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moorPart One - The Senju and the Uchiha
Part Two - The Battle [first battle]
Part Three - The Battle [continued]
Part Four - The Secret [first secret]
Part Five - The Secret [continued]
The Secret [continued]:
Several weeks later at the castle, as darkness fell, Izuna was summoned to his brother’s chambers by an unsettled Misao. With an internal sigh, Izuna made his way to Madara’s rooms, nodding reassuringly at the cowering staff he passed.
With a quick knock on his brother’s door, he entered without waiting to be acknowledged. As expected, the normally tidy, organized room was a mess of spilled papers, bedding and overturned furniture. The drapes in the corner were torn down, there were holes in the painting to the left of the sofa, and—from the dripping in the bathroom—it sounded like there was more to fix through the adjoining rooms, too.
At least he restricts himself to his rooms, thought Izuna tiredly.
Closing the door behind him, Izuna took a deep breath before crossing his arms and leaning against the door.
“It’s me,” called Izuna, looking around. “You scared Misao again.”
“He brought another one,” came Madara’s miserable voice from beside the bed.
Stepping further into the room, Izuna pulled blankets up off the floor and folded them roughly before piling them on the bed. Soon enough he found his brother, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall beside the bed, staring out the window.
“He knows your rut is imminent. He’s trying to help,” said Izuna. “You can’t reject them and then take out your frustration in a fit. Rumours will spread,” chastised Izuna gently.
“There was an omega waiting here when I got in after seeing the Registry participants,” sighed Madara, his fingers tangling in his unkempt hair. “The whole room smelled wrong. She kept coming at me. I wanted to rip my skin off, everywhere she touched me. I picked her up and put her outside, then…”
Wrinkling his nose, Izuna nodded, crouching down and sitting across from his brother so they could face each other. He could smell the faint scent of vomit from the washroom. It didn’t smell like it was still there, but it concerned him that his brother’s reaction had been so strong to the comfort omega Misao had arranged for him.
“I’ll speak to Misao,” said Izuna.
Wan and exhausted, Madara just looked at Izuna and half nodded.
“It’s the one year anniversary of that night. Misao didn’t know you’d been poisoned and forced into the rut. He probably thought it was just another one to anticipate in your normal cycle,” tried Izuna, but Madara’s expression hardened.
“I was with the women and their children all afternoon and evening, and she wasn’t there. Then he punished me further by sending that—”
Izuna interrupted Madara’s seething tirade with a sharp look.
“They deserve your respect,” said Izuna evenly. “They come at Misao’s insistence.”
With a rough huff, Madara glared at Izuna before relenting.
“I apologize,” Madara said through clenched teeth.
“When was the last time you slept?” asked Izuna. “Has Hashirama sent over any more sleeping herbs?”
“They ran out a few days ago. With the Registry visit…”
Izuna sighed at his brother’s stubbornness.
“You do this to yourself,” muttered Izuna, coming to his feet. “I’ll help you tidy up so it’s less of a shock to the servants. Get dressed.”
Turning away from Madara, Izuna began collecting the damaged items and putting them in one area of the massive room, while righting anything that had been overturned or pulled down. It was frustrating, dealing with his brother’s moodiness since the mating, and his fits were increasingly violent.Folding another sheet, Izuna’s thoughts meandered. He’d spoken to the Underground. He knew She was returning to Konoha, but there had been no word from the gates. Piling the sheet on the bed with the other blankets, Izuna wondered if they were perhaps going about their search all wrong. Instead of looking for Her or the Child, should they search instead for Tsunade herself? With a mental note to speak to Shisui and Itachi, the pair of Uchiha directly responsible for the maintenance of the Registry, Izuna righted another chair and glanced back at his brother.
Despondent and shuffling, Madara pulled a clean shirt over his head before reaching for a robe suitable to wear outdoors. His hair was still a mess.
Hiding his frown of concern, Izuna finished tidying and picked up Madara’s comb, returning to his older brother.
“Sit,” he said, ignoring his older brother’s scowl.
