Summary: After losing her older brother and suffering from physical and mental abuse by her adoptive parents, Akane is being pressured into quitting her job at the medical clinic; her only escape from the horrors at home. Just when she thought she was trapped in this hell hole forever her "knight in shining armor" swoops down to rescue her...Wait... why is his armor dull and scarlet? Akane begins to question her purpose in life, and as the truth about her past begins to unravel she's left with a decision that could change things forever.
Author's Note: This story is a collaboration with one of my close friends. We made this story together; she is posting it on Quizilla while I am posting it on Fanfiction. She's an amazing writing so definitely check her out. If you like Gaara or Itachi you'll definitely like her work. Her Quizilla name is: shadowbender16. Check her out at: user/shadowbender16/profile/
Disclaimer: We own nothing but our OC's.
Please Enjoy and Review. :)
Claws of victory sunk into his pale skin, rushing through every vein in his body like electricity. With victory came arrogance and pride, all of which were common factors for an average Uchiha; however, Uchiha Madara was anything but average. He was a genius, a god in human form. A single look into his menacing eyes had even the toughest men cowering in fear. Unfortunately, he had somehow managed to lose concentration, allowing his thoughts to wander in the middle of battle; a foolish mistake on his part. He was also upset that he had made his second in command stay home, especially when dealing with a clan like the Senju. He simply couldn't believe that he'd allowed himself to be so open, and to him. Clutching his injured abdomen, Madara moved with staggering steps, leaning against trees for support. He guided himself through the forest back towards the Uchiha compound.
"Madara-sama!" Tired eyes turned towards the source of his name being called. Sadaharu.
"Sir, you're bleeding heavily. We're going to have to stop at a nearby village. There's no way you'll make it back in this state." The news angered the young leader, but it could not be helped. Licking his dry lips, he proceeded to ask the man his questions.
"Sadaharu." His voice sounded weak, enough that if Sadaharu hadn't been standing as close as he was it could have went to deaf ears.
"Yes sir?" The sound of ripping fabric could be heard, and Madara had only then noticed that Sadaharu had been gradually ripping off strands of his own clothes to apply pressure and wrap up his wound.
"Where are the others? Katai and Kazuhiko," Madara inquired. Sadaharu hadn't said anything for a while and lowered his head in defeat. In the end, they hadn't been as victorious as they had once thought.
"They're dead sir..." Snapping his head up in anger, the young leader forced himself to his feet once again, eyes flaring with the sharingan.
"Sir, you cannot move! Please stay still..." But the male's warning went unheard. All Madara could hear were the cries of his fallen men and the snickers of the Senju; the damn Senju who were currently making his life very difficult. Sadaharu quickly made his way towards his leader's side, grabbing onto his arm in order to take on most of his weight.
Madara scoffed, unhappy with the fact he needed support. His abdomen burned, his head throbbed, his world spun, and yet he still had strength, enough to stay awake and alert. Letting his guard down was one mistake he wouldn't repeat.
"You shouldn't push yourself, Madara-sama," Sadaharu stated, "You're injured. If we don't get you some help, you could bleed out. I know I've done all that I can here. We should get moving."
"Tsk..." He turned his face. Giving in, "It can't be helped." Oh how it hurt; Uchiha Madara bloody and faint. It hurt his pride, but even though he was angry at himself for being so distracted, he knew when he needed help. He let Sadaharu lead the way.
"Look, Madara-sama. Up ahead," Sadaharu sighed in relief.
"Good. I don't know how much blood I have left to lose," the Uchiha sighed, also relieved. Both men were tired by then. Using every last ounce of strength, Sadaharu pushed apart the main doors of the clinic. The few patients in the waiting area looked up in surprise. The young, mousy woman seated at the front desk furrowed her brow, stunned to see such a...gaudy pair.
"My captain, he was badly injured you see. He's bleeding heavily. I did what I could, but he needs professional help. Please," Sadaharu explained. The woman glanced over where Madara's hand sat applying pressure to his wound.
"You could stare, or you could help," he commented.
"Eh - hai," she nodded, rushing away from the desk. "Follow me, down this way." Sadaharu guided Madara down the hall behind the ditsy woman who went by the name Sasada. Sadaharu himself was amazed with his leader's stamina. How this man was able to keep himself conscious through all of this was amazing to him.
They stepped into the room.
"I'll get someone," she said, rushing out and around the corner.
"Nervous one," Sadaharu chuckled slightly.
"What did you say? What type? Sasada, breathe..." A soft voice trailed through the hall.
