Consumed By These Erubescent Flames [ Uchiha Madara ] -Alleviation 3-

Madara turned his face away from the clan leader to stare out the window at the passing streets. Even in the night the sidewalks were alive with people. He was familiar with the patterns of their lives. Now he felt out of sync with that world he had known. He could hear things he had never heard before, a barrage of sounds from insect chirps to whispered conversations. He was aware of things he had never noticed before. Textures. Colours. Little everyday things like the brush of hair against his cheek. Hearts beating. The rush of blood in veins. The bark on trees. The way the wind blew through foliage.

Just what side-effects did the intake of her blood have? His senses were heightened, but mainly fixated on the beating of one individual's heart. He could sense Hazuri's presence, her heartbeat. In his attempt in using her blood to his advantage, he had unknowingly forged a connection he had no knowledge of.

"Madara." his black gaze darted to the older man. "A squad will be returning early this morning; they are injured. Bring me the girl, understood?"

"Of course," Madara answered absently. He was growing restless, despite it being past midnight. He had no desire to sleep.

He moved away from the older man, quick to avoid his lectures. He stepped over the threshold, holding the doorknob in his left hand, closing the door swiftly, almost soundless.

He had known the night as a time when many battles occurred under the cover of darkness, yet now it called to him seductively, whispered to him continually. Embrace me. Embrace me. He belonged in the night. It enfolded him within its darkness as in the softest of blankets. The stars overhead were like glittering diamonds, a kaleidoscope of amazing beauty.

What had she done to him? No, what had he done to himself? He didn't know the half of her abilities, but he knew—could testify with what he was experiencing right now—that it not only healed, but also raised his senses; made them accurate and aware of everything around him. If this was truly the secret of the Ginchishio, than they were natural assassins. Yet, no one knew of their existence. Were they compassionate, or dangerous?

Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?

"Get up." Madara was insistent. Hazuri didn't move at first. On a closer glance he could tell how pale her skin was, and how languid her movements were. But when she refused to open her eyes he took hold of her arm, hauling her up until she was dangling in front of him. Her once bright green eyes were now a tint of gray, lacklustre.

"Do not give me that sullen expression," he told her in the emotionless voice he almost always used. He forced her to follow him out of the room by dragging her with him by her wrist, his grip on her like a burning shackle. Along the way she stumbled, threatened to fall, but was caught by Madara who would grunt at her to show his frustration. His superior would not be pleased if he is given a nearly dead woman.

"You really are the lowest life form I've ever encountered. You have no right to force me, to drag me around like this." She countered.

A sinister smirk curved his lips. "It seems you are not morose enough to shut your nasty mouth," he observed dryly. "And perhaps not lively enough to take notice of how you are clinging desperately to me."

"Don't flatter yourself. It gets old." She sniped back, forcefully trying to tear herself away from him. But his strong, masculine form was the only thing aiding her in support, holding her composure together by a mere thread.

"As does denial." He said it quietly, patiently, his voice black velvet.

She was silent for a moment, gazing about. The morning was dark, dreary, she knew whatever it was that Madara rudely woke her up for would be something just as gloomy.

She trod on the mad red flowers that were strewn on the path, ignored the sly silver slide of a snake down the trunk of a tree. She saw, sensed, scented both, but they were of no interest to her. Madara brought her inside, through several halls, and only stopped at one room where several wounded men lay in a line, being taken care of by both female and male medics, she guessed.

"They are dying." The clan leader said calmly. His gaze rested on Hazuri, who immediately glared. "Hazuri, will you watch and let them die, or will you help them with the ability you have been born with?"

'Giving into his commands, being a mere tool, or allowing someone to die because of my pride?'

Slowly she stepped toward the first man, his chest heaving, blood oozing from his shoulder wound. The sight was nauseating, but the thick odour of blood kept her from averting her eyes and turning away.

She touched the man's pale face. His skin was hot, burning, pained. She turned her head to the rest of the wounded men, and found herself defeated. Utterly defeated.

'I'm sorry, brother, but I do not have your iron will.'

The clan leader watched as she started her transfusion, one after another, until all of them had received her healing blood.

"Well done, Hazuri." Said the man absently, his teeth crunching pleasurably into the apple he'd gotten himself.

