Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She’s hoisted up between two people, men from the feel of their arms against hers. She tries to walk of her own accord but whatever poison they had injected her with made her knees weak and legs give out.

Because of this, they resorted to dragging her between them and she could not remember feeling so humiliated, but maybe that was because she could not think properly. Her thoughts were all jumbled up and she had to concentrate hard enough to make her head hurt in order to think even somewhat coherently.

She was hopeful that someone would be sent after her, but was not so naive as to count on it. She may be the daughter of Madara himself, but Konoha was still at war and needed all the able-bodied and able-minded shinobi she could get. Not to mention that whoever was strong enough, brave enough to capture Uchiha Achiko and imprison her would definitely require much more than an average squad of shinobi to be dealt with.

If they were the same men that she had fought, then putting it into Shikari’s words, it would indeed be troublesome.

Best case scenario, Achiko catches them unaware and massacres all of them, to escape on her own. She’s already gleefully planning the death of the one that had hit her in the back with that Katon Jutsu. That had hurt like a motherfucker, but it appeared that they had at least done first aid. It no longer pulsed in near-agony, but instead throbbed dully with her heartbeat.

That could be a good sign, that they had healed her. It meant that maybe they were planning to let her go. The other possibility was… not so good and the most probable. Healing a prisoner only meant that you wanted information out of them, which would likely be extracted through torture. They would keep her on the brink, alive enough to be coherent and feel the pain being inflicted upon her, but dead enough to not be a threat.

The usage of medical jutsu also allowed for more… intense techniques to be used, the fear of a premature death somewhat voided.

She shivers, trying to not think about what lay in store for her, and focuses resolutely on being aware of her surroundings, searching for any information to help her stage her escape. She would escape, if not for herself, then for her father.

The news of her death would undoubtedly break him. She was the only family he had left, and he did not react well to his family being taken from him. The rumours of what Madara was like after Uncle Izuna’s death were so different from the kind father that she knew, but wholly plausible, even likely.

When Achiko had been kidnapped at the age of 7, Madara had come to get her. She remembers being tied up in the middle of the enemy camp, laying on her side in the dirt. They had struck her for her repeated struggles and attempts to attack them, so she was sporting a broken shoulder and a black eye.

She had been in the middle of trying to find a rock that was somewhat sharp, a task made difficult by her hands bound behind her back, when she heard a scream. Another one joined it, and soon the air was filled with fire and cut-off cries. It had been over within seconds.

Footsteps approached, and she had rolled over with tears shining in her eyes, expecting to see her father looking back at her.

It had indeed been her father, staring at her with wide eyes and shaking hands….but it also hadn’t been. He was covered in blood, that wasn’t unusual for a shinobi, but he was also covered in… guts and gore. She had looked behind him to see the men that had kidnapped her absolutely mauled. Most of them were in pieces, with charred flesh and bloody bones strewn about the impromptu-battleground.

To be honest, it had scared her to see him like this…full of rage and fear.

Madara had kneeled and made quick work of her restraints, gently untying her mouth gag, his eyes widening as he took in her black eye and bruised cheek. She was about to tell him that it was okay, that she’d had worse, and that she was sorry she couldn’t have escaped on her own, but what came out was a pained whimper when he gripped her broken shoulder.

Realization flitted across his eyes, followed by that fiery anger at the same time Achiko noticed a shinobi balanced on a branch behind her father. She recognized him as the one who had left to patrol the perimeter. Fat load of good that did his teammates.

Madara had obviously sensed him as well and attacked the man almost too fast to follow. He had hit with barely suppressed rage fueling his actions. The man was brutally dismembered, and she recalled wondering why Madara didn’t finish it already and if she should go help, despite knowing that she would just get in the way and that he most definitely could handle this on his own. After Madara had burned him to a near-crisp but still continued attacking him, she realized that her father was prolonging his pain. It was obvious he wanted to make him suffer and would not grant the mercy of death so easily. She watched in half horror and half awe as her father continued to torment the man, finally ending it by crushing his heart between his bare fingers.

Afterwards he had come to her, and held her ever so gently in his arms despite her protests that she could run just fine, ignoring the fact that she was weak from being starved and dehydrated. She fell unconscious a few minutes into the run back home to Konoha.

She woke up in the hospital to her father’s worried face, but when they made eye contact, he smiled and it was the same kind smile she had known since birth. It almost made her forget about the other side of him, the side that almost everyone else saw.

As she grew older, she noticed the barely hidden glares and whispers of mistrust that followed him. Her father always acted like they didn’t affect them, but she knew her father well and would notice how he tensed at thinly veiled insults and baleful looks. It made him uncomfortable and unmotivated, she knew. After that, she had taken to going out with her father once a week, doing such domestic things, it was a wonder he agreed in the first place. The first time they went to a mochi store and tried all of the flavors in it. Unknownnst to them, some of them had alcohol in them which ended up with the Uchiha Clan Head and Heir ending up drunk in the Civilian Shopping District, challenging each other to silly competitions and duels. Needless to say, it did not end well for the city infrastructure.

Tobirama had been furious.

Uchiha Madara was fair and kind, but certain circumstances had led him to be bitter and resentful towards the shinobi world which rewarded murderers, thieves and liars. Her father was a man who cared deeply for his family and would do anything for them. She knew her father well, knew his dreams almost as intimately as her own. He wished for peace, to live in a world where his children would not have to grow up fighting for their life in a pointless war. Madara had been open to alliance with the Seju to achieve his goals, if that was what it took, and how lucky (or unlucky) it was that their Clan Leader shared his dream too.

Achiko was shaken out of her introspective thoughts as she was thrown into a cell, different from the one she woke up in. It was still dark and cold, with stone surrounding all sides of it except for the one with thick iron bars, undoubtedly sealed so that they were unbreakable with normal or even chakra-enhanced means.

With all the chakra repressing seals on her, she couldn’t even hope to try and break them down.

It took her an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that there was someone else in the cell with her, but she chose to blame it on lack of chakra sensing and the poison slowing her thoughts down. Achiko drew back, placing herself in the corner of the cell so she at least knew where they wouldn't be coming from.

There wasn’t much else she could do. She’d have to purely rely on taijutsu if her companion turned out to be hostile, and the space was too small to provide any type of advantage in a fight.

“Who’s there?” she ground out, seeing a flicker of motion in the shrouded darkness of the opposite corner.

“Achiko?” a baritone voice asks.

Achiko smiles. She would know that voice anywhere.

“Otou-san.”

Madara emerged from the darkness a little dramatically. He looked to be generally unharmed, if a little worse for wear, his clothes rumpled and armor taken away. Madara looked like a true warrior with his armor on, someone untouchable ready to cut enemies down. His untameable hair coupled with his red eyes and borderline manic expressions always put him a step above everyone else, his power on par with those like Hashirama, who had earned his nickname of “God of Shinobi”. Without his armor he was a strong looking man, but a man nonetheless.

“How the hell did you get caught too?” Achiko complains, slouching down against the wall. She could blame it on being relieved she wouldn’t have to fight her cellmate, but it was more because of how dizzy she was feeling.

Father was here. They could stage an escape between the two of them no problem. It was worrying that he had even been captured in the first place, but Achiko chose to ignore that and focus on the positive.

“Shut up, brat,” Madara says, but there's no bite to it. He seems a little glum if anything. “Injuries?”

“Few scrapes and bruises. I got hit with a really intense Katon, which is what took me out.” Achiko grouses.

Madara looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned.

Achiko plows on.

“Also… Don’t freak out but I’m pretty sure they poisoned me too,” she says, sliding down to sit on the ground. Her headache feels like it's getting worse by the minute, steadily approaching the category of a solid migraine. She tips her head back against the cool wall and glances at Madara, who seems to have paled a few shades.

“Symptoms?” he grits out, clenching his hands, walking towards her.

“ It’s hard to move my body. Loss of control, I guess.” she says, trying to be as medically professional as she can because that was more helpful than just saying everything hurts. That’s what Kagami had said Tobirama had taught them and Achiko was inclined to agree because it made sense. But right now it was hard to recall any type of medical terminology with how her head was pounding.

“Um, uneven breathing… And--” she curses as a particularly sharp stab of pain lances through her head.

Madara crouches down in front of her, raising two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Elevated heart rate,” he mutters, drawing back and resting a hand on her knee, looking to be in thought. “Anything else?”

“And my head, father. It- it hurts so much,” she confesses, crossing her arms, and to her horror feeling tears well up in her eyes. Fuck. She was 17 years old, daughter of Uchiha Madara, Heir to the Uchiha clan, ranked a Jounin, and she would not cry because of a mere headache, dammit.

How could she lead the strong and fearsome Uchiha if she could not even hold her own against her own body? How can she replace her father, when she is nowhere close to the great man he is?

She is torn out of the beginnings of her inner tirade by a gloved hand smoothing down her hair.

“It’ll be okay. You’re strong.” Madara says solemnly.

Achiko wants to ask him how he knows, but that is almost more childish than crying about a headache, so she wipes her tears away and nods firmly.

“Did you see what they gave you?” he asks, moving to sit besides her.

Achiko shakes her head, and then winces. Dammit.

“What’s the verdict?” she asks. Madara was not a poison specialist by any means, but he had a fair amount of knowledge about the topic. All elite shinobi did.

Madara makes a face. “No idea. I’m not even sure if it’s fatal or not.” he admits, his voice doing something funny on the word ‘fatal’.

“Doubtful.” She finds herself saying. “They healed my back, so they obviously want to keep me alive. For something unpleasant probably.”

There’s silence.

“Do you think anyone is going to come for us?” she asks after what is probably a few minutes, but feels longer than that.

“I don’t know. Hashirama, that idiot, would definitely send someone or come himself. But it might take a while to confirm we’re not dead.”

“Hikaku must be having a blast.” she mutters. Should Clan Head and Heir be incapitated, all responsibilities fall to Hikaku, third in line. Speaking from first-hand experience, those duties were not fun.

Madara lets out a particularly harsh exhale that could be counted as a laugh.

“Either Hashirama or Tobirama will be coming,” Madara continues, stretching out his legs. “For someone to have taken both you and me captive…” he trails off, staring at his lap.

Achiko sits up, a question coming into her head that she hadn’t thought to ask for, being too relieved at seeing her father here and unharmed.

“How did you get done in anyways?”

Madara scowls.

“Those bastards got me when I was coming back from a solo mission in Iwa. You know how fucking hard it is to get in and out of their command post without getting caught? I can’t believe Tobirama thought it was best to send me, he knows I can’t do all that sneaky shit that he does. Fucking unbelievable.” he rants.

If anything can cause Madara to get this mad, it’s Tobirama. It’s almost comical. And Madara had a point, he really was terrible at masking his chakra signature or anything related to being quiet. He was much too hot headed for that, preferring to have all the attention on him.

“White Demon, my ass,” Madara mutters. “It’s his fault I’m here.”

“Look on the bright side. At least we get to have father-daughter bonding time. Here. In this cold ass cell.” Achiko tries for a joking tone, but it just comes out as flat and slightly strained.

“You’re cold?” Madara’s head snaps towards her, already shrugging off his long-sleeve.

Achiko’s eyes widen. “Father- no, I’m- it’s fine,” she starts, but it’s too late. He’s already thrown it at her face.

She pulls it off her face and glances warily at him. “Aren’t you gonna be cold then?”

Madara, who is left in just a mesh undershirt, scoffs.

Her father is an idiot. Achiko knows he’s going to be cold, and it’s better if he stays in top condition rather than her, because he is the better fighter anyways, and she is impaired already by the poison coursing through her veins. Even without it, she is nowhere near his level.

She says as much out loud.

Madara’s face does a strange thing. “You are the one suffering from sickness, daughter, not me.”

“If we want to even have a chance of escaping, you should stay at your best,” she responds fiercely, clutching the shirt.

Madara shakes his head slowly, like he does when he’s getting particularly upset about something and is trying to calm down. “I will be fine. I just need to rest.”

“Then rest with your goddamn shirt on! It’s freezing in here and you’ll need it!” she doesn’t shout but it’s a near thing.

Madara hates people raising their voices at him, and he always shouts right back. Nothing compares to how terrifying it is when her father yells. To others it is the booming voice, rank second to only the Hokage, and the knowledge that he could crush them like an ant if he wills it. They fear what he might do to them. To her, it’s just her father yelling at her, and she knows he would never hurt her, but the disappointment and anger is a punishment of its own.

Madara tenses, and glares at her.

“Why won’t you just take the damn shirt, you-” he cuts off, staring at her. “Why are you shivering?”

Belatedly, Achiko realises that she is indeed shivering, her teeth softly clacking together, and her body spasming every once in a while.

“I told you, it’s cold.” she grinds out. It is so cold, and her father is surely going to catch some type of sickness. She doesn’t understand why he won’t put it back on and she doesn’t think can argue with him for much longer, lest she starts crying. The incessant pounding in her head is making it really hard to think and the last thing she wants to do is fight with her father in some dingy cell where some assholes were keeping them captive for who knows what.

Madara’s mouth twists.

“Achiko, it is only a little below what we are used to.” he informs her quietly. The temperature is nowhere near cold enough for your body to react like that, is what he is trying to say.

Fuck. The poison. She can tell Madara has come to the same conclusion, when his fist clenches, knuckles becoming white.

She puts on the shirt without complaint and tries to not feel miserable.

“Have you already searched the cell?” she asks, trying to mask the somber mood. She already knows he did. Her father is thorough like that, a perfect example of what a shinobi should be… well tactically speaking.

“Yeah. No cracks. Security seals on everything.” he mumbles

“Are they Uzushio grade?” she asks, her tongue slipping on the words, slurring them together. She hopes Madara didn’t notice.

He definitely did, going off the worried glance he gives her.

“No. But they are strong enough that I can’t break them, even with what little chakra I have left.” he says. “Goddamn copycats. I should just leave these fools to Mito.”

There’s another long silence in which Madara is probably thinking about strategies and Achiko is trying breathing exercises, forcing her body to stay calm.

It only half works, because she starts to feel drowsy, eyelids becoming heavy. She doesn’t know if it is the poison's influence or just her body’s natural response to dealing with her exhaustion and injuries.

A harmless nap could turn into something she would never wake up from. Sleep was out of the question.

Achiko looks over to Madara who is now sitting in the middle of the cell in an obvious meditating posture.

She rolls her eyes. Of course Madara would be able to meditate–which required one to be at peace with himself and his surroundings–in an enemy cell. Achiko studied him, not having seen him in a week or two due to the war. His hair was just as unruly as ever, and body just as fit. His skin seemed no more scarred than she remembered. She frowned, remembering the amount of controversy around them.

Scars were something to be proud of in her opinion. She knew many people hid their scars because they felt that they were unsightly to look at or made them weak. They were ashamed. Father had taught her that scars were badges of bravery, and each one told a story or situation that it’s bearer overcame. They made you strong, proved your hardships and experiences. Her father had many and she had a fair amount herself.

Did that make them weak?

Did having scars make Uchiha Madara, dubbed the Ghost of the Uchiha, The God of Shinobi’s battle partner, first person to unlock the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan weak?

No, it didn’t.

She shut her eyes as a sudden pang of nausea rang in her skull.

The bone-deep exhaustion is coming in harder the longer she stays still and it does not help that the cell is cold, and Madara’s shirt is warm. She’s not shivering uncontrollably anymore, serving to make her sleepier. She needs to move but it would be difficult to get up, and her legs could not carry her weight last time so they would not now either. It's not even worth trying to see if movement is possible.

As an effort to keep herself awake, Achiko starts counting the number of stone bricks making up the adjacent wall. It was boring but she keeps an eye outside the cell as well.

It happens so quickly, she barely even realizes she fell asleep. The intervals between each blink getting longer and longer until her eyes close and breaths even out.

///

She wakes up to Madara shaking her, his face drawn with fear. The sudden movement does nothing to help her headache, and for a second she gets a telling feeling in the back of her throat.

“Madara,” she manages to get out, holding back vomit. “Stop. Shaking.”

His hands withdraw from her shoulders, and he quietly says “You weren’t responding when I called.”

Trembling fingers grasp her wrist, either to console her or check her pulse, she doesn’t know. It is a small form of comfort for both.

“You need to stay awake.” he says tightly.

