Chapter 14
Confessions of a Madwoman:
Part One
Madara's POV
It was good to be home.
He groaned.
The last few days were nothing short of unbearable. As the full realisation of his fatigue and the consequences of his earlier travels finally sank in, the pit of his stomach stirred. He could have collapsed to the ground had he wanted to. From out of the very depths of his being, flowed all of his his stifled exhaustion and exasperation.
All thanks to Hashirama. Madara didn't even want to think about him. All he wanted was to sleep, seeing that he hadn't shut his eyes in nearly four days.
On account of Hashirama, once again.
The damned Senju leader wouldn't give him a break for a mere second.
I don't care what happens. I'm going to my chambers.
He tried not to think about his brother or what he was doing. Izuna and his schemes could wait until Madara woke up. Yet, he could still feel that familiar boiling rage inside of him at his younger sibling for ditching him there while he returned happily to their home. He now wished that he had never asked him why.
Stop thinking about it, dammit.
He ignored everything and everyone in his path and went straight for his room. He zoomed out the world because he desperately needed to.
On his way there, he noticed two figures in the garden. A taller individual and a shorter one. He stopped in his tracks to make sure that he wasn't imagining things. As it turned out, he wasn't, not even after rubbing his eyes.
Kagami ran after the woman, Mina, as though they were playing a game of hide and seek. He chased her barefoot, yet, was still faster than she could ever be. She barely moved around with the kimono weighing her down, settling for pulling it up to her knees so she could even attempt to make a break for it. Which was useless, as it looked like she was leaping from one place to another instead, all the while trying to avoid being touched by the kid.
A chorus of loud laughter came bursting from their direction. Tears gathered at the corners of their eyes, creases and wrinkles tugged at their lips; their stark features were seen clearly under the shining sunlight. But there was nothing brighter than the smiles they wore. They looked genuinely happy, especially the child. He had never seen the boy smile so much, never before was he in such a happy state. Not even in his presence or during the times he would train him. Despite being devoted to training with Madara, as the boy claimed, he was never this content whenever they sparred. He knew his mother's illness was troubling him, yet he was here, completely carefree and untroubled with Mina. Who was just as exuberant as the little boy was.
It wasn't a sight Madara was first expecting to see the moment he had arrived. As much as he would like to feel shocked, he wasn't. He didn't care, he was far too weary to question why he was seeing what he was seeing. But apparently, not weary enough to not see where this was heading.
Mina wasn't particularly paying attention to where she was going; her clumsy footfalls crunching over the stones further down, feet slipping as she grasped at shrubs with hands that tried to dodge Kagami, only to end up twisting her ankle and stumbling on a rock backwards. She hit the pond water with a mighty splash, the loud sound slicing through the air.
Water splashed everywhere and a few fishes emerged with it, spilling into large puddles on the grass. The Uchiha boy only laughed harder at the expense of the woman's humiliation. With what must have been super human effort on her part, she broke the surface again, gulping at the autumn air for a mere instant, and then with barely another splash, she was under again. More water had been spilled as she tried to pull herself out of it, all the while struggling hilariously.
He took a moment to contemplate.
Should I?
Before deciding against it.
Not my problem.
And as suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared, tip-toeing towards his room as if nothing had happened.
Mina's POV
Great job. What are you? Blind? Watch where you step next time, idiot.
Scolding myself wasn't going to get me out of this pond. Pulling myself together would. But it was rather strenuous to do with this fucking kimono that was stupidly heavy.
Dammit! It was dragging me down. The pond wasn't even that deep and yet I was having a ridiculously hard time getting out of it. Five minutes of flailing my arms around like a crazy woman and flapping about, was how I eventually took my first breath that wasn't completely void of oxygen or any other gases. I held onto the stone edges surrounding the pond, trying to compose myself. The kid was laughing at me. What burst from his lips was a chortle, he thought my predicament was amusing.
I couldn't blame him, I would have probably done the same had it been a particular sadist in my place. But he wasn't. I could have 'drowned'. In a pond. I always had a gut feeling that I would die a moronic death.
Like drowning in a koi pond. Or falling down a rabbit hole. Same thing.
After what seemed to be a long time, I finally got the courage to pull myself out of the water.
"Hey kid, help me out, would you?" I asked him. Kagami had finally calmed himself, probably realizing this wasn't a funny joke as he had originally thought. He took my hand and tried to yank me out with whatever little force he had with that teeny-weeny frame of his. I couldn't believe I was asking for help from a little seven-year-old. But he did manage to do so and I ended up flopping to the ground. The dry and warm grass underneath me was...surprisingly nice. I turned to lay on my back, head positioned upward and stared at the cloudless sky. It was a fine, clear day.
The sunlight was already drying the kimono. I wasn't exactly sure why but I felt as though a rush of sluggishness washed over me. Kagami came closer and took a seat next to me, mimicking my position. We stayed there silently without saying a word to each other. Not that there was anything to say.
I was content just by appreciating Mother Nature.
That damn headache wouldn't go away. I thought sleeping it off would help but it clearly didn't. I also thought it would hint off to whoever was knocking on my door to go away. But then again, it didn't. Whoever it was, kept knocking incessantly for the past half-hour.
That's some patience they had there. Any kind of person who had the time to stand there in front of the door for that long, without as much as calling out my name or saying anything for that matter, and knock without taking a break— surely wasn't serious. It was probably not urgent or else they would have barged in unannounced. It couldn't be Sora either because she would always identify herself before coming in. Whoever it was, they were joking. And it was far from funny.
I'm just trying to sleep, is it too much to ask for? I was considering opening the door and telling off whoever stood there. This was no time to be playing games, whatever this was.
"It's past midnight for crying out loud!" I lost my cool. I tossed the pillow across the room and headed towards the bedroom door. It was too bad the pillows couldn't muffle out the loud knocks.
"What!" I yanked the door open with a force that could have unhinged it off its frame.
"Damn. Would you calm down?" Izuna said as a matter-of-factly. I was about to slam the door in his face again but he intercepted it this time and placed his foot forward.
"Madara wants to see you," he said, smirking.
I didn't hear him.
That was a lie.
I did but chose not to, swiftly returning to my bed. I didn't understand whatever game he was playing but I would not be pulled into it. Instead, I sunk into the mattress and tightly covered myself. I shut my eyes, hoping he would disappear. He only stepped closer.
"I said Madara wants to-"
"I know what you said," I cut him off, "please get out."
"But-" he protested.
"I'm sure Madara could wait until the-" it was his turn to interrupt me.
"He can't. He says it's..." he suddenly stopped talking. He was definitely up to something. "You know how Madara gets when he's impatient."
"Actually, I don't."
Hmm, odd.
What could Madara possibly want with me at this time of night? Probably not something good. It was never something good given any time of day. Should I push my luck and ignore Izuna? Or should I just-
My eyes shot open as a horrible realization finally sprung to mind.
Was it time? Oh God.
"Well then, you wouldn't want to," Was he warning me?
"Fine," I groaned loudly, hiding the quaking fear that was beginning to swirl in the crevasses of my mind. I wasn't ready to face him, no matter how much I tried to think of a way out, it all ended with Madara plunging a dagger through my heart. I went to get a robe, fingers shaking as they reached out for the fabric to wear- but Izuna had already grabbed my wrists and dragged me along.
"Would you wait a second? I need to get something to wear," I implored him.
"No time," he replied curtly.
"What on earth does Madara want?" I tried asking, hoping he would let slip a hint about my fate. And as I expected, he said nothing conclusive.
"How would I know?"
Oh no, no, no! I dug the heels of my feet into the ground, trying to garner myself more time, but my resistance was futile. Izuna was far stronger.
"Can you let go of me now? I need to go bac—" I asked him.
"Sure," he let go of my hand as we came to a stop in front of a door.
"Here, he's waiting for you in his study. The way there is just behind this door," he spun the doorknob quietly and shoved me in 'gently'. Before I could even turn around and give him a piece of my mind, he had already shut the door behind me. I knocked back, hoping that he had stayed on the other side.
