* THIS IS A COPYRIGHTED STORY OF MINE, MIDNIGHT_LILAC, PUBLISHED ON WATTPAD. IF YOU FIND IT ON ANY OTHER WEBSITE, IT HAS BEEN COPIED/REPUBLISHED WITHOUT MY CONSENT AND YOU ARE LIKELY AT A RISK OF A MALWARE ATTACK. IF YOU WISH TO READ THIS STORY IN I...
Placing the table aside, I crouched next to him to gaze at his face while wondering how to wake him. Shoko san had said that he was tired, and he did look tired and was sleeping it off. I didn't want to disturb his rest but I also didn't think that it was a good idea for him to skip his meal.
While I thought of how to wake him, I recalled what I had seen in him this morning while I was heading out for my morning chore of mopping. He had been gone for most of the week for fighting, as I had been told. His presence had been overwhelmingly frightening as he had walked through the hallways. He had been clad in red armor and there were splatters of blood all over his body, even some across his face. His features were in a deep frown, his Sharingan glowing menacingly. It had, unfortunately, reminded me of when he had used his Sharingan on me, rising a primal fear of him that I had to convince myself was no longer necessary.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He had not spoken to anyone before retiring to his room and slamming the door shut. Asleep now, his eyes lightly closed and his expression relaxed, I wondered if he was the same person as this morning.
It was rude of me to stare at him while he was sleeping but I couldn't help but take the moment to notice the few scars on his hands that were ungloved, on his arms and a bit of his calves that were uncovered. I could not imagine how it must be to fight against many who wished to only kill one another, and how it must be to do anything and everything to come out of it alive. The shinobi of this world lived a very tough life.
Thinking that I had stared at him long enough, I said in a soft voice, "Madara sama?"
He did not twitch in the slightest, so I called his name again. When he did not show any signs of waking to merely calling his name, I placed a hand gently on his upper arm.
"Madara sama, I've got you dinner," I said.
It was a few seconds before he groaned, his face scrunching up. He shifted and slowly opened his eyes. I let go of his arm and watched as he sat up while ruffling his hair. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual, indicating that they were stained - I guessed that using his Sharingan was not without repercussions.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath before he met my gaze. "Why is it that you are here?"
"I brought you dinner, Madara sama. Shoko san left on a mission, and she asked me to bring you dinner in her place."
A deep sigh left him. He ran his hand through his hair to settle the messy tousles. He massaged his neck and shoulders that were tense though did not seem in the least comfortable at the moment. His body was noticeably stiff - I could understand that it was bothering him, because I, too, often dealt with the physical tension that came with doing a lot of work or sitting long hours at a desk. Of course, the intensity of what I did was not as much as Madara sama's but it could be used for comparison.
"Would you like a massage?" I asked. "It can help release the tension in your muscles."
"Massage?" he questioned, meeting my eyes with a frown and narrowing eyes.
