Chapter 15 | The Bloodiest Battlefield
"Fall back!"
Madara swept through the horde of scrambling enemies with his short blade, his crimson eyes predicting their counterattacks in time to thwart them and memorizing the symbols utilized in their volatile techniques. Blood spurt in arcs—hard against the soft contrast of a pale blue sky and the green of towering trees in the violence he left in the wake of his sharp maneuvering of the battlefield. He blurred through enemy lines with expert speed and precision.
"It's Uchiha Madara!"
A cacophonous echo of the words spread beyond the site of the skirmish, the warning growing louder in the mouths of different Ishiki shinobi and kunoichi—emerging from various positions, hidden within the poisoned earth, blended in with the shrubbery and trees struggling to survive, or out in the open, manning this blockade against him.
This hadn't been the first scouting mission he had taken with Mahiro to end disastrously. He had been on various excursions across the dying island in search of answers and information that he had yet to receive from the tightlipped Ishiki clansmen he had succeeded in interrogating to death. Mahiro had been losing scouting teams left and right, which had led Madara to believe that the Ishiki had been hiding in an advantageous place. He had reason to believe their hidden camp was located on the other side of the island in the southern castle where Madara had stolen away in the middle of the night long ago to kill Motou Jikai. Mahiro had disagreed, having claimed the ruins as his clan's own lair, thought had failed to offer any sort of security to Madara on that matter.
If there wasn't a high concentration of Ishiki shinobi in the southern castle's ruins, Madara didn't think the shinobi would be willing to risk their lives to the extent of creating a human wall to stop him. He owed it to his dead scouting team to make it through to the other side. He wouldn't forgive himself their deaths if he didn't.
His challenges were limited. There were only two people in existence capable of fighting against him and surviving and his brother was participating in his own battlefield carving out the Uchiha name in the blood of their enemies. The other he had not seen or spoken to since the end of the Artifact War.
"Fall back!"
Madara chased the warning calls and silenced them, replacing each cautionary shout with a pained grievance, but as he sped through the barren path, he sensed a sudden surge of chakra beneath his feet milliseconds before it detonated. It sent him flying backward into the black earth. He twisted around midair and landed smoothly several feet away as a sudden rain of pebbles and poison sludge struck the outer defenses of his Susanoo—the dark experimentation with the blackest arts of the Kuronuma clan burned holes through his shield, but he had remained, for the most part, unscathed.
His sword had broken apart and his upper torso had been sacrificed partly (as he hadn't been quick enough to shield himself from the blast). His shirt was in tatters, exposing sensitive burnt flesh to a passing breeze. Pain bloomed across the reddened skin. He tasted blood in his mouth and spat it out where it sizzled upon hitting the surface of the ground. Watching the smoke rise from the ground reminded him why he hated the Sun Country and why he was grateful that the Uchiha clan could call the Kuronuma clan their allies.
Madara steeled, sharing a secret grin with himself. He appreciated that the Ishiki clan did not intend to play games with him. If that detonation was any indication of what was to come, he knew that they had prepared well for his arrival and that he had been drawn to the poison arena to their minefield purposefully.
The venomous earth with its blend of strange chakra would keep his eyes from spotting their traps. His only choice, if he planned to move forward, was to thread the waters carefully. It'd become a game of chance.
He acknowledged then that they had prevailed over him if only for just that day, but was certain that he had drawn closer to their headquarters. In a way, he had perceived it as a victory for himself.
Madara returned to the northern castle that evening with little information learned. He took a detour to seek a medic and was fortunate enough to run into Yuzuru, who patched him up, relieving him of that tiresome excursion's failures.
"At the very least," said Mahiro (detaining him from seeking his wife as Mao aligned his broken ulna to heal), pausing, and clenched his jaw after a quick surge of pain transformed his calm countenance for a fleeting moment, "we know that they fear you."
