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wing-ed-thing · 10 months

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Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part V

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: @norasincubi Warning for dark themes ahead, including forced marriage, violence, and assault. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

Notes: It’s miraculously here.

“What’s going on here, Madara?”

He sat at your low chabudai, arms crossed as he refused to meet your eye. An incomplete variation of his armor adorned his shoulders, the thick leather ties of his pauldrons crossing over his broad chest and tied under his arms. Even in your home, Madara couldn’t quite leave the battlefield. Tajima sat next to him, legs crossed and face unreadable.

“Please sit.” Your mother ushered you to an open cushion. You settled down next to your father directly across from Madara. Your longtime friend held his closed-off posture, eyes closed as if he were above the interaction.

“We have been in negotiations with Tajima and Madara—” Madara’s eyes opened lazily at the mention of his name. Then, your heart dropped. —“And we believe that Madara will be a most suitable husband for you.”

You couldn’t help the wideness of your eyes as you stared into his dark pupils in horror. The room had gone still. And for a few moments, it was just you and Madara. Your parents' voices grew muffled as you searched for answers in Madara’s unyielding gaze. How long had he known about this? Tajima mirrored Madara’s crossed arms with a nod.

“Yes, your compatibility is undeniable. We are confident that the two of you will bear the strongest of Uchiha children.”

The rest of the conversation passed you by.

You weren’t ready to marry.

***

The door shut behind you, leaving you and Madara outside on the engawa. Your fingers lingered on the closed entrance behind you. Madara stood next to you, silently watching you out of his peripheral. Your heart fluttered as you caught bits and pieces of the finalized negotiation inside.

The arrangements in the past were different from this. You had never been without a say, and all of the other suitors had been bumbling at best. But now that you considered it all you supposed that Madara was a high-value bachelor few families would pass up.

“We are honored that the pride of the Uchiha has expressed such interest in our girl,” your mother’s muffled voice said through the door. “Madara has grown into quite a warrior. You must be so proud, Tajima.”

Fireflies lit up the garden.

Outside and eavesdropping, it felt like you and Madara were kids again. You remembered when you stood outside the meeting hall together, you on his shoulders as you tried to listen to what the adults were saying. You had been friends for so long. The decision to ask your parents for your hand in marriage shook up all the thoughts in your head like a mighty gale. You didn’t want to know what the adults were saying now.

You let out a shaky breath; the thought of making even the slightest eye contact with Madara made you sick. It took effort to muster up the will, but you found the strength to tear yourself away. As you paced toward the forest, you slipped on your shoes, fetching your foraging basket. Madara followed through the garden after you.

“Stop!” he commanded, but you ignored him and pressed on. He called your name. “Stop! Come back here!” You felt his hand grip your sleeve. You reacted viscerally, pivoting instantly to tear yourself away from his grip.

He stopped in his tracks. Madara had seen many horrific things in his life. He had seen all kinds of violence possible simply by fighting on behalf of the Uchiha. Your outburst hadn’t halted him, nor had your blatant defiance of his booming orders. But the tears that welled in your eyes…

“You do not lay your hand on me, Madara!” The rawness of your voice grated on your throat. An invisible spray of spit flew from your lips. The first stream of tears had already begun to run down your face—only two, one from each eye.

He watched you. He watched your face in confusion, not understanding why your it had begun to crease and contort as pathetically as it did.

“I thought you would be pleased,” he said, almost in an accusation. Madara turned, running his fingers over the lower part of his face with jerky movements. “I do not understand.” He glanced at your house and the shadows of your parents through the paper door. His hands gestured curtly through barely restrained anger. Madara had always been severe in everything he did. “I do not understand. I thought you would be pleased.”

You stood frozen and wide-eyed. You looked past him, over his shoulder at nothing. The tears reached the end of your face, hanging off your jaw.

“That is why you have been talking to my father, I suppose?” Your voice was as small as you felt. You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand. “For how long?”

“I do not understand—”

“How long, Madara?” you snapped. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. A few birds fluttered away, their wings beating as the branches shook.

The silence hung in the air, palpable. Madara observed you as silently and stoically as he usually did. His hands fell to his sides.

“I approached him a sennight ago while you were out foraging.” You didn’t look at him, pivoting on your heel away from him as you hid your face in your hands. He followed you unconsciously, circling around you. “I know that is where you would be. You always labor yourself.”

You could see out of the corner of your eye how desperately Madara wanted you to look at him. But you knew if you faced him head-on, you would be at a loss for words. It was all too much. It had all been too sudden.

“I do not understand.” His voice cracked. Madara took a step closer. “You will never want for anything! I am the strongest warrior in our village. Izuna is the second strongest. You will never have to worry about fighting.” He took another step as you sunk in on yourself. “All I wish is to provide you with a peaceful life and home. You will never have to labor the way you have ever again!”

You mustered up the courage to stare at his chin and nothing more. The more you willed yourself not to cry, the deeper the burning sensation behind your eyes became. By the time you lifted your head, he was towering above you. Hulking and wide as he was, even without his full armor, Madara cast a colossal shadow over you. His hands hovered around your shoulders as if he deliberated on touching you.

“What about… what about the apothecary?” you croaked, all of the Uchiha customs ingrained into your head as a child flashing across your mind. “What will happen to the apothecary when you own my life?” His hands settled firmly on your shoulders, giving you a shake.

“I am certain Makihara will appreciate your donation of herbs every now and then.” Tears pooled up in your eyes, spilling over again. The corners of Madara’s lips twitched upward, causing a strain in his cheeks. “I will provide you with a garden where you can grow all the herbs you have ever dreamed of! You will have a new purpose.”

“What?” You shook your head, dazed by Madara’s raving illustration of your future together. “Makihara… He has grown so old. Who will make the medicine if I do not?” You gripped Madara’s wrists, but he wouldn’t pull off of you.

“The village has an apothecary—” Madara grabbed onto the fabric of your sleeves. You tried to pull away.

—“I have been the village apothecary for—”

—“It is not safe for you there! The last raid on the village—”

Your foraging basket fell to the ground.

The crazed look in his eye struck fear into your heart. You flailed, pushing him hard as you stumbled back. You readjusted the loose sleeve that had fallen off your shoulder. The two of you stood at odds, just a few steps on separation in between. You huffed, catching your breath from the panic that coursed through you as Madara observed you with predatory eyes.

“Why did you arrange this, Madara?” you pleaded, holding the sides of your robes close and closed over your chest. “Why me? Out of all the girls in the village falling over themselves for your hand, why did you choose to take me? You know what will happen, so why?” And your teary eyes met Madara's for the first time that night. You hiccuped, voice shaky and uneven. “We were friends…?”

“How do you still not understand?” he roared, and as he stormed toward you, you were fearful. You didn’t have a moment to think about escaping before he had you again. Madara plucked your wrists up, holding them punishingly tight.

“Madara! You are hurting me—”

“It has been you! It has always been you! I have loved you always! How can you not comprehend that I only wish to keep you safe? To give you the world at your feet!”

You flinched, crying as you braced yourself against his storming fury.

“You frighten me, Madara!” you cried. “Please do not do this! It is not too late to take it back! Please take it back! You can say that your mind has been changed!” The right side breast of your robes had stained dark with wetness from your face.

Madara lowered himself until his eyes were level with yours. You quivered, still flinched in on yourself. He held your tense arms in his large hands. Madara spoke your name.

“Look at me.”

“No, please, Madara, do not—”

“Look at me!”

His shouting and the tight grip he had on you made you yelp. You opened your eyes hesitantly, almost squinting as you stood with your feet barely on the ground. You were met with the red, swirling pattern of Madara’s sharingan. That had been enough. Whatever Madara hoped to read in the depths of your soul had been there.

He threw you down. You landed on the grass below, patches of dirt staining your knees.

“There is someone else,” he said curtly, expression unreadable. The red of his irises swirled back into black. Panic set in. You forgot how to breathe as you tried to scramble to your feet.

“No! There is not!”

Madara stopped you as you reached your knees, once again lowering himself. His wrists rested at the sharp bend of his legs.

“Who is it? Who is it that keeps your heart from me?” If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he had spoken to you with softness. You must’ve looked dreadful as snot and tears ran down your face. He took a silk tie from his hair, letting his mass of black strands fall past his shoulders as he swept your ruffled hair from your messy face. You stammered as he tied your hair back. “Will you not be truthful with me?”

“It is no one, Madara.”

The absence of a response did nothing to quell your worries. Madara didn’t speak a word. He rose with his usual scowl. He left you on the ground, speaking over you.

“No matter,” he finally said. “I will kill him by my own hand. You will see. I promise. I will provide for you.”

He left.

***

You shambled off into the forest not too long after.

You didn’t know where else to go.

You had gone to the grotto where you regularly met Tobirama. It wasn’t your regular meeting time, but a small part of you still hoped he would miraculously be there. Instead, you were met with emptiness and darkness.

You dragged yourself out to the edge of the riverbank. The water washed past you as you sat. The coolness of the water quelled the heat beneath your skin. You ran a hand through the herbs that grew among the gravel. Tiny sprouts grew from where you last cut them.

The wetness turned the bottom of your robes dark and heavy. The moisture traveled up to your hips as you sat, staring at the land on the other side of the river. You curled in on yourself, wondering if running was possible.

Perhaps this was what you were waiting for, something to jumpstart your ambition. You could live with Tobirama. He could accept you with the Senju, and no one would have to know where you were from. Perhaps the Senju were more open-minded. You had seen their women on the battlefield before. You could study medicine and continue your work as an apothecary. Tobirama had always encouraged you.

No one needed to know.

You laid back in the shallow water. The river lapped at the back of your ear, soaking your hair and the rest of your robes as you watched the stars. The night had turned dark. The chirp of nocturnal bugs echoed around you to the steady rhythm of the rushing water.

***

You awoke the next morning with water flooding your nose. You gasped, startled and choking out water as you surveyed your surroundings. Your sinuses burned from the river water as you wiped the wetness from your face. The memories of the night before came back to you all at once. The sun rose to your right, casting a warm glow across your face as you looked again back across the river at Senju territory.

You didn’t dare cross.

Instead, you waded into the water to scrub yourself down in the river, the sensation of Madara’s touch lingering.

*** You waited for Tobirama all day, thinking to yourself as you foraged a nice bundle of herbs between naps. You kept an eye on the bank across the river. Tobirama didn’t come until the evening. He looked a little worse for wear, tired. His already wild hair looked more tousled than it usually did. White bandages adorned his left arm.

