団
扇
大
要
|| The Phantasmagoria Current ||
By: Chocolate Carnival
2020
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Dark Eroticism, Canon Divergence,
Dark, Time Travel, Soulmate AU
Pairing: 団扇 佐助||Uchiha Sasuke,団扇 斑 || Uchiha Madara
伝説一: The Binary Forest
The phosphorescent tide of an elemental lightning strike echoed deafeningly in the distance, arctic embers of white trailing tongues of flame across thinly veiled horizons as battleworn trees bowed lifelessly in the wind. Amidst the cloudless storm of fire and ice, the world announced his arrival with a resounding thunderclap.
Time and space seemed to winnow at his whimsy, the very universe tremoring in his wake as Uchiha Sasuke gazed numbly at the spiralling heavens above. Pained limbs were left sinking helplessly in bedewed grass, the burnt-ozone crackle of his last Chidori Kirin dispersing uselessly in the distance as reality shimmered.
His mind was a haze of blood, fire and ash…a resounding tide of leftover battle-adrenalin igniting sharply beneath pale skin as the heated prowess of an active sharingan spun languidly in his right eyesocket. Chin-length ebony locks — darker than ink and bluer than the midnight stratos; concealed the left.
Gloved fingertips were left grasping mindlessly at freshly detonated earth, waves of immense chakra echoing unrestrainedly from emotionally strained coils as his mind struggled to analyze the abrupt change in his surroundings. It had been a long time since he last felt so helpless, he mused. Intensely fluctuating senses desperately trying to unravel the complex knot of wrongness-danger-don't move that twisted his insides.
It was twelve ri1 to the borders of Konoha, he reminded himself. Yet, not a single blade of grass, shrub, branch or animal path was remotely familiar. The entire forest had become a labyrinth of twisted pathways, unyielding streams, battle-scorched earth and a warring chakra so dense the very soil tremored beneath his feet.
The grove was completely different from the damage Sasuke dealt his opponent mere moments before, the unknown shinobi team having fallen prey to a merciless Sharingan and sheer prodigious skill. And though another plan to disrupt the delicate balance erected between the Five Elemental Nations after the Fourth Great Shinobi War had successfully been foiled, the Last Uchiha was left grasping at straws as to how he had ended up here.
There was no choice but to force himself to his feet, a fresh wave of agony threatening to consume him from the inside as he slid into a dazed but battle-ready stance. The centre of the large crater he found himself in was significantly larger than the damage he created himself. Not to mention, the balmy afternoon sunlight had abruptly given way to a menacing midnight moon falling low on the horizon.
A brief but familiar flash of chakra wove trails of caution through the bitter night air, heavy winter winds howling deafeningly in the distance as the encompassing darkness evoked memories the Sasaukage suppressed long ago—.
—memories buried twelve years in the past.
It was as if Sasuke had slipped into a different dimension, an abrupt and unannounced presence stalling the very breath in his lungs as various fluctuating chakra signatures approached from the east. He activated his Mangekyō Sharingan to disperse the lingering effects of genjutsu, only to find none.
There was barely enough time to conceal his frame in the midnight darkness, expert fingers unsheathing the razor-sharp chokutō at his waist as time hushed. It came as a great surprise when metal collided against metal, the sheer force of the blow sending marigold embers dancing through the night.
The resounding vibration trembled unexpectedly through his right arm, a speedy flow of taijutsu threatening to overwhelm already strained senses as only years of experience offered the Last Uchiha enough opportunity to force his opponent back. He was forced to waste several moments analysing the current threat, his mind was only vaguely aware of nine other chakra signatures approaching in a wide formation to his left—.
"Fuck!"
"What are you doing here, Uchiha?! These are Senju lands!" A voice interrupted.
"Sneak attacks should be confined to the battlefield!" That brought screaming senses to a halt, a single Sharingan eye widening in surprise as the twenty-eight-year-old leapt back several times to open up a larger distance between them. Even through muddled thoughts, he recognized the man.
