| Chapter 6 |

Feathers drifted like snow in front of her, speckling her vision black against a whitewashed background. It was like she was staring at a white wall as the sky rained down long, soft black snow.

Then suddenly, from her left, shoot a spinning star. An agonised yell shattered the pleasant silence. The feathers cleared, and the horrendous sight of Tobirama lying injured before her filled Satomi to the brim with dread and livid fear. She screamed his name, tried to run to him, but he beckoned her to retreat with a fearsome look skulking in his eyes. Terror arose inside of her as she watched him struggle to stand.

Something cut through the air, with a quiet whistling sound, and red splashed across her body. On her face, on her hands, dripping into her eyes, was Tobirama's blood.

She screamed.

She screamed, and screamed. Her terror getting the best of her; her hands shaking uncontrollably and everywhere the blood touched became numb. Numb with guilt, with pain, as she watched Tobirama die in front of her ...

His ruby eyes glimmered like glass in the light, looking empty as they stared at her. She tried to move towards him, but found her body refusing to obey. She stood still, screaming hoarsely, and watched as her beloved Tobirama passed away. And she didn't help ... she couldn't help ... she couldn't help her own lover, she couldn't save him ...

"So this is what you fear most?" crowed a silky voice behind her ear. Then the scene dispersed.

She was lying on her bed, covers draped over her body, her hands either side of her hips and staring at the canopy of the bed. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

"I would not be surprised if half of the clan thought someone was being murdered in this room," Izuna continued, not even glancing at Satomi, but playing with the same kunai from earlier. "You scream as though you have witnessed a murder."

"Do you have no shame?" croaked Satomi roughly, clutching her throat.

Izuna stilled. "Do I ... no shame? These words depart a Senju's mouth ... as though your clan is innocent?" Satomi had merely blinked before Izuna was looming over her, his kunai positioned at her throat. "Your clan slaughtered my father! How dare you question my ignominy when your clan murders people of my blood as though it is nothing?"

"I did not mean that—!"

"I should have killed you that night," resumed Izuna, breaking Satomi off. "But no – my brother insists that you can be of use to us. I disagree. I cannot fathom how you can be of use to our clan when we are superior to yours! We, the rightful sons and daughters of the Sage of Six Paths, have no use for you!"

"That is enough, Izuna."

As cutting as a gyrating shuriken, Madara's voice resounded around the chamber. His hair billowed slightly behind him as a chilling draft wafted into the room, mingling with the tension that lurked after the words spoken. Satomi's gasps of breaths could be heard, but nothing else. Madara stared hard at Izuna's back and Izuna, in turn, glowered at Satomi as though she was the one who had spoken against him. Finally, after several dragging minutes, Izuna moved the blade away from Satomi's throat. He still did not look at Madara.

"Will you speak with the Senju now?"

"Yes," answered Madara smoothly.

"Then I am no longer needed here." With that, he disappeared entirely. Madara had not moved from the doorway and Satomi was left to wonder how he had left. Was there a jutsu for teleporting one's self away to another place? Even with Izuna gone from the room, the tension did not evaporate. Madara stood, stock-still, in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"The genjutsu he cast," Madara started, staring unblinkingly at Satomi, who flinched and concentrated on her covers, "what did it show?"

"It was an illusion—"

"I know that," Madara cut in sharply, "Genjutsu and all its forms are illusions. They focus on the victim's fears, nightmares you could say. What did yours show?"

Satomi remained quiet.

Another moment passed in silence between them. Madara sighed, looked away from Satomi and strolled towards the window. "You will have to excuse his outburst," Madara started, his back facing Satomi. She glanced up and saw that, although he wore red armour similar to Hashirama, his back was unprotected. "My brother never recovered from the loss of our father."

"It is understandable."

"Do you believe so?"

Satomi's eyes met Madara's piercing stare and she looked down, clutching her wrist. "A father is an important figure in any child's life. Yours, surely, would be no different." she reasoned quietly.

Madara did not respond directly. He turned his head away and muttered, "Very well. That is a valid reason, I suppose." A pause occurred and Satomi peeked at him through her lashes: he stood tall with aristocratic arrogance, and not even his hair bristled in the slight draft now. Were all Uchiha Shinobi as prideful as him? "If you refuse to answer my question about the genjutsu, then at least answer me this – what is your relationship with Senju Tobirama?" The taste of the damned Senju's name was foul on his tongue. The taste worsened when a single sentence left her lips.

"He is my betrothed."

Madara sucked in his cheeks and exhaled through his nostrils. Had he known what stage they had entered, would he have still taken her as a hostage? His mother died that way; for the sake of her sons and husband, she left the safety of her home to meet with Death.

Without another word, he left Satomi to her thoughts.

Having dressed herself in a kimono hanging in the wardrobe, Satomi checked her appearance in the mirror. It wasn't as large as the one in her boudoir back at the Senju stronghold, but it was fairly well-seized. The kimono, however, was a different matter.

