Come in from the Smoke
Madara staggered and only kept his feet under him by the grace of a nearby tree, gritting his teeth the eighteen-year-old forced in a deep breath in past the searing pain in his lungs; he wasn’t going to let that fucking bastard kill him, he wasn’t going to lay down and die on the edges of his clans lands – and it was still his clan no matter that Yashiro had convinced so many of them to go against him. Madara knew that his uncle would never have been able to enact the coup if there hadn’t seen so many of the less bitter Uchiha hadn’t been out on missions; Madara was just glad that Izuna had been gone as well, he didn’t want to know whether his brother would have stood with him or not, not when he knew that part of the reason Yashiro had been able to convince so many to stand behind him was the clear rift between Madara and his brother. He should never have pushed so hard so soon for peace talks- gods of fire he had only been leading the clan for a little over a year!- but after Kimiko had died (gods, she had only been five) and Hashirama had become clan head Madara had pushed too hard; he should have known better. He had known better but had pushed anyway and Izuna hadn’t pulled back hard, that was on him.
The Uchiha staggered, head swimming from blood loss and too fast breathing (was he hyperventilating? He was wasn’t he. fuck he knew better than to act like this); he had to live, no matter what some of them thought Madara knew that Yashiro would get his clan killed with his fear and hunger for revenge (what did he even have to revenge? Or was he just afraid there would be no place for him in peace?) so he had to survive and get stronger, had to be strong enough to save them, to keep them safe, had too (never mind that he never would have been wounded in a fight, he was far to strong to ever be brought down by any of his kin, it was only the knife in the back and his unwillingness to hurt his clan that had left him wounded). Madara coughed, the sharp stab of agony dropping him to his knees as he stared at the shifting light above him; time smeared and shifted, moving around him in swimming spinning strands light spun sugar, for a long time Madara couldn’t move or hear or think (poison. There must have been poison).
The shadows over him shifted and something soft and refreshing smoothed over his senses, he blinked and the world spun; when he opened his eyes again there was someone looking down at him, fluffy white fur and red-red eyes, why was there a ghost leopard here? A soft sound from the leopard and softness brushing over his cheeks, something was cupping his cheeks and brushing back his hair, pressing against his neck; he wanted to ask the cat to curl up with him, he missed the clan cats and the way they would sit with him and purr softly until he was calm again. Sharp pain flashed though him like lightning and he went cold as ice around his lips; a high sound punched out of him and his hand snapped up around something that was touching his side, he wanted to writhe but pain held him still and then the cat was besides him, warm and firm and purring and that soothed him as the world swam away.