You nearly jumped on him when he made it across to you. You’re sure you hit an injury, a bruise, or two from the slight flinch you felt as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Even so, Tobirama let you wrap yourself around him, holding you close as you clung to him.

“Things have been so horrible,” you sobbed lightly into his shoulder. He supported you, holding you close as you cried into him. Tobirama laid a soft kiss on your hair.

“Tell me everything.”

But you couldn’t. You cried harder and he let you. Tobirama scooped up your weeping form, and carried you to the bank to sit. The two of you were out in the open, but your vulnerability was the last thing on your mind. He said nothing as he brushed light touches over your hands and held you until another night came.

You stared at the folds in his robes in the darkness, running your hands up and down his forearm. You could feel how strong he was. Despite the short time you had been seeing each other, he had grown.

You found yourself comparing him to Madara. You could picture Madara’s hulking form as clearly as the night in front of you. You knew this armor well, the curve of his weaponry, and the broadness of his shoulders. It all made you wonder how much time you would have if you asked Tobirama to elope with you instead. You ran your touch over his palm. The skin there was soft, unlike the calloused hand of Madara who trained day and night to slaughter Senju. You decided quickly that Tobirama did not stand a chance should you incur Madara’s wrath.

“I—” It felt like you had never stopped crying. —“I do not think I am able to see you for a while.”

You felt Tobirama perk up in the dimness. He craned his head, shifting you gently in his arms to look at your face. You cast your gaze downward and he did not force you to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean by this?” he asked, concern lacing his words. You remained silent. He waited patiently for you to respond. You leaned back into him, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

“Things in my village are… turbulent. Because of the war.”

You didn’t remember what Tobirama said.

He didn’t fight you on the decision. Part of you had expected he’d propose that you come join him with the Senju and you were relieved that he hadn’t. Tobirama considered it, but decided that the raids on the Senju would likely be an even more dangerous place for you.

You said something about finding him again. Tobirama didn’t remember what you said.

He comforted and kissed you, telling you between each one that he would be waiting and would give anything to keep you safe. The words rang hollow as the memory of Madara haunted your mind. Your back lowered gently to the ground as Tobirama continued to hover over you, showering your face with deep kisses and reassurance.

You told yourself that you would find a way.

***

Tobirama woke the next morning to the rising sun. He picked himself off the rocky gravel, a few small pebbles sticking to his skin as he rose onto his elbow. He stretched his shoulders, hearing an audible crack. Tobirama looked down at your sleeping form, a hand already on your bicep to shake you awake. The two of you had never fallen asleep before.

He spoke your name, shaking you. Tobirama recoiled his hand for a moment to shield his eyes. He observed the placement of the sun in the sky, trying to calculate the time. But when he turned back to you, something caught his eye.

Laying out on the stone was the end of a single ribbon. He hadn’t recalled seeing it the night before in the dimmness. A few nimble fingers slipped gingerly into your hair and as the ribbon snaked out, so too did the crimson red Uchiha clan crest.

Tobirama recoiled from you like it were a snake, falling backward onto the river stone.

The memories came back to him all at once.

He had seen your face before. He had seen your eyes all those years ago in the clearing of the forest. The kill that got away.

His hand trembled to the holster on his leg, pulling out his grandfather’s prized, Uchiha-killing kunai.

Your laugh echoed in his mind, the laugh like a fox. He rose to his feet, swiveling to check his surroundings as he approached your sleeping form.

Yes, he remembered you now. He remembered his promise to carve out your sharingan. He remembered the years of shame he felt in letting you escape and now you were there. You were there, sleeping and vulnerable and as Tobirama held his kunai in his hand, he felt like a child all over again.

But as he observed your sleeping form, another memory flashed across his mind. The memory of your stare. The fear in your eyes as you stared up at him with your blasted sharingan eyes. He remembered well how you braced yourself to be killed at his hand, splayed out like a pinned butterfly.

His kunai clattered to the ground.

You bolted up at the noise and Tobirama immediately dropped to his knees to comfort you, kicking the kunai into the river in a moment of pure instinct.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I think I’ve figured out how to wrap this series up in a few chapters. I’ve wanted to keep it short so hopefully we can see an ending soon. It’s a really slow write though! JEEZ!

Also, I’ve been using “apothecary” to refer to the pharmacy and Reader’s job as an apothecary. The jury is out on whether that’s correct but we’re going to pretend it is! Sorry to any apothecary experts who are irked hahaha

Not to mention Makihara is 100% a last name because I completely forgot he was an Uchiha OOPS

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

#tobirama senju x reader #tobirama x reader #madara x reader #Tobirama Senju #madara uchiha x reader #tobirama #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #naruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction #naruto reader insert #reader insert #x you #x reader #foul creature

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madarasthicc · 2 years

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Map to Hope: 2

Madara x Reader

- An arranged marriage twenty years in the making comes calling for Madara Uchiha. Now that Konoha has stabilized, his bride-to-be is ready to be at his side. But is Madara ready for what marriage all entails?

[Chapter One] —> [Chapter Three]

Chapter Two: Agreements

This chapter is a series of flash backs for reader.

Come vote on what one shot you want to read after this chapter -> [link]

She barely remembered meeting him. She had only been six at the time and she didn’t understand everything that was being discussed. It had been a quick meeting, with her parents and his father. Their agreement was on paper, but there was something more final about agreeing in person, verbally, for everyone to hear. She stood beside her mother, eyeing the older man and his son.

“We are in agreement? Your daughter’s hand for one of my sons, in return we join together, under Uchiha’s protection.” The stern man said looking down at her, he scared her so she shifted behind her mother’s dress.

“Yes, we are Tajima Uchiha.” Her father, Ichiro said, offering his hand to Tajima. They shook hands, both men gripping each other’s hands harder than strictly necessarily. “Y/N, come out from behind your mother. Mind your manners, say hello.” Her father snapped, gesturing for her to step in front of them. Keeping her e/c eyes downcast, she stepped forward.

“Hello, I’m Y/N.” She said looking up at the man and boy. The boy would be her husband, it felt foreign and too far into the future to comprehend. Y/N didn’t even really understand what that would mean. Sure, she heard older girls talk of marriage, having children, and running a household. This was what they were discussing between the boy and herself. She looked back at her parents for a moment-her father gestured her to step closer to Tajima and her mother offered a small smile.

The man knelt down to her level, offering her what was supposed to be a smile. It came off too wide, and a bit of a grimace. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last, Y/N. Your father speaks of you often, he’s a proud father.” He said clearly trying to soften his hardened face and voice. It didn’t really work but she offered a small smile. She was being watched by her parents, these two strangers, and her own clan members. She had to mind her manners, and make her parents proud.

“Thank you, I do my best to be good.” She said looking down again playing with the hem of her jacket.

“This is my son.” He said pulling the boy forward. He was just as stoic as his father, even as a ten year old. “He’s growing into a strong shinobi.”

Shinobi.

Her friends liked playing house with dolls, while most of the boys ran off to be shinobis. She didn’t see what the fuss was all about. Shinobis. Her mother said it was dangerous, and that she better keep her mind away from such thoughts. Honestly, she didn’t understand the hype boys had with sharp knives and chakra tricks, and what made those things so dangerous. She wasn’t going to risk her mother’s anger asking about something she didn’t really care about. If it really had been of some importance her parents would have told her what that meant.

“Hello, Y/N.” The boy said, shifting as he felt many eyes on him. “I’m Madara Uchiha.” He stood straight, proud of who he was, of his clan as he offered his hand following his father’s action.

Staring at his hand, she shook it.

The Uchiha’s left not long after the meeting concluded. She ran back to her mother’s side, much to her father’s scoff.

That was the first and only time she had met him. For the most part she forgot all about it. The meeting was a mere blip in her life, something she didn’t need to think of until she was older.

-----

It was another three years before she put any thought into the Uchiha’s. She had overheard people talking about ‘the warring’ but did not really understand what it meant. Who were they at war with and why, but none of her teachers really had an answer to her questions. It wasn’t until an older girl had found dead bodies in a nearby river that it really became a talked about issue. Suddenly it was all the whole clan was talking about it. How unsafe it now was, never had the bloody violence been so close to their clan’s lands. Her father proclaimed that no one was allowed outside alone or once the sun began to set.

The elders called for action to be taken immediately on this turn of events. This caused an argument between her parents: her father did not want them to retreat, instead he wanted more people trained and sent to the war front. Her mother for once outspokenly disagreed with him.

It had been the loudest their house had ever been. The fighting between her parents had been out in the open, first tense and firm words turned into yelling matches. Surprisingly her mother won the argument eventually. After days of screaming her father out of the house he yielded to her pressure. She would take any non-shinobi members of their clan retreat west further into farming country instead of training more people. The rest of the clan and her father would join forces with the Uchiha’s.

Her last memory of her father was the morning of his departure east to join forces with the Uchiha’s, while she and many clan members moved west. Her parents said nothing to each other and Y/N didn’t try to make conversation at the breakfast table. The only sound was of their chopsticks and the chewing of their food. The weight of this being their last meal together and the heat of summer on top of it made the air feel heavy around them. Without a word her father stood from his place at the head of the table, he bypassed Ume and gave Y/N a pat on the head before he left. Her mother merely relaxed once he was gone. Y/N’s eyes followed her father’s movements until she could no longer see him, and turned back to her mother.

“It’ll be just us now.” Ume sighed, reaching out to pet her h/c hair now that they were alone. She offered her mother a small smile, which she returned.

They left with the rest of the clan later that day. Taking only what they needed in day to day life. No one seemed too bothered to be leaving most of their things behind. The ever encroaching fear that war would be upon them must have helped erased that upset.

It wasn’t long after they reached where they would make their new home did they receive word her father had been slain. The messenger stood in front of her and her mother. Clearing his throat after he read the message aloud, confused as there had been no reaction. Y/N looked at her mother, a few tears in her e/c eyes. But her mother didn’t cry, merely nodded to the messenger and dismissed them.

“It’s just us now.” Ume said squeezing y/n hand. “We’ll be fine, we have the Uchiha’s protection.” Ume added, kissing the top of her head.

There is the end of Chapter two. Hope you all have enjoyed! Looking for 15 notes(comments/likes/reblogs) for chapter three. Please and thank you! Ask about this fic are always welcome!

#madara x reader #map to hope #fic #madara uchiha

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itamiiscribble · 3 years

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Tobirama Senju X Uchiha Reader [M/F]

Title: | Lover's Death |

Chapter 3: "Favor"

"SUMMARY":

"You don't have to be on the battlefield."

