Katsuki no Monogatari [Uchiha Madara/oc]

Incertitude plagued Madara's mind the entire day. His thoughts were occupied with the incident of the prior night. It had not yet sunk in that he was a married man now; the conjecture felt so extraneous to himself that the thought often slipped his mind. He would have to remind himself that he couldn't remove the Mokume from his finger and that it meant something.

"How was the night?"

He was pulled from his musings by his father, who noticed his eldest son staring at nothing, deep in thought. He assumed it had something to do with his new status; it was never easy to come to terms with it, not for him or any other man in their position. Arranged marriages weren't easy on either party, but Madara was a man, and he wasn't going to coddle him.

"It was... strange."

The older man grunted and decided to ignore his son's choice of words, assuming what had happened the night before. He didn't continue the conversation, not wanting to get immersed in the topic. It wasn't his place to even speak about those sorts of things with his son; he'd rather leave that to his mother.
Madara let out a relieved sigh when his father walked away. The guilt of not particularly enjoying his father's company pulled at his chest in a bothersome way, making him second guess his stance on the man, but he pushed the thoughts back; it wasn't like either of them had ever made an effort to even be close; that was Izuna's place. Besides, he wasn't sure he even wanted to speak about it; he knew it would be awkward and lead to nothing. The entire thing made him uncomfortable, a feeling all too foreign.

Before he noticed, evening rolled by, and he was supposed to return to visit his wife once again. It was nothing cultural or personal; his father had simply ordered him to visit her as often as possible before he had to leave for war. The girl was young, and soon she'd be alone in an empty house, which could be overwhelming to her young mind. She needed to be as healthy as possible to give him healthy children.

"Nii-san, father has called for you." Izuna called out to his brother, panting a little. He clearly had just finished his training, which Madara had skipped. Everyone was surprised at Izuna's announcement. Madara never missed training; it was his happiness, but most attributed it to being tired from his first night as a married man, but truthfully, he simply wasn't interested.

He nodded and walked towards his father's study, where he could feel the older man's chakras positioned. He didn't bother knocking; he simply entered the room. His father didn't bother looking up at him either and continued to read the documents in his hands.

"Katsuki's family suggested that she live here, closer to you. So she is." Tajima spoke, not beating around the bush. "I expect you to help her."

Madara's discomfort showed. He didn't want to live with her; quite frankly, he'd rather not be married at all. But he decided against speaking and simply followed his father's orders.

"They're also willing to provide a house for both of you, so you build your own home together." The implicit tenderness of his words was unfamiliar to Madara, and he quickly deduced that his father was quoting her family. "What are you most comfortable with?"

"She would most likely be more comfortable in her own space."

The man nodded. "Very well, I'll inform them of your decision."

Another staring contest brewed between the couple. Once again, they were lost, having no idea what they were supposed to do. The night before was a failure, and they were both embarrassed by the incident, not wanting to repeat it.
Katsuki tried to smile at him when he first entered, but he hadn't returned her gesture, so she presumed he had a bad day. Surely being an heir was difficult, especially for someone going through such a change in their life.

The words of her maiden echoed in her mind once again, and she put on a brave face, trying to settle her racing heart. Thankfully, today she had dressed in a simple yukata, given that summer was hot in the land of fire and wearing a juunihitoe would be torture at this time.

The cicadas chirped right outside their walls, making a melodic sound that somehow soothed her nerves. The hot wind hit her skin as she lowered the silk from her shoulders, shyly looking down at the floor. Her heart dropped once she looked up at the man and saw his bewildered expression.

"What're you doing?" He exclaimed while hiding his face behind his gloved hands. "Put it on!"

"E-eh?!" She exclaimed, pulling the robes over her chest in a rush. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong with you?" He countered, no longer covering his face. "Why are you rushing?"

"Well, you need your own son..."

Madara stared at her in disbelief. It was true, but they had no idea what they were even doing. He'd rather be childless than subject himself to that awful experience again; there had to be a way it could be less unappealing and a little more bearable, and they had to figure it out.

