the disgraced miko — no, the reformed healer, chinoike reiko, watches her friend's back as he speaks. it feels like only yesterday that they met, where their banter was fresh and cool and playful. where she threw a rock at him because she expected him to follow through on his clan's exile of her own, only to be shown mercy. kindness. he bought her shoes when her feet were bare, even harbored her in his home where he could scrub the days' dirt from her, where he could sculpt her nails and brush her hair.
if she were going to be honest, she felt a bit like a doll back then. madara was so firm where she was aimless, reluctant. and now, it feels like their positions have changed.
outside of konohagakure is where they met, the starlight above cascading past the river that flows from the basin of the waterfall. they've been here once before, and only once, on the anniversary of the day they met. fireworks were in the sky from a festival celebrating the unity of the village madara founded with hashirama, but all the two of them could care about were each other.
when he steps forward, reiko does not flinch, those blood red eyes of hers and her lilac pupils gazing into his darkened obsidian ones. she does not look upon him in pity, but worry for that bags growing under his eyes, as if not even a century of rest could extinguish them.
reiko's delicate, birch-pale hands find one of madara's, clutching it in both of hers. a smile, warm, yet sad, curls onto her glossed lips.
" you are no monster, madara. you are a product of a cycle of violence that can still be broken. you can stop this — you can stop attacking the village. you can stay the hand you swing with sharpened blade clutched in it. "
her voice breaks, too, softer than his. pained in a different way, where he chokes on his, and hers is an inevitable fracture.
" we can go far, far away. both of us, and we can heal. together. "
the squeeze of her hands is tight, desperate. please, don't leave me again! says the gesture.
" you lost someone precious to you, madara. i cannot deny that the blood soaked into your clothing, the blood of your brother, will never dry. but can't you see? you are free out here, away from konohagakure. you broke that shackle. we can go as far as you wish, for as long as you wish... "
reiko can feel it, the roiling sorrow in his blood, the way his pulse races with his latent anger, all of the repression inside of his veins, when she looks at him, when she holds his hand in hers.
" just please, do not continue this senseless carnage. it will only be the cleaver that skins you bare and vulnerable to your enemies. "
and what is she supposed to do if he's gone for good?
