Thank you to everyone who kindly took the time to leave feedback for the last chapter.
Chapter CVIII
Memories will surface - taken in thrall,
By a crimson kaleidoscope's summoning call,
Revealing the deepest of secrets,
Buried within,
A stone-cold heart,
Tainted with sin.
~x~
A crushing heaviness weighed upon Sasuke's chest as he stared down at Sakura's sleep-flushed face. She was in the same position he had found her in when he had first regained consciousness, minutes before his entire world had been flung violently off its axis by the staggering discovery of the return of his kin.
Everything had changed. Nothing was the same. In an unexpected twist of events that defied the will of The Fates themselves, two cherished members of his family had been restored - and so too had his past memories of the young woman slumbering on the chaise longue before him.
Heart pounding, he gazed at her, stricken and transfixed in equal measure, like a blind man who had regained access to the glorious planes of colour and vision, restored to a clarity far too overwhelming for his senses to process. His emotions were in turmoil, thrown as he attempted to reconcile the past with the present, for she was the same Sakura as he knew her to be in her current form, and yet, with his memories returned - she was so much more.
She was his Kore. His sweet Persephone, with whom he had fallen wildly in love and formed an ardent bond. A bond that had consumed them both to the brink of insanity. Like a blazing flame she had set his world alight, a jubilant ray of blinding, hallowed sunlight that had burst through the shadowy veils of his existence. She had filled his cold, lonely existence with warmth and happiness. Just as she did in the present.
They had both of them been so young, so naive. They had loved each other foolishly. Blindly. Passionately. With a possessiveness that had bordered on addiction, on dangerous obsession.
The ache in his heart intensified. It was no wonder that she had captivated him all over again the moment he had set first eyes on her at the funeral. The slight fragment of recognition that Shisui had left deeply buried in the farthest recesses of Sasuke's mind - a remnant of Sakura's light compelling enough to cause Sasuke to go against his own principles and character by becoming fixated on a mortal despite his most valiant attempts to resist the senseless gravitational pull he had felt toward her - had evidently been enough to not only seize his attention, but to guarantee that he would not and could not resist pursuing her again.
At last he understood what Shisui had done. He had made it impossible for Sasuke to walk away, using his powers of manipulation and mind control to ensure that once Sasuke inevitably encountered his reincarnated lover, he would be overcome with the incessant, inexplicable desire to know more of her. Sasuke recalled the way his thoughts had turned to her so often in those early days, how he had raged against that, struggling to keep away and failing to fathom why he could not.
Those thoughts had urged him to act, to unravel the confounding mystery Sakura had presented. The cunning trap his cousin had set had worked, in the most catastrophic and unnatural way imaginable, given how Sasuke had chosen to not court her by any ordinary, pleasant, or remotely charming means. But it had nevertheless succeeded in reuniting them, and allowed them the second chance his brother and cousin had wished to give back to them.
But just as his kin had cautioned, it hurt to remember. Recalling the torment of their past life in perfect clarity, the terrible way their doomed romance had ended, ripped Sasuke to shreds. It had filled him with a sorrow so punishing, so distressing and profound, it had triggered the awakening of a second Rinnegan. What had happened between them, the misery and destruction and heartbreak that being tied to him had rained down upon the innocent Kore, and the ultimate price she had paid for loving him - her life - filled Sasuke with a piercing guilt, with grief so debilitating that it brought him to his knees beside Sakura's sleeping form.
He lifted a hesitant hand to touch her, his fingers afflicted with fine tremors. But a moment later, he snatched it back, his mind a furious cyclone of commotion. What right did he have to touch her when he knew the truth and she did not? He'd had no right to approach her again at all, no right to seduce her into the shadows, to selfishly leech from her light after he had so callously crushed her heart the first time.
A scream had lodged itself in his throat when he had regained consciousness in his brother's arms, with his memories restored and his highly-strung emotions razed, a scream it had taken all his power to keep from manifesting. He had immediately despised himself for what he had allowed to happen to her. He had hated Madara even more, with a ferocity he did not think it possible to hate anyone. And he had been furious at his kin for robbing him of memories that had been so deeply sacred to him, furious that he finally comprehended why they had done precisely that.
His brother and cousin had been accurate in their assessment. Sasuke would have blamed himself. Had he believed himself to be responsible for Persephone's tragic demise, the guilt would have shattered him. On top of the passing of his own family, he would not have found the strength to pick himself back up again. For the Uchiha loved more deeply than any other clan, and the collective losses of both his kin and his lover would have broken him.
That he had wounded Sakura so was no less easier in the present to digest. His actions had been born of the desperate need to protect her from being dragged into the brutality of war. They drowned Sasuke in a treacherous ocean of unspeakable horror, shame and remorse, and yet, what other choice had he truly had back then?
None. They had been far too involved with one another. Far too close, entangled with one another's very souls. She had been a dangerous weakness, an enticing distraction that he had indulged in for far too long. But the pleasurable intoxication of young, first love had made him turn a blind-eye to the affairs of his clan. And he had not known of Madara's sinister plans until it was too late.
Sasuke dragged in a slow, unsteady breath. He had never had the chance to grieve Kore's loss, for her demise had been wiped from his memories, and he found himself struggling to negotiate his past regret and the peace they had made in their present realities. Sakura had been his world back then, had bewitched him in mind, body and soul - just as she had in her present form. She had given all of herself to him without inhibition. She had broken every rule to be with him. And he had returned her love with heartbreak.
With profound remorse he recalled the terrible words he had uttered to her in the forest, on the night he had cast her aside for good, in the foolish belief that cutting off all ties with her would shield her. He had masked his own pain and emotions, thanking her in earnest before leaving her behind, fully intending never to see her again. But he had. He remembered the mindless panic that had clawed at him when he had realised, with horror, that she was being held captive in his realm.
Sasuke swallowed back the bitter tasting lump in his throat. She had told him that she would hate him forever when Madara had forced them to dance together before the royal court of the Underworld. Every single word she had spoken to him replayed in his mind, words she had flung like kunai at him. They sliced through him, stabbing daggers that left weeping wounds in their wake. She had looked at him with such hatred, such intense disappointment and hurt back then, wrongly believing he had thought her simply a game to him. She'd had no idea that the only game they'd both been forced to partake in had been that of Madara's choosing.
'I will never forgive you. For as long as I live, for as long as I draw breath, I will hate you, Hades. I will curse you, for every pain you have caused me, for the way you betrayed me. For the way you cast aside my love and trust, and showed me what monsters you and your people truly are. I hope you will know nothing but guilt and grief and wretched loneliness until the end of your days. And until the end of mine, until the end of time, I will hate you, always, I will hate you forever!'
His eyes burned as he gazed down at her, his heart heavy, encased in lead, lost in the storm of his memories and conflicting emotions. He remembered how devastated and helpless and trapped he had felt, how he had gulped down the urge to answer her that had bubbled like molten lava inside his chest. He had treated her coldly, when he had wanted nothing more than to stop her from walking away by hauling her back into his arms, and shadow-warping them both away from the watching eyes of the court, to a private location where he could explain everything to her, where he could prove his innocence, where he could make her understand-
But his hands had been tied. Madara had been monitoring him like a hawk, and Sasuke had been denied any opportunity to make amends. His memories had soon after been sealed, and she had died.
Her words haunted him, and made the fact that Sakura had fallen for him all over again even more harrowing. Had she possessed any recollections herself, then the words confirmed that she surely would have wanted nothing more to do with him.