"Come on Izuna, I'm sorry, please come back," I whispered, begging him not to leave me here alone. All I got in response was the empty sounds of flickering flames, the ghostly whistling of the night.
Shit.
I went for the knob, but it was locked. From the outside.
I gulped. There was no one around to save me if push came to shove.
I turned around and noticed I was now in a strange room. It took my eyes a while to adjust to the darkness but I could make out the framework of a bed and a few chairs.
Darn it! I was in his bedroom. Izuna...Was this his plan all along? Did Madara really want to speak to me or was his brother just trying to rattle my chains? I sincerely hoped for the latter, I was a coward; I wasn't prepared to deal with Madara's wrath just yet.
Izuna did mention that his study was just around here, I could see the outlines of a sliding door on the other side of the chamber; perhaps that was it. There was a faint light glimmering behind it; a candle. It was frighteningly cold in here and I wasn't dressed appropriately. I could feel the hairs on my neck rise in anticipation, a spine-chilling nervousness creeping up my back.
It's all your fault!
I mentally cursed him.
I would have to think of something to get back at him for this, but now was hardly the time to plan my revenge. Not when I was close to crawling out of my skin. It was near pitch-black. I struggled to hold back a shriek when I thought I had heard faint noises resounding from the corners of the room.
Groaning? Grumbling? I couldn't tell but I didn't see a figure laying on the bed, so I assumed he was indeed in his study.
Maybe Izuna was right. It wasn't a comforting thought, but I had no choice. Swallowing down the sickening panic nagging at me, I took a few steps closer to the presumed study room and the moment I was about to lay a finger on the door, a cold hand sprung out of the darkness and grabbed my wrists, blocking me from going any further.
In the deadly silence of the room, my screams never made it past my lips, instead; it was as though my whole body yelled in response, shaking with stupor.
Oh-oh… mother of-
There were no words vivid enough to describe the crippling terror that stunned me in my place, petrifying me. The muscles of my neck stiffened, unable to bear turning around in fear of finding him there.
Maybe Izuna wasn't so right after all. That sadist.
"What are you doing here?" his voice was cold. Icy. And dark. Really dark. I flinched at the chill running up my spine. I started to back away, still not looking at him. The room seemingly getting colder for some reason.
My eyes wide with horror, mouth rigid and open; I clenched my fists with blanched knuckles and dug my nails deeply into the palms of my hand in an effort to steady my trembling.
I repressed any insecurities I might have had at the moment and did my best not to show my unease and fright.
And it all went to hell.
"I— I…" I stuttered.
Get your shit together, doofus.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," I apologized profusely, thinking maybe he would have mercy on me if I showed him my remorse. I could have lied- though experience warned me against it- and said that I had gotten lost in the dark corridors but it was far from believable. I had been here for God knows how long and I would know my way around by now. What a nightmare this was turning out to be.
I wasn't utterly hopeless, I would cast all the blame on Izuna- it was the least he deserved.
"Izuna..." the mere sound of his name rolling off my tongue made me gag internally, "Izuna-sama told me that you wanted to see me immediately," I added the honorific in an effort to seem respectable but I was afraid it would have had the opposite effect. Madara must have perceived it as shameless mockery on my part.
"He told you to come to my room dressed like that?" he questioned.
Oh God.
If I didn't die at Madara's hands tonight, then I would die of humiliation. Blushing would have been no problem, but what I did was go as red as a beetroot and radiate heat like a hot pan. In front of him, no less. It was absolute torture. Utter humiliation. The memory would be seared into my brain forever, ready to pop up and torment me again when I'm ever in a quiet moment.
The only comfort I had was in the darkness that surrounded us, but knowing Madara, I wouldn't be too shocked if he could see everything right now. The concept of modesty seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth in these disturbing moments.
I squeezed my thighs together, hoping to lengthen the nightgown before I could speak;
"I'm really sorry, p-pardon my immodesty, I didn't—I'm… I'm sorry—" I squirmed in his grasp, I couldn't seem to think of anything else but pathetic apologies.
Wait.
Something's off.
Madara sounded confused as if he wasn't aware of the circumstance, in fact, it sounded like he wasn't expecting me tonight. If I was right, then he wouldn't be hounding me for a thorough answer, not at this hour anyways. Which only meant—
That little shit.
I didn't know how to answer him and wasn't even sure he would believe me if I recounted what truly happened.
It wouldn't hurt to give it a try, no?
When I finally summoned the courage to turn my head and lock eyes with him, I noticed that he himself wasn't wearing much. Just a cotton robe he likely pulled on the instant he heard me approaching. Loosely tied around his waist, my eyes running across his chiseled chest, few hairs trailing down his well-defined body and towards his—
"Eyes up here," he motioned, snapping me out of my daze. Crap.
"Hmm," I coughed and cleared my throat, "I swear to you, your brother told me to come here right away because it was Important and that you were impatient. He never gave me the chance to get dressed, all he did was drag me out of bed."
It was particularly hard attempting to not ogle his body when my head was directly overlooking his pectorals. I was confused, dazed . How could a man be so tall?
"And you were dumb enough to follow him?" he asked, his eyes showing no emotion whatsoever once I managed to tear my own away.
Yes, yes I was dumb enough. No need to point it out. I was speechless. Completely at loss for words, but he wasn't.
"Let's say you were speaking the truth, would you care to explain to me what this is?" Madara quipped, raising a slithering snake in the midst of the darkness. I yelled, surprised at the sudden appearance of a serpent right in my face. I tried to pull away but his grip wouldn't budge. I was horrified of snakes. Fearful. Terrified. Scared shitless.
The scream tore through the tension in the air like a great shard of glass. I felt my eyes widen and my pulse quicken, my heart thudding like a rock rattling in a diamond box.
I couldn't stop, more anxious of the limbless reptile than Madara himself. He quickly let go of me and I darted to the other side of the room. I couldn't comprehend how he could be so at ease being that close to a snake. Much less, hold it. I tried to open the door but completely forgot that it was locked.
Oh, Izuna. You clever son of a bitch.
Madara must have thought I had planted it there. He didn't need to say it or anything else for that matter, I could already figure out what he was insinuating. If this snake was poisonous, he could very well think I placed it in his room as some sort of attempt on his life.
What if he thought I was coming here to kill him? Not that he would be killed by a snake, or even harmed. This was ridiculous.
Madara isn't mentally impaired. Okay, so he wasn't retarded but quite astute. Shrewd enough that he wouldn't be easily taken down by a mere serpent. Everyone knew that. Except me. I probably appeared as the only foolish one who would try something as stupid as this.
But I didn't.
"It was Izuna!" I was shrieking, growing panicky at being in a confined room with two monsters, one of which I was itching to get away from. He still wasn't saying anything and I desperately wanted to get out of here. I kept on fidgeting with the door but it wasn't opening.
Damn you! I kept pulling at the knob, turning it in every possible direction. Madara didn't move an inch. I turned around to face him and found out he wasn't holding the snake anymore. I panicked even more. When will this nightmare end?
"Where is it?!" I was ready to tear through my skin if it meant I would leave this place. The room was still as black as the night sky, and I couldn't see anything. I leaped from one foot to the other, afraid the snake was anywhere near me or my feet.
"Oh God where is it! Get it away from me!" I was shouting as I tried to unlatch the door with no success. I heard a loud sigh behind me followed by heavy footsteps. The sigh that came was a signal, not of his resolve leaving but of the level his tension had reached. Madara tried to unlock the door himself but he, too, failed. He only tried once before punching a hole into the door and snaked his hand through. He seemed to have unlocked it from the outside. He opened it and gestured silently for me to get out. But he hadn't moved an inch, his muscled arm leaning on the doorframe right next to my ear.
"Stay away from my brother," his husky voice cautioned, and never have I ever been so grateful to him before. I dashed towards my bedchamber, nearly stumbling over the chair that barred the door within the hallway. I ran as fast as I could until reaching the security of my own room.
