one_long_mission | Real shinobi aren't sick, damnit!

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Real shinobi aren't sick, damnit!

This was exactly what went through Madara's head when he felt the fever threatening him. There was only so much he could do to push it back with willpower. He had better things to do than stay in bed!

He'd tried to find something to help against sucha thing, but really, all he remembered from similar situations were.... yeah, well, his mother pampering him, but that was really stupidly rare an occurence! He figured sick children makes everyone stupidly wibbly, and it's worse in mothers. He was grateful for being taken good care of, but... well.. he was on his own now.

Even though his usual clothes his most of his skin, the rashes were vivid, ugly.... and he tried to keep himself from looking in a mirror, or at his hands.
Unable to even bother himself to try and cook one of the simple things he could cook, he settled on drinking some juice while hoping this would just pass.
Except just as he thought that, the fever only seemed to get worse...

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When he'd realized that people in the village were getting sick, he'd gone out of his way to ask about the illness, then decided to check in on his ward, tapping on the door before pushing the door open. "Are you home Madara-kun?"

He gave a light groan at the noise, not quite used to visitors, but then.. only one person could visit, and sure enough-- yes, the voice was that of his benefactor.

...okay fine, his sort of adoptive father.
"M'here." he looked over, trying to hide the fact his head was pounding, sipping at some juice.

Edited 2013-04-30 01:32 (UTC)

He slipped into the building, leaving his shoes by the door and tracking the boy down, only to pause when he got a look at him. "So you caught it."

Okay fine, he could hide the fact he had a headache, but not those rashes. "Yea, and you're gonna catch that too, so as good as your intentions are, shouldn't you be stayin away?" he put his glass to his forehead, hoping the cold liquid within it could do some good. "...I mean, can't have a sick Hokage'n all, right? Nevermind a sick Hokage, sick shinobi period! If this was a battlefield, no one'd charge at you, then go 'oh you are sick today? Here, let me hit you a little less violently', you know?"

"I don't intend to get ill. It's transmitted through contact with someone who has it's fluids. Don't sneeze on me and we should be fine... in any case it's unlikely I'll stay healthy, it's supposed to last for days."

"..." he turned away, muttering. "I,m not gonna sneeze on you, but with all the people you're seeing daily and all, you're at a hella risk, you know." yes, that's him trying to hide he's worries about his.. well.. adoptive father figure type person.

"I know, but there isn't much to be done about that. I will, however, take care to wear a face mask, if that settles your mind?"

"Sounds like the only option." he murmured before sipping at some more juice and hoping it would do any good.

"Then I shall take care to do so." He inclined his head with a quirk of his lips.

"you look like you're havin a lot of fun with this." he glared, but found out even that brought more of this damnable headache, so quickly gave up and scowled at his juice instead. "Tch... I wouldn't be having this problem on a battlefield."
No, he would be having worse issues, but at least he could tear through bodies and pretend it's only the screams of the dying echoing in his head making him like this. After all, adrenalin always has kept much at bay...

"It is less that I'm having fun with it as the fact that I find myself happy that even when unwell you have concern for my welfare." He studied the child for a long moment, then nodded once, coming to a decision within himself. "Are you at all hungry?"

Busted! Look at him sulk and pretend he wasn't concerned at all, because... er... he really should not be demonstrative! Something about this not sounding like how tough he wants to sound, yea?

At the query, he gavea sigh and found himself slumping bonelessly into his chair even if he was trying not to. "...all I know is m'head hurts..." he wasn't even able to tell if he was hungry at all.

"I'll return shortly." He gave the boy a smile, then slipped out the door, taking the time to gather some leftover soup from the night before and rice he'd made for breakfast, as well as getting a thin scarf to wrap around his face and a pair of gloves before returning.

That should make the boy feel better, and this time he headed right for where he'd left the child, setting the items in his hands down and resting his hand gently on the boy's hair. "I felt it best to immediately cede to your concerns."

While Itachi had been gone, the boy had rested his head upon the table, but any rest still ran away from him If this had been anyone else, he would have said they looked lame with that... but.. he wasn't going to say such a thing to that Hokage. After all, he was the one helping him, when he could be doing more important things he had to do around the village.
He did look up as that gloved hand settled into his hair, vaguely reminded of how easier life was here.

He did succeed in finishing about half of the soup before switching to the rice, which he was unable to eat much of at all, seeming to think all that chewing was fairly troublesome, although because it was Itachi that made the effort of bringing it, he was trying to eat all of what he could.

