Forgotten Uchiha

十四

S E C R E T S   O F   S H I N I G A M I [PART 2]

      I stared down at my hands. My fingers twitched restlessly. What would've changed if I hadn't given into my jealousy? 

      "I did what I had to do for my village," I tried to mask my guilt with a laugh. 

      "You did what had to be done to win Hashirama's favour. You would never have been accepted otherwise," Madara countered. "You didn't want to fail your Hokage, you put him above yourself." 

     I shook my head, "I want answers."

      Madara leaned forward in his seat, his expression impassive. The intensity of his Sharingan matched mine; he let out a long breath and reclined again.

      Madara templed his fingers. "What would you like to know?"

      "Why did you find the need to seal me away? Both Hashirama and I knew you wouldn't die until you accomplished your dream, you somehow held on to life and still mustered the strength to seal me―you put a block on my mind so I couldn't remember what happened after the final battle between Hashirama and you, I. . .I don't understand. . ." 

       "I needed you alive, if you'd died in the following Three Great Ninja Wars, I would have nothing. I sealed you away when you turned twenty because you'd stay in your youth and didn't have the risk of age creeping in the back of your mind. I put a block on your thoughts because there was no need for you to remember what I'd done to you," Madara said simply.

      "You robbed me of choice!" I yelled. 

      "I saved you," Madara remained impassive. "If it wasn't for me, you would've died for your Hokage." 

      My eyes flicked up to Madara, my teeth flashing at him. 

      "Where was that strong woman that killed Matsumi?" Madara smirked slightly again. "Do you remember her moans of pleasure when she was with Izuna, how you could hear it from wherever you escaped to when she was near―all of that pain, that anger, that jealousy, you allowed it to consume you. Your bitch of a sister led to my brother's demise. Imagine yourself turning into her, that manipulative little―?"

      I thrust Madara into the statue of Shinigami, a few smouldering embers rained down on us as I held Madara by the throat against the cold stone. I could feel his pulse drumming against my fingertips, the heat from his skin, the intake of breath. . .

      "You're doing your best to get under my skin," there were only two centimetres between Madara and I held him. "Not under my robes." 

      Madara's gloved hand gripped my jaw so my eyes couldn't wander to Kuma who was fading out from degrees of consciousness. Only the corner of Madara's lips twitched up into a smirk as the rest of his face remained serious, he looked so young.

      His long eyelashes fluttered as he stared into my eyes, his tempting lips parted slightly.

      "Is that an invitation?" his was breathless. 

      I leaned against the foot of Madara's statue in the valley as the water trickled around me. It was sprinkling lightly with rain as I cried. I fell to my knees in the shadow of Madara's statue and sobbed. 

      It felt like every single piece of me had been torn apart and thrown into a fire. Tobirama and a few of his men had removed Madara's body and refused to release it to me for burial. 

       "I–i–if you ever find it i–i–in your heart to forgive m–m–me. . .Madara–Sama," I wailed. "I've b–b–brought this upon myself I know. . ."