Next update will be on Monday.
Compass of thy Soul
Tajima-sama gives her several more kimono; of course he does. She's almost seventeen now, as tall as she is probably ever going to get and about to spend at least a month in the capital being constantly seen by people Tajima-sama wants to keep up appearances in front of. They are all exquisite, and again the actual kimono are not new even though the nagajuban and warmly padded under-shirts and slips are; more of his wife's wardrobe, Kita suspects. Nothing inappropriate for an unmarried woman though, so they must be what she wore when Tajima-sama was courting her, set aside for a potential future daughter.
She's mostly surprised –pleased, but surprised– that he's not pressed Madara into buying her kimono as well yet. Then again, Madara's been buying her all manner of impeccably appropriate things for birthdays and occasionally just because, so maybe Tajima-sama's leaving his son to gradually work his way up to it by himself?
Because, practically speaking, all the things Madara is giving her are things that, were she from a wealthy family and marrying into the Uchiha, would be part of her trousseau. The mirror and stand, the combs and jewellery boxes, the writing box and boxes for storing paper, the incense boxes, the bowls, the clothing stand and the full-size screen… all commissioned with a common colour scheme and similar elements in the lacquered patterns without being boringly identical.
Then there are the playing cards, the books, the prints and paintings, the calligraphy scrolls he has done himself, the little packets of rare dyes, the steel needles, the bolts of fabric –not quite a kimono yet but potentially heading that way– and, of course, her couple-teacups and personal pot.
Kita has no idea what happened to Madara's mother's trousseau, since she would certainly have had one. It might well be packed away in the loft, awaiting an Amaterasu granddaughter. Naka-sama's will be set aside for when Benten marries; Tajima-sama's mother's trousseau is in Ohabari-oba's possession, her being the only daughter so having the right to it. Mama doesn't really have one; Grandma probably did since Great-Grandma would have made sure, but Grandma had five daughters so her things probably got divided up, with the important symbolic items getting reused and eventually ending up scattered.
Ohabari-oba's education included making sure Kita is aware of all the things that belong in a traditional trousseau. Madara has so far provided all of the more mundane items –she can't call them inexpensive, not when he's clearly patronising a master craftsman– and the items he hasn't bought her yet rather… stand out.
A musical instrument. A tea ceremony chest and utensils. Tableware. Kimono. And, of course, the box containing a shell-matching game, which is even used in the wedding ceremony itself.
Madara is going to be twenty this winter; in three years' time Kita will have her own coming-of-age and they will be expected to set a date to marry. It feels so much closer now than it did even this time last year.
Tajima-sama did indeed ask –demand– her opinion on who to take, grilled her on why, casually filleted a few of her assumptions and then went along with most of her suggestions. Taka is not coming: she will be advising Hikaku on the running of the Outguard in Tajima-sama's absence, as her experience leading missions in the Outguard is not insignificant and neither is her grasp of strategy. It does not need to be said that Tajima-sama likely also feels it unwise to remove three of the clan's four Mangekyō users to the capital, for all that Taka rarely uses hers. Tajima-sama's point that Taka's loss is too recent and she hates the Senju too passionately to be civil is also a good one and something Kita should have considered.
Inemi-chan will come, as continuity from last time and to represent the Inari lineage, and Asami-chan of the Konjin lineage will accompany her as Kita's fellow attendant and additional security; Asami-chan is a trap-master in the Homeguard and can layer triggered genjutsu, in addition to knowing a great deal about poetry.
Tajima-sama is taking Ikazuchi of the Raiden lineage and Homusubi of the Kōjin lineage along with his brother-in-law Tsuyoshi, all of whom are longstanding members of the Outguard and personal allies. Tsuyoshi is the oldest of the three, but they are all younger than Tajima-sama and Ikazuchi isn't married at all. Homusubi has a three-year-old son and his wife is a retired Outguard colleague; their presence in the delegation honours their lineages as both are closely related to their respective lineage heads, but it remains clear that Tajima-sama is highlighting his own authority in the choices he is making.
Kita doubts anybody is actually surprised by this.
Madara is not such a fool that he can't recognise the emotion bubbling in his chest as they approach the capital at regular walking speed as terror. He's terrified. Not for himself –the worst he will face is embarrassment and possibly public censure– but for Kita. Kita who has a brilliant mind and plenty of cunning, is more than capable with a naginata and surprisingly quick with a knife, but who really struggles with handseals despite her nimbleness with wire, needles and koto strings and has such a mental block when it comes to using the names of jutsu as focusing mantras that her Great Fireball is more controlled when she makes it silent and sealless.
She only mastered that very recently indeed, but it's something. Madara doesn't think Kita's weak –far from it– but she's not powerful in a way that other shinobi clan heads are likely to respect and her calm calculation is easily mistaken for submission.
The worst part is that Kita trusts the daimyo's protection. She genuinely doesn't believe that any of the other clans will risk outright censure on the off-chance that harming her will knock him off-balance. It's a terribly logical and practical perspective, but Madara knows that truthfully, there are people –Uchiha people even– who in the moment only think of their own emotions and gains. They don't see the price and the potential for disaster until it's far too late.
At least Kita has Asami, who is a terror when given time to prepare her battleground, and Inemi who has a keen ear for politics and is in the process of inheriting about a third of the clan's letter-writing intelligence network from her great-aunt. They're both a little more grounded in the cynical realities than his betrothed, who does her best to see good in everybody. Which he does appreciate, he really does, but… it can be nerve-racking.
Kita noticed he was worried before they left and invited him into her rooms while she was packing, which was a little awkward –clothes everywhere– but as she folded and layered and filled her portable chest and the seal painted in the bottom with clothing, books, embroidery projects, a letter box and various other odds and ends, she had explained a little about the position of women in the daimyo's court, from Murasaki-sama and her chosen ladies and attendants down to the wives and daughters of ministers, advisors and the rest of the nobility. It's not a world Madara knows, but that Kita does is promising. She calls it 'a different kind of battlefield, fought with poetry and gracious smiles and gifts that hide calculation and the hope for advancement' and Madara can sort-of see that, in that now she's mentioned it he can fit that into what little he's seen of the daimyo's court before.
He'll have to pay more attention this time.
She asked him to have faith in her, faith that she knows what she's doing and knows when to request reinforcements, and Madara is going to have to hold her to that, because as his father's heir he's going to be expected to follow behind Father everywhere. Izuna will have more freedom –well he will if Father allows him to– but really, the only truly mobile member of their party is Kita and Madara knows his father is going to exploit that as ruthlessly as he can.
The only good thing Madara can say about that is that at least his father recognises Kita's pacifistic and altruistic streak as beneficial to the clan. Yes, the war has been dreadful but financially speaking they're on fairly steady ground compared to where they have been in the past. Kita's got a good head for numbers, a knack for trade and her seals mean the Uchiha barely lose anything to rot, vermin or mischance these days.