'Lazy bastard.' She thought, pulling her palm away from the last of the wounded men who had been given her blood because she didn't have the heart to refuse.

Madara watched as well. Master of all he surveyed. She staggered toward him after healing every one of those men, pale, sickly, drained of all colour. Her eyes were dull, glazed. As she reached him, her legs gave in, and he carefully picked her up. He looked down at her face, her eyelids already closed. He ran a caressing hand over her silky hair and down her soft cheek to lay his palm against her throat. His fingers curled slowly around her neck, his thumb feathering the delicate line of her jaw. Then his conscience kicked in, a small annoyance he'd never been able to shake. On the heels of conscience nipped the lowering admission that the fantasy he'd just outlined would bore him brainless in a week.

The clan leader's dark gaze wavered and became fixated on Madara. His brow crinkled. "An amusing sight. You were always a weak man, Madara." He deliberately scorned.

"If I were so weak, you would never have begged for my help during the clan battle a year ago."

"No," he agreed, finishing the apple and eagerly licking the juice from his fingers. "Physically you are one of the strongest of our clan, but your attitude, your personality, it saddens me to say that you are an unpredictable man with no real purpose apart from providing your powers to your clan."

Hazuri lay perfectly still in Madara's strong hold, paying attention to everything around her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her muscles quivered. She could feel Madara's fingers tightening around her arm like a vice.

"Bring me back, please," she whispered into his chest.

Madara shrugged carelessly before he could stop himself. He did not seek approval or protection from anyone. He turned his back on his clan leader, and the rest of the Uchiha men, carrying Hazuri back outside into the cold morning breeze.

"Your complexion and composure drastically decreased in a matter of days." Madara observed bluntly.

"Do not attempt to lecture me about the things you know very little of." She answered, just as blunt as him.

"Then enlighten me? Or do you wish for me to bring you back?" A question followed by a smooth threat. Of course she didn't want to be in the same room with that man, the clan leader, again.

"You know how much I love abusive men," she said, straight-faced.

He smirked. She wasn't condemning him as she should have. "They don't bite." But they do screw with your mind.

"I do," she said, the words low and soft. She squirmed suddenly. "Release me. Please. I feel very-" She broke off, not wanting to admit to feeling defenceless, but the word shimmered between them all the same. "Madara. I want to talk about this and not feel at such a disadvantage."

His hard mouth curved, taking away the almost cruel, implacable edge as if it had never been. Slowly he lowered her feet to the ground. She was below his length and had to tip her chin up to look at him. "Do you feel at more of an advantage now?" he asked softly, amusement in his black-velvet voice.

Hazuri glanced away from him toward the thick forest. Freedom was so close. Madara wasn't touching her, not even in her mind by using those dreadful eyes; he was simply standing there beside her. Tall. Muscular. Sinfully beautiful.

"My blood runs faster, works harder than your normal blood. The level of Iron in my blood lowers quickly, and it slows down my heartbeat, my blood becoming thicker. If not compensated with normal blood, my heartbeat would simply stop." She said it without expression.

He eyed her somewhat dubiously. "Am I supposed to be frightened?"

Hazuri looked affronted. "I do not lie about my bloodline limit," she replied with dignity. "However, if you'd rather not trust me..."

Was she trying to counter his tedious habit of threatening her? He gave her a wry look. She could not be serious.

Upon seeing his obviously annoyed expression, she decided to just prove it to him. "Hold still." She ordered him crisply. He found himself doing as she said for the sake of it. He wanted to know more.

He listened to the birds chirping as the darkness slowly drained away and light bled into the sky. She forcefully tugged at the black fabric below his heavy crimson armour, barely being able to reach his neck. She could feel his pulse, it was calm and unwavering even as she bared her teeth, prominent canines discernible to him. They weren't large, but larger than average. And definitely sharper.

"Such a small creature with such sharp fangs." He was teasing her once again.

To her chagrin Hazuri felt herself blushing at the mere reminder of her height. He grinned, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

Her teeth scraped the vulnerable line of his throat, followed the path down to his collarbone. At Madara's quick indrawn breath she feasted, hungry and aching with need. Her hands bit into his bulkier arms as he held her still. White-hot heat spread, piercing pain that moved to sweet ecstasy as her teeth found his pulse. He didn't expect it to feel so strangely good, apart from the fact she was draining him of his own blood.