Her father slots himself next to her, still holding onto her arm. Madara usually isn’t one for physical touch. She is told he used to be back when Uncle was alive. Apparently, he also smiled more and generally had an air of happiness about him.

The Madara she knew was a completely different person. Of course he still smiles and laughs, but those have become rarer and rarer as the war drags on. He is a shell of what he used to be, a melancholy remnant of his old spirit.

She can see it in the crow’s feet at his eyes, the tightness around his mouth, or maybe that’s just worry and stress.

A tickling feeling is at the back of her throat, and she turns her head away, covering her mouth only for a cough to bubble up.

After the coughing bout ends, she pulls her hand away to find it is sticky with something slick. Something else drips down her chin, and her heart drops.

Coughing up blood most likely means whatever they injected her with was slowly shutting her body down, eventually stopping her heart. It is a sign she doesn’t have much time left.

“We need to get out of here right now. We can’t wait for them.” Madara looks even more scared than she is. Who is he referring to? The rescue squad or perhaps their captors?

“I can’t walk… much less run.” she breathes, trying to stay calm. She’s never really seen him this frightened before, and she thinks that she should remember this, her sharingan flickering on.

“Stop using your sharingan. Save your energy.” her father snaps, and gets up to stand in front of the bars.

“You won’t be able to break them.”

“I know.” Madara says grimly. “I’m overloading them with nature chakra.”

Her brain manages to make the connection between his meditating and acquiring of nature chakra. She feels shame wash over her. Why did she assume Madara was wasting time when in reality he was focusing on their escape, doing far more than she could ever hope of doing in a situation like this.

Achiko watches her father grip the bars and even with her sharingan off, she can see the pure chakra flow through his body and arms, directly into the iron . She shields her eyes as the sealed bars start to glow red hot, and is immediately glad she did because the bars snap apart with a bang and a flare of heat.

Pieces and shards of iron rain around her

Her ears are ringing a little, so it takes her a second to hear Madara heaving great big breaths, like his lungs can’t get enough air. He stumbles over to her, kneeling in front, his back towards her.

She gets on, attempting to wrap her legs around his torso, but her lower half is sluggish and weak. It feels like a cruel mockery of how she used to hang off her father like a bear when she was young. Her arms are thankfully cooperating, so they cross over his collarbone.

He hikes up her knees, and takes off at a brisk, chakra-unassisted run, most likely saving what little he has left for the inevitable fights that are to come. She can feel the muted thumps of his speeding heart against her chest, his heavy inhales and exhales, and the blood dripping down from her mouth and nose. She goes to bury her face in his thick hair, and then just as quickly twists her head away as wet coughs wrack her body. More blood comes up and she can just about feel herself choking on it, thick and heavy in her throat.

Madara runs faster, as if spurred on by her fit, and the wind whips at her face which combined with the continuous jolts from his feet hitting the ground serve to make her feel even more sick and disoriented.

Achiko knows she should have more faith in her father and maybe even in herself, but the situation is not looking so good right now. It is almost a guarantee that they will run into the enemy. Under normal conditions, Madara and Achiko wouldn’t even be in this situation, but she got overwhelmed by several jounin and her father was coming back from a mission-gone-bad at full speed, likely running on fumes. Under normal conditions, they would probably make it out in minutes. But she is suffering from an unknown poison, one that is fast acting, and can barely stand on her own and Madara will have to protect her while his body recovers from breaking the cell bars and repressed chakra, on top of being exhausted.

In a fight, she would be useless, a liability for her already weakened father has to cover for. It would be so easy to kill her. It is very unlikely they will both leave alive.

She considers the morbid thought of committing suicide so that Madara is not burdened with her, but decides against it. Madara would bring her back just to kill her himself. It sounds extreme, but is entirely plausible if he uses that top-secret reanimation jutsu that Tobirama has been working on. Then there’s the issue of what her idiot father would do without her. No, suicide is not an option.

Achiko can only pray that they won’t run into anyone and hope that they will make it out in one piece.

////

Her prayers go unanswered as Madara skids around a corner and just barely dodges a flying kunai. It manages to pass through his long hair, slicing through a section and some black strands flutter down.

Her father drops into a defensive stance, a hand coming out from under her knee to hover at his side. She knows that if she weren’t here, he would’ve already blitz attacked them.

Achiko wipes the blood away from her face, and looks up as well, her vision somewhat blurry.

A man, flanked by a squad of shinobi, stands at the end of the hallway, His hita-ae identifies him as a shinobi of Iwagakure, which coincidentally is the nation Konoha was at war with. Go figure.

The Iwa shinobi, who is standing at the front, appears to be the leader. He doesn’t look particularly threatening, he is neither big and muscled nor scarred and worn. He is just a man, unassuming and dressed in a regular uniform. Nothing to identify him as special ops or anything other than a regular shinobi, other than the long katana strapped to his back. Most likely a kenjutsu specialist then.

“Madara and Achiko.” He says, rolling the names out, like he’s getting a feel for them.

Madara tenses and Achiko tries to focus on breathing.

“Move out of my way, otherwise I will make you move.” Madara warns, his grip on her knee tightening.

Achiko’s vision is not clear enough to tell how many nin are standing behind him, but she knows it’s too many. Her being out of commission lowers the chances of winning from slim to none.

Her body chooses this moment to send her into a coughing fit. When she is done, her breaths rattle and blood slides down Madara’s shoulder. Madara doesn’t move, he is still and glowers at the opposition.

The man’s gaze lands on her.

“Looks like your daughter is in need of medical assistance,” he continues, completely ignoring her father and staring at Achiko instead.. “ We can help her, if you give us something in return.”

“You are the ones who made her like this!” Madara snarls, stepping forward. “Get. Out. Of my way.”

The man’s attention snaps to her father.

“Or what?” he scoffs.

“Or I’ll kill all of you fools, what else?” Madara snaps, patience obviously running thin.

“Forgive me, but I don’t think you’re in any condition to fight, much less win against us Madara-sama.” he mocks, teeth glinting in the low light.

“You will choke on those words.” Madara promises. His free hand reaches up to touch Achiko’s forearms, both a command and an apology.

She slides off his back, and almost topples over, and only just manages to catch herself. Standing is so hard, and all she wants to do is hide on her father’s back and fall asleep.

Her normal self would be mortified at those thoughts.

Her father straightens up to his full height, and crosses his arms. She almost misses the enemy shinobi uneasily glancing at each other. Her father’s power is well-known throughout the lands and he is an intimidating figure, even without armor. A bit of pride bleeds into her nausea.

The man is watching all of this unfold and starts to laugh. It’s sudden, and she tenses expecting an attack, but instead he just shakes his head.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we can do this the hard way or the easy way.” he drawls, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Come with us and give us information and we will heal your daughter.”

Madara seems to seriously be considering this offer, and Achiko is about to open her mouth to dissuade him, hoping she won’t choke on blood, when she sees a glint of something in the man’s hands.

A needle, she realizes.

Her body moves and a hand reaches back behind her, where the kunai from before is embedded. Flaring her sharingan, she pinpoints the correct trajectory and throws.

The two collide in midair and drop, the needle being thrown with enough force to stop a kunai, albeit a weakly thrown one. It’s actually quite embarrassing, but it’s all the strength she could muster.

Her father whips his head around to her, his evolved mangekyo burning. She barely manages a small half smile, before he is gone, throwing himself at his enemies. The sounds of screaming men and rushing fire wash over her and she slumps against the wall.

Achiko fiercely wills herself not to pass out as her eyesight wavers. Fuck, activating her sharingan had absolutely drained whatever meager chakra she had.

She feels a displacement of air in front of her, and instinctively ducks as a short sword is stabbed into the stone above her.

A shinobi with a nasty scar running diagonally across his face sneers at her.

“You bitch!” he growls, pulling his sword from the wall and slicing downward.

She rolls out of the way and staggers to feet, a hand on the wall for support. Legs feeling stronger than before, she decides to try a kick and plants one on the middle of his chest as he is advancing towards her. It was solid enough to almost make him drop his sword, but it wasn’t quite enough. Damnit.

He advances at her, swiping left and right and it is all Achiko can do to dodge, the difference between her and the blade shortening each time. The only thing keeping her alive right now is his frankly terrible form and predictable body movements. Her luck won’t hold out forever though. She may be the more experienced one, but her body is still weak and it is only a matter of time before he gets a hit in due to her slow reactions.

Gathering up all the remaining energy she has, she drops to her feet and sweeps his feet out from under him. His balance is terrible due to his form - does this man know how to wield a sword properly - and her shaky kick is enough to knock him over. His head bounces off the floor, momentarily stunning him.

Achiko sees her chance and takes it, wrestling the sword - a tanto - out of his grasp with a surprising amount of strength. She twirls it around and plunges it into his chest cavity, yanking it back out with a wet squelch and a spray of blood.

She goes to get up and collapses backwards, sword almost slipping out of her hand. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her upright and now that the immediate danger is gone, her body is crashing again. Her limbs feel like lead and even her forgotten-burn hurts now.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Madara fighting with a vengeance as he always does, an impressive amount of bodies behind him. With his chakra sealed away, he can only use taijutsu, which he excels at but only because he plays dirty. All is fair in war, though. She watches as he uses a corpse impaled on a stolen sword as a shield against a Suiton Jutsu, and Achiko could almost laugh at his expression. All Suiton Jutsus remind her father of Tobirama and he always makes the same pinched face when dealing with them.

He impales the Suiton user on the same sword as his comrade, and then drops, spinning around to perform a heel strike on a kunai-wielding foe. He hits him at an angle that pushes the nose into the brain which causes instant death. The body is thrown at a shinobi who is obviously prepping a jutsu. He is met with a dead teammate and a devastating kick that just about knocks his head off.

Somebody throws shuriken combined with lightning, and Madara leans out of the way slower than usual. A couple nick him on the shoulder. Her father does not stop fighting but she knows that these types of injuries will drain him. He’s obviously tiring, and he cannot hold everyone back, despite his best efforts. He is but one man.

As he turns to avoid a barrage of kunai, she catches sight of his face.

His eyes are black.

True to her predictions, two slip past him after a planned attack which knocks him off kilter and head straight for her. She stares and then grits her teeth. She refuses to die like this, so she sits up and tightens her hold on the sword.

Raising her left arm, she throws the tanto in an arc, aiming to take two heads off with one swipe. But right when the handle leaves her fingers, she knows she threw it wrong. Not enough power. It won’t be fast enough to take the two by surprise, and the trajectory is all wrong.

She watches helplessly as one one of them knocks it away.

Madara looks back at the same moment the blade clatters uselessly on the ground which gives someone, the leader, to run his sword through her father’s gut. It goes clean through. Madara wheezes and clocks him hard across the face. He sinks to one knee, a hand on his abdomen. The wound is already dripping blood, pooling around him.

She screams for her father, choking on blood halfway through.

The last thing she sees is him slump forward, before she loses consciousness.

Chapter Text

Achiko regains consciousness slowly. The first thing she becomes aware of is the pain. Her body is weak and burning like it is only when she’s sick. It feels like she has a high fever. There’s something wrong with her lungs too. They wheeze with each shallow breath and seem… clogged, for lack of a better word.

When her memories start to flow back, her eyes snap open.

She’s met with the shocking sight of her father chained to the wall across from her. The image is so wrong that she immediately tries to get up, only to find herself shackled down as well. Further observation proves that the tilted surface is some type of table, similar to the ones in the operating ward of Konoha's hospital.

She tries the cuffs on her wrists and ankles but they don’t budge.

Achiko looks to Madara who has an indifferent expression but the unusual paleness of his face gives away his true emotions. Her eyes methodically scan his body, looking for any signs of torture. They come to rest upon a hastily stitched up section of his abdomen which she recognizes as the stab wound from earlier. The jagged skin is red and inflamed but the stitches are even enough so that her father is not bleeding out anymore, which is something she is grateful for.

The injury would have been fatal if he hadn’t received medical attention.

Feeling faint at the mere thought of waking up to a dead father, Achiko finishes looking over Madara. There are many bruises and shallow cuts littering his body but none seem to be torture-inflicted. One particularly deep slice in his shoulder worries her, but it is nothing compared to the sewn up hole in his gut. All of the injuries are probably from the fight in the hallway. The same fight where she had only taken out one measly shinobi and then, after failing to take out another two which led to Madara being injured, proceeding to faint like some damsel in distress. She winces at the thought, but before she can begin to berate herself, Madara speaks up.

“Oi,” he says, and he could almost pass for bored if his body wasn’t so tense. “Can you feel your chakra?”

Achiko tilts her head, considering. She attempts to reach deep into herself, tries to access her chakra. But where there had been a huge storm of roiling chakra, there was a wall. No matter how hard she tried to break it or go around, it did not waver, did not crumble. It effectively cut off her chakra from being used in any way, reducing her capabilities to a mere civilian.

Her eyes meet Madara’s and she shakes her head tiredly, nausea flaring up at the motion. He didn’t really react outwardly, but his presence seemed to deflate.

There was no doubt that his chakra was sealed away as well.

Chakra repression seals allowed the wearer to still be able to mould chakra, as it only siphoned and slowed the flow. It was very difficult, but skilled shinobi could get around it and use a little chakra at the risk of exhausting themselves.

The reason repression seals were structured like this was to keep the wearers chakra coils somewhat healthy or at the least, alive. Sealing away all chakra ran the coils dry and being in such a situation for a prolonged amount of time ran the very high risk of burnt out coils, which rendered a shinobi incapable of moulding chakra forever or -in most cases- dead. Although for some there was no difference. Being able to use chakra defined a shinobi's whole career and without it, and well… Many people preferred to be dead rather than useless.

With dry coils, using nature chakra wouldn’t work. Madara could accumulate some but would not be able to transform it into something useful.

There goes any chance at breaking out.

“Well…” Achiko sighed.“Hashirama and Tobirama should be here soon, at least.”

Or so she hoped.

Madara’s eyebrow twitches at the mention of Tobirama, but he remains quiet.

She’s about to start examining their cell when Madara opens his mouth, then hesitates.

“Achiko,” he starts, looking wildly uncomfortable. “We need to… acknowledge the possibility of torture.”

Achiko marvels at how nonchalant he sounds, even if there is an undercurrent of fear underneath his words. She swallows down her own fear.

“I don’t know which one of us they will target, but that man mentioned information.” he continues, looking grim. “It might be about the sharingan or Konoha, but either way we cannot let them have it.”

Achiko nods, a sharp jerk of the chin. It makes sense of course. That information, if in the wrong hands, could lead to many unnecessary deaths. Two lives to save countless more was barely a choice at all.

She refuses to think about dying.

Although she would. For Konoha. For the Uchiha.

(‘Would you live for your father?’ A voice asks, whispering deviously in her ear. She hesitates for longer than she would like to admit.)

“Understood.” she says, trying to sound brave and in control, two things that she does not feel at all.

Tobirama had given her training on how to resist torture, but training is different than actually going through it. What if they hurt Madara? He never trained her on how to withstand loved ones being hurt right in front of her . She doesn’t know if she can watch Madara go through that.

Madara must have heard something in her voice because he turns away, and she can see his jaw clench.

Fuck. This whole situation is terrible and shitty and she would rather deal with the Uchiha elders for entire weeks than be here. She doesn’t even know if Tobirama and Hashirama are coming for sure.

However, it won’t help anyone if she gets caught up in her fear and misery.

So Achiko searches the room with her eyes for any weaknesses, anything that could help. She cannot use her sharingan but her eyes still pick up the small seals etched into the stone walls at each corner. Their purpose is unknown, most likely to reinforce the cell. They were definitely the work of some arrogant sealer who thought of themselves as a seals-master, if the strong brushstrokes and clumsy execution are anything to go by .

Mito-san would take offense if she ever saw any of these.

She tries her restraints again, which are solid metal. Nothing short of a chakra assisted yank would break them.

Frustrated, she thumps the back of her head against the slab of metal she’s restrained to. It sends a shock of pain down her spine, but she’s already focused trying to move her legs. They barely twitch and her mood dampens further.

It would’ve been too much to hope for their captors to give her the antidote to the poison. A trickle of fear runs through her body. She doesn’t have long until the poison runs its course. Even now, she can feel her arms become more numb and unresponsive. It leaves her feeling lethargic, like she has just woken up from a nap in the sun.