And he could not have blamed her. Knowing him had destroyed her. Ingrained in his mind's eye was the horrific memory of a bleeding, ashen Kore dying in a sobbing Aphrodite's arms. It was an agonising image, haunting him more than everything else. He had woken up alone in the Underworld after his clan had already departed for the battlefield, and stumbled out onto the surface, his head throbbing, his thoughts muddled. He'd found a trail of withering, black flora, and his feet had moved almost on instinct to follow it to its source, his horror mounting with every step he'd taken. The shock he'd felt at discovering her in such a state had rooted him to the spot. He'd been unable to process what had happened, unable to even remember how much she had loved him, for parts of his memories relating to her had already been tampered with by Madara, who had caught him smuggling Persephone out of their realm.
Then Itachi and Shisui had arrived, and Sasuke had automatically placed himself between them and Kore. He could remember no more after that, and knew that was when Shisui must have sealed off his memories.
It was little wonder that Ino had harboured such animosity toward him. Sasuke felt even greater anger toward himself for lacking the strength to change her fate back then. It was difficult not to take all the blame upon his shoulders, difficult to keep himself from being buried under the stifling weight of despair, self-loathing and remorse. Difficult not to pay heed to the accusatory whispers that told him had he resisted becoming romantically involved with her, then perhaps she might have been spared the agony of her fate altogether.
But Sasuke was not as he had been back then. He had grown, matured, and knew the truth behind the war. For all the guilt he had every right to feel, he knew the fault was not truly his, for he had done everything in his limited power back then to protect Kore, to push her away, believing that his harsh actions would save her. He had freed her without knowing that she had been poisoned, innocent and oblivious to the fact that she would be forced to defy her very function the moment she stepped foot on the surface again.
Even if he had not let her out of her cell, Sasuke knew that she would have perished regardless. Madara had already doomed her. When Sasuke had snuck Kore out, the Titan had been waiting for her to be brought to him before they marched out to the battlefield. She had been a ticking bomb, set to detonate regardless of who returned her to the surface. Perhaps Sasuke's actions had spared her the anguish, pain and humiliation of being dragged out before her family and friends in chains. He held no reservations that Madara would have cruelly forced the Olympians to watch her defy her function and witness her death.
In abandoning her, Sasuke had fully intended to sever all ties. He knew he could not hold himself responsible for the outcome of her fate, for he had not been the one to deliver Sakura into Madara's hands, nor had he been the one who had told the Titan about her identity and gifts. He had broken her heart by discarding her love - but he had not betrayed her to the enemy.
There was only one monster to blame for the calamity that had befallen her.
Falling in love with her had not been a mistake in itself. Sasuke could not regret what they'd had, only the barbaric, dreadful way it had ended. The love he and Persephone had shared had been sincere and mutual. Were it not for the blight of Cronus, their relationship might have been free to flourish without interference. All the precious stolen moments they had spent together had been moments when Sasuke had felt the most alive.
He had broken no laws, merely fallen for her at an inopportune time of unrest when war had been brewing. Romantic liaisons between dwellers of the Underworld and surface folk - whether mortal or otherwise - while frowned upon, had not been uncommon, so long as they were kept under the radar and private, to be presented to Madara only if and when one of his subjects sought a formal union, or the sharing of the Forbidden Fruit with their chosen sweetheart. Relationships between inhabitants of the two realms had certainly never been outlawed. Madara himself had taken a surface goddess as consort.
The mistake was that Persephone had been the daughter of an Olympian. It was for that reason alone that she had been punished, used as a political pawn to force Zeus and his allies to take up arms against the Underworld.
And that was nobody else's fault except Madara's. Madara, who was the root of all evil. Madara, who had stolen so much time from them. Time lost to despair and guilt, to anger and suffering and tragedy, to misunderstandings and death.
Now that Itachi and Shisui had been restored to his side, Sasuke told himself he was thoroughly glad to be the one tasked with sealing away the despicable Titan. He relished the thought of delivering his ancestor's end. It no longer mattered that it would cost him his own future existence and freedom. His mind would be at peace, knowing Sakura would be well-provided for and protected by the kin he left behind. She would not even have to rule if she did not wish it. He knew that both Shisui and Itachi would offer to take that burden from her, returning more freedom into her hands. The freedom Sasuke had wished to give her, sparing her from being shackled to the throne as he was.
His eyes caressed Sakura's features. How long had he remained kneeling by her side? All time had suspended, and he stared at her both with the awe of one who'd had restored to them the most precious of gifts believed to be forever lost, and with trepidation and pain.
He had been blessed with a second chance, not only at their relationship, but to make Sakura understand the truth about the past. She had already absolved him of all blame, but would that change when her own memories of her excruciating first death came flooding back to torment her? How would she react? Would she be the same Sakura he knew, or would she be overwhelmed by recollections of her past life and forget everything of her present? Who would the immortal Sakura be? Dread tightened like a noose around Sasuke's neck. It made him uneasy that he could not anticipate how events might unravel. She would at the very least require time to absorb everything, just as he had taken the time to do so after parting from his kin in the banqueting hall. Perhaps she would be so overcome and upset, she would not wish to see or speak to him for a time at all.
He swallowed thickly, heart drumming against his ribcage. There was only one way to find out. It was unavoidable, it would surely pain them both, but Sasuke told himself that as long as he did not let go, as long as he held her through the storm, then they could surely weather the tempestuous, rough tides and make it out to the calm waters of true reconciliation together.
Once the seal was removed, no more secrets would remain between them. Only the one Sasuke was forced to keep concealed from Sakura by sacred oath, until the time came after the war to tell her of the Mark he bore. They would know each other, as they once had, as they then were, souls bared, hearts open. No more deception. No more fighting. Only what he hoped was acceptance and healing.
Until the inevitable day would come when he broke her heart all over again, once she came to realise the high price he had offered in exchange for peace. Himself.
But Sasuke did not allow himself to dwell on that future. He could only worry about that future if he secured it. His priority was to save her life. The time had come at last to put an end to the cycle of torment that Sakura had endured for far too long. First he would restore her memories. And then, the immortality that was rightfully hers. No longer would she have to fear death as she once had. No longer would he fear losing her to her curse. It was in Sasuke's power to free her, and that was precisely what he was going to do, regardless of how she responded to having her memories returned.
Sakura stirred, groaning softly. His cue to act. All too aware that the effects of Shisui's enforced state of sleep were at last on the verge of wearing off, Sasuke took a deep breath, steeled himself, and gathered her in his arms, lifting her up from the chaise as he rose fluidly to his feet.
Cradling her close to his chest, he then vanished into ripples of shadow, transporting them both to his private chambers.
~x~
The nightmares were frighteningly vivid. Ruthless. Terrifying. One horrific sequence followed after another, holding his mind prisoner in a never-ending cycle of torment, from which there was no escape or hope of respite to be found. No matter how hard he battled to extricate himself from the cruel barbarity of the visions, no matter how loudly he screamed, no matter how much he willed himself to pass into the merciful clutches of oblivion, they did not abate. Brutally they tortured him, puncturing his mind like piercing talons, punishing his senses, robbing him of all awareness of time and space.
Until they came to a frightening, abrupt end.
With a suffocated gasp, Obito's eyes flew open to darkness. Heart thundering, chest heaving, his eyes struggled to adjust to the surrounding dimness.
The air was cold and smelled of damp stone. He tried to move, only to find that his ability to do so was compromised. His arms were trapped tightly against his sides, and as he attempted in vain to jostle them loose, he realised with a sinking sensation that he could not call upon his chakra. The chains around him were preventing him from doing so, and his ankles were shackled to the cold, hard wall he was slumped back against, further restricting his mobility.