"It can wait; my father is still strong, and I don't need an heir if I'm not the leader yet."

"Oh..." She gulped, burning up in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever, let's just not do anything until we figure it out."

Katsuki nodded in agreement.

They spent the rest of the evening sleeping and drinking tea. Not much speaking was done between them. Neither of them knew what to speak about. Could they be superficial and just tell each other their favorite colours, or did they have to tell their deepest secrets? They were both equally puzzled and hopeless; they were left to fend for themselves in an area neither had any expertise in.

Night started to fall, so she hastily lit the candles in the room and returned to her seat once she was done. Her eyes landed on the handsome face of her husband, and she couldn't brink herself to look away from him. The way the yellow light shone on his face and accentuated his features was so mesmerizing. She had never really taken in his looks; his countenance was riddled with delicate traits that relaxed into perpetual indifference. She was sure he'd become even more handsome as he got older, but for now his features remained boyish and young, and she was enamored by his looks.

He frowned at her staring, feeling scrutinized under her heavy gaze. She seemed to be in deep thought, and he didn't want to speak, so he simply bore with it. The discomfort of her staring caused him to accidentally swallow a piece of the dumpling too soon; the soft food felt like a rock going down his throat. Violent coughs left him, and tears formed in his eyes as he pounded his chest to get the food out.

"Madara-san?" Katsuki exclaimed, running to his side. She balled her fist and slammed it down on his back. The pink bit came flying out of his mouth and landed on the floor. They both stared at it for a moment before he turned to her with a painful and confused expression. Her brute strength almost caused him a broken rib, and Madara had always been very durable.
"Are you okay?"
Her question came between a stifled laugh and a snort. Her small hand covered her mouth to stop herself from full-on laughing, but a couple giggles escaped her.

It was the sweetest thing Madara had ever heard.

5 months.

They had been married for five months and nothing had really happened; Madara still refused to open up to her, they barely knew anything about each other, and they hadn't had a full conversation until the second month of their marriage, when he suffered an injury on the battlefield and she insisted on visiting him.

The construction of their home was soon to be concluded; the house was grand and beautiful, fit for a clan leader. Her mother had made sure it was extravagant and filled with breathtaking details and artwork brought from all corners of the land. But it would still lack love.

Whatever feeling was developing in her chest was foreign to her; she couldn't put a name to it. It felt so extrinsic and so bad. She missed him, that she was sure of, but she longed for something else, something she doubted he could give her.
Her head was filled with fantasies of a love story, like the ones she'd read on old scrolls of women before her. Now, she was coming to the realization that maybe those women wrote those stories when they were bored, and instead of being a reality, they were just fantasies of what they too wished from their cold and distant husbands.

"Lady Katsuki, I'm the architect of your home; your mother wanted your opinion on a few details."

She scurried behind the shogi screen and called out for him to enter her study.

"Katsuki-san, your mother would like a portrait of you and your husband at the entrance of the house, but she wasn't sure if you would agree."

"I think that's too much..." A giant portrait was a step too far, and she was sure Madara's more reserved character wouldn't feel comfortable with such a thing. "I'm not sure I know how to explain this, but... My husband is very reserved, and I'm sure he isn't fond of anything too flashy. Could you make sure the home is very traditional? I'm sure my mother is straying away from the usual Uchiha design."

The man agreed and excused himself. The poor man was exhausted by the household's matriarch, who probably had a new request every time an idea came to her mind. It was slowing down the process, and Katsuki was starting to become anxious. She had never been very patient, and her mother had a habit of changing her mind at the last minute. It was making her regret her decision to leave everything to her.

The girl decided to immerse herself in her painting. She mixed the colours with experienced skill; the painting consisted mostly of blues and black. A proud smile formed on her face as she peered at the piece. It was entirely based on her memory, but she felt it was close enough to the real thing.
All that time spent appreciating his features really served a purpose; this was the most realistic painting she had ever done, and she could almost feel his heavy gaze on her. The moonshine bounced off his face and glistened against his red armor as he lightly smiled back.