His mind was barely able to comprehend the impossibility of those spiky silver locks, red-red eyes and tri-marked features. There was no doubt he was looking at Tobirama Senju, the impossibly young — should be dead — Nidaime Hokage.
The silver haired shinobi looked every bit as menacing as the portrait hung in the Hokage's Office, his scarlet eyes now staring at the dark-haired shinobi as if he was currently the biggest threat.
Sasuke could only let loose another violent curse, swiftly turning tail and fleeing into the dense forest as an enormous sycamore; tall enough to pierce the sky and entwine itself in a veil of sage chakra, provided momentary escape.
A pale forehead came to rest against black bark, chakra enhanced senses determined to stretch further than his current state of exhaustion would allow as he tracked a small settlement situated not too far from a prosperous mountain basin. It was only when an answering chakra collided violently with his, that his mind stalled.
Why the fuck did he have to be dropped in the middle of a centuries' old war, he mourned. Why now?
It was one thing to escape Tobirama Senju in this era, he mused. But another thing entirely to draw the attention of that. The familiarity of His power was both dizzyingly intoxicating and terrifying dark, a soul deep heat-fire-determination shrouded in darkness so profound it rivalled the hatred Sasuke possessed once upon a time too.
Shit! Sharingan eyes automatically sought His frame in the dark, furrowed brows tracking several human figures milling in the man's encompassing shadow as a strange, water-like, calm settled his senses. The Patriarch seemed to be seated nonchalantly atop the settlement's tallest rooftop, the last Uchiha's Mangekyō wilfully searing the image of his power into the depths of his consciousness.
There was but one name he could attach to that man, the same name he once both cursed and revered once upon a time.
"Uchiha Madara."
. . .
Suspended in the liminal space between bitter morning dawn and a blackened evening dusk, the famed Uchiha Patriarch found himself captive to the rays of a gossamer moon. An encompassing wind made it the perfect night for contemplation, a quiet kiss of forbearance lingering on the curve of his brow as dark eyes shifted towards thinly veiled horizons.
Something was coming.
Raising his forearm against a propped-up knee, dark fingertips steadied a kunai in the palm of his hand as he gazed at the clan's growing prosperity in the valley below. His shadow was entangled with the eaves of the compound's largest tenshu, black gloves carefully discarded in a moment of rare indulgence as Sharingan eyes traced the red line of fate twined around his left pinkie finger.
The sight of it brough forth memories he had long forgotten, memories of cold nights spent in his mother's futon as she recounted tales of Uchiha lore that both transcended the bonds of fate and those precious souls shackled to them in eternal orbit.
Whoever was marked by the fated crimson thread, she had said, was promised a love hotter than the fires of hell and deeper than the depths of the ocean. It was the type of romantic drivel many a clansman viciously rejected purely on principle; he mused. A sign of weakness meant to expose the neatly tied string leading to one's other-half.
Uchiha Madara was never one to bow to convention. He absolutely refused to follow his clans' standards and ignore the thread's very existence. His vast power and sheer determination afforded him enough perspective to see things differently, making it a prerogative to find the person bound to his soul and twine their lives together for eternity.
Alas, regardless of his inner turmoil and boundless anticipation, not a single soul had shown enough promise to stand toe-to-toe with him in all twenty-six years of his life. Tonight however, tonight he felt as if he was standing on a precipice.
It shattered abruptly with a resounding thunderclap, an unexpected trail of phosphorescent lightning severing the sky in twain as the very universe tremored in its wake. The resulting storm seemed to electrify the Uchiha's surroundings, dark eyes instinctively drawn to the distance as he spread a wall of chakra in warning.
Time seemed to stall, a wild mane of waist-length tresses dancing haplessly in the wind as a vibrant and unexpected clash of power rose defiantly against his. His world shifted, breathless anticipation building sharply in coiled limbs as the Uchiha Patriarch worried his lip at the brief clash of Senju chakra pursuing his prey through the night.
