Madara x Rachelle

Chapter: Three

"I thought he can talk." Why is he using hand signs? Rachelle was wondering what was really wrong with the man that had appeared from thin air just minutes ago.

"Fire style: Fireball Justu"

"I personally think his handsome, but his…" She snapped out of her thoughts in time to see a huge fire coming out of the man's mouth and coming in her direction. Rachelle couldn't believe her eyes, well figuring out what was happening would have to wait, right now: she'd to run for dear her life.

She ran crying, Why the hell was this guy trying to kill her? She ran as fast as she could but the fire was too fast for her. "Holy Shit, I'm going to die here?" Luckily for her, there was a house not to far from where she'd been, hopefully the fire won't be able to reach it. Rachelle ran behind the house, sat down-bringing her knees to her chest and placed her head on her knees. She slowed her sobbing so she wouldn't be heard.

"You really are an idiot."

He stood over her, glaring down at her. Rachelle couldn't seem to stop whimpering. "This has been the worst day of my life," she groaned. The man was scowling down at her like an actor out of an old Bette Davis movie. "I'm sorry," she managed to say. "I don't know what I did wrong for you to be so furious with me, but whatever it is. Please don't kill me.

The man didn't reply, I don't usually cry so much, but to be abandoned by the man I love and attacked—with fire almost getting burnt alive, all in the same day, sets me off." As she wiped her eyes, she glanced down at the handkerchief. It was a large linen square, and around the border was an inch and a half band of intricate silk embroidery of what looked to be a white and red fan. "How pretty," she choked out.

"There is no time for trivialities. My soul is at stake—as is yours. I ask you again: What reason did you have to summon me here."

Rachelle was recovering herself. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was having a good cry all alone, and you, wearing that absurd outfit, came in here and started yelling at me. I've a good mind to call the police, or just sue your ass for attempted murder" By-the-way, how did you spit out fire?

It is illegal to burn people, you know.

"Illegal?" the man asked. He was looking at her arm. "Is that a clock on your arm? And what manner of dress is it that you wear?"

"Of course it's a clock, and these are my normal clothes. Conservative. No jeans or T-shirts. Nice blouse, nice skirt. You know, Miss Marple–type clothes."

He was frowning at her, but there seemed to be less anger about him. "You talk uncommonly strangely. What sort of ninja are you?" Throwing up her hands in despair, Rachelle stood up and faced him. He was quite taller than she was, so she had to look up. "I am not a ninja, and I am not part of your stage drama," she said firmly. "And now I'm going to leave this place, and I can promise you that if you try anything fancy with that fire or sword of yours, I'll scream so loud the whole city will hear. Here's your handkerchief. I'm sorry it's so wet, but I thank you for lending it to me. Good-bye, and I hope your play gets great reviews." Turning sharply, she walked out on him.

Madara was left alone, he didn't know what to do with a rude woman that was walking out on him, he had tried scaring her with his fireball justu so she would freak-out, go on her knees~beg for her life while spitting out all her plans and the names of the people who had sent her. However, that wasn't what had happened; she had ran off and hid herself instead. He was sure killing her right here and now wouldn't help his situation, she was extremely annoying pretending she wasn't responsible for his predicament.

He'd no time to waste here, his brother and clan might be in danger, besides there was a letter waiting to be finished; he was the only one to write it. He followed the girl, she'd the answers to his questions.

"At least nothing more horrible than what I've already been through can happen to me today," Rachelle murmured as she left the yard. There was a telephone booth beyond the gate, and Rachelle used it to make a collect call to her parents' home in Quebec City. A sleepy Sophia {her big sister}answered the phone.

Anybody but her, Rachelle thought, rolling her eyes skyward. She'd rather talk to anyone on earth than her perfect older sister.

"Rachelle, is that you?" Sophia asked, waking up. "Are you all right? You're not in trouble again, are you?" Rachelle gritted her teeth. "Of course I'm not in trouble. Is Dad there? Or Mom?" Or even a stranger off the street, she thought.

Sophia yawned. "No, they went up to the mountains. I'm here house-sitting and working on a paper."

"Think it'll win a Nobel prize?" Rachelle asked, trying to make a joke and sound carefree. Sophia wasn't fooled. "All right, Rachelle, what's wrong? Has that surgeon of yours stranded you somewhere?" Rachelle gave a little laugh.

"Sophia, you do say the funniest things. Mark and I are having a wonderful time. There are so many fantastic things to see and do here. Why, just this morning we saw a medieval play. The actors were so good. And you wouldn't believe how good the costumes are!" Sophia paused. "Rachelle, you're lying. I can hear it over the phone. What's wrong? Do you need money?"

