Chapter Text
Amidst a violent flurry of white, Madara didn't know where he was going. He couldn't see further than his outstretched hand, held up to catch himself when he'd inevitably fall.
It was known to the Uchiha that the mountains at the border were dangerous, the weather unpredictable, but Madara had underestimated the severity of it all. As had the men ambushing him, thankfully.
Despite the many he killed, Madara had only narrowly made his escape by running towards the blizzard where no sane man would ever hope to find salvation. But no one had ever accused him of being sane, either. As it was, the blizzard was his only chance—if the men caught him, Madara would be dead. And with him, every chance of getting Kagami back before the worst happened.
Lost within the snow, Madara could at least hope for a miracle. Or dignity in death, if nothing else. Which was the most likely outcome, considering that there was nothing but white in any direction. And even that would change soon with the rapidly fading daylight.
Madara was trapped, and this time, he didn't think he'd be able to find his way home like he always had before. Like he had promised his family, when he set out all by himself because no one else could be spared at a difficult time like this.
Not for one life, at least, that of a half-blood brat at that.
A new bout of rage warmed him from within when he recalled the shameless way Kagami had been abandoned by the elders of their clan. Fools and cowards, the lot of them. Prattling on about honour and duty from the security of the council halls while the clan bled and starved as they shouldered the consequences of the old guard's decisions born from pride rather than any sense.
But now, at long last, Madara was confident he would find enough support among the clan to do away with them, away with the traditions that saw the Uchiha recline rather than prosper. No one took well to old men abandoning children after all, least of all a ray of sunshine like Kagami.
Stubbornly, Madara set one foot in front of the other. At this point it didn't matter where he was heading, as long as he ended up somewhere. Preferably not with the band of kidnappers that had captured one of their own, but, frankly, with the cold seeping as deep as his marrow, Madara couldn't afford to be picky anymore.
It had been beyond foolish to think that his odds against nature itself would be higher than against a band of men that could bleed, could die, if Madara gave it his all.
But now it was too late to regret, too late to change past choices.
Too late to chase anything but what seemed like the faint tinkle of bells almost drowned out by the howling storm, a wondrous sound that lured him deeper and deeper into the unknown as harsh winds pulled at his mantle and tried to push him to the ground, bury him underneath death in its fluffiest form.
When the noise abruptly cut off, Madara lost his balance and fell, disturbing the sudden silence with the violent screech of his armour as it scraped across cold, hard stone. He had closed his eyes to better focus on the faint sound, and thus entirely missed the cave it led him to.
Despite the ongoing blizzard outside, the cave was silent, almost eerily so. There wasn't a single sound, no longer the tinkle of bells. No chattering of teeth or the rattle of armour betraying his body's reactions to the cold.
Madara blinked against the dark, and the only thing he could properly see was his breath clouding in front of his face. But the absence of cutting wind made the air almost feel warm in comparison to just a moment before. Which was probably a bad sign, all things considered.
Either way, having found a cave free of snow in this kind of weather was a divine intervention, if Madara had ever seen one. Now, only time could tell if it would be his salvation or his damnation—his grave.
In a very rare bout of optimism, Madara chose to hope for the best. After all, he was still alive despite the ambush specifically set out for him. A narrow victory in its own way, paid with copious amounts of blood. Mostly his own, though. While the pain was distant, the gash in his side was hard to ignore with the steady flow of blood drenching his tunic and providing a treacherous source of warmth against his skin while the outer layer was already frozen to the unforgiving steel of his plated armour.
While it had undoubtedly saved his life—without it, the wound would have been deep enough to lose an organ or two, if not outright his life—the cold had already settled into the metal, and drew out the warmth of Madara's flesh until there would be nothing left to keep him alive.
This was bad. Really, really bad. Just like the tiredness weighing down his shoulders, not unlike the heavy mantle of responsibility he carried ever since his father died. A sudden and bone-deep exhaustion that made it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open, no matter how much he struggled against the urge to rest them for just a moment.
Then again, maybe a quick nap would help him regain the strength to undo the hidden clasps and knots of his armour and relieve himself of the protective cage that would end up his coffin otherwise?
Just-
Just a little while?