Her emotions vacillate between fear and anger.

Why hasn’t anyone come to see them? Is this some sort of psychological trick?

She vows to make their deaths as painful as possible, especially the leader.

One glance at Madara’s face and she can tell he’s thinking the same thing. Her lips quirk up. Good.

Her face falls as an unbidden thought crosses her mind.

Should she say something to him? In case it all goes to hell and she really does end up dying.

All active shinobi in Konoha are required to have a will, and she does have letters written out to everyone important to her (the papers are wrinkled with long since dried tears.) But she doesn’t want her father to be unsure about her love for him, doesn’t want her last words to him to be read off a paper.. She wants him to know how much she looks up to him, how much she cherishes his words and opinions, even through their fights and arguments.

Before she can say anything, the iron door in the corner clanks and her eyes latch onto it. Madara’s chains rattle as he does the same, head twisting to see the door open.

A blonde man, who she recognizes as the leader, steps in. He saunters into the middle of the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.

He just stands there, doing nothing and Achiko is so done with all of this mentally psyching out bullshit.

“Hey, asshole!” she snaps, seething internally.

His head swivels towards her in a way that is reminiscent of an owl.

He smiles at her, lips curling up into a pleased grin.

“A little uncalled for, don’t you think?” he says conversationally, walking towards her. He flips out a kunai.

“The only thing uncalled for is you still breathing,” she snipes, tensing against the metal cuffs.

The first thing Tobirama had taught her was to make the enemy mad. Angry people make mistakes, mistakes help you survive.

His eyes narrow. He’s close enough to touch her now.

“You know, you remind me of my sister,” he says thoughtfully, stopping right next to her. He peers down at her through blank eyes and grabs a hold of her leg.

Her heart skips a beat.

“I hate my sister,” he says, and then brings the kunai down into her thigh.

Achiko can’t help the almost animalistic grunt that escapes her at the explosion of pain.

She can hear chains rattling and Madara shouting. Breathing through the pain doesn’t work since her lungs won’t take in enough air. Her inhales are too shallow, too fast.

Achiko can feel a cough building at the back of her throat.

“Oops,” the man grins, and she wants to rip his head off with her teeth.

“It slipped,” he explains casually, like he’s excusing his tardiness to somebody. Then he twists and her vision whites out a bit at the edges.

Achiko’s body involuntarily tries to writhe away from the pain. Tears roll down her cheeks and she hacks out a cough, blood spurting out of her mouth.

“Fuck... you,” she breathes out.

He laughs and then backhands her across the face. Her vision splits into two.

The kunai is still lodged in her thigh.

“Language, young one,” he chides, then turns around to face Madara. “Didn’t you teach her any manners? As Clan heir or whatever I would’ve thought-”

“I will strive to make your death as painful as possible,” Madara cuts him off, glaring. His gaze flickers over to Achiko and she blinks at him.

His face is sheet white.

The blonde man only raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you will,” he says placidly like he’s talking to a young child.

He turns back around to her and she tenses, waiting for another hit.

It doesn’t come.

“Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself yet!” he huffs, clapping his hands together. “You can call me Hiroshi, of the former Karma clan,”

Madara’s eyes widen and realization dawns on his face, along with something like… wariness?

It doesn’t escape Hiroshi’s notice and he smirks.

“Ah, so you remember? What about you, my dear?” He smooths down Achiko’s hair and she jerks away, glaring at him through blurred vision.

Madara says nothing, staring at her with such an intensity, she wonders if he’s trying to convey some secret message with his eyes.

There’s a shock of something in her thigh and she realizes that Hiroshi yanked out the kunai in her leg. She barely felt it, which is worrying for a lot of reasons. Now that the obstruction is gone, blood freely seeps down her leg. It also means that her body is approaching the threshold of pain it can bear. Normally, a single stab wound would not even phase her, but the poison was sapping away her strength and shutting down her already chakra-depleted body.

“Well, it doesn't matter. We were a small clan, so it makes sense for you to not know of us.” he smiles, poison leaking into his words. He lightly drags the bloodied kunai on her skin and she stiffens. “Let me tell you a story, hm? Maybe it will… educate you.”

“You see, our home was in Kusa. Despite being a neutral clan, we were frequently brought into your war with Iwa. We lost many shinobi to your forces, who mistook us for Iwa nin. My sister…” he falters, looking wistful. “My sister, she was the head of our small clan. She was a brat and I hated her, but she was a good leader and did not want her clan to die because of someone else’s war.”

He pauses and the cell is quiet, save for ragged breathing and a plopping sound. Achiko dimly realizes that it’s her blood dripping onto the floor.

“She sent me to Konoha to broker an alliance with them. Before I left, she seemed… unhinged somehow, muttering about prolonged suffering and the sort.” he stops again, and looks at Madara. “I was turned away at the gates and returned without any success. When I… returned, I found my clan burned to the ground, corpses littering the roads. My wife, my child…” his voice breaks and then he screams at Madara. “My sister sent me away because she knew YOU would be there! She… she protected me!”

Hitoshi lunges at Madara, pinning him on the wall with a forearm at his neck. The blonde man is breathing hard, like he had run the length of Fire Country.

“Tell me! Why did we have to get caught in the crossfire? Tell me, Madara of the Uchiha!” he thunders, chest heaving.

“She allied with Iwa and waged a war in her own compound.There was no crossfire to get caught in.” her father bites out. “My guess is she sent you to Konoha to die at our hands. What a fool.”

Hiroshi seems to be frozen in place, staring at her father.

Quicker than her eyes can follow, the blonde cocks back his fist and punches Madara across the face. She hears something crack.

“You LIAR!”

Her father spits out a glob of blood and turns his neck back to face the obviously enraged man.

“Your sister obviously went mad. Konoha received word of the alliance between your clan and Iwa days before you arrived at the gates.” he barks, looking furious. His nose looks a little crooked. “Why do you think we turned you away?”

Hiroshi shakes his head and backs away from her father.

“Even now, faced with your actions, you choose to lie and save face. You do not feel the least bit guilty, do you Madara?” Hiroshi chuckles, sounding haunted. “No matter.”

Achiko bites off a whimper as several shuriken suddenly embed themselves in the meat of her shoulder. She can feel one grating against her actual bone when she draws in a shaky breath.

Madara is straining against his bindings, snarling at Hiroshi.

Hiroshi just laughs and it really does sound unhinged. Seems like going mad runs in the family.

“Afterwards, I aligned what was left of the clan with Iwa.” his eyes narrow at Madara, who is still yanking on his restraints. “Tell me, how could I do that if we had an alliance with them already? They had never even heard of us before.”

“They are playing you, you FOOL!” Madara bellows, chains clanking.

At this, something changes in Hiroshi’s demeanor.

“SHUT UP!” Hiroshi roars, grabbing her fathers throat between his hands. Her father wheezes as the blonde’s fingers squeeze his windpipe.

Achiko chokes out a small “Stop!” before hacking up a wave of blood. She is bleeding from too many places, too much blood loss. Already feeling faint, she wonders how long she has left until her body gives up.

To her surprise, he actually does stop, pale hands retreating back into his pockets, leaving her father spluttering for air.

“Thank you Achiko-chan.” he says, primly. She shivers at the familiar honorific leaving his mouth. It sounds wrong, too cruel. “I almost forgot that I’m not allowed to kill Madara-sama here. You on the other hand… well Iwa only gave me instructions on how to deal with your father. It would be good if you died, though. Much less deaths for Iwa.” he muses.

He turns to Madara who is stock still, his face blank. Achiko almost winces. His face , devoid of emotion, is almost more telling than if he were to actually display fear. Hiroshi may be insane, but he was definitely not stupid .

“If you kill her, I’ll-,” Madara begins carefully only to be cut off by Hiroshi.

“Oh, spare me the details. I’m not going to kill her.” he says breezily. “Not if you answer my questions. I need information.”

Madara opens his mouth, clearly about to dismiss the notion entirely when Hiroshi speaks up again.

“I think I forgot to mention that the poison running through her veins right now will kill her in a few hours. If you give me what I need, I’ll consider giving her the antidote.” he grins at Madara, all teeth and venom.

Achiko’s heart drops. They can’t give any type of information to these people. It would no doubt lead to countless deaths and… it just wasn’t worth it.

Madara’s face pales considerably, eyes flicking between her sorry form and the puddle of blood that has accumulated beneath her. She knows it looks bad (it feels even worse) but wills him to stay strong.

“What kind of information?” Madara grinds out, glaring at Hiroshi who knowingly smiles. That… that was not good. Achiko wasn’t actually expecting him to give in.

“Konoha military tactics, plans and a detailed roster, as well as any useful information regarding Tobirama and his genin team.” Hiroshi says like he’s reciting something he memorized.

“And if I don’t know?” Madara mutters, which prompts Hiroshi to burst into laughter.

“Of course you do Madara!” He swats her father on the back like he didn’t try to choke the life out of him a couple minutes ago.

The interaction bears an eerie resemblance to how Hashirama would talk to Madara, and it brings a bitter taste to her mouth to even admit that. This man may have Hashirama’s mannerisms but he will never be him; Hashirama and his blindingly good personality, the innate kindness that literally radiates from him. This man was filled to the brim with pain and the desire for revenge, bitter darkness.

Achiko finds herself missing her uncle a little. He would make her laugh through her pain as he always did, ever since she was young, with his sense of humor and dumb antics.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts (wishing won’t do any good right now), she speaks up, voice haggard.

“He’s not going to tell you,” she croaks. Madara was only second in importance to Hashirama and an experienced leader, of course he would be involved in battle strategizing.The ignorant approach would do nothing to help them, it was better to just outright deny the information. Besides, Hiroshi seemed to have a thing against liars.

The blonde man looks to Madara, as if to confirm what she said. When Madara only purses his lips, staying silent, Hiroshi sighs contentedly.

“I was hoping you would say no,” he says, voice filled with glee. He walks over to her and Madara watches, eyes burning with an emotion she can’t identify.

Achiko is so out of it from pain and blood loss right now, she can’t even bring herself to be wary.

“You see, no one else wanted to take this mission because they were all afraid of you. Me? I don’t care if you kill me. I just want to make you feel the same pain that I felt, having my family ripped away from me.”

Achiko’s eyes narrow and she glares with all she has left. “How dare you assume my father hasn’t... already felt that pain? He has gone... through more than you ever will, you...you bast-,” she cuts off when he slaps her, stars explode in her head.

“Izuna right? That’s too bad. My condolences- really!” he says, faux-sympathy dripping from his words. He addresses her father. “I understand how it feels, thanks to you. What really surprised me though, is how you went and played house with his murd-”

“SHUT your MOUTH, vermin!” Madara roars and it’s enough to make the blonde man listen, mouth clamping shut, a startled look on his face. It only lasts for a second, then it’s gone and replaced by mirth.

“Oh, so you actually do care!” he almost purrs. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure with all the dishonor you’ve done to his name.” he leans towards him, like he is sharing a secret, even though Madara is chained to the opposite wall. “They say you’ve been sleeping with Tobirama.”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, she would’ve laughed at the look on her father’s face, how it went from furious to appalled, then back.

“You’ve lost a brother, but I want you to feel the pain of losing a daughter. As I did.” Hiroshi continues. “You don’t have a wife, so watching her die in front of you should be… sufficient. Only then will I acknowledge your pain as equal to mine. However,” his lips curl in distaste “If you answer the questions I asked, I will torture her within an inch of her death, but she will remain alive.”

Madara doesn’t say anything, just focuses on her, like he’s trying to brand the image of her into his brain.

She offers a hesitant smile, and then she sees a blur before a crack resonates in the dim cell and pain flares up from her leg. Her shin burns and through the haze of pain, she realizes that it’s broken clean through. It's manageable, she tells herself, trying to breath evenly through the throbbing .

A calloused hand closes around the soft skin of her throat and she chokes on air as it tightens and a voice coos. “Let’s wipe that smile off that pretty face, shall we?”

He releases her and something digs into the open wound in her thigh, and it hurts so much. She writhes with pain and it steals her breath away, she can’t breathe she can’t breatheshe can’tshecan’tbreathe she can’t-

A sizzling sound fills the air and the shoulder that is not embedded with shuriken burns. Madara roars in the background, like she has never heard before. It’s deafening, filling up the whole cell with an intense spike of killing intent and she wishes he would stop.

“This is your fault Madara,” Hiroshi says unapologetically, holding a… red hot iron poker in his hands. No, that isn't a poker… The end is rounded and flattened, bearing some sort of insignia, which looks somewhat like a clan symbol. Did he just… brand her?

She almost giggles in delirium, shock washing over her. It would explain why Madara is so upset and the smell of burnt flesh currently permeating the air.

“Tell me what I need to know. Or don’t. It doesn’t particularly matter to me,” Hiroshi says, clearly savoring the distress Madara is in. He idly twirls the brand in his hand.

Her father looks livid.

“When I’m done with you, you will be BEGGING for DEATH! Do you hear me?” he bellows, his deep voice breaking.

Hiroshi just smirks and reaches towards her hand. She has enough sense to clench her hand, balling it into a fist as tight as she can, which is admittedly not that tight. Her muscles feel dead and her bones ache something fierce.

She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to do this but she won’t beg for mercy. Not now. Not ever, not to scum like him.

Her eyes close as her fingers are forced open and a kunai is stabbed through her palm. It blends in with the other pain she is in, so she doesn’t scream too much. Blood escapes her lips, a steady stream flowing down her chin. Her eyelids feel heavy and her head lolls forward, tangled hair falling forward to shadow her vision.

She can distantly hear her father switching between threats to Hiroshi and fervently pleading with her to stay awake. His voice is comforting.

As Hiroshi breaks her first finger, her consciousness slips away.

///

Achiko wakes up to Hiroshi shouting at her father, who is screaming right back. He is still chained, although his wrists and ankles are bloodied, no doubt from pulling at the cuffs too much. He looks the same as before, which gives her pause. Isn’t she supposed to be dead?

Then she feels the pain which confirms that yes, she is alive, and then the shaking. Booms resonate around her, like multiple explosion tags are being set off. Hopefully they are.

Her body catches up to her brain and she glances down, trying to catalogue her injuries. She gives up, there are too many, and it’s not that she would be of much use fighting anyways. There is a disturbing amount of blood beneath her, she notes.

Voices filter in, distinguishing themselves from the faint screaming and rumbling in the background.

“-tell me! Otherwise-”

“If you kill my daughter, I will have no reason to tell you anything!” Madara snarls, looking panicked.

“I plan to kill her anyways! Scum like you-”

“If you- I swear I will make you live the rest of your life in agony! I will bring back your family a hundred thousand times only to kill them in front of you!” Madara roars.

Her vision clears just enough that she can make out something shiny on Madara’s face. It takes her a moment to place them as dried tear tracks. Her eyes widen.

“Shut up about that Sharingan bullshit!” a red-faced Hiroshi shouts.

The thundering sound of footsteps draws closer and something changes in Hiroshi’s face. Madara must realize it too because his eyes widen, and he tries to throw himself at the blonde man.

He snaps around and lunges towards her, flipping out a kunai.

Madara jerks against his chains, screaming at him to stop, just as the door blows open.

Achiko flinches back, as a blur of blue wrenches the kunai upwards, knocking it off it’s trajectory to her heart.

At the same time, the vision in her right eye goes out, accompanied with a shock of red-hot pain. A shriek is wrangled from her torn up throat.

“Shit.” Tobirama curses, slitting Hiroshi’s throat, who has a startled expression on his face. Tobirama drops the corpse as Hashirama runs in, covered in blood. He stops at seeing both Achiko and Madara shackled and bleeding. His eyes take in both of their tear-streaked faces and his face darkens, his eyes narrowing as he stalks towards Madara.

Achiko blinks and Tobirama is in front of her removing her cuffs, then catching her as she pitches off the table. The movement jars her wounds and she suppresses a groan.

He lays her down on the warm ground (isn’t stone supposed to be cold) and holds his hands, glowing soft green, over her stomach. She can feel his chakra seep into her, her dry coils sucking it up eagerly. His sharp features twist into a frown as calls over his shoulder.