He wouldn't dare admit to the violent lurch of fear hitching his breath, a wave of anxiety weaving images of bloody war and death in the depths of his mind as he struggled to understand why he was showing concern for a potential threat invading these war-torn lands. It wasn't until he felt overwhelming burn of those eyes that he understood.
Madara's chakra ignited the darkness like a beacon, the leader of the Uchiha clan resettling formfitting gloves on elegant fingertips as he forced himself to his feet. He was determined to conceal the little-known traditional inheritance running through the main family line.
A sharp smirk tickled the wide collar of his typical Uchiha tunic, a crimson and white fan proudly emblazoned on his back as he automatically reached for a weapon in preparation for what was to come. It arrived not long after, perfectly executed shunshin moving faster than the any Madara had seen before as a lithe figure came to a halt on the opposite end of the rooftop.
The Uchiha Head could feel his clansmen stir in the shadows, his brother no likely already aware of another's trespass through their blood seal as he locked eyes with his prey.
Sharingan to Sharingan they stared, the sight bringing all hostility to a halt as a frown furrowed dark brows. Madara could easily trace the familiar colouring of his clan in the man's features, the strange but obvious likeness to Izuna and—.
"You are Uchiha." He rumbled, mind swiftly combing through the images of his clan members to find one similar to the man standing before him. There was none. Sensing no direct hostility from the Uchiha Patriarch however, the dark-haired stranger removed fingerless-gloves from the chokutō at his waist.
The heavy fabric of his cloak rustled restlessly in the wind, the richness of a periwinkle-silk lining complementing the man's pale complexion as he straightened himself from a confrontational stance. The left half of his face was concealed by long ebony bangs, a brief smirk touching the corner of pale lips as he tipped his head in a respectful bow.
"Hn." Was his only reply.
He was startlingly beautiful, lithe and tall…taller than Madara himself and possessed a haunting pride enough to make the twenty-four-year-old uncomfortable. Crease-lined eyes flicked to the side with an uncharacteristic dusting of pink colouring pale cheeks. He wasn't sure exactly what prompted the reaction in him, but he was determined to stamp it out.
Smoothing a renewed glare in Mangekyō activated eyes, he stiffened his stance in preparation for confrontation. The howling agony of the bloodline activation made his vision swim for a brief moment, a familiar presence suddenly landing at his back as he tightened his grip on the weapon concealed in his hand.
"Who are you?"
"A wanderer." Came the stoic reply, a rich voice calm and collected despite the look of haunted regret that clouded his visible right eye. He released his Sharingan glare almost simultaneously, as if he was careful not the invoke the wrath of the Patriarch or impose on his power.
Strangely enough though, to a sensor type like Madara, he was well aware the 'wanderer' was nowhere near weakened by the mere deactivation of his bloodline trait. Nor was he inclined to show reverence for the Clan Head simply because of his standing. No, this man held something far more deadly than what he liked others to believe — a fierce independence and little fear of the consequence.
"A name, wanderer. I won't allow you a step closer without one." Madara hissed, briefly brought back to himself by Izuna resting a calming hand on his shoulder. Their dark-haired companion seemed to still at the movement, a quiet shake of his head drawing a dark eye to Madara's once more before his shoulders slumped in a sudden display of exhaustion.
"Sasuke." He replied softly, almost afraid of the consequences of revealing his name in this era. It was not an uncommon reaction, Madara mused. Though he tasted the name briefly in thought, unable to escape the obsessive madness that seemed to colour his insides at its sound and echo.
"Uchiha Sasuke." The man reiterated and Madara nodded, satisfied for now to allow the strange a moment of respite before dragging him inside the interior of his house for more answers.
1 Ri (里) – Old Unit of Japanese measurement, 1 ri = 3.9 km.
団扇大要 - Uchiha Taiyo [The Uchiha Compendium]
伝説一 - Densetsu Ichi [First Legend]
Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I know it's kind of short currently, yet I felt I had to set the scene for what is to come. :)
If I could, so kindly, ask for a tiny little review that would make my absolute day before I have to jump off to Uni work again.
Other than that,
Thanks, darlings. I'll see you again soon.