I didn't sleep. I couldn't. I was up all night thinking about countless scenarios how this hell of a dream would come to an end, all of which included the snake slithering into my chambers. I was paranoid. I had to wrap myself in the covers like a sandwich and remained like that until the beginning of dawn.
It wasn't until then that I found it safe enough to step on the floor.
...
I tried to control myself. I really did. I knew something was not right with Izuna since the evening he returned from the treaty signing. I also knew he was up to something and despite telling myself that I wouldn't fall into his trap, I walked right into it with open arms.
Perhaps I was just that dumb.
And now Madara thought I must have tried to kill him in his sleep. Or something of that kind. I hadn't a clue as to what the Uchiha leader would think or do. Not a single hint. I wanted to get my hands on Izuna so badly.
Kill him with my bare hands. Choke him. Stab him in the heart. Douse him in gas and set him on fire. Whatever that would do the trick. I was sitting in the garden, pondering on what my next move would be. I needed to act fast before he got the chance to play his next card.
"Oh, you're going to pay for this you son of a –" I wondered aloud, teeth grinding in anger. I was lost in thought when I heard Kagami call my name.
"Mina-chan?"
"Oh Kagami, good morning," I feigned the best smile I could in my current state.
"Good morning to you too," he replied in his usual polite tone.
"Is something wrong?" I was beginning to wonder where Sora was. I hadn't seen her all morning and she was almost always at my side by now.
"No. Sora-chan just feels a bit sick. She told me to find you and stay with you," he informed me.
"Oh really?" I was beginning to get concerned, "Where is she? I would like to see her," I asked him. Sora must have warned him not to mention to me where she bided, because he seemed to be struggling on whether to answer or not.
"She's in her room," Kagami finally said.
"Can you take me there, please?" I had never been to Sora's chambers, for some unknown reason, she would always come up with an excuse. It was admittedly weird. As if I wouldn't stand out in a maid's bedroom, hell, I didn't belong anywhere in this world.
I followed the young boy to her room. It wasn't far away from mine and when I entered, I instantly recognized the place. It was a carbon-copy of the room I used to stay in before I moved here. Though, it was more furnished. There were two beds, one of them was made and the other had Sora laying in it, head bent over a bucket retching her guts out. The smell of vomit engulfed the room and I was immediately reminded of my own recent situation.
She finally recognized us and tried to get up to greet her visitors. I ushered her back down. But it turned out, I wasn't the only one.
Azami leaned over her, wiping her sweat with a dampened cloth. She removed the bucket from her grasp and gestured the sick woman back to bed, whispering something in her ear.
"I'm sorry Ms. Mina, but it seems that I got the bug like you," she tried to laugh it off but it only sounded like she was wheezing for air. I tried to help her lay back down. Before I could reassure her, Azami stood up and waved him over.
"Kagami dear, do you think you can bring me a bucket of cold water and a few towels? Oh and call a medic, too. Hurry now," she brushed his cheeks gently and asked the boy who was growing the ever more concerned for his maid friend. He nodded fervently and went to fetch what was asked of him. There was something in the way the dark-haired lady treated the boy that sparked something in my mind. But no matter, Sora was my main concern. I felt her forehead.
She had a fever.
I really couldn't say what she had. Perhaps the casual cold or a flu or perhaps food poisoning like myself. She was sweating profusely and looked terribly pale.
"You shouldn't be here, Mina. I'll be fine," she tried to get me to leave but I wouldn't let her. I had every intention of sticking here at her sides as she did when I was ill. If it meant I had to camp here then I certainly didn't mind.
"Nonsense, you've been nothing but good to me. Let me be here for you," I smiled.
The short Uchiha maid knelt back down beside her fellow housekeeper, flashing me a strained smile before returning her utmost attention to the coughing Sora.
"Don't exert yourself, you need to rest," Azami's words may have sounded strict, yet her voice exuded softness and a gentle tone I had never heard from her. The same tenderness in her voice was mimicked in her eyes, in the way she looked at Sora as she held her hands rather lingeringly.
I watched as she ran her fingers through her matted blonde hair, there was an oddity in the way she moved. I was curious, but this was not the time for inquisitiveness. Apologies began flowing out of Sora's lips, but I couldn't let her waste her energy.
"Shh, you're going to be fine..." I shushed her, trying to get her to sleep.
Food poisoning.
That was what they all had. Well, most of them anyways.
"Huh, who knew…"
It was their turn. Ever since I last visited Sora, other housekeepers were coming up sick. With the same symptoms. All of whom resided in the main house. Which could only mean that all of the food sources inside this household were infected, and not the whole clan's. That was a slightly comforting thought, otherwise hundreds of people would be found ailing and nauseous.
On another hand, this also meant that they had to get rid of all the food that supplied this house. The whole place reeked of vomit, a none-too-kind reminiscence of how filthy my room was. Maids, elders, shinobi and guards, it didn't matter who they were or what their social class was, salmonella didn't differentiate between obedient maids and grumpy old geezers. As much as some elders had a hard time believing that.
It started around a week ago. More and more people had been turning up at the small clinic within the house. It wasn't the one where injured shinobi came to be treated, this was much smaller and much more fitting for a health-check examination. It had taken me nearly four days to get the bacteria out of my system and yet it was taking Sora a full week. Eleven days to be exact. She was showing signs of improvement in the past two days alone but it wasn't completely gone yet. Food poisoning didn't usually last that long. But then again, everyone's immune system was different and, consequently, some people healed faster than others. The one great upside of this whole matter was that Madara was nowhere to be seen. And his absence- as suspicious as it was- granted me more time than I could have ever hoped to ask for. Yet, it felt like a double-edged sword had been hung over my head by a flimsy thread, not knowing when it would hit its intended target, completely unaware of when he would come out of the blue and demand answers. I walked these halls with a dreadful sense weighing on my shoulders.
As a wave of panic gripped the entirety of the house and its residents, I managed to lend a helping hand to some of the medics during the mayhem that followed. They looked like they needed it, not because they didn't know what they were doing, but rather due to the fact that they were understaffed. I couldn't do much besides get them what they needed and observe the patients, since I didn't have chakra and couldn't use medical ninjustu. It was equally boring as it was nauseating and often times when I watched them work their magic, my mind would wander into outer space, thinking of the most inane of things; if medical ninjustu in these cases had similar effects to antibiotics. I knew very little about how they used it asides from manipulating their own chakra to treat the injured.
It was a cold and bitter reminder that I had to face, I was no longer in my world, where a course of antibiotics and replacement of lost fluids would have easily taken care of it. What did these people have? I was almost certain vaccines and analgesics were most definitely not part of their possessions. It seemed futile to argue the laws of physics of this world, or the laws of man for that matter. It was useless comparing both worlds, who was to say that the knowledge there was of any use here?
If medical ninjutsu had similar effects to antibiotics or painkillers, would that mean a body repeatedly healed by such method, rather than letting the natural process of healing take its course, would it grow dependent on chakra?
Would the wounds heal slower than usual? Would the fibrous mesh not fuse as quickly as they should be to block any excessive bleeding? How about non-physical and wounds like infections that affected organ systems, would the foreign chakra have any effect on the tissue cells? On inflammatory cells?
Yet the most important question of all;
What the hell did any of this matter?
Certainly wouldn't matter to Madara, not when he was busy wringing my neck, snapping it in half. I groaned, my train of thought always circled back to him and the havoc he was going to wreak on me. I couldn't even escape him in the safety of my own thoughts, what on earth was I going to do when he decided to remember the threats he made to me?
So many questions were flooding my mind until a heavy voice interrupted my thoughts. A wide smile quickly appearing on my lips as I watched the tall figure beneath me gag on his own vomit.
Izuna.
"What are you standing there for?" he repeated in between pukes. It was wonderful looking down on him like this. I would have been lying if I said I didn't take any pleasure in seeing him like this. Because, in truth, I was overwhelmed with immense delight. Satisfaction. Glee. Gratification. Amusement. Everything and anything in between that could describe the depths of happiness I felt in these moments. I crossed my arms and uttered with as much mockery and contempt as I could,
"Karma's a bitch, wouldn't you say?" I asked him. He was in no condition to answer even if he wanted to.