There’s the rustle of chains clanking in the background, then stumbling footsteps as Madara kneels next to her. He looks at her, desperation and fear etched into his face. His trembling hands rise to cup her own.

Achiko musters all the strength she has left to lift her unbroken hand, going to touch her father’s face to comfort him. However, seeing out of one eye is something she is unused to, her depth perception being thrown off. She misses by a good margin, fingers swiping his chin instead of his cheek.

Madara’s eyes are filled with concern as he grasps her hand in his own, flattening it against his cheek. It feels sticky with salt and sweat underneath her palm.

It grounds her, a solid thing to focus on.

His mouth moves, but it’s like Achiko is on the other side of a waterfall. She can’t hear him at all and Madara seems to notice , his fingers tightening on hers. He fiercely says something to Tobirama across her body, and the white-haired man nods, red eyes resolutely staring down at her torso.

Is she dying?

A familiar face comes in view behind Tobirama, her red hair almost painful to look at. Achiko wearily tracks her with one eye as Mito crouches down and pushes up the blood-soaked shirt to her ribs, face hardened. Mito places a hand on her navel, mouth moving. Madara glances at her and lets go of her hand, gently setting it down.

She wants to ask why, wants him to come back, but he’s already moving away from her prone body.

As soon as he looks away, vines come up to secure her wrists and ankles down and her heart stutters. When a thick one goes around her torso, she moves, twisting her body from side to side, even though it hurts to do so. She’s fairly certain tears are leaking out of her good eye and why are they restraining her still?

A pulse of hot chakra erupts from her stomach, burning fire down her nerves, and her brain shuts-off at the sensation. It feels like she’s being burned alive, being doused in fire and it’s agony, not being able to do anything.

Achiko has been through so much already and she doesn’t know if she can survive this. 

She dimly realizes that she’s wailing, screams being dragged out of her throat.

She pleads for them to stop, whoever is doing this, gasping out apologies and platitudes. When that doesn’t work, she starts calling for Madara, begging for her father to help her, please, it hurts, please.

Achiko searches for her father through blurred vision and sees him snarling like a wild dog. He is held back by Hashirama’s mokuton, roots wrapping around his torso, arms pinned at his sides.

Then, at a particularly sharp burst of agony, her body decides it’s had enough and her vision tunnels and goes dark for the third time. The last thing she sees is her father calling at her with tears running down his cheeks.

Chapter Text

After that, everything is a blur, flashing by in snapshots.

A careful pressure underneath her aching back and knees, her face nestled against something soft .

Wind whipping across her exposed cheeks, and then her stomach swooping uncomfortably.

Screaming.

Someone crying softly.

More screaming, but this time it’s tinged with something like desperation.

White-hot pain everywhere, and then chilling numbness.

Nothing.

A warm feeling enveloping her, not entirely unlike a blazing fire.

She floats around in nothingness for a while after that .

It’s just her and the darkness, as black as the night.

Is there something in there with her?

///

Achiko wakes to a dull, cream ceiling, which she instantly recognizes. She’d woken up to the frankly depressing tiles of Konoha’s Hospital too many times to count.

She tries to think what landed her in the hospital this time and everything comes rushing back to her.

The ambush, the cell, the attempted escape. Hiroshi and his fucked up plan for revenge (seriously, why couldn’t he just have killed her and be done with it? Not that she’s complaining, but from a strategic point of view, it was really inefficient to keep someone such as herself alive. He had done a good job of nullifying her power, and more surprisingly Madara’s, though. It was evident that he had been planning that for a long time which makes her cringe a bit. It wasn’t anything new to have people yearning for her head on a pike, but to experience that firsthand was a little jarring and severely unpleasant) followed by vague memories of her eye being blown out, and then nothing.

Well that doesn’t sound fun to deal with, but she can mostly feel all her limbs, and the fact that she’s in a normal ward, not in intensive care only proves that her injuries weren’t serious enough to be life threatening.

She smacks her lips and grimaces at the nasty taste in her mouth. However, right now her goal is to ask questions and get answers, brushing her teeth will come later. As will brushing her hair, she can just about feel the tangles and dirt matted into it. She curses Madara and his frankly terrible genes for hair for the nth time.

Speaking of Madara, she can feel a chakra signature in close proximity to her. Her sensing is decent enough to pick up specific chakra signatures to the edge of the Hashirama-grown forest from the hospital, so it’s concerning that she can’t feel chakra well enough to identify it when it’s right next to her. It’s probably a lingering symptom from the poison or chakra-repressing seals, she surmises

Achiko sits up slowly, rubbing her non-bandaged eye.

“Uchiha-san?”

She startles, jerking her head towards the voice, which is decidedly not Madara.

Senju Tobirama is sitting on a rickety bench directly across from her hospital bed, scroll in hand. He's dressed in his off-duty clothes, a light green haori with ink stains on the sleeves and a grey hakama. His faceguard is nowhere to be seen, and his hair looks unusually damp for someone as put together as him.

He looks flustered, like he doesn’t know what to do.

She doesn’t either.

They end up staring at each other for a few seconds, until Tobirama seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in and stands up, joints cracking.

He must have been sitting there for a while.

“My father?” she croaks, trying to get over the shock of having him at her bedside.

“Meeting with an Iwa contingent.” he approaches her from her left side, mindful of her right eye, coming to hover by her elbow.

“Um,” she can’t remember a time when Madara had not been there when she woke up in the hospital. He had skipped meetings and shucked away clan duties to Hikaku to stay with her. It was more than strange that he wasn’t here….

Achiko feels a twinge of panic, but stifles it. Tobirama has no reason to lie. He is a trusted advisor and has only the village’s best interest at heart. Surely even he couldn’t get away with murdering the Uchiha Clan Heir in broad daylight… right?

As if he senses her uneasiness, Tobirama says “Elder brother forced him to go, since they are discussing a cease-fire. Your… father instructed me to stay here and guard you until you woke.”

He looks rather uncomfortable, so she can bet her father did a lot more than just “instruct”.

That answers a few questions, but raises more. Why couldn’t her father just request an Uchiha guard? Why Tobirama of all people?

His distaste and mistrust for her people is not unknown, and his name is synonymous with “Uchiha Izuna’s killer”.

She eyes him with barely suppressed suspicion. Would it ruin clan relationships if she asks him if he has any plans to murder her?

“What’s the damage?” she asks instead, deciding to remain civil.

Tobirama seems grateful (although she doesn’t know him well enough to be sure) at the not-so subtle subject change and he relaxes as he lists out her injuries.

“Broken femur, two lacerations, four broken fingers, a severe… burn on your collarbone and acute chakra exhaustion. Your body is also weak from the poison, so you may feel extremely tired.” he explains, a strange look coming over his normally stoic face.

This is probably the most emotion Achiko has seen on the man but that may be because she makes it a point to avoid him, at Madara’s behest. It’s yet another one of the irrational fears her father has, which makes him ordering Tobirama to protect her even more puzzling. Perhaps it was Hashirama who convinced him?

Tobirama is still talking, although she appears to have missed some of what he said.

“Those injuries, combined with your nearly burnt out chakra coils and psychological trauma will have you bedridden for three months, minimum.” he finishes, crossing his arms over his chest.

She feels a spark of annoyance flare up. Like hell she is going to stay still, doing nothing for a whole three months. Is he crazy?

Her father and Hashirama were most likely negotiating an end to the war with Iwa, but that didn’t mean the war would be over for sure. Even if it did end, there would be a lot of rebuilding and restructuring to do. The amount of accepted mission requests from civilians and nobles would increase as well, the money much needed to support the village. Her skills would be required in the aftermath.

Achiko would much rather serve her people than waste away in a hospital bed. It is only her duty after all.

“I’m not-”

“Not what?” he prods, arching an eyebrow. “Not going to follow orders? It’s not like you have much of a choice.”

“Says who?” she challenges, feeling irritated at his haughtiness.

Tobirama’s brow furrows and he looks down his nose at her. “Your commanding officer.”

If she didn’t know him any better, she would call the look on his face smug.

“Like hell you are!”

“Not me. Madara,” he says curtly, and the mention of her father only causes her to become more angered.

“Don’t you dare speak for my father!” she hisses, resisting the sudden urge to throw something at him.

Tobirama’s red eyes narrow like he’s visually dissecting her.

“Watch your tone, child!” he snaps. “You-”

“If I’m a child, then you should be on your deathbed already, old man.” she retorts, feeling satisfaction at the way his eye twitches with barely restrained annoyance.

“Has your father taught you no manners?” he growls, and reaches towards her.

She freezes.

In her mind, she sees another man, blonde-haired and lanky, leaning over her with a kunai.

(Didn’t you teach her any manners? As Clan heir… )

Achiko can’t help it. She flinches away from his hand, sharingan spinning to life, a hand coming up between them.

There’s a second in which she realizes that Tobirama was reaching for the seal next to her bed and then sweltering pain erupts from her right eye. Achiko cries out and hunches over, fingers clawing at her bandages.

When she finally has enough sense to force her sharingan off, the pain recedes slowly, leaving her breathing heavily. Her right eye feels damp underneath the gauze.

She musters enough courage to look at Tobirama and is met with a tense face. His palms are held up to her in an unassuming manner and his eyes are blank.

“My apologies, I acted too rashly,” he says stiffly. “If you will allow me, Uchiha-san…”

His hands extend towards her slowly, glowing a pale sea-green.

The fight drains out of her.

Achiko considers and then nods once, ears burning red at both her insolent behavior and display of weakness. It was no secret how busy Tobirama was with running the village, yet he took time out of his day to watch after her. In return, she had thanked him with hostility and rudeness.

Your uncle is dead because of him, a voice whispers in her ear. Would he hesitate to kill you, if he had the chance?

She pushes the thought out of her mind (ignorance is bliss after all) and closes her functioning eye. There's a gentle pressure on the right half of her face and then cool chakra flows through her head. It should feel odd or even uncomfortable due to his water affinity and her fire affinity, but instead it feels… pleasant. It reminds her of impromptu swims in the Naka with Shikari during those hot summers before the war, the cold soothing their irritated and sunburned skin.

Achiko can feel the red-hot throbbing in her eye socket fade away until there is only a lingering ache left.

A contented sigh escapes her and the pressure retreats hastily, leaving her feeling off kilter.

She cracks open her eye to see Tobirama pressing chakra into the seal at her bedside, lips pursed. His face has more color in it than normal.

“Tobirama-san?” she asks mildly, wishing he would continue whatever he was doing before.

“I’m calling a doctor,” he says, not looking at her. “They are the better healers.”

She almost rolls her eyes, before remembering that she only has one operational and it would look silly. Tobirama is probably the most accomplished healer after only his brother, who has ridiculous regenerative properties. There are stories of him bringing people back from the brink of death, of him healing wounds no mortal should ever be capable of.

She doesn’t say anything, just gives him an incredulous look, which he doesn’t see because he’s too busy glaring at the door. It’s like he’s willing it to open on it’s own and magically spit out a doctor.

“Don’t do that again.” he says suddenly and then immediately looks annoyed, like he didn’t mean to say that but it came out anyways.

Her gaze snaps to him.

“Do what?” she asks, foregoing the sarcastic quip.

“Activate your sharingan. Were you not listening when I said there is a high probability of you losing your vision completely?” he says flatly.

Her blood runs cold.

“They- I… thought it was healed?” she says dumbly, words stumbling out of her mouth. “Like- like normally?”

Were the bandages not just a formality?

“No. The blade sliced through your cornea. In order to try and save it, we attempted a surgery that has never been done before. Your eye is doing well as it can be but even now, success is not guaranteed.”

It feels like ice is running down the back of her neck. For the Uchiha eyes are a source of pride and power, and the sharingan is coveted throughout the nations. She can feel her carefully laid plans for her future crumble. How will she become the clan head if she cannot see? Losing an eye would mean vigorous training to overcome her handicap, since the loss of depth perception would prove to be fatal in combat. Not to mention her sharingan...

She's already so weak.

“My father…” she rasps, turning her face away, suddenly unable to look at Tobirama. There’s a bitter feeling in her stomach. (Even now, success is not guaranteed)

“When can I see him?”

There’s a small sigh, and then. “Rest for now. The meeting should be ending soon. He will come here when it does.”

She hears soft receding footsteps and then a click of a door opening and closing. Tobirama could have left silently if he wanted to, vanishing in a shunshin, but he purposefully made enough noise to let her know that he was gone.

Her left fist clenches and unclenches (it’s the only one she can move).

She’s alone in her small hospital room.

///

No one comes into her room for the next few hours, except for some medic-nin who check her injuries.

Achiko takes the time to go over exactly what had happened and how she could have prevented it or improved the situation. She also worries about her father and the clan, and wonders what she had missed.

While she’s trying to test the range of motion of her mostly uninjured arm, the door creaks open and a dark-haired woman slouches in. She looks to be the physical embodiment of absolute disinterest, but Achiko knows the Nara too well to fall for that. Shikari’s shoulders are stiff and her steps are too measured to be anything but. Her usual senbon is clenched tightly between her teeth.

She saunters over to Achiko’s bedside and hesitates for a second, brown eyes flickering over her body.

“Huh. You really did a number on yourself.” she mutters, finally sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, well…”

“You had us all worried.” Shikari says, studying her through dark bangs. “I thought your old man was actually going to go insane.”

“He was sane enough to meet those delegates,” Achiko points out half-heartedly, recalling what the Senju had told her. She feels a little put out at how Shikari implies that it’s her fault her father is worrying. Well, it technically is but if you think about it, that Hitori guy is really to blame. Or, taking it one step further, his crazy sister who lied and basically killed off her own clan.

Or perhaps it would be best to blame those who had started the entire war, that being Iwakagure and Konohagakure itself, which basically incriminated the two Kage. That would mean Hashirama and that old geezer Ishikawa were responsible for her father’s state of distress.

She makes a note to bring that particular point up to Hashirama whenever she sees him next.

“Yeah, I guess.” Shikari mutters. “I can’t imagine how diplomatic he’d be right now, though.”

Achiko winces. Madara is the last person she would throw into politics mainly because his definition of compromising was to threaten the other party into submission.

“That’s what Iwa is probably banking on,” Achiko says grimly. Madara was known for his hostile behavior and barely veiled threats. In the meeting room, he refrained from attacking with his hands, using his words instead. However, in politics words held a lot of weight. One slip up in a treaty or agreement could lead to generations cheated out of a fair deal. Anything that people could take advantage of, they did, from a wrongly placed tatami mat to a badly worded statement, which was why Madara was so infamous in the political world. It was also the reason why he was usually exempt from events such as these, with the political aspects of ruling left to Hashirama, or more accurately, Mito and Tobirama.

For Madara and Hashirama to both be in attendance meant that Iwa specifically requested them. Knowing those two, they would spend most of the time contradicting each other, her father’s brutal realism and Hashirama’s peace-filled ideology surely bound to clash. It was best to assume that Mito was with them, but Tobirama certainly wasn’t. She didn’t know much about Iwa’s delegates, hell, she didn’t even know how many there were, but the Tsuchikage himself was brash and prideful, taking offense at the smallest of things. If his followers were anything like him, they would too, and pry out amenities from Konoha.

Basically Iwakagure had set them up, in fact, it had probably been their intentions from the very beginning, including the destruction of the Karma clan, and fueling Hitori’s desire for revenge on Madara. The plan had probably been to kill her- no, not her. Madara was the higher value target. With him… gone, the village leadership would be destabilized and Iwa forces would no longer have to deal with him on the battlefield. She would replace her father as Clan Head, and quite possibly as advisor to the Hokage, next to Tobirama.

However, she was a woman and also young, which would cast suspicion on her being manipulated or forced into agreeing with proposals Hashirama (and by extension, the Senju) enacted. She was also not as capable as Hashirama or Tobirama on the field, contributing much less than them even now. It would skew the leadership balance heavily towards the Senju and demote the Uchiha, and as the Clan Head, she would have to stand up for her fellow clan members. The elders, those wretched geezers, would probably force her into fighting Hashirama and… she would lose, without a doubt. Achiko, a powerhouse in her own right, was still barely a match for Tobirama.