Her nightmare-defeating omamori seals have helped reduce deaths from exhaustion, distraction and misadventure in the Outguard as well. Which has likely brought up income too, due to having more people to run missions.
As the city walls loom closer, Madara steels himself and resolves to learn this battlefield too. He can learn anything he sets his mind to, can master anything he sets his mind to –has done so many times before– and this will be no different. Like Kita says, it is simply a different type of battlefield, with different weapons and different kinds of victory, and Madara knows he is exceptionally good at war.
He would like the chance to find out if he can be good at peace as well.
The trip to the capital is done wearing work clothes, wraps and coats, all nine of them bundled up with hair tied back so as to look as interchangeable and androgynous as possible. They will of course have to dress formally and gender-appropriately once they arrive, but for now this is safer. From a distance they look like a regular mission group –even with Ikazuchi balancing her wheeled chest on his shoulder like it weighs nothing– rather than a formal delegation to the daimyo.
Kita argued for the chest; having furniture is an important part of entertaining and she has to bring it to keep her kimono in while she is here, if only to obscure the umbrella bag seals a little longer. Yes, many other shinobi use storage scrolls, but you can't exactly keep clothes in a scroll without crumpling them all every time you take them out. Making a scroll wide enough to not crumple clothing being removed from it would be a specialty order and probably very expensive to boot. So, if your choice was between lugging a chest around and having slightly rumpled clothing, most people would go for the wrinkles.
Tajima-sama looked like he'd only given the order to see how she'd counter it; at least, she thinks that's what that slight amusement means. He'd then added a sealed jar of freshly-ground matcha to her chest along with his own tea ceremony chest, casually implied he expected her to take on the burden of hosting and then smugly left her to panic quietly for the entire journey.
She is still not good at performing tea ceremony!
They arrive late in the evening –cunning of Tajima-sama as it's too late for formalities and after a long day on the road and a late night, expecting early morning attendance would be inhospitable– and are swiftly corralled into a self-contained suite that is essentially a smaller version of the clan hall back at the compound, complete with a large formal garden surrounding it and a small tea house off to one side.
"Rotating watch," Tajima-sama says curtly to Tsuyoshi after examining every room. The other man nods and turns to Homusubi and Ikazuchi, who quickly open the shōji of the room overlooking the nearest wing of the palace. The guest suite has a designated central meeting room, a smaller room behind it with an iori which is in turn connected to kitchen and a short passage leading to a tiny private bath house, then two empty rooms on either side of the main room. "Izuna, with me; Madara, with your betrothed. Girls, the last room."
Madara stiffens, eyes instantly darting to her face.
"Would you help me with my trunk, Madara-san?" Kita asks lightly. She's not upset; Madara sleeps in her room regularly and at least this way he won't sleepwalk over out of stress. In unfamiliar surroundings he could wander off anywhere; it's not like he's in control while sleepwalking.
Her betrothed ducks his head, face reddening, and does as she requests. He claims the room furthest from both the front door and the newly-established guard room for them, which has a shōji overlooking the garden and a limited view of the vine-covered wall past the trees, separating their guest house from the rest of the grounds.
"Kita, I–"
Kita turns quickly, slides the shōji closed behind them and lifts a finger to his lips. "Madara," she asks gently but firmly, "are you uncomfortable with sharing a bed with me while we're here?"
Madara blinks rapidly at that reframing. "No?" He admits after a pause, face somehow redder.
"Good." She smiles at him. "It's going to be cold at night and you're very warm."
"Oh, so it's about you wanting to press your freezing feet into the backs of my knees," Madara banters back, his skin fading to a less alarming shade. "I should have guessed."
"Yes, you should have," Kita agrees cheekily, opening her chest and carefully removing the tea chest and sealed jar of matcha, setting them to one side of the shōji leading into the main room, then lifting out the futon occupying most of the rest of the space. As a full delegation, they are expected to bring everything they might need themselves other than food and basic furniture, and a futon is not 'basic'. Cushions are basic. Pans, a kettle and a hook over the iori are basic, as are plates and guest teacups. Tatami are basic. Indoor slippers lined up in the genkan are basic. Everything else is extra.
Madara takes the futon off her and unrolls it, shaking it out as she lifts out the sheets and blankets to reveal the seal underneath. Next up, her clothes rack.
As she unpacks Madara removes a folding armour rack and small clothes rack from his umbrella bag, followed by a small table with a drawer for paper or letters, a writing box, several minimally decorated lacquered boxes in varying sizes, three different kimono and their associated undershirts, a wash stand and what appears to be a miniature bench, the purpose of which is instantly revealed as Madara loads a few books and little sculptures onto it, changing the arrangement a few times until he is satisfied.
It certainly gives the room a casually lived-in feel. Kita meanwhile hangs her own kimono and associated layers over her own clothes rack –considerably more material that Madara has to deal with, even counting his hakama– takes out her screen to block off a corner of the room to change in and leave the futon behind during the day, removes her dressing table and mirror and box of kanzashi, arranges her own wash stand and miniature writing table and takes care to clear out the seal completely, finally placing her sewing bag over it. She then closes the chest, places a few books and pair of vases on top –she will have to find some suitably aesthetic branches to place in them later– and turns around holding what she had intended as Madara's birthday present.
He's taken advantage of her being busy with her chest to slip out to the wash room and come back cleaner, already wearing his sleeping robe, adding his other garments to a vacant part of the clothes rack. Inemi will wash them later; the palace does offer a laundry service, but Tajima-sama doesn't trust it so Inemi will have to clean everybody's clothes herself.
"Madara, I planned this as your twentieth birthday present," she tells him as he notices the washi-wrapped package in her arms, "but with us being summoned here I felt I should give it to you sooner." She would have done this properly, except they're likely to wake up to events already being in motion so the sooner she gives this to him the better.
Madara carefully unfolds the washi. "Kita, is this your silk?" He asks, deftly lifting out the pale green-gold kimono she has woven for him with her own hands, with its arrowhead leaf pattern and pale grey lining, then the plain haori also in her tenran, the charcoal undershirt in regular silk and the matching charcoal-and-smoke double-sided obi with the diamond pattern.
"When I visited here last and spoke to the Minister of Sericulture," Kita says shyly, knowing she has gone red, "I told him I wanted to dress you with my own hands." She has woven and stitched everything he is holding, even the obi which she spent almost a month tearing her hair over last winter; designing her own pattern was possibly a little over-ambitious.
Madara has gone red again and almost fumbles the obi, so he has definitely caught all the implications there. "I, um, can I–?" He asks, voice cracking and eyes very wide.
"Yes, yes you may," Kita replies, bowing to hide her own embarrassment at how her voice is wobbling. "Was there anybody else in the bathhouse?"
