Eras (MadaNaru)

Chapter 14: Blossoming

Anywhere he could account for favour was rare, in past what held him beholden was fear in progress. Even still in times of monument and graves of stone there was trepidation when peace was found. Among his own, to the south, west, east and beyond the encompassment of knowledge. Elders would cast themselves as those of greatest wisdom in conduct of suspicious inclination and intent of spoils gained. Allying themselves to the promise of a Senju spouse before fleeing within the forest for the strongest of young to battle thee enemies. Clan mentality bathed in selfish needs and wants was ever lingering from in his father's brutality. Words could whisper hiddenly forth from his Mother's long dead bosom a creaking of her rotted lips forsaking all he had built for the good of generations forward. Questioning in nightmares of killing, ripping flesh with his blade, smearing his own skin with soiled blood only to raise forth his gunbai for the persuement of evermore sacrifice. Woken to laughter in joy encased with ignorance as children ran in the district not concerned upon their numbered years, plagued instead by however their parents may die in a struggle they could not yet fathom.

Conversations once thought so plain in a child's company now became innocent smiles before a whisper was spoken instead. Weapons were still given, training still rigorous, filled with necessity of cruelty, yet so rare to be implemented. Foes to the children, threats incarnate would be smothered from burning into fire by those who knew war. By the parents of the children in protection, as it had never truly been before.

Prisoners of war, regardless of hailing's were kept far from view, and any proceedings from there were done in seclusion.

Madara could recall with vivacity having been held captive in clenched conflict. Young at ten cycles, a warrior of his clan he had been held by those known well by all in the days of continuous war. The Kiniki clan, multitude of twisted generations who looked upon those separate from their own as the meat to feed their bellies, a means of survival. He had been captured alongside his sister, a brazen woman so called: Makarov. He could see within the bounds of his own closed lids her spiked hair, shortened and so alike his own, eyes of age fierce in anger no matter the enemy. So imprinted was the way she smelled, yet, it was so very gruesome, marred by the potency of her smoldering flesh. This was because of his own eyes refusing to watch. Later, he remembers watching their -his, captors eating, and he had no conscious thought to withhold his screams of weakness. Of all the Kiniki, none of them took it in good humour, only having the mind to beat him until he would quiet.  'Tenderized meat .' They had mocked, a phrase so wedged in his thoughts that he could not think to his sister's memory without it calling loud in his ears. Accompanying his memories of her was the scent of her cooking flesh and the pained cries she'd let free when they skinned her alive.

Somewhere within the mountains of the North he knew them to still be there. An incident that had been reported on with the greatest of caution. It did nothing to curve his ire, his family knew of his hatred far more than he himself understood its depths. Even now there was concern that war would be decreed without provocation. They knew not what had happened that day, simply that he and Makarov had been kidnapped by a rival clan, and that was all the detail put forth. His mother had been the only one informed. She in her rational was of greater emotional control then his father, and he dare not speak the truth. No matter how much Izuna had pleaded, Kou -his brother,- had insisted they knew the reason for her death. There was a block of thought that he could never free himself from. Promises of 'one day,' became so few, and more of continued to encase him in a deep hatred for any clan inclined northwards from the Great Grass Valley.

"Madara-sama..?"  Spoken so calmly, confused, and flustered from under him. Grasped tightly by the waist, and pressed to him in intimacy, so inappropriately. A scandalous glimpse into glimmering eyes had him turning his head, the flames rising so far from his neck. Speeches, lectures from his mother loudly pronouncing themselves at his wrongdoing. A respectful stance to an omega of good breeding, the need for propriety, the display of respect and strength in true alpha character. His proposal had been spoken in haste, made without forethought, ungraceful and so very callous, he could barely recognize his own action as that of a sane man. Nevermind himself.