13: Ascending.

The drive was silent. The further we moved away from the Ame Club, the more sober and nervous I became. I was actually here. I actually sat next to Madara in his car and was taken to him. I still couldn't believe it. Only my far too frequent sideways glances over at the Uchiha, who was looking stiffly ahead, still wearing that unsightly puke stain on his shirt like a disgusting badge of my loss of control, confirmed this astounding idea. The time had come. I gave myself to him.

We reached a multi-storey building with black glass. High above us, half hidden in the starry night sky, the flourish symbol that adorned the Uchiha's tie pins shone in intense red into the darkness. I had seen this high-rise building often enough, in the news and also from time to time as a symbolic image for the clan in my father's documents. It was the headquarters of the Uchiha Corporation, which acted as a cover for the Akaiisan-kai, just as the Hyuuga Corporation did for the Gin'nome-kai. It was here where the legal businesses, which accounted for a fraction of the Uchiha clan's assets, were done. It was the lion's den. At least that's how Hiashi would see it. For me, this place meant Madara's cock. Horrified, I closed my eyes and drank the last bit from the water bottle. I was clearly not quite sane.

Fugaku steered the car into a secure underground parking lot and let Madara and I get out right in front of a double-door elevator. "Go home now, I don't need your services anymore," Madara addressed Fugaku, who nodded and drove out of sight. Madara went to a panel next to the elevator, typed in a PIN and the doors opened. "Come," he said, holding out his hand to me.

I took it, albeit hesitantly. It felt so strange to stand here next to Madara in the clean, mirrored cabin, feel his cool fingers between mine and drive up to the penthouse with him. I still didn't know if what I was doing here was really right. A certain fear, where it had been numbed by the alcohol earlier, spread in my head and I looked up to catch a cautious gaze at Madara. But I could spare myself any shyness. He stared at me in the reflection of the door, didn't seem to blink once. There we were. He with the jacket over his shoulder, a damp stain on his chest and, as always, elegant and dominant. Next to it I stood in my deliberately wrecked clothes with the reddened, black make-up eyes and a typical drinking bleach on my face. We really made a quirky couple.

But Madara apparently didn't think so. He squeezed my hand briefly and smiled before the elevator stopped and the doors opened. We got out, went to a smooth, gray double door and again he entered a code into a touch field. The lock whirred, clicked unexpectedly loudly and Madara led me into the hallway, where a small lamp automatically switched on, without letting go of me for a second. He finally did when the door closed quietly behind us and another massive clacking sound was heard. I suspected tank locking.

In the genkan I took off my worn-down Chucks, which looked completely out of place next to Madara's shiny Oxfords. In general, I looked like I didn't belong here, which strangely reflected my feelings. The penthouse was huge, costing several billions including furnishings. It could have been cold and sterile, as you knew it from movies and that would have clearly fit into the cliché that Madara embodied, but that was not the case. Right next to the entrance area was a large kitchen with a cooking island, a free-standing herb and spice rack, a kitschy, albeit empty family planner at the refrigerator door, cozy-looking bar stools in front of an elevation on the island, which had a few cacti as greenery in addition to the herbs, and a carpet runner with blue, red and white spots. The same blue was also found on the cabinet fronts and next to the induction field, on which a used pan stood, lay a wooden cutting board on which remnants of chives could still be seen. Fuck, pinch me, someone actually lived here!

I seemed to have admired the kitchen with my mouth open, because Madara took my hand again and smiled down at me from above. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Uh," I said embarrassed, suddenly feeling bad. I had put a label on Madara like everyone else. Rich clan leader with a violent past? Woosh – cold, brutal, arrogant. There was apparently more behind this façade than one might suspect at first glance. Huh, just like me. Fascinating. I realized that people were not as one-dimensional as they first appeared. An important life lesson. I covered up my anxiety with a smile. "I have to admit, I didn't expect your apartment to be like this."

"How else would you have expected it?" Madara asked in a tone as if he already knew the answer.

"You know..", I murmured and embarrassed stroked the back of his veiny hand with my index finger.

Madara sighed. "Hinata, this is something you have to get out of the habit of in my presence. I've told you before: I don't like your submissive nature. You are a strong woman, stand by yourself and your opinion. So. I repeat myself, and you know what I think of this: What is different about my apartment than you expected?"

I took a deep breath and said firmly, "I thought, according to what they say about you, that you live like a cold-hearted wanker in a glossy magazine for snobs with erection problems and a third wife."