Slowly looking over your shoulder you raise a brow, not sure what he means with that.

Sighing in annoyance at your puzzled expression he turns around and jumps onto a branch of the nearest tree.

You turn around again, lifting your head high and watching his back tuned towards you. And right before you can ask what he means, the grey haired boy addresses you again.

"If you don't want to 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 life's, then 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 life's."

____________________________________________

Chapter 3:

Forcefully you are being pulled out of your comfortable warm futon. Someone is tugging and yanking at your blanket, startling you out of your slumber.

"Wake up!"

Sitting up you rub your face, trying to drive away the weariness in your eyes. The sun shining through the window makes it hard for you to decipher the person standing right above you.

"Help me set up the breakfast, be useful!" Literally spitting those words at you, your aunt leaves your room.

"Yes, aunt Suzume." You croak out, but having left your room already you doubt she heard you. You answer her regardless, as always.

You are used to this. Being treated like a nuisance, a plague by most of the people in your clan, even your own family.

Family...

Your aunt and uncle had no choice but to take care of you after your mother and brother had died. Five years you have been living under their roof. Five years you have been looked down on, treated like a servant in this household that should be feeling like your home.

But can you blame them?

You are the sister of a traitor, the daughter of incompetent parents. The only misfortune left in your family.

That's what your clan thinks of you.

But...you know the truth.

The truth which no one but 𝘺𝘰𝘶 believes in.

That your brother, Seiko, was murdered for refusing to kill a child Shinobi on the battlefield. Your mother, not being able to handle the death of your brother, dying out of misery and the hate that came from everyone in your clan after Tajima, your leader, had declared your brother a traitor of the clan.

She wasn't a weak woman, but having lost her husband on the battlefield eleven years ago, and only four years later losing her first born child had weakened her immeasurably to the point that she refused to eat or drink for weeks.

You had tried your best with your ten years of age to comfort your mother, to be there for her.

But to no avail. It had been like she had already given up on life.

It had hurt immensely to see her like that, but what hurt you more was the fact that it felt like she totally had forgotten about her second child, her daughter which tried to comfort her mother as much as she could with her only ten years of age.

Tried to make her feel better...

Not a year later, your mother had passed away. Medical Shinobi's declaring her death with the words 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

But it wasn't weight loss why your mother had died. It was sorrow, grief, the hate she had received from her once called friends in the clan.

You remember the loathing you had felt towards the people in your clan after losing your last family member.

You had stood there, beside your mother's bed in which she had been lying, dead. The three medical Shinobi's in front of you tried to explain you the reason of your mothers death. But you hadn't listened to one single word, your eyes had been fixated on your mother's deceased body.

"(Y/N)? Do you understand...?" Hiroshi, the head of the medical Shinobis took a steps towards you, crouching in front of you and looking up to your eyes. His expression was no where hostile, in fact, you believed he was the only person who didn't disdain you, your best friend included.

You had forced yourself to look away from your mother's body to gaze down at the old man with his too big glasses waiting for your answer.

Appalled, Hiroshi exclaimed in shock. Seeing the Sharingan manifested in your eyes his expression changed from shock to sadness. The old man had put a hand on your cheek, his eyes full of sorrow and pity.

"I'm sorry, child. You did not deserve this... ", he had slightly squeezed your shoulder before raising to his full height.

The way he had handled you, as if you weren't a nuisance like everybody else saw you, has made unwillingly memories of your deceased brother cloud your vision.

The way he had also been crouching in front of you, his eyes full of misery and tears-

"(Y/N)!"

Your aunt's voice strartles you out of the memories of the past. Rubbing your face you sigh slightly, quickly standing up from your comfortable futon.

After tidying up your futon and changing from your nightgown into your casual day clothings you are ready for a new day.

Leaving your small room you make your way to the kitchen where your aunt is already waiting for you. And as expected, the moment you join to help her, she speaks up with her usual grim voice.

"Set the table, i'm already finished in here."

Nodding you leave the kitchen with small rapid steps.

You don't really talk much if you don't have to, not in this household at least. Your uncle and aunt barely start conversations with you, only the inevitable matter. It used to upset you, when you were still a child. But over the years you have managed to accept the fact that their behavior towards you would never change.

So you just hold your head high and do as you are being told. Only for the sake of avoiding any dispute and destroying your small amount of peace in this household.

When you enter the living room you find your uncle already cross legged in front of the table, watching out of the window right beside the table.

You bow slightly, even though you know he won't see it, so fixated he was looking out of the window. But the moment you start putting down the tableware, your uncle speaks up in a stern tone, not moving his head away from the outside world.

"When do you plan on doing your training and going to the field?"

You freeze in place. You don't have to ask what he means. You know exactly what he is talking about;

Training to become a Shinobi.

It is required from every child in your clan to train from a young age to become a Shinobi and join the battlefield as soon as possible.

You were an exception. Having lost your family at a young age and being called the traitor's sister, people had avoided you. And that meant, no one had forced you to join the other children on the battlefield. You don't know if it was out of despise or fear of following your brothers footsteps and becoming another traitor. You believed it to be the latter.

But it did not matter, you were glad. You did not want to become someone who has to kill others to serve your clan. To kill 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 to survive. Having witnessed the death of your brother you had realized that a Shinobi's life was not an option for you. And you were glad that no one had forced you into it.

Until now it seems...

"I'm helping you and aunt Suzume out at the shop, uncle." Your uncle and aunt have a small shop right beside their house, selling various herbs. It wasn't a pleasant job, not when your aunt was making you work more than herself. But as always, you did not complain. Never.

You slowly continue setting up the table, hoping he will let the subject fall, like he did for many years. But apparently this time he wasn't planning on going easy on you.

"Me and your aunt can handle the shop by ourselves."

Changing the direction of his gaze he starts following your movements with his eyes. Avoiding looking at him, you continue your task at hand, swallowing hard.

Why is he being so obtrusive all of a sudden? You don't understand. You just want him to stop. You don't want to become a Shinobi. Not after what happened to your brother, your 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺!

Doesn't he understand that you have no desire to be on the battlefield? That you can't handle the thought of taking people's life? That's it's just not in your nature? How can he be so 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦?

What foolish questions.

They never cared about your well being, your thoughts and wishes, so why would they 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

"I enjoy working at the shop, uncle." Unwillingly your voice sounds harsh and you regret it immediately. But before you can add something to soothe the harshness, your uncle snaps at you.

"It is every child's duty to be on the battlefield!" Brows knitted and mouth pressed into a thin line he looks at you. Both of his hands are formed into fists on the table, he is obviously trying to subdue his anger.

This time you stop at your task and look back at him. If the atmosphere has changed already, then there is no harm in joining the thunder, right?

"I won't become a Shinobi, uncle Jiro."

You stand tall opposite of the table, trying to act calm in front of your uncle who get's more exasperated each passing second.

"You have no choice, (Y/N). It has already been decided. Tajima himself made the decision."

Your aunt's word's from behind you hits you like a lightning.

Tajima? The leader of the clan? But why...after so many years?

You can't move from your position, still too shocked at the declaration from your aunt. Aunt Suzume ignores your disturbed expression and starts putting down the edibles on the table.

"No... I don't want to...", you whisper to yourself, totally dissociated, but your uncle catches on to it.

"What? You dare to not follow order's from your own leader?!" Harshly hitting his fists on the table he straightens his back and gives you such a venomous look, it makes your inwards turn in nausea and you take a few steps back anxiously.

"Stop being so selfish, child! You 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 follow order's, you have no choice in the matter."

Letting out a painful cry you start running.

Running out of your so called 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. You don't know where you are running towards, but it doesn't matter. Anywhere is better than this so called home that gives you only misery instead of happiness.

The outside world is blurry in your vision, tears are flowing down your face uncontrollable. People around you don't even look your way when you pass them with wide rapidly steps.

You are thankful for that, this way no one will follow you to disturb you in your misery.

You are running for an unknown time, not caring where your feet lead you. Leaves hitting you all over your body makes you realize that you've yet again entered the forbidden woods.

Suddenly stopping in your tracks, you encounter a welcoming tree with it's branches low on the ground. Taking in a shaky breath, you make yourself comfortable on the branch, laying against it and lifting your head up to watch the morning sun shine through it's leaves.

The tears you had let flowing ceased the moment you've entered the wood. You don't have a single tear left to shed, exhaustion overwhelms your body after running for so long.

You don't know what to do. You just know, for certain, that you do not want to be a Shinobi.

It's simple... but yet so inevitable.

How can you convince your uncle and aunt that it isn't an option for you?

Is it even possible at all after what just happened between you?

But most importantly... How will you convince the head of the Uchiha, Tajima, that you do not want to go to the battlefield?

You refuse to be used as a weapon to murder people. You can't even think of harming another human being in the first place! No matter the reason...It's just not in your nature.

But... What can you do?

You don't realize you started crying again when you suddenly feel something wet running down your face.

Groaning in frustration you pluck a leaf from a near branch and start tearing it apart in fast movements. As if tearing it apart will also make your problems rip to shreds.

That is until u see a shadow like figure right above you on a thick branch, watching you.

For the second time this day you startle in schock from your berth. But this time you lose your balance and land right on to your face on the muddy ground.

Hearing footsteps landing on the leaves a few steps away from you, you get this familiar feeling again.

It is him. Tobirama.

And you are currently lying face down on the muddy ground.

Wonderful.

Could your day get any worse?

Standing up in slow movements you start wiping away the mudd on your body and face. Hoping that you managed to clean away the most of it, you finally look up at him.

There is nothing new on his appearance. He is again wearing his casual two-piece mahogany attire.

His face is also the same hostile expression as always, but for some reason you believe that's just his usual expression.

As mentioned, his appearance hasn't changed, so why is your heart beating so rapidly? Is it still from the shock he had caused you?

"Were you crying?" His voice sounds neither bewildered nor interested. He is asking you just plainly without any detectable emotion in his voice whatsoever.

Your eyes widening your gaze wanders down to the leaves in front of his feet.

"What are you even doing here again?"

"Those are a lot of questions, Tobirama." You counter, finally being able to look back at him again.

Apparently he wasn't expecting you to answer like that; one eyebrow raised he crosses his arms on his chest and just looks at you. Watching you, unblinking.

His eyes are darting back and forth between you.

Is he trying to intimidate you...?

For some strange and unexpected reason you find it amusing and can't hold back the giggle forcing itself out of your mouth.

