Squirming to get away from the poke, Naruto also rolled over onto his side, sleepy blue eyes blinking open and smile tugging that little bit wider as he gazed adoringly at his boyfriend’s face.
"You really wanna do this fight? ‘Cuz, i could go all day." This, of course, was ended with a wide yawn, and Naruto’s body arched beneath the covers as he stretched, his back popping twice as a pleased grunt escaped his lips.
Tell Madara something about himself?? God, Naruto was physically fighting back the urge to spit out ‘i like long walks on the beach’- that was, however, until the Uchiha kept speaking. Naruto’s lips tightened, his eyes hardening and his brows furrowing into a dark glare. Oh, he’d lost people in this war. He’d lost friends. He’d lost family. He’d watched strangers die and found himself useless to help them. He’d felt the burning rage well up within him and he’d felt the self loathing of a bystander watching the war from afar.
“Don’t-” He snarled, lips curling back defiantly. “-Think for one moment i haven’t lost anybody to this. You say we had nothing to do with this war!? We were dragged into it!! This is your mess and we’re still paying for it and i have seen friends die because of you!!”
The words were spat like venom, and Naruto dug his nails into the scuffed wood of the chair in an attempt to keep them away from the Uchiha’s damned face. He was so frustrated with this game; this back and forth between the two shinobi!! He was wasting time and whatever patience Naruto did possess was wearing thin. His words were becoming riskier, he knew, but he couldn’t stop them as they escaped him.
Briefly, he wondered how standing up and screaming ‘I’M FROM THE FUTURE AND YOU’RE A MAJOR DICK THERE TOO!’ would go down, but discarded the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. He didn’t feel like dying today, nor did he feel like being thoroughly interrogated for his all-powerful knowledge of the future.
Not that they’d get that much out of him anyway. He’d never paid attention to Iruka-sensei’s history lessons, and his knowledge of their previous war was limited to what he’d learned and experienced himself.
That response, that anger, that frustration, every word of it every spike of chakra and flash of the eyes, each twitch of the muscles, that was real. There was nothing feigned, skillfully or otherwise about those words. Who, or whatever Naruto really was, he was speaking the truth when he said that he had lost people to war. It was the most brutal honesty that had been shown thus far, and it lit warning beacons in his mind.
The emphasis on words, this boy blamed him personally and it wasn’t a far stretch to believe that he would extend that blame to the rest of Uchiha as so many other clans did. Madara had once believed in listening to others, and in this moment he was thankful for all the conversations he had once had with Hashirama about showing your guts to another, because this boy had just shown more than he would have expected to get.
He kept his chakra a forced calm, just enough that only a skilled sensor would detect that he was prepared to attack or respond to one in fractions of a second. Outwardly, he expressed peaked interest, straightening up slightly, still keeping his eyes locked on those defiant blue ones. The war had been raging for centuries before Madara had been born, but still the Uzumaki was acting as if he had personally thrown the world into this darkness.
“We have never had excessive conflict with the Uzumaki,” he said in a measured tone. “You may blame me, but I assure you your clan has been involved in this war as long as mine has. This mess started long before our generation.”
Petulant silence followed, Naruto lowering his head as a seething rage burned in his belly. He hated this man in front of him with such an intensity that it scared him, but at the end of the day, the man that Naruto hated was not this man. This man was a shinobi, doing what he could to protect his people in the most honourable way he knew. This man was a leader, fighting a war that had been passed down to him from those that had fought before. This man had yet to commit the atrocities that he would one day commit, and had yet to take those that Naruto loved away from him.
Yet, despite all that, Madara was Madara, and that alone was enough to have Naruto’s nails digging back into the surface of the scuffed wood of his chair. He hated a man for things he had yet to do, yet he felt justified in his anger whenever he caught sight of those cool, emotionless eyes.
So Naruto kept his head down, glaring hatefully at the ground between his feet as his eyes burned with frustrated tears he didn’t allow to fall. His throat felt tight, and the hands that dug nails into the wood were white knuckled and painful from the pressure.
"It’s not our war." He managed to choke out through gritted teeth, voice strained as he sniffled. Despite his admirable effort, his words hitched as his vision blurred. "Why do we always have to fight wars that aren’t ours?"
"S’okay." Came the muffled reply, a smile evident in the blond’s voice even with his face pressed to the pillow. There wasn’t exactly much room to move with Itachi’s entire weight bearing down on him, after all. "But i missed you more."
"Oh, ‘kay." Came the sleepy reply, Naruto letting himself slump back down onto the bedding. He smiled as Itachi pressed his face to his neck, feeling the warm puffs of breath against his skin.