"Father and Izuna were there before me," Madara says, seizing the change of subject gratefully, "and Tsuyoshi and Homusubi went in right after me, so it will only be Inemi or Asami if anyone."
"I shall have a quick wash as well then," Kita decides, grabbing her towel and night gear. "Would you like me to braid your hair when I get back?"
"Thank you," Madara agrees, turning to carefully and reverently hang his new clothes alongside the others. Kita feels her heart swell at the sight, turns and quickly picks up her toiletries before fleeing the room as quickly as is decorous, pressing both hands to her scarlet cheeks once she's alone in the bath house and wiping away a few overwhelmed tears.
If she's like this now, how much worse will it be once he's wearing them?!
Kita has given him clothes.
Kita has given him clothes. Beautiful clothing she has made herself, for him.
Madara has been agonising about maybe buying his betrothed a kimono and feeling secretly hot and awkward over the idea of seeing her in something he has picked out or even specially commissioned, and in the meantime she has been making clothes for him. The idea of wearing these, that he will be dressed in the work of her hands, that silk she –and only she– has touched will be sliding across his skin–
He gently leans his head against his kimono rack and groans. He wants her. He knows he wants her, in a time of her own choosing of course, but still. Now he knows she wants him too. Might not yet be sure what she wants exactly, but the feeling has just been established as very definitely mutual. And her presenting him with so many weeks' work after the busy year she's had implies that this has been building up for some time.
Well over a year, considering what she apparently told the Minister on her last visit eighteen months ago. Maybe as far back as when she was embroidering his goshawk on her obi.
Madara groans again, covering his face with both hands and wishing –hopelessly– that his emotions were a little easier to control. He knows he must be as scarlet as when he was first learning the Great Fireball and burned his whole face by accident; he can feel the heat under his skin. How can she do this to him? Nobody else can make him blush like this, not even Hashirama at his most embarrassing!
Knowing that in a little while they will be getting into bed together, that he will get to hold her in his arms in the dark and press his face against the back of her neck, really, really does not help.
Kita wakes up hungry, so takes the jug off her washstand and heads for the kitchen. There will be something she can nibble on as she heats water in the kettle, dried persimmons or maybe fresh oranges of some kind. Ikazuchi is the only other person awake –she can feel him sitting on the engawa outside the room Tsuyoshi and Homusubi are sleeping in– which is unusual, but she guesses the men are all still experiencing sleep debt from eighteen months of constantly having to be on their guard. Sleeping in a little here won't do them any harm.
What's keeping Inemi and Asami abed could be anything. Maybe it took them a while longer to get to sleep? They were still awake when she dropped off.
The kitchen has sweet oranges; Kita peels one after filling the kettle from the tap –the capital has running water piped everywhere rather than pumps and wells– and coaxing the embers in the iori back to life. The water doesn't need to be hot; warm is more than enough. The capital is way south of Uchiha lands and a good way east, so it's warmer and less damp; there's always water in the air at home, what with the compound not being tremendously far from the borders with Rain and River and there being a constant westerly breeze coming out of Wind to push the moisture back at them.
The daimyo's city is also built on a massive plain surrounded by rice fields, rather than in the forested gently rolling hills the Uchiha compound is nestled amongst. Where they are now is both further south and closer to sea level, so the weather being milder is not really a surprise.
Her water warmed, Kita fills her jug, refills the kettle and hangs it back over the iori, but a little higher; this way it will warm slowly and not boil, but whoever wakes next will not have to do as much for wash water.
Kita is casually dressed in her uchiwa kimono and pinning her hair up when she senses somebody walking towards their guest house; Ikazuchi has already seen them and doesn't appear concerned, so it's probably a servant bringing food. By the time she's finished with her hair they have left again, but Ikazuchi has placed a bamboo basket on the kitchen worktop and a stack of letters in the alcove in the main room, so Kita guesses they are what was brought.
Invitations, notifications and breakfast ingredients, including cleaned ayu and a ceramic bowl of freshly-cooked rice; Kita immediately scrawls a keep-hot seal on the rice pot and hangs a pan over the iori to make miso. The fish can be grilled on skewers over the fire, but first she has to scrape out some of the ashes from the iori.
The smell of grilling fish rouses everybody in the building; Ikazushi stops by first and eats rice, miso and pickles while waiting for the fish to be ready, then leaves with the first one, presumably to wake whoever has the next shift and get some sleep. Izuna stumbles into the dining room in his nightwear a few minutes later and accepts a tray, kneeling beside the iori as he eats his fish straight off the skewer. Madara walks in dressed –good, he found the jug of warm water she left him– and accepts another tray with a murmur of thanks; Tajima-sama walks past the kitchen to the bathhouse, returns just as Izuna is finishing and takes his own meal back into the main room, where he will probably start going over the letters. Then Tsuyoshi, Inemi and Asami arrive and Kita assembles a tray for Homusubi, who is evidently on duty now, and carries it to him around the engawa so as not to disturb Tajima-sama.
Then she makes tea for Tajima-sama, which Madara carries into the main room since his father will want to turn this into a teaching experience for him. Her morning's work complete –Inemi and Asami can collect the plates and do the washing up since she cooked– Kita walks around the engawa to fetch her coat from her room, then cuts through Inemi and Asami's room to get to the genkan and put on her shoes. She wants to investigate the guest tea house she will no doubt be entertaining in.
She has never actually entertained in a chashitsu before –the Uchiha can't afford to have a building that only gets used a few times a year like that– but she has had them explained to her and modelled with genjutsu and has even been hosted in one the last time she was in the capital, so it should not be a problem. The tea house has been very recently cleaned, there is a box of charcoal in the mizuya ready for a host to heat water with, several labelled jars containing different kinds of ash, a range of portable shelves to display the tea utensils on, a portable brazier for summer ceremonies, a drawer with several little boxes containing new tea whisks and even a small collection of scrolls, vases and okimono to set out in the alcove before the ceremony.
Tajima-sama has of course brought a range of those himself –well he'd instructed Kita, Madara and Izuna to pack them– but it is considerate of the daimyo's staff to have a simple selection on hand.
Returning to the guest house, she is directed to the main room by Homusubi; evidently Tajima-sama has made a few decisions.
Except not quite. It turns out the daimyo has been even sneakier than anticipated; clearly this has been in the works for some time.
"There are multiple Momijigari events being held," Tajima-sama explains flatly. "Only one is being hosted by the daimyo, in the palace gardens in three days' time; the others are being arranged by various ministers and advisors and the daimyo's wife is hosting a ladies-only one. I, my sons and yourself have been personally invited to the daimyo's event and you have been invited by the daimyo's wife to hers a week later; the other events trail into November and our entire delegation has been specifically invited by the Minister of Sericulture to the event his household is arranging on the first of November. Generic invitations have been issued by other advisors and ministers." He pauses. "There are several more invitations, to tea ceremonies and incense parties, and a general flyer advertising the pocky festival taking place in the city four days before Shichi-go-san."
