#board a

Transcendence

In a world of gods and beings with immense power there once lived a man of simple beginnings. Born to a family of modest wealth, Izuna wanted for very little that his elder brother did not provide. For many years he lived a happy life surrounded by comforts and he was content in his place with very few complaints. Perhaps a little arrogant, maybe sometimes a little impatient, underneath the selfishness he presented to others there lay a heart of gold that wanted only to please the brother whom he loved.

Until the day his world was rocked and his heart betrayed by an unexpected decision.

Hungry for power beyond his position, the elder of the Uchiha brothers sought friendship with the king that ruled their lands and availed himself of whatever the king asked from him in return. For a time Izuna thought little of this. Always before his brother had considered what was best for him and always he had been allowed to seek whatever path in life made him happiest. That changed on the day he was presented to the king, when the monarch of their land saw his beauty for the first time and fell madly in love with him – or so he claimed.

The king’s love was a selfish, thoughtless thing, worried only for his own desires with no care for what Izuna may want. When his attempts to capture the young man’s attention failed the king went to his older brother to whisper quietly in his ear. In exchange for Izuna’s hand in marriage he offered riches and power, jewels and soldiers, influence and a place at his side for years to come. Seeing such an easy path to all he had ever wanted, Madara accepted the king’s offer without consulting his sibling first. It was his right as the head of the house, he claimed, to determine the fate of those under his care. And unfortunately he was correct.

Unhappy with this decision, Izuna pleaded with his brother not to make him do this. The king was not a kind man, he said. The king would not treat him well but would make him unhappy. Madara did not listen.

In desperation Izuna fled to the temple of the God of Compassion, Tobirama. On his knees he prayed at the altar for many hours, confiding his worries to the ruler of the gods, begging with all his heart for Madara’s will to be turned aside. From sunup to sundown he poured out his heart but, to his devastation, received no answer. With the heaviness of fate in every step he left the temple thinking himself doomed to a life he had never wanted with no one to hear his cries of despair.

Yet there was someone who had listened, unbeknownst to him. Though he had not shown himself the God of Compassion was sworn to listen to all who prayed for his aid and he had taken heed of Izuna’s plight. He found himself confused and intrigued by the passion in the young human’s words. To have someone plead so strongly against their own marriage prospect was foreign to him, something he had yet to witness in all of the many arrangements he had blessed. So unusual was it that the god Tobirama vowed to watch over Izuna.

So it was that Tobirama watched from afar to learn what he could of this fascinating human and the situation he struggled so desperately to escape. And the longer he watched the more deeply he fell in love with this human who turned his nose up in someone’s face and then granted them favors when their back was turned. Izuna was beautiful to the others of his kind but to a god it was his soul that shined the brightest and it wasn’t long before Tobirama knew that he wanted to meet with this man. That he had to know this man who could surprise even a god with his actions. Truly Izuna must be one of a kind, surely they must be destined to meet.

He appeared before Izuna on a hot summer evening with little fanfare for Izuna was not one to be impressed by those who thought too highly of themselves.

“I am the God of Compassion,” he said, “and I have heard you words. Your plight has touched me and I have come to grant you the freedom you prayed for so fervently. Ask of me, young Izuna, and I shall grant your wishes.”

“Oh highest of gods I ask only that you free me from this unwanted marriage to a man who desires nothing more than the pleasures of my body.”

With a magnanimous nod Tobirama vowed, “As I have promised so shall I do. Tell me, Izuna of the Uchiha family, where do you wish to go.”

The question gave Izuna pause and he admitted that he had nowhere else to go but that surely anywhere must be better than to spend the rest of his days chained to a selfish and pompous king. His answer brought thoughtfulness to the supreme god’s face.

“I would not wish to see you untethered and alone in this world. Seven days from now I will ask you again where you wish to go and your answer shall be my will.”

But that was not all there was to the god’s promise. For six days Tobirama returned to visit with this human who had captured his attention and for six days they spent many hours together. Izuna wove tales of his people and the great myths of their land. In return Tobirama recounted the beginning of the world and told stories of the gods’ cavorting. So well did they get along that the seventh day arrived almost as a surprise and still Izuna had not taken a moment to think of a place he might flee to in order to escape his unwanted marriage.