“I’m not a child.”
“No, you’re a king in a depressive state because you miss your mate. But you cannot behave like this.”
“It’s not normally this bad.”
“It’s been deteriorating. You’ve been getting short with the staff,” said Izuna, not letting Madara off the hook for his behaviour. “You were even enough around the babies, but when the women got too close, you tensed.”
“Only you noticed that,” said Madara as Izuna continued brushing his hair.
“Only I noticed it now. You need to balance yourself. You have too much inside you at the moment. You need a release,” said Izuna, combing away and noting the way his brother’s shoulders relaxed over time. “If you won’t take comfort omegas, what else can you do?”
“Train,” said Madara after a few seconds. “Spar.”
“Something that doesn’t involve violence,” chided Izuna, moving on to a new section of hair. “Something nurturing, comforting.”
“... have you gone mad?” asked Madara suspiciously, turning to look at Izuna over his shoulder. “You’re beginning to sound like Hashirama,” he muttered under his breath.
There was silence between them for a time as Izunan untangled his brother’s hair.
With the final knot untangled, Izuna leaned back and crossed his arms, checking for any other work to do on his brother.
There was so much, but it was better not to push for the nurturing for the time being. After the Battle, Madara had refused all medicines prepared by the castle medics. They were lucky that Hashirama was more than happy to provide them from his own stores personally most of the time. Perhaps Hashirama had some suggestions on what they could do?
“I’ll speak to Mikoto about things,” said Izuna, setting down Madara’s comb on his nightstand. “Come. We’re going to get your herbs from Hashirama. You need a decent night’s rest.”
“You’re taking too many liberties, Izuna,” said Madara dangerously, coming to himself again as he stood tall.
“I’m the only person besides our half-sister who won’t cower before you,” said Izuna. “The kingdom needs both of us at the moment.”
Izuna was silent about which two he meant, whether himself and his brother, or himself and their half-sister.
His pride returning to him, Madara narrowed his eyes at Izuna.
“I’ll help you find her, Madara. But you need to keep yourself in line,” said Izuna. “You are the symbol of Konoha’s strength and endurance. You cannot fall.”
There was a tension in the room between them then, as Izuna spoke not just for himself, but for the Kingdom.
Refusing to back down, Izuna held his head high as he spoke to the King.
“I’ll speak to Misao and Nanao. We’ll find her. But you must take care of yourself in the meantime.”
He reached for the door, his hand hesitating on the handle a moment.
“Promise me you won’t descend into this chaos again. That you’ll ask for help.”
Izuna didn’t expect an answer from his brother. An answer would mean Madara accepted responsibility for his actions, which meant accepting that he had failed and been wrong, that he needed another person to be strong.
But Izuna also didn’t miss the flicker of hurt in Madara’s fathomless, lonely eyes, either.
“Let’s see what Hashirama has for us,” said Izuna. “He won’t be asleep yet.”
“Hn,” agreed Madara softly.
***
The other Senju apprentices and staff had gone home as Sakura and Tsunade worked in the hospital storeroom late that night. The weather was damp with falling snow, and when they arrived at the Senju compound they hung up their damp coats and gloves. Sakura hung up the blanket that she had wrapped around Yu, too, near the fire.
“I thought I wouldn’t be working for the Senju anymore?” Sakura had asked Tsunade as they navigated the Underground tunnels to the Senju clan territory. Occasionally they would run into Underground guards and checkpoints, but all stood back, waving Tsunade through as she approached. Soon they did the same for Sakura, too.
“You aren’t working solely for the Senju. The Senju hire us for our expertise at times, so their regular staff don’t steal secrets,” explained Tsunade. There was a certain inflection to Tsunade’s voice that had Sakura looking up at her.
“Has that happened?”
Tsunade returned to her work, her eyes hard and sharp.
“Only once.”
That night, Hashirama had ordered a round of medications for one of his closest friends (he had not specified who, and Tsunade reminded Sakura that she was not to ask, as their job depended on them not asking questions). While Tsunade had gone to her office to work on something private, she had left Sakura in the storeroom to work alone.