Quickly putting a hand onto your mouth you watch his expression change from serious to confusion. His eyebrow knitted together he snaps at you, as expected.

"What is so amusing?" Snarling out those words he takes another step towards you.

Maybe you shouldn't have laughed on his account because the way he is looking at you 𝘯𝘰𝘸 is quite intimidating and you wish you never allowed that giggle to come out.

Immediately taking a step back you hiss in pain when your hand lands on a crust of the tree behind you. The tree you had been laying on its branch not five minutes ago.

Closing your eyes in distress you don't dare to move an inch more. You've cut your hand, you are certain of it, but you don't want him to know. Opening your eyes again you see the grey haired boy had stopped in his tracks and is looking rather confused in your direction.

You should've known that a Shinobi would catch onto every single one of your movements; the trembling of your right hand makes him understand the situation immediately.

Sighing in annoyance Tobirama takes the last few steps towards you and harshly takes your hand to investigate. You wince at his rough treatment and look up at him reproachful.

He doesn't even glance your way, still examining your bleeding hand.

And without a warning he turns around and starts walking, his hand still holding onto yours, carefully avoiding the injured part.

You don't know where he is leading you, too occupied with following his rapid steps.

"W-what are you doing?" You stutter out, meanwhile trying to avoid leaves hitting your face. Why must he walk so fast?!

Not taking the time to even answer you, the grey haired boy just continues his path.

Slowly getting annoyed at being treated this way you are about to snap at him, but right in that moment he crouches down, forcing you to do the same beside him.

Confused you look at him, what is he trying to do?

The moment he gently let's go of your hand you follow his gaze; right in front of you is a bush full of the wondrous Senju herb.

Immediately understanding his intentions you just follow the movements of his hands gently picking up a few herbs.

He was doing this for you...

You, still lost in mind barely see the way he puts some of the herbs blossoms into his mouth and starts chewing on it until it gets the perfect consistency.

Gently he takes your hand and puts it onto his own.

Watching his every single motion you instantly start blushing at seeing him take the mushy content out of his mouth. He doesn't see your blushing, totally concentrated on his task.

Why 𝘢𝘳𝘦 you blushing?

You get distracted when you feel a sudden pressure inside your palm. Tobirama is smoothly rubbing the mush on your wound, being extremely careful not to put too much pressure onto it.

And you are watching him.

Not the way he is handling your injured hand, no, you are watching the way he has is eyes slightly narrowed, his jaw clenched tight, highly concentrated.

You can't hide the smile appearing on your face at the expressions he is making. And for some unknown reason, you feel warm inside. You feel save...As if nothing bad could happen to you right now....

"Why were you crying?"

The question hits you like a lighting striking your body. Tobirama is still concentrated on rubbing the mush on your palm, not looking up at you and you are grateful for that.

You don't want him to see the expression you are making right now at the thought of what awaits you as soon as you go back to your home. Sadness overtakes the feeling of easiness, and unfortunately, you can't hold back the tear that runs down your cheek, falling into your injured palm and right into the grey haired boys vision.

He immediately lifts his head, looking you right into the eyes. You can detect that he feels uncomfortable, feeling out of place by your expression of sadness. It doesn't take long and he looks back down again.

Letting out a shaky breath, you decide to just tell him.

"I'm being forced to become a Shinobi." Your voice comes out in a whisper, but you are certain Tobirama was able to understand every single word.

You are sure, because the moment those words leave your lips, he freezes in his movements.

But not for too long, he continues his task with furrowed brows and lips pressed tightly into a thin line.

You don't blame him for being quite, in fact, you kind of appreciate it. You don't know how much you are able to tell him. Or even 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 tell him. He is still a Shinobi from another clan...

And strangely, that thought makes you feel even worse.

Another tear falls down into your palm. You try your best not to cry but to no avail. You are sure you look like a mess right now, but for some strange reason you don't care. You should feel vulnerable by showing your emotions so openly towards someone you barely know... But you don't...

A sudden stirr on your hand urges you to look down; Tobirama is currently wrapping up your hand with a fabric that looks odly familiar. Finishing up his task he slowly let's go of your hand.

He doesn't waste time in making more space between the two of you, swiftly taking a few steps backwards.

Smiling at his behavior you observe your neatly wrapped hand. He was really good at this, you had to admit.

Looking up you give him a small gently smile.

"Thank you, Tobirama."

Giving you a slight nod he avoids looking at you, which makes your smile grow.

Minutes pass and no one says a word.

Clearing your throat you slowly bow towards him, deciding it's time to go back. It's not like your aunt or uncle will be worried, but you don't want to make the situation even worse.

Turning around you make your first step, but abruptly halt in your tracks when Tobirama speaks up again.

"You don't have to be on the battlefield."

Slowly looking over your shoulder you raise a brow, not sure what he means with that.

Sighing in annoyance at your puzzled expression he turns around and jumps onto a branch of the nearest tree.

You turn around again, lifting your head high and watching his back tuned towards you. And right before you can ask what he means, the grey haired boy addresses you again.

"If you don't want to 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 life's, then 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 life's."

Eyes widening you can't say a single word but watch the way he crouches on the branch and takes a leap to the nearest tree, again, leaving you behind.

And here you are, alone, your thoughts running wild since the moment he said those words. You can't believe you didn't thought of this sooner. Well, to your defense, you never expected to be forced to become a Shinobi in the first place.

You cant hide the smile forming on your face on your way back home.

You've made a decision. You would turn things around to your favour.

Running. You are running again. But this time you are running towards hope instead of hopelessness.

It doesn't take you long and you are already standing in front of the door that will change the direction of your fate.

Knocking eagerly on it you can't await the person you wish to see opening it.

And to your luck, it doesn't take long and a white haired old man with his too big glasses opens the door, looking at you surprised.

Not wasting a single second, you bow down and ask him the question that has been lingering on your tongue since the moment you had made your decision.

"Let me be your student, Hiroshi-sensei."

Visit me on AO3 (*´꒳`*)

#tobirama x reader #tobirama x y/n #tobirama senju #senju tobirama #hate love #naruto fic #naruto #naruto shippuden #angst #fan fic update #fluff #naruto shippuden fic #fan fiction #tajima uchiha #madara uchiha #original characters

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

Text

Sideways (Tajima Uchiha x reader) - Chapter 1

Title: Sideways

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tajima Uchiha x reader

Rating: Teen | Up

Word count: 1134

Chapter: 1/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶

Warnings: angsty, physical fight, painful memories, mentions of serious injuries and blood

Summary: Life seemed to have no value during the Warring States Period, whether it was an adult’s or a child’s one. You, a respected doctor among the Uchiha clan, had your principles constantly challenged by the violent politics maintained by the elders with the consent of the current head, Tajima, a man who represented the exact opposite of what you defended - and the shadow of someone you once knew and loved.

Yep, nothing from Tajima on Tumblr. I MEAN HOW ?????

“How can you criticize

When you're not here to compromise?

Words fade as time goes by

Without you, without you “

(The Birthday Massacre, Sideways)

That task would be nothing but the same as all the previous ones that you performed if it wasn’t for this detail: your patient that time was the head’s eldest son, the little Madara Uchiha. And unlike the previous times when you were called by regular ninja to use your healing techniques, this time the boy’s father came in person to request your services.

Though you’ve had shinobi preparation since your youth, you were never seen so often at the battlefield alongside your Uchiha fellows: you were more of a doctor than a warrior, and your talents with healing and natural medicine were acknowledged by the whole clan, so that you would only fight when it was strictly necessary. You’ve saved countless lives with your abilities, and that was enough for you.

But there was something you just could not accept: the fact that children were still sent to fight the adult people’s battles, and now it seemed that their age has been decreasing. Knowing that the younger the child, the harder it was to save them was something that you never overcame, and sometimes you were too loud about it. This somehow contributed to your fame, and some people – elders specially – did not sympathize with you. Despite that, your work was essential to the existence of the clan, so no one had the audacity to lay their hands on you.

With Madara’s father, Tajima, things were even more complicated.

You were known to each other since you were little. You could say you were friends, as close as brothers, when you were children, but this feeling would turn into something deeper when you were teenagers. Since your parents were friends of each other, the idea of a marriage to unite both families didn’t sound strange to them; however, the circumstances separated your ways, and as you remained single and dedicated all your time to your work, Tajima married someone else, became the head of the Uchiha and fathered five children.

Knowing him as you did, you always carried some hope that things would be different from the moment he succeeded his father and the Uchiha – the adults and the children – would finally see good, pacific days with new politics and rules. But, again, destiny had other plans for you and your people: whether because he believed his predecessor’s ideals or because he hadn’t enough influence among the elders, Tajima chose to keep things as they were, and children were kept being sent to war, and with the constant conflicts with the Senju and other clans you seemed to work more than ever.

Those days the altercations with the Senju were causing you more damage than usual, and you’ve been occupied as you weren’t in months. You were also aware that Tajima’s kids – the ones who were left, Madara and Izuna – were fighting by his side, the example the other men needed to take their own kids with them.

That night you were trying not think of this and to concentrate in preserving your own chakra to use it in favor of the injured ones and to lead the group of medical shinobi that were there with you. However, all your efforts were thrown out of the window when someone came to your room.

You didn’t need to see the intruder’s face to know it was him. Just the way he arrived was enough to tell you: the fact that he didn’t mind knocking first, the loud, desperate steps, his heavy breath, a sign that something unexpected – and terrible – happened before his eyes.

You turned to him and need all your strength to not scream with what you saw.

The man you had there was the Tajima you knew, but somehow he looked like someone else. He seemed older than the last time you’ve met – well, he was older, just like you. There were some gray hair where once it was all black; on the tanned skin of his face, the sun seemed to have left deep marks, as he spent the last days under its light leading his people to war; the lines around his mouth and forehead, some inconvenient heirloom from his father, were now visible even in his blank face. Maybe his dark eyes, partially covered by his hair, were the only thing that remained unaltered, but you were afraid of looking into them for too long and find out that even them were no longer the same.

All of this was captured by your eyes in a blink, as a shadow of a thought instead of a conscious exam. And all were soon overshadowed by the shocking way in which Tajima appeared in front of you: his clothes, already dark, were soaked by something you knew it was blood, and so were his hands.

You didn’t need to hear his first words to see that the situation was urgent: the desperation was visible in his eyes, almost pushing you back to the chair from which you just stood up.

- What is it? – you required.