Edited 2013-05-01 21:50 (UTC)

"You can save the rest for later Madara-kun." His tone was gentle, and he ran his fingers in a light pass through his hair before moving to put the soup away. "Have you tried taking a bath to clean the sores?"

He gave a light sigh and, despite his will, leaned slightly into the touch, eyes halfway closed as he followed his benefactor/adoptive father's movements. "..hn... haven't yet... I'll do that later, cause with what you told me, youMd catch it just touching that bath water after I soaked, or the towel..." and he really wouldn't like to be the one that got him sick.

"There's a reason I put on gloves." It was a murmur, and he put the food away, coming back to resume stroking the boy's hair. He was a strong boy, doubtlessly, but his youth was showing. "I want to help, even if I won't be here constantly."

He shifted slightly, then shuddered, willpower the only thing that kept him from scratching at his arm, because it had decided to flare up. "...cleaning those might... be an idea." he agreed. "What the hell do they call this?" he hissed. "It's started burning and it won't stop!" and if he wasn't scratching, he indeed was only doing it because he had been told not to.

"It's called Flame Fever." He gently tugged the boy's chair back. "I'll go run you a bath." There was another touch to his hair, then Itachi padded off to go do that for him.

Why? Just why... was that tiny gesture, that minuscule touch something so comforting? He was getting soft. He had to be! No one ever would touch him prior to that without him raging or snapping.

"...Flame Fever... stupidly apropriate..." he muttered to the empty room, pillowing his pounding head into his arms. "...wonder if there's a fire jutsu that can make people feel like this..." he grumbled.

It was a few minutes before he came back, and he ran his fingers across the child's shoulders. "Bath's ready. Come."

No, really.. if he was on a battlefield, no one would be going easy on him beacuse his head is feeling like it'd explode -and- his body is on fire.
...no wait if he was on a battlefield it would mean he wouldn,t be here and he would not have this Flame Fever thing!

Still, this was reality, and at the very least? He did have someone that knew better and was taking care of him. He wasn't sure how loud, or if he said it at all, but 'thank you' might have been up in the air as they reached the room where the tub awaited.

Once he had removed the haori and pants he always wore, one could clearly see the ravages these rashes had done to him, and his figers actually curled up, but he resisted the urge to scratch at these things. He climbed into the bath and was unable to help the long sigh of relief that was torn from him. The soak did feel good. Exponentially better than he would ahve thought.

He gathered the clothes to stick in the wash, trailing after the boy and taking in the extent of the damage with a discerning eye. No good. Still, he just dumped off the dirty cloth and moved to carefully pick out something that was softer than what the boy had been wearing, setting it by the tub to the side where he didn't put the towel, and set about looking for the soothing cream he knew was amid the things he'd initially bought the child. That got set next to the clothes.

He tried the soap, because really, it could only help, and after a good wash and some lounging because water did feel good, he let the water drain and dried himself before applying the cream he had spotted, feeling better by a vast margin, although the headache still stuck. He got clothed and brought the towel and bath mat to the wash as well.

"That... did a lot of good." he admitted. His eyes did have more of a light in them too.

"I'm glad. You should perhaps rest, so that you get better faster?" He inclined his head toward the bedroom.

"..hm.. yeah... I don,t feel any hungry, and that bath... felt too nice." he murmured. "You don't... have to stay here. I'll probably feel better after sleeping, so... " he gave a slow blink. "...thanks."

He once again brushed his fingers through his hair, then nodded once. "I'll be by to check on you again this evening."

Then he stepped back and turned to go.

For his part, the boy murmured a goodbye and went into his room, to sleep.... and so he would remain even once the Hokage came back.

[ Whoops, were you looking for some peace and quiet? Sorry about that, but the DOCTAH IS IN DA HOWSE. Deal with it.

Have a Hashirama slam open that door and sniff the air once. ]

I smell-- pestilence.

How are you feeling, big guy?

[ Smirking. He has fond memories of this brat! Fond and not-so-fond. Mostly fond. ]

Edited 2013-04-30 03:28 (UTC)

[First, how the hell do you know he lives here? Oh wait, duh, you can probably do that, misted God Shinobi.

The door slamming open nearly had him spill his juice, and even though his grip was shaky, he -was- holding a kunai. The voice was none he would recognize, and since his head hurt so goddamn much, he wasn't even going to try the sharingan unless he needed it. The words though?]

You're tellin' me I stink!? I'll sneeze on you! Who the hell are you to barge in here with--

[Madara, remember how your head was aching earluier? You just made it exponentially worse.

