NARUTO: Madasaku - Untitled WIP (Secret Royalty AU) [Part Three]
Content Warning: Allusions to A/B/O
Part One - The Senju and the Uchiha
Part Two - The Battle [first battle]
Part Three - The Battle [continued]
The Battle [continued]:
It was several hours later when Izuna returned Madara to his room. The rut still thrummed in Madara’s veins, but Izuna was right, it had been very good to see more of his kingdom’s people that night. It had distracted him and reminded him of what they fought for when they founded Konoha.
His people had appreciated him fighting for them. They had congratulated him on working hard to maintain the peace. The underprivileged had even formed a small assembly to meet him, and spoke up about how they appreciated how he taxed them with a scale that offered leniency to the less fortunate. They also asked if they could be granted a reprieve on said taxes that year, due to the costs of rebuilding following the battle. Madara had bookmarked it to discuss with his advisors.
“Do you think setting up a childcare service for the kingdom is a good idea,” a slightly drunk Madara asked Izuna as they climbed the stairs.
Still carrying his own drink, Izuna glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye.
“What’s brought this on?”
Madara kept looking forward as he answered.
“After war, there are always more children,” remarked Madara.
Izuna, no fool, carefully swallowed another mouthful of beer before answering.
“It would help those who sought work. Especially the women,” mused Izuna.
“Economic gain,” said Madara. “And education could be provided, which would allow us to control some of the history and messages that were relayed to the populace.”
Still eyeing his brother, Izuna nodded.
“You’re thinking of the future, then?”
“Ah,” said Madara. “My future.”
Izuna nearly tripped on the next step.
“I will speak to the advisors tomorrow. As you said, it is time to set down my own roots and show I trust in our kingdom’s success,” said Madara. “Perhaps it will encourage others, too. Children are important to the kingdom.”
Overcome, Izuna swallowed, struggling to keep his emotions from his expression.
Madara looked at him, his brows furrowed and eyes tired and very knowing.
Immediately Izuna pretended everything was fine.
For that, Madara hn’d at him darkly, leaving it be.
They separated as they reached the tapestry, with Izuna turning towards his own wing.
“I’m proud of you,” burst out Izuna as Madara pulled the tapestry aside to make his way to his rooms.
Surprised, Madara waited, watching Izuna.
“I knew you would do the right thing, on your own time,” added Izuna. “And I will be an excellent uncle.”
After a slight pause under his brother’s suspicious gaze, Izuna added, somewhat awkwardly, “I already commissioned their first set of training weapons.”
Madara nearly rolled his eyes at Izuna’s absolute glow of excitement.
“Go to bed,” muttered Madara, disappearing through the tapestry so Izuna couldn’t see the heat that warmed the back of his neck.
Pretending he didn’t hear Izuna mumbling to himself about being a good uncle and a good example, Madara continued on to his rooms. It was only a few minutes later that Madara stopped in his tracks, his keen hearing picking up on the sounds of distress from the room next to his.
His instincts prompted him nearer, even as hi
s mouth went dry.
Madara approached slowly, opening the Senju’s door. As he entered her room, her scent washed over him, a mix of desperate need, anguished loneliness, and unsatisfied lust. It hit him head on, knocking him back a step. She felt abandoned.
An omega in his care felt abandoned by him.
He should have stopped there, turned around and gone to find Izuna, or called for a medic for her. As he leaned against the nearest door frame for support however, he looked inside her bedchamber and found her wrapped up in a nest of blankets, pillows and comforters. Her hair was a mess, her eyes as red-rimmed and sunken as his had been when Izuna had forced his way in earlier.
Her small voice, yesterday so strong, now so relieved, reached his ears.
“You’re finally here. Help me, please!”
She reached for him.
Her open palm had Madara swallowing.
Madara’s internal conflict rose to a crescendo of confused thoughts at the trust in her gesture. He’d told Izuna he had plans for the future, but had never provided a timeline. Was this a test of his word?
Of his will?
Of his duty?
It was his duty to provide safety for his kingdom.
It was his duty to care for those in need.
Was it his duty also to soothe the determined little omega in her heat? While he struggled so poorly with his own rut, refusing to acknowledge it? Refusing to address it properly with an actual mate, rather than temporarily enduring it with the voluntary comforters who always sought the one thing he refused to bestow upon them?
Could he control himself with this omega who had proven herself so worthy to him, of him?
Was this how he would prove that he was worthy of her?