- It’s my son, Madara – the man replied, his voice disappearing between one sigh and another – He was severely injured! He needs your help, y/n-san! – he took an unconscious step toward you – Please… save him!

His words were loud and clear, but you acted as you didn’t understand them at first: you took a moment to take your equipment and follow him. It wasn’t that your feelings got in the way: to speak the truth, you didn’t feel anything at all when you heard them. Nor angry, nor fear, nor shock. Nothing. That man was just another person asking for help, and that boy was only one more victim that needed your services. Or this is what you kept telling yourself while you followed his father through the area of the compound destined to medical treatment of the soldiers.

You didn’t exchanged a word while you ran: it was a waste of time and energy. You had nothing to talk to each other. Not after all that time. Everything you had to say was already said, when he came to ask for your help and you accept it.

Tajima was just ahead of you. With good reasons, he was on a rush; if you slowed down just a little bit, he would leave you behind. He was at the same time near and far from you: at some moments, you were so close that you swore you could see blood staining the white in the Uchiha crest on his back or his hair growing on his nape, suggesting that he had no time to keep it shaved during that campaign; other times, he seemed to be nothing but a shadow in your way, one which you had to follow.

One from which you could not flee.

#naruto fanfiction #uchihas #tajima uchiha #tajima x reader #tajima uchiha x reader #uchiha reader #madara #warring states era

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madaras-housewife · 3 years

Text

Nighthawk

I’ve had this idea in my head for like 2 days and I wanted to put it on paper really badly so I wrote it on a whim. It’s poorly edited too so forgive me if there are any grammatical erorrs. 3 am vibes babyyyyy

pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

length: 1.8k

tw: none

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to the weather outside. He was a storm; majestic, grandiose and powerful. And yet, there he slept next to you, in the same bed you had been sharing for a while now. Had it been two years already? Your mind was too foggy to think about something even as simple as that; or maybe the pouring rain was at fault. It was almost too loud for you to hear your own thoughts, but you still heard them, nonetheless.

Somehow, you wished the rain could drown them out, the way you knew your newly planted crops would be soggy by morning. What a shame. Madara was going to be so disappointed after pestering you about planting a garden and having worked so hard on it. He had several skills, ranging from diplomacy to combat, but gardening was not one of them. Nevertheless, he insisted that it would be healthy for your growing family.

Even though your husband was near you, the abrasive feeling of loneliness filled your bones. It was always this way when it stormed, wasn’t it? Especially that night.

You turned your head to the side, squinting your eyes, but the room was too dark to see the clock. Carefully enough, you stood straight so as not to bother your man and rubbed your dry cheek. The thought of sleeping was way past you and, if you weren’t already certain about that, you definitely were when a billowing thunder roared so closely to you, you felt it rock your body with intensity. Before realising it, you recoiled and stubbornly balled your fists.

That night marked five years since Izuna had died. You only met him a few times, before you and Madara had become a couple. It often felt like the Uchiha compound was empty, as if it was missing something. Would it have been odd to say that you were missing someone you barely even knew? That was not quite right. In fact, you knew a great deal about the younger brother from Madara’s stories about their childhood, their squabbles and frequent conflicts regarding war. At one point, it started consuming Izuna’s consciousness, warping it into something dangerous, something that not even his elder brother possessed at the time; desire for conflict.

Whereas you counted years, Madara counted every day, even though he would never tell you that. It was obvious when he called that name in his sleep, almost every night, in a meek, broken voice that sounded nothing like the man you knew. If anything, he sounded like a scared child who wandered alone in the darkness. Even when you hurriedly draped your arms over him and clung onto him, his brows never fully unfurrowed.

Not even when he slept was he at peace.

Without realising, you turned your body to his side of the bed. Madara was sleeping on his back, soundly, as small snores parted his lips. He hated snoring and he swore he would never sleep in that position again, saying that shinobi must have control over themselves at all times. You smiled and promised yourself you wouldn’t mention it when morning came. All you wanted was to bend down to give him a small peck, but instead, you settled for brushing the hair out of his face, caressing his face so gently that you barely touched his skin. Your husband would usually wake up at the smallest touch, since you knew him as a light sleeper, but on that night, he seemed to be more tired than usual. Even in the darkness, you could make out that the creases below his eyes were a tad more prominent than usual. Peace was… exhausting sometimes, to say the least.

A flash of lightning cracked the midnight sky into two, brightening the room enough for you to see that he had a slight frown on his face. Your hand pressed itself against his forehead until you felt the tension slowly disperse. Now he looked rather calm and stress-free, as if a burden had been lifted from him. He seemed to have many of those these days and they piled up, almost forming a wall between the two of you. Deep within your heart, you wondered if that wall would become impenetrable, if you wouldn’t be able to reach him anymore.

You truly wished Izuna had been there instead. Though it was nothing more than an oversimplified solution to the numerous problems you and Madara faced(when, in fact, it wouldn’t even be that anymore, now that his little brother had been gone for so long), you liked to think that he could make your husband happy, happier than you made him. The comparison felt silly, unfair and unwarranted. You even felt selfish for thinking such a thing. Despite rarely ever showing it, his stares had grown a little fonder and his hugs a bit tighter since he received the news, and it was your candle of hope during the grim days, when he chose solidarity over comfort, working all night long, going on missions only to separate himself from the village and the clan which had caused him so much pain.

There would soon be another source of joy in his life and you wondered if you were up to the task. It was something that you had been ruminating over for months, but couldn’t quite put into words until now, though not exactly sure why. Maybe the chaotic life of inhabiting a shinobi clan had made it more difficult for you to truly look at yourself, to see what was inside. So instead, you chose to lash out at your husband again and again, until your anger poisoned him and all the patience he mustered for both of your sakes. But you were blessed with a headstrong man, who, in all that vast sea of insecurities and responsibilities, rarely ever mistreated your heart. Especially lately, when Madara had been sharing the same fears as you did.

On the other hand, Madara didn’t take out his anger on you the way you did. He lets all his fury simmer, lets all his misgivings haunt him, until everything builds up to a tempestuous wrath which befalls him out of thin air. That was how he was taught, and it was one of the few lessons from his father, Tajima, which he didn’t reject. It was what his father had left him with, besides agonizing memories of war. However, when his last sibling passed away, it seemed as if all of Izuna’s own burdens were passed down, leaving him with double, maybe even triple the cargo(or maybe, you couldn’t really quantify suffering in mere numbers, the same way you couldn’t with words).

Madara’s shoulders were heavier. You felt it every day, when you gave him the regular massage in the evening. What was it that you promised him on your wedding day? (It was hard to remember, now that so much had happened.) You promised him you would always be his pillar, so that he wouldn’t tumble when it was too dim to see what was ahead of him, (in reality, no one could ever see what was ahead of them; one can only row the boat facing backwards), but marriage wasn’t as simple as that. If love is controlling, then wedlock is a dictator. It demands a home, sex, patience, shared meals, babies, empathy and eternity.

Another thunder roared mercilessly, making the earth quake below you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, cradling your stomach. The disagreements had become too frequent, the scowls too obstinate and the distance between you too lengthy. How long would it be until you completely failed, until you wouldn’t be an adequate wife for Madara Uchiha anymore? Until you weren’t fit to carry his children?

The rain now hammered the ground, like a deafening fusillade of bullets and, in a moment of insanity, you thought it was taunting you, mocking you. It was so loud that you didn’t even hear the raspy groan next to you, until you felt a hand on your forearm.

“Can’t rest?”. His dozy voice seemed to have pulled you out of your disquiet pitfall of thoughts. Without facing him, you shook your head. The lump in your throat was too thick to even open your mouth.

Your husband then grabbed your shoulder and gently pulled you down, until your back hit the now-cold sheets. For a split second, you glanced at his face and noticed that his half-lidded eyes were locked on your belly, but as soon as he felt you looking at him, he stared back. When Madara noticed your pursed lips and glimmering eyes, he sluggishly crawled closer to you, turning you on your side until his chest was pressed against your back. Wrapping his arm around you, you heard him inhaling deeply into your messy hair.

You eased into your man’s embrace. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. Now come sleep.”, Madara said.

You meekly nodded, pushing yourself against his warm body, the worries gradually dissolving into nothing more than what looked like particles of dust, ready to be washed away by the rain. But when he didn’t hear you reply, he placed a deep kiss on your soft spot, the crevasse between your neck and shoulder.

“You’re going to be a great mother, you know. I love you.”

Could he have read your mind? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care about the answer. You were at home, exactly where you needed to be, with the person you needed. In that moment, you realised that Madara was going to be a great father, too.

“I love you too.”

Your husband always knew the right words to say; it was as if he could hear you even when you didn’t speak, mainly when you didn’t even want to. It might be that he just understood you that well. After all, he had a knack for reading people. Sometimes you would curse that talent of his, but it was in rare moments such as those when you were infinitely thankful for it, for it all.

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to a storm. He was a majestic thunder in the sky, capricious, striking fear and admiration into your heart; a grandiose ocean which didn’t fall from the sky, but was driven, torrential, carving mountains and earth to his own pleasure, omniscient, poised; the powerful wind, howling loudly, as if yearning for a melody to sing his tune, bending trees and tearing houses in his way, almost seeking to outrun everyone else, until he felt forlorn. The floods were promised, the might of nature had already been unleashed, but there would be sunshine and warmth by morning.

#madara uchiha #madara uchiha x reader #madara one shot #naruto #naruto imagines #founders era #konoha #tobirama senju #hashirama senju #madara

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broccolitachi · 7 years

Text

Gods Among Us: Chapter 2

A/N: Happy Fourth of July to my American followers and happy fic update day to the rest!

Chapter 1; Chapter 3

Your mother’s burial is conducted with much more pomp and circumstance than your brother’s. As the wife of the head of the Uchiha clan and a woman well respected for her selflessness and unwavering devotion to her family, your mother’s funeral is a matter of clan-wide importance. Everyone in the settlement gathers to pay their final respects, and you watch with your family from your place by the coffin. The clan hangs their heads in silent mourning, hastily stifling tears. They don’t see the demons either.

You feel your father’s eyes on you, watching for any sign of the “hysterics” that you displayed by your mother’s deathbed. He doesn’t know about the demon—none of them do. You live in a family of no-nonsense warriors; none of them would believe you. The last thing you need is for them to question your sanity as well as your constitution. Thus it is with gritted teeth and a clenched fist that you watch the demons dance on your mother’s coffin.

