Bad news: Madara could not bring himself to collect even an ounce of chakra. When he just got to this place, he was able to, but with time lesser and lesser, until finally, he could no longer do it at all.

There was nothing he could do at the moment but continue washing the pile of dirty dishes before him.

For some reason, the girl had just stopped fearing him. He still waved around with kunai every once in a while, but she would just shrug him off as if he was an annoying child.

If only he could collect just a little bit of chakra to at least activate the Sharingan, he could scare her, have her acknowledge his greatness and out of fear let him stay in peace.

Nope. Not happening, no matter how much he strained his body, it was as if he has never even been a shinobi.

Giving up, he let a long sigh come out of his mouth and went on with doing the dishes.

Well, at least that stupid girl will have her house chores done right for once, he was very good at those – not to brag, but he was very good at everything.

Ever since he was a child, having strict parents, he was taught to clean, cook, even to sew, for no one knows what kinds of situations to expect out on the battlefield. He certainly didn't expect to become a cleaning maid in some weird world, so all that knowledge won't go to waste, after all.

However, it's been seven days already that he has been in this place and panic has started to creep into his thoughts. He needed to find a way to go back home, yet he had no idea where to even start.

"I'm home!" He heard Shizu sing from the door.

Making a fine roll with his eyes, he thought about how annoying her voice was. While she spoke normally it was fine, but when she got excited or – save us – made an attempt to sing, he seriously considered pulling his hair out.

She must have been the strangest person he's ever seen.

Every morning, she would shamelessly prance around in her undergarments, and that made him extremely uncomfortable. For the first day or two, he thought that she just forgot about him being there, but no. She still did that after seven days.

Every day, she would wear tight, pretty clothes and put on a lot of make-up, then go somewhere. And she would come back home at approximately same time each day.

When he asked, she said she's going to work, and that only confused him further. Some women of his clan also worked, even though most were housewives, but for work one's supposed to wear something comfortable that will let them be productive.

So, he came to conclusion that she was a prostitute. That was the only logical explanation, right? She did mention something called 'bank', but perhaps that was what they called brothels here?

Who cares, anyway?

"I bought you something!" Shizu exclaimed, lifting a paper bag, so Madara could see it.

"What is that?" He asked, confusion displayed on his face, but it disappeared in a moment as the bag was thrown into his direction and he had to catch it.

"Hurry, try it on."

The paper bags contained two pairs of pants and two tops, along with smaller pieces of clothes that he recognized to be undergarments for men.

"Why? ..." He looked at Shizu questionably, for he had clearly missed the point where they started exchanging presents.

"You're pitiful while washing and drying those rags of yours every day. Also, we need to find your home, and if I'll be seen with you, you will not look like a caveman."

One pair of pants was very comfortable and Madara liked it a lot – wearing it to battle would be convenient. On the other side, the other pair was horrible. It was very tight, the fabric was rough and it made his legs look like those of a woman.

Both tops were fine, one was simple and made of cotton and another one was of some thin material, with buttons and it went all the way up to his neck.

"Are you done?" He heard Shizu call from the other room.

He went out, standing at the door frame, feeling exposed as her eyes kept scanning him up and down.

"You actually look good."

Was that supposed to be a compliment? – Madara's inner voice rambled, but he made no effort to speak.

"Okay, sit down." She said, taking a seat herself and patting the one he was supposed to take.

"We have been getting along surprisingly well, but it's really about time for you to leave. Is there someone – anybody – we can contact who would know where your home is? Family, friend, enemy – anyone!"

The crease between Madara's eyebrows deepened – let's be real, it's always there.

During these seven days, they had had this conversation at least three times a day. It would go on until they started to yell at each other.

It was mission impossible to explain to her that he had no one in this place – he was from a different side of the world, of universe, probably even from a different dimension. You never know with Sharingan.

"I already told you. Nobody."

"Are you sure about that? How—That just can't be possible! You have nobody familiar around here, you have no ID, you have no phone, you have no job—"

"I have a job, I'm shinobi."

Shizu gave him a pitying stare. "I mean a job you didn't make up. How can a person have no personal document? You have absolutely no proof that you actually exist!"

"That is what I'm telling you the entire time! I do not exist, not here!"

"Then why are you in front of me!?"

"Because I misused my Sharingan!"

"Eye prowess again? You are an otaku freak! You probably had some accident on a cosplay party or something and got amnesia, but that craziness stayed! Who knows if Madara Uchiha even is your name!?"

As he was about to talk back again, Madara felt that the adrenaline from argument had awoken something inside of him. As if power had started to surge through his body again.

He tried – and this time he did it – he activated the Sharingan.

"Ever heard of eye-contacts?" Shizu said, clearly not amused. However, Madara had more in the store.

Making a hand sign for Fireball Jutsu, he suppressed his chakra so it wouldn't grow too large. He directed it to the paper bag that laid on the floor, and the thing flared up and was swallowed by flames within few seconds.

With eyes still bloody red, he turned to look at Shizu. "Do you believe me yet, or do I have to burn you this time around?"

She did not answer, but her expression and fearful gaze told him everything he needed to know. He let the Sharingan get deactivated.

"I don't want to harm you, but if you again call me crazy or otaku, whatever that meant, I am going to make you regret that you ever opened you mouth in my presence."

Then, confusion overcame all of the other potential expressions he may have had displayed on his face. "Is your nose bleeding?" He asked the obvious, which he usually did not have the habit to do.

The girl sniffed, wiping the tiny trail of blood off. "Yeah, sorry. It's only that – just now you were so sexy."

Sexy!?

"Whatever." Madara sighed, obviously devastated because of the fact that instead of powerful and scary, she found him sexy.

"I believe you now. I mean, I guess I do. Nobody I know here can make fire come out of their mouth."

This lifted his spirit slightly. At least she wouldn't bother him with all those strange questions anymore. And now that she's seen his power he would not have to do any more house chores.

Would he?