"What a stuck-up bitch, lucky for her~she isn't here, or I would've strangled the life out of her skinny bones." Rachelle thought.

Try as she might, Rachelle could not make her lips form the word "yes." Her family loved to tell what they called Rachelle-stories. They loved the one about the time Rachelle got locked out of her hotel room when she was wearing only a towel. Then there was the time Rachelle went to the bank to deposit a check and walked into a bank robbery. What they especially loved about this story was that when the police arrived, they discovered that the robbers were carrying toy guns.

Now she could imagine Sophia's laughter when she told all the Richardson's cousins how funny little Rachelle had gone to Toronto and been left when she went for a walk, with no money, no passport, nothing. "And, oh, yes," Sophia would say over the howls of laughter, "she was attacked by a crazed stage ninja actor."

"No, I don't need money," Rachelle said at last. "I just wanted to say hello. I hope you a great day. See ya." She heard Sophia say, "Rachelle" as she dropped the receiver into the cradle. For a moment Rachelle leaned back against the booth and closed her eyes. She could feel the tears starting again. She had the Richardson's pride, but she'd never done anything to be proud of. She had two older sisters who were epitome: Sophia was a professor of physics, and Shania was a criminal attorney. Rachelle, with her lowly elementary school teaching job and her disastrous history with men, was the family jester. She was an endless source of material for laughter among the relatives.

As she was leaning against the telephone booth, her eyes blurred with tears, she saw the man in the armor leave and walking down the path. Coming down the lane was one of the buses, as usual doing about fifty km an hour on the narrow street. Suddenly, Rachelle stood up straight. The bus was coming, the man was walking very fast, and, somehow, she instinctively knew he was going to walk in front of the bus. Without another thought, Rachelle started to run. Just as she took flight, there was a man wearing a white gown walking in her direction. he too seemed to notice the man and the fast-moving vehicle. He too started running.

Rachelle reached the man first. She made her best flying tackle, the one she'd learned from playing football with her cousins, and landed on top of him. The two of them skidded across the gravelled path on his armor as though it were a little rowboat as the bus flew past them. If Rachelle had been only one-second late, the man would have been hit by the bus.

"Are you alright?" the white gowned man who looked like a vicar asked, offering his hand to help Rachelle up. "I . . . I think so," she said as she stood up and dusted herself off. "You okay?" she asked the man on the ground. "What kind of animal was that?" he asked, sitting up, but not attempting to stand. He looked dazed. "I did not hear it coming." His voice lowered. Rachelle exchanged looks with the vicar.

"I'll get him a glass of water," the vicar said, giving a little smile to Rachelle as though to say, You saved him, so he's all yours.

"Wait!" the man said. "What year is this?"

"Two thousand and fourteen," the vicar answered, and when the man lay back on the ground as if exhausted, the vicar looked at Rachelle. "I'll get the water," he said, then went hurrying off, leaving them alone.

Rachelle offered her hand to the man on the ground, but he refused it and stood up on his own. "I think you ought to sit down," she said kindly as she motioned to an iron bench inside the low stone wall. He looked at her suspiciously and he wouldn't go first but followed her through the open gate, then wouldn't sit until she had. But Rachelle pushed him to sit down. He looked too pale and too bewildered to pay attention to courtesy.

You're dangerous, you know that? Listen, you sit right here and I'm going to call a doctor. You are not well."

She turned away, but his words halted her. "I think perhaps I am dead," he said softly. She looked back at him in speculation. If he was suicidal, then she couldn't leave him alone. "Why don't you come with me?" she said quietly. "We'll go together to find you some help."

He didn't move from the bench. "What technique of conveyance was it that nearly struck me down?"

Rachelle moved to sit beside him. If he was suicidal, maybe what he needed most was someone to talk to. "Where are you from? You have an accent I've never heard before."

"I'm Japanese. What is this place? What ninja technique was that and what clan does it belong too?" I have never seen it in my life.

"All right," she said with a sigh. She could play along with him. "That was what we call a bus it's used for public transportation. She grimaced. "So what else don't you know about? Airplanes? Trains?" It was one thing to offer help, but she had important things of her own to take care of. "Look, I really need to go. Let's go to that church over there and have the vicar call a doctor." She paused. "Or maybe we should call your mother." Surely the people of this city knew of this beautiful crazy man who ran about in armor and pretended he'd never seen a wristwatch or a bus.

Do not dare talk of my mother, you fool, he spoke the last part with an insolent tone. For your own idiotic life, hope that my brother and clan are unharmed. Believe me, your pathetic little life depends on it.