The pudgy one that attacked you earlier leers from its spot on your mother’s stomach. A skinny one with horns and only one leg giggles on your late mother’s face, and a third crawls over her ankles, a disgusting smile plastered on its face. They delight in tormenting you, knowing that your hands are tied. You endure their taunts throughout the funeral until your father finally steps out to close the coffin. The demons cackle in unison and disappear into puffs of smoke when the lid lowers, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps now your mother can rest in peace.

When your family returns home, Misaki orders the servants to remove the white mourning curtains. She’s now in charge of managing the household. Your father disappears into his study to read the reports he’d set aside after your mother died, and Madara and Izuna vanish into the woods after promising your sister they’d return by sundown. You wander through the house, avoiding the room your mother died in. A black cloud fills the interior, though you doubt anyone else can see it. You duck into the library to try and read the hours away, but end up tossing scroll after scroll away.

“Nika? Nika, are you in here?”

Your nickname sounds the same on your sister’s lips as it did on your mother’s.

“Oneesan, I’m over here.”

Misaki picks her way around the scrolls scattered on the floor, kneeling by you. She offers a tired smile, resting her hand on yours. “How are you, Nika?”

“M’fine,” you mumble.

“You sure? You seemed rather...upset when Mother died.”

You snort. “Upset” couldn’t begin to describe how you felt when you saw the demon, and your reaction by itself definitely surpassed appearing “upset.”

“I was just...shocked. I’m fine, really.”

Misaki looks at you as if she knows there’s more that you’re not telling her, but she shakes her head and pulls you into a hug. “Alright, Nika. I trust you. But if there’s ever anything you want to talk about, come to me, alright?”

“I will, oneesan.” You wrap your arms around her. You understand what she means—she will be your new mother as well as your older sister.

“Misaki-san, your father wants to see you.”

As your sister rises to leave, you hear a cackle and see the one-legged demon from the funeral materialize behind her. It picks up a scroll, waving it in the air before rolling it into Misaki’s path.

“Oneesan!”

She snaps her head around, concern creasing her brow. “What is it, Nika?”

“Uh, you almost stepped on a scroll.”

“Oh, so I did. Thanks for warning me, Nika. Would you do me a big favor and put these scrolls away? That way we can make sure no one else trips over them.”

“S-sure.”

Misaki gives you a big smile before she leaves, gently sliding the door closed behind her. You watch her go and then shift your attention to the demon, who is jumping on its leg and pounding its hands against the back of its head. It huffs and points a finger at you, babbling angry gibberish. The creature lets out a shriek and disappears in a violent explosion of smoke, leaving soot stains on the floor.

While you put away the scrolls, you realize that these beings, whatever they may be, are dangerous. If you hadn’t warned your sister, she would have taken a nasty fall and possibly been injured. These demons cause pain, and you’re the only one who knows they exist. As you wipe at the black marks on the floor, you vow to yourself that no matter what, you will not let these demons harm anyone. The world has enough troules without invisible demons wreaking havoc.

You have trouble sleeping that night, tossing and turning incessantly. Every little sound seems to be the miniature devils causing more trouble. When you finally drift off, the moon is high in the sky. Almost as soon as you lose consciousness, you feel a hand shaking you awake.

A melodic voice floats to your ears; you feel like you’re listening to fairies sing.

“Nika? Nika, darling, it’s time to wake up. We don’t have all night, you know. Try to go to bed a bit earlier next time, hm?”

You feign sleep, waiting for the stranger to drop their guard.

The intruder sighs. “Why must everything be harder with mortals? Nika! Wake up!” They shake you hard, and you use your momentum to launch yourself off the bed and tackle the stranger.

The intruder, a woman with long hair, yelps as she tumbles to the ground underneath you. She’s clad in a purple corset laced with black ribbons and pants that cling to her legs and disappear into leatherskin boots reaching up her calves. Sheets of patterned cloth sewn to the garment’s waist flutter around her legs. You doubt she has any weapons hidden on her, but better safe than sorry. You pin her using your legs and her rather impractical outfit and close your hands around her throat.

“Who are you and why are you here?”

The woman lets out a long-suffering sigh, casting her eyes up at the far end of your room before looking at you. “You know, I didn’t quite expect our reunion to be like this.”

“Our reunion? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you—? Right. Of course. You don’t remember. That’s great. Just great.” She drags out the last two words, letting out another sigh. “Alright, Nika. Here’s the deal. First off, relax. I’m alone, and I’m not here to fight. Crazy as it sounds, I’m supposed to teach you stuff in your dreams so you can have all sorts of cool powers. Thing is, our time together only lasts for as long as you sleep, and even if we weren’t wasting precious dreamtime right now I wouldn’t be able to teach you anything ‘cuz you’re kind of sitting on me.”

“What don’t I remember? What are you supposed to teach me? Why are you in my dream and how do you know my name?”

“I…” she pauses. “Let’s just say it’s a long story that I’ll tell you later, ok, Nika? The story will also explain how I know your name and probably also how you don’t remember anything. For now, all you need to know is that my name is Liana, and I’m your friend. As for what I’m gonna teach you—” Liana snaps her fingers and you fly off her, landing hard on your bed. She stands up, straightening her clothes and rearranging her golden headdress. “I can teach you how to do that, Nika, as well as a great many other things. You want to protect others from the demons, right? I can teach you how.”

“How do you—”

“I know a great many things, Nika, and if you listen to me you will too. I can give you all of this—” she gestures at her hands, “—and more. Anything you can possibly want will be in your reach—all it costs is your soul.”

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

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Sideways (Tajima Uchiha x reader) - chapter 4 (FINAL)

Title: Sideways

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tajima Uchiha x reader

Rating: Teen | Up

Word count: 1669

Chapter: 4/4

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶

Warnings: just a bit of angst this time and mentions to severe injuries and blood

Reader the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Maybe you were deceived and he kept his Mangekyo activated for longer than you, for no other reason could explain why you didn’t react in time.

It was too vivid to be a continuation of his genjutsu, yet too senseless to be real. The only thing you knew is that it was happening, whatever it was. A kiss? Yes, a kiss. Tajima got so close to you that if he wanted to kill you, he would already have done it; instead, he just passed his arms around body and maintained the proximity. He didn’t give you time to understand what was going on; he just did it. But it wasn’t like he tried to hide his plan – he seemed to have no preconceived intention. That kiss, you thought – no, you felt –wasn’t something one would think before doing; it came out as an act of raw precipitation.

If it were anyone else in his place, you wouldn’t be so surprised: being an Uchiha yourself, you knew the passion that ran in your clan’s veins as much as any of your fellows. However, Tajima had something that many of you haven’t, and that was what granted him the position he occupied now: he knew how and when he needed to surpass the usual tendencies and take control over his own passion, directing it to clear, established goals. Since you were young, Tajima has been the most rational of you two: while your strength was in your attachment to your own principles, he pushed his own towards the collective causes. In other words, you only shared the same goals to a certain point; your visions and ways of acting were too different even to be understood by each other. It was just incredible that you’ve managed to keep mutual respect for such a long time.

That was how you figured out that something changed in him after that argument and the subsequent fight. The old Tajima, the one you supposed to know for years, would not hesitate in finishing the job he started, and then you would no longer be there still deliberating. This new Tajima was just… confusing. Was it that way he used to feel about you every time he saw you in action, whether defending your values or healing your partners?

Well, maybe this was still the same man, after all. Maybe he was just tired. Tired of what he became, or what he had to carry. Maybe he was tired of fighting you. There was also a possibility that he thought that his words would never be enough to convince you of his truth, so far you were from each other now, so that the only way he could make you believe him was through his passion. The Uchiha passion, something that only another Uchiha would be able to acknowledge.

And the Uchiha passion never lied, for you did acknowledge it.

You recognized his sincerity in your lips, in every nerve, every heartbeat – and realized you felt exactly the same. In your own way, you were tired of many things. You were tired of being conscious that maintaining your services as a doctor has been keeping the wheel of an endless war turning, yet you couldn’t just stop using your abilities to save your partners’ lives. You were tired of being only able to perform a noble work under such immoral conditions, of seeing the consequences of the maintenance such system every day in the form of blood, pain, injuries and mutilations. Most of all, you were tired of seeing that the person you once saw as your friend, your brother, your soul mate was the primary responsible for this, with enough power to stop it or to keep it and still not seeming to understand what that meant.

Yet you couldn’t stop loving him. You couldn’t stop thinking of him, caring for him, coming to save him when things got complicated on his side because that was what you had to do – that’s what we do when we love someone. You just couldn’t forgive him for not being by your side, firm against the decisions of the elders when you would do it for both of you. And yes, you couldn’t stop keeping your heart in pieces since he accepted to become another woman’s husband, to become the father of her children, not yours. In the end, did he ever really loved you? Or was his love not enough, while yours would always be?

And now he was there, holding you so tight that your heart could be unified at any moment against your will. And you were so angry at your yourself for letting it happen, for wanting it to happen. Yes, you were really tired and needed to be held. So just for once, you gave in. You forgot about your work, about the young boy sleeping right inside that house behind you, about the clan, the elders, the laws, about everything. For a moment, there was no past, no future – only you and the man you loved, engaged in a breathless, rough kiss just like the ones you’ve exchanged when you were young and new to this, and when you dared believe you knew the paths life had prepared for you.

You couldn’t remember who moved away first, if it was you or Tajima. But it didn’t matter; the kiss might have ended, but you remained close, entwined, his arms resting around you, your face hidden on high collar, stained with dry blood that mixed up with the hot tears you could not – and did not want to – hold back.

Between one sob and another you whispered something that he didn’t understand at first, forcing you to raise your head and repeat the question.

- Did she… ever knew?

You didn’t need to finish the sentence for him to know what you were talking about. Did she ever knew about us? About me?

The answer wasn’t entirely unexpected, considered it was Tajima who gave it to you.

- She might have had her suspicions. But she never got a confirmation. Not from me.

You released a sigh you didn’t noticed you were holding.

- It might sound insensible, but her suspicions don’t matter since she’s no longer here. To be honest, I don’t think they ever mattered. In my own way, I did all I could to be good to her. I’ve never been with anyone but her.

You let a muffled laugh escape, and he interrupted himself.

- What is it?

- She knew, Tajima – your voice came out a bit harsh, but there was no bitterness in you, not anymore – A woman always knows, even if she doesn’t want to. I thought you’ve finally learned to pay attention to your surroundings.

He didn’t reply to this. Instead, he changed the subject in a way that left you surprised both with the change itself and the things implied in what he said.

- So… In this case I haven’t been as discreet as I imagined in my actions towards you.