At some point she reluctantly pulled back. Although her body was still firmly pressed against his, her hands holding onto him as if the earth below her feet vanished. At first she didn't want to move at all, but then it caught her eye that the small puncture wounds were gone.

"You dirty fiend!" she exclaimed, completely bewildered, feeling deceived.

Madara grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming. Hazuri held her breath, afraid to move or speak, not wanting to shatter the moment, but then her temper set in. Her need for blood was sedated, her complexion was healthy, her power restored. But her green eyes were blazing fire at the arrogant man in front of her.

"You were kind enough to offer your help to me," he told her steadily, his tone never wavering. "Who was I to refuse?"

She smiled, tilting her head to one side. "Perhaps not, Madara," she agreed. "But I am not the angel you think me. And I am more than willing to prove it."

His heated gaze went to her face, studying every detail, every expression, every emotion in her light eyes. "You are quite a laborious woman." He stated, but instantly had to duck to avoid the sudden kick whirling at him. So she wanted to fight him?

He followed up with a punch, which was blocked by a sudden dark red wall emerging in front of her. He heard the distinctive snapping sounds coming from his knuckles, and grimaced as he pulled back. That was a careless move on his behalf.

"Which elements do you merge to use this bloodline limit?" he inquired, activating his Sharingan.

"Fire and wind." She attempted to kick his feet in order to disturb his balance, but he merely disappeared from her sight and range. He'd forgotten a minor detail; she'd taken his blood, she could sense him anywhere. However, she also remembered that he was able to sense her as well.

'Fuck.' She dispersed in white petals as flames were shot towards her, burning the remaining petals to ashes.

She could tell he was fire-natured, but she didn't know it was the Uchiha clan that was notorious for fire-element techniques. But, he was up against another fire-natured shinobi. She flew back with her elbow, aiming high for the throat, but having her arm caught in his hold. He heaved her up into the air, once airborne he brought his hand to his mouth to launch his fire technique.

"Don't take me lightly." He heard the gentle female voice say, the next thing he registered was a burst of wind that blew his technique back at him. Scowling, he was forced to use his speed to leap up until he was standing on a branch. Once again he was forced to move when a rain of dark red needles were shot at him.

A horrible underestimation. As he landed back on the ground, a creature pounced on top of him, forcing him to fall to the ground with a pair of claws sinking into his chest. When he looked up he was looking straight into golden eyes and a set of sharp teeth. Its fur was black, and its stripes were red. A tiger; he should have known. She was a tigress by herself, no doubt her summoning would equal her blazing personality.

"I was never good with oversized felines." With his Sharingan he commanded the animal to get off him. It did, and proceeded to turn against its mistress. Hazuri froze. Madara rose to his feet, putting his armour back in place. The claw-wounds healed quickly. She inwardly cursed herself over and over for falling for a simple transformation technique and a black wolf that seemed oh-so intelligent.

The tiger, who had been influenced by his eye technique, tried to attack her. She evaded the attack, following it up by creating a liquid mass, infusing it with her chakra, and shaping it into a perfect replica of the tiger. They collided, Hazuri trying her best not to harm her own summoning yet keep it at a distance as well.

"Impressive." He regarded her steadily with his crimson orbs, which she tried hard to avoid. She knew he could end this fight with a single glance, and she wasn't about to let that happen.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to keep this up for long, quite on the contrary to the red-eyed man, Hazuri pressed her hands together. "Cancel," she muttered, both her replica tiger and real tiger vanishing.

"Do you surrender?" he asked placidly. She countered it with a glare and quick forming of hand seals. Madara looked down, finding his legs trapped and slowly moving upward to immobilize him. Much to his dismay, she was dashing towards him, ready to wipe that smug off his face.

Hazuri's kunai was blocked with a katana he'd raised from the scabbard hanging at his hips.

'I didn't even hear or see him raising it..'

She bit down on her index finger, drawing blood. The next thing he registered was the sudden movements of her finger over his chest, leaving a mark. A kanji of some kind.

"I was hoping I didn't have to use this," he was about to activate his Mangekyou Sharingan, but was silenced by the blood welling up in his throat. He instinctively brought his hand up to his chin to wipe at the blood trickling down. Hazuri stood very still in front of him, her eyes closed to avoid his gaze, and her hands pressed together. He could feel his upper body starting to burn up, his heartbeat increasing.