Disoriented and nauseous, he held no semblance of how much time had passed. Only the unsettling feeling that a great deal of it had somehow eluded him. But how had he come to be captured and thrown into a cell? His groggy mind, still chasing to dispel the remnants of the last nightmare that had plagued him in his fitful state of unrest, struggled to stitch together what had happened.
Slowly, the memories trickled back. His infiltration of the Underworld. The actions he had taken to cripple its king. He had been on the cusp of ascending, on the verge of obtaining the very power that would have allowed him to see Rin at last again, and then-
And then it had been stolen from him by the accursed Hecate, who had chosen to defy her function and intervene. He remembered the light that had enveloped the room as she had woven seals unknown to him. He recalled seeing the old crone collapse to the ground. Being suddenly unable himself to move. Totsuka had by some miracle been reformed before his incredulous eyes, and the last thing he recalled was the blade swivelling menacingly around in midair to face him, before it had shot forward and skewered him violently through the chest.
The pain of that savage wound was strangely gone. A quick glance down revealed that his bleeding had been stemmed. All that remained was a pulsing headache and a wretched, throbbing ache in his left eye. Obito clenched his teeth, impatient and irked at his binds. He was a shadow-dweller. Why was his vision taking so long to adjust? Why could he only make out the cell wall on his right side?
A moment later, it struck him, snatching the air oppressively from his lungs. With an alarmed jolt, he realised that it wasn't that his gaze on the left was failing to adjust. There was no vision in his left eye at all. The socket was sore and felt unnaturally hollow when he repeatedly blinked.
A prickling sense of unease crawled all over him, and his heart pounded to a sickening, distressing beat. Hollow. Like his left eye wasn't even there-
"Unpleasant, is it not?" A smooth voice reached his ears, languid and hypnotic in its tone. "To find oneself bereft of their birthright."
Obito stiffened. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, and yet it was not one he could immediately place from memory. He turned his head to the left, in the direction the voice had come from, and watched as a figure bled out from the shadows. His compromised gaze took in the curious, regal finery of the individual's clothing, travelling from their black leather boots, over the elaborate silver stitching adorning the ends of their dark cloak, continuing upwards and roaming over their tall, broad-shouldered silhouette until at last his solitary eye came to rest on a face in the dimness.
Fingers snapped together, and at their command blue firelight blazed boisterously to life, illuminating the cell from a pair of large torches affixed to the walls, revealing the mysterious individual's identity in its entirety.
Shrewd, feline eyes, framed by dark, long lashes, immediately met Obito's, and he sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the individual in staggered disbelief as recognition finally slammed into him.
It was impossible. Totsuka had either ended his life, or perhaps Obito was still locked in an even worse nightmare than any of the others he had experienced while unconscious. And yet those horrific visions all at once made terrible sense and paled in comparison to the awful reality he had awakened to find himself in. Here was the very one who was surely responsible for tormenting his mind so cruelly in sleep.
A member of the Underworld's deceased royal family. Hypnos of the Uchiha, himself.
All thoughts scattered from Obito's mind. He had never seen Hypnos without his ornate mask - a constant barrier that had always concealed the enigmatic, younger deity's full features whenever he had been in attendance at the royal court or passing through the Underworld. And yet, Obito categorically knew that it could be none other than Hypnos, even as he told himself there was no way that he could truly be looking at someone who had perished along with the rest of their clan over two thousand years prior.
But no matter how many times he blinked, the image of Sasuke's elder cousin would not shift. What made his presence even more disturbing and real was the sinister, oppressive chakra aura that roiled and crackled like a heavy, statically-charged thundercloud, brewing a devastating storm in the space between them.
Stunned into speechlessness, he watched as Hypnos prowled toward him, shadows and blue light dancing across the angled planes of his face, over the unruly strands of his wavy black hair. To Obito's astonishment, he appeared to be in perfect health, and did not appear to have aged at all. Evidently, he had his abilities back, too. What then had become of Sasuke?
"I imagine one would feel quite violated," Shisui continued casually. "Perhaps even incensed. And rightfully so, under ordinary circumstances."
Reaching Obito, he fluidly lowered himself to crouch before him, dark eyes inspecting his prisoner's face slowly, as if he possessed all the time in the world to interrogate him. As if he had every power, whilst Obito had none. His expression was almost deceptively amiable, but there was a glint of something hard-edged in those midnight irises that whispered promises of ruthlessness, of peril. His gaze was too piercing. Too knowing. Too bright. It always had been, and was one of the things Obito recalled most from the limited interactions he'd had with Shisui before the war - his unsettling ability to look at a person and read them with the same ease as one read an open book.
It was no illusion. Obito knew it, felt it in the marrow of his bones. Somehow, in defiance of every natural law, Shisui was living and breathing before him, and had somehow been restored. A most unwelcome and dangerous development. One that he knew for certain had the power to severely upset Cronus's grand plans - as well as obliterate Obito's own ambitions. Hypnos, with his dominion over the realm of sleep and dreams, as well as his unique ability to influence minds and control actions, was not to be underestimated.
Reeling from shock, he listened in silence as Hypnos continued, "Yet these circumstances are anything but ordinary. I believe you are familiar with the phrase, are you not? An eye for an eye." His lashes lowered. "Since you helped yourself so freely to my cousin's, it is only fair that I return the favour. Would you not agree?"
His lashes swept upwards again, and Obito's heart lurched to find his own Sharingan staring back at him, paired with Shisui's own. Horror and rage swept through him, and the emotions must have momentarily manifested upon his features, for a faint smirk danced upon Shisui's lips. But it was swiftly extinguished, along with the crimson eyes he recalled.
"Worry not. I assure you, I shall take good care of it," Shisui flashed a brief, blithe smile that did not reach his eyes. "But I would not get too accustomed to your present vision. The only reason I have yet to gouge out the other eye, is because I wished you to see us, first. To be witness to the ones who will take vengeance upon you. Sasuke has told us everything you have done. You have caused mischief enough, and once we are through with you, you will be returned to your Master with a mind so broken, no power on this earth can restore it."
He lifted a hand, briefly patting Obito's right cheek in a patronising manner, and it took all of Obito's restraint to deny him the satisfaction of a visible reaction.
"You will not mind, will you? Playing puppet a little longer?" Shisui's cold gaze bore into him. "You have done it so well for Madara. Surely you can indulge us."
Us. Apprehension slithered through Obito's veins, a perturbing, unfamiliar feeling. His lone eye darted across the cell. He appeared to be alone with Hypnos, and yet, it was known as surely as day followed the night that wherever Sleep went, Death was not far behind.
He squirmed, once again testing the chains wound around his torso. They held firm, and did not allow him to move his arms even an inch. He had already made the mistake of meeting Shisui's gaze. It was dangerous to allow the conversation to continue, and yet he could not think of a way to stop it.
"I would not waste my energy, if I were you," Shisui remarked. "As you can see, your ability to summon chakra has been compromised. Madara's plan to place his puppet on the throne has been foiled. We freed Sasuke from his curse using Totsuka, and the barriers he has now summoned at all entrance points to the realm mean no-one will come to your aid. The serpent tried. But we made short work of him, too."
Obito's jaw twitched. He was at a distinct advantage, but he told himself that he still held a tailed-beast. Surely, with its power, there was a way to break free from his binds. He had to remain calm. He needed only a second to summon Kamui and make his escape.