And yet something had begun to grow between them as they spent their days together and as he learned more about the god who promised to solve his problems Izuna finally recognized the warmth that was blossoming under his breast. On the morning of the seventh day he went to his brother the moment he woke with his heart in his hands.

Calling upon their brotherly bond he confessed that he had fallen deeply in love with the God of Compassion himself and asked that he be unbound from the king he did not want so that he might follow the path to happiness. But his brother refused him and forbade him from ever seeing Tobirama again. Izuna could see that his brother had been blinded by the promise of riches, taken in by false promises until he forgot the things that should truly matter. Though it hurt him Izuna knew what he had to do.

When Tobirama came to him that day with a patient smile he asked the question as he had promised to; where did Izuna wish to go if he were taken away from here?

“I would stay by your side,” Izuna told him and Tobirama received him happily, both of their hearts’ desires fulfilled.

Borne by a golden chariot they fled the Uchiha estate to the place where the gods made their home. There they alighted and were together and they both were happy to have found the other half of their soul. Their union was one of partnership and equality, a give and take that spoke to many happy years ahead of them.

Yet not all were pleased. In the kingdom from whence he fled the suitor Izuna had scorned burned hot with rage and shame, filled with insult to be so callously rejected and humiliated to have been judged as less than a god. All his life had his subjects worshipped him and told him that he, their king, was like unto a god himself. To have his intended flee the rich life he offered for the hand of another left a darkness that rotted in him until he could bear it no longer. Filled with rage, he made a plan.

In secret he called his forces together and amassed a great army. The kingdom was large and his influence strong, far-reaching. Word was sent by a secret messenger to the Uchiha estate where Madara was called upon to test his loyalty. Would he support his king in this hour of need or would he break all bonds of fealty and stand by the brother who had betrayed them both? Madara's answer was swift and short. He marched for the capital the very next morning with as many strong men as he had to offer riding at his back for he too had felt spurned by Izuna’s quiet exit which cost him his path to riches and power.

When all of his forces had been gathered and the points of their swords stretched from horizon to horizon the king bade his servants to fall on their knees and pray.

“Pray to the god of compassion that he come and meet his doom. Beseech him appear and face the calamity that he hath wrought for I declare that I will wage war upon he who has stolen what is rightfully mine.”

In the home of the gods Tobirama heard the prayers of those who sent him worship, as he listened always to the words spoken to him, and in these words he found amusement. How very much the king must think of himself to challenge a god, to declare war on the heavenly host. With laughter on his lips he went to Izuna and told him what prayers had reached his ears but instead of mirth he was met with fear that he quickly tried to sooth. No mortal could hope to meet a god in battle and triumph, he assured his love.

Still Izuna’s worries were not soothed. He worried for the crops that would not grow with so many men gone to war, for the wives that wept over husbands who might never return. More than his divine lover he knew the effect that war could have on the peoples below them and this was not what he had wanted when he fled his own situation.

Izuna begged Tobirama to put a stop to this without letting it go any further and Tobirama, seeing that this was truly important to him, agreed. Moved as he was by the emotion in Izuna’s voice, how could he do less than anything his beloved asked of him? With utmost confidence in his own abilities he girded himself for war and selected the finest weapons from his holy arsenal. As he made to leave he was stopped by a gentle hand and the press of soft lips against his cheek – and surely no wine could ever taste as sweet as having the love of this man at his side.

He listened gravely to Izuna’s warnings to be careful. To remind him of his purpose Izuna tore a strip of silk from his own clothing to tie around Tobirama’s wrist as a symbol of his favor for all to see. With courage roaring like a fire in his breast Tobirama set out from the place where the gods made their home and mounted the same golden chariot with which he had carried them both to a peaceful escape not so long ago.

The battlefield stretched out before him with grave silence when he alighted upon the earth, endless miles of spears and swords standing in orderly rows before the wicked king who hid behind their might. In disgust Tobirama called upon the king to face him like a man rather than hide behind others.

In answer the king sent his champion to face Tobirama in battle – Madara of the Uchiha family, the brother spurned. And although several attempts were made with honeyed words and sincere reassurances that Izuna’s life was happy and safe now Madara was not to be soothed or deterred from his path. So strongly did he perceive some injustice done to himself in his brother’s refusal to marry for his gain that Madara was willing to throw his life away meeting swords with a god.