Hear him whimper and grab at the table or else he'll crumple.]

...damnit!

[he grits his teeth and through obvious effort does straighten and try to pretend he's better]

I'm feeling fine, go away. You didn't sound fond of that pestilence at all.

[ Uh-huh, god of shinobi; you got that right~ Also, what kind of a Hashirama would he be if it wasn't instinct to locate a Madara? ]

Nope! Not yet, you don't. I was merely stating the obvious. [ Er-- ] For science!

You don't sound too fond of pestilence yourself. But it's always been somewhat tricky to tell with you, Madara, since you're expressions are limited to whatever's in between 'vaguely annoyed' to 'killing you this instant'.

[ But he does eventually walk over to the bed and sit in it, turning halfway to look at his 'patient'. Now, however, Hashirama's expression turns serious. ]

Let me see your arms.

Edited (SORRY! ) 2013-04-30 19:11 (UTC)

[That kunai was still safely within reach by his pillow, you know!]

What's science got to do with anything? [cue annoyed expression there]

Rotting corpses are fine, as long as it's those of my enemies. Fools.

[Yes, that's him tensing further with every step you're taking, and once he is told you want to see his arms, too bad, they're under those blankets and firly clutching them.]

I should have just been pretending to sleep. You saw them earlier! [Yes, when he felt threatened and got his kunai. He'd stored it back though] Shoulda just paid attention then!

[yeah well, he had those rashes all over really, so there was his face, with a large one just below the lower left corner of his left eye.]

...how d'you even know my name? Can't be that famous yet... [he gave that almighty frown then]

[ Laughing here! You always missed those jokes D: ]

We've all been rotting away inside since the moment we came into the world. [ He's smiling as he says this, looking over those rashes while he smiled softly at the miniature version of his friend. ]

Pretending to be asleep? [ CHUCKLE ] I'd still have known~ I need to see how far the rash has progressed. When did you first start feeling ill?

[ Oh look, he's lifting up the other corner of that blanket. ]

Your name? [ Have another little smile ] You told me yourself.

[Your jokes were lame Hashirama, nothing to be missed!]

We're not rotting, you big moron! We're being alive! If you're rotting inside, your body's doing somethin hella wrong!

No, you don't need to see! No one needs to see! Don't you have better things to do than annoy me? [because no, he can't just settle down and accept help.]

[Oh, there is only so much of his legs he can hide even if he curls up, so yes, what can be seen of lower leg and that part of foot looks so awful it might be funny.]

I didn't tell you my name ever, you were just lucky!! I've never even met a guy that had clothes so lame, or that... stupid... an hairstyle... [Yes, the words coming slower and the way he turned from glaring to staring with an expression of disbelief proves that he did put two and two together, but his brain is just NOT wanting to accept it, so his first reaction?]

Did you ever cut your hair in all those decades!?

[ Pish posh, you're only saying that because you were too thick to get them D:< ]

Think about it. With every passing day, we only get closer to our death. [ Grinning~ And wow, nasty rashes everywhere, Madara, what on earth. And jeez! Do you have to go over how lame he looks, one by one, pick him apart, just like you've always done hvonfljkn?! Hashirama is totally pouting defiantly-- But ah, recognition at last? ]

I could ask the same of you. 'Least I brush mine once in a while~

[ But he has to click his tongue at the sight of those rashes. Hrm. ]

Try not to scratch those. Fluid from the vesicles would carry the rash on to other parts of the skin.

...I'm going to check your temperature. [ Administering a warning before he attempts to reach out and touch Madara's neck and/or forehead to determine how bad it is. Don't kill him, okay? He's waiting for permission, arm extended and paused midway. ]

I refuse to think about it, I'll call you rotting then, sheesh.

You're trying to say I never brushed or combed my hair!? That's completely idiotic! My hair just stays that way whatever I try doing to it!

[There's a glare at that noise, and then a snort]

You mean there's still parts that look like skin? Never thought you'd be that nice. [oh wait, no, Hashirama -was- always the nice guy, you just never wanted to see it after a certain point in time, Madara!] I'd LIKE it if you had that and were told NOT to scratch them! [okay he did scratch a few, but he sort of gave up when it got worse thankfully]

Even if I say 'hell no' you'll do it anyway... Just go ahead. [because he always has to sound annoyed, really. Oh and yes, it,s hot. Definitely hot. Sort of like having a katon jutsu inside. He definitely does not look that much bothered by it if he can still yell and be angry]

[ For a fleeting moment then, Hashirama's expression turns serious. ]

You have disemboweled enough men to know this by now.