Kita considers this and the implications, both obvious and more subtle. "How many of the invitations are addressed to me personally?" She's not surprised he opened all of them regardless; they do need to be coordinated here.
"Five." That is rather significant. "Murasaki-sama's leaf-viewing party, two invitations to tea, an incense party and a private note from one of Murasaki-sama's ladies-in-waiting requesting your presence at a games evening two days before Shichi-go-san."
"The games evening will be more about court gossip than the games," Kita admits, "which makes it rather more important." She knows about those; the ladies-in-waiting arrange them when Murasaki-sama is engaged in private family matters and does not require their services. "It being just before the festival implies that the daimyo will be presenting one of his own sons; Murasaki-sama only gives her ladies an evening off when she is occupied with her immediate family."
Tajima-sama nods; then again, he'd probably guessed already that the daimyo has a personal stake, to expect the presence of so many noble shinobi clans in the capital at once. "Your tea invitations are from the Minister of Ceramics and Aburame Shijin; the incense party is being hosted by Hyūga Hisaaki's wife Hinagiku. You are permitted to take a guest to each, so Madara will accompany you."
Kita ducks her head obediently. "Yes, Tajima-sama." Madara is higher-ranking than she is, so by taking him along she will be relegated to the position of second or third guest at the tea ceremonies. Not that she minds; it will be much more comfortable to have him sitting between herself and a powerful stranger with unknown motives.
"You will no doubt receive more invitations; be gracious but make no promises." Tajima-sama pauses to scrutinise her face. "You will keep one day a week free to visit the merchant district and I will make arrangements for you to host tea in return once the other women have sourced appropriate dishes and ingredients. You may also host less formal events, provided they do not clash and you provide me with suitable notice."
'Suitable notice' was a week; enough time to arrange food and tea, write invitations and ensure your minor event would not clash with a more important one your guests might also be invited to. "Thank you, Tajima-sama."
He hands her invitations over; Kita resolves to use a sheet of hemp paper to write herself a timetable. "I will also be taking you along to the kaiseki the Akimichi are hosting today at noon; there will no doubt be tea and politics afterwards, so bring something to keep yourself occupied." Meaning her embroidery, but Kita is tempted to bring one of her 'made up' –meaning remembered– scroll games. By all accounts the Akimichi are a friendly bunch –for ninja at least– so a board game could be just the thing to break the ice.
Or else the flounders game; wait, no, she always wins at that one and that's really not politic.
Madara is a bit jealous; he's over here sitting with the adults –because of course Akimichi Chōtai brought the Heads of the Yamanaka and Nara clans and their heirs along with him as part of his entourage– but all the other clan heirs are Kita's age or slightly younger, so they're excused from the political trading of verbal jabs over tea. Lunch was admittedly completely glorious, but having to sit silently and try to decipher all the various levels this conversation is taking place on while in the background there's the clatter of dice, occasional delighted hissing and rueful groaning is really a bit much to ask.
Kita brought along the scroll for the 'prisoner in the tower' game and by the sound of it even the lethargic Nara Shikari has been drawn into things.
He chances a surreptitious glance sideways; Akimichi Mao has put down the fan she was hiding behind earlier and is vigorously shaking the dice with a happy smile on her round face, Yamakana Inosuke is biting his lip, Nara Shikari is glaring pensively at the paper tower with his hands cupped in front of him and Izuna has his back to Madara, but the way he's leaning towards Akimichi Chōkō implies they're managing to get along decently well.
Kita also has her back to him, showing off the brilliant blue kimono the clan's widows have made for her with its painted rose branches and a red obi printed with an arrangement of variously patterned fans on the drum knot, her posture all relaxed amusement. Clearly she's feeling vindicated over bringing the game; everybody is getting along and nobody is insulting anybody else, which is definitely an almost unprecedented success.
"Feeling a little left out, Madara-kun?"
Madara's eyes shoot back to the table in front of him; Yamanaka Inoshi is eyeing him knowingly.
"I've played before, Yamanaka-sama," he says quietly. "Kita-san created the game for my younger cousins to enjoy on winter evenings."
"It does look like a great deal of fun," Akimichi Chōtai agrees warmly, smiling down at him. "It's even brought my Mao-chan out of her shell."
Madara dares to glance over at the game again as Mao throws her dice and the other teenagers erupt in cheers and groans. "I think she's winning, Akimichi-sama." Mao has just moved a red tile, of which there are three piled up on the far left, and landed on a blue tile, sending it to the tower –Madara can tell by that shift in posture that Izuna is pouting– and liberating a green one –evidently Shikari's– which is placed at the base.
"I think I'd like a copy," Yamanaka Inoshi muses. "Make a change from shoji, hm?" He nudges Nara Shikamotsu.
"Troublesome," the Nara murmurs, eyeing his son; Shikari is evidently finding a game based as much on chance as strategy far more challenging than he initially expected. "What are the rules?"
Madara steels his spine at suddenly being the centre of all four clan heads' attention. "The game is for two to four players, but can also be played in teams. Each player or team has four counters which they have to move along a single winding path to the far side of the board, throwing a dice to dictate how many spaces they can move a single piece each turn. Upon throwing a six, a player may move their current piece six spaces, bring another piece onto the path or liberate a trapped piece. A piece is trapped by having another piece land on it, one of the player's own pieces included, and then placed in the tower. Only one piece can be trapped at a time, but a piece liberated by throwing a six can be placed directly back onto the path at a specific point, while a piece liberated simply by being replaced in the tower must travel from the tower to the main path. There are also two choke points, where a piece cannot be overtaken even by your other pieces. However, since a player must move a piece each turn, those chokepoints cannot be held indefinitely, especially since they are also the landing points for pieces liberated from the tower by throwing a six. There is also a point where the path splits, with each side being a different length. The winner is the first person to have all their counters arrive at the garden at the far end of the path." Has he forgotten anything… "Pieces may only move forwards along the path."
"As much about the luck of the die and the strategies of your fellow players as your own choices, hm?" The Yamanaka clan head muses. "It does sound like fun; I might actually win against you for once, Shikamotsu."
"A very interesting creation," the Nara Head agrees mildly, eyes shifting to Madara's father. "I wonder what inspired her."
The players clearly haven't noticed that they're the subject of their parents' conversation; they're far too busy racing for first place –which Izuna has just failed to secure, judging by the sag of his shoulders. Mao snatches up the die, shakes it vigorously and throws it; her excited squeak indicates that she holds the day.
There's a round of congratulations for the Akimichi heiress, then the die passes to Inosuke and the battle for second place begins in earnest.
"If I provide scrolls, would you be willing to dash off copies, Madara-kun?" the Akimichi Head asks, tone making it clear he's well aware this is a very frivolous use of the sharingan. "Just of the board and the rules; I'm sure we'll manage to source game pieces and a suitable tower."
