Title: "Pari Passu" (2/3)
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: NC-17 (angst, yaoi, violence)
Summary[Uchiha Madara/Shodai Hokage Years of solitude, denial and mutual attraction – that's what keeps them together. They found their peace in the village of the Leaf, but the war goes on and Madara is no longer the same. Perhaps he never was. Please R&R!
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi and whoever else that is not me… Some facts from Madara's past were taken from the famous Uchiha Clan's Dark Destiny theory, but most part of the background story is mine.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the best! XDDD
Part 2
…This Is Where It Will End
Over the mountain ridges and dark forests where tree trunks glowed ghostly blue in the night, over the mossy rocks and chilly streams where the sun shone in a hot blur amidst the azure sky, on they went, farther and farther away from the bloody conflicts of the feudal lords. Over a year had passed since the day the commander had gathered his army and led the men and what women and children had wished to follow away from the grudges of the Daimyō and his dogs.
The commander had fallen; his sons endured. Some gave up and insisted they should be left behind. Some died in battle or fell victims to fatal diseases that had no chance to be cured during the march. The First drove his formation forth persistently as if afraid to give the men some rest.
And finally…
The sun trickled down Madara's pallid face, warm and generous, licking his skin like a gentle kisser. He squinted, enjoying the caressing touch of the rays. His eyes gleamed scarlet in the sunlight; his black silken mane was cut roughly just below his jawline – the result of a brutal fight just a few days ago. His cranberry-shaded armour was stained with mud and gore, the sleeves of his military kimono torn and patched up crudely.
A valley lay at his feet. The First glanced at him, smiling, and Madara felt his lips part responsively.
The valley was bathed in soft morning fog, sweet drops of dew glistening over the emerald grass.
"Here," the First whispered and when Madara nodded curtly, he repeated louder for everyone to hear: "Here shall be our village."
The men standing a few paces away whispered in querulous voices, protesting against such an unreasonable choice. A grey-headed man with a scarred face parted from the group and spoke somewhat reproachfully:
"I don't mean to be disrespectful, General-sama; however, this place is too out in the open. It is protected by a single rock on one side and is completely defenseless elsewhere. Should the enemy discover our whereabouts, we shall be an easy prey."
The First turned to regard the soldier with a small smile. Madara snorted quietly.
"By nightfall you will not recognize this place, I promise you that."
They left in silence, all but Madara. He stood beside his friend, his hands folded over his chest. The First formed the seals elegantly and breathed forcefully, "Mokuton no Jutsu!"
The ground beneath them started shaking. Crooked roots sprang forth; they grew longer and thicker. Sprouts broke through the grass; leaves came unfolded on the growing stems, burgeons leaking with juice turned into bright, luminous flowers. Soft glow pulsed around the petals.
Fruit ripened and exploded, scattering new seeds about; those seeds also sprouted, continuing the speedy circle of life. Trees consumed the open space, forming a rich beautiful forest around the unprotected valley.
Madara gazed upon this in wonder and admiration. He had no idea how far the First had gone with his magnificent jutsu. He had developed it in secret and now revealed it as the art of creating life.
The First laughed heartily, feasting his eyes upon the festival of flora. A branch crept over the ground towards his feet. He hopped onto it and held out his hand. Madara grasped it and the branch shot upwards. Together they flew high above the breathing jade ocean. The scent of newborn foliage was overwhelming. Every shade of green sparkled in the sunlight. Emerald leaves hung down in fluffy brushes; smooth silky plants spread out far and wide like roofs of ancient pagodas; clusters of buds quivered in the light breeze like party lanterns tied together with a single ribbon. Red, blue, yellow, purple, all the wondrous flowers glowed softly with their own inner light. It seemed they were blown out of coloured glass. Enchanted, Madara couldn't take his eyes off them. Strange inflorescences brought back the memory of white chrysanthemums his mother used to love; delicate dots of cherry blossom intertwined with milky white bindweed; small asters crushed down the trunks in silvery waterfalls. Everywhere, there was light. Blinded by the glory of the newbown forest, Madara closed his eyes.
He drew back and felt the branch beneath him disappear. Falling through the air, he spread his arms like wings, reveling in the newfound feeling of freedom. He could fly. If only for a moment, he knew he could.
