Chapter 1
The moon's rays filtered through the thick canopy of Konoha's remote forest to create dappled shadows below. The silver light danced with the movement of the branches in the cool night breeze.
The night was eerily silent. No grasshoppers or owls or frogs dared make a peep, for there was an intruder amongst them.
Madara couldn't remember how long he'd been walking. The adrenaline had worn off by now and could no longer dull the pain lancing through his chest. If the katana had been only a few inches to the side, it would've pierced his spine. But he'd turned at just the last second and killed his assailant with a well-timed kunai before flash-stepping away. They'd followed him like hounds after a fox. He kept to the shadows and when the hindrance became too much, he pulled the katana inch by excruciating inch from his chest and used it to kill them all.
And now he walked, half-delirious with blood loss, one hand cupping his wound and the other propping him up against each tree he passed.
His body begged for rest but he'd surely die if he stopped, his life extinguished before he'd even get a chance to make a name for himself. Curled up and rotting at the base of a tree…. His lip curled in distaste. Death would come for him, of that he had no doubt. But he refused to die that day. Not like that. Not him.
He wondered absently of the fate of the rest of his team. His father had sent him and three others to gather intelligence on Konoha. They'd been just outside the village when one of his teammates dropped their chakra in a moment of vacant stupidity.
Madara would've killed the man himself, but ANBU beat him to it. He and the reaming two had rushed off in opposite directions. There were too many enemies to take on; the best chance they had was to split the ANBU up.
He caught himself against another tree and took a deep breath, a wet and sucking sound.
He wasn't eager to see his father after the failure of his mission. His punishments were intense, to say the least.
Just when he thought he couldn't take a single step further, the trees thinned to reveal a small home. He didn't even hesitate to lurch forward, feeding off of the last vestiges of strength that hope gave him. Candlelight flickered through the lone window, chasing away the shadows he was swathed in as he climbed the steps of the porch. He collapsed the moment he cleared the last step, falling to his knees with a low sound of pain.
He rested his bloody palm against the door and despaired when he hadn't the energy to even knock, let alone open it. It occurred to him that if there was an enemy ninja inside, he'd be dead the moment they saw the uchiwa fan sewn into his clothes. Painstakingly, he unsheathed a kunai and held it at his side, only to lose his grip on it when the door he was leaning against swung inward. He sprawled forward as the hole in his chest screamed bloody agony.
Through bleary eyes he saw a small silhouette, feminine and diminutive, above him. He braced himself for her attack, having learned long ago to never underestimate the enemy, trying and failing to locate his dropped kunai. He vaguely registered the flash of pink he saw.
Her soft gasp reached his ears as if from the end of a tunnel. Everything was turning black and spinning.
When no attack came, his last remaining grip on consciousness left him, all strength was gone from him though he fought tooth and nail to stay awake.
As he was submerged into the void of sleep, he was forced to acknowledge that his fate now rested solely on the whims of a little girl with pink hair.