[ The stench. It was a testament to the mockery of this foreign temple they worshiped as 'self'. It was nothing more than an egg shell-- one small misstep and everything came crumbling.Life was already so fragile and yet-- Hm. That moment of serious reflection fades away almost as quickly as it had come, and Hashirama yanks that blanket off.

He's grinning as he brings his hands to rest on Madara's foot first, a thin layer of chakra between them. ]

This will feel just a little funny, but I would advise you not to move.

[ By 'funny', he probably meant 'soothing'. ]

[He knows serious when he sees it, and the words... well, he did kill many enemies indeed even as young as he is, but yes, Hasirama, as old as friend appears now, most certainly knows much of this future Michi's Hokage told him of.]

Oh cause I had a choice? it was either me disemboweling them, or them disemboweling me. What would you choose? [A pause] Yeah, thought so.

[And then the blanket is unceremoniously taken away. As much as he struggles to reclaim it as it slips away, he is unsucesful. He truly doesn't look that great, unless you like large red spots everywhere as skin decoration.

He tenses as a hand touches his foot, but soon, soon he feels that permanent discomfort ebb away.]

I don't remember you being able to do that. [he tries not to look too relieved at the fading pain and discomfort in one area. He -tries- very hard, give him credit...] Shows how people improve. I can call you ojiisan then?

[ Choice? He isn't even going to answer that one, especially not when he remembers asking for a truce and having the offer ignored, only to stretch that war out for much longer than was necessary. ]

You didn't have this back then for me to do this for you.

[ His brows furrow in concentration, hands sliding higher where he can see more rashes. That frown soon gives way to a chuckle, though~ ]

If improving one's skills makes one a grandfather, perhaps you wouldn't mind too much if I called you Obaa-chan then, would you? In the future, of course. ...Since I don't see much improvement at present.

[ Ahem ]

[Well, yes, he heard about that too, and the hokage even suggested that it was Madara's fault that his brother died, thanks to keeping warring with other clans...]

.... guess not.

[What else could he say?]

I didn't call you grandad cause you had improved in skill! I called you that cause you're old! And still looking lame! And DON'T call me baachan, I'm younger than you and you wouldn't make sense!!

[ If you asked Hashirama, however, he would disagree. It was not Madara's fault Izuna died. Izuna could have never accepted Hashirama's help even if Madara had agreed to call it a truce. Izuna would never have wanted to be indebted to the Senju, especially not to Hashirama. ]

Then again, I might have accidentally dissolved your bones instead of healing you right back then~ [ He'd only been beginning at the time ;D ]

Ohhh, older and wiser. [ Winking at you, Maddikins. ] Ahh, but I can call your older self Obaa-chan then. Older and wiser, yes? And wrinkly.

[ Strangely, Hashirama had no wrinkles :| ]

[Don't bring that up aloud, you might change the whole future.]

Yeah, not letting you touch me when I go back. [a pause] ...not that you ever would succeed anyway! [besides, most battles ended in a draw with the army of Uchiha and Senju just retreating.]

...the hell are you winking at me for, old man? That's creepy. [Yeah and he's lying here unable to do much to save himself. Darn you weird grandpa.] Uh... go ahead and call him that, pretty sure he won't get it.

[No. He is not asking what this makes him.]

...so.. okay, your thing is working. Good. [ because it was getting harder to not scratch it when it felt like fire going up your skin] Whoever the hell named this disease went for somethin litteral.

[ He won't, promise. He knows better than to dig into old wounds that don't fully heal.

That part about not being able to touch makes him smile. That's a sad smile, though. Things have happened back at home, and he doesn't want to talk about it, but-- Here, he'll just focus on your other leg now, Madara. ]

Pull your head out of the gutter, child. I wink because I can. [ Have a grin instead. ] He responds to Madara-chan~ [ Snerk; all lies. But it's fun to tease~ ]

Oh? The disease has a name? [ Ahahaha, he had no idea D: ]

Whathehell-CHAN!? [have an instant reaction and him falling for that teasing, because he probably doesn't know better. After all, he heard there was some time of peace bwteen the Founders, so he assumes he's from then, because how else could he even... CHAN!? Really?]

Everything's got a name, this thing wouldn't be called splitting headache and horrifying rashes, that'd just be too useful to tell just what to expect. [he groaned, because yes, there was a headache too, and it was pretty firey there thanks to Hashirama making that silly kid just rage at nothing.]

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Real shinobi aren't sick, damnit!

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