| Chapter 9 |

Morning sunlight gleamed off the mirror's surface, the light brokenly filtering into the boudoir. All the while, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the young man did not move from his corner. His thoughtful eyes did not waver from the bed where he had seen her, wrapped in pure white linen and sometimes simply without concealing her body from his eyes, lay waiting for him.

Swallowing the dry lump that scratched his throat, Senju Tobirama forced his face to remain unyielding – to the bittersweet memories, the angry thoughts, the severe pain ...

Senju Tobirama did not break easily. He was proud of that. He would not break for an Uchiha, not Izuna and definitely not Madara. He would not yield.

Drip.

"Damn it," were the two words which left his dried mouth, flung from his chapped lips. "Damn it." His voice got stronger as the fight to stay composed grew harder. Resistance was failing him.

"You know, my father told me once that being a medic was the better choice, that having the basic skills was enough because determination would prevail anyway ... do you think that is true, Tobirama? Should I continue being a medic so I can help the other women, or should I try to pursue being a ninja? What do you think?"

"I think you should do as you please. You are not a child anymore, Satomi-chan."

"Oh!" She flustered, her eyes widening. Then suddenly she bowed lowly to him. "My apologises, Tobirama-kun, I did not mean to offend you by calling you—"

"It is fine," he interrupted her smoothly. "I do not mind your familiarity." His words made her flush again, and he thought for a moment there was something appealing about that blush that crawled onto her cheeks and the way she hesitated at his words.

Breathing in, he let the memory simmer on his mind, savouring each movement he could recall.

Women were always in need of assurance, his father had told him once. Give them enough compliments and you will get on perfectly. It is all about taming, like first learning to discipline yourself. The man must be the strong one in the family, otherwise everything falls apart.

But his father was wrong.

The man wasn't the strongest and the woman wasn't the kink in the armour, like his father had recounted to all four of them at the time. Without the woman, the man is liable to become cold and detached. He is liable to do so many things wrong while thinking them to be right, that he no longer understands who he is but becomes another man altogether. And that was what happened to his father, after their mother committed suicide. Of course, the word isn't spoken aloud – it was tabooed, even nowadays it was. But they all knew – the three of them. After Kawarama's death, their mother dreaded waiting at home and hearing which son she had lost next. She couldn't stand the thought of her children dying before her. And he lied about it.

The air suddenly became denser, heavy like the burden that had haunted him since childhood. His mother—the woman he loved and would have given his own life to protect—was buried in the rotting earth because of this corrupt world and its vindictive wars.

Surely, as there stood the Shinobi code, people would think of obeying it? Not just for the protection of themselves, but also for their beloved ones and their honour. Or was honour passé now?

Tobirama scoffed acridly.

Honour had long since been forgotten by the men and women of the era. The deaths of thousands of children proved enough as evidence.

Tugging at her hair, Izuna watched, grinning in a rather sadistic manner, as she gasped and jerked upwards into a sitting position. At first she didn't notice him, but when she did, she froze mid-breath.

"W-what—?"

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Izuna then glanced over his shoulder at the door in the opposite wall. If this was going to work, then she had to be silent. If Madara heard even the faintest of noises, there was no doubt he would come in to investigate. Moreover, that was not a scenario Izuna desired.

Tomoes spinning lazily while Satomi stared, hypnotised, Izuna placed her under genjutsu and watched her fall into a senseless slumber. Peeking at the door once more, he picked her up, dragging the heavy covers off her body, and snuck over to the window. Opening it, he peered down and then turned back to the room. The sheets on the bed would do.

When the sheets were hanging limply out of the window, Izuna turned back and faced the door that led into the hallway. It was partly open. He hadn't left it open.

"Put her down and go back to bed."

Snapping his attention on to the seething form of his older brother, Izuna steeled himself. "I would usually listen to you, brother, but I will not. I will not let you defile yourself and your integrity for the sake of the Elders."

"Izuna, the Elders demanded that I take her tonight. Are you aware of that, are you not?"

Izuna snapped his jaw shut, tightened his jaw muscles and then wrenched his teeth apart. "So you did it? Why?" He scoffed angrily. "You are worth more than a Senju – the filth they carry – Brother, why would you—?"

"Did I say what I did? I only informed you of when the Elders wanted it carried out." Madara interrupted him smoothly. "I have no interest in taking a woman unwillingly nor dishonouring the Senju clan's second-in-command." Madara stepped closer to him. "You can put her down; your shoulder will be filthy by tomorrow morning, you know." His tone was now conversational. "Anyway, I have just recently received word from the Senju clan's Elders."

"Are they still refusing to collect their dirt from us?" Izuna muttered scornfully, flinging Satomi onto the bed uncaringly. Madara's eyes lingered on Satomi's body to see if she would react: she did not stir at all.

"They are considering a bargain for her safe return," Madara corrected him, his eyes darkening. "Apparently, Tobirama had already laid his claim on her." The meaningful look Madara sent Izuna made him sneer distastefully.