Madara makes a show of thinking about it, glancing at his father and letting his eyes drift over to Kita again as she throws the die and secures second place for the blue team. "Might you be able to recommend me a good place to buy wagashi, Akimichi-sama?" he asks. Yes, he's implying it's for personal reasons –and it kind of is– but knowing where the Akimichi buy their wagashi will also locate a suitable vendor for the Uchiha to buy and order sweets to serve during the tea ceremonies Father intends to have Kita host.
The massive man chuckles. "I would be delighted to, Madara-kun."
In tea terms October is part of the summer, so Kita is not surprised that the Minister of Ceramics has decided to host a Yūzari-no-chaji, beginning just as the sun sets with candles illuminating the very well-appointed tea house adjacent to his residence and the surrounding garden. Ceramics have much to do with tea ceremony, so it is not so surprising that the Minister is a connoisseur.
Or at least, that he considers himself a connoisseur. This tea ceremony is markedly more… performative, than the one hosted by the Minister of Sericulture's assistant. Then there was the sense that the Minister could simply have offered a meal or the opportunity to wander in the palace gardens but had chosen instead to honour his guests with a chaji, while here there is a very definite aura of pomp and superiority poisoning the atmosphere.
All of the decorative features in the large chashitsu are new and gleaming, despite early November being the traditional time to repair and renovate a tea room, not September. The meal involves many foreign seasonal delicacies which are difficult to source and very expensive. The sake is from the daimyo's own supplier. The scroll was written mere weeks ago by a Fire Temple monk. The vase containing the chabana is a recent gift from a famous stoneware lineage. The sweets are exquisite namagashi, shaped like maple leaves and intricate chrysanthemum flowers. The chawan is a beautiful piece, ruddy orange with a lovely shape and from another well-known pottery family, but after the thick tea their host rinses it for almost two minutes, indicating that it has never been used before.
The picture being painted is very clear: the Minister of Ceramics is a man who craves the deference that comes with being at the height of fashion and is accustomed to twisting gifts into bribes, using his position to inconvenience those who do not honour him as he perceives to be his due. He wants something from her, so is using the chaji as an attempt to overawe her and make her feel inferior and indebted, so that when he makes his 'request' she does not think to ask for anything in return.
Tajima-sama was very wise to insist on Madara attending with her. He is a bulwark against this man's attention, occupying the first guest position and forcing the Minister to focus on him rather than on her. Her betrothed has also very clearly caught the flavour and the meaning behind the Minister's hosting decisions and is seething furiously under a thin façade of good manners and steely chakra control.
Kita hopes very much that he does not explode before they have made good their escape. The Minister of Ceramics is a man of considerable power, influence and intelligence, no matter how personally repellent; making an enemy of him would be shockingly unwise.
It is a challenge to keep that in mind when the thin tea is served along with intricately moulded and exotically coloured rakugan flavoured with expensive sugar. She knows pricing; you can feed a family of six for a week with the rice bought with what one box of these sweets costs. The brief, violent twitch in her betrothed's chakra says he knows that too.
The conversation over the thin tea is irregular, because it is supposed to be between the guests but the Minister of Ceramics has chosen to host this ceremony –presumably so he has no witnesses to his attempt to catch a young noblewoman alone and pressure her into offering him a lavish and inappropriate gift– and has not yet been able to address Kita directly even once. Madara's gentle seethe rises to a low boil as the Minister compliments her betrothed's obi –made from her peace silk, which he is wearing over a reddish brown kimono– and reveals that he knows it is her handiwork. Kita humbly thanks him for the compliment, adding that it means a great deal to her coming from a man with such great aesthetic sense.
It is very nice that polite Japanese requires such indirect speech. Kita does not personally think the Minister of Ceramics has any appreciation for the true spirit of wabi-sabi at all.
The Minister tries to imply that he is worthy of such a gift as well, which Madara firmly curtails –with remarkable politeness all things considered– to say that his betrothed's achievements honour and strengthen their clan. The implication being that unless the Minister makes them a very generous offer, he will not be getting anything from them. Also that Madara does not like how familiarly the other man is addressing her.
Kita shifts in the sudden tension and briefly wonders aloud whether the Minister is aware that certain members of the Uchiha clan are interested in how fire techniques could be adjusted for firing pottery. The Minister had not known. The Minister finds the idea fascinating. Madara settles back into his steady seethe and mentions through gritted teeth that fire techniques, with their ability to reach high temperatures very quickly, would be perfect for firing raku-style pottery. The Minister is even more interested and offers to write a letter of recommendation for them, as well as give them the names of certain well-regarded potters working in that style who have younger sons that would be interested in striking out on their own.
Madara decides this is a worthy offer –or possibly that he cannot feasibly hold his temper for very much longer– and thanks the Minister of Ceramics for allowing him to strengthen his clan. Kita agrees that she would be honoured to weave an obi of peace silk –the definition of which pleases the Minister very much– for their generous host.
The tea is finished, the formal handling of the tea utensils progresses without incident and they are bowed out of the teahouse to put on their coats and sandals and make their own way back to their guesthouse by lantern-light. Madara makes it all the way into a public section of the palace gardens before exploding.
"How dare he! That fat, grasping spider of a–!" He waves his free hand for a few vehement seconds then clenches it in a fist. "How dare he treat you so poorly! You are a daughter of a noble clan and deserve all respect! Not that, that–!" His eyes light up with sharingan as his chakra flares threateningly.
At least he's snarling through his teeth and keeping his voice down. Kita turns to face him, wrapping one hand over his and gently steering him off the path and under a nearby tree. "I had you with me," she reminds him soothingly. "You kept me safe."
Madara huffs, but his chakra gradually settles again. "Well, at least we're getting that letter in the morning," he grumbles sourly.
"Hm," Kita agrees lightly, "and I can't possibly provide an obi for the most honourable Minister before next autumn, seeing as all my caterpillars are in the egg now and will stay there until the spring."
Madara blinks, turning to look at her properly.
"Which he should have known already, seeing as its seasonality is a large part of why tenran adheres so closely to wabi-sabi."
Madara bursts out laughing, the sound almost manic. "You are perfect," he informs her when he gets control over his voice again, pulling her close and wrapping his free arm round her waist. His face is inches from hers, his eyes shining red and his gleeful smile illuminated by the soft glow from the lantern, and Kita wants to kiss him.
So she unfolds her fan, lifts it up so nobody walking along the path can see their faces and goes up on tiptoe to touch her lips against his.
His immediate and enthusiastic reciprocation is everything she's ever wanted. That he manages to put the lantern down on a convenient and aesthetic rock and wraps that arm around her shoulders, fingertips caressing the back of her neck inside her coat collar and sending shudders down her spine, makes her wish the moment would never end, but it's late and Tajima-sama is definitely waiting for them.