The prospect of returning to Cronus having failed in his mission was a daunting one. Obito knew for certain that the Titan would be enraged. But that paled in comparison to his own internal fury and despair at losing his opportunity to see Rin again. Distraught, he acknowledged that there was no way for him to see her spirit in the afterlife anymore. Not when Sasuke had been healed, and his kin miraculously resurrected. The throne would never crown him when more immediate members of the rightful line of succession were available.
His mind raced. He could not let Shisui catch onto any weakness. The priority was to understand his situation better, to understand just what had gone so catastrophically wrong. Only by doing that, could he think of a viable strategy.
"How is it you live?" he demanded curtly.
Shisui lifted one shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. "I suppose Zeus and his Queen possessed quite the sense of humour," he replied. "It appears the workings they taught us to bind our lives to the gourd, were capable of being reversed in the event that the seal was ever tampered with. By releasing Madara's Titan allies, you exploited some manner of loophole that allowed us to be restored to our physical forms, which had been crystal-entombed in Lethe's waters. At the cost of another life, of course. You have the noble Lady Hecate to thank for your present predicament."
Obito was silent. Troubled by the disastrous news, he made sure to school his expression into a carefully blank slate.
Shisui raised an eyebrow. "As you can imagine, we were none too thrilled to find ourselves returned to the plane of the living, and most displeased to discover the dreadful state the King was in. It meant that every protection we put in place failed. But living again does afford us the happy opportunity to tie up loose ends. And you, Obito, will be the first."
A sharp kunai appeared in his right hand. He flipped it expertly between his fingers, with the careless grace of a highly trained fighter. Obito eyed his actions warily, trying to anticipate what Hypnos might do as he hooked an index finger through the circular end of the weapon's handle and proceeded to spin it in lazy circles.
"How ironic it is that I should be the one threatening your life," Shisui mused, his gaze dropping to regard the weapon he turned in his hand. "Before the war, we watched you, Itachi and I. My cousin advised that perhaps we ought to arrange for you to have an unfortunate… accident. I stayed his hand myself, because despite your function, I believed there existed some good in you. I saw sympathy toward mortals and respect for the Olympians and their leaders."
His eyes lifted, locking onto Obito again. He released a light sigh.
"It pains me to admit defeat, but Itachi was right. Allowing you to live was indeed an oversight, a grave error on my part. For one who once possessed such an aversion to war, you appear to engage in bloodshed and murder all too readily. I have no doubt that Ares' influence has played a part in that, yet he has now been dispelled, and we both of us know that a mind cannot fully be controlled without the exploitation of some manner of weakness.
"So tell me. What is it that Madara has promised you, which makes you overlook all honour and principles you once held? What is it that makes you so willing to aid him? How has your pride allowed you to become this, a shade of what you once were, a traitor to your own kind?"
When Obito remained silent, Shisui raised his eyebrows. "You cannot be foolish enough to believe that Madara would deliver on any promise he makes? He does not bestow favours freely, and will always seek to control you. Recall you not the fate that befell the rest of our kin? He is the reason we are the only ones left. Our clan were naught but puppets, just as you have become. None of our lives ever held any manner of significance to him. We were all of us only a means to further his own greed and ambitions. He has not changed. He will never change. You are his pawn."
"Lord Cronus returned me from the brink of death. For that he has my fealty." Obito answered shortly. "I am no traitor, for he has always been my sworn King, and it is to his will that all Uchiha submit. It is you who has committed treason."
The rotating kunai in Shisui's hand paused briefly in its movements. Obito wondered what he had said that had given Hypnos pause.
"Interesting," Shisui murmured, resuming the weapon's rotation a second later. Obito met his gaze, unflinching. "So, I am to believe that you serve our unhinged ancestor out of loyalty, because he saved your life, and because it is expected of you to obey? Believe you that justifies following any instruction you are given blindly? You have no mind of your own, then? No care at all that you have been enslaved for all these centuries, that he saved your life at the expense of your freedom? You refuse to see that he murdered his own kin?"
"The clan perished fighting against the Olympians to restore glory to the Uchiha name. It was a noble cause. They perished serving their supreme King. It was their choice."
Shisui stared at him in grim disbelief, with a trace of pity, as if regarding a madman who had taken leave of his sanity. Then his eyes narrowed.
"A fine job Madara has done of indoctrinating you. You are mistaken. Our kin were never given a choice. I would know, because I am the one Madara tasked with compelling them all to cast aside their reservations and follow him without question. There were many who did not wish to partake in any war, who believed we could live in peace with the Olympians. His actions not only robbed them all of their lives, but very nearly destroyed the balance of life and death on earth."
"The world and the fate of mortals are of no concern to me," Obito dismissed.
"I see. A heart of stone without conscience, then. Because you already died long ago, I suppose?" Shisui tilted his head, eyes surveying Obito's features intently. "That is indeed what Sasuke told us you said."
"A curious claim." Another velvet-rich, deep voice wrought of the night itself spoke, and Obito's head jerked sharply up despite himself to find a second tall figure melting out of ripples of darkness, clad in a long black cloak adorned with gold.
His suspicions and fears were confirmed. That oppressive, smothering, intimidating aura, the way the temperature in the cell seemed to plummet even further - it was none other than Prince Thanatos, himself.
Heavy-lashed obsidian eyes, so astute and penetrating in their intensity that they seemed to stab straight into his soul fixed onto Obito, piercing and unnerving, as he drew to a stop behind Hypnos. Like his kin, he was also unmasked, his sculptured features as solemn, cold and distant as the cosmos themselves.
"Curious, indeed," Shisui agreed, a small smile curving upon his lips at his best friend's timely arrival. "Tell us why, cousin."
Itachi obliged. "For one who still draws breath to harbour such disconnect to life, a great calamity must have befallen them. A trauma too great to endure."
"A trauma, say you? Tell this simpleton how we know he is lying," Shisui continued, a brightness in his eyes that suggested he was thoroughly enjoying the little game he and his cousin were playing, the ruthless way they were toying with their captive at their leisure.
"Why would he pledge fealty," Itachi answered stoically, "to the very hand that denied him the demise he so wished?"
The unhurried words of Thanatos were logical, full of undeniable reason, and delivered in a captivating manner that made any listener second-guess everything they thought they knew to be real and true. It was a different kind of verbal manipulation to his cousin's, yet no less effective and devastating. Obito's heart galloped in his chest. He did not know which of the two cousins was worse, for together they were a most terrible force to be reckoned with. He had never experienced the distinct displeasure of crossing them before, but reminded himself that these were the very soldiers Cronus had selected from the ranks of his entire clan to fight at his side.
"And how do we know he wished to die?" Shisui's smirk was chilling. Predatory.
"He gifted his eye to Hephaestus," Itachi concluded.
"An eye he has since curiously restored. Which begs the question - what could have changed his mind? And what has become of Kakashi?"
Obito's heart skipped a beat. He realised, then, that he had grossly miscalculated. Shisui and Itachi were not just dangerous in their abilities of perception. They were positively lethal, circling like bloodhounds closing in on around carrion, skirting perilously close to a truth he could not allow them to discover under any circumstances.
He opened his mouth to deny it, but Hypnos was already pouncing on him, moving in for the kill.
"It is to be expected that you will resist," he stated. "Perhaps you fear Madara's retribution should you speak of what he has promised you in exchange for your assistance. But that can only mean what he has promised you must be precious, indeed…"
"It is ill-advised," Itachi cautioned. "To lie. If you will not speak freely, the truth will be prised from your mind."