Iwa was probably not expecting both of them to live, but it still gave them an advantage. There was no way to link the kidnapping back to them since everyone involved was either dead or an Iwa official. It didn’t matter either way because those acts were committed during war and would do nothing to contribute to Konoha’s argument. Bringing up the information could potentially be detrimental, with the Iwa shinobi twisting into something of value for them.

“They set this up, huh. What a bunch of assholes,” Shikari sighs, clearly coming to the same conclusion as Achiko. Or more likely, she had been nudging her to it. Shikari always had been the brains out of the two of them.

“Dammnit.” Achiko growls, uninjured fist swinging out to hit the wall next to her. The wall audibly cracks, chips of wood clattering to the floor.

“You know they’re gonna make you fix that?” Shikari is unimpressed as ever.

“I’m going to murder that bastard Ishiwaka.”

“I would believe you, but... ” Shikari lazily gestures at her with one hand.

“What? Just because I broke a couple of bones doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

“I’d say you broke a little more than a couple.”

“You’re supposed to be supportive, you know. That’s what friends are for.”

“Yeah, friends are definitely supposed to support you through killing the Tsuchikage. Hah. What are you gonna do, arise from your hospital bed and duel him to death?”

“I was thinking more of an assassination under the cover of night. Either that, or we drug him and bring him to a remote location close to the border, but not over it and-”

“Hold on. Are you being serious right now?”

Achiko falters in her explanation, scrutinizing her friend’s face. The dark haired woman is staring incredulously at her, senbon still in between her teeth.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Shikari just shakes her head and leans back on her hands.

“You are the densest Uchiha I’ve ever met.” she scoffs. “You wake up in the hospital, because you got tortured, mind you, and your first thought is to kill the Tsuchikage. Unbelievable.”

“It’ll resolve the war, without the underhanded plays they’re making right now!” Achiko argues. “With their kage out of commision-“

“What then?” Shikari prompts, senbon clacking noisily. “Iwa will be without a leader which will throw them in chaos and we take advantage of that-”

Achiko opens her mouth to agree because yes, that was exactly what she was thinking, but Shikari continues.

“-is that what you were going to say?”

Achiko closes her mouth and nods, narrowing her eye. Shikari sighs loudly.

“Based on our intelligence, he has a successor, someone named Mū.” she says. It almost sounds like she’s giving a mission report. “We have no idea what he’s like, whether he’s amiable to continued war or if he’s anything like Ishiwaka and wants to scam out an agreement from us.”

Achiko is taken-off guard by the steel in Shikari’s normally lax voice. It’s times like this that Achiko remembers that the 19 year old is an accomplished shinobi and a key figure in Konoha’s logistics division, not just her lazy best friend.

“There’s also evidence of a mole in our midst, courtesy of the newly founded T&I,” she says, face hardening. “We think they work in the mission department, and are a high level member. It's that, or they stole confidential information and forced open the seals somehow. ”

“That’s not possible… Mito made those seals,” Achiko mumbles, running through the new information in her head. “If we have a mole in the mission department… Does that mean they’re responsible for the ambush on my father?”

“And yours as well,” Shikari confirms.

No wonder Madara’s scouting mission went bottoms-up so quickly. Someone had leaked the details to the outpost. It wasn’t just because of his shitty stealth skills, although she imagined they contributed to it.

As for her, it suddenly made a lot more sense why most of the shinobi that she fought had been water and wind types, strong against her fire and lightning nature, respectively. She recalls thinking it was strange that they knew how to counter her attacks perfectly and exploit her weakness so easily. There was no doubt a team had been trained to take her on.

She didn’t know whether to be flattered or worried.

How had they gotten that much accurate information was beyond her. They had known her exact moves and jutsus down to a T.

“This is going to be so troublesome,” Achiko groans, covering her forehead with her hand.

“You’re not the one who’s going to have to deal with it,” Shikari points out, looking displeased at the mere notion of extra work.

“Do you really think my father and Hashirama are going to leave all of this up to T&I?”

“That may be so, but I doubt your father will let you help. Aren’t you supposed to be on bedrest?”

“Like hell I’m letting something like that stop me.”

“You can’t even walk, Achiko.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll…” Achiko trails off.

What could she do?

“I’ll help with the paperwork for now.” she decides.

Shikari gives her skeptical look.

“What? Stop looking at me like that! He broke my right hand, not my left. I can still write!”

“Righttt…” her friend drawls, “And you’re sure you won’t...lose it?”

“Oh, shut it. That was one time, Shikari!”

Shikari shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I told you I wouldn’t let you forget it.”

“It was- it was a genuine mistake!” Achiko says indignantly. “It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“Uh-huh”

“Really!”

“Well, it was awfully convenient for you.” Shikari sniffs, all fake-hurt.

“You were there! You know I dropped it by accident!”

“You could’ve dropped it ‘by accident’ anywhere else, but you chose the Naka.”

“It slipped out of my hand! Actually, you know what, it’s technically your fault! You’re the one who made me trigger the trap in the first place!”

“No, I wasn’t. Just say you suck at checking for traps and go.”

“I’m an Uchiha! I can’t suck at checking for traps! Plus, it was on the side you were supposed to cover!”

Shikari rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it was so obvious. I don’t know how you didn’t see it.”

“Me?! What do you mean ‘me’? How didn’t you see it!” Achiko almost wails. The recon mission gone wrong, or ‘Achiko’s Big Fuck Up’ as Shikari liked to (wrongly) call it, was something that Achiko would never like to think about again, thanks. The whole mission had been a mess, although it had been fun in a sick sort of way.

“ Well, even if-” Shikari halts, stilling suddenly. Achiko sits up quickly, wondering why her friend stopped mid sentence.

Not a second later, a medic bursts in, carrying a small glass jar.

Oh, to be able to sense others through chakra. Achiko curses the poison and suppression seals again, feeling a bit envious of her friend.

The medic is a scrawny thing, and possibly Yamanaka from his straw-yellow hair (she focuses on how it's lighter than Hitori’s) and blue eyes. Stopping short, he shoots a hasty bow in Shikari’s direction and then another one towards her.

“My apologies, Nara-sama, Uchiha-sama, I wasn’t aware you two were busy. If now is a bad time I can come back later.” he says quickly, clutching the jar with white knuckles.

Achiko exchanges a look with Shikari. This reaction from civilians or lower level ninja wasn’t uncommon, but they weren’t used to it, neither did they enjoy it.

“We weren’t busy. What did you need?” Shikari says, not unkindly.

“Oh, I- I’m here to drop off a healing salve for Uchiha-sama. It’s, uh, for your burn.”

Achiko blinks.

“My… burn.” she says slowly. The only burn she recalled getting was the one that knocked her out during the ambush, although that had been healed as much as possible.

“Yes… the one on your collarbone, Uchiha-sama,” the boy says earnestly.

“Just Achiko is fine,” Achiko says on reflex. Then realization dawns a split second later, and oh god, she’d been branded. There is something burned onto her skin, marking her as property, like cattle or sheep.

“I… see.” she says, somewhat distantly, feeling an abject horror freeze her veins.

It’s just a burn she reminds herself. Just a burn. It’s like any other injury, it doesn’t mean anything.

“Would- would you like me to apply it, Uchi- Achiko-san?” he stutters, face blooming a bright red.

The thought of someone random seeing her branded skin makes her feel sick.

“I’ll do it for her. Thank you.” Shikari says firmly, sitting up.

The boy is about to hand it to her, when Achiko interjects.

“No, I'll do it for myself. Medic-san, please give the salve to me.” she gets out, sounding a little too ragged for her liking.

Shikari turns to look at her as the blonde glances between the two of them, and immediately holds out the container towards Achiko. She reaches for it and grasps her hand around... thin air. The room itself seems to freeze for a second as Achiko stares at her hand. She grits her teeth and tries again, reaching further and just managing to brush the glass with her finger tips.

Neck burning with embarrassment, she attempts grabbing it for a third time, not stopping until her fingers have wrapped securely around the jar.

There’s silence.

The medic, seeming to catch on to the tension, hurriedly excuses himself and leaves, leaving her alone with her best friend.

Shikari doesn’t say anything, just watches quietly from her seat at the end of the bed.

Achiko doesn't feel like talking even though it feels like Shikari is waiting for her to start the conversation. Instead, she fumbles with her hospital issued gown and pulls down the top hem so that her collarbone is exposed.

A brand- no, a burn, in the shape of a filled-in diamond in a thick circle, is what she’s met with. The relatively cool air stings the brown, peeling skin slightly. It takes up a good portion of her upper chest, almost as big as her palm.

It’s not pretty to look at, at all. And it’s going to be there for the rest of her life. It will of course fade with time but…

She unscrews the jar and slathers on a thick layer of the distinctly medicinal smelling salve.The bittersweet scent of mint and other herbs fill the air. The sharpness of it makes her eyes water.

As she spreads the concoction around, she can’t help but remember the sizzling sound the hot iron had made when it contacted her skin, the pressure . One memory leads to another, and soon sounds of her father’s desperate screaming and her own pained grunts rings in her ears. The dripping sounds of blood, how it had felt sliding down her leg, her chin fill her mind. She remembers being so afraid, so terrified, and then suddenly at peace with her possible death.

Of course she had been prepared to fall, but that would be of her own violation. She had envisioned a heroic end in which she would go down fighting on the battlefield, and take as many enemies as she could with her. Such a death was only befitting for the daughter of Madara, any less would bring shame to the Uchiha. But in that dungeon, she had been mere seconds away from death at an unhinged man’s hands as her father was forced to watch, chained like a lowly prisoner.

Shame washes over her. If only she had been stronger, or faster, she could have taken out the assault team sent to get her. After all, it was a rookie mistake that had done her in, a gust from her fans would have sent the Katon Jutsu blowing away from her or even side-step would suffice, but she slipped up in her spatial awareness.

They took her and poisoned her, and her father almost died because of her foolish mistakes. It had all been avoidable, if only she had the sense to just avoid that damn Katon. 

Her hand trembles as it drops from her collarbone, landing in her lap.

She remembers the embarrassment and uselessness she had felt when Tobirama had told her she was on bed rest for three months, when she had trouble taking a jar from someone because she had no depth perception, may not ever have it again.

But how could she feel pity for herself when it was all her fault to begin with? She didn’t deserve to feel anything but guilt.

Her eye stings and its not just because of the medicine anymore. Tears spill down her cheek and drop onto her wrist.

Shikari mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “Troublesome,” and the bed shifts.

Moments later, Achiko feels slender arms encircle her. She leans into her best friend, tears silently sliding down one side of her face.

She doesn’t deserve this. But… she’s too weak to resist the small form of comfort.

“I might…. Might lose my eye, and, and… I just.. I’m so weak.” Achiko hates how her voice breaks on the last word.

“I don’t deserve it… I know I don’t deserve it,” she whispers through hitching gasps. “I’m supposed… to lead them, Kari, I’m… supposed to be strong for them.But I... I can’t… I can’t even be strong for myself.”

“You are strong, one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” Shikari’s voice sounds fierce and her grip tightens. “You know how I think lying is troublesome so I’m not just saying that to be saying it, I mean it.”

“Look at me!” Achiko tries to shout, but her voice sounds choked. She gestures to her eye, her broken leg, bandaged fingers,brand mark, and the numerous bruises and cuts littering her body. There are more than she remembers getting. “I’m not strong, 'kari, I…”

“Achiko, you went through hours of torture and you came out alive, without giving up any information. There are very few people who could go through all that and not cave.You… you and your father saved so many people.” Shikari says, like she can't believe Achiko doesn't know this.

“I was out for most of it…” Achiko confesses, cringing. “I think my father had it worse…”

“Well he can deal! You were the one who was physically tortured, and that’s worse.”

Achiko doesn’t think so, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, okay? You’re going to spend time off, for however long they say you have to.”

“And no arguing.” Shikari adds, seeing the look on Achiko’s face.

Achiko nods sullenly, wiping her tears away.

Shikari starts to say something else, and then she’s suddenly throwing herself away from Achiko.

“Kageshibari no Jutsu,” Shikari snaps, and shadows are brought to life around her feet catching somebody in a shadow bind.

Achiko tries to blindly throw the senbon hidden in her sleeves, before realizing that she’s wearing a flimsy hospital gown, not her own clothes.

She looks up to see who was stupid enough to shunshin into her room without warning, and blanches at seeing a very familiar figure standing still in front of her bed.

“Would you mind releasing me, so I can talk to my daughter, Nara?” Madara snaps, obviously irritated.

Oh shit.

Chapter Text

After Shikari releases Madara from her bind and half-apologizes, she leaves, but not without one last look at Achiko, promising a conversation that Achiko already knows she won’t want to have.

Madara moves to stand at her left side, arms crossed over his surprisingly formal dark blue montsuki. The mon emblazoned on each shoulder pad is the uchiwa fan. A hita-ae artfully hangs from his obi, proclaiming him as a shinobi of Konoha. His unruly hair is brushed out and tied into an elaborate top-knot. Achiko wonders who the poor soul forced into doing her father’s hair was, since it was far too neat to have been Madara himself.

His eyes flicker red, sharingan turning on as he scans her body. They seem to catch at her collar-bone, still exposed from her application of the salve, and his mouth twists.

Achiko feels uncomfortable under his gaze, it feels like he’s disappointed with what he sees. It was not an uncommon occurrence to have her father check over her with his sharingan, but it usually didn’t feel this… constricting.

He must attribute her red cheeks and glassy eyes to some complication from her injuries or medication because he doesn’t comment on them.

“How was the meeting?” Achiko asks, watching his eyes return to black.

“Terrible,” Madara says, sounding exhausted. “How are you feeling?”

Achiko shrugs. “Been better.”

Madara frowns imperceptibly. “Are you in any pain, is what I meant.”

“No, I’m just...tired.”

It was true enough, although her body still thrummed with the echoes of pain.

Madara nods. His hands pull off his always-present black gloves, and reach out to hold hers, a familiar gesture, although one not used often.

The last time this had happened was in that dingy cell, before everything went to shit.

She clutches his hand almost as hard as he grips hers, his soft palms a stark difference from her blisters and calluses. It paid to wear gloves while handling weapons, she ought to start.

“Are you okay?” she can’t help but ask, even though he looks perfectly fine.

Her father gives her a wry look.

“Of course,” he allows a smile to cross his mouth, a soft upturn of his lips. His face drops and then hardens in the next moment.

“I…” Madara starts, and then clears his throat. “I understand that you will fight me on this,” he begins and Achiko groans internally. Sentences that started with words like that never went well.

“But… I’ve decided to put you on the off-duty roster for now.”

That… doesn’t really surprise Achiko. Tobirama had mentioned it to her and she had initially reacted negatively, taking out her anger on him. Now that she had some time to think it over, it was the course of action that made the most sense. It’s not like she’s capable of being on-duty, she thinks bitterly.

It’s his next words that catch her off guard.

“Until the end-of-war negotiations are done, you will not leave the village for any reason.”

“What? Why not?”

Her father exhales slowly. He reaches up to yank the pins out of his hair which then tumbles down his back. The tangles are more visible than usual.

“The meeting did not go well at all.” he mutters, rubbing his scalp. “They demanded something we can not give, and kept insisting their village needed it to survive. They invited us to come and see for ourselves, so Hashirama and I will be taking a squad of shinobi out to Iwa tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding? It’s obvious it’s a trap,” Achiko says incredulously. “And so soon? What is it that they needed so urgently anyway?”

“Our eyes.” her father pauses, looking like he bit something sour. “ I don’t know what for, but they insisted that they needed the sharingan, that it was their only hope. They expressed… interest in you and me specifically.”

Achiko’s mouth hangs open. It takes her a while to find her voice, due to the sheer audacity of those rock country bastards. Who did they think they were, threatening her clan and, by association, Konoha like that?

“And Hashirama approved of this?” she blurts once she recovers her wits.

A second to consider her words and then, of course Hashirama did. He was the biggest advocate for peace there was. It was honestly next to ridiculous how obsessed he was with the idea of living in harmony with everyone else. Achiko personally thought he was naive, such peace was practically impossible, but when your strength is considered to be that of a god, she supposes it wouldn’t be that hard to bend people to your will, as Hashirama had been and is doing.

“Nevermind that, Otou-san, you shouldn’t go!” Achiko insists, clenching the thin sheets between her fist.

