| Chapter 10 |

"You cannot buy forgiveness, you know."

"I am aware," Hashirama's shoulders slumped, even though his armour had been long since removed from his body. He exhaled a deep sigh. Tobirama watched him in his melancholy. "I feel so ... helpless ... like it is my first time in battle after discovering who Madara really was ... I never thought I would feel this way again."

Tobirama's posture tensed at the name of the Uchiha, but Hashirama did not notice. Swallowing the lump in his throat and containing his emotions, he said, "Toka will be fine, the superior medic said so. She would not want her leader to blame himself for the enemy's attack. You know that."

"But—"

"You cannot buy forgiveness," Tobirama repeated, adding on, "But you can give condolences and sincere apologies. No one can do that better than you, no?"

"You do not have to sound so patronising, Tobirama!"

"I am not the one wallowing in self-pity and misplaced misery." Tobirama snapped, pushing away from the wall he was leaning against. He glowered down at Hashirama as he sat hunched over the low desk. "Toka said so herself that she would lay her life down for her leader – did you not hear that?"

"Yes, I—"

"The attack was a low, shameful tactic of the enemy and should he have succeeded, I doubt that I would have the chance to be talking to you right now!" Tobirama cut in, over the top of Hashirama's voice. Hashirama fell uncharacteristically silent, looking staggered. "Toka may be critically injured, but she will heal! You, on the other hand, had you taken that attack ... you may not even be here right now." Tobirama glowered at him with such intensity and emotion, Hashirama could not look away in fear of discouraging Tobirama from showing his emotions for once. "My last brother ... you are my last brother ... if you die ..."

Hashirama bit the inside of his bottom lip guiltily. "I am so sorry, little brother. Really, I am."

Tobirama continued staring at him, the emotions ebbing away slowly as control regained former ground. "Whatever happens from hereon, promise me one thing."

Hashirama nodded in consent.

"Do not die first."

Outside, hanging desolately amongst the thinning clouds, the sun remained dim and weak in comparison to the striking cerulean of the sky.

Madara observed the sky coolly, his mind reeling from the admission of Senju Tobirama's letter. Engaged ... carrying his bastard child ... at least, he mused inwardly, he did not carry out the mission the Elders had set him. Though he could not pretend it was for Tobirama or even Hashirama's sake, but solely because he refused to look malleable for the Elders. He was not their puppet; they did not rule over him.

Right now, he supposed she was bathing. He had a tub brought into her bedchamber for her to do so, after all, she had not been allowed to leave the room since he had assigned her there. Meals were brought to him and he brought them to her; whether she ate them or not remained in her control.

A loud, sudden crash! came from next door.

Unprepared for such a noise, Madara unthinkingly grabbed his blade and stormed into Satomi's chamber. He rushed straight in, despite the surprised scream from Satomi, and slowly—ridiculously slowly—everything fell into place. There was no emergency. There was no enemy in the room. There was, however, a rather compromising position now. Very slowly, Madara awoke to the fact that he had—for once—overreacted; Satomi had merely slipped as she got out of the bath, presumably tipped the bath over and henceforth was shivering on the floor, trying to cover every inch of her exposed flesh from his Sharingan-bright eyes. Again, Madara seemingly found himself nearly intoxicated by the blush that seemed to always settle on her cheekbones.

"Err – erm – g-get out!"

As quick as a cheetah, Madara fled from the room, his door slamming shut after him. Back against the oaken frame, Madara didn't blink nor did his Sharingan fade from his eyes. He had just fled ... for the first time in his life, he had run away ... what in the Gods' names had happened to him?

Being against the door, he could hear Satomi shuffling on the other side. Inside his mind he could imagine her flustering even though he had left, wondering why he had responded so quickly but then recalling the truce with Hashirama. Maybe she was wondering if he was thinking of her right now, on the other side of the door? Would she wonder, though? She was Senju and undoubtedly raised to believe the Uchiha were as evil as so many clans guessed them to be. Would she be like Hashirama and desire to learn more about him and his clansmen, or would she follow Tobirama's outlook? Tobirama was her betrothed, her lover and her unborn child's father—(Madara felt sickened to think of her having that kind of intimacy with that damn rat)—surely she would follow his example? Maybe that was why they were lovers – their shared beliefs.

Or it could simply be a case of the Senju lying to get her back. After all, how many men had done such a stunt before now? Tobirama was a man, despite Madara's prejudice him, so he would only desire Satomi's safe return, right? Maybe it was the only way he could convince the Senju Elders.

A small knock, knock resounded directly behind him. At first he tensed and then forced his entire posture to relax. What was he concerned about, exactly?

... Precisely.

"Are you decent?"

"Err –" Satomi's voice sounded unfocused, distracted. Madara questioned whether his question had taken her aback. He could even picture her expression: eyes wider than normal, blinking twice as much as normal, lips slightly parted, maybe even a flush creeping over her cheeks ... "Yes, Madara-sama."