"And Madara is now the least of your concerns," Shisui pointed out. "You ought to be far more afraid of what we will do to you, should you choose not to cooperate with us."
There was a pause, in which both Hypnos and Thanatos regarded Obito, allowing him a minute to make his decision: to cooperate freely - or to relinquish to them the information they were seeking through the use of force.
"Whatever he has promised you, will surely be compromised now that you have failed in your mission," Shisui added. "You are disgraced, and we all know how Madara treats those who have served their purpose. You have nothing to return back to, for once he extracts the final tailed beast, you will lose all autonomy over your own body. You will exist only as a shell for Ares to inhabit as he pleases - that is assuming that you are permitted to live at all. But if you were to be prudent, and choose to aid us instead…"
In response, Obito spat at his feet. His arms and ankles shackled, it was the only way to communicate his defiance and contempt for the pair. He held no loyalty or sympathies toward any of the other Uchiha, least of all the meddling Hypnos and Thanatos. Both princes were younger than he was and had grown up drenched in luxury behind the resplendent palace's protective walls. He had known very little of them, and had always found the enigmatic Thanatos far too reticent and quiet to the point that Obito had considered him completely unapproachable, while the more talkative Hypnos had been far too observant, sharp-tongued and quick-witted for his own good. They had been civil enough in court from what Obito recalled, and although he had never outright disliked the cousins, neither had he ever considered them to be friends of his. Had they not intervened and sided with Zeus, then perhaps Obito would not have had to spend centuries running errands for Cronus at all.
The spinning kunai immediately fell still. Hypnos glanced down at the cold stone ground with refined distaste, before smiling a small, grim smile.
"So you choose not to cooperate." He observed. "As you wish."
It was too late to look away, Obito realised in horror. He had already been caught by Shisui's Sharingan the moment it had first manifested, when he had looked into his own stolen eye, caught entirely by surprise as he had done so. It did not matter that Shisui had recalled it. All he needed was a second to trap his target, and then he could unleash his technique at his leisure. It was what made him and Itachi so deadly. They rarely needed swords, or any other manner of weapons, to achieve their desired outcomes.
But he closed his remaining eye regardless, and averted his gaze. A thoughtless, reflexive response born of a cresting panic that he struggled to keep restrained. One that was rewarded with a short, amused chuckle from Shisui.
"Look at me," Hypnos murmured.
The compelling words brushed over him like a gentle caress. Obito did not want to hear them, and yet they sank into his mind, invading his thoughts, permeating so deeply into them that they became his own, ingrained into what he believed was his own free will, and he found himself obeying.
Luminous crimson eyes pinned him in place. Stabbing, searing. The grip of Shisui's left Sharingan on his mind was immediate, pillaging. Any attempt to resist the influence slipped rapidly away, unravelling like tattered threads scattering in the wind. Obito could feel the foreign presence encroaching into the deepest layers of his subconscious, oozing into every private crevice, rendering him a mindless puppet all over again.
Except where he had learned to escape Ares, to block off his thoughts, to separate the warmonger's ideas from his own, there was no escape from Shisui, nowhere Obito could barricade himself away in his consciousness to distinguish between where his thoughts ended and Hypnos's began.
It was terrifying and unstoppable. All Obito could see was red, red, a punishing pinwheel that possessed his thoughts, holding his mind prisoner in a burning vice of unyielding iron. An awful pressure crushed down against his skull, setting his nerve-endings aflame. He could not summon any chakra to break free from the deadly technique.
"Tell us why you help him," Shisui purred. His voice was liquid silk, hypnotic, almost seductive, inviting Obito to speak his innermost secret thoughts. "Tell us what he will give you in return."
Obito, who had been biting his tongue hard enough to draw the copper of blood, felt it immediately slacken in his mouth. Then, to his horror, it began moving, articulating words he both felt an urgent need to share but did not wish to speak at all, obliging and betraying him at once. His tailed-beast offered him no protection, prevented from stirring to aid him by the chakra-depleting chains around him and whatever else Itachi had done to weaken him using Totsuka's sealing abilities.
"Lord Cronus returned me back from the brink of death," Obito's voice sounded distant and foreign to his own ears. His words were slow, as if spoken in a daze, through a thick haze. "I thought all hope was lost. But… he appeared to me. He told me there was a way. He… promised."
"What did he promise?" The question seemed to come from his mind, enticing him to continue.
"Revenge. All I needed to do was slumber until he released me, then complete the tasks required of me."
"Say on," came the velvet-rich command.
"The tasks… were to follow all orders Lord Cronus gave to me without question. To allow Ares into my mind, to decimate the Olympians and their allies. To take any life I was instructed to take. To carry the tailed-beasts and free the Titans, and then ascend the Underworld's throne. By fulfilling what was asked of me, I would be rewarded… with the Crown. I would yield the power… the power to see her again…"
The kaleidoscope of Shisui's Sharingan spun, invading Obito's mind, scouring the catacombs of his most suppressed memories. Taking from them whatever he wanted and needed, even as he asked their prisoner to verbally confirm what he was already beginning to drag out of Obito's most private recollections.
"Who is she?"
Obito's chest heaved, a part of him still trying to resist even when it was futile to do so. Resistance only caused the pressure on his mind to intensify, and yet he could not escape into unconsciousness, for Shisui commanded the ability to keep him sentient for as long as he wished. There would be no respite from the torment until Hypnos chose to release him.
He could feel his innermost thoughts unravelling, being pried loose and coaxed out by Shisui's unique abilities, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the deepest of violations from occurring, for Shisui's command over his mind was merciless. There was no way to sever it.
Large, smiling brown eyes flashed across his memory. A stabbing pain filled him.
"Rin..." The hushed name was spoken in a whisper. As if too sacred to utter aloud.
There was a long pause, in which Shisui stared intently at his prey, noting with immense interest the grimaces and twitches of Obito's features. A sure sign that the woman in question had meant a great deal to him, was cherished, even.
"And what happened to this Rin?" he pressed.
"She…" Obito responded, eye glazed, unseeing. "She perished. She was to become immortal. I entrusted her care to Kakashi, and he allowed her to perish." Rage flared within his heaving chest. "I wished to avenge her… to see her once more…"
Hypnos grimaced in disgust. He had heard and seen enough. With those final words, unconsciousness finally swooped down upon Obito, falling with the swiftness of a guillotine that shuttered out all his awareness, flinging him into the pits of restless darkness once again.
"A woman?" Shisui's Sharingan receded as he glared at Obito's slumped form, a clear trace of incredulous anger in his words. "Idiot. Incorrigible half-wit! That is what you have been promised? That is how you would justify every crime you have committed? You would see the world burn, over a woman who is already dead?"
Behind him, Itachi folded his arms across his chest, equally as unimpressed. In his estimation, there was nothing even remotely moving about Obito's motives. They were fuelled by pitiful, selfish desperation, born of a broken heart that was evidently still clinging to a long lost past, a heart in denial that refused to see reason. He could only conclude that Obito was clearly no longer of a sound mind, independent of Ares' influence, to still be clutching onto the hope of being reunited with a mortal who had perished before the war.
He contemplated how Obito might have fallen for such empty promises. Obito had been sensible enough in the past, and fully understood how the afterlife operated, as all Uchiha did, so what had led him to believe that he could truly be reunited with this woman? Although the Underworld's monarch did possess the power to send an ordinary mortal soul back to its worldly life, it was rarely ever done, only under the most exceptional of circumstances, following many careful assessments and meetings in which petitions were heard, and only ever as a reward for the highest level of selflessness, servitude, and sacrifice. In return for greatly pleasing the Crown.
