It seemed like Madara wasn’t going to get his fight after all. Regardless of what Madara planned to do after that it was very likely that they wouldn’t attack. Fuck. He’d just have to pick a fight with someone else, then. No harm, no foul. It wouldn’t be a proper greeting if he didn’t rough up some of Orochimaru’s shinobi–just to make a point. He’d find another team, though. He was rather partial to Takaya’s if only because he somewhat liked the kid. And..yes, everyone was considered a kid by his standards. The only one that wasn’t considered a complete shut out was Kakuzu and Madara couldn’t stand him.
He still paid attention to the others. However..it was something that he was used to, the assessing glances–the wonder..probably thinking to themselves, ‘is he actually who he says he is?’ Madara gave a small sighe, though..he did notice the whispering. Ah, so someone hadn’t heard of him? That was..unusual. “I see. I hope to be seeing more of you all in the future.” Rather polite for him, but he had to remember that they had something that he wanted.
That was..actually true, something he actually meant. They were interesting. And that only made him want to be around them more. Regardless..They probably had things to do, he had other things to do…well, roughing up another set of shinobi counted as something to do, right? And he would guarantee that someone would be reporting his movements to Orochimaru after this. He would let himself be tracked. He would let himself be noted. If only to amuse himself with their antics.
He would get what he wanted one way or the other, no matter what. “I’ll give you the address of the inn where I’m staying. Perhaps when it’s time, your Orochimaru-sama can come find me..or you can send a message my way. I’d hate to…offend anyone’s sensibilities by prying too much.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue like molasses, thick and heavy but all the more sickening because of it.
The team could clearly sense the power and potential violence that Madara wore like a cloak, from their demeanour, and yet... they seemed disinclined to retreat. For all their youth, they were used to the sight of blood and the ominous atmospheres of power. And Madara was fascinating. No-one could have been chosen once to lead the Uchiha, surely, without a bearing that commanded attention from others.
It might be said that genjutsu was a subtle art, and that the Sharingan was a supreme genjutsu source, but those who were familiar with history, like Takaya, were inclined to think that the Uchiha had not exactly been a subtle clan.
Giant fireballs were not discreet, and they were only the beginning.
There was something slightly incongruous, though, about the notion of Uchiha Madara with an inn address. Uchiha Madara, terrifying warrior from the depths of history, checking into an inn like anybody else? Sleeping in some building full of perfectly normal travellers? Oh, of course he was still human (probably), but it painted a bizarrely mundane image when compared to both his legend and the general sense of him as he stood there now.
“We are able to send a message, though,” Takaya said, mildly. “I would not like to inconvenience you by having you wait.” He smiled suddenly. “I can do it right now, actually.”
He had a scroll and writing implements in hand quite suddenly, tilting his head a little as though silently asking Madara’s approval of that notion. Whatever means he was going to use to send the message on its way, it was clearly not a slow one.
“I’m going to get rid of the bodies,” Naoko informed Takaya, in the meantime, and turned away to work an earth-based jutsu of very contained scope, one that opened the ground beneath each corpse in turn, then closed over them. It seemed so routine, the way she was doing it -- but then, the team did know how to cover their tracks, and leaving dead bodies around for others to find and examine might be deemed... unwise, if one could manage to do otherwise.
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