His fingers twitched, then he laughed loudly, and this sound and sight were the best and most unusual thing I had ever seen. His laugh could have sounded diabolical, fake, like a caricature of a villain, but it was honest and inevitably infected me. Madara Uchiha and I just stood hand in hand in his warm-hearted kitchen and laughed. These were amazing times.

We calmed down at the same time and the look he gave me was so incredibly soft that my heart fluttered briefly. "Come with me, you should take a bath. I'll be honest: you stink."

Out of a hint of defiance, I cheekily stuck my tongue out at him and replied, "You're one to talk!"

With a smile, Madara leaned down to me, brushed my hair back, blew a kiss on my earlobe and whispered, "And who's to blame?"

After these words, I felt about THIS big that I didn't say anything anymore and let him guide me through the kitchen and dining area – a long mahogany table with far too many chairs – and the living room – of which I only caught a small glimpse, because my goodness, that was enormous – to a door behind which an imposing bathroom opened up. The floor and the side walls were covered with brown marble, the ceiling and the wall with the door were plastered white. One corner was occupied by a sweeping rain shower, in the other was a double sink with a wide mirror – the toilet was just a toilet, what can you expect – but the eye-catcher of this room was definitely the rear part: In front of the glass front was an above-average, free-standing bathtub. It was almost square, and now that I began to understand Madara's nature, I figuratively saw him in front of me with his black hair pinned up, a few strands coming loose from the knot, a glass of whiskey in his hand, while he took a hot bath, contemplating the sea of lights below him and playing soft jazz music in the background.

As if I had known it, suddenly music sounded – smooth jazz, the pleasant style that was played in cozy, smoky bars and lounges, not that annoying tootling that gave you ear cancer. "Too intrusive?" He looked at me questioningly with his smartphone in his hand.

I shook my head. "Perfect." I honestly didn't know whether I meant the volume or Madara, because he unbuttoned his shirt without warning and slipped it off his shoulders. And what shoulders those were. Broad and scarred. Wounds from stabs, cuts and shots. I found similar marks on his strong upper arms, tight chest, and muscular back as he turned around and threw the shirt into a fancy wicker basket next to the sink. In the glow of the warm ceiling lights, which had also switched on automatically, his muscles played with every movement and I let my eyes wander longingly over his defined, also scarred belly, which jerked up with a soft laugh. "You're staring again, Hinata. I guess I don't meet your expectations either, do I?"

Hastily, I tore myself away from Madara's trained upper body and looked into his face – and again my breath was taken away. I could have guessed it from the movements of his arms, but seeing this man really with his hair tied up robbed me of my belief in an imperfect humanity. A few, loose strands fell over his forehead and neck, just like in my short daydream. He was just.. Goddamn perfect. And never forty-three, no one could tell me that!

Madara smiled and tilted his head. "What are you thinking right now?"

It was useless to lie. However he did it, whether he could really read minds, I had to tell him the truth. And that's what I wanted. Maybe I massaged his ego and gave him a flight of fancy into spheres beyond good and evil, but I didn't care. This man simply had to know how beautiful he was. "I think you're perfect."

I didn't expect his reaction. He snorted in disbelief and asked, "Me and perfect? In which world?"

"In mine," I replied matter-of-factly, sweeping any mockery out of his face. He came slowly towards me and immediately I felt that aura that surrounded him again, and that drove me crazy like every time. He acted on me like a magnet that inevitably attracted me to him. I couldn't and didn't want to help but close my eyes, take in the approaching scent of wood and Madara and allow my body to react to it. My heart beat faster, my ears glowed, and my vagina did what my vagina always did in his presence: pulsate. I felt Madara's body heat as he stood right in front of me, putting his cool hands on my cheeks, pushing my head back a little and finally his soft lips touching mine for a brief, tender moment. "And you're perfect in my world, Hinata Hyuuga," he breathed and while gasping I certainly sucked in some of his breath. I opened my eyes a crack and saw sparkling, red irises floating right in front of me. They attracted me like fire attracts a moth in the night. And like this unfortunate animal, I was shattered in its heat.