"What does he see in her?" jeered Izuna, casting Satomi a hateful glower as though her very presence was affronting to him. "She is pathetic!"

Madara cast Satomi one last glance before gesturing for Izuna to come into his bedchamber so they could talk privately, without risking her waking up and hearing about the bargain. "Come in here, I want to tell you a few other things as well, Izuna."

Ever since she awoke this morning, a sense of hazy drowsiness that stalked her and whenever she tried to focus on small fine details, like the text of the scroll she was attempting to write, the black and white blurred into one smear. Huffing, she placed her brush down and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. Why did she feel so ... ugh, what could she call it? She simply felt ... flu-ish. It was like she was ill. But that wasn't the only thing. Over the last week or so, she could felt oddly cumbersome and even one morning she had felt the urge to vomit. Very briefly, Tobirama's words echoed in her mind.

"Rest regularly until the illness goes away. If it pursues for another week, then I will take you to one of the superior medics."

One of the superior medics ... it was the dream of any medic to reach that level, to no longer be recognised as a common medic who specialised in diagnosing illnesses, healing wounds and conducting life-saving surgeries, but to also be able to merely touch the patient's body and know what was wrong. Oh, how Satomi had dreamt of joining their ranks and being recognised – just like every other man and woman in her trade.

Knock, knock.

"Erm – who is it?"

The door clicked open and Tobirama appeared in her boudoir doorway. He rested against the wooden frame, arms crossed in their usual manner. "How are you feeling today?"

"No better than before," she replied earnestly, another hot flush washing over her body. Satomi clasped the table to stabilise herself, feeling unsteady simply sitting down. In a flash, Tobirama was beside her and hauling her up. "What are you ... ?"

"There is a superior medic waiting in the west wing of the hospital ward, in a private room. I asked him to see you for an examination." Tobirama told her firmly, his decisive tone telling her that there was no room for argument against him.

Still, Satomi thought of giving it a try. "But I feel—"

Tobirama gave her a hard look and she automatically yielded, intimidated by his intensified stare and pursed lips. Defeated, Satomi ducked her head.

Neither of them expected the examination to reveal to them what it did: the shock had even rendered Tobirama speechless. The superior medic was even fazed by the results, momentarily giving Tobirama a look of disbelief as though the second-in-command had been caught doing something taboo – which he kind of had. Coughing to cover his disbelief (after a severe look from Tobirama), the medic told them that it would be in their best interests to marry shortly and quietly.

"Powerlessness and silence go together[1]," came a drawling voice from her far-right. Blinking distractedly, Satomi turned her head round to glimpse Madara.

"Is that right, Madara-sama?" croaked Satomi.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Strolling to the window, he turned his back to her and clasped his hands together behind his back – he stood in what Satomi called his 'usual position', like an emperor overlooking his fortress. Several minutes passed in silence with Madara watching the landscape as Satomi dwelled on her memories, her hand absently caressing her lower torso. In the glass of the window, Madara watched her hand calculatingly.

The surface of her abdomen was rather flat, although the curve of her breasts had to be excluded as all women had shaped chests. So could the claims in the Senju's letter be false? They would be running a high risk, though, because even if they were correct in their assumptions, how would they know that the Uchiha would not poison her to prevent future Shinobis emerging from the Senju clan? Unless there were Elders who wanted the death of Satomi to come. But the risk with that was equally as severe – the planned death of their second-in-command's lover, surely they knew better than that? Although, if Izuna was correct, they could possibly be planning to blame the Uchiha.

Madara sighed.

"Is something wrong?"

The soft cooing voice called him from behind and Madara realised that he had momentarily forgotten his captive. Half-inclining his head to look at her from the corner of his eye, he raised an eyebrow slightly. "What would give you that impression?"

Satomi remained unfazed, used to the question as Tobirama had said it to her so many times before. "You look like you are in thought. Something must be troubling you. You do not usually look like that."

"How you would know that for certain?"

Madara could have sworn half a smile had formed on her mouth before swiftly flitting away. "You have been guarding me for quite a while, Madara-sama. I have grown accustomed to your usual stoic expression, if I am allowed to call it that." She bowed her head at the end.

"Hn."

Eyes closed, Satomi smiled lightly to herself. And your one-syllable answers, she added on mentally. She did not date speak it in case her words offended him. From the time they had fought against each other, Satomi had been wary of him – he was an incredible opponent, and she strongly suspected that he was holding back on her. If that was the case, then escaping the Uchiha stronghold was not the least of her problems – he would be, instead.

Madara turned away to the window. "Never call my face stoic again, Senju. Emotions worn casually are less appreciable than emotions that are controlled and displayed accordingly."

"Of course, Madara-sama."

[1] Quote from Margaret Atwood

A great big thank you! to all of those who reviewed! I'm sorry I don't have much time to say more, but it does mean a lot! So thank you very, very much!

Ciao! ~S.L.