"I hope you're feeling better," I snarked, unable to keep my mouth shut, "No. Actually I don't."
I had run here the moment I heard he was sick. Not out of genuine concern, but so I could come have a laugh. And laugh I did. For a full ten minutes every other day. He deserved this and so much worse, but the time for that would come and when it did, I would be waiting expectantly at my seat in the front row. When I reached my quota of laughter for the day, I decided to take my leave.
As I was heading for the door, I heard him call out to me.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"What? I'd rather be helping someone than standing here aimlessly," I simply told him, "Besides, I didn't think you'd want my presence here right now."
The maid that was responsible for his well-being and who happened to be one of the few that weren't infected, looked tremendously uncomfortable. I had come by with a tray of food as an excuse to take a look at him today. I didn't want to seem completely heartless. I had even made the soup myself.
He should be grateful.
I momentarily wondered if that was what I looked like back when I was sick. Seeing him, I could only imagine how bad I must have had it, too. He was as pale as a sheet, smelled worse than a dead raccoon and spoke as if he had a fork stuck down his throat. His hair was drenched in his own sweat.
"Feed me," the words came out in wheezing croaks.
"Beg your pardon?" I raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure I heard him correctly.
"I said—", a loud cough erupted from him, "feed…me."
So I heard right after all. Hmm…
One glance at him and any sympathy I may have held for him was instantly gone and all it took was one look in his eyes; that fiery, daring and obstinate look in his inky eyes screaming for me to fall into the webs of deception that he had weaved. It was the only lively impression that painted his otherwise lifeless features. The ghost of a smile hardly tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Sure," I agreed. He brought this upon himself. I walked over to his side of the bed and sat right next to him. I took the bowl of soup off the tray and raised it to his level.
"Open wide," I cooed, using a tone a mother would when feeding her newborn baby. "Here comes the airplane!"
Whether the soup was spiced up with chili peppers or not, was something he was about to find out. He looked at me wide-eyed, his skepticism was clear. Yet he took the bait anyways along with the spoon, into his mouth. His eyes never leaving mine, even as the spoon parted his lips. I waited patiently for him to calm down before I spoon-fed him the rest of the soup.
Izuna started sneezing uncontrollably, and I had no choice but to back away as he burst into a coughing fit. Heavily and violently. He wasn't stopping and it had been nearly three minutes. Something wasn't right. I gave him a second glance and noticed red patches had started to appear all over. Particularly the areas of his face and throat. As if it wasn't enough of a clue, he began itching, as though it was a rash. This continued on for a while.
Yikes.
...
"He doesn't happen to be allergic to chili peppers, is he?" I asked the maid who now stood perturbed by my side. I couldn't bring myself to look at her as I questioned whether he was acting or not. I was far too busy watching Izuna have an allergic reaction to the ingredients in the soup.
"Hmm? Yes, I believe so," she finally replied.
Uneasiness had my stomach locked up tight, while the dread crept over me like an icy chill.
Oh... this just had to get worse. Where a wicked grin would have replaced the faint smile that was once there, now in its stead, sat a broken grimace. I couldn't believe it, it was almost like hitting the jackpot. A goldmine of shit luck, where it should have been too good to be true turned out to be a hellish terror in disguise too good to pass up. I put the bowl back on the tray and stood up. I crossed my arms and pondered if I should stay and help him or casually leave him to his own business while pretending this never happened. I pursed my lips, unable to believe the terrible luck I seem to attract wherever I go.
"Shouldn't we be helping him? He doesn't look so good," the maid was borderline panicking and it appeared that she had every reason to. Izuna was turning a bright red, almost as lucent as a tomato. He was coughing and looked like he was suffocating.
The hell am I going to do?! Think, Mina, think.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, the heaviness in my chest preventing me from sighing any louder. I rubbed my hands together, trying to find a way out of this that didn't end with me getting buried six feet under.
"Yeah, I can't do this, you need to get a medic," I said as indifferent as one could be in a situation like this. Which wasn't a good thing considering that I finally resigned myself to being incapable of doing a single thing right. Anyone going through a severe allergic reaction needed to be treated on the spot. Yet, I was strangely calm, in absolute zen mode as I spoke to her.
I had no idea what was wrong me, whereas she was one moment away from pitching a crisis.
I was only playing lax because...well this was Izuna. He deserved much worse however; I believe I had taken it too far. The young woman eyed me with every spec of oddity radiating from her gaze. I inhaled and exhaled, trying to get a hold of myself before unfurling into a breakdown worse than this woman could ever imagine.
"You see, if he doesn't get help, he could go into anaphylactic shock. Which is—" I spaced out, the pressure of the predicament pushing me over the edge.
"—very bad, unless you have adrenaline shots, do you have adrenaline shots?" I asked, pointing to the hysterical man withering on the bed.
You idiot. You should have thought this through before attempting to murder this man.
That voice again. Something was off, that inexplicably obscure feeling of being watched crawled up my spine, begging me to think twice over but I couldn't. I took a side glance at Izuna and asked aloud,
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Of course she didn't. This was bad and I couldn't help but worry. The woman shook her head slightly and answered with a question of her own.
"What are adrenaline shots?"
Her clueless question was my catalyst. It was that particular, painful moment that my impassiveness shattered into full-blown panic and trepidation. I hurried over to Izuna's side and jumped on the bed.
"Please go fetch a medic!" I yelled, my voice quivering, "Hurry!"
She ran out of the room, calling out to any shinobi.
"Hey, you!" I screeched, waving at Izuna and snapping my fingers in hopes of keeping his attention to this world.
God, why didn't I think this through! How should I have known he was allergic!?
Did I not just say you were an idiot?
"Shut up!" I may have said that a little too loud for my liking, startling myself. Izuna eyed me suspiciously for which I was glad, he was still conscious enough to impart me with that judgemental look of his. Though he was coughing violently, his eyes swelling in the midst of his fits. I knelt above him, begging him to keep it together.
"Come on Izuna, die some other time, preferably when I'm not around!"
"H-ha, you'r -" he tried to speak, unable to get the grating words out of his constricting throat.
I don't know. Ever thought about using a single brain cell? But wait, thinking would actually require you to use that one brain cell.
This voice was becoming increasingly disparaging. However, this was definitely not the time to have an entirely thorough conversation in my head. I wrapped my arms around Izuna's waist and tried to pat him hard on his back. I didn't understand what I was doing but I knew I had to expel out everything he just ate. He could die and then I would be blamed for it.
I didn't intend to kill him, I swear!
Keep telling yourself that.
I helped him lean over the bed and brought a bucket closer to him. He needed to vomit the peppers he just ate. I kept patting him roughly but that wasn't helping. He kept on coughing continuously. His eyes were swollen shut. It seemed like he was having trouble breathing, his wheezing was enough proof of that. It was like his throat was swelling up as well and closing in on itself, preventing anything from entering or exiting.
"Come on Izuna. You need to vomit what you just ate. You can do it. Come on now!" I was trying to encourage him to puke up everything but he wasn't responding. It wasn't like he could anyways. My voice was gentler and softer than I usually portrayed it. I never thought that one day, I would use such a tone on Izuna Uchiha. However, I didn't want him to die. If Izuna died then I was dead meat, too. No doubt about it as it was only logical. And if we did follow the rules of logic, then in that case, Madara Uchiha will eat me alive until my bones were the only remnants of who I once was, ground to ashes.
As if I needed more reasons to have him bury me alive!
"Come on, yes that's it!" I was desperately trying to remain positive and optimistic. I didn't want to be at the mercy of his elder brother. He still wasn't vomiting but a regrettably 'brilliant' idea struck my mind. To this day, I could not say what got into me that instant, I could not imagine what I was doing made any sense whatsoever. But I did it anyways.