Could he offer this young woman something, a way to return the favour, for what she had done for all of them? Offer her a boon no other could ask of him? Could he offer her a protection that none would ever be able to revoke from her, ever again?
“Are you rejecting me?” she sobbed, catching his gaze with her innocent emerald green one.
Swallowing down the fact that he had yet to ask her name, Madara bent over and took her hand in his. Then cupped her face in his palm, lifting it up.
Inside, his stomach shook and clenched as the fire in his veins took root in him as he held her gaze. Deep down low, where the dark things grew in him, their touch set off a thick throb that began a pulsing countdown.
Izuna’s words came back to him in a messy storm, confusing Madara as his instinct to soothe and protect this young woman rose to the fore. His fingers rose higher to stroke her hair down her cheek.
Her sigh of relief was almost moist against his palm, joined by the pebbling of her skin under his fingertips as goosebumps rose at his most delicate touch.
It made his alpha smug with pride, eager, greedy.
Their fingers knotted together as she pulled him down further, pleading with him.
“I know you can make me feel better,” she pleaded, her lips grazing his as his eyes closed. “I promise I will help you, too. You’re struggling. Let me help you. Tell me what you want so I can soothe you,” she begged, pulling him down over her.
His legs settled on either side of hers and he pulled the blanket up around them before pressing his body down against hers as they both wanted. They sighed as they fit together.
The instinct in him guided his lips so they ghosted over her throat, at the junction where her neck met her shoulder. The delicate skin over her sensitive gland fluttered as he closed the distance a little at a time, licking it softly once, twice-ignoring her mewl of protest-until he sealed his lips to it with a butterfly kiss.
Her grateful gasp soothed the beast inside him for a little while.
“I’ll make you mine,” whispered Madara into her skin.
“Please,” she begged, tightening her grip in his shirt. Her legs rose higher around his to cradle their secrets against each other.
***
Several days later, just as the sun rose, Sakura stumbled from the room, bleary eyed and confused. The last few days were a blur. Everything since the battle was a blur. She had arrived at the castle to deliver something to Prince Izuna, but then…
Sakura looked down as she realized she was shivering in the hallway. Her clothes were torn. The skin of her arms was mottled, appearing bruised, but there was no soreness, but rather, sensitivity. The tender ache at the top of her thighs, as well as the raw, oversensitive soreness of her breasts, had her panicking. She reached for her throat, but her hand came back empty, her skin stinging. Her leather tong was gone. By accident her fingers traced the gland at her throat, and immediately a sound of want escaped her and loneliness enveloped her. Her hands were trembling.
Her eyes widened as she touched her uncovered, knotted, messy hair. Her wrap was missing completely.
Worst of all, she couldn’t remember anything.
Trying her best to hold herself together, Sakura tripped down the stone hallway, propping herself up against the wall as lightheadedness overtook her. She needed to find somewhere safe. She needed to talk to Tsunade.
A familiar tapestry beckoned to Sakura. Lifting it, she saw the staircase that led down, at least to the servants’ entrance on the ground floor. On autopilot she descended the stairs, careful not to topple as her balance shifted beneath her. Everything felt different.
Her body felt different and that difference terrified her.
As soon as she hit the ground, she took off running for the hospital, ignoring the calls of the guards behind her. She didn’t look back.
***
The moment the messenger announced Sakura’s arrival, Tsunade abandoned Kakashi and Jiraiya in her office. Her robes flew behind her like wings as she stormed to the hospital entrance, her heels clacking a staccato tattoo against the floors. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to deliver the firing of the century on her idiot apprentice for disobeying orders and endangering herself out on the battlefield, and hang what the Crown Prince had said about her bravery in battle-
-until she met Sakura’s hollow, red-rimmed eyes; saw the emptiness and questions therein; saw the bruises down her arms and the red line across her bruised neck.
Tsunade’s words caught in her throat, understanding dawning fast.
“Shisho, I’m sorry I’m late,” whispered Sakura. She stared at her mentor, unable to form more words.
With a sick feeling in her heart, Tsunade bullied Sakura into her office, kicking out Kakashi and Jiraiya.
***
When Madara returned from ordering a mammoth breakfast for himself and his guest, he hummed a short tune to himself from his childhood. It wasn’t much, just a small song, but his heart was light and his steps were lighter.
Izuna had been right; he had followed his advice and, together, he and his Senju had bonded during their sequester together. He had learned every one of her favourite foods, every single song she adored, memorized especially each erogenous place on her body, to practice time and time again.