“I have to.” he says, looking down, his hair hiding his face from view. “It is the only way to end the war. They were adamant about it.”

“I should go too, then! At least-” Her father’s head snaps up.

“No. You will be staying here.” he growls, his tone making it clear that there will be no discussion on the matter. It’s the same voice he uses in the field while commanding troops.

Achiko stays quiet, her outburst losing heat. Logically speaking, there was no plausible way she could go, with how severe her injuries were.

“Fine,” she acquiesces, only because there is nothing else she can do. It’s out of her hands at this point. “But only if you write often. How long will you be gone for?”

“I don’t know yet. A week at best,” Madara says flatly. He starts pacing across the floor.

“You said you and Hashirama are going? Who else?”

If she couldn’t go, she should at least make sure that those accompanying him were fit for the task of watching after her father.

“Hyuūga Hiro and Kei, the Nara and Yamanaka heads, and a couple of elite jounin,” Madara lists off. “Tobirama will be left in charge of the village, with Hikaku as second advisor and Uchiha Clan Head.”

Achiko nods thoughtfully. So Hashirama had elected to take two prodigies with the Byagukan, as well as the Head of T&I (a deception and infiltration specialist) and the Jounin Commander (a master strategist). A well rounded team, small but aggressive. At least Hashirama’s brain worked sometimes, although she wouldn’t be surprised if Madara had chosen the members.

She just hopes it will be enough to survive the den of the enemy. Strong as Madara and Hashirama may be, the element of surprise and a home-base advantage , not to mention that the Tsuchikage was not far behind them in strength.

Then the second half of his words catch up to her. She can almost feel her heart sink down to her toes, jealousy and resentment beginning to swirl in her stomach.

Instead of focusing on the crushing feeling of not being good enough to watch over the Clan in his stead, Achiko decides to remain optimistic.

“Hikaku can enjoy dealing with the elders, while me? I’m going to ‘recuperate’,” she announces, a slightly forced grin on her face.

Her father’s face tightens, which was not the response she was aiming for. Madara was usually all for taking digs at the stuffy elders. After all, he was the one who had been dealing with them for almost two decades.

“Yes, you are going to rest and recuperate,” he snaps. “ Don’t say it like you’re not.”

“Well, I obviously have to. I don’t think I can walk at all right now.” she says, her irritation at his attitude leaking into her words. It was just a joke, could he lighten up? “In a week or two, I’ll be good to go.”

“No, you will not be. The healers said you should be on bed rest for three months at the least. And you will not leave the village until I come back.” Madara bites out, turning to face her.

“Why not? I feel fine and my injuries are almost healed, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t start training as soon as possible.” Achiko argues, crossing her arms. A little bit of an over exaggeration, but that didn’t matter.

“You listen to me, girl.” Madara starts in a familiar low tone.

Here comes the ‘I’m your father and I know what’s best, so you should shut up and listen to me’ lecture. Achiko almost rolls her eyes, before remembering she can’t.

“Do you want to cause more damage to your body? You think that they are saying three months to spite you? No, Achiko, it is because you need the rest, otherwise you won’t be able to fight again. If you start too soon and overexert yourself, your chakra coils will give out, and then what? You need to listen to me. ”

“I will rest for as long as I know I need to. I know my limits Otou-san. I won’t overtrain,” Achiko says stubbornly.

“No, you will not, because you won’t be training at all.” Madara’s face is turning red, which is a testament to how angry he really is. Huh. She didn’t know he was this serious about it. Although, he was always uncharastically somber about any type of bodily harm from missions. She didn’t understand why. It was expected for shinobi to devote their whole life to their cause. A few bruises and broken bones were normal, although she has to admit, torture is a bit on the extreme side, but not an uncommon occurrence in the world they live in.

Achiko refrains from yelling at him, it won’t do any good but really, how does he expect people to respect her if she gets waylaid for three whole months because of a simple poison and seal?

General opinion on her was low as-is, she didn’t need more rumours about her being weak, in addition to those about her being a half-breed and impure, spread around.

She is obviously going to take some time off, but it’s better to get back into the swing of things as early as possible to combat muscle atrophy and general rustiness.

“Why are you so scared?” she asks a bit scornfully, changing her approach. She’ll goad him into getting off her back. Insulting his pride was a hit-or-miss, but it pulled through when she needed it to.

“Why am I sc- Are you listening to yourself right now?!”

“Yes, I am and it’s an honest question. Are you going to answer or not?”

“Do you want to be able to defend yourself in the future?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it!” Madara looks like he’s about to blow his top. “I just said if you physically exert yourself, it could have long lasting consequences on your health!”

“Not if I’m careful. And you know I always am!” Achiko defends herself. She’s a little worried at how heavy Madara is breathing. She thinks- no, he’s definitely doing breathing exercises right now. Trying and failing, judging by how uneven his breaths are.

She knew that he had been worried about her (as one would normally be after seeing their child go through such a traumatic event, but she was seventeen for kami’s sake! She had fought her first battle at 12

“You weren’t careful enough to not get caught!” Madara thunders, looking livid.

“You got caught too! How is that fair?” Achiko snaps after a moment of shock. Bringing that up was an incredibly low blow and her self-esteem crumbles just a bit more. It fuels her deep-seated fears and now she feels almost as angry as Madara looks.

“You will not train for another three months and you will not leave the village.” Madara continues like he hadn’t heard her. “Am I clear?”

“Are you-”

“Am I clear?”

Achiko gnashes her teeth together. Her anger slowly dies down, replaced by embarrassment and a hollow feeling.

“Yes,” she says sullenly, after a moment of tense silence.

Madara exhales loudly. He sits down with a heavy thump on her bed, like arguing with her had taken out the remaining energy from him. She has half a mind to tell him to stop wrinkling his expensive clothes, the golden embroidery and fine stitches probably having cost tens of thousands of ryo, but holds back from saying anything out of sheer pettiness.

“You are… old enough to understand, Achiko.” he says stiltedly, turning to face towards the window.

It’s not an apology, but it’s the closest she’s going to get; the words ‘i’m sorry’ had probably never left her fathers mouth, ever.

A pause.

“I only want to be able to watch your back, why can’t you see that?” she finally mutters, shoulders hunched. Her own face is hot with something akin to humiliation and guilt, mixed together.

Something passes over his face, too quick to identify.

“I know you do, my loyal daughter. But the only way you can help me is if you stay here, and stay safe.”

Achiko blinks, apprehension prickling down her spine. That sounded strangely ominous. Safe? In the heart of Konoha?

“Is there something I should know?” she asks carefully, observing the way her father seems to avoid her gaze.

“No,” he says, in the faintly accusing-the-world-of-conspiring-against-him manner that only Madara can do. “We don’t know for sure yet…”

“Is it about the traitor?”

Madara looks surprised, then frowns. “That Nara told you, didn’t she… “

Achiko shrugs. “Maybe I have a mind-reading kekkei genkai,” she says, zero humour in her voice.

“That damned girl. She wasn’t supposed to tell anybody.” he mutters under his breath, but it’s loud enough for her to hear. The ‘who else has she told’ was left unsaid, but she knew her father well enough to understand his train of thought.

Achiko sighs. Damn Madara and his paranoia.

“She’s not going to. It was just me.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Because she's my best friend. I know her almost as well as I know you.”

“How many times have I told you to not trust anybody so implicitly? For all we know, she could be the mole.”

“Yeah, the next Jounin commander is definitely the mole.”

Well Shikari wasn’t confirmed to take over as Commander, but really, who else could it be?

“Achiko, trust like that will get you stabbed in the back when you least expect it,” her father says solemnly. There’s something strange about the way he words it that hints at some underlying experience with back-stabbing friends. It was probably during the Warring States period, which she’s told was a complete shit show, nothing like the relative stability there is now.

Even though there is war, it is more structured and less haphazard, with much less collateral and general damage. The two sides are well defined, no clan is double-crossing the other in alliances since every shinobi belongs to a village, which is more binding than an actual contract since clan compounds and whatnot were located in Konohan boundaries.

Betrayal would mean an instant wipeout of all or most clan members, or at least something close, and no one would risk that. After all, war was only about protecting your loved ones and precious people.

There are still cases of unaffiliated clans and smaller villages signing treaties with a major village, but those rarely ended well. One such example is (or was) the Karma Clan and Iwa, the latter having royally screwed over the former.

“I understand,” Achiko affirms quietly, because she has no clue what to say to that. The only thing that she really can do is take his advice into consideration.

“Good. I must go and prepare for our trip to Iwagakure soon, but I can stay a little longer if you wish me to, Achiko.” her father says a bit awkwardly. Achiko holds back a smile. Showing affection was really not her father’s strong suit.

Neither was trying to change the subject smoothly.

Subtle was just not in his vocabulary.

“Nice try. Tell me more about this mole we have. Shikari only told me the bare minimum so…”

Madara groans.

“I hoped you would let that go, you brat,” he complains, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “Here I am, trying to make the most of what little time we have left and you want to ask me about such depressing things?”

“I don’t want to drag this out,” Achiko tells him. “The sooner we finish this and end the war, the sooner our lives go back to normal. I don’t want there to be more bloodshed than necessary.”

Achiko pauses, thoughtful.

“And after this is all over, we’ll have a dango party.” she declares, fist pumping in the air.

“Very well then, if that is what you want.” he sounds amused. “I will endeavor to eat some dango with you after all is said and done.”

“Oh, shut up. Don’t act like you don’t crave that shoyu dango on a daily basis.” Achiko snipes, only half-joking. Her father had taken a liking to the treat after trying them once and had not stopped talking about them since.

Madara chuckles and shakes his head.

“You just might be right about that, dear daughter,” he says warmly.

“I am right. Now quit stalling and tell me what you know.”

///

It turns out that Madara doesn’t know much.

There’s a mole, yes, who’s been feeding intel to Iwagakure. They are most likely ranked high in the intelligence division, have access to mission assignments and reports, and seem to focus on destabilizing Konohan internally, by targeting Madara or Hashirama, and those close to them.

They do not seem to have access to battle plans and formations, which doesn’t narrow the list of suspects by a lot. It’d be more helpful if they did, since so few had the privilege to help coordinate troop movements with her father and Hashirama.

That’s about it.

She’s more than a little dismayed at the lack of intel that Konoha has on something that threatens the very foundation of the village. According to her father, Tobirama, Shikama and Inodai are assigned the forefront of the effort, which was both good and bad news. If the greatest analytical minds in Konoha were on the case, it would be resolved in no time. If they weren’t able to… well, it didn’t bode well for the village.

She asks for a timeline of their work, which brings about the most surprising news.

Achiko is left speechless when Madara begrudgingly admits exactly how long he sat next to her bedside, waiting for her to wake up. Apparently she had been comatose for three whole weeks, and peace talks had been happening for around half that time, along with the discovery of the traitor. It didn’t seem to be a coincidence that the mole was uncovered at the same time the cease fire order had reached Iwa’s frontline nin.

Just how deep did the deception run in their ranks?

Almost two entire weeks of searching and Konoha still had no solid lead, no solid information even. Iwa was not good enough at infiltration to train a spy well enough to go unnoticed by multiple invasive mind-walks, as she had no doubt the Yamanakas had conducted many in her absence, so what was going on?

Even Madara,a tactical genius, seems to be at a loss for what to do, if his demeanor is anything to go by. She wouldn’t say he was defeated, because that just wasn’t a word used to describe her father, but this was definitely different than what his usual brand of annoyance looked like.

The topic shifts to lighter subjects after a lengthy pause filled with contemplative silence.
Her father tells her about Kagami’s promotion to tokubetsu jonin, which makes her smile. It had been a long time coming and she suspects the only reason why he wasn't promoted earlier was due to Tobirama’s reluctance to let any Uchiha excel or be in higher positions of power, although Kagami swears up and down that his Jonin-sensei isn’t like that.

Kagami is also only 16 and idolizes Tobirama to the point where she’d think he’d be ready to marry him, if given the chance .

Before the war, there had been talks of a political marriage between the Senju and Uchiha which had been all but abandoned when Iwa started killing off Konoha nin who worked in the outposts on the border between the two countries.

For what purpose, she didn’t know. Perhaps they just wanted more land and resources, being as greedy as they are, or maybe they just wanted to prove their dominance in battle against Konoha. She’d imagine their motive would have changed in the last 4 years of fighting, as evidenced by their demands. However, it would not be a surprise if Iwa was after the sharingan all along, their lust for doujutsus and other kekkei genkai well known.

She mentions her thoughts to her father about Kagami, but keeps the ones about Iwa to herself, not wanting another lecture on her safety.

Her father barks out a laugh, which startles her.

“You talk as though you have years of wisdom and experience on Kagami, yet you are barely a year older,” Madara chortles, and she feels her cheeks heat up.

“I’m a year and 6 months older, I wouldn’t call that barely a year. And he is obsessed with that Senju, is he not?” she protests.

The mirth drains from her father’s eyes and she remembers who she is talking to.

“Regardless of who he… looks up to, his loyalty will always be to the clan,” he says firmly. The way he says it leaves no room for exceptions. It’s like he’s threatening the universe itself.

“I have no doubt of that, I was just saying that he might have a crush on his sensei,” she hurries to reassure him, and then blanches.

Madara raises an eyebrow, huffing either in disbelief or amusement, she isn’t sure.

Why did she say that? Silly crushes and love were something that strictly fell in the “do not talk about with Madara” category. She meant for it to be a joke, but still…

“...What?”

“Ignore that, I… The medicine…. ” she trails off lamely.

Her father gives her a skeptical look, but continues with the updates.

Seiksho and Watame Uchiha, cousins of Madara, welcomed their first born into the world roughly 10 days ago. It’s a baby boy, born at dusk, and she makes a mental note to drop by to congratulate them and meet the child. Madara probably already has seen the baby and given his blessings, being clan leader and all. There are a few more births and marriages, some being clan members of her age. It surprises her that there are so many inter-clan marriages. Due to their dojutsu, people are only allowed to marry in to keep the sharingan within the clan. This requires permission from both clan leaders. Some more promotions, which is also good.

In other news, there have been no more deaths from their clan, which is beyond relieving to hear. Clan relations remain strong in face of Iwa’s pseudo surrender. Madara and Achiko being taken captive seemed to serve as the catalyst that pushed Konoha over the edge. Madara may not be well liked throughout the village, but he is still a founding member and for Iwa to hold him hostage was an insult to those under his command, which was every shinobi.

Madara also tells her that having Hashirama, Tobirama, and Mito come to their aid was both a practical and political move. Practical because someone strong enough to subdue Madara required special consideration, as she had thought. But for the Senju head and matriarch to personally come to rescue the Uchiha Head and Heir really cemented the stability of their alliance. Apparently Tobirama carried her into the hospital, which was also important. The killer of Madara’s brother seen holding his daughter? No doubt that there was trust between the two parties.

Waking up to the Senju made more sense now, although she just knows Madara was not happy about it.

They talk more, aimable conversation about inconsequential things. Her second favorite mochi shop has shut down. Madara lost his sword in the whole kidnapping debacle and needs to commission a new one. For now he is relying solely on his gunbai and scythe. She wants to take up sealing as a side hobby. There’s a new book out in series they are both somewhat interested in. Madara’s 36th birthday is coming up. He says he doesn’t want anything but she remembers him talking about doing falconry as a child. He stopped before the village was founded but peacetime should be a good time to start again.

She’s itching to talk more about the mole, but she hasn’t looked at the archives yet. She would be making wild conjectures based off virtually nothing and her father is under a lot of stress already. He doesn’t need random guesses and half-assed theories weighing him down. He already has the mission where he is going to enter enemy territory and risk his life to think about.

Spending time with her father is also a rare treat. They never get to sit down and simply talk, with the war going on for so long. Doing the math, she was only 13 when it started, and she had been more interested in hanging out with peers her own age and forced to learn all the duties that came with being clan heir.

The sky outside her window gets darker and darker, until violet and orange hues streak across the horizon. She has a good view of the mountain where Hashirama’s face is carved and the Hokage’s residence and office beneath it. The kanji for fire is barely visible with the sunlight in the background.

Madara stands up abruptly from his spot at the edge of the bed after she cracks a particularly long yawn.

“It’s late. You should rest. And I need to leave soon.”