“Sleeping herbs, relaxation herbs, rut inhibitor,” mumbled Sakura to herself.
With Yu napping in his sling at her chest, Sakura checked off each request on the list. She had found that she was most peaceful with him close to her. His head was kept warm by a delicately woven, soft infant hat that Tsunade had ‘happened to find’ at the market. Coincidentally, it matched Sakura’s healer robes perfectly in colour.
With Yu joining Sakura for ‘work’, it had become second nature for Sakura to work with a light bounce and sway, to soothe him. It soothed her, too, and her latent anxiety to be back in her former workplace. Then again, there was always a tug in her chest now. A dull ache had taken root in her and she had come to live with it, like a small wound that refused to heal. It was an irritation, red and swollen inside her heart, and nothing seemed to make it go away completely. So she ignored it. But the bounce and sway kept the loneliness at bay, so she did it without thought now.
“Mental clarity tonic, and…”
Her voice trailed off at the last request.
“Dream preventive,” she said quietly.
This list was clearly for someone who had lost their mate and Sakura’s heart clenched in sympathy. The pain she felt day after day, night after night, was enough to disturb her rest and natural rhythms, but at least she had Yu to pour herself into. Rut inhibitor indicated this was more than likely an alpha. Tsunade had mentioned to her that while the Kingdom had brought in more medics to treat the baby boom in the population, there were still some women and children who had not made it through their deliveries. Was this alpha one of the unlucky ones who lost their child or spouse?
Her hands slowed as she set down the paper, looking over the collection of medicines.
All that had been requested were the medicines themselves, but was there more she could do to reduce this person’s suffering?
With a quick peek around the corner to ensure that Tsunade was occupied behind her curtains and doors, Sakura pulled out a separate piece of paper. Her hand glowing with soothing chakra, she handled each medication bag and began to write.
“Rest well.”
“Drink after enjoying a hot bath.”
“Don’t feel you need to hide yourself. Take first thing in the morning and immediately before sleep for best results. Avoid caffeine, which will aggravate the effects of rut.”
“Take time for yourself in addition to this tonic. You are important.”
“Not all dreams are bad. Sometimes, dreams sustain us. Caution: Do not indulge in excess. Sleep well.”
Surreptitiously slipping each note into the bag that held each of the respective medicines, Sakura smiled sadly to herself. Hopefully this alpha wouldn’t suffer as much after this.
She was just tidying up the workspace when the door above her clattered open very suddenly, and she heard Tobirama rush down the stairs. Striding into the room, he stared at her in surprise before his face hardened and he hurried to Tsunade’s office, ignoring her doors and walking straight in.
“He’s coming,” Sakura heard him intone gravely to Tsunade.
Then Tsunade flew from the office and grabbed Sakura, hurrying her toward the Underground tunnels hidden beneath the floorboards. The trapdoor slammed open as Tobirama guarded the door into the room.
Sakura’s eyes noted the way his hand rested upon his sword.
“How much time do we have?” asked Tsunade as she looked over her shoulder at Tobirama.
“No more than a few minutes,” answered Tobirama. “Hashirama will hold him off, but…”
Tobirama looked at Sakura again, shaking his head at Tsunade.
“Did you finish?” Tsunade asked Sakura, hurriedly putting away the extra herbs that were left out.
Sakura nodded, her brows furrowed. “What’s going on?” she asked, grabbing her bag with Yu’s change of clothes and wraps. Unfortunately, the baby blanket that had been drying on a door handle nearby was missed, forgotten in the rush. It fell behind a crate as they made their way into the tunnels.
“The client is arriving ahead of schedule,” said Tsunade. “We can’t be seen. Hurry.”
With that they disappeared into the Underground, Tobirama locking the trapdoor behind them and covering it with something flat and heavy, which Sakura assumed was a rug.
Then the door above them slammed open, and a man bellowed,
“Where is she!”
Sakura ran.
***
“First I barely get you upright, now I’m chasing you,” huffed Izuna, running to catch up to Madara.