She didn't have much to do at home, so she poured her energy into the painting.

Boredom absorbed Katsuki completely; each passing day was a constant repetition of events. Secluded within the confined walls of her home, an unyielding monotony settled upon her spirit like a heavy shroud. The world outside, vibrant and inviting, existed as a distant yearning, and she found herself ensnared in a cycle of ennui. With every passing day that echoed the same mundane routines, her world felt increasingly stagnant. The restrictions imposed upon her, the invisible boundaries that held her within the confines of her home, stifled her spirit. Despite her love for painting, reading, and knitting—creative outlets that momentarily kindled the sparks of her imagination—these once cherished activities began to mirror the very limitations of her existence. While the strokes of her brush or the gentle click of knitting needles momentarily soothed the restlessness of her soul, they also became a reminder of the vast expanse of uncharted experiences that lay beyond the borders of her confined reality. Her emotions fluctuated between fleeting moments of contentment within her hobbies and the persistent ache for a world unexplored—a longing to immerse herself in the vivacity of life beyond the familiar walls that encased her. Each stroke of color on canvas, each turned page, and each knitted loop became both her refuge and a bittersweet testament to the yearning that whispered in the quiet chambers of her heart. The thrill her marriage would supposedly give her had been null; she barely saw her husband, and when she did, it was a short visit in which he'd ask how her day went and then leave as soon as he could, as if running from his reality.
She knew marrying someone like Madara wouldn't be fun in the beginning; they shared almost no interests, and even if they did, she wouldn't know because he refused to hold a proper conversation. The entire situation was hopeless and her heart felt heavy and burdened.

"Lady Katsuki," Someone spoke from outside the door; she recognized the voice as her mother's handmaiden. "Your mother has urgent matters to discuss with you; if you could head to her quarters."

She wondered what her mother thought was so urgent. Usually 'urgent' in Kira's language wasn't a terribly important thing, just whatever she had fixated on last. So Katsuki wasn't too preoccupied with whatever it was that she wanted to speak about. Her mother, just like herself, was locked in a golden cage of luxury and opulence, she had become a beautiful little bird, restricted to her perpetual confinement. A a possession only her husband could marble at.

"Mother?"

"Come in!"

Her mother's quarters were exactly what you'd imagine a woman like Kira's quarters would look like. Every square inch of the room was covered in expensive silk and gold decorations, and on the wall directly adjacent to the entrance was a gigantic portrait of Katsuki, her only child, as a newborn, which made her blush every time she saw it.

"Sit, sit."

The cushions were made of wool, and one could live on them because of how soft they were. Katsuki sat and silently urged her mother to speak.

"Today is December 14th..." The woman coyly announced it, covering her mouth as she giggled.

"Yes?"

"Only ten more days, heh-heh."

"For what?"

Kira's foxy smile lowered, and she groaned loudly, dropping her arms to her sides. Looking defeated by her daughter's clueless little self.

"Your husband was born on December 24th."

Katsuki's confused expression deepened, and she stared at her mother as if she'd grown a third head. What did it matter on what day he was born? His birthday would be celebrated on the first day of the new year, along with everybody else's.*

"And?"

"Have you prepared his gift?"

Katsuki paced her room in worry.
What could she gift a man she didn't know at all? Madara was a mystery to her; what in the world could she gift him that'd make him happy?

Her mother had successfully gotten into her head. They usually didn't celebrate birthdays on the anniversary of the person's birth; it was simply a collective celebration. It wasn't like the times they lived in were peaceful enough for them to spend time planning parties and giving each other gifts. Their way was quicker and easier.
But why not have something personal? Something for yourself? Having a day all to yourself would be nice; it would lighten your mood for the day. Many people have already forgotten the day they were born because of this practice.

What would he like? She knew he liked to fight, but not much more.

An idea popped into her head. Every shinobi needs his tools—tools of the best quality.