But Obito had greatly displeased the remaining royal family with his selfish actions. And so his hopes were madness of the highest order. Yet Itachi reluctantly acknowledged history had proven that love had the capacity to make fools of even the soundest of minds. Had that very same emotion not played a hand in launching the Trojan war and contributed to countless other conflicts? It was known that love and loss had the ability to turn even rational individuals into raving lunatics.
It was one reason that Itachi had always been content with reserving his affections for his immediate kin alone, in many ways glad that he had been spared the trouble of paying any heed to such taxing emotions in the past. His duties as Death, Crown-Prince, and above all else, a Marked servant of The Fates with no perceived future beyond the fulfilment of his assigned task, had made it impossible for him to even think of pursuing any form of romantic love, and seeking out sentimental attachments beyond those closest to him. And as he aloofly regarded the unconscious Obito, he reaffirmed to himself that it had certainly been just as well, for he could not think of anything more treacherous and terrible than abandoning one's mind and taking leave of one's own wits and senses, of going against one's better sense of judgement and allowing oneself to become intoxicated to the point of emotional stupor.
Yes, he could not think of a more foolish waste of one's time and potential than discarding all logic and painting an imbecile of oneself, trampling over one's own dignity, self-worth, honour and very principles for the sake of securing another's affections - as Obito had clearly done. Surely, if one was required to lose oneself so absolutely in the process, that could not truly be what all the great poets named 'love'? It was nothing but the greatest of follies to relinquish all control and hand another the power to destroy oneself. Nonsensical, inexcusable - even more so if the rest of the world was permitted to perish while one chased mindlessly, destructively, after the object of their obsession.
And making a fool of himself was precisely what Obito had achieved, Itachi deduced. The woman he had cared for had already long since perished. It would have been more honourable for Obito to nobly accept his death, instead of deluding himself into false hopes of an eventual reunion, and committing atrocities in a disrespectful mockery of what he misguidedly believed to be love. It proved that he had never been the master of his own mind, to allow himself to fall to such ruin. All reason had abandoned him at the point of his lover's death.
"I know it is said that the Uchiha love deeply." Shisui was fuming. "But I did not think it meant that we also love stupidly."
Rarely, if ever, did he lose his cool, yet it was clear to Itachi that unravelling Obito's thoughts had managed to genuinely irritate him. He blinked.
As if sensing that his kin was on the verge of making some witty, sarcastic, and thoroughly unhelpful remark on the subject, Shisui quickly held up an index finger, and snapped, "Do not you dare, Itachi. I know how cynical you are over affairs of the heart, and yes, our own Sasuke has also been senseless in love, but he was foolish and young, and I had sincerely hoped that trait did not run in the extended family."
Itachi turned his eyes nonchalantly to the ceiling of the cell.
"I said naught," he intoned flatly.
Shisui snorted. "You do not need to say a word. I am already well aware of your opinions on romance. Depend upon it that if we survive this next war, I shall take great delight in placing the highest of wagers on how long it will take you to fall prey to a pretty pair of surface eyes, for you shall have no further excuses thereafter to avoid them. Save your clever words until then. Now be quiet and let me think."
Itachi surreptitiously raised a dark eyebrow. Shisui was the only one talking - venting out of frustration, he knew, something that he had only ever allowed himself to do in Itachi's company. Perhaps the only other in existence who could not stand stupidity more than Itachi did was his cousin.
One corner of Thanatos's lips twitched in faint amusement, for he was confident that he would be the victor of any future, futile bets placed upon him by his overambitious cousin if they did indeed live to see Cronus defeated. After all, the only one amongst the pair of them who had ever taken note of pretty surface eyes in the past was ironically Shisui himself - but Itachi promptly suppressed his smirk and obliged his kin's request nonetheless.
"Hold a moment." Shisui said after a brief silence. "If this woman perished before the war, that would mean you reaped her mortal soul."
"Yes," Itachi confirmed quietly behind him.
Realisation dawned over Shisui - and with it, an immediate strategy. A brilliant, cruel way to manipulate their captive, to grab Obito in a suffocating choke-hold that would make it impossible for him not to cooperate and do their bidding. For they had discovered what he wanted, what his heart yearned for more than anything else in the world, enough to forsake it. His only weakness, that he was clearly prepared to do anything to get back.
All that would be required to put the plan into motion was the relaxing of rules - and the careful, stealthy deployment of emotional manipulation, maintained within a powerful illusion. So long as the girl's soul remained confined within the Underworld, then they would be breaking no laws and at no risk of defying their own functions.
Shisui thought to himself that it was fortunate indeed that the very individual who possessed the power to effortlessly hunt down mortal souls - even in the afterlife - was standing right behind him. The same one who had always commanded the strongest illusionary prowess amongst all of the Uchiha, capable of skewing even time itself and all sense of reality within the vivid visions he painted.
Visions that could deliver sweet rapture and delight, if their master so willed it - or unspeakable horrors and unendurable torment. Visions potent enough to break minds and still heartbeats.
"To which place was her soul conveyed?" he questioned.
"The Elysian Fields." The response was immediate. Itachi remembered her.
"Is that so? A righteous soul, then, for one so damned. Ironic." Shisui looked back over his shoulder, and met his cousin's solemn gaze.
A sly, knowing smile played upon his lips.
"Cousin," he said. "No mortal soul living or dead can elude you. What say you we take a moonlit stroll in the fields?"
Itachi blinked, reading his intentions clearly. For they mirrored the designs that had formed in his own mind the moment he had heard Obito's confession.
Slowly, one corner of True Death's lips curved upward in a faint, smug smirk.
~x~
"It's useless, unh?" Deidara hoisted himself up onto the edge of the roundtable in what had formerly been Zeus's chief assembly room. "There's no way in. We tried everything, but the barriers won't budge."
"Maybe your shit bombs weren't strong enough," Hidan taunted.
"Shut your mouth, Hidan," Deidara sniped back. "I didn't see you doing much to help, other than running your mouth."
Konan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why was she not surprised that the two had spent the entire journey to the Underworld's entrance bickering?
"That's because you're always boasting about how flawless your art is, I thought I'd leave it to you to prove it. Guess all you did was prove how flawed it really is, huh?"
"Hidan," Kisame fixed him with a beady-eyed stare. "If you ran your abilities with the same speed you run your mouth, maybe you might have found another solution."
"Get bent, Shark-Breath," Hidan dismissed. "Guess you water freaks don't hear all too well, because we confirmed the Underworld's under lockdown. Why don't you use your ocean tricks to swim there?"
Kisame grinned widely at him, greatly amused. "Kakuzu. You will have to wait in line. When our leader finally gives us permission to maim him, I'll be decapitating him first."
Kakuzu growled grumpily at that.
"Go ahead, you sorry bastards," Hidan shrugged, unconcerned. "I'll just stick it right back on. What'll happen if I chop yours off, though? Huh? Maybe I'll cook you for supper."
Kisame smirked. "You would not get close enough to try."
"Be silent, all of you." Madara, who stood with his hands pressed against the cracked surface of a once resplendent stone table, scowled in displeasure, his patience worn thin. They had lost track of both Obito and Orochimaru in a short space of time - a most concerning development. The serpent had yet to send any word from the Underworld, and ought to have returned with both Sasuke and Obito in tow. Yet there was still no sign of them. Nothing except an eerie silence.