“She’s here,” said Madara, breathing deeply. His breath misted in the icy air as he ran to Hashirama’s home, beside the hospital. Just before he reached the door he paused, listening. His eyes narrowed as he looked between the two buildings before he marched straight into the hospital instead.
“Madara, we’re supposed to go to Hashirama’s—we can’t just walk into the hospital,” said Izuna as he looked at Hashirama’s home, with its lights on, waiting for their visit. “What is it?”
“She’s here,” Madara declared, focused on his new destination. “I know she’s here.”
His keen eyes flicking around them, Izuna followed his brother into the hospital. Behind them, the door opened and Hashirama’s warm voice called for them.
“Did you forget which house is mine?”
“You’re hiding her,” said Madara, his eyes wide as he walked down the main hallway before his head reeled to the side and he hurried in a particular direction. “I know she’s here.”
“Who’s here?” asked Hashirama, hurrying after them. “I would tell you if she returned to the Senju—”
“No, you wouldn’t,” said Madara. He darted down another hall, and then yanked open the door that led to the stairwell. “Everyone lies to me about her.”
Behind him, he missed the look that passed between Izuna and Hashirama, though he distantly made out the sound of them running after him. He ignored their chase, too intent on his own.
“She’s downstairs,” breathed Madara, following his instincts. For the first time in months he came alive.His robes flapped behind him as his pace turned into a flat out run.
He took the steps two, then three at a time, his hair flying behind him. Everything inside him was pumping, rushing, as he got closer and closer. He could feel her, her peace, her longing, her heartbeat. She was there. His heart beat harder in his own chest as he got closer to the door marked STOREROOM - EMPLOYEES ONLY.
Without stopping, Madara burst through the door and was suddenly awash in her scent.
She was there—she had just been there!
He tore through the main room, then the smaller storerooms, prowling madly for any sign of her. The only hint left was her scent, however, was in the main work room. He stopped by the work table.
“She was here,” said Madara, confused. Her scent was exactly in that spot. Nowhere else.
Behind him Hashirama arrived, breathing hard.
Madara’s eyes flickered crimson, too quickly to be caught by another, but inside he pulsed with raw emotion. “Where is she, Hashirama?”
“Madara, this is a storeroom. So many people pass through day by day—”
But something in Madara snapped.
Whirling on his heel, he seized Hashirama by the throat and threw him against the wall with a crash, suspending him there with his feet dangling. Talons had sprouted from his fingertips, tearing holes through his gloves and sinking into Hashirama’s skin.
“WHERE IS SHE!” roared Madara.
Smoke erupted from Madara’s gloved palms, burning Hashirama’s throat. Hashirama fought against the burning, choking hold.
“Calm yourself,” wheezed Hashirama, straining. He pulled at Madara’s fingers but couldn’t dislodge them.
“Madara, he doesn’t know!” shouted Izuna, pleading with his brother, finally catching up.
“He knows,” hissed Madara, his eyes turning from ink to blood. “And he’s going to explain.”
Izuna’s eyes widened as the demonic energy took hold of his older brother.
Looking around, Izuna wondered what could be used to snap his brother out of his possessive haze. He had no understanding of herbs or medicine.
Then, by the stone hearth where herbs dried in bundles strung across a twine line, he saw something out of place. He shoved the nearby crate out of the way and reached down, snatching up a powder blue baby blanket, still damp. He dashed back to his brother.
“Was this her?” demanded Izuna. “Was this hers?”
Desperately he shoved the blanket in Madara’s furious face.
It took a moment, but then the change happened before their eyes.
The fierceness with which Madara choked Hashirama slowly eased until he released him. Madara reached for the blanket instead, his talons taking care to handle it delicately so as not to damage it.
With Madara’s distraction Hashirama fell to the ground, his hands already healing his damaged throat.