The sleeves were much too long and nearly covered her entire hands, while the neckline plunged far too low and showed more than a modest amount of cleavage. She didn't mind the length of the kimono as she didn't expect to be running at any point—currently, at least—but she didn't appreciate how loose the obi was. It simply would not tie properly and so she had to keep tying it up to stop it from unravelling!

Then a sudden knock at her door alarmed her.

"Err – wait, please!"

The door opened anyway and Madara strolled back in. Only he didn't enter from the door that Satomi had expected to open; he came in through the one connecting their bedchambers. He paused when she flushed scarlet, his eyes sweeping over the oversized kimono on her petite frame. "I see ..."

Satomi cleared her throat faintly. "Err – Madara-sama, I – um – please, could you ... ?"

"No," was the flat-toned answer.

Satomi bit the inside of her lip, one hand securing the obi and the other pulling the neckline up. "But I need to finish—"

"It can wait," Madara settled down by the low table and waited for her to join him. Squaring her shoulders, Satomi struggled to walk over to him with dignity and ended up tripping over the kimono's long hem. Reacting quickly, Madara managed to catch her before she hit the table. Sighing, he muttered sardonically, "Very graceful."

Satomi flushed again, her chin now touching her chest. "I – thank you, Madara-sama ..."

Madara sighed and lifted her up onto a seat opposite him. "No need to thank me. I have sworn to Hashirama to keep you out of harm's way, but I cannot keep to that agreement if you do not look after yourself in the first place."

Satomi bowed her head. "I apol—"

"Do not apologise, Senju!" snapped Madara, crossing his arms and staring at her menacingly. Satomi shrank under his intense gaze. "I have already told you it is a weakness!"

The air around them stiffened with apprehension. Satomi did not dare look up at him, not until he spoke that was, and then she glimpsed a softer expression on his face. It was almost as though he was weary.

"I have spoken with my Elders," he instigated delicately, wearing a solemn look. "I was not aware how serious your relationship with ... your betrothed was." He paused, closing his eyes and sighing. Reopening them, he ran a hand down his face and resumed, "They consider it best – as to not compromise the agreement between our clans – if Izuna is to be kept away from you. Instead he will be overseeing my duties, while I watch over you." He stopped abruptly and studied her expression for a reaction.

"Why is Izuna to be kept away from me? Is it because he could kill me?" asked Satomi softly. She didn't tear her eyes away from Madara, scared of the answer.

"Yes."

Evening approached with a grey haze cloaking the stronghold, twilight sidling across the houses below her window. The crescent moon hung steadily in the sky, watching. The glimmer of the stars was dull, and only a few could even be seen.

An old owl swooped down from the trees, edging its way towards a family of mice scuttling in the grass below. One mouse squeaked when it spotted the owl.

Clasped between her fingers was a tiny needle, thread pushed through its eye, weaving in and out of the kimono's hem. Satomi was dressed in her nightgown again. Sitting beside the window, waiting for night to reappear, Satomi had decided to use the time wisely and adjust several aspects of the kimono she had tried on earlier. The news of Izuna being forbade from coming near her still rolling around inside her head.

For a moment she drifted off into her thoughts. She hadn't expected it to happen. She knew Izuna disliked her immensely—he made it obvious—but surely his dislike for her would only intensify now he had been humiliated by her, forbade from coming near her, and have his own brother guard her from him. Prideful men were dangerous, both Tobirama and her father said that. Tobirama often associated prideful men with the Uchiha clan and them with revenge. There were many times she could recall him mentioning a curse of some sort, claiming the Uchiha became obsessed with hatred – hatred of anything that reminded them of love. So, at first, she had pitied them for it. But then her only surviving brother died – and she hated the Uchiha for taking him away.

But Hashirama had told her that everyone was susceptible to hatred in times of grief, and so that was how she had overcome it. But did any of the Uchiha know that? Or could they not stop grieving?

"My brother never recovered from the loss of our father."

Did that mean Izuna was grieving, and by means of lessening that grief he depicted the entirety of the Senju clan as his father's murderers? If so, then that was what she had done when Masayuki died. She could understand his pain – maybe she could help him, even.

But he would want to need it. Otherwise her help would amount to nothing, as he would not listen to her words nor heed her attempts of soothing his pain.

"Ouch!"

A lone miniscule droplet of crimson escaped the pinprick. Satomi stared at the blood that was set against the stalk whiteness of her skin as it trailed down her finger, almost mesmerised. How long had it been since she had seen her own blood? She couldn't even remember.

"Blood is something we all share, something we treasure – the blood between parent and child, brother and sister, old and young. It is precious to all of us because it is our life force. To have blood is like having love. We cannot live without it – we would perish if we did not have love."

Frequently, Hashirama spoke of love like a poet, retelling stories that he told his younger brothers as a child to Satomi as though she was a new addition to his collection of siblings. Not that he had such a collection anymore. After Itama's death, and Kawarama's death before him, Hashirama was valuing family and blood more and more. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. If Hashirama lost Tobirama, only the Gods knew what would happen ...

And so, she needed to escape. Soon, before something could happen to Tobirama ...

I can't say much this time, but: thank you for your reviews! :) It makes me happy! ;) Ciao!