They'll have plenty of time to do this again later.
"So what is your opinion of the Minister of Ceramics, Kita?" Father asks after Madara has ranted himself out over the sheer disrespect shown to both the clan generally and to his betrothed as a person.
"The Minister of Ceramics," Kita says quietly and deliberately, "is a man who would break a new tea bowl so as to have it mended with gold."
The implications there are… deep; Madara's not entirely sure he's caught all of them just yet. His father clearly has though; he looks cautiously satisfied. "A messenger arrived with the letter of recommendation and associated introductions before your return," he informs them both, "and I will allow the misunderstanding over when exactly he will receive his 'gift' to stand, even though I know you are yet to weave anything from your spun silk this year, Kita."
Kita smiles; the expression reminds Madara of the time he accidentally came face to face with a tiger while running cross-country. "But that silk is already spoken for, Tajima-sama," she murmurs, eyes lidded and predatory. "One should always honour their existing commitments before picking up any new ones."
His father smiles, a brief, sharp twist of the lips that leaves Madara slightly stunned. When has he last seen that expression off the battlefield?
"Indeed," the Outguard Head agrees mildly, "and the delay is a suitable repayment for the insult he has done to the Uchiha. Now go to bed, both of you; there are certain things that need to be bought and ordered for the leaf viewing the day after tomorrow and you will both be heading into town to buy them in the morning."
"Yes, Tajima-sama." Kita goes; Madara hesitates.
"What is it, Madara?"
"Father, why are we being sent into the city tomorrow?" Madara asks warily. He was able to deduce from this morning's meeting with one of the daimyo's advisors that the Senju hadn't yet arrived at that point, and if they are still not here now then they will definitely be arriving tomorrow, probably in the morning. Inemi could go with one of the other men rather than him going with Kita.
"Because I want you and your temper to be absent from my first civilian encounter with Butsuma," his father tells him bluntly, "and I want a read on his eldest in your absence. He behaves differently when you're about and not being on a battlefield will give me a better chance to judge the differences."
"Yes Father." Madara bows, accepting the reminder that he needs to keep a better leash on his temper; he also hadn't realised Hashirama behaves differently when he's there. That is something he's going to have to think about. He leaves the room, still thinking about it. What does that say about his friend?
The sight of Kita brushing her loose hair in front of her mirror, wearing just her nagajuban, reminds him abruptly that less than an hour ago she kissed him for the first time and it was wonderful. So wonderful he wants to do it again now that their commitments for the evening are entirely over.
Seeing as there's no reason why not, he sits down next to her, watching her in the mirror as she watches him in turn, enjoying the heat building slowly in her eyes and chakra as she finishes combing her hair and neatly braids it for the night.
"Do my hair next?" He asks when she finishes. His hair is currently up in a topknot as a concession to court formality, which is nothing like he's used to and slightly uncomfortable in how it changes his sense of balance. Kita hums, turning towards him and neatly removing all the pins and ties to let his hair fall around his face, combing her fingers through it. She's so close he could lean forwards and kiss her.
Then she picks up her comb, scoots around behind him over the tatami and divides his hair into sections for braiding. Madara makes a face at her in the mirror; that was mean, getting his hopes –and his heartbeat– up like that.
"We both need to dress for bed," Kita points out mildly, smirking over his shoulder.
Kissing Kita by lantern-light when she's fully dressed is a delight, but now Madara's thinking about blowing out the lantern and kissing her in the dark, being able to feel her fluttering heartbeat through that single layer of nightwear as their legs tangle together under the blankets and she trembles in his arms.
Oh yes. He wants that.
"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" he asks, voice low and rough. The flutter in her chakra is deeply satisfying somehow.
"As many as you give me," she promises, reaching past him to set the comb on her dressing table before getting to her feet. Madara follows her up; she's tall for a woman, but still considerably shorter than he is. She's got the classic Uchiha chin, sharp and fine, and the delicate cheekbones like Izuna does. There are people at court who'd call her beautiful –he overheard Akimichi Mao say something wistful-sounding about her poise– but to Madara she looks like herself. Like Kita.
She looks warm and brilliant and cunning and kind and ever so slightly wicked, and he doesn't want to wait to kiss her. "Can't I kiss you now?" He asks, sliding fingertips along the underside of her jaw.
Her eye contact is steady despite the slight flush in her cheeks. "Now or later?"
Madara pouts deliberately, knowing he looks ridiculous but also that Kita finds his pouting amusing. "Later." If it's one or the other he wants later, because now would mean not getting to kiss her again after they're in bed and that would be torture.
He should wash his face and change quickly, so later arrives sooner.
Kita's holding the layered bento box with all their lunches in and laughing behind her fan as Izuna and Madara argue loudly but entirely unseriously about the best angle to lay out the blanket they're all going to be sitting on –parallel to the path or skewed, under this tree or the one next to it– while Tajima-sama talks to the daimyo. It's a lovely warm morning for late October and the rows of maples filling this particular section of the palace gardens are completely glorious, all in shades of red, orange and vibrant yellow. She wishes Inemi and Asami were allowed to be here too, but the daimyo's participation means this event is strictly by invitation only; the maple walk will be open to everybody with access to the palace from tomorrow though, so they will get to enjoy it later. Kita knows they're planning on bringing their own picnic tomorrow, possibly with some of the lower-ranking ladies-in-waiting floating around the complex.
Then suddenly she can't breathe.
"Madara!"
Her betrothed is slammed into the ground by a whirl of cream haori and dull green kimono, but Kita can't breathe. The air is thick with dense, cloying chakra, her throat is blocked–
Then fire cuts through, burning the obstruction away and wrapping around her protectively. Kita sags forwards into familiar arms, shuddering as adrenaline fades away and resting her forehead against her betrothed's shoulder. The air in her lungs tingles with sparking embers of his chakra, but that's so much better than suffocating that she can't bring herself to care that she can't sense anyone or anything past Madara anymore.
"Better?" He asks her, gently cradling the back of her head with one hand, the other supporting her lower back. He's wearing the pale golden green kimono she made for him under his open Uchiha coat, which he's wearing inside-out to show off the patchwork. They're all wearing their coats inside-out in fact; this kind of showy formal occasion rather calls for it. She really wishes Izuna had let her make him something less basic last winter, not that anybody else here knows the Uchiha coats are her handiwork.
Kita takes a deep, blessedly easy breath. "Did I drop our lunch?" She asks, opening her eyes and peering up at his face.
"Izuna caught it," Madara assures her, face tight with worry. "And your fan. Are you alright? I felt you panic; what happened?"
Just beyond Madara's neatly contained wildfire is the smothering mass that just almost killed her. It feels… concerned? "Is that your friend?" She asks quietly.
Madara hums, his entire focus still on her face.