When it became clear that words would not spare him from this ridiculous farce Tobirama unsheathed his blade and lifted his shield. Gird in armor from a heavenly forge, armed with weapons shaped from a fallen star, it was little wonder that the battle swayed easily in his favor almost the very moment it commenced. Yet he found himself surprised by Madara's skill. Far from the pampered and lazy noble he had expected, his opponent demonstrated great skill from the first clash of their blades and it quickly became clear that they were a better match in battle than anyone could have predicted. What should have been a quick and resounding victory became a struggle for the highest of stakes.

For Tobirama had given his word when he accepted the challenge and it burned in his heart to know that if he fell in this battle it would be the end of Izuna’s freedom, that to be vanquished now would doom his beloved for the rest of his pitiless life. Such a thing could not come to pass.

And yet his arms grew tired. His parries grew weak. So long had it been since there was need for him to take up sword and shield that Tobirama found he had forgotten the rigors of war. It did not take long for Madara to sense that victory may have been closer to his grasp than many believed. His grimace of exertion became the feral grin of a creature on the hunt, a predator that senses the weakness of its prey. With a great war cry he brought all of his skill to bear and pushed forward in a relentless attack that drove the god of compassion back until his knees folded and he knelt upon the earth with both arms raised to protect himself.

Then it was that a breeze happened across the sandy plain where they had made their battlefield and lifted the scrap of silk tied about Tobirama’s pale wrist. Vibrant red woven with golden thread, an outfit he had willed in to existence to match the fiery passion of his lover’s heart.

“For Izuna,” he whispered and Madara paused in his wrath.

“For Izuna,” he murmured and the strength returned to his arms and his legs.

“For Izuna,” he declared and a fire was stoked inside him that could not be dimmed.

“For Izuna!” he roared and his purpose was made anew, the love he felt rushing through him and giving him the power to push himself back to his feet and drive Madara away.

As though the Fates themselves had blessed him Tobirama gathered his godly strength and brought all of his skill to bear until it was Madara kneeling in the dirt with a blade at his neck, begging for mercy he did not deserve. Yet Tobirama granted him mercy – of a sort.

Long was the noble Madara's hair, long enough to brush the back of his knees for all who looked upon him to see that he had yet to be defeated in battle. And firm was Tobirama’s grasp as he held the cruel brother’s hair in one hand as with the other he sheared it in one swipe of his sharp blade. Madara's horrified screams mingled with those of the evil king still hiding behind the ranks of those he had gathered to defend his selfish cause.

“Are you or are you not the God of Compassion?” Madara cried, weeping to feel the wind against his scalp as he was shaven bare for all to see his shame. “Have mercy upon me! Have compassion as you are named!” He shrank away when Tobirama drew himself up in stern reprimand.

“You mis-define the word for your own purposes. I have had compassion upon the weak and the suffering. You are neither. I grant you mercy in the form of your life, in giving you the chance to repent your sins. Pray, my most wretched brother in law, pray that someday you may understand the things that you have already lost.”

Leaving his opponent defeated and broken, Tobirama turned towards the king’s armies and bade them to part. Seeing the fire of holy purpose in his eyes, they did so, stepping aside to make him a path to the king who had brought them all together. Tobirama’s justice was swift and unyielding. Although the king made an effort to defend himself he too had fallen victim to laziness during the long years of peace and had grown accustomed to having others perform tasks in his name. Whatever skill he might have had in times gone by had long been forgotten. He fell beneath Tobirama’s blade with little fanfare and not a single voice raised in his defense. When the king lay dead before his army they looked to the god before them for instruction, the clear victor on the field and the one they most feared to displease.

Tobirama had no interest in tending to human lands or meaningless golden crowns. It was not for him to take the throne he had so easily vacated. Yet there was another who he knew deserved all the good in the world, whose heart was deep and warm enough to guide these peoples in need of a kinder leader. He returned to the home of the gods to find Izuna with his nails bitten to the quick with worry and his beloved hurried to greet him with grateful relief to see he remained unharmed. Quiet and solemn were his words as he told Izuna of all that had passed on the earth below.

“It is for you to rule them,” he told his lover. “You who were to be their Prince Consort, now you may rule over them as a kind and benevolent King, clever and quick with your heart of gold.”