Meanwhile, Madara’s eyes shifted from red to black and back again as he breathed deeply of the blanket, bringing it up to bury his face in it. Slowly, achingly slowly, Madara’s grip relaxed, his shoulders sagged and he callmed, taking the blanket fully from Izuna to grasp in his hands and study as if it contained the answers to all the mysteries of the world.
Or, at least, his world.
“They were here,” said Madara softly, mournfully. His rough voice was haggard, melancholy and worn. He tugged at his torn glove, removing it to finger the feather-soft material of the slightly dirty blue blanket. As he did so, his eyes finally returned to darkness and remained so. The talons retracted, too, until only his fingertips remained, clutching the blanket like a map to the greatest treasure.
“There are medicines on the table,” said Izuna gently, drawing his brother’s attention. “It looks like they’re just what we came for. Perhaps we just missed them.”
Madara made his way to the table, unable to tear his focus from the evidence in his hands.
“They’re safe,” murmured Madara, fingering the material. “They smell safe. Not scared.”
“That’s excellent,” said Izuna carefully, keeping an eye on his brother and his moods. “And now we know they’re here, and they’re safe. We’ll have everyone keep an eye out—”
“No,” said Madara immediately. He locked eyes with Izuna. “We can’t tell anyone they’re here.”
Finally he looked up from the blanket to Hashirama, who watched him with a guarded expression.
“That’s why she’s not working for you,” realized Madara aloud. “If anyone figured out I fathered her child, it would put your Clan at risk.”
Saying nothing, Hashirama stood confidently and did not deny their claims.
“She’s working for the Underground,” realized Izuna. “They’re protecting her.” He turned to Hashirama, his tone accusatory. “Tsunade is protecting her.”
“I only deal with Tsunade, so I don’t know anything about who you’re looking for,” said Hashirama diplomatically. “And it must remain that way.”
Madara breathed out harshly but didn’t disagree with him.
“The medicines are for you,” said Hashirama delicately. “I only asked that they be made, I did not specify by whose hands. But hopefully they bring you comfort.”
Madara reached down to pick up a bag in his large, scarred hand, bringing it to his face and inhaling its scent.
He made a small noise in his throat, setting it back down again.
“Will you send her a message for me?” asked Madara quietly.
Hashirama hesitated.
“It may pass through several hands,” warned Hashirama. “But I can forward along information to someone she is in contact with.”
Madara’s expression fell slightly, but he nodded. He gathered up the medicines and tucked them into a jute bag that Izuna passed him. Then, with more delicacy than he’d thought himself capable, Madara carefully folded the baby blanket and tucked it into his breast pocket, inside his jacket, close to his heart.
From his place across the room, Hashirama raised his brows at Madara, waiting for his answer.
Finally, his things packed, Madara turned back to Hashirama.
“Tell her… I’m waiting,” he said simply. Then he and Izuna left the storeroom, returning to the castle.
Hashirama waited several minutes more, ensuring he was alone, before he moved. First he tidied up the room where Izuna had overturned the crates, then he straightened the work table over which he’d been smashed into the wall. His lips turned down. He would need to arrange for the wall to be fixed. Finally, he turned to a broken, forgotten closet in the far corner of the room.
Opening the secret compartment on the side, he slid the rear of it open to reveal a hiding space.
Murderous crimson eyes glared back at him.
“Thank you for not lashing out,” said Hashirama simply.
“If Izuna hadn’t been there—” began Tobirama, hands shaking as he gripped his sword.
Hashirama nodded and sighed.
“He isn’t himself,” said Hashirama. “You’ve probably figured out why.”
Scowling viciously, Tobirama turned away and headed for the stairs.
“Tobi,” called Hashirama sternly.
His foot raised to go, Tobirama glared over his shoulder at his brother and clan head.
“See that his message reaches Tsunade,” ordered Hashirama softly.
With a grunt, Tobirama continued up the stairs.
My Achy Breaky Heart
Date: 2021-09-30 04:22 pm (UTC)I love the update and I can't wait what happens next!
Re: My Achy Breaky Heart
Date: 2021-10-07 10:55 pm (UTC)... and will continue to do so...
*please forgive me later!*