"Izuna," I called out to him while snaking my arms around his shoulders tenderly. He didn't respond, his consciousness wavering, threatening to depart.
"Stick your fingers down your throat," I said as I guided his hands towards his mouth. I held two of his fingers and ushered it to his oral cavity. This was the only idea that came to me in a moment of questionable sanity. I couldn't do anything else, it was up to him to stick his own fingers down his throat, because I sure as hell wasn't about to do it. And he did.
And thankfully, he vomited. Although, not a lot. Not as much as I hoped he would. I needed to make sure every ounce of the chili peppers ingested was completely out of his system but I couldn't. There was no way. All I could think of was that he needed to spew up everything he ate today or yesterday.
"Yes, good job! Now keep on doing that. I need you to expel your stomach contents," I was telling him but it didn't look like he was listening. He was this close from collapsing to the ground and into the bucket, unable to breathe. I caught Izuna and pulled him upwards.
No. No, no, no, no, don't lose it.
"Stay awake, Izuna!" I snapped my fingers in front of him, trying to get him to focus. This was not good. Not at all. I slapped him, panicking as I pleaded helplessly. Again and again until I realized it was utterly useless.
I turned him back on his stomach and tugged at his hair.
Oh God, this is disgusting. But I had to do it before he lost his awareness. I positioned myself over him and leaned over.
"I'm so sorry!" Please don't remember this.
I did it. I actually did it. I inserted my fingers down Izuna's throat. This was perhaps the worst thing I had ever done to date. I had to pry open his now swollen lips so I could push two of my fingers inside. I felt chills run up my spine, the small hairs on my arms stood erect as slime covered my fingertips. I pulled out and pushed them back in further. I managed to get him to vomit more. I repeated this twice more before he started to retch on his own, his stomach contents now flowing freely like a leaky faucet. He regained full control of his consciousness as I watched him try to pull himself up, struggling as my weight kept him pinned down. Still, I couldn't be sure if he vomited everything out. I was about to thrust my fingers back inside his mouth one more time before I heard the doors sliding open.
I found Madara standing there, mute. Dumbstruck. The maid that was just here beside me moments ago was now standing there behind him while the medic that treated me when I was sick, was also present at his side.
When did she go call them?
I was still holding Izuna down, his hair in my hand and the other one ready to jab him. Izuna appeared to have taken in his older brother's presence as well, painfully giving him a lopsided smirk.
This doesn't look so good.
You think?
I was kicked out. Kicked out. After I saved him.
Well, you nearly killed him.
And I couldn't have been more relieved.
It was getting easier to ignore the voice, especially when my mind was already in turmoil. Whatever it was, it was right. I nearly killed him. Who was I kidding, I didn't save him, I've made it worse. Whatever that medic did should have kept him alive. I wasn't going to perform a tracheostomy right there, not that I would know how to either way.
I was cracking my knuckles. Angry at what just happened. Rigid with fury at my foolish actions that almost sentenced me to a gruesome death by Madara's hands. Maybe I really had crossed the line this time. But it wasn't like I knew he was allergic. How could I have known that?
Jesus Christ.
I wanted to scream, scream loud enough until my lungs collapsed.
After that incident, I excused myself and let the medic do her job instead. I went straight for the washrooms and washed my hands with soap violently. I had to get Izuna's puke and smell off of me. I rubbed my hands clean until they were glowing red. I still wasn't satisfied with my washing. I would have bleached them if I could. I was disgusted myself, so much so that I hadn't realized the tears had finally burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I felt the muscles of my chin tremble like a small child, eyes staring blankly at the figure gazing back at me through the mirror.
It was getting too much. A sense of overwhelming uncertainty washed over me and in that moment I just wished the ground would come apart hungrily, split to swallow me right up.
What am I doing here? Why me?
I kept rubbing and rubbing furiously until my fingers bled. Silent tears mixing with drops of blood drained down the sink in an everlasting swirl.
What fresh hell is this?
Tobirama's POV
"Brother, I need you to do something for me," Hashirama was pleading his younger sibling.
"No," Tobirama refused plainly without hearing his proposal. He wouldn't. He was walking away from his elder brother, trying to shake him off his back. He had more important things to take care of than to entertain Hashirama's whacked ideas. He already spent two hours every day listening to his ramblings, he didn't need to waste anymore of his time. He was heading towards his office, ignoring the air-headed clan leader along the way.
"Please brother. This is important to me," he resorted to begging. Hashirama had brought out the puppy eyes. Perhaps the most persuasive weapon in his arsenal to date. It worked almost every time. Almost. On anyone but Tobirama. It had never affected him, never would either. Tobirama had gotten used to the Senju leader's childish tactics. He had grown immune to it. How couldn't he? He grew up with that man. If he needed to make sure Hashirama was always kept in check, his resolve would have to be stronger than his brother's. Which meant he would have to be blind to Hashirama's so-called puppy eyes and decline any and every idea he threw at him. Well, perhaps not every idea. Just the incredibly stupid ones.
But he didn't need to hear this suggestion his anija was about to make to know it was overly absurd. He just knew, rarely did his intuitions fail him. He grew familiar to Hashirama's pleas and with that, he was able to differentiate between Hashirama's puppy eyes. Contrary to common belief, Hashirama did indeed have many expressions and never limited himself to one. The trick was in the eyes. If one managed to see what was really behind them, then it was guaranteed one knew what Hashirama really wanted. A perfect example was of this moment, right now. His eyes might have been wide open and teary but there was a gleam in those brown orbs that only appeared every time he tried to convince Tobirama that the Uchiha were inherently 'good'.
This is definitely something about the Uchiha.
And if that was the case, he most certainly did not want to hear this idea. He had successfully ignored him up to this point. Hashirama now blocked his way and was standing between him and the door to his study.
"Move it Hashirama," Tobirama finally spoke more than two words and acknowledged his brother's presence. His growing agitation was obvious.
"Come on Tobirama. You know how much I would appreciate this," the Senju was becoming a tad more serious now.
"I do not care," Tobirama replied.
"But you do. Even if you don't know what I am about to ask of you yet."
"Actually. I really don't," he hated how Hashirama could casually change his demeanor in a matter of seconds. It was unnerving because he could never tell when he was being serious or not.
"You do," he repeated, "because you're my dear, younger brother who would do anything for me." The smug Hashirama had already returned. It seemed like he couldn't keep himself away for more than two seconds. As much as the pragmatic, silver-haired shinobi hated to admit it, his brother did have a point. Tobirama could never say no to Hashirama when it really mattered.
"Oh, don't tell me you're still mad about that?!" Hashirama continued, "I already apologized. I know I should have told you first about the betrothal before blurting it out."
Tobirama had managed to forget about that. His brother was still oblivious, preferring to add salt to injury.
"I know it must have bothered you but I had thought you didn't care for such things. Now I see I was wrong in my assumptions," Hashirama began his long heartfelt apology. The same one he had been reciting for the past two weeks.
"But it wasn't like you would have told me about your lady friends either."
This is new.
Tobirama grumbled and began to walk away from his study, after deciding the paperwork in there could wait until tomorrow. He was in charge of it of course. Hashirama didn't have the brain capacity to stay seated for more than five minutes and read. Though, that didn't stop him from treading on his heels.
"You are not answering, Tobi. Does that mean I'm right?" He gave him a few elbow jabs to initiate a response from him. But he wasn't getting one. Not the one he wanted, anyways. Hashirama knew very well how Tobirama hated that nickname.
"No, Hashirama. Stop spewing nonsense out of your arse," he finally replied as calmly as he could.
He never thought about such things. Never had the time for relationships. Or so he said. Tobirama could never really admit to himself that there was a part of him, deep down, that was just wary of getting to know the notion of intimacy. Perhaps because he dreaded the possibility of rejection, he wasn't quite sure and he didn't care to, either. That was the one area he could never understand. He wasn't like Hashirama. He wasn't particularly the best at 'socializing' with people. Never was and never would be. To socialize with people would mean he would have to open up, even slightly. And well, he would rather not.