And she had…
He closed his eyes, a faint smile breaking through his lips.
She had cradled him, comforted him, listened to him, praised him, reminded him of what was so important in life: connection.
He had never felt closer to another individual in his life. It was like they had been communicating without words at times, so deeply in tune and in each other’s heads.
Perhaps it was too early, but when he’d offered her his seed, she had embraced him so warmly and kissed him so deeply that he had forgone the contraceptive potions as she begged him to let her provide for him in every way she was meant to.
There had been something spiritual in how they had moved in each other. The way she had taken him, all of him, inside her and held him close, it made him want her all over again.
As Madara knocked and entered her room once more, he wondered if she would be up for joining him as he checked the palace… gardens… again…
The nest was gone. In its place lay a skewed pile of blankets, half on, half off the bed. His (previous) clothes remained on the floor, but he found no sign of hers, other than her headwrap, there, sticking out from beneath the pile of blankets. Her shoes were gone.
Around him, everything turned to fog while his ears chimed at a high-range pitch. Behind him, Madara just made out Izuna’s familiar steps as he knocked and entered the room.
“Finally woke up? Are you and our guest ready for some break…”
Izuna’s words trailed off, as had Madara’s thoughts.
“She’s gone,” said Izuna, stunned.
The high pitched noise continued, and Madara felt light-headed. He wasn’t going to faint, was he?
Behind Madara, Izuna hurried away, calling for guards and servants. Something about searching the Senju compound, and closing the village gates, and searching the castle.
But none of that really reached or bothered Madara.
He reached down, pulling up the hair wrap that he had pulled loose when she had settled in his arms to cuddle. He brought it to his face and inhaled, closing his eyes. It was almost like she was there again.
“Misao,” he called evenly from the doorway.
Ever attentive, Misao appeared immediately.
“Seal away this room. No one comes in or out,” said Madara.
“Yes, Sire.”
Madara nodded and left the room, not looking back.
***
That evening, Izuna’s blade was parried by Tobirama’s as they faced off at the Senju compound.
“Where are they?” demanded Izuna.
“I told you, Tsunade takes sabbaticals. She left a day or so after the battle, when the majority of the critically injured were stabilized. Her apprentice… was lost in battle,” said Hashirama sadly. His entire countenance fell, his tone going monotone, as if he’d lost his own daughter and still couldn’t believe it. “Tsunade took it very hard. She always returns in spring, but this has been a significant blow.”
But not everyone believed it.
“She wasn’t lost in the battle, she was at the castle,” argued Izuna, stepping further into Hashirama and Tobirama’s personal space. “We have guards who saw her leave and head towards the hospital this morning!”
“They’re wrong,” said Tobirama calmly.
Listening to the growing fight, Madara noted the pinched way Hashirama and Tobirama’s shoulders were held, and the extreme self-control they exhibited. Normally they would have been fighting back, countering their arguments, redirecting their attention elsewhere (one of Hashirama’s specialties, to defuse tense situations).
They weren’t offended by the Uchiha barging into their home.
They were offended by something the Uchiha had done to one of their own. Madara couldn’t figure out why, unless...
They knew, realized Madara.
“-If you don’t get out of the way and permit our search for these missing persons to continue,” yelled Izuna from beside Madara, “I’m going to-”
Tragic understanding rolled over Madara. He lifted a hand and rested it gently on Izuna’s shoulder.
“Come,” said Madara softly, turning away from the Senju.
It was only when they were back inside Madara’s rooms that he explained his suspicions to Izuna.
“They think I took her by force. Then abandoned her,” said Madara evenly.
“You went to get breakfast!” countered Izuna, exploding all over again.
Madara nodded once. “But she didn’t know that. If it was her first heat, and she woke alone and confused…”
Izuna fell silent, his heart breaking for his brother.
“You need to tell Hashirama what happened,” insisted Izuna a few minutes later as they lapsed into a longer and longer silence.
“In time,” agreed Madara tiredly. He looked at the floor, his focus hazy.
“She’ll come back,” promised Izuna. “And you can explain.”
“Hn,” said Madara distantly.
“I swear I’ll find her for you,” said Izuna.
Madara stood and walked to his personal chambers.
“I’ll bring her back, I promise,” called Izuna, standing. He rested a hand on the back of his chair.
