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He whispers into Jiraiya's ear, "You know, Madara /let/ me kiss him."
( @qianshou )
Times like these made Jiraiya grateful for his chakra, able to twist in anger and rage for him and leaving neutral expressions on his face. One thing he’d learned well in war – the anger that simmered underneath a calm facade was the most feared. Did he wish for Hashirama to fear him?
No, he knew that to be useless. What with battered chakra lines and an unbreakable loyalty to the village -- and the Shodaime’s own kin -- but maybe he was looking for fear of a different kind.
“Oh, are we sharing?” came a pointed tease so very sharp in its barbs. “The things Madara lets me do to him, well. I’m sure he would just hate for me to share everything, being such a private man.
“Although, I much prefer it when he asks for them. Leads to incredible satisfaction.”
"Madara can't be loved. He needs to be controlled."
( @qianshou )
Violence thrummed through him, the taste of murder dancing over his tongue. A stoic expression met the Shodaime’s and blood boiled at the mere thought of what respect the title should have held. Instead, Jiraiya found himself sinking teeth into the inside of his cheek to keep from attacking one of the founding members of Konoha.
Wringing the last breath from the man’s throat with his bare hands would have been more than he deserved.
“To control the breath of the living is to kill it or push it to kill you,” a low, steady reply came as he looked down at the notepad in front of him. “This village has already faced the consequences of your attempt at control and too many families grieve their loved ones for me to repeat your mistake.”