I gave up all control over my body. Any further resistance to Madara's emanation was pointless and unwanted. I felt the urge to throw myself on my knees before him and fulfill every wish he made of me. I could see in his eyes what he was longing for right now and I submitted to him and to myself. Slowly, I unzipped my jacket, letting it slide to the floor unheeded. The first piece of cloth was followed by six more, while we couldn't take our eyes off each other. I took Madara's hands in mine, placed them on my hips and then mine on his chest, where I could feel the traces of the fights he had experienced. Following my deadly destiny, I approached the blazing flames in front of me, lost myself in them and felt Madara's lips gently pressing against mine again. His short whiskers scratched my chin. His breath stroked my skin like his fingers. Delicately, they left their mark of excitement over my stomach, my sides, my lower back. My own on his chest squeezed slightly as he hesitated. I let the tip of my tongue slide over his narrow lip opening, which widened for me. In his mouth I found his hot tongue, which came willingly towards me. We touched, and Madara plucked up the courage to move his fingers breechwards.

As they slowly made their way over my butt, I couldn't suppress a soft moan. Animated by this sound, Madara suddenly grabbed hold of it and I had to break our kiss panting. I pressed myself closer to him, his erection pushing itself next to my navel. I smiled slightly at the thought of how much Madara was aroused by our rather harmless contact before I involved him in another kiss, which Madara quickly ended again. He swallowed audibly and took a deep breath. "Hinata.. If we keep on, I'm going to have to fuck you here on the floor."

Giggling, I bit my lower lip, pressed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and answered, "That would be enough for me if that means I can finally feel you."

Under my fingers, I felt Madara's heart stumble briefly. "But that's not the way I want to feel you."

A little nervously, I moved away from him a bit. "Does that mean... you don't want to sleep with me?" At breakneck speed, my startled brain initiated my self-destruction. Every thought revolved around one main question: Did he think I was a whore?

But Madara, who obviously knew exactly what was going on inside me, said quietly, "Yes, I do. But not like this. I'm not a man who just screws mindlessly." He laughed roughly, unintentionally giving me goosebumps, which he had to notice, as his hands were still on my buttocks. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"So...", I started and pursed my lips, "then you're ... more the type for vanilla sex?"

A dark expression settled on Madara's face. "That's not what I meant. I can be, if that's what you want. You just have to ask me for it."

"I have to ask you something," I said, looking at every little movement in his youthful features. "What is it that YOU want?"

The red of Madara's eyes became bloody. He leaned next to my ear, squeezed his hands slightly, causing me to gasp again, and murmured, "I want you, Hinata, lying in my bed, screaming my name and begging me for mercy. And what do you want?"

My vagina exploded. 'YES, MASTER!', my brain screeched and wanted to get down on my knees again, but my pride kept me on my feet. It was too early for that. I sucked briefly on Madara's earlobe and whispered back, "I want to lie on your bed, scream your name, and beg you for mercy."

At these words, Madara dug his fingernails deep into my flesh and I heard how he clearly had to struggle with his composure not to immediately put our wish into action. "Hinata, you're driving me crazy.."

I opened my eyes. It had been a little more than twenty-four hours since I'd heard those exact words coming from another man's mouth. And all of a sudden, all excitement in me fizzled out. I was a fucking whore. I didn't let two days pass to throw myself directly at the next person after my first real sex. Yes, Madara exerted an unnatural affinity on me – whether intentionally or not, but that wasn't a reason to really give in to it, was it? I felt permanently horny, but did that mean that I had to lose myself in my seemingly developing sex addiction, that I had to give up on myself as a dignified person? I was worth more than that, wasn't I?

With his sixth sense, Madara naturally noticed my silent change of mood. He took his hands off me, straightened himself up again and looked at me from above with his indefinable, red eyes. "Hinata, what is wrong?"

Lie. Was. Futile. "I.." I swallowed and lowered my arms as well, so as not to send him the wrong signals. "I don't know if I can do this."

"That's okay," he replied. "I will never force you to do anything."

"No, that... isn't the problem," I quickly interjected. "I want to sleep with you, I've wanted to do that for almost two weeks. But.."

When I didn't talk any further at first, Madara asked, "But? But what?"

I sighed. "Yesterday, now that we have after midnight, the day before yesterday I.. had my first time, so to speak. And now I'm standing here with you in your apartment and.. That's just too much."

"Is it about the meetings?"

Slowly I shook my head. "No.. I mean, I don't know if I'm going to have a panic attack with you afterwards," I snorted half amused, "but it's not. That's too.. many men."

"Who says that?"

"I.. well.. Society and stuff."

"Fuck society," Madara said seriously. "If that's what you want, then sleep with as many men as you can. Don't hold back just because someone might judge you. If it calms you down, then you should know that I will never think of you as a slut, no matter how many men you have already had or will have."

Something stirred in my memory, but I couldn't really determine what it was. So I asked with a smile, "Are you only saying that now because you want to be one of them?"