He reaches over to pat her head.

“Listen to the doctors and don’t be stupid,” he says seriously, gathering up the discarded formal montsuki and pins. He slips on the geta he had worn in and lumbers towards the exit.

Achiko nods, suddenly unable to speak because of the lump in her throat. This might very well be the last time she sees her father alive.

She wants to turn her sharingan on to remember him as he looks now, so if he--

No, don’t think like that! Her father is one of the strongest people alive, he’ll be fine!

“Don’t forget our dango party,” she manages to get out, sounding like a 5 year old.

Madara pauses, grip visibly tightening on the doorknob. His face is turned away from her.

“I won’t,” he says, and the door clicks shut.

It’s not exactly a promise to come back alive, but it will have to do.

Chapter Text

Achiko sleeps fitfully through the night, haunted by echoes of clanking chains and shouts of agony.

The same blonde-haired medic as last time wakes her up. She’s groggy at first but her mood immediately sours seeing the needles and pills he is holding on a tray.

“My apologies,” he bows lightly, glass bottles and tubes clinking against each other. “We need to do bloodwork and test your chakra pathways, as well as administer an antidote to negate any lingering effects of the poison. It’s to be on the safe side of things.”

She withholds an irritated comment; it isn’t his fault she has to go through all this poking and prodding early in the morning, and slowly sits up. Her wounds pull painfully against gauze but she ignores them, carefully wrapping her fingers around the first bottle of medicine on the tray.

Uncapping the damn thing proves to be a challenge, but soon enough there is a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. The medic informs her that the second bottle contains burn salve, which she dutifully applies and tries not to think about.

“How did you sleep, Achiko-sama? Did anything bother you?”

If only he knew.

“Just Achiko is fine, and I slept alright, thank you.” she says quietly. It’s not the physical pain that bothers her, however annoying it might be. The fate of her father hangs in balance, dependent on the Tsuchikage and his temper. A possible assasination threat looms over her, courtesy of the mole. She can’t even defend herself properly, can’t enter the field to smoke out the traitor. There’s nothing to do but recover, but even then she might never regain sight in her right eye, might never be as effective as she was before.

The next hour consists of the medic drawing blood and testing her mobility. He has her do a multitude of stretches and directs her to pulse her chakra softly in different patterns.

Halfway through the examination, her leg cramps up. It’s so sudden that she almost collapses from her position propped up against the wall, but grits her teeth through the pain and continues following his directions.

A little bit of suffering is worth it, if it means she can pass the physical and be cleared for active duty sooner.

The tests seem to go on and on and on, but finally, after countless blood draws and chakra exercises, he informs her that her muscle and chakra levels seem to be recovering as expected, which really doesn’t tell her much besides the fact that her body is nowhere near healthy yet.

Achiko holds her breath as he bids her a good day and gathers up his supplies, making his way towards the exit. She breathes out a sigh of relief , her body deflating as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. Her next thought is to call Shikari, but she can barely walk, much less shunshin to wherever her best friend is holed up.

She could theoretically call a nurse, but there’s no guarantee that the nurses would be able to reach the Nara heir as fast as she would like and it’s not their job to play personal aide to her.

That leaves one option.

Biting the skin of her thumb, she wills a miniscule amount of chakra into her hand and slams it into the cotton sheets beside her. A puff of smoke and then-

“Achiko! What have you done with yourself?” a distressed voice squeaks, the smoke clearing to reveal a small crow perched on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, Kos, you probably don’t want to know…” Achiko sighs, reaching out to pet his sleek feathers. “I missed you.”

“You should! It’s been almost a month and I was so worried! I even asked Kitay if I could reverse summon you but he said no because you weren’t in mortal danger and that I couldn’t abuse my summoning rights or something, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I almost did it, but then I was like ‘oh my gods what if I get caught after Kitay explicitly forbade me, will I be kicked out ‘, so I decided not to, I’m so sorry, I should’ve done something, and wow, you look terrible-”

Achiko raises a hand, cutting off her summons’ rambling before he embarasses himself any further

“You did the right thing Kos. I wasn’t in the best shape this past month and… it’s not something I want you to see, even now.”

Kos looks affronted, or as affronted as a crow can look.

“It doesn’t matter what you look like, silly. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m here and I’m alive. Thank you Kos,” Achiko smiles, unwanted tears pricking the corner of her eye. How lucky she is, to have such steadfast companions in the face of suffering.

“You’re like a sister to me Achiko, in all ways but blood.” Kos chirps fiercely.

Achiko can’t help a wet laugh at that. “Well obviously Kos.” she says, wiping her eye with the back of her wrist.

“Oh, oh, don’t cry!” Kos hops up into her lap, beak softly nudging her chin.

After taking a deep breath to compose herself, Achiko straightens, feeling a little overwhelmed with emotion.

“Listen, I really appreciate you for worrying about me and I know you want to know what happened, but if I’m being honest, I don’t think I have the energy to talk about it. I don’t even know if I can keep you summoned for that long.” It was true. She could already feel her chakra coils flagging, even though it had only been a couple of minutes since Kos was summoned. That and she didn’t want to talk about what happened, ever.

Kos perks up. “We can save the probably insane and probably traumatizing war story you have to tell me for when you’re healed up. What do you need me to do?”

Achiko's heart pangs. Such devotion and understanding.

She wasn’t sure if she deserved it.

“Can you get Shikari for me, wherever she may be? Remind her of what we agreed on.”

Kos flutters his wings, lifting off the bed. He glides over to the window sill and pauses, turning around.

“I know I may be afraid of everything and only good for delivering messages, but please Achiko, summon me whenever it’s possible for me to help.” He blurts and then dives out, leaving behind a rattling sill.

Achiko is left staring at the spot where her friend once hovered. Her throat closes up as she fights not to cry. She’s done enough of that for a lifetime.

///

When she has nothing better to do, her thoughts tend to drift towards her uncle.

Everyone says she looks exactly like him, but that doesn’t really mean anything since all the Uchiha look like each other. It might be because she’d taken to wearing her hair in a simple tail, using her uncle’s old ribbons in honor of him, but her hair lacks the spikiness and haphazardly cut bangs that her uncle’s had.

They also shared the same summons, which is hard to wrap her head around. Kos’s contract was given to her by her father, who said that Izuna would have wanted her to have it. She had taken it with gratitude and desperation to prove herself to at least someone. It shocked her to no end when a small, timid crow appeared in the smoke since had expected an aggressive, battle-worn one. Battle-worn he was, but just not in the way that Achiko expected.

She’s ashamed to say it, but she shunned Kos at first, since he was so cowardly and constantly wondered if there had been a mistake. Being all of thirteen years old at the time and a freshly made genin, she was looking for guidance in the face of the cruel rumors that circled her and her father. What she came to learn was that Kos wasn’t a guide, he was an ally and a steadfast friend. They bonded over being the black sheep of their respective clan and learned to play to each other's strengths.

Kos was probably the best spymaster and scout she had ever met in her life. He wasn’t good in a fight but he could get enough information to either avoid it or have an insurmountable advantage over their opponents. He was, as she liked to joke, the brains and she was the brawn. Whenever she did try to train him how to fight or even just work in tandem during a battle, he vehemently refused. The most he would say was that he aided Izuna in the way she was talking about, and it didn’t end well. He swore that he would never fight again, which was a bit of a dramatic display but coming from Kos, it wasn’t strange. Achiko agreed to not push the subject because Kos was already doing more than enough for her and she respected him, not just as a fellow ninja, but as a friend.

She still wonders what had happened with Izuna and Kos, but Kos has shut her down everytime she asks. Achiko can tell that it’s not out of fear or sadness that he won’t tell her, it’s respect. It just goes to show what kind of man her uncle was; compassionate about those he cared about and merciless to those who threatened them.

She wishes she could meet him but more than anything, she wishes that Madara could meet his little brother one last time.

The thought of her father brings her to the present, cold apprehension trickling down her spine.

He should be about halfway to Iwa right now. Still in Konoha. Still relatively safe. After he reaches the border, it’s another full day's run to the village, probably two accounting for the breaks he will have to take to keep his strength up, which he must when entering enemy territory.

That means she has to wait two more days before she can send a letter. In those two days, she also has to decide if she will be using a Konoha falcon or Kos to deliver the message. Right now, the Konoha falcon is the better choice since keeping Kos summoned for that long seems… unlikely to happen.

Summons required very little amounts of chakra to stay in the mortal realm. The summoner serves as the link between the summoning and mortal realm, so if she runs out of chakra while Kos is halfway through his journey, he gets unsummoned. The letter would stay in the mortal realm and would probably be lost somewhere in the mountainous lands of Iwa or the thick forests that covered Konoha.

Chakra is like a muscle, in the sense that if it isn’t used, it shrivels away until there is nothing left. All humans have chakra, whether they be accomplished ninja or a hard working farmer.

Chakra is like a muscle so if she exercises it enough, she should be strong enough to send Kos to Iwagakure and back. In theory, if she repeats the same ones the medic had her do in the morning, she should slowly but build up her reserves.

Achiko gets to exercising.

///

Someone knocks at her door several hours into her simple chakra stretches. She’s been flaring it gently, holding it for a small amount of time and releasing it. The intervals between each have been getting shorter and shorter, while the time spent “stretching” it has been getting longer and longer. She can hold for a solid minute without feeling any type of pain or exertion.

Her good eye rises to the door as her left hand pats down her rumpled gown. She makes sure her brand scar is covered.

“Who is it?” she calls, even though there are very few people it could be. Perhaps Tobirama, but she highly doubts he would come back so soon after their disagreement or ever, if he wasn’t required to. With him being acting Hokage, there is no one who could require him to come, unless her father had left behind instructions. It’s possible, but Tobirama being at her bedside in the first place was a political gesture and not one that Madara would willingly endorse.

Shikari would have already barged in. There’s Kagami or the rest of her clan members who actually respect her, but no one would be high ranking enough except for-

“It’s Hikaku.”

Achiko sighs, filled with joy and also dread.

“Come in!”

The impending lecture is about to be the biggest one she’s ever received in her life. She resigns herself to acting glum when she first sees him, in hopes he won’t go as hard on her.

The wooden door creaks open to reveal Hikaku. It’s been a month since she’s last seen him and the only things that have changed are the length of his hair and the shadows under his eyes. He’s wearing a plum colored high collared shirt with simple black pants. His hitai-ate that is usually around his bicep is on his forehead. It’s crooked.

“I see my clan-head is dressed well for the position, eh?” She snickers, forgetting to pretend to be upset.

Hikaku remains silent. He eyes her, first from her casted leg, then to her arm, finally resting on her bandage eye.

“Do you have any idea…” Hikaku starts in a low voice, walking slowly towards her. Achiko cringes. Here it comes.

“How worried I’ve been these past few weeks?” Hikaku exhales, coming to a stop next to her and crossing his arms.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Achiko says quietly. She doesn’t have to pretend to be sorrowful about that.

“Come here.” Hikaku opens his arms. She leans into the hug without hesitation, left arm coming to rest around his waist. It’s an awkward position. Her ear rests on his sternum, where she can hear his heart beating. It’s oddly comforting.

Hikaku leans down and kisses her brow, a gesture she hasn’t been on the receiving end of since she was 7 years old and recovering from being kidnapped.

“I thought my little niece was gone for a while there…” he says shakily, arms still around her shoulders. “The healers lost you for a couple of minutes. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. Right next to…”

He makes a choked sound and clutches her a little tighter, but not tight enough to aggravate her injuries.

Hikaku doesn’t have to finish his sentence. She knows what the worst experience of his life was. The only person who took Uncle Izuna’s death harder than Hikaku was Madara himself. Achiko bites her lip, willing back tears for the umpteenth time that day.

Hikaku lets go of her suddenly and reaches up to swipe at his eyes roughly.

Achiko just stares. She can count the number of times she’s seen him cry on one hand.

“I…” He begins and stops, clearing his throat. “I know you’re expecting a scolding but… I assume you know about the traitor in our midst. There was nothing you could have done. They were specifically trained to fight you and you fought as hard as you could, and I’m proud of you.”

He looks down at her and then breaks eye contact to look towards the ceiling.

“How I want to make you promise that this won’t ever happen to you again, that you will remain safe and alive! And if I cannot make you promise, I will forbid you from fighting if that is what it takes to keep my family safe. But… it’s out of my control, just as it was out of yours. I know you will resent me for retiring you and that you will find some way to be on the battlefield again, because it is in your nature to fight and protect. All I can do is ask is that you try your best to stay alive and push you so that-”

His voice cracks and he pauses to take a deep breath.

“All I’m saying is…” he stops again, seemingly at a loss for words. He looks down at his hands and finally at her, eyes full of an emotion she can’t describe.

Hikaku is never at a loss for words.

“I understand, Uncle,” she says solemnly. She does understand. She would feel the same should he be in her position.

“I’m not sure you do…” he says quietly, his usual composure returning. “Achiko, when you were discovered, Madara was about to abandon the village and go rogue. This is a fact known only by me and even I came across this without his knowledge. The fact that you were his daughter caused him to rethink his plans, and then he started to care for you which caused him to stay for good. Now to him, you are just as precious as Izuna, if not more. In the event of your death, I won’t be the only one not able to function. Madara cannot handle another loss like that. I say this because he is like a brother to me, but I fear for the safety of the village if he loses you. Our ocular powers are stronger the more we love, yes, but they are more lethal if we feel heartbreak.”

Achiko is speechless. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was… Even Hikaku--?

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“My father is a good man!” Achiko whispers, shaking fingers curling into the flimsy gown. “He would never hurt Konoha or the people!”

She expects him to look ashamed for even thinking such a vile thought of someone he loves.

Hikaku just looks sad.

“Achiko, I have known your father for a very long time. He is a good man, indeed. But the constant wars and losing his brothers… It’s changed him. When he was but a young man, he had to take up leadership of the clan. All those deaths at the hand of the Senju and his brothers being mercilessly assassinated as children… He is a good man Achiko, I will not ever disagree with you on this, but you are the only reason he lives right now, the only reason is he doesn’t kill Tobirama and break the treaty we have with the Senju. He wants a better world for you, so that you and your children may grow up in peace. If you are gone, what is to stop him from taking revenge on those who robbed him of his happiness?”

Achiko wants to refuse to believe it, so she tries to hold onto her stubborn belief that her father would remain the same person she’s ever known, but even she can’t deny that her death would change things. Just how much, she doesn’t know, but she refuses to believe that he would annihilate an entire village full of innocent people.

Her uncle must notice the warring emotions on her face because he rests a hand on her shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not, but you have to be careful from now on. There is an assassin calling for your blood. I believe your father already told you, but you must not leave the village under any circumstances. Always be vigilant. And I know you will argue but I have arranged for you to move into the Hokage residence after you are cleared to leave the hospital, which I’m told is going to be in about three weeks. It is the most protected place in Konoha and you will have Tobirama to guard you. I would tell you to move back into the family home, but no one is going to be there to stay with you as I will be spending most of my time in council meetings or in T&I.”

Achiko takes a moment to gather her thoughts and questions.

“Are you sure there's an assassination threat?” she asks, wanting to make sure she wasn’t hiding from empty threats and hearsay.

Hikaku sighs.

“We’ve made progress on the case. We’ve captured someone who seems to be the mole.”

Now it makes sense why Shikari had never shown up to deliver the paperwork Achiko had requested. She had felt Kos unsummon a few hours ago, but when no Nara heir came to see her, she chalked it up to poor chakra control, believing the message to never have been delivered.

“Well, who was it?”

Hikaku sighs again, with more force.

“That’s where it gets complicated. See, the girl’s name is Uchiha Bwako. She works in T&I and is a higher ranking member, not enough to get access to troop movement records or interrogation transcripts, but high enough that she knew the vague schedules of ranking shinobi.”

Achiko’s hand flies up to her mouth.

“One of us?”

“That isn’t the most difficult part. I cross-checked with the clan registry and found that we had no Uchiha Bwako in our records. At least none that are alive. The one listed in our registry was listed as missing in battle a year ago.”

“You can’t mean…”

“Yes, I do. Somehow Iwakagure made a body double of her and implanted her memories into this… fake. We don’t even know if the girl is a willing accomplice or under some genjutsu forcing her to give up information.”