"In here. He's bleeding heavily," She explained, guiding another young woman into the room.
"Enough that if you don't do something he'll probably die," Sadaharu shrugged.
"Arigato, Sasada. I'll take it from here."
"Do you need anything before I head back, Akane?"
"I think I'll be fine," she said, shutting the door behind her. "It'd be best if he sat up there." She pointed to the table. "And removing the armor and clothes would probably help too. It looks messy," she instructed, casually walking over to wash her hands.
"Hai. Let me help, Madara-sama," Sadaharu fussed, helping him strip. Madara climbed onto the table, sitting hunched over and in much pain. Gathering the needed tools in a small container, Akane faced the two, her gaze landing on the bare chested Madara. Something flickered behind her hazel eyes, but it soon faded.
"Can you heal him?" Sadaharu questioned, worried. Looking over her supplies, she moved to them, taking out a brown bottle.
"Of course, just I must ask you to stand back a little." Sadaharu raised an eyebrow in curiosity but didn't bother asking, and took a few steps back like she asked. Moving towards the injured man, Madara immediately took her wrist before she could even touch him.
"What is that?" He glared at her lightly, but even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to harm her. He was weakening greatly by the second, and she didn't have time to explain everything.
"It's just disinfectant...iodine. It helps kill germs and bacteria. Now if you don't mind.. I'd like to save your life before you die." Snatching her hand out of his grip, she poured the contents on his wound. Madara flinched, not expecting it to be cold.
"What's wrong with Madara-sama's skin? Why is it orange?" Sadaharu snapped, moving closer now to inspect what the medic had done to his leader. Madara groaned slightly at all the noise. Bringing Sadaharu along with him was another foolish mistake. The man over exaggerated about everything. He was quite the anxious fellow. If he had just allowed Izuna to come along he wouldn't be in this predicament.
"Sir, please stand back. It's just cleaning the wound. He's your leader right? Why won't you allow him to be healed?" Sadaharu moved closer gripping the collar of her kimono.
"How dare you! Do you know who we are?" Before either of the two could blink, Akane was released, much to her surprise, but when she turned towards the table her patient was nowhere in sight. A shiver ran down her spine as she watched the terrified look on Sadaharu's face. If it wasn't for the armor he wore she wouldn't have been surprised if he had pissed himself. Hanging by his neck, Madara held him pressed against the wall, a murderous glare in his eyes.
"Sadaharu...Get. Out." Releasing the man from his grip, Madara stumbled back. Luckily Akane was quickly there to hold him up as best she could. Sadaharu was out of the room before Madara could even get back on the table.
"Tsk..." Madara muttered under his breath in annoyance, allowing the medic to lift him onto the table again.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Holding up a hand in her face, Madara laid back on the table, ignoring the pain that surged through him.
"Shut up and just heal me..."
Blinking a few times,
"Hai." She obeyed, getting back to work. After carefully cleaning the wound, she pressed cold hands against his skin, a faint green glow engulfing them. He took a sharp breath at the sensation.
"Ho? Medical nin-jutsu. How interesting. How...rare," he eyed her. "You seem to be good at it too."
After a minute or so, she pulled away, digging for something among the tools she collected. Leaning back, she concentrated on threading the needle between her fingers, sticking her tongue out slightly.
"You aren't going to say anything, woman?"
"My apologies, you said, 'shut up and just heal me.' I was only doing as told," she said bluntly, still focused on the needle.
"But yes, that was medical nin-jutsu. And I don't usually boast, but I like to think I have a pretty good idea of what I'm doing. If you are curious, and before you lose it like your friend out there, all I'm about to do now is stitch up the wound. I took care of most of it, but having actual stitches will serve as backup in case it was to open again. You are a heavy bleeder indeed." She started to work. Compared to what he had been feeling all along, the stitches were nothing.
"That should do it." She pulled away again, dropping all of her tools in the bin. Madara glanced down at her handy work.
"Impressive. Is this where I thank you?" he cooed, raising an eyebrow.
"I should be thanking you. Had you not pried your partner's hands from my collar, I would have done so myself," she spat, turning to wash her hands. "Hn, perhaps he should be thanking you."
Lifting his brow even higher, he watched her, both amused and intrigued by her harsh tone and the icy look in her eyes.