He frowned, though complimented, and replied, "What good is fear? Rikuto is likely dead by now."
Mahiro's demeanor appeared to have changed with the swiftness of a bolt of lightning. His narrow eyebrows were drawn together and the small creases around his mouth deepened with his scowl.
"It is a little too hopeful to believe that someone that has been missing for as long as Rikuto could be alive," Madara continued, each word sounded colder aloud than it had in his mind, but he felt frustrated. "We should consider what that means in terms of consequences and devise ways to counteract instead of continuing to waste our time and people in failed scouting missions."
"Would you so easily relinquish hope if it was your brother in Rikuto's position?" asked Mahiro through gritted teeth. The question was almost accusatory. It felt like he made the comment specifically to point out his vulnerability. "What if it had been Mio?"
Two weaknesses.
Madara barely heard the soft pad of her footsteps as she turned into the room to join them, but recognized Mio's presence when she spoke, interrupting him. "We should fight fair," she said, halting at his side, "even in verbal spats."
Not far behind her was Keigo.
"Do you not think my comparison fair, Shugosha-sama?" asked Mahiro.
"I was referring to the both of you," said Mio. It was obvious to Madara that his wife was struggling to stand upright and speak as clearly. "Don't act so offended. Whether Rikuto is alive or not is something that we can't confirm unless we find an Ishiki shinobi with a willingness to speak. Until then, it won't do us any good if there are disagreements between our ranks."
"Mio-sama!" Sena entered the room abruptly and the terse atmosphere ebbed. Everyone recalled a pending chore or duty and returned to it, moving out of the room if that was where it took them. Sena made a beeline to Mio as a few medical specialists accompanied Yuzuru out, her auburn hair stuck close to her sweaty face. "You were told specifically to stay in bed, Mio-sama. Keigo-san, please help—"
"I'll return her," said Madara.
Sena only stared as he and Mio walked past them. Keigo bowed deeply as they passed, welcoming him back.
Mio's health continued to deteriorate and it concerned him to know (more each day) that Takuto was not present to remedy her if she hit the point where other medical specialists would not be able to help. He knew her condition better than anyone else did. She had the support of all the medical specialists that were left with them, including Yayoi who had started to learn under Takuto and understood his methods. However, Takuto was uniquely specialized in her condition and Madara trusted him to save her (if the need came).
Madara slid the door shut behind him as Mio went to sift through their belongings. He saw her pulling out the neatly folded pants from out of her bag.
Their guest room smelled of a strong mixture of herbs blended with Mio's natural scent and Yayoi's perfume. The futons were lain out across the tatami with the blankets left bunched up at the foot of them. He spotted a number of small trinkets that he knew belonged to Yayoi and one of Keigo's sword stashed underneath the table toppled with scrolls, a marked map of the Sun Country, and a tray holding a kettle and a cup of tea. He reached for the half-empty cup and brought it up to his lips to drink.
The liquid was cold, but was as good to him as if it hadn't been. He tasted ginger among a medley of other odorous plants.
"I could have asked someone to bring water if you were thirsty," said Mio, surprising him. She held a folded top clasped in both hands that she offered him.
"Is this ginger?" he asked, setting the cup back where he found it to take the kimono she handed him. He removed his torn shirt and slid into the fresh top, he tied the narrow sash low as she watched in silence.
"Yes. The kitchen staff suggested it," she said, "because they noticed I was sick often."
"Is it helping?"
It wasn't. She trembled and every few minutes he heard her teeth clatter. She was sweating; her pale skin flushed from a fever, and her breathing was strained. It appeared to him that she had been in bed, but after sensing his arrival, she got out to meet him.
"I know you're frustrated, but you shouldn't pick fights with Mahiro," she said, calmly avoiding the question.
"Don't act like you care about his comfort."
"I only said it because I'm thinking of you, not him."
Madara stepped away from her, moving to the window. She followed him, reaching to place her hand on his forearm. The gesture was comforting, but it worried him to feel her hand shaking on his skin—struggling to stay firm.