He thought Madara wouldn’t reply initially, until he heard him say,
“If she left, there’s no need to.”
TBC
Part One - The Senju and the Uchiha
Part Two - The Battle [first battle]
Part Three - The Battle [continued]
The Battle [continued]:
It was several hours later when Izuna returned Madara to his room. The rut still thrummed in Madara’s veins, but Izuna was right, it had been very good to see more of his kingdom’s people that night. It had distracted him and reminded him of what they fought for when they founded Konoha.
His people had appreciated him fighting for them. They had congratulated him on working hard to maintain the peace. The underprivileged had even formed a small assembly to meet him, and spoke up about how they appreciated how he taxed them with a scale that offered leniency to the less fortunate. They also asked if they could be granted a reprieve on said taxes that year, due to the costs of rebuilding following the battle. Madara had bookmarked it to discuss with his advisors.
“Do you think setting up a childcare service for the kingdom is a good idea,” a slightly drunk Madara asked Izuna as they climbed the stairs.
Still carrying his own drink, Izuna glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye.
“What’s brought this on?”
Madara kept looking forward as he answered.
“After war, there are always more children,” remarked Madara.
Izuna, no fool, carefully swallowed another mouthful of beer before answering.
“It would help those who sought work. Especially the women,” mused Izuna.
“Economic gain,” said Madara. “And education could be provided, which would allow us to control some of the history and messages that were relayed to the populace.”
Still eyeing his brother, Izuna nodded.
“You’re thinking of the future, then?”
“Ah,” said Madara. “My future.”
Izuna nearly tripped on the next step.
“I will speak to the advisors tomorrow. As you said, it is time to set down my own roots and show I trust in our kingdom’s success,” said Madara. “Perhaps it will encourage others, too. Children are important to the kingdom.”
Overcome, Izuna swallowed, struggling to keep his emotions from his expression.
Madara looked at him, his brows furrowed and eyes tired and very knowing.
Immediately Izuna pretended everything was fine.
For that, Madara hn’d at him darkly, leaving it be.
They separated as they reached the tapestry, with Izuna turning towards his own wing.
“I’m proud of you,” burst out Izuna as Madara pulled the tapestry aside to make his way to his rooms.
Surprised, Madara waited, watching Izuna.
“I knew you would do the right thing, on your own time,” added Izuna. “And I will be an excellent uncle.”
After a slight pause under his brother’s suspicious gaze, Izuna added, somewhat awkwardly, “I already commissioned their first set of training weapons.”
Madara nearly rolled his eyes at Izuna’s absolute glow of excitement.
“Go to bed,” muttered Madara, disappearing through the tapestry so Izuna couldn’t see the heat that warmed the back of his neck.
Pretending he didn’t hear Izuna mumbling to himself about being a good uncle and a good example, Madara continued on to his rooms. It was only a few minutes later that Madara stopped in his tracks, his keen hearing picking up on the sounds of distress from the room next to his.
His instincts prompted him nearer, even as hi
s mouth went dry.
Madara approached slowly, opening the Senju’s door. As he entered her room, her scent washed over him, a mix of desperate need, anguished loneliness, and unsatisfied lust. It hit him head on, knocking him back a step. She felt abandoned.
An omega in his care felt abandoned by him.
He should have stopped there, turned around and gone to find Izuna, or called for a medic for her. As he leaned against the nearest door frame for support however, he looked inside her bedchamber and found her wrapped up in a nest of blankets, pillows and comforters. Her hair was a mess, her eyes as red-rimmed and sunken as his had been when Izuna had forced his way in earlier.
Her small voice, yesterday so strong, now so relieved, reached his ears.
“You’re finally here. Help me, please!”
She reached for him.
Her open palm had Madara swallowing.
Madara’s internal conflict rose to a crescendo of confused thoughts at the trust in her gesture. He’d told Izuna he had plans for the future, but had never provided a timeline. Was this a test of his word?
Of his will?
Of his duty?
It was his duty to provide safety for his kingdom.
It was his duty to care for those in need.
Was it his duty also to soothe the determined little omega in her heat? While he struggled so poorly with his own rut, refusing to acknowledge it? Refusing to address it properly with an actual mate, rather than temporarily enduring it with the voluntary comforters who always sought the one thing he refused to bestow upon them?
Could he control himself with this omega who had proven herself so worthy to him, of him?
Was this how he would prove that he was worthy of her?
