You're not a monster nor a savior

Chapter 3

Madara Uchiha was a man forged on the battlefield, a warrior to his core. His life had been defined by combat, and he reveled in the thrill of battle, the challenge of pitting his skills against formidable adversaries. He knew his strengths, and he made no apologies for his high standards.

As the rising sun cast dappled light upon the outpost standing before them, Madara couldn't help but feel a profound sense of disappointment. The structure that lay ahead was a far cry from the level of challenge and intrigue he had come to expect in his life. It was a stark contrast to the mighty foes he had faced and the complexities of the ninja world he had known.

The outpost, framed in the gentle glow of morning, was a stark reminder of the different reality they now inhabited. Its simplicity and lack of any notable challenge or adversary left Madara yearning for more. It was a world where the rules and expectations had shifted, and the warrior in him hungered for a more engaging, thrilling existence.

Despite the disappointment that welled within him, Madara remained resolute. He was ready for whatever this new world would throw at him, no matter how different it might be from the life he had once known. And, with the dappled sunlight as his witness, he steeled himself for the journey ahead, knowing that the thrill of the unknown could be just as intoxicating as the battles of his past.

"This is not a village." He bluntly said.

Maria elbowed him, bright eyes flashing. "Shh! Not so loud!"

Why say otherwise? He was telling the truth. A village was filled with shinobi, with life and luster. This? This was not a village. The Hidden Leaf complicated as his feelings toward it were easily put this so-called village to shame. To even call it such would have been generous indeed; surrounded by a spiked wooden palisade, this "village" housed little more than a series of crude, dilapidated shacks leaning against one another. Rounded in a quaint circle on a hill, they led to a single larger housing near the hill, the sole sign of grandeur in what was already a poor place.

No village, this. He said as much. This? "This is a slum."

His companion groaned into a palm. "Be nice!"

Madara blinked. "I am being nice."

"Are you?!" Yelled Maria.

"It's still standing, isn't it?" Questioned Madara.

Maria flashed him a black look, promising harsh words if he took it any further. When he didn't she flung up her arms and stalked down the hill, hollering as she went.

"You're some kind of ass, you know that!" Grumble Maria.

He wasn't trying to be. Still, he held his tongue until they reached the gate. It really was too easy to prod her. When was the last time someone had spoken to him thus? He couldn't recall. Hashirama she was not, but she had spirit. How novel. He could bend her over his knee with ease, and she still had the spirit to talk back.

Hmm. Perhaps he'd keep her after all.

The guard at the gate, a portly man who looked to have more years about him than sense, took one look at them and rolled his eyes. His eyes lingered on Maria's weapons a tad too long for Madara's liking. For a moment, he wondered if the man would demand a bribe. One look at him had the poor sod thinking twice.

The guard raised an eyebrow as he regarded Madara and Maria, his pen scribbling something down onto a clipboard. "Hunters, eh? Not often we get your kind way out here."

Madara, ever the proud shinobi, couldn't resist correcting the guard's assumption. "Hunter? I am a Shinobi, no mere Hu-"

Maria quickly intervened, elbowing Madara to keep him in line. "Hunters! Right! That. We certainly are!"