"You should be resting," he told her, sounding more distant than intended. "I told you that I would come to you, that it was unnecessary for you to meet me."
"I wanted to be certain that you were safe."
"I am."
Everyone else on his scouting team had been slaughtered.
"...And that you were okay," she added. "I understand we sustained significant losses since we—"
"I am."
Mio stepped closer to his back, releasing his arm, and leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. She wasn't in any condition to burden herself with his problems. He didn't want to do her more worse than good. They had finally stopped arguing. His jealousy had been reined in by the fact that she was spending more time outside of the castle bringing aid to the common folk than dealing with Eishirou's unnecessary attention, but she was sick again. Her illness could easily be used as an excuse to seek her out. Madara could do nothing to prevent him from seeing her if he was not around and it frustrated him to realize that thoughts of a similar vein had disrupted his concentration during his travails.
If he were honest, there was more bothering him than Eishirou's determination to tempt Mio into an affair. He had done everything in his power to be the person that she needed. His grandmother had lectured him time and again during Mio's absence that he had to learn patience with her for the nightmare that she had experienced in Nishiki's castle as Gouki's wife. He had been careful of her. He had never pushed her farther than she'd allow. He had been patient…and yet his touch had provoked her mind to draw forth one of her terrors. The frightened way she had looked up at him had cut deeper than any knife.
He understood as well as those around him had explained that the possibility that she'd suffer a lapse with him was something that he'd have to prepare for. He had been ready when they married. If it ever happened, he had thought then, that he'd only give her space. It wouldn't affect him like the reality had. He hadn't stopped wondering what it had been about him that reminded her of that monster. Had she seen a monster in him? Had that been it?
The questions had doubled and tripled and quadrupled into millions in his head.
They were on better terms, but that didn't stop the tiny gap closing between them from rupturing once more. In the quieter settings, in this damned castle where he had realized he had been in love with her, the distance between them was obvious.
"I know that you're still irritated with me," said Mio, pressing her hands against his back as she closed the gap between their bodies.
"I'm not," he lied.
"I know when you're lying to me."
Madara faced her and shook his head in response. "I'm not."
"I'm frustrated too," she snapped. Raising her voice seemed to have taken all of her energy. "I'm frustrated that there's always something getting between us! It's like we're constantly struggling to be happy! And I just—I just can't stand it! I don't know what to do! What's wrong with me?"
Their cycle of dispute was repetitive. She found fault in herself and he placed the blame entirely on himself. He couldn't blame her for anything. He wouldn't. If anyone was lacking, it was he, never her. She wasn't perfect. She had her faults, but they had nothing to do with this. The wall standing between them and causing the strain was of his making. His pettiness and insecurity were obstructing the mending that they had started earlier.
Slow, but surely, he distanced himself. More and more, he feared that even the slightest touch could send her spiraling into memories of Gouki, which have haunted her all of her life. He was careful about reaching out to her. He didn't want to see her having another attack, struggling for breath and crying in desperation of it. He couldn't stay calm.
He fought hard to stay composed now.
"There's nothing wrong with you," he assured.
"Then why doesn't this work?" she demanded, gesturing from him to her with her forefinger.
"We work," he said, moving to the door. "You shouldn't overwork yourself with such trivial thoughts."
Mio grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back into place, astonishing that she even had the strength to accomplish the move in her debilitating condition. In the soft, whimpering voice of a person speaking to oneself, she asked, "Should we not have married?"
Madara wondered if it hadn't been such an exhausting emotional journey to fall in love with her—his denial of her and Izuna's love for her—that his marriage to her had been a joyous moment, like the end of a long journey that concluded in happiness, that he would've snapped the way he did. He jumped over his brother's affection and his clan's approval to get what he wanted in his marriage to Mio. She was the woman he had chosen to stand at his side, as his equal. He wanted to have children with her—all of them daughters, and somewhere along the way, they would have that son destined to inherit her title and he'd promise to protect them all from the harm she feared would come of having a family. He could have only imagined his life two ways: with her as his wife or with her as Izuna's wife and him denying his affection for her eternally.