The Titan's suspicions told him that something unexpected had surely unfolded, but without any way to break into the Underworld, there was no way for them to discern just what was causing the delay in Orochimaru and Obito's return to the surface.
His thoughts sprinted. Sasuke had been compromised by the Curse. How was it possible that a barrier remained on the realm? Between them all, none of the Titans knew of any such technique that allowed the kingdom to remain locked down in the absence of its monarch.
"Perhaps your servant has betrayed you," Sasori suggested.
That idea had already started to fester in Madara's mind. It was not impossible that Obito had indeed ascended the Underworld's throne and finally obtained what he had desired all along. But that did not explain how he had been able to expel Ares from his body completely. A seal had been placed upon him that prevented him from doing precisely that. Which meant someone else must have removed Ares by force.
It was likely the same individual responsible for the delay in Orochimaru's return.
The wretched Hecate was the most likely culprit, for she had been the one to stand against Obito and Ares. But regardless of her meddling, even she, with her great powers, could not block entry into the Underworld indefinitely, nor could she restore Sasuke while fighting off both Orochimaru and Obito. It was a mystery that frustrated Madara to no end. However, he knew they could not afford to simply sit around and wait. He had waited long enough. He finally had the powerful Titans at his disposal. They were unsealed and capable of performing Edo-Tensei themselves in Orochimaru's absence. They had no choice but to move onto the next phase of their plan without Obito and Orochimaru.
He already had a plan, another devious way to infiltrate the Underworld again. But it would require them first to locate the Olympians.
He turned to Ares. "And say you that the others have now abandoned the High Council grounds?"
Pain nodded.
"So, they have gone into hiding," Madara hissed. "Like the miserable vermin they are. They believe they can keep the Nine-Tails from me, when their actions only serve to delay the inevitable."
"Perhaps Thea may shed light on their whereabouts?" Konan suggested.
"I will make her sing," Madara assured her, stepping away from the table. "Ares," he nodded at the war deity. "With me."
They were interrupted by the opening of the heavy, gilded double-doors to the chamber that parted to reveal two masked ANBU soldiers. They were supporting a heavily cloaked figure who hobbled with great difficulty between them, clearly crippled and incapable of moving unaided.
"Who's this?" Hidan quipped.
Madara stepped around the table and approached the figure. As the ANBU drew to a stop, he pulled back the individual's hood, eyes widening in surprised revulsion when he discovered them to be horribly disfigured. Pus oozed through the heavy bandages wrapped around their face and body, and they were blind in one eye, barely recognisable save for their hair, and their startling eye-colour, rendered unnatural as a result of heavy experimentation.
"Kabuto," he exhaled. "How is it you live?"
"What's that damned stench?" Hidan sniffed. "Smells like a rotting corpse. Is that you, Kakuzu?"
Everyone ignored him, with the exception of Kakuzu, who shot him a filthy look.
"Our scientists received instruction from Lord Orochimaru when he visited our facility." One of the ANBU guards informed him. "To begin work on regenerating Kabuto's form using DNA samples our Master had stored from Kabuto, combined with that of one of his own white snakes that escaped from Kabuto's burning body."
"The scientists were able to grow a new body," the other ANBU continued. "But it is not yet complete, and as the snake that escaped was badly burned, the flesh that has regenerated bears the scars of its original vessel."
"He asked to be brought here as a matter of urgency," the first ANBU soldier added. "Against our scientist's advice that he is not yet ready to leave rehabilitation. He says that he has been instructed by Lord Orochimaru to come to you."
"Lord Orochimaru, indeed," Madara sneered condescendingly. So the snake-master fancied himself a 'lord' of sorts over these useless mortals, did he? There was only one true lord of the world, and he did not share power. Madara told himself he would remind Orochimaru of his place when he next saw him.
Kabuto opened his mouth, but what came out was a broken rasp.
"What kind of freak is this?" Hidan peered at him in disgust.
"Speak, Kabuto," Madara ordered.
"L…ord… Oro…ch…imaru…" Kabuto wheezed, as if the act of speaking was a labour in itself. As if his lungs were barely capable of drawing air. "He… h…e… is…" he gasped, breathless, shaking violently.
"Heal him," Madara barked impatiently at the nearest Titan.
"Apologies, my Lord. He cannot be healed," the second ANBU pointed out. "Any ambrosia, surgery and healing ointment we have tried to administer, gives way in time to rotting flesh again. We believe it is the black flame that afflicted him. Its scars appear to be permanent. This was the only way we could restore him."
"As a useless cripple?" Hidan snorted. "What fucking good is that?"
"If you do not cease your useless prattling," Madara snapped at him, "then I will cast you out, and feed you to the Ten-Tails for sport."
Hidan scoffed. But he fell begrudgingly silent, glaring when Deidara smirked at him.
"His mind and memories remain intact, but his physical form… we will need to keep making new vessels for him." The first ANBU finished.
"What is it you wish to tell me about Orochimaru?" Madara demanded. "Speak."
But Kabuto could only manage a pitiful croak.
"Pain," Madara commanded. "Seize his mind."
Pain nodded, and lifted his hands. Closing his eyes, he focused, transferring his consciousness to Kabuto. Kisame caught his body, holding it upright to prevent Ares from falling back.
A tense silence filled the assembly room, as they waited for Pain to return to his physical shell. When at last he did, and straightened, taking his own weight back from Kisame, he turned stoically to Madara.
"He says that he cannot sense Orochimaru, that they were linked through the chakra of the serpents they shared, but that the link is now gone. They have not been able to draw his spirit back into a new vessel. It is as if his soul ceases to exist."
Kabuto began to hyperventilate, as if it was too distressing to hear the words spoken aloud, distraught that he had lost his lord and beloved mentor.
Madara stared hard at Kabuto. If he could no longer sense Orochimaru, or draw his spirit back into his own serpent, then that meant he was either dead - or had somehow been incapacitated by a powerful seal that prevented his consciousness from awakening.
He stilled. There was only one such blade capable of sealing consciousness itself away. Ares had confirmed that it had indeed been Totsuka that had been used to seal the Titans, that it had taken the shape of a gourd to contain them, but how that legendary sword had even fallen into his enemy's hands to begin with escaped Madara.
If Totsuka had been cast into Tartarus to prevent the Titans from escaping, only to then shatter after they had been forcibly freed from its prison, then there was no way to reform it again. Ares had confirmed that the gourd, the final form Totsuka had taken, had broken into many fragments.
It had been tied to its Master's life-force. And Madara had realised far too late on the summit that Itachi had been the one who'd commanded the elusive blade all along.
But his heir-apparent had been deceased for millennia. The only way for Totsuka to be reformed was if its Master returned to life, something that was not possible given that Itachi and Shisui had terminated their lives to foil him. What, then, had been used to disable Orochimaru? Or was it that he was dead? That made no sense to Madara, either. If Sasuke had been trapped in stone as Ares had claimed, Orochimaru could have hidden himself away in the fallen king's body in the event he encountered any unexpected danger.
An ugly, nagging suspicion began to form in Madara's mind. One he could not shake. Something had clearly gone very wrong. Hecate, he knew, was tied to The Fates themselves, and was a direct servant of theirs. What if they had chosen to bend their own rules and intervene? What if she had chosen to defy them in a last, desperate attempt to keep Obito from claiming the Underworld's throne? How else could the concerning silence from two of his faithful subjects be explained?
"Ares," he growled. "You say you saw the gourd that confined you all shattered, and that Sasuke succumbed to the Curse."