Keeping to himself had always worked out for him, why discard something that had been proven to work time and time again? He had no reason to actively seek out a relationship, even if it was just a physical one.
So, he settled for communicating with people instead. As best as he could. He liked to think that he was at least good in that department. Relatively.
People are unequivocally dense sometimes, he thought. Much like Hashirama. He backtracked on that last thought.
There was no one like Hashirama. In terms of both stupidity and power.
"Are you sure?" Hashirama asked.
"Of course I'm sure!" it didn't take much for Tobirama to lose his cool with his elder brother. With any other person he could compose himself but with Hashirama...it was as if he knew precisely which buttons to push.
"Well then maybe you could meet a nice gal on the way when you deliver this invitation to Madara, hmm?!" he then raised a formal letter, sealed with red wax and the clan's emblem imprinted in.
I see...
Tobirama grabbed the letter, gave it one last look before crumpling it and tossed it at his brother. It was a wedding invitation. And Hashirama wanted him to personally hand it to the Uchiha.
"What did you do that for?!" the dark-haired Senju leader yelped, "I wrote it myself!"
Hashirama never wrote anything. Unless it was inviting the Uchiha to agree to a ceasefire. So this must have been a 'special occasion'.
"I've never received a fancy invitation letter," Tobirama replied curtly.
"Because you didn't need to. I invited you personally," Hashirama countered.
"I wouldn't call 'Hey, fancy coming to a wedding you never knew was happening until now?' a proper invitation," the younger Senju wanted to know how it would feel like to be as stubborn as his brother. Perhaps, even give Hashi a taste of his own medicine.
"For the love of...why do you have to be so difficult!?" he was exasperated, which could be clearly seen by the frantic hand signs he was waving. His brother was a good actor.
"I said no," Tobirama was heading for his room. A place where everything that was anti-Hashirama existed. The only area where he could truly be at peace without anyone bothering him. Even Hashirama knew his limits. He couldn't bypass the sliding doors that led to Tobi's chambers. The only occasion in which he unexpectedly did that, he ended up nearly drowning in the hallways of his own home. But not before being called every profanity this world had to offer and given a good beating. Hashirama did learn his lesson that time and Tobirama made sure of that. So, there was no way he would decide to forget the consequences and follow him in.
Or would he? One could never tell with Hashirama. It was sometimes difficult to get anything through that thick skull of his. Just like how he repeatedly sent peace treaties to the Uchiha over the years, only to end up being answered with refusals and the occasional insults. Tobirama tried his best to get his brother to give up on that 'project' after a couple of times of blatant rejections. However, his older brother was persistent and stubborn. It was just in his nature and Tobirama couldn't change that. No matter how much he would like to.
"But…but…if you don't, then who will!?"
"Anyone else. This is why we have messengers, Hashirama," Tobirama said, his deep voice...raw and fierce. Guttural and gruff. And yet, it was as demanding in everything he uttered. Similar to Madara's though it lacked that menacing tone, that venomous nuance the Uchiha leader exuded. No, Tobirama's voice was dispassionate and uninterested. But on the few occurrences in which he didn't sound completely dull, his voice resonated like a rising storm. Full of emotions. Whether it was anger or contentment, it would catch everyone's attention. Turning the heads of some women, according to Hashirama, but Tobirama hadn't noticed.
"Yes, but I want you, in person, to do it. No one else is up for this," his aniki was this close from blowing his fuse.
"With good reason! And you're willing to waste my time and my abilities on something as ridiculous as this?" he turned to face his brother.
"My wedding is not ridiculous," Hashirama spoke silently, "I had thought this would be a show of good faith and that you would at least like to know how Izuna was doing," Tobirama was about to interject but the elder Senju raised a finger, signaling him to keep quiet.
"Yes, I know, it has been a while since that fight but, if you haven't noticed, they still harbor a grudge against you for killing Izuna. Or attempting to. Notwithstanding your open antagonism towards them of course, but that's an issue for another time. If you're that against going there, then I'm certain I could find someone else," Hashirama began to walk away, in the opposite direction of the younger brother's room.
Tobirama cursed beneath his breath.
"Wait!"
Madara's POV
Hell.
He was rubbing his temples rather vigorously. A habit he adapted over the years since becoming head of his clan. And partly thanks to Izuna as well. He was exasperated. Everything around him was chaotic. In shambles. All of this because he let Izuna take charge of the compound for a couple of days.
I didn't let him, he invited himself. Madara reminded himself. But then he would also be reminded of how Izuna stranded him there like a fool. His anger towards his younger brother was renewed every time he thought about it, however, the stern leader knew he couldn't blame Izuna for this. The day after his return from the new settlement, people started to show up sick. With the same symptoms as the woman had a week prior. It began with the maids and then spread to several elders before infecting his shinobi. Including Izuna.
But not Madara. No, he was healthy. He hadn't contracted whatever they had. Which had him reckoning that it must have occurred during those four days he was out. Kagami wasn't sick and neither was the woman. Perhaps, she was immune to it now.
If he had to think about it in depth, he could even say she recovered much faster than some of his people.
Then there was that night. Where he found her barely-dressed and standing in the middle of his bedroom. It was a good thing he kept an ear out for anything. It wasn't like anyone made a habit of sneaking into his room at night, no sane person would even contemplate the idea. But she thought it appropriate to just barge in. It really was a good thing he heard her and that she didn't bother keeping her footsteps light.
He shook his head. He wouldn't allow himself to even entertain the possibility of her seeing him like that, she infringed on his privacy; it was entirely her fault. Yet, he was the one who hadn't bothered to lock his door.
What a shame.
But that word was an overly simplified understatement. She claimed that Izuna had sent her there right that moment. And if that was the case- as it appeared to be based on her reaction to the snake- then Izuna had been listening in on him and wanted Madara to suffer humiliation at the hands of this...this woman. The idea of his brother being such a douche wasn't foreign to Madara, however; his frustration never seemed to adapt to that familiar concept.
It enraged Madara, but not as much as the fact that Izuna planted a serpent in his room just to pin it on the woman. To serve as an excuse for her being there.
An attempt at my life. It wasn't a bad idea.
But he never thought Izuna would take it this far just to put the blame on her. He couldn't understand why his younger brother would have gone through all of this trouble to simultaneously piss him off and mess with her head.
He simply couldn't comprehend what went through Izuna's mind. And he imagined the same thing could be said for the younger Uchiha had the roles been reversed.
Whatever.
He had yet to confront that woman about the promises he gave her, and as it happened the day he intended to have her pay her due; another disturbing matter ensued. Just his luck. It had been two full days since he found her crouching on top of Izuna, pinning him down and sliding her fingers in and out of his mouth. He had hoped that his eyes were playing some sort of trick on him, which was apparently too much to wish for.
He was stunned as much as he was confused, Madara couldn't grasp the kind of game they were playing. What part of staying away from his brother did she not understand?
If he didn't know better, he would say those two were trying to kill each other. And apparently, they were. According to the housekeeper, Mina had added peppers to Izuna's soup and spoon-fed him herself. With her own hands. He couldn't say for sure if she knew of Izuna's aversion to the food but she couldn't have been that imprudent, that…foolish.
There was always the possibility that she did indeed place the snake in his room and her reaction could have been re-enacted, while it seemed highly improbable, it was a possibility nonetheless. And if she did, in fact, plan that; she surely couldn't be dumb enough to try and take out Izuna soon after.
What was she thinking? That since she failed to take Madara down, she would try out her luck with Izuna?
No.
That didn't make any sense. Surely, she was insane enough to follow Izuna's words wherever they would lead her but Madara did not think she would pass the point of attempting to kill both brothers.
I have to find out.
He hunched over his desk, whisking the papers to the side. He called in the shinobi waiting outside.
"Uchiha-sama," Jiro bowed down. Madara grumbled as he flopped into his chair, mentally preparing for the evening ahead. His tolerance giving out.
"Get a maid to escort her, she'll be joining me for the evening," he waved him off as soon as he understood his command.