Actions towards you? But you haven’t even talked in ages.

- Actions? What are you talking about?

Tajima sighed.

- You must know that not everyone is satisfied with your positioning regarding our politics. Some people think you are too loud on your opinions.

You rolled your eyes.

- Tell me something I don’t know.

- Have you never found it strange that nobody had the courage to lay their hands on you despite their hostile attitude towards you? – he replied without changing his tone.

You straightened up and blinked twice.

- Are you suggesting that…

- I’m not suggesting anything – he cut you off – I’m telling you.

So he has been doing his part too. Thanks to his influence and practical measures, you have been protected from enemies inside our own clan. He has been working to maintain the fragile balance in a warring period when it was so much easier to just let you disappear with your dangerous ideology. And why? You didn’t need to ask. You knew why.

He approached his lips to your ear, giving your own words back to you.

- I thought you’ve finally learned to pay attention to your surroundings.

Your fingers squeezed the fabric of his clothing even before you realized what you were doing; you pulled him closer in a tight embrace, not wanting to say anything whether to thank him or to accuse him, not wanting to consider what you should do next. Knowing that he has been watching over you from his place, being the thing that separated you from your enemies when you never asked for protection was like taking off a weight you didn’t even noticed you’ve been carrying, and now you weren’t of what to do with your newly discovered freedom. After all the time of endless work to heal, protect and fight for everyone, finally it came your turn.

Tajima accepted your affective gesture, caressing your hair while smelling and kissing the top of your hair.

- For someone who became a bearer of the Mangekyo Sharingan so soon in your life, you were quick to underestimate the strength of the bonds created by an Uchiha fellow.

With face again hidden on his clothing, you smiled to his words and the sensation of new tears rolling through your cheeks and wetting the dark fabric against them.

- Don’t be so arrogant – you mumbled – It’s easy to triumph over me when I’m not fighting.

It was true that time kept moving and soon you were going to separate from each other, going to your respective places and missions, and your remaining moments together were going to be spent by the side of Madara’s bed, who would wake up within some hours. Yes, it was true that nothing changed except inside you, and with the war not being over yet, you were going to keep walking sideways, never touching each other.

But for now, you could live with that.

#naruto fanfiction #tajima uchiha #tajima uchiha x reader #madara #tajima x reader #uchiha

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

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Sideways (Tajima Uchiha x reader) - Chapter 2

Title: Sideways

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tajima Uchiha x reader

Rating: Teen | Up

Word count: 1266

Chapter: 2/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶

Warnings: angsty, physical fight, painful memories, mentions of serious injuries and blood

Reader the previous chapter here: Chapter 1

When you finally reached the place where the boy was, Tajima almost destroyed the door with his bare hand when he slipped it aside. He stormed inside the room and you followed him, but for a second you lingered in the doorway.

Nothing in that room differed from the others where injured soldiers were resting or receiving treatment, except for the things you saw beyond the obvious ones. That boy lying on the futon with a bandage wrapped around his chest while agonizing and sweating was Madara – Tajima’s son; the people who were around him were not just his partners, but also his family and direct subordinates of his father. And the man who fell on his knees beside the futon was not just any father, but the clan’s head. The man who carried this child with him to the battlefield. Who exposed him to what he was getting through now.

The man you once loved.

When Tajima turned to you, you saw everything you expected to see when you first looked at him: the lines of worry on his face; the redness in his black eyes that was not his Sharingan, but the sign of hours without a moment of rest; the blood on his clothing that he got while carrying his son all over the way to the place where he was now. Beside that, you saw what you didn’t want to see there: that glimmer of relief that he couldn’t hide, that said how happy he was for you to have responded to his call; that slight curve that appeared on the corner of his mouth, an imitation of a smile that he wanted to give you because you came with him, because you were there.

Because you said yes.

In other times, the first thing you would do was to hug each other as he would explain the situation and you’d immediately start to work. Now the only thing you had for him was the brief look you gave him that soon turned to the injured boy before you.

Tajima’s voice was harsh despite his efforts to control it.

- Y/n-san, you…

You didn’t mind the other shinobi’s presence and interrupted him without even looking.

- Everybody out! – you commanded as you prepared your tools – The boy’s father is the only person I want here until further notice!

You felt Tajima’s eyes on you as you sanitized your hands and heard the steps of the other men leaving the place without questioning your order. If there was something you were always proud about yourself, that was you command voice, something essential to a doctor like you. When there was none but you and Tajima with the boy, you knelt before his futon and started to work.

Things were not going well to Madara. You didn’t need to touch his forehead to see that he was burning in fever because of the wound that remained opened and untreated for too long. When you unwrapped the improvised aid around his tiny body, he shivered; if it was because of pain or anything else, you didn’t want to know. Tajima suffocated a scream beside you. You ordered him to sanitize his hands right now and he obeyed.

It was an ugly thing, what he got there: a deep cut under his chest that would go from one side to the other, something made with a specially sharp sword, an expensive weapon that only someone from a privileged clan like the Senju could afford.

- I will clean this to know its exactly aspect – you explained as you took clean sheets from the suitcase you brought with you – Hold him. The less he moves, the better.

Madara was half conscious and you had no ways to know the amount of pain he was enduring, but it surely was great judging by the roar that came from his throat. But you had the firmness to finish the cleaning despite those noises right in your ears. You threw the dirty sheets aside and told Tajima to step back.

- I will start the healing now. It will take time.

The look you gave him before activating your chakra said what your mouth refuse to, and what he already knew. That children were harder to save. And that he couldn’t expect things to be different with Madara just because he was his son.

You’ve put your hands united right above the wound, and the greenish light that emanated from them illuminated the entire room. You closed your eyes and took deep, long breaths as your chakra left your hands to reach the boy’s body, touching every cell, bringing them back to their original state and accelerating their reproduction, so that the unnatural gap among them would slowly disappear.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been there. Sometimes it felt like five minutes; other times, it was like you’ve always lived in that room. You no longer knew what was that place, who was that person you were trying to save, why you were so worried, why your hands were trembling. You no longer felt your surroundings, no longer acknowledged your own presence. The only thing you felt was your chakra.

That was the state you always needed to reach if you wanted to see your efforts’ result. Nothing – not even yourself – should be in the way of your chakra’s hands and the patient’s decease. Your heart should contain only one desire and your mind should bear only one thought, and it was about healing them. Closing the wound. Purging the fever. Keeping death at bay.

It was easy when it was with unimportant people. When you didn’t know their names or ages, or if they didn’t have family and friends waiting for them to wake up. You’ve done this so many times you didn’t even need to concentrate to start the technique.

That time, however, you struggled as it was your first time. You had to fight your own body to do its work, but you had to take care not to spend much energy on this. As your last resort, you had to appeal to your early training method.

Heal him.

Close the wound.

Purge the fever.

Keep death at bay.

You repeated the mantra – with your mouth and your heart – until your hands stopped trembling. Soon, the whole room was silent. When you opened your eyes again, you released the sigh you have been holding.

The wound was closed; a dark mark that crossed Madara’s body was all that’s left. He was no longer struggling to breathe, and the fever diminished. The green light vanished as you moved your hands away, tired but relieved. The boy was going to survive.

You organized your things, but didn’t take them with you. You stood up and walked toward the door.

- The fever is going to disappear before tomorrow, but he lost too much chakra – you explained, glancing to the child sleeping right behind you – He needs to rest. I will see him again in a few hours.

You opened the door and went to the porch, breathing the fresh, cold air of the night as if you haven’t done it in a long time. Now it was you who needed some rest.

You walked to the grass and were in the middle of the way when you noticed he followed you. So he didn’t stay with his son? Suddenly, the conscience of being followed awakened all the feelings you were containing to perform the healing.

When you turned back to Tajima, you had nothing for him but rage.

#naruto fanfiction #madara #tajima uchiha x reader #tajima x reader #tajima uchiha

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

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Sideways (Tajima Uchiha x reader) - Chapter 3

Title: Sideways

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tajima Uchiha x reader

Rating: Teen | Up

Word count: 1725

Chapter: 3/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶

Warnings: angst, physical fight, painful memories, severe injuries and blood

Reader the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

He opened his mouth to say something but gave up at the moment he looked at you. What he saw in your eyes stopped his words even before they were formed and he took a small step behind as if it had the strength to push him back to the room he just exited.

However your reaction didn’t justify his apprehension, for you just took a breath and asked a simple question.

- Won’t you give me a moment to rest?

There was more in those words that you were wiling to explain, so you counted on him to understand that. Disturbing your peace by forcing more and more people to come at your door seeking for help just to maintain a senseless politics was nothing to him; he needed to do something more serious, something more stupid. He needed to drag his own children to those lands soaked in blood and make you clean the inevitable mess. And for the child, for your principles, you did it.

But wasn’t it just enough? Didn’t he ask enough from you already? What else did he want?

By the way he was staring at you now, the answer to all those questions were no. He was done with you, not yet. And his next words only confirmed it.

- I just came here to thank you for coming… for saving him.

No, you could stand many things, but not this. His words, his tone, his look – he was acting like he knew how hard it was for you to come and save a child he had with another woman when he actually didn’t know anything about it, because it wasn’t him who suffocated his pride in the name of his mission, it wasn’t him that was replaced by someone else while his lover just moved on to live a life that he was supposed to share with them, it wasn’t him that had to watch you turn yourself into a stranger all over the years.

You took a step toward him. From all directions, you were both surrounded: on one side you had the house; on the other three, the wood walls and some trees. That place looked less like a yard and more like a battlefield in which you made your first move.

- Saving him? I was making amends after your mistake!

His voice trembled when he replied.

- What do you mean, my mistake?

- Do I really need to tell you?! – you almost spat your words.

Tajima became serious. At least that time he knew where you were leading the conversation to.

- Y/n-san, I respect you as a shinobi and a doctor, but if you are going to discuss a political issue right now…

- I am discussing a life here! – you interrupted – I can’t believe you are so blind that cannot see that! How much you’ve changed, Tajima – your voice cracked a bit with what you said next – I can barely recognize my friend inside this shell.

Something in the way he replied showed that part of him wasn’t immune to that fact. But maybe things went too far for this to make a difference now.

- Changing is not the problem, y/n – as a response to the way you called him, he dismissed the formal treatment for the first time – Stubbornness is. And you know that.

You gave him a sarcastic smile.

- So that’s how you call valuing life now? I’m not even surprised to hear that.

He raised his voice.

