A/N: So this story is going to be quite sad at the start, of course is, this is Natsume we are talking about! But the idea is that it will become better as Natsume accepts his fate. Expect a lot of Natsume and Madara time!

WE TOO, WILL BE STORIES IN THE END

Madara and Natsume sat opposite each other on the floor of Natsume's room. They were both quietly looking at each other. Madara had not yet changed back into his Maneki-neko form: it would seem too normal. This was serious and both of them knew it. It had become somewhat of a rule, that on the occasion when something happened which made Natsume particularly vulnerable, Madara would stay in his original form. His original form had better senses, better reflexes, so naturally he was better equipped to protect Natsume.

Natsume himself never commented on Madara's change of form: he doted on both equally. He found the cat form's...well, cat-like antics amusing, and even humoured his food-related desires. And though he hid it well, he seemed as awed by Madara's original form as anyone else. He would stroke both fur coats indiscriminately, and though Madara would be loath to admit it, would punch both forms indiscriminately too. Having said that, Natsume did seem to take particular pleasure in sinking into the white beast's fur as they flew over cities and forests, a fact that Madara secretly took great pride in.

But the flight home that day provided little comfort, and though the pair sat silently, their minds were running, overwhelmed and exhausted. When the silence had stretched too long Madara finally spoke.

'Did you swallow any of it?'

There was a long pause before Natsume finally replied.

'I don't know.'

The fact was that both of them knew that it had happened - the blood had alredy been swallowed - the uncertainty was just an attempt to recover hope.

Madara sighed. This was going to go nowhere with the state the pair of them were in right now: shaken and rightfully exhausted from real terror.

'Go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.' His words were dismissive as usual, but the sentiment was anything but that.

Natsume just nodded and proceeded to lay out his futon, Madara curling around the room so that there was space for Natsume to sleep in the centre. The room was perhaps too small for a great beast such as Madara, but one always found that such things hardly mattered in this type of situation. And so, the pair drifted off to a much needed sleep, Natsume's arm extending over to rest on soft white fur, seeking the comfort which was readily given.

It was early in the morning when Madara woke up: it would be daybreak in less than an hour. But just as he decided that he would go back to sleep again for a while, Natsume spoke:

'Sensei, are you awake?'

'Aa.'

Madara looked down to see the boy still lying down, his hands by his side. He must have been awake for a long time, for his eyes didn't hold a trace of sleepiness, nor panic, Madara noted. Instead he stared contemplatively at the ceiling.

'Ne, Sensei, what is going to happen to me? What will the mermaid's blood do to me?'

Madara huffed out, stretching out his body best he could in the room. Cutting right to the chase, huh.

'You have to tell me, Sensei. Will I really become immortal? Will I...'

Madara's eyes tightened in sympathy. The poor boy, to have just found a loving family, kind friends, people who understood him, and people who were like him. To have just found a life worth living which was so precious to him, for this to happen. Fate sometimes had the worst sense of humour. But Natsume didn't need pity right now.

'Right, look here Natsume. Before you go fantasising too much, there is no such thing as immortality. What lives dies. That's the natural order of things. You will die just like me and every other living thing. What a mermaid's blood grants is not immortality, but prolonged life. A life as long as the most powerful yokai. It means that you will become strong. Strong enough that sickness and curse will not befall you, strong enough that yokai will recognise you wherever you go. Anyone who tries to kill you, well, I'll tell you now, they will give up before they fail. The lifetime of a yokai is determined by how strong they are. The same will apply to you.'

'A prolonged life. Just how long is that, Sensei?'

'The length of a human life does not compare.'

Natsume sighed, placing an arm over his eyes. 'I though so. I thought so.'