"Is it him?" he spat, bile rising to his throat. He watched her eyes widen and her lips part, but her expression changed as soon as her short eyebrows drew close. He heard her misunderstand before she spoke it and clarified it. "Do I remind you of him?"
"Him?"
His cursed name burned on his tongue as he spoke it, "Mikazuki Gouki."
Mio blanched.
"You saw him when you were with me. You had an attack," he continued. "Did I do something that reminds you of him?"
She took his face in her trembling hands and brought him close, her expression fierce and though querulous as her voice was, it was firm when she spoke. "You are not him. You are nothing like him. He was a monster."
The tension in his shoulders unwound, but the burdened weighed heavily on them. Again, he repeated the words, "Do I remind you of him?"
"No, you don't," she said firmly, her black eyes bore into his, expressing more emotion than he could decipher. They were glassy with tears. "This place…Eishirou…they remind me of him."
He relaxed, but his pulse was quick and he felt the question was not a satisfactory one. His doubt appeared to be much stronger than her word.
"He killed Kikumi to marry me," she reminded. "He killed my family and when he killed my grandfather he called them a set. He chased me all of my life to possess me, and when he had me it was nothing short of a nightmare. He was a monstrous being that filled me with fear—you are not him. Don't ever think that youcould ever remind me of him." Her tone faltered as the tears began to fall from her face and her words moved him. "I love you."
Madara took her hands in his and held them tight. Separating himself from thoughts of that monster made him see that she needed support and that doubting her was keeping her from having it.
"You've been so patient with me," she continued, voice trembling, "and I've been so grateful, but I regret that I cannot be yours every day of my life. You know that I want nothing more. I just want to be yours."
"I'm sorry," he said. "Don't force yourself to accommodate me. I've just—I'm sorry. I trust you, I do, I was…I don't…" He couldn't string the right words together as he stared at her hoping that she understood without him needing to struggle any longer. Her watering eyes were on his as she read him. He knew she understood, but he spoke again. "It's me…I don't deserve you—"
"You are enough," she interjected. "Even if I could've fought it or if the Fate Sphere said differently, it is you that I chose to love and I will love you until the end of the world." She slipped into his arms crying and clung to him as she shuddered with emotion. "I promise you."
Mio cried until exhaustion. She fell asleep wrapped up in his arms. He lost feeling to them from not having moved them the entire time, but hadn't cared enough about that because she had been a comfort to him. As he watched her sleeping soundly with her cheek pressed against his chest and her mouth opened slightly, the sound of her breathing reaching his ears, he brushed a few strands away from her forehead to kiss her.
"I make the same vow to you," he whispered. He would love her until the end of the world and beyond it.
Their marriage wasn't ill fitting for them. There wasn't any reason holding them back from committing to it and it even occurred much later than expected in their war-torn world. He would've married her at eighteen if she had expressed any desire, but she had gone on a healing trip and he had gone onto assume all clan responsibility as the new leader.
She smiled pleasantly in her sleep and as he lay her down upon their futon, he heard his name fall from her lips.
In the middle of the night as sleep evaded him, Madara rubbed his thumb up and down the palm of Mio's hand as she slept. He stared at her face lit by the strain of moonlight filtering into the room, his mind filled with the thoughts that had distanced him from her.
He concluded that there were many things that they needed to address and understood their current location and circumstances were not a good place to discuss them. He vowed to remain professional. He knew how to behave and his past behavior was shameful, but it was easily remedied.
Madara would stop searching for fault in him and their relationship to justify his inability to manage the savage emotions rooted in him.