"Yes," Pain confirmed.
"Then tell me," Madara turned blazing eyes to him. "How is it that Orochimaru cannot be reached, when he entered the Underworld by inhabiting Sasuke's body? The only way to draw him out of a vessel he has afflicted with his Curse Seal, is if he himself willingly relinquishes his hold on it - or is forcibly removed by a sealing blade."
There was a long, tense pause, as the Titans considered their leader's words.
"Are you saying you think the blade that sealed us was remade and used on Orochimaru? Seems a bit far-fetched, unh?" Deidara rubbed thoughtfully at his chin.
"That is not possible," Sasori remarked. "From the tales I was told, that sword only answers to the life-force bound to it."
"Is it impossible?" Kakuzu questioned gruffly. "The cursed Fates wanted us sealed enough to hand that sword over to your descendant in the first place. Perhaps they negotiated a deal."
Hidan snorted. "They aren't you," he taunted. "You think those damned Fate bitches make deals? They make the rules. Nah. Something else must've happened. I'm telling ya, puppet boy's betrayed us. Either that, or he liked the throne enough that he's taking his sweet time coming back."
Kisame tilted his head at their leader, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "How did you not notice he had it all that time, Madara? I did not have the pleasure of fighting Thanatos on the battlefield, but he must have been exceptional indeed, to keep such a prize concealed from even you."
Madara's lips thinned in displeasure. To that he had no answer. He still did not know how the treasonous Itachi had kept his ownership of the sealing sword hidden from his eyes. He did not know whether Thanatos had wielded it all along, or whether Zeus had given it to him just before the war. He despised not knowing. But he vowed that they would use any ruse necessary to break into the Underworld and find out what had happened there.
Hidan looked at Kabuto in distaste. "Maybe we can send the Mummy down to the Underworld next, if he shares some weird bond with Orochimaru?"
"No," Madara refused, eyes narrowing at Kabuto. "We will not send anyone else from amongst us. I have a better idea."
"What's that, hmm?" Deidara asked.
"Draw his blood with your scythe," Madara ordered Hidan.
"What?" Hidan shot him a glare, caught by surprise by the abruptness of the command. "Forget it. I'm not binding myself to this walking zombie. Get Sasori to turn him into one of his creepy puppets."
In the blink of an eye, Madara stood toe-to-toe with him, his broader form towering over the pale-haired Titan.
"You will draw his blood." Coal-black eyes burned through Hidan's purple irises. "You will bind him to you and lend him chakra so that he can be of use to me. If you cannot follow the most simple of commands that further our cause, then I will replace you with another who can. Do we have an understanding, Momos?"
Hidan held his gaze defiantly - but knew better than to push his luck. Muttering a string of curses as he turned reluctantly away from Cronus, he grabbed Kabuto roughly from the ANBU guards, snapping, "Get the hell outta my way or I'll gut you first."
Madara watched him for a moment, before turning his attention back to the others.
"Konan," he instructed. "See to it these humans are returned to their research facility. Assist them in fortifying it further, if needed."
Konan bowed her head, and immediately moved to do as she was bid, paper wings extending from her back as she approached the two ANBU.
Madara then looked to Ares. It was time to find out where his enemies were hiding.
"Come," he said. "We have Olympians to hunt."
~x~
She strolled unhurriedly through the sprawling flower field, stopping every now and then to pluck the prettiest of blooms to add to the unfinished garland draped over her left arm. The balmy night air was pleasant, sweet-smelling and refreshing. It always filled her with such peace to wander through the fields long after the sun had set, for her wondrous surroundings were rendered so much more ethereal when touched by the milky, shimmering light of the moon. A moon that was always gloriously full and bright, not a single cloud in the midnight sky present to conceal its beauty or that of the playfully twinkling stars that glittered overhead like glistening jewels.
She beamed when her gaze was suddenly snagged by a particularly lovely cluster of pink peonies. Drifting over to them, she bent down to pick them. But as she did, she felt a looming shadow fall over her, and glanced up, expecting to see another happy dweller of paradise - only to freeze in surprise at the thoroughly unexpected sight that met her bewildered eyes.
A tall, masked man stood over her, his handsome silhouette illuminated against the silver moonlight shining in the sky above. Long, silky strands of his bound raven hair swayed gently in the breeze behind him, along with the ends of his richly-woven, dark cloak. Onyx jewels set in gold adorned his earlobes, his fingers, the ornate clasp that secured his hair. Every inch of him was drenched in finery, a vision of dark enchantment, of absolute refinement.
She was overcome by a most peculiar sensation as she gazed upon him. Even with half of his face concealed from her sight, even when she knew nothing about him, she could discern from the elegance and poise of his dignified stature and the regality of his clothing that the stranger had to belong to the highest circle of aristocracy, for she had never before spied anyone dressed as he was in the many millennia she had spent blissfully dwelling in the Elysian Fields.
Beneath the moonlight, he appeared otherworldly and alluring, as if forged from the night itself. Yet something about him set her pulse aflutter with inexplicable alarm. She shrank beneath the crushing weight of his heavy-lashed, skewering gaze, feeling strangely exposed before him, for he was as intimidating and imposing as he was arresting to behold.
The very air itself had grown still in his presence, charged with a heavy, oppressive static that gave surface to goose-pimples along her skin. The dangerous aura radiated from his form, roiling around him like a crackling, menacing storm of darkness. The blades of grass around her had stopped swaying, as if in reverence to his glory, as if he drew all life itself toward him.
Instinct warned her that she ought not to stare so openly, so disrespectfully, so boldly and shamelessly. That she ought to bow her head, as the heads of the colourful flowers had curiously stooped around her, but she was riveted by that magnetic gaze. And the more she stared, the more she became increasingly certain that something about him seemed vaguely familiar. As if she had encountered him someplace else, long ago, in a distant, faraway dream she could not quite recall.
She knew him. Didn't she? But who was he? She could not remember.
His piercing eyes glowed luminous scarlet behind the gilded, ornate barrier of his onyx mask. They captured hers, reeling her in like a moth to a flame, as if they held the promise of the answers to every mystery contained within the universe, burning into her with the intensity of a thousand suns. Something about them was all-knowing, all-seeing, and she found herself hopelessly entranced, powerless to resist their gravitational pull.
"Nohara Rin." His deep, richly smooth voice was a dark caress, impossible to dismiss, for it commanded her senses like witchcraft, like nothing she had ever known as it settled around her. Beguiled and confused, she blinked up at him, a frightened little lamb caught under the scrutiny of a graceful, ruthless predator, both awe-struck and frozen by fear, uncertain of how to address him, whether she could address him.
"Yes," she dared to whisper, unable to drag her eyes away from that terrible, penetrating gaze.
The masked man inclined his head, and stepped fluidly back, his movements as noiseless as shadows.
"Come," he murmured, vermilion eyes glowing in the darkness as he turned his back to her with the expectant air of one fully accustomed to being obeyed.
The word seized her mind and she felt an irresistible tug deep within her chest at his simple command. Before she even acknowledged it, she was back on her feet, unable to question him, her thoughts scattered, certain only that she needed to obey. Spellbound, she swayed after him, powerless to fight the incessant gravitational pull she felt toward his form, an irresistible allure that demanded her absolute subservience. As if he were a divine guide, one whom she felt compelled to pursue, and any attempt to try to defy or deny him would result in the dismantlement of her very soul.
Obediently she followed, the garland and flowers in her hands falling silently, limply to the grass.
~x~