The snakelike branch caught him in his fall. He lay back, exhaling softly, and smiled as he felt the presence of his friend by his side. It seemed that he was looking at him for the first time in his life.
The First raised his fist and whispered passionately: "Here's to the future!"
"To the future!" Madara echoed. The forest around them carried on growing till sunset. They lay on the hard, broad branch and watched its birth with dreamy eyes.
At sunset the men returned and could not believe their eyes. Even the young General's brother looked thoroughly taken aback. His chakra drained by the jutsu, the First could barely stand. He greeted his men and said:
"On the other side of this forest there lies a valley that shall be our home. I hereby name the village that is to be built there…" He paused and glanced at the dance of bright-green leaves in the wind. "The Hidden Leaf Village!"
Seasons came and went. Spring passed unnoticed into a sultry summer which then retreated for the sake of a golden autumn that soon yielded to a frosty winter. Then spring succeeded to it again, and the village kept growing; new houses shot like mushrooms on a rainy day. A temple rose down the river bend. There the young General, now known as the Founder, prayed to gods for peace and prosperity for his new home.
In summer he received the title of the governor of the Hidden Leaf Village. The people called him Hokage, the Fire Shadow. Shortly after that the Founder got married.
Autumn came, and the wall around the village was finished. The Founder stood at the tall gate looking at the wide road that led to Konohagakure and smiled.
Leaves fell in showers of ruby and gold. On the last sunny day before the rains started to pour Madara married a young maiden remotely related to the Hyuuga. His choice had come a surprise even to the First. The girl's father mistrusted Madara; however, the man was a gifted shinobi and a reliable person despite his young age and mysterious origin.
In the evening during the celebration the First came to congratulate his friend and found him by the Nakano temple far away from where the party was held.
"She's quite good-looking," Madara replied to his well-wishing. "She's modest, intelligent, and she's of a fine blood. She'll make a good spouse."
"You speak of marriage as if it's choosing a mare!" the First exclaimed, taken aback. At that, Madara only snorted coolly.
Uchiha Yukiko was a delicate girl with long black hair she preferred to wear loose and huge dark eyes. By all standards, she could have been Madara's sister.
She loved her husband dearly and never argued with him. Spiteful ill-wishers said she had no will of her own. Madara rarely spoke of his wife. At times he seemed to forget he even had one. However, he defended her honour fiercely whenever someone said anything offensive about her.
Now that he had someone else's well-being to bear in mind, Madara relinquished his half-civilized military way of life and built a fine house of stone on the outskirt of the village. A small pine-tree grove spread in the background. The setting sun would paint the shaggy tops in gold; sometimes Yukiko would sit silently beside her husband and they would watch the sunset together.
Days of peace did not last long. The Fire Country joined the war against some of its neighbours. The Daimyō called out for help, and the Hidden Leaf Village offered its service. It was still new and relatively poor, and war, after all, had always been shonobis' preferable business.
The Founder's wife was a kunoichi; she left on a mission as a member of the squad led by the Hokage's brother. The First himself remained in the village. The reports that came from the battlefield were far from pleasant. More and more indispensable ninja fell. That weakened Konoha. One day Madara rose during the conference and appealed to the council:
"Our men view protection of our home as a secondary task, a temporary job that is more troublesome than actual fighting. We send the wounded back home to take up the temporary position of guards; upon their recovery they happily go back to their primary duties. We have no isolators, no permanent court system; we keep no nominal rolls of the prisoners-of-war. We still abide by the primitive laws of military campaigns. Back then we were an army. We answered to one man, the General." With that, he glanced at the Founder who skewed up his eyes suspiciously. "He is now our Hokage. We strive to build a peaceful society, but we have no order. I suggest we separate soldiers from guards. Let the first perform their direct duties; the others must remain here to keep an eye on the village. We need our own police department unless we want the Daimyō to send his narks here. And that will happen unless we have order."
Madara left the room satisfied. The elders and the Hokage accepted his proposition. He was soon to become the head of the Konoha police department.
"Madara-kun!" Uchiha came to a halt and listened without turning his head. "Would you care to explain? I've known you for years; you do nothing without a reason. You do not expect me to believe you've made this proposition purely out of the goodness of your heart, do you?"