"You may take a moment to rest here. I'll go see if I can find you anything to wear. Your bloody garments aren't too appealing at the moment, ne?" Pushing silky brown hair, deep brown like soil, behind her ears, she headed out and down the hall for a moment. For a while Madara observed the room, his eyes landing on all the tools and bottles of several different concoctions. He couldn't even begin to think of what they could be used for. Excelling in everything else, Madara hadn't practiced medical nin-jutsu for several reasons. He rarely needed to be healed much less given bandages. All the 'wounds' he got weren't even worth calling 'wounds'; simply scratches; however, there were several people within the Uchiha who could use a medic. Not to mention they were rare. If he could remember correctly, the Uchiha had about five medics to spread out across the whole compound. There was no time to teach people to heal, not when they were in and out of wars months at a time. They were lucky enough to have five. Clenching his fists in frustration, he threw his head back so it rested against the table behind him. The damn Senju had eight, and if he wasn't mistaken he also had skills within the medical department. Closing his eyes, he draped his arm over his face. Madara stared at the ceiling, the bright light from the lamp blinding him slightly.
As he heard the sound of the door opening again, he expected to see Sadaharu, but when the brunette came walking in again with a folded black shirt in hand, he allowed his head to fall back on the table. Akane peered at her male patient, and like before, a spark passed through her hazel eyes. The way he looked laying there, long hair fanned out around him.
"Here... you can have this. It may be a bit small. We don't usually have shinobi visiting us very often..." she stated, advancing closer. Her hand reached out to help Madara up into a sitting position before handing him the shirt. Akane watched him closely as he pulled the shirt over his head and chest, helping him slightly when he hissed lowly in discomfort from stretching out his arms to their full extent.
"What will be the charges for your hospitality?" Madara asked. She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. Akane peered up at him, questioning what the 'right' answer would be, but then figured that he'd probably be a reasonable man, and he wasn't the most disrespectful shinobi she had ever treated.
"Don't worry about it." she stated, waving her hand nonchalantly as she started walking towards the door. With a single nod, the young leader followed after her, feeling much better than he had when coming in. However, he would have to stay a little bit longer to do as she said: not to 'overexert' himself. Opening the door, Sadaharu was leaning against the wall. He didn't say a word, only glared at the brunette as if she was the devil. Akane, however, just ignored him.
"Come back if you need to be stitched again..." she stated. Madara grunted but nodded before turning towards his comrade as she started down the hall.
"Come on, Sadaharu. We're leaving." Dropping his glare completely, Sadaharu jumped, nodded, and quickly followed after his leader.
Akane made her way home not long after Madara and Sadaharu left. Fixing the strap of her bag, she held it close to her body as she made her way through the busy streets. This was always the hardest part of everyday; going home. Normally one would be relieved. Hot tea and a warm chair or bed sounded lovely, but Akane had something else waiting for her; a dark and painful past that would haunt her for the rest of her life, and the ones who put her in that hell. Her father tormented her emotionally and physically, and all her mother ever did was blame her and allow it to happen. Akane had an older brother, Kaname, but he passed years ago. He was the only one who knew, who saw the suffering in her eyes, but nothing he did could save her. The damage was done.
She became a medic to help others, especially those hurting like she did. She became a medic to escape home; burying herself in work and study and doing everything to improve, hoping that one day she would be known for her abilities.
A deep sigh escaped her lips when the house came into view. She hugged the bag tighter against her. Hopefully no one was around. If only she could just slip inside and scurry to her room. Coming up to the door, she slipped off her shoes and slowly stepped in. Akane didn't even bother looking around as she walked in. The house was quiet and dark which gave her a bit of comfort. Normally when the lights were out and the house was silent her parents were already asleep. Slowly, she made her way towards the stairs, relieved that her feet had managed to move across the floor without making loud squeaking noises.
Making it to the stairs, she held her breath while taking the first step, trying to balance out her weight to make as less noise as possible. Heart pounding in her ears, she was tempted to just run up the stairs but was scared that someone would spot her. Akane licked her lips and let out a soft breath. Gripping onto the railing, she pulled herself up to the second step.
"Welcome home... Aka-chan," a deep, threatening voice sounded behind her. Akane could feel the blood drain from her face. Her fingers twitched while her palms began to sweat. Turning her head to the side, she cursed quietly to herself for not noticing him in the beginning. Of course it was too good to be true. She should have known he'd be waiting for her. Sitting in his signature arm chair, the one she had learned to hate over the years, was her father, the shape of his blue eyes identical to her own, fixed on her from across the room.
"G-Good evening... father..." He smiled at her, waving his hand telling her to come. He patted his lap, giving her a place to sit. She was no longer five years old, so it was a bit awkward for her even now after doing it for years, to sit on his lap. Regardless, she reluctantly obeyed.