"I think I choked on his chakra," Kita admits softly. "I'm used to fire, not… whatever that is. And he's not even slightly contained."
Her betrothed's face tightens. "No, he really isn't," he agrees, then neatly spins them around and lifts his head to glare over her shoulder. "Get a hold on your chakra, idiot; you're smothering people!"
"I didn't mean to! Is she okay?!" The pressure recedes, but doesn't actually go away. It's still there, looming overhead like a death threat.
Madara growls, his grip on her tightening. "That means pull your chakra under your skin, idiot! I'm amazed your brother hasn't murdered you yet, you must give him headaches just by proximity!"
"Madara you're so meeeeean!" Kita half-turns to see a tall man with almost waist-length brown hair wearing a dull green kimono and white haori, sagging forwards at the waist with his face in his hands, chakra-enhanced gloom swirling around him like a stormcloud. The overall effect is singularly insincere; he's certainly not paid any attention whatsoever to Madara's request.
The man next to him is identically dressed, short ivory hair sticking out all over the place like a dandelion puff and a singularly longsuffering expression in his dark grey eyes as he stands with his arms folded across his chest, a bento box hanging from one hand. "Stop making a scene, Anija."
Kita turns around fully in Madara's arms and lets her eyes slide sideways to where Izuna is indeed cradling both the bento box and her fan, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he glares murderously at the white-haired man. She reaches out and pokes him in the ribs. "Introduce your acquaintance." He's the lowest ranking man present on the Uchiha side, this is his responsibility.
Izuna glares at her, then huffs and remembers his manners. "Senju," he says flatly, making eye-contact with the white-haired man as he waves her fan in her direction, "allow me to present my brother's betrothed, Uchiha Kita. Kita-chan, meet Senju Tobirama, second son of Senju Butsuma."
Kita gently disentangles herself from Madara and bows appropriately. "Senju-san."
Tobirama bows equally appropriately. "Uchiha-san."
Hashirama straightens up, theatrics forgotten. "This is your betrothed, Madara?" He turns to beam at her, cheer beating forcefully against the protective chakra Madara still has her cocooned in. "It's lovely to meet you, Kita-chan!"
His manners are terrible and it has to be on purpose; he's his father's heir. Does he think nobody's going to call him on it? Kita reaches out and snags her fan off Izuna so she can hide the lower half of her face behind it. "Senju-sama."
He waves both hands vigorously. "No, no need to be so formal! Madara's my friend and you're going to marry him, so you can call me Hashirama!"
Kita considers her chances and decides a strategic concession would be tactically viable. "Hashirama-san. Seeing as addressing both of you as Senju-san would be confusing." A light insult, as it implies she holds his younger brother in higher esteem.
"I also would be honoured to be addressed by name, Uchiha-san," Tobirama adds with a quick yet impeccably respectful bow, glaring briefly at the back of his brother's head. Well at least one of them acknowledges the importance of civility.
"Likewise, Tobirama-san," Kita concedes, lowering her fan slightly. "Is it just the two of you here today?"
"Our father is speaking to the daimyo," Tobirama says, his chakra tightly contained and utterly bland –implying he is aware that Tajima-sama is doing likewise; well the daimyo's certainly playing a dangerous game today– "and instructed us to find a suitable place to sit."
"Are you sitting here?" Hashirama asks eagerly, gaze over Kita's head so presumably making eye-contact with Madara, who has been surprisingly quiet thus far. "We could be nearby!"
"That strikes me as impolitic, Hashirama-san," Kita interjects swiftly as her betrothed's chakra roils around her, "as I believe yours and Madara-san's fathers do not get along. The tension between them would ruin the experience for the rest of the guests around us, which would be most inconsiderate to both them and to our host."
Tobirama's single raised eyebrow is the only movement on his face in response to her significant yet polite understatement, but he also chimes in: "Mito-san has our blanket, Anija. She's setting it up on the far side of the avenue; we only came over here because you saw Madara-san." He's really surprisingly formal with his brother, isn't he?
"Awww," Hashirama whines. "I'm sure she'd move over here if we asked!"
Kita does not believe that in the slightest; her split-second of eye-contact with Senju Tobirama makes it clear that he doesn't either. "We will be visiting the palace for another three weeks, Hashirama-san," she points out as mildly as she can. "Surely there will be other opportunities to socialise?"
Izuna's strangled snarl is mostly drowned out by Hashirama's instant switch to sunny cheer. "Of course there will be! Thanks, Kita-chan! See you later Madara!" He hares off. The press of chakra finally recedes.
Tobirama sketches a bow. "Until next time, Madara-san, Izuna-san, Kita-san." He strides after his brother at a more sedate pace.
"Why did you?!" Izuna hisses, gesturing incoherently.
"It made him leave, didn't it?" Kita points out quietly. "Madara?" He's barely said a word. His chakra however has been fairly explicit on his discomfort.
She feels him rest his forehead against the side of her head. "He was very rude to you," her betrothed comments flatly.
Kita turns fully so she can look him in the face. "Yes, he was," she agrees, conscious of their audience. There are all kinds of people milling around within earshot, people who definitely gave that little clash with the Senju their full attention, if only so as to be able to run if things went badly. "Tobirama-san however was very proper and respectful."
"Kita-chan! They're our enemies!"
"We are all here as guests of the daimyo, Izuna-kun," Kita reminds him evenly. "Our good manners show our respect for our host, regardless of personal differences. We are not animals."
Izuna at least accepts that reasoning. "Fine. But I am not accepting any personal invitations from that lot and neither are you."
"Shall we sit down?" Kita suggests, changing the subject. "We're supposed to be admiring the leaves and I thought it might be nice to try a bit of poetry too." She's brought her writing box and some good washi as well as a good amount of hemp paper.
"Are you going to try some leaf-themed haiku?" Madara asks, a hint of amusement finally seeping into his tone.
Kita lowers her fan enough to smile at him properly. "I might."
He steps past her, tugging her forwards and over to the blanket, which is a bit rumpled. "I like your haiku."
"You always tell me they're terrible!" He does, but he's always happy when he says it so she invariably lets it slide and doesn't take it personally.
"They are," he informs her, eyes glinting. "Haiku are supposed to be tranquil, not funny. But I still like them."
Kita shoves him; he collapses face-down on the blanket in a heap.
"Is he dead?" Izuna asks, coming up behind her. "He'd better not be; I don't want to lead the clan."
Kita settles herself primly on the blanket next to her dramatic oaf of a betrothed and pokes him in the ribs. "Sit properly, you're making a scene."
Madara levers himself up into a sitting position and leans into her a little. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic," she tells him dryly. "Now let's admire the leaves a bit so we can say we did, then eat lunch once Tajima-sama gets here."
"Finally a plan I can get behind," Izuna agrees, settling at right angles to her and Madara and placing the bento in the middle of the blanket.