- Am I really blind, when it is you who refuses to see that if we had things your way, our enemies would have already invaded our territory, burned our houses and spilled our people’s blood! You are lucky that the thing that separates you from death are our soldiers!

At that moment, anything you might be feeling was replace with pure anger; you clenched your fist and smashed the old tree that was beside you. The huge trunk, once just one body, was divided in two as its center cracked in thousands of splinters.

- And your child is lucky that the thing that separated him from death was me!

He held his breath as you raised your fist. After all that time, you still had that monstrous strength in your hands. But he was still the head of the clan, so he had to stand his ground.

- If it is my gratitude what you want, then know that you have it. But this does not change reality. We are still at war. We still have to fight!

- Your gratitude? You have no part in this, Tajima. I did it for the boy, and the boy alone – you pointed a finger at him – You have no right to thank me when you are the direct responsible for what happened to him!

His voice lowered a bit.

- And since when you care so much about another woman’s child?

Your eyes burned, but not with tears: your Mangekyo Sharingan was activated in response to his bitter words.

- Since his mother is no longer here to protect him from his father, a man who I once loved and who became nothing but a coward!

When the word coward left your lips and reached Tajima’s ears, you weren’t able tell if it caused more pain in your or in him. You saw the change in his eyes, the black in them giving space to the reddish pattern of his own Mangekyo. Since he rarely activated it in face of a fellow clan member, you understood this gesture as a response to your challenge, a sign that he accepted to fight to prove his point.

It has been a while since the last time you two fought against each other, but you knew well that it wasn’t for no reason that Tajima was the current Uchiha head: he has been a formidable shinobi since his youth, and your respect for his ability made you prepare yourself the best you could for the imminent conflict.

He was the one who made the first move. He started running at you to inflict a physical attack, from which you defended yourself in time: he was still as fast as before, and despite not having enough control over his chakra to destroy a massive surface with a single punch exactly like you did, his strength and knowledge of taijutsu was far from ordinary, so that if you could start having problems in case you started to underestimate him. Still, it was better than a fight with swords: that was a style in which you never surpassed him, so you were lucky that he didn’t have his sword with him at the moment.

After exchanging a quick sequence of punches and kicks as a way to measure your current capacities, you two stepped away from each other to think of a better strategy. Of course, you were just beginning: two experienced warriors like you would not waste chakra with something less exciting than ninjutsu.

This time you were the first to act. You made quick hand signs and took a deep breath before expelling a gigantic fire ball toward him. The flames consumed everything in their way before disappearing in the night, leaving the heat and the scent of smoke behind. However, there was no sign of Tajima when their light was gone. And you knew exactly where e was going to appear.

You turned on your back and put your arms in front of your face, quick enough to avoid the surprise attack he prepared for you, but not to evade before he stroke your ribs with his knee, the sudden pain making hard for you to breathe. You stepped back, but before he could reach you, your body became dark and melted in the air, turning into ravens flying around him, crowding his vision until they were carried away to all directions, blending with the moonless night.

When he looked down, he found his fists caught by chains that grew from the soil while you came at him ready to finish this. And for a moment it seemed that it worked: you could swear you felt your hand touching his face, you felt the blood coming out from the injury, the chains breaking in thousands of pieces while he fell. But that was not what you saw when you looked around: you just punched the soil, and your fist opened a crater around you, spreading stones and grass at the surroundings.

You stood up and started looking for him ahead, at your right, your left and finally behind you, where you found him for the second time. However his hands were not empty now.

You looked into his eyes and saw a bright of what you thought to be tears, but none of them rolled through his face. Blood came out from your mouth as you sensed something crossing your body from one side to another. You looked down and found his sword in your stomach. But how? When he got that sword?

In a last effort, you took a step ahead, the blade slicing your skin and guts, and raised your right arm. A kunai slipped from inside your sleeve to your hand; you clenched your finger around its base and pointed its sharp end toward him. The kunai was buried in his neck and he started spitting blood. Your eyes met for the last time, and you two knew that the physical wounds were not the ones that hurt more.

You opened your eyes at the same time and suddenly there was no longer blood. No longer a kunai in your hand, nor a sword in his. There were only you, standing in front of each other, your eyes back to their normal black shade, your mouths closed, for nothing was left to speak or explain beyond what you said through your Mangekyo Sharingan. If there was something good that you could take from this, it was that at least you haven’t lost this special capacity of understanding your unspoken thoughts through your dojutsu.

But that didn’t mean you became able to foreseen impulsive reactions from each other. Otherwise you would have stepped away before Tajima threw his arms around you, bringing you close enough to reach your lips.

#naruto fanfiction #tajima #tajima uchiha #tajima uchiha x reader #tajima x reader #madara

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

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So maybe a Tajima x reader will be out soon 🤭🤫

And now I'm pissed and I'm leaving bc I couldn't find any gif of him for this post

#naruto fanfiction #uchiha #tajima uchiha #madara #tajima x reader #can't believe we don't have more of this #I have to do something about it #talking at the café

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broccolitachi · 7 years

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Gods Among Us: Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is the first installment of my Tobirama x fem!reader fic. The fic covers pretty much all of the reader’s life and then some shh so strap in for the long way round. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ I went with an oc-ish reader for this fic, so it’s still in second person but the reader has a lot more background and development like this. you also get cool powers I gave the reader a name so it would be easier to write interactions, and that’s pretty much it. Enjoy!

Chapter 2; Chapter 3

“Where no gods are, spectres rule.” - Novalis

You hear the screaming first. Shinobi are not supposed to show emotion, but mere rules will never mask a mother’s grief. Fear grips your heart with icy fingers. You dash into the house, your younger brother Izuna hot on your heels. In the front room, you stop cold, shaken to your very core.

Your mother weeps over your eldest brother, who lays in a growing pool of blood. She has his head in her lap, painting his face with tears. Grim-faced, your father kneels next to your mother and places a hand on her shoulder. He gazes at your brother’s body, his eyes stony and distant. Shinobi do not show emotion. When she notices you, the eldest child, your sister Misaki, wipes the tears from her cheeks, rises from her place beside your parents, and gestures for Madara, now your oldest surviving brother, to follow as she ushers you and Izuna into an adjacent room.

Izuna, four years old and wide-eyed, whispers, “will niisan be ok?”

Your sister hiccups, then composes herself before looking Izuna in the eyes. “Izuna, our brother is gone now. He was an honorable shinobi, but now we can only honor his memory.”

“Will he come back soon? He said he was gonna teach me how to throw shuriken.”

Misaki gazes at Izuna with eyes full of sadness. She pulls him into a tight hug, letting her tears fall anew. For once, your younger brother doesn’t squirm.

You fidget with your sleeves and glance back at the front room, where your brother and parents are, half expecting him to groan and sit up. But your brother is gone now. Dead. Forever. No coming back. No more playful wrestling on the tatami mats, no more affectionate hair ruffles after dinner. No more legends and folktales by candlelight, and no more fishing together by the river. It doesn’t feel real.

Madara, standing by the door with his head lowered, grits his teeth and clenches his hands into fists. He stumbles, surprised, when you rush over and hug him, but he finds his balance and makes a halfhearted attempt to pry you off, mumbling something about his bloody armor. You respond by tightening your grip on him, and he gives up, hesitantly returning the embrace.

You press your head against his chestplate and feel his tears trickle down the back of your neck. You stay that way for a while, softly crying into each other’s arms. At last Madara whispers, “I’ll keep you safe, Nikawa. I’ll become stronger and protect you and Izuna and older sister with everything I have. I’ll keep you all safe from the Senju.” His grip tightens. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Your brother’s funeral is quick and simple. The clan holds a brief ceremony in honor of all those lost during the battle, and the male relatives of the deceased then bury the coffins in the woods to protect the Sharingan’s secrets. The living have only the family shrine and their memories to remember the dead. The Uchiha women gather to console each other, but their words only terrify you.

“The first loss is always the most painful.”

“I hope his death was quick.”

“He died with honor, as a valiant shinobi. Be proud of his memory.”

You don’t want your family to only be memories for you to weep over, and you don’t want to be a mere memory for your loved ones to mourn either. So you seek out Madara and beg him to train you. At first he protests, but with your late brother’s memory still fresh in his mind, he soon relents, agreeing to teach you basic ninjutsu and taijutsu so you can defend yourself.

Training is difficult at first, but becomes easier with time. You display an uncanny talent for controlling chakra, quickly surpassing boys your age who have trained for years. Taijutsu and weapons training takes more time, but you refuse to give up. Impressed with your performance, Madara agrees to continue teaching you.

Your mother takes ill a few weeks after your brother’s death. She struggles through the coughing fits and fevers, refusing to rest. Only your sister’s pleading convinces her to stay in bed when your mother’s illness takes a turn for the worse. When your mother becomes bedridden, she orders the servants to keep all of you out of her room, lest her disease be contagious. You, Misaki, Izuna, and Madara spend many hours waiting outside your mother’s bedchamber, helplessly watching the servants and doctors scurry in and out. Worry and fear hang over you like a cloud.

You father checks on your mother every day after he is done working, updating the four of you with a curt “she hasn’t improved” after each visit. For all his strength on the battlefield, Uchiha Tajima is powerless against disease. The doctors are at a loss--nothing seems to help. Your mother dies three days later.

When the servants finally let you and your siblings into the room, your sister and brothers rush to your mother’s side. Despite their tears and pleading, your mother remains still. You’ve lost another loved one, so soon after your brother. You want to scream.

You hang your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. The world did not need death and slaughter. Why couldn’t everyone live in peace? No war, no violence, just families playing together, loving each other. In peace. You just want a world of peace.

As your mind returns from the realm of hopes and musings, you notice a black tendril reaching out from under the bed, lapping up your siblings’ tears. It writhes along the edge of the bed, pulling your family’s grief into the shadows. You lift the edge of the tatami mat to investigate, and a hideous creature pops out.

The creature is no larger than your foot, with a round, black body and stubby limbs. Its eyes, settled above a grotesque mouth full of wicked teeth, cast wildly about the room until they both rest on you. Tongue lashing the air, it lets out a delighted cackle and lunges. You back away, kicking and screaming at it, but the little monster remains fixated on you, easily dodging your panicked thrashing.

You feel a pair of calloused hands take you by the shoulders and turn you around. When you turn back, the creature is gone. You look around at the concerned faces of your siblings kneeling by your mother, the stern expression of your father in front of you, and the weeping countenances of your mother’s servants standing along the walls. They show no sign of fear or surprise. That’s when you realize: they can’t see the demon.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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