Madara grinned darkly. "Of course." With that, he turned away from me and went to the bathtub, where he turned on the tap, checked the water temperature on a small display, and said, "Ninety-four degrees, is that okay?"

I smiled and nodded. "Perfect. Will you bathe with me?"

He straightened up and I didn't miss that he let his eyes wander briefly over my naked body. "If that's what you want.."

I pinched my face a little and said, "Okay, you like to educate me, so I want to do the same. Madara Uchiha, my shy peony, do you wish to bathe with me?"

A growing grin stole onto his face, which turned into a short, deep laugh. "Hinata Hyuuga, my exotic buttercup, yes, I wish to bathe with you."

My face turned to stone. "What..?"

Madara became serious again and asked, "So YOU don't want me to bathe with you?"

"No, yes.. yes, I want that. But.. what did you call me?"

"My exotic buttercup."

"Why?"

"Am I not allowed to do that?"

"Madara, please.. Why did you call me that?"

"I don't want to give you the impression that I'm possessive—"

"No, I mean the flower."

He took a deep breath. "You started with it, I just followed you."

"But why buttercup? Why exactly that one?"

"What's your point?" he asked evasively, but also quite sternly.

I stared at him. Was he just pretending? My own sixth sense tickled my nose and I knew that he was hiding something from me. So this is what he had to feel like that all the time. For some reason, he had made the connection between me and buttercups. Genma had already done this at the beginning of the week and to be honest, two coincidences were one too many for me. Madara hadn't heard Genma call me that, so it wasn't an allusion to it. But how did he come up with this name of all things..? I could just ask him directly if he was King. But what if he was not? I would be putting myself in need of an explanation. And if he was, I practically forced him to reveal his identity to me, even though he had asked for time. And I loved him, so I wanted to give it to him. So if Madara really was King and wanted to reveal himself to me today in the course of the night, I wouldn't push him. I had to be patient and until then I could just get to know the man in front of me better, whether he was King or not. Because Madara Uchiha, with everything I knew and suspected about him so far, was a highly interesting person, apart from a possible secret online identity. And who knows, maybe I fell in love with him too and then in the end it didn't matter if he was King or not.

"Hinata?" Madara asked, taking me out of my thoughts. I smiled. "I'm sorry. I only remembered something."

"Would you like to share this with me?"

I denied wordlessly, came to him and looked up. "Let's just take a bath."

Madara managed a smile, but it didn't transfer to his eyes. He didn't delve deeper into the topic, probably didn't want to pressure me to tell him about my thoughts, and I was more than grateful to him for that. It would have ended unpleasantly for both of us, I knew that. In order to completely stifle his curiosity, I set about freeing him from his pants. His searing gaze rested on my fingers as I unbuckled his belt, slowly pushed the button through the hole, and pulled the zipper down. I had already seen that his erection had subsided again, but when I stripped him off both layers of fabric with a perhaps somewhat greedy jerk, I couldn't hide my disillusionment. Due to a last residual hardness, his penis protruded towards me, but it didn't really cover much distance. It was just as long as a thumb – mine, not his, that would have been okay – and the glans was hidden in a protective coat of foreskin. After all, he was shaved, but the smooth, pale skin did not comfort me over the twee mini-snail, which failed miserably to look imposing at all.

Madara laughed harshly. "You look disappointed."

Apologizing, I tried a polite grin, but couldn't look him in the eye. "Um, no, well.. Yes..", I pressed out and in order not to hurt him, I hastily added, "B-but you can do something with it, so.."

"Hinata," Madara said in a tone where I couldn't have pinned his emotion, "touch it."

I was reluctant to do so. Not because it was small, but simply because I wasn't used to touching penises. Yesterday with Kakashi it had been strange, but then it had happened in the heat of the moment. Today, with more light and less arousal, everything was different. Nevertheless, I followed Madara's request, put my flat hand on the soft shaft and rubbed it carefully. Madara breathed deeper, and it wasn't long before I felt something under my fingers. The erectile tissues in the penis were supplied with blood and did their work. And what hard-working erectile tissues they were! They deserved a medal. They turned the limp tiny sausage, of which at most an Oompa Loompa would have been jealous, into a rock-hard rod that protruded from my fingertips to a small birthmark on the inside of my forearm, and lured the pale pink glans out of its tent. If I had to guess, and I inevitably did because of my sheer enthusiasm, it now managed a length of at least seven inches. My mouth fell open and as I ran my fingers over the stiff, veiny, straight shaft so timidly and deeply awed, I didn't even notice that Madara had started to stroke my upper arms and shoulders tenderly. "This is called a blood penis. Most men have that. Never judge anything based on first impressions," Madara said quietly and finally I looked up. His cock in my hand and the blazing fire in his eyes were enough for lightning to flash through my vagina, catapulting me into the air, pressing my lips on Madara's, and drowning my hands into his hair at the nape of his neck.