She's met the Senju brothers and nobody started a fight, which is probably a miracle she should be giving thanks for. Kita leans more solidly into her betrothed, tipping her head back to admire the fiery foliage. "Do you think I could press some leaves as a souvenir?"
"Would they keep their colour?" Izuna asks curiously.
"I don't know, but it would be fun to try." Kita pauses, then lowers her voice. "Are you going to admire the leaves with your sharingan?"
"That's kind of frivolous, Kita-chan," Izuna replies.
Kita fiddles with her fan. "You both see so many terrible things," she says softly, "and you can't forget any of them. I don't see why you wouldn't try to see beautiful and pleasant things too, to balance them out."
"It would make a change from nightmares," Madara agrees quietly, gently squeezing her free hand. "It's a good idea, Kita; we'll try it." He leans back further, eyes turning red as he stares at the leaves overhead. "Hey, there's a tiny owl in this tree."
"Where?" Kita leans back too, trying to spot the bird.
"There, see?" Madara points upwards.
"I see it," Izuna says, sharingan out. "It's a horned leaf-owl!"
It takes Kita a few more seconds; the owl is indeed tiny, almost invisible against the tree trunk far above them. "Found it."
"I wonder how many more birds we can spot," Izuna muses, eyes roving across the canopy overhead. "Hey, a squirrel; shouldn't they be hibernating?"
"Maybe they bed down a bit later here, seeing as it's warmer?" Kita suggests.
"Maybe. Ooh, that leaf's a funny shape."
"Where?"
"Up there; it's got an extra finger."
Kita settles in, embracing the moment and enjoying the increasing sense of restfulness and joy radiating from her two companions as they find more interesting things to point out to each-other. This is good. Maybe they can do this at home as well.
Tea with the Aburame Clan Head is nothing at all like tea with the minister had been. For one the tea ceremony is first thing in the morning, and for another it is taken outdoors under a willow tree. A nodate chakai is the least formal tea possible –there is no meal, no thick tea, no scroll to admire and minimal equipment– and it is hosted by an Aburame woman only slightly older than Kita.
Aburame Shijin has made an effort to ensure Madara's betrothed will be comfortable and to keep political pressures at an absolute minimum. There is just enough formality to provide structure, but not so much as to be stifling, and the bowls the thin tea is served in have little damselflies painted on them.
"I have invited you to tea because I am curious why the Uchiha clan have started a fashion for wild silk," the Aburame Clan Head says straightforwardly once the tea has been served. "It is quite out of character, and so worth investigating."
Madara glances at Kita, who answers comfortably: "It was not at all intentional, Aburame-sama: I am personally fond of wild silk and raise my own caterpillars, so when the Minister of Sericulture expressed admiration for an obi I had spun and woven myself I wished to share my joy with a fellow enthusiast. Then the daimyo's wife also took an interest, after which matters seems to have rather spiralled out of control." She ducked her head. "I spin almost as much silk as I reel, since I prefer to free my moths after they have laid their first load of eggs, and I feel that silk which does not require the death of a pupa holds an equal if different value to reeled silk."
Aburame Shijin nods, sipping his tea. "The Aburame have been approached by others inquiring after wild silk," he says after lowering his cup. "Would the Uchiha be amenable to our accepting this opportunity?"
Ah, so this is about the Aburame not wanting to accidentally instigate hostilities with the Uchiha over new ventures; Madara feels the last of his suspicion dissipate. Kita was approached because she is the clan's visible representative for Uchiha silk and was the one to start the business with the wild silk in the first place. "The Uchiha are not interested in pursuing tenran on a larger scale, Aburame-sama," he confirms.
"I am mostly producing it for my own enjoyment, Aburame-sama," Kita agrees self-deprecatingly. "If my enthusiasm has led to economic opportunities for your clan, that is an unexpected but not unhappy outcome. I wish you all the best in your endeavours."
"Then the Aburame clan will make the most of this opportunity," the Clan Head says calmly. "It promises to be quite interesting."
Madara suspects he means 'lucrative' as much as that getting paid for something other than pollinating orchards or running mercenary missions will be a significant change of pace; the Aburame affinity for insects means they will be able to farm wild caterpillars on a much larger scale than Kita can in her trays, so they will hold an effective monopoly on something that is in high demand among the richest people in the country. Possibly in neighbouring countries as well once news gets around.
Even if he had objected, Madara doubts that the Aburame would have let the opportunity pass; they'd simply have taken steps to prepare for retaliation and sabotage. The truth is that the Uchiha aren't equipped to compete with the Aburame in anything that involves insects; the only reason their clan hasn't already monopolised the silk market is that domesticated silkworms are effectively helpless and are killed by the thousand in the process of reeling the thread. The Aburame identify far too closely with insects to be party to such wholesale slaughter, but tenran –which involves far more mobile caterpillars and has the moths survive longer after breeding– is evidently more palatable to them.
Madara sips his tea. Kita is helping him bring peace to other shinobi clans by providing opportunities for those clans to choose peace for themselves. And it's working.
After the tea –and Shijin's comment that the Aburame would be happy to engage in correspondence with the Uchiha to ensure Kita's caterpillars are suitably comfortable– Madara leads Kita on a slow circuit of the section of the palace gardens nearest the Aburame's guesthouse; these are presumably winter gardens, being in the northeast corner of the palace enclosure and featuring a section filled with row after row of plum trees curled around a small pavillion. Presumably the daimyo hosts parties to view the plum blossom in the winter as well as the maple leaves in the autumn.
As the trees aren't doing anything in particular at this time of year, it's almost completely deserted; Madara notices a gardener up a ladder at the far end of the arching walk, trimming away dead wood, but that's all. It means there's nobody to see him wrap his arms around his betrothed and kiss her under the spreading branches, nobody to stare or disapprove as he cups the back of her neck and she digs her fingers into his hair.
Nobody to see Kita untie the front of his coat, tug his kimono collar wider and suck a scarlet mark on the side of his neck while he shudders at the sensations her attentions elicit and plays with the fine curls at her nape, enjoying how the stiff collar of her slip gives him an unobstructed view down her back inside her clothing, all the way to where the obi wraps around her waist.
There's nobody to see him tug her own collar loose and return the favour afterwards, kissing and nibbling her upper back and leaving a round bruise just to one side of her spine where he will be able to see it later. They both have to take the time to straighten their clothes afterwards, but it's well worth it. Even if they are almost late getting back to the guesthouse; Father is waiting for them when they get in, but that's on time, not late.
The way his father raises an amused eyebrow says he knows exactly what they've been doing, but Madara refuses to be embarrassed; they're betrothed. They're supposed to be spending time together and getting along.
The only other thing Madara has that's entirely his are his hawks, and Kita is so much more interesting and fun than they are. The betrothal may have been Father's idea, but what he and Kita have made of it is entirely their own and he isn't going to compromise it for anybody.