He listened carefully to Izuna’s worries that this new duty would part them but this Tobirama was quick to soothe as well. Though he may have endless worshippers to tend to and Izuna may have an entire land of subjects to watch over there was nothing on the earth or in the heavens that could keep them apart for he had found happiness in their bond and it was clear to him that Izuna felt the same.

And so it was that the supreme ruler of the gods took his first spouse in a human who deserved compassion as only he could give. The ignoble Madara returned to his estate alone and well-chastened where he would in later years reach out again to the brother he had treated so poorly. Far and wide across the conquered land the peoples agreed that peace and prosperity both had increased under Izuna’s ruling guidance. The land was quiet and happy and all was well.

When Kakashi’s stubborn stupidity had caused Madara’s death his heart had died too. He swore he’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt him again, he couldn’t handle losing anyone else. Rin and Minato-sensei had accepted the familiar cold attitude with pitying looks and a promise to listen whenever he was ready to talk. Kakashi found that odd, he’d never talked to them about anything before, so why would he start now?

It had taken Rin nearly getting kidnapped by Mist shinobi for Kakashi to realize he’d let her get close to him. That her death would be nearly as bad as losing Madara again. Minato-sensei has commented on how brutal his kills were, but the tone had told Kakashi the older man would have done the same thing if Kakashi hadn’t beaten him to it. Apparently Minato-sensei couldn’t stand the thought of losing another team member anymore than he could.

Kakashi’s promotion to ANBU had been met with resistance, but he’d managed to convince his sensei he could handle it. He excelled in the ANBU, rumor had it he might make captain soon. Normally Kakashi wouldn’t believe such rumors, but his next wave of missions had been his hardest yet. He’d done them without compliant, despite how utterly insane some of them were, and even enjoyed the solo aspect of them. That being said, Kakashi was secretly glad to be added to a team for the next mission, taking the position of second in command. He vowed this mission would be his smoothest one yet.

Staring at body floating in the large tube-like chamber, Kakashi finds himself at a loss. This was supposed to be an easy mission; all his team had to do was infiltrate one of Orochimaru’s supposed labs and find any useful information they could. That was it, simple easy mission; aside from the high chance of deadly traps and running into the sannin himself. Taking on Orochimaru single-handedly would be preferable to this; at least it would be a quick end. Not this slow agony that made his heart skip several painful beats.

Madara

Madara Uchiha

The selfless idiot that had pushed him out of harms away…

…that had given him his Sharingan…

…that should be DEAD…

…not floating in a glass tube filled with some strange liquid.

Kakashi wants to write it off as just his heart getting the better of his brain and making him see someone else as Madara, even if no one else had such a wild mane of hair. He wants to lock this moment away and never think of it again, and he’s going to, but then-

Then the pale figure opens his eyes and an achingly familiar Sharingan locks onto his own gifted one.

The world disappears around Kakashi as an inferno of chakra overwhelms him.

Instinctive awareness comes back to Kakashi first and he realizes he’s in a hospital before he’s fully conscious. Once he’s capable of higher thinking, the Hatake is torn between praying everything he remembered from the mission was just a nightmare and hoping it really happened.

“Welcome back.” That calm, compassionate voice could only be Minato-sensei.

“Did it really happen?” Kakashi questions softly, opening his eye to look at the blonde, aware his expression is a thousand times more open than he wants it to be.

“I…” Minato starts before he cuts himself with a sigh and breaks eye contact. It takes him a moment, but when Minato looks back at Kakashi, he’s no longer a sensei, but the Hokage. “What do you remember?”

“Madara, alive.”

“Yes, that really happened.” Minato pauses, knowing his former student needs a few moments to process that statement.

“How?” Kakashi finally asks, because that’s what he desperately needs to know; he doesn’t care about anything else, just how his best friend came back from the dead.

“That is unclear,” Minato says, unable to suppress his laugh at the unimpressed glare Kakashi shoots at him. “From our primary look at Orochimaru’s notes it would seem that he found Madara on the brink of death and decided to experiment on him. The full extent of what happened to him is unknown, those notes weren’t recovered, but it appears Orochimaru was still looking into Hashirama’s DNA.”

“Hashirama’s DNA…?” Kakashi mutters in confusion before his eye widens, “the Mokuton.”