Madara didn't seem surprised. Violently returning my stormy kiss, he held my thighs tightly and moved. As his horny spider monkey, I didn't care what he did or where he took me, as long as our arousals continued to touch. I crossed my legs behind him, pressing my pelvis closer to his and moaning softly into his mouth. He wasn't even inside me and I could have cum already. This man was really...

Suddenly, I squealed softly as I dived butt first into warm water. It was a mystery to me how Madara had managed to keep me up, not to give my lips a second of rest and at the same time to take off his pants, boxer shorts and socks without the help of his hands. He seemed to be a true natural talent when he did all this so effortlessly. He let me sink to the bottom of the bathtub and detached himself from me for the first time. His breath was more like a longing gasp, heating me from above just as the water did from below.

I opened my eyes. He knelt in front of me, had leaned on the edge with one arm behind me, his other showed a clear flex of muscles because he was busy pumping his cock. The look he gave me sent ice-cold shivers of lust down my spine, which would have lowered the water temperature if we hadn't been so hot for each other. As if in an instinctive automatism, the fingers of my left hand slid to my stiff nipple and those of my right between my legs. The water was clear and Madara could see everything. I spread my legs and labia and rubbed my middle finger in circular motions over my clitoris, at the same time I pressed and twisted my nipple, played around it and massaged my femininity. As I did so, I kept looking into Madara's hungry eyes, which switched back and forth between my hands and my face. When our eyes met, waves of satisfaction broke loose in me and it didn't take me long to cum, even by my standards. In my center the heat that Madara and I exerted on each other accumulated, my body cramped, my now three fingers on the clit became faster, my knees lifted out of the water and finally, when I painfully smashed the back of my head against the edge of the bathtub, a loud, drawn-out moan escaped my throat and my vagina like the rest of my body caught fire, the tension in my abdomen was released and I let my orgasm out with a desperate-sounding "Ma-da-raaaa..."

The rushing blood in my ears muffled any further sound, but I could clearly hear Madara panting softly, "Hinata.. Look at me.."

Only with the utmost effort did I lift my eyelids, direct my trembling irises to this devilish angelic face above me, and did not know what I thought I recognized in his features. There was a darkness in his eyes that aroused me far too much. Involuntarily, I pushed my weak legs even further apart and pressed my breasts together with my upper arms.

A jolt went through Madara's body. He slid closer to me in the water, pushed himself off the edge of the tub at the same time, grabbed my jaw roughly with that hand and dug his fingers into my cheeks. I let out a wheezing moan and a tear ran from the corner of my eye, which Madara either didn't notice or didn't heed. It was better that way, because I didn't want him to draw the wrong conclusions. It hurt how he treated me, but it made me horny. Fuck, it made me so infinitely horny..

As if out of nowhere, hot, sticky liquid suddenly splashed onto my forehead. I immediately closed my eyes and flinched away, but I couldn't escape Madara's grip. He moaned softly, ejaculated in two or three spurts on my face, his own fingers, into my slightly opened mouth. Based on his choppy but slower breaths, and because no more cum hit me, I knew that he was done and therefore dared to carefully open my eyes again. Madara stroked his cock incessantly and a few drops still spilled out of the tip, spread through his movements on the hard shaft or dried up in the water. Gradually he loosened his hand and caressed my head almost apologetically.

I sat up, sucked on the glans with a vulgar sound, looking up at him from below, absorbed much more of his juice than just the few splashes on my teeth. It tasted sweeter than Kakashi's, but was a bit coarser. Madara's look showed obvious greed. I curled my lips around his cock into a smile. Then I let the tip of my tongue slide through the slit, from which tiny amounts of cum continued to seep, finally bit my lower lip, took a deep breath and dove to the side into the knee-high, wonderfully hot water, where I carefully rubbed my face and front hair to remove the semen, and came back up snorting.

Madara had sat down on his feet, still breathing heavily and smiling at me. "Come over here, I'll clean you up."