"Am I really that bad?" Madara smirked. The First surveyed him with a hard, inquiring gaze.
In one leap, that which a human eye could hardly register, Madara ended up close to him. His forehead pressed against the First's forehead, he bellowed in a low irritable voice:
"What are you trying to prove, Shodai? Do you not trust me? Did we not lay the first stone of this village together? What's mine is yours, remember, and what's yours is mine!" He clenched his fist around the man's sleeve and glared at him with blazing red eyes.
"It's just that I know you too well," the Founder replied in conciliation.
Madara scowled. "You don't know me at all."
He kissed him greedily, pressing his body full length against the First's. swamped by sudden piercing desire, Madara breathed heavily into his mouth, sweeping his tongue over the First's palate, and tongue, and teeth, drawing in the slightly sour taste of his saliva. He hated the man so much right now for asking meaningless questions, for arguing with him, for thinking he knew him – and moreover, for really knowing him well enough. He hated him and loved him, and hated to love him, and loved to hated him, and wanted, wanted him so much…
He drew back and the First clutched at the front of his tunic wearily and pulled him back into another searing kiss.
"I may be selfish," Madara murmured afterwards, "I may have my own reasons for everything I do. But don't try to pretend you're so different from me. You care about these people, don't you? Of course you do. But have you ever asked yourself why you care about them so much? Isn't it all a matter of proving yourself to the world? Live up to your father's expectations, set an example for your little brother… So don't tell me I'm being egoistic."
He stormed out, enraged, confused, exhausted. His eyes boiled with power and hurt like hell.
He lay in the mud surrounded by the black flame that burnt through any kind of obstacle. Dead bodies were piled around him. Blood and gore stuck to his face, rained down his hair.
As the captain of the Konoha police force Madara rarely left the village. However, too many jounins had gotten themselves killed, the useless fools they had been; the Hokage had dispatched a squad led by Madara to settle some business beyond the borders of the Fire Country.
His Sharingan prevailed. No matter what, it always did. Madara caught his breath and slowly walked out of the broken circle of fire. He looked around. The battle had been a massacre; no one had survived.
His throat dry and sore, he staggered slowly forward without having the faintest idea where he was going. A dim light flickered up ahead. After giving it a bit more thought Madara decided to head towards it. He could still feel Yukiko's cool lips on his cheek and her quiet voice as she whispered: "Please come back safe." He could see the Shodai's dark eyes as he longed to accompany him on the mission – just like good old times.
He could hear the crowing of ravens that haunted his dreams…
Madara felt weak. Even with those incredible eyes and the numerous jutsu he had worked out, he was still weak. He had always felt someone else's presence by his side, someone breathing down his neck. He knew he wouldn't stand a chance against his demons. He was a hawk with a broken wing, trying to reach the top, to rise higher than the stars…
Higher and higher he climbed along the winding path covered in whitish heather that reminded him strangely of mould. He walked up to the stone stairs carved into the rock and saw a small temple. Its rectangular form stood out darkly against the lighter background. Filled with sudden trepidation, Madara entered.
It was warm inside the temple. He clenched and unclenched his numb fingers, and lowered himself on the floor and leaned against the wall. There was no one in sight. Madara's gaze fell upon the opposite wall, and he gasped. A monstrous thing was drawn roughly over the bare rock. It resembled a fox with flaming red eyes and nine whip-like tails. It snarled predatorily, and for a moment Madara thought it would leap off the wall and attack him.
A pile of scrolls lay beneath the fresco. The temple must have been prepared for evacuation, but abandoned in haste for some reason. Intrigued, Madara crouched by the wall and unrolled the scroll on top of the pile.
"Bijuu," it read, "the horrific tailed beasts that prey on human malice and sins…"
Madara recalled having heard a legend abound these monsters once in his childhood. People avoided saying their names aloud. Once uttered, the name would attract its bearer. Usually a sign to repel the unholy was made and a change of subject followed.
Madara kept reading, casting occasional glances at the wall. The fox remained where it had been placed by the masterful hand of the painter, yet its evil eyes continued scrutinizing Madara.