Creaking the door open to reveal a fully-clothed Senju Satomi, who indeed had a blush coating her cheekbones, Madara waited for her to say something. Hesitating at first, Satomi eventually did; "I regret—" Madara's eyes narrowed warningly, but Satomi's gaze was fixed onto the ground at her feet. "—shouting at you in that manner and I wish to express my – regrets – to you."

"This better not be an apology."

"Of course not, Madara-sama."

Noting at her tone sounded rather flat instead of sincere, Madara decided to push her slightly. He leaned down, close to her ear, and whispered, "How sure are you, Senju?"

He could see her suppressing a shiver, but not quite managing to control her body. A slight quiver of her kimono proved that to him. "I am ... as certain as usual, Madara-sama."

Madara could not control the urge to smirk at her hesitation. She was very obviously not and did not even put up a good charade of acting as though she was not intimidated or nervous of his proximity. But she held her ground, marking her subtle defiance of him while remaining respectful. He may have underestimated her.

"May I ask something of you?"

The question, to Madara's ears, sounded carefully constructed and he wondered if she had been planning to ask this question for a while – had she been waiting for a moment of weakness?

"That depends on what you are asking."

She did not miss the calculating look he sent her. She clutched her wrist again. "Soon—very soon—I will be in need of some more ... erm, appropriate attire." She licked her bottom lip, not sure how to phrase it or even she should at all. What if the Uchiha used it against Tobirama?

"If this concerns your pregnancy, you needn't worry." Madara doubted he would ever forget the stunned look he received from her, a look of absolute fear mingled with panic. "I am aware of the situation."

"Err ..."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her expectantly, as though expecting her to retort. She did said nothing and stared at the floor still.

The covers felt cold under her fingertips. Pausing to glance at the window, her thoughts drifted to Tobirama and her heart ached in yearning. How long had it been since she had last seen him? Would she be returned soon, and would they be wedded before the birth? Should they be, which she hoped, then they would be able to declare their child legitimate. If not, there was no point in returning to the Senju clan. Whores weren't wanted anywhere but in brothels.

To be honest, she hadn't known what intimacy like that could have led to at the time. She had merely thought that everything was an action of love, of affection. She had never intended to create a life that would only experience pain in this life.

How had Madara known? She wasn't suffering from morning sickness, nor was she suffering from anything else. A medic hadn't examined her in her sleep, right?

Fatigue wore her mind down, slowing all processes and disturbing her focus. Even though she saw the objects and furnishings in the room, she didn't absorb the details – she didn't differentiate between the gloomy colours, whether something was hard or soft. All she could think of was the fact that Madara now knew. The leader of the Uchiha clan—the Senju's sworn enemies—knew about her baby. And she didn't know how.

What he could do, knowing that information, terrified her. There was now no other alternative: she had to escape, run back to the Senju clan without any assistance.

The dangers, should she be caught, were simple – she would die on the spot. The Uchiha was infamous for its merciless attitude, cutthroat methods and battle prowess. The odds were against her, and she knew she was as good as dead. But she had to try.

She would rather die than live knowing that she burdened Tobirama to point his own death could be just around the corner.

Visions of black feathers and blood echoed in her tired mind, and she shivered at the memory.

Heading towards the wardrobe, she pulled open the door and rummaged through the garments, finding a short navy yukata. Seeing as it was the best choice, there was no option but to use it. Satomi rolled her shoulders back, demanding herself to calm down, and shrugged off her kimono. The dark robe pooled around her ankles, crumpled on the floor. As she shoved her arm through one of the sleeves, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Tresses of orange-gold hair, curling down to her breasts, contrasting starkly to the dark fabric; she would stick out like a sore thumb. In the mirror she caught sight of the dark cloth poking out of the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. An idea suddenly came to her mind.

Grabbing the cloth, she tore a quarter off the bottom and placed it on the foot of the bed. Then she wrapped the larger piece of material around her head, tucking in every strand of hair possible. Once that was done and she couldn't see any stray curls, she picked up the torn piece of cloth and wrapped it around her mouth, covering her nose as well.

It wasn't impossible for there to be a kunoichi in the Uchiha clan, was it?

Then it came on. The rush of nerves mixed with adrenalin, coursing through her body and sparking wild ideas in her mind. What if she was caught? What if she got lost in the woods? What if, what if ...

Would she be killed for attempting to escape?

Taking one last look around the room, her mind buzzing, Satomi squared her shoulders and then looked to the window and the night sky beyond the glass. A few more moments and she would be running back home, to Tobirama and her clan. She would have escaped imprisonment. A smile twitched her lips. The anticipation of returning home was too hard to fully suppress; she had missed the Senju stronghold so much, it would come as an immense relief to be safe again.

Glancing at Madara's door, she waited for a minute.

Lifting her right hand and placing it on her left wrist, she lightly pressed a meagre amount of chakra into the concealed seal. A few seconds passed without change. Then a small, thin tanto magically appeared in her right hand. Her smile faded and she became serious. As she turned the tanto over, it flashed dimly in the nightlight.

Here goes nothing.

I just wanted to say a big, big thank you! to Blink-Dream and xGuiltyXGigglesx03 for your reviews! Thank you!

~ Ciao!