"I'm sorry. She said quietly, she knew better than anger the wanna-be ninja. The last thing she wanted was to be burnt to a crisp and die before she married and have a family of her own. Where do you live? I could help you get home, you look too pale to be left on the streets alone. "I don't want you dying and your ghost comes back to haunt me for the rest of my miserable life, she thought."

"Do you know who it is you're talking to? All of your ancestors must number in the millions; its hard to believe that many people are to blame for producing you." You're talking to the leader of one of the strongest clan ever existed, you should stamp the useful information I've given you on your forehead. You better know your place, before you die stupid.

Rachelle was quite, looking at the man beside her, she wasn't sure of what to say to him.

What the man had done so far was: Insult her, and try killing her whenever she said something he didn't like…which was all the time.

"I'm calling someone, a doctor, anyone. Was all she could muster. She stood up to leave but he caught her hand and wouldn't let her leave. "I was sitting . . . in my office writing an important letter when I heard a woman weeping. The room darkened, my head swam; then I was standing over a woman—you." He looked up at her with disgust.

Rachelle thought that leaving this man alone would be so much easier if he weren't so utterly divine looking. "Maybe you blacked out after acting on stage. Why don't you tell me where you live so I can make sure you get home safely?" I promise if I do something stupid, then you can burn me how ever you like.

"When I was in the my workplace, the year was 1884." You said this year 2014, yes? How is that possible?

Delusional, Rachelle thought. His face is beautiful~breathtaking and his body is Godly but crazy. Just my luck.

"Come with me," she said softly, as though speaking to a child about to step over a cliff. "We'll find someone to help you."

The man came off the bench hesitantly, his black charcoal eyes blazing. The size of him, the anger of him, not to mention that he was steel-covered and carried a sword that looked to be razor sharp, made Rachelle step back.

"I am not yet ready for Bedlam, mistress. I know not why I am here nor how I came to be here, but I know who I am and from whence I came." She claims to be innocent, if it's true, then she's just another desperate woman trying to get my attention. Summoning the Great Uchiha Madarafor her own pleasure, the soon she tells me how to get back home, the soon I will have the pleasure of killing her.

She saw a smile on the man's handsome face, but it wasn't the every day smile, nope: It was a smile that could kill all animals if were unfortunate enough to be twenty miles from him. Rachelle had watched a lot of scary movies however, none of them could measure up to the scary and creepy look he was giving her right now. She felt threatened and confused, she wanted to abandon the hot dude and go try collecting what was left of her scattered life.

"But she couldn't leave him, she didn't understand why."

"I have to go home now," I know my brother is searching for me right about now and I would hate to think of what will happen if he doesn't find me. I want you to send me back this instant.

"Does he look like you? He must be hot too, I bet you're hotter tho! Ah…oops." Did i just say that out loud?

He smirked.

o_o`

Suddenly, laughter began to rumble deep inside Rachelle when she remembered what he'd said before. "You came from the eighteenth century. Japanese's ninja time, right? Of course. Oh, boy! This is going to be the best Rachelle-story ever. I'm jilted in the morning and three hours later a ghost holds a sword to my throat." She stood up. "Thanks a lot, mister. You've cheered me up immensely.

She's got a mouth that won't quit and a brain that won't start. Madara thought to himself.

Didn't you hear anything i told you? you really are a waste of human skin, aren't you? Do whatever you did to summon me here, and reverse it.

I didn't do a thing to you, I keep telling you that. Now if you'll excuse me, am going to call my sister and ask her to wire me 100 dollars—no more, no less—then I'm catching a bus to the hotel where Mark and I are staying. I'll get my plane ticket, then I'm going home. I'm sure that after today the rest of my life is going to be uneventful."

She turned away from him, but he blocked her path. From inside his blue pants he withdrew a leather pouch, looked in it, took out a bunch papers, and pressed them into Rachelle's hand, closing her fingers over them. "Take that money, woman, and be gone.

You have proved yourself to be worthless, I'll spare your useless life and spiteful tongue. I will beseech Kami-sama to reverse your wickedness or I'll have to beat it outa ya if we ever meet again, hopefully not."

She was tempted to throw the money at him but she noticed the many zeros on each paper, she needed money, she could find the place to exchange it into Canadian dollars and call her sister again.

"That's me, Wicked Witch Rachelle. I don't know why I want a bus when I have a perfectly good broomstick, she was trying to be sarcastic. I'll send your money back in care of the vicar. So long, and I hope we never meet again."

To be continued

first, I would like to thank those who followed and favs this story. You gave me the courage to continue, thanks for being awesome.

Secondly, If I receive some feedback from you...my good readers, I'll update 1-2 chapters weekly. I really wanna know what you guys think of this fic you can be honest with me, your opinions are much appreciated.

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