“Hold on, if she has all of the original Bwako’s memories, then how are you so sure that she’s a double? As much as I don’t want to say it, isn’t it more likely that the real Bwako is the mole?”

“She doesn’t have the sharingan. Hikaku says simply. “Our records tell us she is supposed to have awakened her second tomoe only a day before being declared missing.”

“Oh kami…” Achiko mutters, resting her forehead in hand.

“It seems that Iwakagure failed to realize that when creating the duplicate of our clan member.” Hikaku says very softly, which means he’s really upset.

“I…Hikaku what is going on?” Achiko asks, suddenly afraid. “How is this possible?”

If Iwakagure is capable of something like this, then those assassination threats suddenly seem a lot more legitamate.

“I don’t know Achiko. I wish I could tell you.”

Another thought strikes Achiko.

“Madara, Hashirama and the rest of them, they’re all in the middle of Iwa, you don’t think they will get replaced?”

“I doubt Hashirama or Madara would let that happen. It would also be fairly obvious if either of them got replaced, they have such unique personalities.” Hikaku says dryly.

She appreciates the try at humour but she’s definitely going to have night terrors about this particular topic. She tries to stave off the impending bout of anxiety with another question, hopefully giving her mind something else to focus on.

“So I’m off bedrest in three weeks? I thought the doctor said three months?” she asks faintly.

Hikaku’s passive expression doesn’t change while he moves to sit down on the bench opposite her bed.

“It was at my behest that the doctors sped up your treatment. I thought it best for you to be able to defend yourself. Secure as the Hokage residence may be, it does not mean that it is impenetrable. Tobirama will not always be there to guard you, either.”

The protection seals had been created by Mito herself, but Achiko was still shaken from the discovery of body snatching being possible, and done on one of her clanmates. She knew Bwako’s mother, a sweet old lady who sold the village’s sweetest grapes in the main market. She wasn’t sure how to look her in the eye ever again, knowing what fate had befallen her daughter.

It was not such a bad idea to move into the Hokage residence, however cowardly it may feel; not to mention how uncomfortable it would be living with the White Demon.

Achiko holds back a hysterical laugh and pinches her nose. What has her life become? Playing house with her uncle’s killer whilst hiding from assassins specifically trained to best her in combat, who were sent by a country who figured out how to create duplicates of people.

She’s still contemplating the absurdity of her life when a messenger falcon flies in, landing on Hikaku’s shoulder.

Her uncle unravels the missive attached to the bird’s leg.

A pause.

He exhales slowly through his nose, rolling the small scroll back up and tucking it into his pocket. The falcon rises with a flurry of wings and flies out the window.

“I must take my leave, but I’m beyond relieved you are alright. I will be sending a guard to watch over you while you recover in the hospital and have Mito set up some temporary seals to keep you safe.” he says, briskly walking over to give her a quick hug.

“Don’t forget Achiko. The fate of Konoha rests with you. Stay alive.”

That’s all he says before shunshinning away, leaving Achiko alone.

Chapter Text

The next three weeks seem to fly by. Achiko’s days are spent doing physical and chakra exercises and sleeping and praying for her father.

She wasn’t particularly devout but Hikaku’s words had frightened her enough to pray to Izanami-no-Mikoto,the goddess of death, to spare her father’s life and to Izanagi-no-Mikoto, the god of creation and life, to keep everyone safe from harm.

Achiko had requested for Kos to bring her some incense, which she lit as an offering to the gods and recited prayer after prayer, the words clumsy on her tongue, a remnant of a childhood with her mother she barely remembered. She didn’t remember the proper ritual to pay respect, instead hoping that the gods would accept her genuineness as compensation.

The very next day, the gods seemed to smile upon her as she received a long letter from her father which promised her everything was going smoothly, stating that they had just arrived at the Tsuchikage’s residence and detailing the journey. He also admitted that they might be at Iwa for much longer than a week. The message arrived via a small, orange fox, which wasn’t unusual in itself since Hashirama had a tendency to borrow his wife’s summons, but the fact that Madara had acquiesced to using them instead of the village falcons was… new.

Achiko knew it made sense though. Summons had a very small chance of being intercepted with messages, whereas a falcon had a high risk of being caught, especially during a time as tumultuous as now. By using Mito’s summons, Madara had ensured that Achiko understood that the words on the paper were his, and no one else's.

It had taken her a good while to write a response, which she sent off within an hour of receiving her father’s letter. She watched the summons leave, and continued staring outside long after the small fox had scurried out of the window.

Konoha looked beautiful. There were children from different clans playing together in the courtyard outside the primary school that had been built a few months ago. If she looked closer, she could see children with unmarked clothing and less ninja-like clothes hesitantly joining in.

The market square was also visible from where she sat, shaded with golden and burnt orange hues by the sunset. Civilians and shinobi mingled there, striking up conversation with the shopkeepers and even each other. Pleasant smiles, friendly faces, and easier laughs was all she saw when she looked at her fellow villagemen. They were happy.

It was peaceful.

///

Moving into the Hokage residence was an awkward affair. There were three bedrooms but Hikaku had ordered Achiko and Tobirama to sleep in the same one for safety reasons. When she tried to reason with him, he pulled rank on her; which he normally never did.

So at Hikaku’s behest a small cot was dragged into the largest bedroom. Achiko tried to look at the bright side: at least she didn’t have to share a bed with Tobirama.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to sharing beds. She had done it quite a lot during the war with her squadmates. In the field where sleep was a luxury, she hadn’t hesitated to share a bed-roll with someone who she trusted her life with. She found that when you were bone-tired and injured, it didn’t matter male or female, old or young, a comrade was a comrade. Technically Tobirama was a comrade, but they weren’t in the warzone and she didn’t really trust Tobirama with her life, just the fact that even he wouldn’t risk the political shit-storm that would ensue if she died in her sleep.

Achiko was well enough to walk unassisted, only requiring short breaks if moving for a long period of time or doing an exerting activity. Her eyesight in her injured eye was slowly getting better though it was still weak, but she kept it covered and had adjusted well to using only one eye. Hell, she had adjusted to only turning the sharingan on in one eye, which she didn’t do often since she almost passed out the first time She still did have a very slight limp in her right leg due to her tibia not being fully healed yet, along with a variety of other aches and pains that were easier to ignore.

These things didn’t go unnoticed by Tobirama, who seemed to appear out of nowhere the second she tried to build up her strength or even exerted herself the tiniest bit. Achiko half suspected that the man had some sort of seal on her, even though sealing on skin was only possible for seal masters on the same level as Mito. The last she checked, Tobirama was nowhere near her level, but she couldn’t be sure.

Other than the fact that Tobirama lectured her to death whenever he caught her about to exercise or even slightly breathing hard, living in the Hokage residence wasn’t that bad. Achiko spent her days doing the gentle stretches the doctors had demonstrated and reading. She wasn’t much of a reader, but seeing as she could barely walk up the stairs, she couldn’t really leave the building which left her to her own devices.

At first she asked Hikaku if she could help with clan paperwork, to which he obliged. It was mostly menial work: reviewing documents and balancing clan accounts. There were a lot of issues that were ignored due to the war, such as building repairs, that were being taken care of. She usually finished later in the morning, which left her the whole afternoon and evening free.

Achiko had tried to get Shikari to let her in on the status of the spy problem, but Shikari was close-lipped, claiming that the less-people that knew, the better. Achiko had tried to convince her best friend to spill, but Shikari was weirdly adamant on not telling her. It was probably for a good reason, which is why Achiko didn’t push.

That left her with nothing to do, except read, rest and wait for letters from her father.

////

Six days into her stay at the Hokage residence, she is startled awake by Tobirama's sudden shunshin into the bedroom.

Her eyes snap open as she feels the surge of chakra, hand instinctively grabbing the kunai under her pillow. She immediately starts sensing for any possible assailants while waiting for Tobirama to speak. Usually, he's gone before she wakes up, and he goes to sleep after her, though she knows he works mostly in an adjoining office. Sometimes, he leaves on business, in which case two guards are stationed to protect her. She hates feeling like a helpless civilian being babysat, but she understands the reasons behind it, so she tamps down on her anger.

For the most part, Tobirama makes sure to leave her alone unless she's blatantly going against doctor’s orders. Achiko is pretty sure she's actually following instructions this time, so this appearance is unusual.

The man stands in the middle of the room, facing her, wearing a strange expression. Without warning, he moves towards her, reaching out with a hand.

Achiko instinctively presses back into the bed, bringing up the kunai in the same motion. Both shinobi freeze.

Tobirama breaks the silence first. “Apologies. You appear to be bleeding. Do I have your permission to conduct a scan?
”
Achiko swallows, slowly lowering the kunai. She takes stock of herself. Looking at her upper body and the covers, she can't see any blood stains, and she can't smell any either. Her stitches were taken out already, and there was no chance those wounds reopened during her sleep.

When she figures out what Tobirama had sensed, she lets out a soft ‘oh’.

Tobirama mistakes that as assent and lays a hand on her brow.

“I’m making sure you haven’t been poisoned,” he says stiffly. “I was here the whole time but…just to be certain.”

Meanwhile, Achiko starts internally panicking. The uncomfortable stickiness between her thighs and dull ache in her abdomen had nothing to do with her injuries, and could only mean one thing. Usually kunoichi had irregular cycles, due to the immense physical stress they put their bodies under, so instead of monthly, it was more like once every two or three months. How unfortunate that it had decided to make an appearance now. It was nothing to be ashamed about, but she wanted to keep it private from Tobirama.

Tobirama's hand feels cool against her forehead as he performs the scan, his chakra gently coursing through her. Achiko tries to push aside her embarrassment and focus on steadying her breathing. She can feel Tobirama's eyes on her, his expression unreadable.

After what feels like an eternity, Tobirama withdraws his hand, his face still serious. "You seem to be in good health," he states, his voice clipped.

Achiko offers a small, strained smile. "Thank you," she murmurs, feeling a mix of relief and discomfort.

Tobirama nods once before silently retreating from the room, leaving Achiko alone with her thoughts. She sighs, knowing she'll have to find a way to ask him for menstrual supplies, since she physically couldn’t leave the residence on her own. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to, especially since it would have to be in soon, as this wasn’t something that could wait.

She sighs again and makes to get out of bed.

Her first stop is the bathroom. She rinses off the dried blood and finds some clean bandages to use until she can get proper supplies. The gauze isn’t as absorbent as the special pieces of fabric that were designed for women and not as secure either, without a menstrual belt. She curses her fate once again. If she were out in the field, running missions, she wouldn’t have had to deal with the issue of her cycle but since she has been under a considerably less amount of stress, her body has resumed its natural functions.

Achikos makes her way to Tobirama’s office, where she senses him. The hall is illuminated by soft moonlight, meaning that it is still really early morning. She usually wakes up a few hours after dawn, seeing that she doesn’t really have anything to do besides limited paperwork and recuperating, so being awake this early is unusual for her nowadays.

As she passes the kitchen, her stomach growls which causes her to hesitate.

Talking to Tobirama after a nice warm meal sounds a lot better than just going on an empty stomach.

Decision made, she strides into the kitchen and locates the rice. After washing it thoroughly, she sets it in a covered pot to cook on the small stove, igniting it with the nearby lighter. A twinge of bitterness washes over her at the memory of the first time she realized she needed a lighter instead of relying on a small katon jutsu. However, now it's just another aspect of her daily life that she's grown accustomed to.

She takes another pot out, as well as dashi, miso paste, and green onions. Making miso soup is second nature to her now, as it was something that she enjoyed at home.

After everything is finished cooking, Achiko sits down to a quick breakfast. The food is delicious and soothing. However, her appetite isn’t as hearty as it used to be, and there is still a lot of miso and rice left over in the pots.

Achiko considers her options. She could simply store the leftovers for another meal, but then a thought occurs to her. Hashirama is always going on about how his little brother never eats and that the only way he would is if somebody sat him down and made him. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Tobirama was already doing her a service by offering his protection while his father was gone. And he was going to go out of his way to get her supplies. Being an Uchiha, she knows better than anyone the importance of repaying debts, nevermind the fact that he was a Senju. But even then, the Uchiha and the Senju were bound by an alliance now and Achiko couldn't deny that it would be better for the village if both clan heirs were on good terms. With this in mind, Achiko decides to plate some of the leftover miso soup and rice for Tobirama. It was no sweat off her brow and she figures that if he's anything like his brother describes, he may appreciate a warm meal.

Achiko sets about plating some of the leftover miso soup and rice for Tobirama. She carefully arranges the food on a plate. She even adds a few extra garnishes for presentation.

After the tray is carefully balanced in her hands, she heads for the Senju’s office.

Three raps on the door and then:

“Come in.”

Achiko steels herself for the approaching conversation. Please Kami, let it be over fast, she silently prays, as she slowly opens the door.

She is met with the sight of Tobirama sitting at a large wooden desk, probably Hashirama grown. There are several neat stacks of paper on top, as well as taller stacks pushed against the walls. There are a multitude of shelves behind him holding several color-coded scrolls. Tobirama is currently holding open a red scroll with a recognizable character at the top. The stamp of the Tsuchikage, which means it could only be a missive from Iwa.

“What does it say?” the words are out of her mouth before she even realizes.

Tobirama’s eyes glance up at her then return to the scroll . A second later his eyes are back on her, a look of mild surprise on his features.

“It’s a routine update from Iwa. Nothing of immediate concern.” he replies.

“Anything interesting?” she presses, stepping closer to see if she can catch a glimpse of what’s written.

Tobirama, the bastard, rolls up the scroll and sets it aside. His gaze meets hers. “Just the usual diplomatic formalities,” he replies.

Achiko nods, though she can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to the missive than what he’s letting on. She decides not to push further, knowing that Tobirama isn’t one to give up information easily. She’ll find out what it says her own way.

All that matters is that her father is safe. If something was happening in Iwa, she would have known by now. Hell, if something was happening in Iwa, Tobirama would drop everything and hiraishin there as fast as he could. Hashirama was there too, and as much as she would like to believe that Tobirama was heartless, it was clear as day that he loved his brother.

With a final forlorn glance at the scroll, she sets down the breakfast tray in front of Tobirama.

“You probably haven’t eaten so…” she says, taking a step back and wringing her hands.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t even look at her. What an asshole.

Tobirama eyes the meal for a moment before reaching for the chopsticks, his movements precise and controlled. He takes a small sip of the miso soup, nodding in approval at the taste.

Achiko figures that now is as good a time as any to ask.

“I have a request...” She starts hesitantly. “I need to ask for your help with something.”

Tobirama pauses, his expression unreadable. "What is it?" he asks, setting down his chopsticks.

"I need menstrual supplies," she says, her voice steady despite her inwardly cringing.

Tobirama's lips purse, but he doesn't hesitate in his response. "Of course," he says simply, his tone matter-of-fact. "I'll have someone fetch them for you. Just let me know what exactly you need."

As Achiko lists off the materials, she suddenly feels grateful that Tobirama can actually be a decent human being sometimes. He didn’t make her feel lesser-than, just because she’s a woman as many others have done. But one act of kindness wouldn’t take away the fact that he had torn apart her family before she could barely stand.

Tobirama had produced a pen and loose sheaf of paper from somewhere. With a pulse of his chakra, one of the hidden bodyguards appeared, took the list, and vanished again, presumably to go get her the products.

“Anything else?” Tobirama inquires, returning to his meal.

Achiko pauses, glancing at the orange scroll from Iwa. The beginnings of a plan start to formulate in her mind.

“Do you mind if I help you with paperwork?” she asks, praying that he’ll say yes.

Tobirama looks taken aback, or as taken aback as some like him can look, and she can just see the incoming rejection on his face.

But before he can respond, Achiko quickly adds “I've been assisting with my clan's paperwork, and I could focus on the less pressing matters like mission assignments so you can concentrate on the more important things.”

He considers her request for a few moments, his gaze thoughtful.

"I suppose there's no harm in it," he finally concedes, his tone more acquiescent than she anticipated. "There's a stack of paperwork over there," he gestures to a corner of his desk, "if you'd like to start."

Achiko nods, moving to the indicated stack of papers, which is piled up next to the door. As she turns her back to the interim Hokage, who returns his attention back to his meal, a sly smile tugs at her lips.