Could he offer this young woman something, a way to return the favour, for what she had done for all of them? Offer her a boon no other could ask of him? Could he offer her a protection that none would ever be able to revoke from her, ever again?
“Are you rejecting me?” she sobbed, catching his gaze with her innocent emerald green one.
Swallowing down the fact that he had yet to ask her name, Madara bent over and took her hand in his. Then cupped her face in his palm, lifting it up.
Inside, his stomach shook and clenched as the fire in his veins took root in him as he held her gaze. Deep down low, where the dark things grew in him, their touch set off a thick throb that began a pulsing countdown.
Izuna’s words came back to him in a messy storm, confusing Madara as his instinct to soothe and protect this young woman rose to the fore. His fingers rose higher to stroke her hair down her cheek.
Her sigh of relief was almost moist against his palm, joined by the pebbling of her skin under his fingertips as goosebumps rose at his most delicate touch.
It made his alpha smug with pride, eager, greedy.
Their fingers knotted together as she pulled him down further, pleading with him.
“I know you can make me feel better,” she pleaded, her lips grazing his as his eyes closed. “I promise I will help you, too. You’re struggling. Let me help you. Tell me what you want so I can soothe you,” she begged, pulling him down over her.
His legs settled on either side of hers and he pulled the blanket up around them before pressing his body down against hers as they both wanted. They sighed as they fit together.
The instinct in him guided his lips so they ghosted over her throat, at the junction where her neck met her shoulder. The delicate skin over her sensitive gland fluttered as he closed the distance a little at a time, licking it softly once, twice-ignoring her mewl of protest-until he sealed his lips to it with a butterfly kiss.
Her grateful gasp soothed the beast inside him for a little while.
“I’ll make you mine,” whispered Madara into her skin.
“Please,” she begged, tightening her grip in his shirt. Her legs rose higher around his to cradle their secrets against each other.
***
Several days later, just as the sun rose, Sakura stumbled from the room, bleary eyed and confused. The last few days were a blur. Everything since the battle was a blur. She had arrived at the castle to deliver something to Prince Izuna, but then…
Sakura looked down as she realized she was shivering in the hallway. Her clothes were torn. The skin of her arms was mottled, appearing bruised, but there was no soreness, but rather, sensitivity. The tender ache at the top of her thighs, as well as the raw, oversensitive soreness of her breasts, had her panicking. She reached for her throat, but her hand came back empty, her skin stinging. Her leather tong was gone. By accident her fingers traced the gland at her throat, and immediately a sound of want escaped her and loneliness enveloped her. Her hands were trembling.
Her eyes widened as she touched her uncovered, knotted, messy hair. Her wrap was missing completely.
Worst of all, she couldn’t remember anything.
Trying her best to hold herself together, Sakura tripped down the stone hallway, propping herself up against the wall as lightheadedness overtook her. She needed to find somewhere safe. She needed to talk to Tsunade.
A familiar tapestry beckoned to Sakura. Lifting it, she saw the staircase that led down, at least to the servants’ entrance on the ground floor. On autopilot she descended the stairs, careful not to topple as her balance shifted beneath her. Everything felt different.
Her body felt different and that difference terrified her.
As soon as she hit the ground, she took off running for the hospital, ignoring the calls of the guards behind her. She didn’t look back.
***
The moment the messenger announced Sakura’s arrival, Tsunade abandoned Kakashi and Jiraiya in her office. Her robes flew behind her like wings as she stormed to the hospital entrance, her heels clacking a staccato tattoo against the floors. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to deliver the firing of the century on her idiot apprentice for disobeying orders and endangering herself out on the battlefield, and hang what the Crown Prince had said about her bravery in battle-
-until she met Sakura’s hollow, red-rimmed eyes; saw the emptiness and questions therein; saw the bruises down her arms and the red line across her bruised neck.
Tsunade’s words caught in her throat, understanding dawning fast.
“Shisho, I’m sorry I’m late,” whispered Sakura. She stared at her mentor, unable to form more words.
With a sick feeling in her heart, Tsunade bullied Sakura into her office, kicking out Kakashi and Jiraiya.
***
When Madara returned from ordering a mammoth breakfast for himself and his guest, he hummed a short tune to himself from his childhood. It wasn’t much, just a small song, but his heart was light and his steps were lighter.
Izuna had been right; he had followed his advice and, together, he and his Senju had bonded during their sequester together. He had learned every one of her favourite foods, every single song she adored, memorized especially each erogenous place on her body, to practice time and time again.
