| Chapter 11 |
Owls swooped low in the darkness, intimidating squeaking rodents and scuttling beetles. She had even come across a pair of owls fighting over a half-dead vole that was twitching on the ground below them. Foxes roamed the shadows, their golden eyes glinting like stars in the dark skies. Their high calls piercing through the eerie silence of the woods. All the animals she had heard about in her childhood, animals that she had never seen with her own eyes, were suddenly surrounding her – and it was putting her on edge.
Of course, she couldn't slow down. If she slowed down, she might be caught – killed, even. And she was not going to let that happen to her. She was going to return home, regardless of what clan was after her and how many Shinobis they had!
The crunching of twigs, the light rustling of grass and the faint jingling of the leaves heightened her nervousness. She had no real Shinobi training – she could not tell if she was being followed!
Pant, pant, pant. Pant, pant, pant.
Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump.
The drumming of her heart rivaled her gasps of breath; she couldn't think properly without either of the two interfering. Adrenalin was still rushing through her veins, feeding her energy temporarily and she was dreading to see what she would be like when it ended. If she lived that long, she should say.
Tiring from physical and mental fatigue, Satomi dropped down beside a grand oak tree. Tucking herself away in between the powerful roots, she bowed her head between her legs and breathed heavily. There was a searing stitch in her side and her feet were throbbing painfully. She shivered. The yukata wasn't very warm as it was designed for domestic dress more than survival purposes. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Satomi shivered again. The adrenalin was wearing off and she was left more afraid than she thought she would be.
The morning sun broke through the canopy of tree branches and leaves, scattering around the forest floor. Dirt was smeared across her feet and calves while leaves had nestled around her during the night. Her head was tilted at an awkward angle. When she woke up, her neck was sore and stiff, as were her shoulders that rubbed against the bark.
"Do not even think of moving, Senju."
At once she tensed and snapped her attention onto the towering frame of a Sharingan-wielding Uchiha Madara, his hair billowing in the breeze ominously. Instantly her breath caught in her throat. She gulped down air in an attempt to breathe. "Please …" All three tomoes started spinning menacingly and Satomi squeezed her eyes shut, tears glistening in the corners. "I just want to return home!"
A cold-skinned hand grabbed her chin roughly. "Open your eyes," commanded Madara. She didn't obey him. "I said, open your eyes."
"No."
He jerked her head sideways in attempt to shock her enough to involuntarily open her eyes; she squeezed them tighter together. "I will not be ignored. I have warned you of that before. Open your eyes, Senju!" bit out Madara impatiently, his grip tightening and making Satomi wince. She tried to back further into the tree, away from him, but to no avail.
"Please …"
"Open your eyes and look at me!"
"Please, I—!"
"I will count to three. One …"
"Please, Madara-sama, I cannot—!"
"… Two …"
"Please listen—!"
"Three."
"Please!" screeched Satomi, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her hands became buried in the holes of Madara's armour, her fingernails scratching against his chest through the black undershirt he wore beneath the red metal plates. He didn't retract his hand. Satomi sank her fingers deeper into his armour. "Please, I do not want to go back. I want to go home."
"You know I cannot allow that."
Satomi released a dry sob and for a moment, Madara hesitated. He let go of her chin and her face sank into her knees. He merely watched her as he straightened up, focusing on the pattern of the wood instead of the Senju woman by his feet.
"Please … for me."
"… No."
Flames licked at the bark of the log as they sat in silence. They had been travelling for most of the day, seeing as Madara had taken half of the night to hunt Satomi down, even going into daybreak hours.
Satomi curled up into a ball and stared at the spiralling flames. Her eyes glowed a peculiar yellow in the firelight. Her mouth was covered by her little fists, her knees tucked against her chest and her thighs clamped together: she resembled a mouse cowering in front of a cat. For the time they had been travelling she had not uttered a word. No little squeak to tell him whether she was angry or sad—although he could guess, of course—thus the meek tangle of limbs at the front of the fire.