He granted her more than enough time to get her story together, it was time she started recounting it. Otherwise, Madara had no choice but to put an end to this whole charade.
Mina's POV
It wasn't easy taking a step forward when you didn't know where your foot would land next. It was something that I came to learn thoroughly within the past few weeks, and that alone had me walking on pins and needles. I was stuck in an endless loop, not knowing what would happen to me the moment after.
But I guess that was about to change, I mean, it was bound to.
Another cloudy night rolled in, covering the last of the waning twilight sky, as if the blackness failed to come fast enough. The rolling grey rapidly became as invisible as the stars it concealed, the air was still and heavy, bringing with it a cool breeze sweeping me by my feet.
Laying on the grass beneath the encroaching moonlight was a welcomed change in the midst of all the upheaval and commotion that seemed to conquer most of my nights as of late.
Why was it that life took souls from one uncomfortable place to another?
If this… this world only served to be that 'second chance' people would die for, then what was I doing wrong? Was this a punishment? A reward? This reality was no better than the one I lived in, it was much, much worse. I didn't feel like I wanted a second chance anymore, I didn't want to correct my mistakes, my misgivings, my self-indulgences. All I wanted was to go back home, my home.
It was difficult enough to do so when I always managed to get myself in some sort of trouble with either Uchiha brother.
"Fucking crazy people, I need to get away from them," I sighed out loud, I may not be able to escape in the literal sense, but the least I could do is limit my interactions with them as much as I can, I couldn't bear getting into another debacle with them, where I find myself in harm's way because of my impulsiveness. Besides, that way, I could find time for myself to actually figure out how in the living hell I got here in the first place, and how on earth could I get back. There had to be a way, there always was.
A stork did not simply drop me off in the middle of nowhere. Well, I certainly hoped not.
There were days in which I could feel my breaths get caught in my chest and then I knew the fear was gaining in on me, especially when Madara was around. Just like now. Taking deep breaths and exhaling was the only way I could use to release the constantly built-up tension.
In a way, the nightfall cocooned me, and in that same way, I felt invisible between its boundless folds as though I was protected in its velvety darkness where no one could search for me. I knew it was a lie, I could never get out of their grasps, but the momentarily sentiment of being unseen was somewhat comforting.
I guess that's enough for today.
I uncrossed my arms and sat up on the moist grass, groaning as my muscles ached with the sudden flexion. I could never wash away the memories of yesterday or the days before, but I could control how much power they held over me. And right now, the only power I was willing to take over my body was sleep.
I yawned loudly and stood to my feet, heading back into the house.
The koi fish sparkling in the water, reflecting off the bright twinkle of a white golden moon. Oh, how I envied them.
And envied them I did, for the moment my foot stepped onto the deck, a shinobi and a housemaid were awaiting me.
One of whom I recognized; that side-glances he gave me were hard to forget, much less the thinly-veiled repulsion behind them. Hair as bright as a flaming orange, this man stood out like a sore thumb among his peers. However, one couldn't deny that inherited Uchiha glare, the frown as well; there was no doubt about it.
Jiro, if I recalled correctly, was his name. The same one stood guard in front of my room the moment I arrived here. The one and only who escorted me back when Tobirama and his envoy were sent to deliver a peace treaty.
Never liked him, nor the despicable look he was giving me at the moment. However, I couldn't let him know how uncomfortable I was, or how hard I was trembling beneath my clothes; not out of fear of him, but for whatever the hell he came to deliver.
The meek woman standing at his side was just as quiet as any other servant in this house; voiceless and unapproachable.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, forcing myself to confront them.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked, puzzled by their appearance.
Standing beneath the blazing torches that lit the labyrinthine halls, the two of them exchanged glances, silently debating on who would speak first. But it didn't take long before Jiro took charge.
"Madara-sama wishes to see you."
Madara?
Though the mere mention of his name almost always sent chills up my spine, this time around— it was different. Confusion reigned, and it was obvious in the expression I wore.
"At this time of night?"
I hadn't meant to voice my thoughts, however; it just rolled off the tip of my tongue. Both of their expressions remained as steely as ever, not once faltering, not once questioning it the way I did. Maybe they knew something.
"Yes, now get going," Jiro lazily commanded, right before whispering something in a hushed tone with the maid's ear fully rendered. Just as I was about to inquire even more, the Uchiha shinobi disappeared, the same way Madara had appeared out of the blue back at the pond that day. Like though they materialized out of thin air, I was so awestruck I hadn't noticed the housekeeper tugging at my sleeves and pulling me along.
It was far too late to protest, his words echoed in my mind.
I had had one week.
In truth, I had much longer than one week. Unknowingly- or perhaps it was a conscious decision on his part- he lent me more time than he had demanded. Not that it had helped for I still had no idea what to tell him.
I looked up at the lady gently dragging me on her heels, a tall woman she was. Each step I took brought me closer to Madara, and each one of them felt heavier than the last. I strained my vocals but nothing came out. Even as beads of sweat broke out, even as my heart raced, even as cluster bombs exploded in my brain, setting it on fire; I knew I couldn't postpone it any longer.
Though I had accepted it, somewhere, deep down, it didn't make it any less scary.
But it wouldn't hurt to try, would it?
The moment we came to a stop before an unfamiliar room, I patted her shoulder and held my ground. The pretty woman turned around and looked at me, expression just as wooden as the doorframes that held the sliding shoji together.
I clasped my fingers, wishing that I would find my voice.
"Can you…"
Don't.
"Please don't…" I pleaded with her, but the words were as empty as the intent behind them. It was useless. She paid no attention to my senseless mumbling and went on to make her presence known.
"Madara-sama, I have brought her at your behest," she announced, voice steady and full of reverence. He must have answered her, though I had not heard his calling through the loud drumming of heartbeats pulsating in my ears.
She slid the beautifully crafted shoji doors open and bowed down.
For a moment, I thought I had been blinded, I could not see anything past the bridge of my nose, vision blurred by sweaty tears that never ran down, almost as though a rush of wind howled against my face, welcoming me. Which was ironically fitting, as the second that door opened, I felt as though something overwhelming nearly knock the air right out of my lungs.
As I reeled from the bout of haziness that grappled with both my fear and determination, I found myself being ushered in.
There was never enough resolve to have made this any less of a coincidence than it was.
The thud of the doors closing behind me was just like the sound of a key wedging into the locks of a cell that was this room. My own little personal prison, except I wasn't alone, and this was no prison.
Madara was settled down at the far end of the table, legs crossed as he sat on the tatami mats.
It was a low table, solid with engraved legs encrusted with beach pebbles of assorted colors. The rectangular top was formed entirely of driftwood and inlaid wood of different shades sanded to perfection. As though that wasn't enough, the tops were layered with the most delicious cooking and drinks lined the wooden trays.
Laid on the long oak table is an amount of food that on any other day would be expected to last several more. The sight of them was a tonic with the aroma of delicacies capable of making one's mouth water: except, I couldn't stand the thought of eating right now. My stomach clenched, twisted in knots as any sense of appetite immediately vanished.
In this obscure rising heat, I could barely formulate a thought. Not when I was left to fend for myself in a lion's den.
I used to make excuses so paper-thin that they blew with the wind, now I couldn't come up with one that could get me out of here. Not that I wanted to, I needed to confront him, once and for all. But for some strange reason, my feet wouldn't obey me, they wouldn't let me take another step inside this private dining room.
Madara's unreadable expression a daunting threat silently willing me to walk over. I curled my fingers around the thin fabric of my kimono's sleeves, waving it in and out to create just a little air flow, but it wasn't enough.
Come on.
I couldn't hold his piercing gaze, fixing my own on the light, trembling steps. His eyes were telling, and if he spoke, I was sure he would have ordered me to sit. And so I did, without further wanting to aggravate him. I found my seat on the opposite side of the table, still refusing to look straight into his sable black eyes. If looks could kill, I was sure he would have been the end of me long ago.
