You're not a monster nor a savior

Chapter 9

Madara strode through the gates of Vale, his crimson eyes scanning the city with mild disinterest. It was always the same here—bustling streets, merchants hawking their wares, and the ever-present hum of chatter. Despite its liveliness, it felt small to him, lacking the chaos and ambition he thrived on. The people of Vale were content in their routines, unaware of the upheaval he had just wrought in the wilderness. He carried himself with his usual confidence, his Gunbai slung over his back, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

The Branwen Tribe was his now. A chaotic band of outlaws molded into something more efficient, more dangerous, under his command. He didn't plan on staying with them forever—his ambitions reached far beyond the limits of the tribe—but for now, they were a useful tool.

As he approached the large, ornate doors of Beacon Academy, he sensed the familiar presence of Maria and the ever-composed Oswald waiting inside. He pushed the doors open with an air of nonchalance, his footsteps echoing through the grand hall.

"Madara!" Maria's voice rang out before she tackled him into a surprisingly firm hug. For someone her size and age, the silver-eyed woman packed an impressive amount of enthusiasm. "You reckless idiot!" she scolded, pulling back just enough to punch his shoulder.

The blow didn't faze him. He raised a brow, his lips twitching upward into the faintest hint of a smirk. "Is this how you greet someone who just secured control of a lawless band of marauders?"

Maria crossed her arms, glaring up at him. "Control? You call it control when you make yourself king of a bunch of lunatics? Do you have any idea what could've gone wrong?"

Oswald cleared his throat from behind her, his hands clasped behind his back. "I assume this means your mission was successful?"

Madara turned his attention to the headmaster, his tone clipped but respectful. "The Branwen Tribe is no longer a band of aimless bandits. They're mercenaries now, under my command." He paused, letting the words sink in. "You wanted them dealt with. I dealt with them."

Oswald studied him, his expression unreadable. "And how long do you think this...arrangement will last?"

"As long as I want it to." Madara's voice was matter-of-fact. "I don't plan to babysit them forever, but for now, they're useful. I've given them a purpose. Something better than aimless raiding."

Maria groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And you didn't think to consult anyone about this first? Or maybe not go full dictator mode?"

"I acted in the most efficient way possible." Madara's tone was sharp, almost dismissive. "If you'd prefer, I could have wiped them out entirely, but I thought it might be more...productive to give them structure."

Oswald's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "It's certainly...an unconventional approach. But I suppose results matter more than methods."

Maria threw her hands up. "You're both insane." She turned her attention back to Madara, jabbing a finger at his chest. "And you! What happens when they turn on you? Because let me tell you, a tribe like that? Loyalty isn't exactly their strong suit."

Madara's smirk widened. "Let them try."

Maria groaned again, muttering something under her breath about stubborn men and bad decisions.

Oswald, ever the diplomat, tilted his head thoughtfully. "While I may not fully condone your methods, the end result does seem to benefit Vale. A powerful group of mercenaries under someone as...capable as you is certainly preferable to unchecked chaos."

"Exactly," Madara replied, his tone smug. "Now, if you're done lecturing me, I have plans to finalize."

Maria huffed, clearly not satisfied, but she didn't push further. "Just...try not to make any more messes, alright?"

"No promises." Madara's smirk was back as he turned and strode out of the hall, leaving Maria to fume and Oswald to shake his head in quiet amusement.

As he walked away, his thoughts were already on his next move. The Branwen Tribe was only the beginning.

Scene Change

The walk back to his quarters was quiet, but Madara's mind was anything but. This new world was a strange one, full of complexities and threats he hadn't anticipated. The Grimm were a problem he could respect—mindless creatures driven by instinct, yet powerful and unrelenting. They reminded him of the tailed beasts from his own world, but without the will or cunning of something like the nine-tailed fox. He wondered, briefly, if he could manipulate them, bend their instincts to his will. It was a thought worth pursuing.

Still, the bigger challenge wasn't the Grimm—it was the people. This world thrived on a delicate balance of unity against a common threat, but he saw cracks in the foundation. The kingdoms were fractured, each pursuing their own interests under the guise of peace. It was a system ripe for exploitation. He could see a thousand ways to tear it down and rebuild it in his image, ways to establish true order.

And yet... there was a part of him that hesitated.

Madara glanced out at the city of Vale, its lights twinkling against the dark sky. He could bring order to this chaos, crush the Grimm, and reshape this world as he had once sought to do with his own. But the question lingered in his mind: did he want to? After all, what had that ambition brought him before? Betrayal. Loss. Death.

He frowned, shaking off the thought. No, this wasn't the time for doubt. He would take the lessons of his old life and apply them here. If this world wanted strength, he would show them what true strength looked like.

Madara entered his quarters and barely had time to remove his Gunbai before Maria barged in without so much as a knock.

"You could at least pretend to respect boundaries," he said dryly, not bothering to look at her as he set the weapon down.

Maria crossed her arms, her silver eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Boundaries are for people who don't intrigue me. And you, Madara Uchiha, are the most intriguing person I've ever met."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What do you want, Maria?"

"To know more about you." She stepped closer, her tone unusually soft. "You've mentioned things—your old world, your ambitions, the wars you've fought. I can't help but wonder who you were before you ended up here."

Madara's eyes snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. "You wonder too much."

Maria didn't back down. "I think you like being a mystery. But I also think you're carrying more than you let on. Don't you get tired of it?"

"Tired?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "You think you understand me?"

"I'm trying to," she admitted, her voice rising. "Because, believe it or not, I care! But you're so damn closed off, it's like talking to a wall!"

"I don't need your sympathy." Madara's glare could've frozen fire. "Nor your curiosity. My past is mine alone."

"Maybe that's your problem," Maria shot back. "You keep everyone at arm's length because you're afraid to let anyone in!"

The room fell silent, her words hanging between them like a blade poised to strike. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, in a sudden burst of frustration, Maria grabbed his collar and yanked him down.

Their lips met....

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was heated, almost combative, as though neither wanted to admit they'd initiated it. Madara's initial shock gave way to something deeper, something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, their earlier argument forgotten in the heat of the moment.

When they finally broke apart, Maria's face was flushed, her silver eyes wide. "Well," she breathed, "that's one way to shut me up."

Madara's lips twitched into the faintest of smirks. "You talk too much."

She laughed softly, resting her forehead against his. "And you're impossible."

For once, Madara didn't have a retort. Instead, he kissed her again, slower this time, letting the weight of their argument and the world outside fade away. At least for now.