Night had fallen without much complaint. In fact, Madara personally welcomed the night, although he was sure that Satomi may attempt to escape again. The image of her sobbing, pleading to be returned home, ventured into his mind's eye and he swiftly squashed the thought of granting her request. She was a prisoner and would be treated like one.
Unwrapping the bundle of fabrics that had been tied to his back, Madara hurled one of the long, scratchy materials at her. She flinched upon impact.
"You know, I once said I would never harm you." He called over to her condescendingly, "I have not relinquished that promise."
"Is that before or after you attacked me and forced me into a battle?"
Madara glowered at her through narrowed Sharingan eyes. "I would not recommend challenging me, Senju. For your own sake."
Satomi sucked in a breath and surveyed him carefully.
Madara looked away, towards the silvery light of the moon, and continued, "We will rest for a short while and then resume walking. Do not attempt to escape or else I will personally see to it that you no longer hold the right of privacy, even from me. Is that understood?"
Satomi cast him a dark look but said nothing. He turned back to her and her glare dropped.
"I expect an answer."
"Yes, Madara-sama." Satomi said slowly, her eyes falling back to the fire.
His eyes lingered on hers, his soft gaze making her blush ... she smiled in silent pleasure. He returned the look with a stroke of the back of his hand on her cheek.
The rough shaking of her shoulder awoke her from her memories. Blinking blurrily, Satomi squinted into the darkness and saw the hazy outline of a man towering above her. As the figure became more defined and details painted his face, Satomi became aware that his mouth was moving.
"Get up ... leaving ... return by ... understand ... ?"
"Pardon?" breathed Satomi, her eyes lolling backwards slightly as his Sharingan glared at her brightly. Embers and ash resided where the fire had once been prominent.
"Get up. We are the leaving the area now."
He moved away and Satomi watched him through half-opened eyes, his back darkening as he skulked into the shadows. In an instant, she summoned chakra to her feet, leapt up and bolted in the opposite direction. In an instant, she flew into Madara's strong, armour-plated chest, his hands gripped her upper arms.
"Let go of me!"
"I strictly told you—!"
"No, no!" shrieked Satomi, flailing her arms unsuccessfully as Madara's grip tightened and made her wince. "Aah!" she cried out in pain.
Madara shook her roughly. "Do not disobey me! I will kill you if you do that again!"
"You promised Hashirama-sama—!"
Madara plucked her away from the ground and held her in mid-air; Satomi stilled, fear widening her eyes and her mouth gaping into a perfect 'O'. He glared up at her. "You think a promise will stop me from hurting you?" he sneered, "The Elders told me to take you to spite your so-called lover. I chose not to due to my own reasons, not because of a meaningless promise to your leader. I have chosen you over my own brother's reputation. I have not permitted you to be harmed because I have my own plans for you." He pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, "Your betrothed has left you to my mercy. He has not once indicated that he wanted you back. He may even be seeking comfort in another woman's arms as we speak."
"No, no!" Satomi cried, resting her hands on Madara's breast plate. "He would not do that! He loves me!"
"A man can claims that he loves someone, but who would he choose to die; his lover or himself?" Madara taunted arrogantly. "Should I ever claim a woman, I would ensure that she only ever carried my claim."
"I am carrying his child—" choked Satomi, tears beginning to dribble down her cheeks.
Madara remained indifferent. "A whore can carry another man's child. She opens her legs too easily, as I suppose Tobirama thinks you do."
Satomi gasped, acting as though he had just slapped her.
Madara lowered her and she fell to her knees. As his words reeled in her mind, he merely watched her appraisingly. His Sharingan suddenly dimmed into a fathomless onyx-black. "Get up. We are leaving."
Intimidated by his eyes and threatening tone, Satomi obeyed and stumbled to her feet. Before she had even properly straightened up, Madara scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. Satomi yelped, clinging to whatever she could (which included several of his long hairs, although he didn't flinch like she thought he would). "M-Madara-sama—!"
Madara's reply was a swift as a bird taking flight. "I refuse to waste any more time."
A big thanks to GG, Blink-Dream and the Guest who reviewed! Thank you so much! I hope everyone likes this one!