The following morning, he rose with the sun, leaving his wife to sleep in the warmth he left behind. As he completed his daily routine and dressed himself, preparing for the next scouting mission—the one he intended to succeed—he hear Mio stir, her soft voice filling the room as she stretched her arms high over her head. She had villages to visit, of the last remaining survivors in the dying island to whom she provided provisions, as many had been dying of starvation. It hadn't surprised him to see her awake. He expected her to wake with him, but when he had looked at her, he hadn't been able to snatch away her peaceful sleep, understanding her health was unstable.
She started to ready herself for her outing as he finished and prepared to leave. Conversation between them was limited as was their time, but before going, he approached her and asked permission to kiss her.
With a smile brightening her face and her arms winding around his neck, she nodded. He took her lips and kissed her with the intensity of a first and the emotion of a last.
Outside, he ran into Keigo on his way to report in with her and he urged him to be mindful of her condition, as he appeared to be one of the few that knew all about it. Keigo saluted him with squared shoulders and a serious countenance, stating in a loud and clear voice, "Yes, Madara-sama!"
Yayoi waited by the entrance of the door, surprisingly underdressed and without a stitch of finery on her person. She eyed him in a suspicious manner as he approached. He stopped before her, anticipating that her silence was the precursor to a question.
It took her another moment before she spoke, clearly, "You wouldn't do anything that would deliberately hurt Mio, would you?"
Madara felt his eyes narrow in disbelief. The question baffled him. Hurt her? "What?"
"You wouldn't intentionally hurt her, right?" she rephrased, but her intention was not made clearer.
"Did she ask you to do this? Whatever she thinks she knows, she doesn't—forget it, I'll tell her myself." Madara started to walk down the corridor, certain he could catch up to Mio and demand as to why she was making Yayoi ask him such preposterous questions. Yayoi latched onto his arm, stopping him. He jerked around. "What is it?"
"She didn't put me up to anything," assured Yayoi.
Madara glared at her.
"I was curious."
He relaxed, the tension in his shoulders dropping. "I couldn't."
"What?"
"Your question," he said, breathing out. "I couldn't hurt her. I won't. I don't want her to suffer because of something that I am responsible for."
Yayoi neared him, serious. "You are absolutely sure?"
"What reason do I have to hurt her?" he demanded. "She's my wife. I want her to be happy."
"I don't know," said Yayoi, avoiding his gaze. "It was just a thought."
"Did you see something in the Fate Sphere?"
Yayoi bristled. "No! Why would you say that?" she snapped, turning away in her offense. "That's ridiculous! You think I spy on people with my artifact? That is very insensitive of you!"
She stormed off before he could say anything else. He sighed.
Madara met with Mahiro outside the castle tower. Ikki stood beside him, appearing nervous and unwilling to attend, but he played his part of a coarse lout particularly well that it managed to disguise his fear and anxiety. He listened to no one, but Mahiro. He was quick in his responses to Mahiro, which Madara found odd, but everyone else received an abrasive reply to even the slightest hint of a comment.
That morning, they departed the castle five minutes later than usual. Madara took charge of the scouting mission despite Ikki's protests to his leadership (though, they were quieted swiftly by Mahiro) and he plotted out a plan on a fleshed out map of the Sun Country and its hazard zones that would take them to the southern castle where he expected to face off with the Ishiki clan's leaders.
Madara would end the Ishiki clan's monopoly of the island today. He would confirm whether Rikuto was dead or alive. He could take Mio from the island at last.
xl: Dropping in to drop off these two chapters.
All of this build up is finally going to be worth it soon.
Thank you for reading. Thank you to everyone kind enough to comment (you know who you are - I would list you but I'm procrastinating on an essay and a 45 minute play I should be writing)!
I'm going to write out the rest of the chapters to this arc so that I can provide you with weekly updates because it won't do to just leave things hanging at any point. You just need to read it through to the end.
Please enjoy the next chapter...and Takuto's POV.