"Kyuubi no Kitsune," he read after a while, "the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox is the most powerful and brutal of the Bijuu…"
Madara gripped the shuriken, feeling someone's presence in the temple. He tossed the shuriken swiftly and turned to face a quivering man pinned to the wall by the hem of his orange robe. The elderly monk eyed him in utter terror.
"You are not welcome here," he breathed. "You… you are…"
"A shinobi of the Hidden Leaf," Madara cut him off. He gathered the scrolls and made his way towards the monk who gasped in reverent indignation.
"This is a scared place! You should not defile it! And these scrolls!.."
"Consider them a war trophy," Madara said, drawing his katana. The monk compressed his thin lips courageously. Madara plunged the blade into his flesh and twisted it several times. Blood splattered over the man's robe. Groaning, he slid down on the floor. Now that it was over, Madara felt nothing but despise.
"I thank you for your hospitality," he muttered and slit the monk's throat.
He reached Konoha in several days at night. He hid the scrolls at the Nakano Temple and went home. The noise must have awakened Yukiko; she ran out to meet him and looked at him terrified for he was still covered in blood. She reached out to stroke his cheek affectionately. He took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. Then, without looking at her, he vanished into the bedroom and fell asleep at once.
"It is spring," the Nidaime said, sitting on the window-sill in his brother's office.
The streets of Konoha came alive early in the morning, trolleys rolling heavily over the dusty roads, merchants crying out with glee. The wind howled in the tree tops like a dog begging for attention. The carvers knocked their hammers on the great rock that opposed the forest of the Founder. Later in the afternoon the Second would join them to polish the rock with his powerful water jutsu.
Children played in the street. It was still too early to be in class. The First walked up to the window and smiled. Here was the future of Konoha, the new generation of shinobi.
"They are all part of me," he said quietly.
The Second grinned. A slight frown wrinkled his face as he heard the footsteps at the door. One of the chuunins stormed in, panting.
"Hokage-sama! Please come with me! It's an emergency!"
The sun spilt generous rays over the limp body that lay like a rag doll at the foot of the great rock.
"Mokuchi-sama," the chuunin murmured quietly.
The First pursed his lips. Over a year had passed peacefully before this first murder. War had poisoned his men's mind.
"He was one of the Eastern monks that came a few months back," the chuunin informed readily. "And… a caretaker at the Nakano Temple."
"Find Uchiha-san," the First ordered.
The chuunin's face darkened. "We can't, Shodai-sama."
"What do you mean?" the Second demanded irritably. "Send somebody to his place if he's not on duty."
"Yukiko-san doesn't know where he is. We've already checked the temple. It looks like there was a fight."
The Second stared at the young chuunin in shock. "What!?"
The First gritted his teeth. He released the investigation group and ordered to keep searching for Madara until he was found.
"I don't understand," the Nidaime whispered, surveying the blood-stained walls of the temple. "They were monks, not bloody savages! How could they just?.. Brother!"
The First shook his head; in denial or rather in concern, it was hard to tell. 'Madara,' he pleaded wordlessly, 'what have you done?'
He interrogated Yukiko a few hours later only to learn she didn't feel well and wasn't ready to answer most of his queries.
"You do not think it was my husband, do you?" she murmured with trembling lips. "He is incapable of killing an innocent person."
The First kept his doubts to himself. The war had stained them all with blood in the very early years. He looked at her, waiting. Perhaps she lied. Perhaps she knew. Why had the monks engaged into that atrocious bloodshed? Why had their bodies been piled up in the temple? How come Mokuchi was found so far away from the temple, obviously half-way out of the village? Suddenly the Shodai felt like giving up. Certainly Madara's disappearance had nothing to do with the murders!
Yukiko pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. She looked pale and emaciated.
"Forgive me, Hokage-sama, but I must retire. I don't feel well."
The First wished her swift recovery and left. It seemed touching how affectionately, even protectively this petite frail woman spoke about her husband who seldom even mentioned her in conversation. Candlelight flickered in the windows. Hundreds of small rainbow-coloured candles were lit. The wind swung the gate lantern about.
"Where are you?" the Shodai whispered in desperation, looking at the tearful sky. "What are you playing at?"