"How was your day? Did you heal anyone?" her father questioned, ogling her breasts. Shivering slightly, Akane debated on whether or not it was good idea to tell him about Madara and Sadaharu. Her father was rather 'jealous' when it came to her talking about other men. But if she lied he'd find out, and then she'd be in deeper trouble.
"Yes... a shinobi came; heavily bleeding from his abdomen." she flushed, recalling Madara's stripped figure. Even injured and bloody, he was still rather appealing. Akane winced, her father's grip on her arm growing much stronger than it had been just a few moments ago. He huffed in anger, glaring at her now, which immediately washed the blush away and replaced it with fear.
"Who is this... shinobi?" he barked, demanding to know the name of her patient. Akane gulped, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"M-Madara..." she half whispered after taking a second to remember his name.
"Madara, huh?" Her father sat back in the chair, stroking his nonexistent beard and staring off into the darkness of the house. "Spots... he sounds like a pussy! Who the hell names their child fucking spots?" Akane didn't reply, figuring it was best for her to just stay quiet.
"Did he touch you?" he seethed, serious once again. Akane recalled when the young leader had grabbed her wrist, but even that would probably set her father off.
"No," she lied, trying to sound as convincing as possible. It seemed to work because he went on with more questions.
"Did you touch him?"
"I had to father," she sighed. "He was bleeding heavily. He would have died if I hadn't touched him." His grip tightened, causing a small yelp to leave the brunette's lips. His fingernails dug into her sun kissed skin, creating red creases. He leaned forward to nuzzle against her neck, making her breath catch in her throat once again.
"You don't touch anyone but me..."
She frowned, keeping her body still, shivering as his teeth nipped at her earlobe. How was that fair? She was a medic. How else was she supposed to make sure everything worked correctly, not to mention heal?
"I am sorry," she whispered, "It's a part of the job. I don't mean to go against you."
"I'm getting sick of this job. You're gone for days sometimes, you deal with sickness, and you're around strange men. When will you listen, Akane?"
"What would you have me do?"
"Stay home like you should. That is your place."
"I can't drop everything -"
"This isn't the first time I've kindly asked you to leave the clinic. I'm losing patience, Akane. When will you listen to your father?"
She winced as his nails dug further into her arm.
"It hurts," she muttered, hoping he would at least loosen his grip. "I - I will talk to the others. I cannot leave them shorthanded, but I will mention you want me out of there," she lied.
"That's more like it," he smirked. "Now go. You're a mess." He shoved her off. She stumbled to the stairs before regaining her composure and rushing up to her room, never looking back. Compared to other days, she got off easy.
"Akane," he called before she shut the door to her room.
"If for some reason you and this Madara fellow cross paths again, you should warn him to keep his distance. You belong to me."
"...Hai..." Shutting the door, Akane dragged herself across her room, taking of her clothes piece by piece. All she wanted was a warm bath to soak in; a few moments of peace. Letting the small tub fill, she stood before her cracked mirror, cloaked in a white towel. Dealing with bacteria, blood, and vomit was disgusting indeed, but she never felt dirtier than when her father touched her. Even the sound of her name on his lips made her stomach churn. Distrustful of most, Akane grew to especially detest men. She knew they all weren't like her father, but he had hurt her too much, and because of that she often turned away and closed herself off.
Still waiting for the water to rise, she leaned against the edge of the tub. She heard that larger hospitals had quarters where employees sometimes lived. If only she was in a larger city. Perhaps living like that would have been possible. She would at least have the option. Unfortunately this clinic was small; short staffed, and often ran low on certain supplies, even basic ones like bandages or disinfectant.
"Madara..." slipped from her lips, an interesting patient indeed; a shinobi leader and an Uchiha at that. She wasn't sure how she felt about this Madara. He was bold and blunt, and obviously didn't tolerate anyone's foolishness; going by the way he controlled Sadaharu. Controlled. While he was dominant, Akane saw that he was different than her father. Still, she feared him. He was clever, distrustful, and observant, and she sensed a terrible power dwelling deep within those eyes of his. She doubted they would meet again. He was clearly an important figure who had things to take care of. He didn't have time for a broken girl from a broken family.
Turning off the faucet, she let the towel drop to the floor before climbing into the tub. The scalding water soothed her aches and pains. Not as stiff or tense as before, she found herself cracking. Holding herself, Akane hunched over with a gasp, letting warm tears trickle down off her chin and into the bath.