Despite the sharp twinge of pain, Madara lazily nuzzled into the soft warmth cradling his face, as it chased away the freezing cold of his skin until everything tingled and stung like the one time Izuna got the better of him and pushed Madara’s head into an ant hill whose colony took exception to his presence.
Izuna. His brother. Who would be devastated if Madara never returned.
Madara startled awake, and-
Found himself captivated by sunset-red eyes. The only sign of warmth set in a face carved by the gods themselves from solid ice, haloed by a dandelion tuft of white hair, swaying in a non-existent breeze. The being would look entirely ethereal, untouched by the world of the living, if it weren't for three lines marking their face with bold red that took away from the otherworldly appearance and gave the impression they could be touched after all.
Could touch, as it stood.
Madara felt utterly bereft when the gentle hands withdrew not a moment later, leaving his skin yet again exposed to the air within the cave. If he weren't lightheaded from blood loss and shackled by the cold trapping his bones, he might've tried to chase after it, but weak as he was, his dignity was spared the critical hit his sudden desperation would've dealt it.
Something must've shown on his face, though.
The wondrous creature cocked their head, as they held Madara's gaze without a hurry. Silence stretched between them as Madara found his tongue tied in the presence of such beauty found in an unexpected place. It would've been impossible to bear if it weren't for the fact that the distance between them didn't increase, the other not drawing back further now that Madara was awake.
Madara had hoped for a divine intervention when he ran into the storm, but he could not parse what this meant. For him, for his clan. For Kagami.
Kagami. Who was still lost and afraid.
The thought of his missing charge gave Madara a new bout of energy, the needed push to clench his muscles one at a time in a torturous process to regain control of his body, which felt sluggish and stiff at the same time.
As they sat close together and red eyes intently followed every twitch of his body, Madara could swear the air between them warmed fraction by fraction, thawing his body and brain if not his tongue. It allowed him to send his senses outward, to finally notice what he had failed to realise before.
The cave wasn't silent anymore, not eerie. Instead it almost seemed homey now, with shadows dancing across walls in tune with the cackling of a nearby fire. While it had seemed impossible before to ever avert his eyes from the creature sent by the heavens to greet him at the threshold of his death, the promise of salvation now drew his eyes without a second thought.
And there, at the far corner of the cave, bundled up in heavy furs right next to the fire but out of its danger—out of any danger—was a familiar mop of unruly black hair sitting atop a relaxed face free of hardship, entirely untouched by the horrors Madara had conjured inside his mind.
Against all odds, Kagami was safe. As safe and sound as he could ever be outside of their compound.
Relief crashed over Madara as all sense of urgency left his body and rendered his previous efforts of regaining control useless, leaving him crumbling like a doll and only held up by his armour.
Well. His armour and the deceivingly soft hand that caught his weight with no apparent effort, carefully helping him settle down without further injury before withdrawing its touch while still staying close—even more so than before.
Madara had hoped for a divine intervention when he ran into the storm, and here he found himself and Kagami at the mercy of a yokai in the middle of nowhere, trapped by the element which defined them.
He hadn't recognised the yuki-onna for what it was right away—the hair had thrown him off, white and chopped short as it was—but now it was almost impossible to miss it. Who else could be this beautiful and would be found at the heart of a blizzard?
Who else would have saved a child in need when it had been failed by its elders.
No, without the cold and sleep addling his mind, it was easy to see the signs. Less easy to know what to do.
As if reading his mind and trying to sway his thoughts, the yuki-onna leaned in like a lover would in search of a kiss; their eyes were still warm but impossible to read. Just before their lips met, they stopped. Waited.
It was agonising in and of itself.
Was it an invitation? A dare? Either way, Madara knew what he wanted to do, had battled the urge ever since he first opened his eyes. But would it be the right thing to do?
Was there even a right answer, any choice at all? The stories told among the tribes living on the mountain were rather straightforward about the dangers of tangling with yokai in general and a yuki-onna in particular, but-
None had ever harmed a child. And what but Kagami had Madara to lose, which he wasn't willing to give in the face of such a temptation? If a kiss—the breath they'd share, and his life carried on it—was the price of Kagami being safe, Madara was willing to pay his dues.