"I call this the manipulation of bloodstream; after I disabled your legs with my Dark Blood Technique, you blocked my attack as expected and kept your own hand from stopping mine while drawing that seal on your chest with my blood."

Madara gritted his teeth, blood seeping over his lower lip, trickling down his chin and falling to the ground in a rivulet.

The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lush mouth. She touched his bare hand gently, hardly more than a brush of her fingertips, but she felt him jump. "I am thinking, Madara," she said softly, innocently, her light green eyes staring up at him. "That, perhaps, you are no match for me after all."

"What is this?" he was referring to how she was suddenly acting towards him whilst successfully avoiding his crimson eyes.

"I am merely touching you," she pointed out demurely. Her nails slid lightly over his skin, tracing each well-defined muscle with exquisite care. "I like the way you feel." She bent her head closer so that her long hair brushed his sensitized skin, and a sound escaped his throat. "I love the way you smell, too. Is that so bad?"

"It has something to do with the blood transfusion, doesn't it?" She was slowly relinquishing her control on her chakra, releasing him in the progress.

"It's arousing, if that's what you mean, I haven't had blood in a long time. It's a shame, however, out of all males it had to be yours." She said it firmly because it was the one thing she knew absolutely to be true.

"You should consider yourself fortunate." He refuted her testimony with the causal finesse of a swordsman.

"Unfortunate." she repeated stubbornly. This time she flashed him a warning with her eyes. He took advantage of this, activating his Mangekyou, forcing her to step back.

'They changed, his red eyes changed...'

He grinned at her; a mischievous, little-boy, all-too-sexy grin that instantly melted her heart. His long dark bangs flicked in front of his eyes as the wind rose. "Tell me, who taught you these interesting techniques?" he inquired casually, forcing the command into her subconscious with his ultimate eye-technique. He also took a quick swipe at his chest where she'd drawn the seal.

"My older brother, Akemi." She answered without a moment of hesitation.

"Tell me more."

"Akemi is the current clan leader, he recently sent me to establish peace with the Furiko clan. He is engaged to a woman from the Furiko clan who has been banished by her clan members. I am the fastest of my clan, therefore I was sent on this mission. People in our clan have been dying recently, one by one, mysterious deaths. We suspect the Furiko clan, but we can't risk a battle. Peace would be the easiest way to settle this."

His hand closed over her fragile wrist, his thumb finding her pulse unerringly. His Sharingan vanished, black ice remaining. The moment she was standing, back to reality, she jerked away, wiping her palms on her clothes, glaring at him. He might rule everyone around him, but she wasn't about to stand for his nonsense. She wasn't going to become a healing supply for anyone. And she certainly wasn't going to have some male fantasy figure dominating her life. She might have a penchant for trouble, but she wasn't stupid.

Madara glanced down at her transparent, expressive little face as they walked back toward the village. She stumbled a little, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders despite her little shrug of retreat. By nature, Hazuri was accepting of others. She also understood the way animals reasoned, their survival instincts.

He was too dangerous, too powerful, far too used to getting his way in all things. She liked her quiet, independent life. Solitude suited her. She sighed, unaware that she did so.

"You're a stubborn little thing," he told her simply.

She shook her head adamantly. "I am not stubborn! I could have easily defeated you had you not used your eyes on me."

"And of course you're not ignorant, either." He added, his tone rich with sarcasm.

Her green eyes were blazing defiance. He was not going to rule her as he did all the others. They treated him like some kind of Greek god. She groaned aloud. Why had she come up with that particular analogy? Just because he looked like one, acted like one? There went her hormones, running amok again.

'Curse him.'

For a moment his dangerously predatory eyes moved over her face, a red flame flickering in their depths, reminding her of a wolf, a relentless hunter. What did she know of him? That he was a deceiving man with no dignity.

"Stop thinking so much, Hazuri," he repeated softly, a hint of laughter in his velvet voice. "You are making things seem worse than they are." He was becoming tempted to remove her memories despite her reluctance just to ease her fears.

"Right," she groused, "like that could happen."