It was a weird feeling to squat in that huge bathtub and be washed by Madara fucking Uchiha. Somehow it had something familiar and at the same time something very sexual. Silently, he foamed my hair with wonderfully fragrant shampoo, massaged my scalp with his fingertips and, when he rinsed out the soap with the shower, displayed an unexpected tenderness that surprised me a little on the one hand, and calmed me immensely on the other. I couldn't deny it anymore: Aside from my superficial devotion to this multi-layered man, I just felt comfortable in his presence. He gave me a sense of security that I had never felt in anyone else before. I knew, without questioning it deeply, that he cared for me and wanted me to be well.

"You have beautiful hair," he broke the silence after minutes of audible splashing water, and let my wet, blue-black ends slip through his fingers.

I sighed deeply. If he hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have mind it, but the sound of his deep voice comforted me quite well. "My father spares no expense in making sure I look good."

I only became aware of what I had said and what meaning was behind it when Madara paused, let my hair flutter on my bare back and pressed a long, heavy kiss on the crown of my head, which inevitably rammed his thoughts into my brain. There it was again: the one thing that so few knew about, and I had forgotten to my shame that Madara was a part of it. Actually, I didn't want to go into this topic any further, because I didn't want to spoil the mood, but I saw the opportunity to clarify something that was subliminally burdening me with him. I slid around on my buttocks to look Madara in the eye, put my hands on my knees sticking out of the water, and blinked at him. His look told me that he sensed what was on the tip of my tongue, and he lowered it. "Hinata.. We don't have to talk about it."

"But I want to," I said firmly, taking a deep breath. "I just want to ask you one question." I waited for him to look up again and continued as he did, "When you arranged the meeting with him, did you know what to expect? Well.. WHO was expecting you?"

His jaw tensed. And then, very slowly, he nodded. "Nobody really talks about it because those who are personally affected take refuge in insinuations, but there are rumors about Hiashi Hyuuga. Rumors that say he is selling the body of his own daughter. My business with him was completely detached from that. I wanted to create a foundation to build on, the success of this meeting had nothing to do with you. That day I would have slept with you if you had wanted to, but I knew from the start that this was wrong. Your father is ignoring your sexual integrity by prostituting you for years. In my eyes, that doesn't make him any better than Isshiki Ootsutsuki."

I flinched noticeably at this name. Of course, Madara didn't miss this and he clasped my shoulders tightly with his big, no longer quite so cool hands. "Hinata, I have to ask you something and I demand the truth: Do you resist?"

Genma's crooked grin appeared in my head. His warm gaze, his twitching toothpick, our conversations – his message. For the first time I thought again that he didn't want to meet me anymore, and a painful sting went through me in the navel area. At first after reading his words, I had only thought about how sad it was not to be able to see him again. Only now did I realize what this meant for my situation. A partner of his wanted to stand in for him, but I had deliberately turned to Genma because I trusted him. Any other cop, no matter how capable and cordial and whatever he may be, could not replace Genma. For me, this meant that I would not allow any more meetings with the police. And so I wouldn't provide them with any further information. And whether what Genma had heard from me was enough for Hiashi's lifelong imprisonment was more than questionable in retrospect. It had been so stupid to do this in the first place. I should have just hung up again back then, then I would have spared myself the emotional nudity towards a stranger – because yeah, Genma was a stranger to me, even if I thought he was hot. He was just a cop investigating my father, nothing more. With his withdrawal, he had sealed my decision. I indicated a shake of my head. "No, not anymore. I tried to protect Hanabi, but.."

"But what?", Madara probed and he seemed anything but amused. "What, Hinata? What prevents you from doing so? I told you that I would destroy your father. You would be collateral damage that I would like to avoid."

"How?"

I didn't need to elaborate on my question, he knew what I meant. His eyes darkened, lost every little warmth from before. "That is not important."

"For me, it is. Will you kill him?"

Madara tilted his head and let his gaze rest on me incessantly, but he didn't reply. Instead, he stood up so that the water beaded over his athletic body, held out his hand to me and said, "Come."

I hesitated. His pale palm, shimmering in the light of the ceiling lamps, was more than an invitation to leave the tub. I could stay seated or knock it out and get up myself. I could decide to forget everything, return home and carry on as if nothing else had happened. Or I showed courage and took it. The decision was not difficult for me. As we stood side by side, my hand in his, I noticed again how much taller he was. He towered over me by a whole head, but the distance didn't affect the kiss with which we sealed this tacit promise. Slowly we broke away from each other and we looked deep into each other's eyes. Madara's fingers wedged with mine. A slight smile played around his lips.