“Precisely,” Minato sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes and Kakashi notices for the first time just how tired his sensei looks. “Madara displayed the ability when he broke out of his container to get to you.”

“To get to me?”

“The other ANBU reported that he broke out, injured you in the process, and then refused to let anyone near you. He had to be sedated so you could both be brought back here.”

“He’s here?”

“Of course,” Minato grins brightly, “we would never abandon a fellow Leaf shinobi! He’s still sedated though, until we can make sure he’s stable and still on our side.”

“Madara would never betray us!” Kakashi snaps before he can stop himself, much to his embarrassment.

“Kakashi…” Minato catches the younger shinobi’s eyes, a pained look in his deep blue eyes. “The Madara you lost might not be the Madara you found.”

“Impossible.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Minato advises as he stands up, “once you are discharged come see me with your mission report and we can discuss this more then.”

In the end Kakashi is given a week’s leave from the ANBU to recover, which is hardly necessary for the minor concussion he’d had, even Rin had agreed with him, but Minato-sensei had held firm. He had claimed it was for the emotional trauma of finding Madara like that, but Kakashi called bullshit; his sensei just wanted him to take it easy for longer.

Life passes by in a blur of missions, and the occasional, reluctant social outing Rin had dragged him along for, until 3 months later Kakashi finds himself being assigned a long-term mission: helping Madara get reacquainted with the village. At first Kakashi is overjoyed, not that he shows it, until he realizes that means Madara is temporarily staying with him and that makes his heart beat painfully. He wants to protest, but he knows Madara doesn’t have anyone to stay with and he couldn’t turn his friend away. Kakashi was sure he could handle it.

Not even a week later, Kakashi knows he was wrong, very, very wrong. If his heart kept skipping beats every time he saw Madara stumbling sleepily into the kitchen or when the Uchiha smiled at him he was going to have a damn heart attack. Then there was also his ever increasing nighttime problems; why did Madara have to invade his dreams and why did he have to be naked in those dreams!? Kakashi was going to have to try harder to ignore the Uchiha, maybe then the stupid dreams would stop.

“I’m moving back in with my clan,” Madara declares one night, nearly 2 weeks after he’s moved into the lonely Hatake household.

“What?” Kakashi mutters, barely hearing his own words over the sound of something in his heart shattering.

“I said I’m going back to my clan.”

“Why?”

“You clearly hate my presence,” Madara grumbles with huff, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting in a manner that shouldn’t be so cute. “You’ve barely spoken to me at all this week and you yell at me almost every morning.”

“I…” Kakashi trails off, not sure how to make Madara stay. “I don’t...that’s not…”

“Spit it out!” Madara snaps, glaring at Kakashi with his one visible black eye. Whatever Orochimaru had done to Madara had grown his eye back and turned the remaining one purple; Kakashi thought the purple suited Madara just fine, but the Uchiha always covered the eye with his hair.

“I don’t hate you,” Kakashi finally manages to spit out, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks, “you can stay.”

“Even if you don’t hate me,” Madara pauses briefly, doubt coloring his words, “you clearly aren’t happy that I’m here.”

“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re not dead,” Kakashi says honestly, knowing he needs to choose his next words carefully so he doesn’t lose the Uchiha, “I’m just not used to…”

“Used to what?”

“Havingacrush!” Kakashi blurts the words in a rush before he can stop himself, startling his older teammate. It takes Madara a minute to decode what he’d just said, but when he does, he can’t help but chuckle.

“Kakashi,” Madara coos, moving to sit next to his teammate and throwing an arm over the other’s shoulders, “that is both the saddest and most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you think you can.” Both shinobi flush darkly at Madara’s unexpected reply as the Uchiha quickly scrambles away. It takes Kakashi several minutes to get over the shock, but when he does he finds Madara across the room, doing his best impression of a startled cat.

“W-what?”

“I said uhh…” Madara mutters, ducking under his hair to avoid making eye contact, “how about dinner?”

“Are you asking me out?” Kakashi asks, unsure if he’s reading the situation right, Rin had told him he wasn’t the best when it came to understanding romantic situations.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

“No.” Kakashi says without any hesitation, knowing he said the right thing when Madara meets his eyes with a brilliant grin.

“Then yes, I am.”