It makes sense now, after all these years to blame anyone but myself for what happened. And sometimes, in the bad days when my guilt pushes me down with crippling strength, I wonder if there was something I could have done different.

-Crash-

"I have half a mind to be offended, for you seem to avoid me, Uchiha-dono." She stepped out of the trees' shadow, her chakra invisible, the pale skin of her face bathed in moonlight.

Avoid her, yes he had been trying his damnable best to do that. Hashirama's betrothed, for he always reminded himself of her status, was the one person he truly went out of his way to avoid. He had to. He needed time to erase the image of her fury, still needed time to forget how she looked back then on the battlefield, blood hair whirling about like a storm. He had to forget all that, replace it with the picture of her proper attitude, her status, and her future role in Hashirama's life.

"How unfortunate that you would think that, Lady Mito," he replied flippantly, keeping his back toward her. "As you can see, I am busy." He returned to his katas, content that he was sufficiently crass for a lady as herself to feel offended, walk off and never give him her time of day ever again.

Mito's dainty steps shuffled toward him, the swish of her silks too audible in the air's stillness. "You are dreadfully conceited to believe that such words will push me away, Uchiha-dono."

Madara could hear her, even with his back turned. She was close, much too close for his tastes, and yet a dark curl of desire inside him lamented at how far away she still was. He squashed that thought with vicious precision, obstinately keeping his back to her. She pulled at his elbow, forcing him to turn and Madara stiffened, yet mere seconds later yielded to her gentle prodding.

"What eats at your mind, Uchiha-dono?"

"I appreciate the concern, Lady Mito, but it is misplaced," he said, voice laced with a sneer. "Perhaps you should direct it toward your future husband?"

She flinched back as if slapped, indignation painted on her beautiful face. "For you to speak such words!"

She was livid. Madara could clearly see it, and in her anger the carefully constructed chains that kept her temper in check were snapping loose.

"Do all mainlanders consider a person's heart so small and selfish to merely contain one other?"

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, making his eyes widen in shock and dare he say, hope. Yet he could see by the crimson staining her cheeks and parted lips, that she was equally perplexed by them.

"Your care is wasted, Lady Mito," he said, desperate to put some distance between them.

But Mito was like a storm unleashed, a wave that had built up in the depths of the ocean and was now inevitably going to crash into the shore.

"I thought we connected, I thought we were…"

"What?"

"Friends," she said, and it pierced him easier than a well-sharpened blade.

Friends. Of course.

Swallowing the bitter-sweet essence of his disappointment, Madara brought his hand up to cover hers. "Of course, we are."

He left her there in the clearing, thinking how he could ever justify the fire in his soul burning for his… friend. Then again, he was quite adept at it.