And she had…
He closed his eyes, a faint smile breaking through his lips.
She had cradled him, comforted him, listened to him, praised him, reminded him of what was so important in life: connection.
He had never felt closer to another individual in his life. It was like they had been communicating without words at times, so deeply in tune and in each other’s heads.
Perhaps it was too early, but when he’d offered her his seed, she had embraced him so warmly and kissed him so deeply that he had forgone the contraceptive potions as she begged him to let her provide for him in every way she was meant to.
There had been something spiritual in how they had moved in each other. The way she had taken him, all of him, inside her and held him close, it made him want her all over again.
As Madara knocked and entered her room once more, he wondered if she would be up for joining him as he checked the palace… gardens… again…
The nest was gone. In its place lay a skewed pile of blankets, half on, half off the bed. His (previous) clothes remained on the floor, but he found no sign of hers, other than her headwrap, there, sticking out from beneath the pile of blankets. Her shoes were gone.
Around him, everything turned to fog while his ears chimed at a high-range pitch. Behind him, Madara just made out Izuna’s familiar steps as he knocked and entered the room.
“Finally woke up? Are you and our guest ready for some break…”
Izuna’s words trailed off, as had Madara’s thoughts.
“She’s gone,” said Izuna, stunned.
The high pitched noise continued, and Madara felt light-headed. He wasn’t going to faint, was he?
Behind Madara, Izuna hurried away, calling for guards and servants. Something about searching the Senju compound, and closing the village gates, and searching the castle.
But none of that really reached or bothered Madara.
He reached down, pulling up the hair wrap that he had pulled loose when she had settled in his arms to cuddle. He brought it to his face and inhaled, closing his eyes. It was almost like she was there again.
“Misao,” he called evenly from the doorway.
Ever attentive, Misao appeared immediately.
“Seal away this room. No one comes in or out,” said Madara.
“Yes, Sire.”
Madara nodded and left the room, not looking back.
***
That evening, Izuna’s blade was parried by Tobirama’s as they faced off at the Senju compound.
“Where are they?” demanded Izuna.
“I told you, Tsunade takes sabbaticals. She left a day or so after the battle, when the majority of the critically injured were stabilized. Her apprentice… was lost in battle,” said Hashirama sadly. His entire countenance fell, his tone going monotone, as if he’d lost his own daughter and still couldn’t believe it. “Tsunade took it very hard. She always returns in spring, but this has been a significant blow.”
But not everyone believed it.
“She wasn’t lost in the battle, she was at the castle,” argued Izuna, stepping further into Hashirama and Tobirama’s personal space. “We have guards who saw her leave and head towards the hospital this morning!”
“They’re wrong,” said Tobirama calmly.
Listening to the growing fight, Madara noted the pinched way Hashirama and Tobirama’s shoulders were held, and the extreme self-control they exhibited. Normally they would have been fighting back, countering their arguments, redirecting their attention elsewhere (one of Hashirama’s specialties, to defuse tense situations).
They weren’t offended by the Uchiha barging into their home.
They were offended by something the Uchiha had done to one of their own. Madara couldn’t figure out why, unless...
They knew, realized Madara.
“-If you don’t get out of the way and permit our search for these missing persons to continue,” yelled Izuna from beside Madara, “I’m going to-”
Tragic understanding rolled over Madara. He lifted a hand and rested it gently on Izuna’s shoulder.
“Come,” said Madara softly, turning away from the Senju.
It was only when they were back inside Madara’s rooms that he explained his suspicions to Izuna.
“They think I took her by force. Then abandoned her,” said Madara evenly.
“You went to get breakfast!” countered Izuna, exploding all over again.
Madara nodded once. “But she didn’t know that. If it was her first heat, and she woke alone and confused…”
Izuna fell silent, his heart breaking for his brother.
“You need to tell Hashirama what happened,” insisted Izuna a few minutes later as they lapsed into a longer and longer silence.
“In time,” agreed Madara tiredly. He looked at the floor, his focus hazy.
“She’ll come back,” promised Izuna. “And you can explain.”
“Hn,” said Madara distantly.
“I swear I’ll find her for you,” said Izuna.
Madara stood and walked to his personal chambers.
“I’ll bring her back, I promise,” called Izuna, standing. He rested a hand on the back of his chair.
He thought Madara wouldn’t reply initially, until he heard him say,
“If she left, there’s no need to.”
TBC