Sitting before this feast was almost insulting, knowing that this was the last place I should have been, in which I didn't deserve. Fiddling fingers beneath the table twitched with anxiousness. Building up courage for this was harder than I thought.
But I have to do it.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I was ready to apologize for my recent blunders, but as I finally raised my head with the words at the tip of my tongue, he beat me to it and uttered the first word of the night.
"Eat."
Out of all things to say, 'eat' was the last thing I would have anticipated. My mouth was full of sawdust and my brain; malfunctioning as much as if I were drunk. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or if he really expected me to follow through with this act. It didn't matter if he expected or not, it was what he wanted.
And if complying led me down the path of least resistance and slightest retaliation, then comply I did.
I picked up the chop-sticks, slowly twirling my fingers, fidgeting through the painstaking torture of just sitting here. It was an odd feeling; I could barely bring myself to look at him a mere moment ago, yet now…I couldn't tear them away. How effortlessly every flick of his wrist looked, every tiny movement, every bat of an eyelash—how was he so at ease?
He picked up his bowl, and dug in, each skillful and nimble action moved soundlessly. The swift movements of those hands didn't belong to a man quaking with anger, nor a man overcome by exasperation, much less; a man struck with restlessness.
I could barely stand the thought of food entering my belly, as I watched him, frayed nerves got the best of me. I knew he was dragging the inevitable out, and I couldn't do anything about it. He gave me a look over the edge of his bowl, almost as daring as the puzzling expression he wore.
I was careful not to allow the delicious food touch my lips, hoping that it would slide down my throat and quieten the agitated grumbling of my stomach. There was a fraught silence, but not for long.
In his stillness, he scared me. Perhaps it was the moonlight reflecting on his already pale skin, of the lack of wind letting every hair lock hang without movement, I was not sure. He thudded his cup on the table, his eyes never once blinking as they stared at me. An ominous smile graced his lips, reminding me that- despite the cordially embellished room, the bloody crimson curtains hanging down the impeccably crafted walls and the warmly prepared dishes— this was still a lion's den, and I was caught right between his fangs.
How deceiving, it was.
I didn't even blink as I looked past his shoulders, just kept my eyes on the nebulous pond outside, as if it whispered secrets to me.
"I've heard you just tried to kill my brother," he scorned, his grinning contempt clearly riddled across his face. His tone laden with the usual dark edge that came to him naturally. My tremoring fingers lost grip of the wooden sticks, accidentally sliding them back into the soup. My breath seemed to stutter in my lungs before I let it go, feeling the tension drain from my body.
"You forgot the part where I saved him," I retorted weakly, void of all the sarcasm and wittiness that I wanted to desperately hold. Instead, the words tumbled out like self-deprecating rubbish. My eyes glazed over the endless swirls of a steaming soup, the heat radiating giving color to my ashen face.
"You could have saved yourself the trouble if you hadn't attempted to kill him in the first place," he answered back, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.
I took breathing for granted until the day he managed to steal the air from my lungs. I took it for granted until my ribs became steel traps.
I stopped fidgeting with the chop sticks once more and placed them down next to the uneaten bowl for the last time. It took all the efforts in my body not to twirl a strand of my hair, not to bite my fingernails, not to break down into a nervous mess.
Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself.
"Besides, I wouldn't have called that saving. You've actually made it worse from what I heard."
I looked up and saw him drinking, with each gulp, his Adam's apple bobbed violently as the liquor drizzled down his mighty throat.
As much as I was grateful that Izuna was alive, again; I couldn't help but wish that he wasn't. Had he choked on his own vomit, I would have been in an even bigger issue, and perhaps, six feet underground. My resentment bubbled to the surface, and before I could stop it; the words were already out.
"All the better."
Although my voice was barely a hush above a whisper, Madara picked it up and laid his cup down. The sick amusement in his demeanor vanishing, his sturdy and authoritative cast taking over. This was it, he couldn't postpone it a moment longer, and I didn't want him to.
I bit my lips, forcing myself to come to terms with my current situation, and the only way I could possibly hope for this to come to an end quickly, was the fact that I needed to make the first move.
Here it goes.
"I'm incredibly sorry, it was never my intention but no matter how many times I tell it to you over and over, I know my apologies are useless to a person like you. In my defense, I didn't know he was allergic. I swear on my life," I raised my hands in surrender.
All I got was a stony glare in return. I visibly wilted before his first clipped word was uttered. He probably thought this was one of my games, and it was obvious he had no patience to go along with it. Except, it wasn't a game.
But who was I kidding, I could hear nothing but the pathetic excuses running off of my mouth. Nothing but pitiful justifications and senseless pitying, it was sad that I couldn't even handle the ramifications of my own actions. No matter how hard I tried to rationalize this so I could save my skin, if I couldn't buy my own pretense, how could I expect Madara to?
I lowered my head in shame, and exhaled loudly. How could I fix this?
He crossed his arms and was about to say something but I interrupted him, not giving him the chance to sink his claws into me and lead me into confessing things that were untrue.
"Look at it this way," I pleaded, "if I truly did want to kill you back that night and couldn't. Why would I purposely try to take out your brother less than a week since?" I asked, hoping that he lent himself the moment to suspend belief, even for a mere second, and see beyond reasonable doubt. Perhaps justifying my actions was my greatest mistake, at the very least, following the logic of events would somehow alleviate some of the guilt he chained to my person.
"As careless as it seems, it would take someone immensely stupid to attempt something like that."
The description of which appeared to fit me carefully. I dropped my hands to my knees, clutching them tightly as nails dug deep into my palms.
I could feel the perspiration underneath my arms, lathering the tips of my fingers and the crook of my neck beneath the collar; all of which were proofs of my growing agitation, irritation at how I only seemed to be digging a bigger hole for myself.
"So what were you doing in my room that night?" he took the bait and steered the conversation into another direction, although I wasn't sure it was a much better alternative.
"I…" I stammered, trying to figure out the correct words before making a fool of myself.
"Like I said, Izun- your brother dragged me there under the guise that you had wanted to see me." He continued to glare at me, likely wondering if what I was saying was true or not.
"If you don't believe me, ask him. Although he'll lie right through his teeth but that only goes to prove my point."
Madara held my gaze, his stare masking the icy hostility underneath it. Below the unmoving eyes was a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. It dawned on me that the only thing separating us was this mere table, these delicate fragile dishes. Nothing could stop him from bending over and wrapping his hefty hands around my throat.
I gulped loudly.
"Did I not tell you to stay away from him?" Madara drawled out threateningly as he brushed the brim of his cup dangerously slow, all the while reminding me of the unheeded warning he gave me.
It took every inch of fibers in my being not to flinch at his words, knowing full well I was the only person to blame for this mess. I stared at him with wide eyes, a fool's smile painted across my lips. Beads of sweat slithered down the side of my face.
How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?
But I didn't need to.
"A piece of advice, don't ever barge into my room unannounced. Not even if Izuna claims there is a basket full of cookies in there. Do I make myself clear?" Madara's sharp features and deadly look contrasted with the unusually impish tone of his words, he didn't strike me as a man with a dry sense of humor, let alone a sense of humor at all.
Oh God, stop smiling!
The stupid smirk I wore was frozen in place, my cheeks unwilling to let go. My eyes betraying my feigned amused expression.
"I wouldn't dream of it," I joked half-heartedly, unsure whether he meant it as such or not, "h-ha?"
For fuck's sake, stop talking. Just stop.
My remark seemed to have caught him off guard, he raised an eyebrow, sceptical of his own hearing ability no doubt. He stopped momentarily with the clay cup resting between his fingers, he uncrossed his arms before returning back to what he had intended to do.
The Uchiha slugged down the rest of his drink in one chug, instantly reminding me of how parched I was. He then slammed the sake cup on the table with force before wiping away a single drop of liquor from his lips with the pad of his thumb.
"Alright then, enough with the pleasantries," Madara hissed, his voice bringing the temperature of the room down a few degrees, while easily wiping the dumb smirk off of my face.
"I believe you owe me something, isn't that right?"