Madara enjoyed the way she fit beneath his shoulder. Not necessarily because he also kept her from running away. He even enjoyed the way she defied him. He was aware that she had no idea of the power he wielded, the things he was capable of doing, but he didn't care. The wind rushed over them, blowing her soft hair around her face. He heard the rustle in the trees as the leaves swayed to the music of the breeze.

Hazuri glanced up at Madara, a little overwhelmed that she was acting as if all was normal when she should have been running, screaming into the sunset.

She closed her eyes. Well, that settled it, then. She couldn't look at him. She went up in flames every time she did. "Why couldn't you be a nice, ordinary man?"

"What is ordinary?" he asked, amused.

"You didn't have to have those eyes," she accused, flashing a glare at him. "Your eyes should be outlawed."

A sense of euphoria seized him. "So you like my eyes."

Her long lashes instantly veiled her expression. "I didn't say that. You're conceited, Madara-that's one of your biggest problems. You're arrogant and conceited. Why would I like your eyes?"

He laughed softly. "You like my eyes."

She refused to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. "Just shut up," she scolded, her green eyes peeping up at him through long lashes.

As they emerged through the thick stand of trees into the open, where the other Uchiha were, she felt the impact of several pairs of eyes or her. She stopped, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her heart somersaulting alarmingly. She hated being the center of attention.

Madara lifted his arm from her shoulder, taking hold of her wrist instead and forcefully bringing her inside until she was in the room she knew very well.

"In a few days I will see to your release, just be patient," he told her out of the blue. She stared at him, as if he'd spoken in another language, one she didn't understand.

"Like I'd believe you." She snorted, allowing her back to fall against the wall as she crossed her arms.

"Trust me."

He said the words so quietly that she barely heard them. He made the statement starkly, utterly without embellishment. There was no mental push, no other form of persuasion. Still, the way he said it was like an arrow piercing her heart. She had no defence against those two words. No way to combat the truth of them. The truth she heard in his voice.

She stared at him for a long moment; then, without warning, she picked up and flung the large pillow in the room at him. "You don't play fair, Madara. You really don't. You have those eyes and that voice, and now you go and say something like that."

A slow smile softened the hard edge of his mouth. "I knew you liked my eyes." He sounded immensely satisfied.

"I didn't say I liked your eyes," she corrected. "I think they should be declared illegal. They're sinful." She lifted her chin belligerently at him, trying to hold her ground against something she didn't even understand.

"I meant what I said, Ginchishio Hazuri."

"It's safer for me to make sure I don't get my hopes up. I don't believe your words."

His smile climbed to his eyes. "Safer? Is that what you think? It is always far safer to do what I wish."

Hazuri found herself sighing again. "You would say that. Personally, Madara, I'm at the point where I might run screaming into the forest, or doubt my own sanity and have myself committed. Don't push me any harder right now."

"Do you think you could stand on your own without the wall supporting you?" Amusement tinged his voice.

Hazuri patted the wall, reluctant to find out. She was quite proud of the showing she'd made so far. No fainting. No hysterics. None of the things a sane woman would do. But she didn't want to fall on her face. Her long lashes swept down for a moment. Madara easily read the faint self-mocking humour mixed with concern on her transparent face, the sudden determination just before she shifted, ducking beneath his arm to stand on her own. He liked that, her sense of humour, her ability to laugh at herself in the most extreme situations.

She grinned at him. "Well, it worked."

"Let me rephrase myself, do as I say for a while, and I'll give you back your freedom and a peach." He had her. She loved peaches.

She regarded him suspiciously. "That isn't code for some other weird activity, is it?"

Madara actually smirked. "Where do you come up with your nonsense?"

Her emerald eyes sparkled at him. "I can get worse. Much worse."

"You are trying to scare me away."

She laughed in spite of herself. "I think you do a better job at scaring people than I do. You win hands down." She replied, determined despite the warm rosiness that obstinately refused to fade from her cheeks. A glimmer of a smile curved her lips. He looked at her strangely for an instant, those black gems piercing through her.

"You're learning," he said approvingly. She rolled her eyes at the reference to his dominance.

"Just get me a peach."

"I've got the entire morning to do so." He said lazily with a shrug of his shoulders. She narrowed her eyes, picking up the pillow she'd thrown at him just a few minutes ago. She launched it, but it only hit the wall. He'd vanished.

"You better be worth trusting, you red-eyed demon!" she said in the empty space, hoping he somehow heard her.