It was four weeks before Christmas when I had my first speech in parliament.

It was unusual that someone who was not yet established got to speak there, but many things about me were unusual, ranging from my young age to my short time with the party and further to my exceptional skills in rhetorics. My party wanted me to speak for them in parliament to increase my chances of being voted into it in the elections after the New Years, but also because they believed my speech could increase the chance of the right gaining a majority in parliament, thus taking the government. Best case scenario, my party would also have more seats than Uchiha's party.

I stood up behind the speaker's table on the podium, looking out on the crowd in the vast wooden room.

And there he was.

I was disgusted at how well-noticeable he was. Wasn't it enough that he was non-white? Asian, even? Why did he have to have his hair like that? He was clearly showing off his long mane as well as his Asian-ness by putting his hair up in that mahogany chopstick. And he wore all black, as he always did in parliament. Probably everywhere else as well. What the fuck was the man playing at? He was looking down on his nails, seemingly not interested in me.

I pushed my shoulders back and began speaking. I had decided to keep a low profile, not come up with any surprises. I did a polished version of my television speech, changing enough so that it couldn't be criticised for being a copy of my first speech, yet so similar nobody could blame me for hiding my true agenda from the beginning. I still sent those venomous pecks to the Uchiha man without ever directly stating I spoke about him.

But what was infuriating to me was that he looked down the entire time. He didn't look at me even once. He inspected his nails, fingered a piece of hair falling down his forehead, crossed and uncrossed his legs. He didn't hide the fact that he was listening; he would furrow his brows at more complicated parts, pause and look into the distance when I said something that required some thought, relaxed again when I said something familiar from my previous speech. Yet, he wouldn't grant me the good grace of looking at me. It was clear to me he intentionally showed he was listening, but also refused to grant me his personal attention. It was incredibly humiliating.

When I was done, I made sure not to cast my eyes on him when I went down and took my guest seat at the front of the vast salon. I knew media had started analysing the two of us together, seeing us as political enemies. Some more low-quality magazines had even begun gossiping about a speculative personal relationship between us, how we hated each other in our private lives which, of course, wasn't true as we'd never actually met. I would not give them ammunition by capturing a photo of me staring at him while he ignored me. But even if he didn't look at me, he applauded warmly with the others as I sat down.

"Next speaker. Madara Uchiha. Please."

I looked up. I had no idea he was going to speak. Before I knew it, he walked past me, his polished black shoes echoing on the wooden floor over the warm applause he received. A waft of his dark, musky cologne caught me as he passed, intoxicating me.

And the man began speaking.

I listened intently. I did, in fact, look at him, seeing it would be childish if I refused just because he had refused to look at me. Once more, he blew me away. His speech was, like mine, nothing surprising or controversial, but he, like me, had such a high lowest level that is was still spectacular. When he was done, he was given a round of warm applause.

I stayed for the few hours in parliament I was scheduled for today, taking a pause for lunch with my party members at a close-by five star hotel restaurants before the election speeches continued. At three pm, the gathering closed, which meant I still had time to go back to my Samsung office to get some work done there in preparation for tomorrow morning. I had just packed my laptop into my computer bag when a shadow loomed over me.

Madara Uchiha had just sat down on my table, arms crossed, his black suit straining over his broad chest, his hair released from his chopstick. I noticed he'd put the chopstick in the lining of his trousers. I found that intriguing for some reason. His jawline was razor-sharp, his nose not as thin and long as mine but a bit more rounded, his eyebrows thick and well-shaped. 

He looked exquisite from up-front.

"Hi", he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

"You're sitting on my table", I remarked.

He looked down on the table on which he sat. Then, his face got a surprised expression, as if he suddenly realised something.

"Oh! You're right! Thank you for telling me. I did not know I was sitting on your table."

He clearly had no intention to move. It was obvious he was just mocking me. I wouldn't take the bait, I decided, especially since he didn't move.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You do well." I was taken aback. "I don't agree with your cause. But you're a good speaker. I'm learning something new every time I see you speak."

"But you didn't watch me", I said before I had time to think. Damn it! I should not have let him known I had noticed. It was very unusual of me to be this clumsy. It was, I believed, because I was so annoyed that this man had taken his time to actually learn something from me, while I had wasted mine being annoyed with him instead of learning something myself.

But Uchiha just smiled. It wasn't a mocking smirk but a genuine smile, albeit small.

"So you noticed that, huhh?"

"Wasn't that the point?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah", he said. "I was trying to manipulate the living daylights out of you. Did it work?"

I decided to use the same tone back. It wasn't mockery, I believed, rather more amicable. I didn't hate it.

"Oh, absolutely", I said. "I am now on the left."

"If only it was that easy", he said, his smile becoming bigger, arms still crossed.

"Why are you wasting your time?" I asked.

"On the left?"

"No. Talking to me."

I expected a snarky remark, but instead, he looked at me intently, as if wanting to formulate a good answer that matched the true reason.

"Because you're different", he said.

"That's very cliché", I said.

"Doesn't make it less true."

"Humour me", I demanded. "How am I different?"

I had expected he would refuse to answer, but to my surprise he answered, boring his dark eyes into mine.

"I saw how you battled within yourself when I mocked you. If you should take the bait or not." I was taken aback. Am I that easy to read? "All others in your party would've answered with anger. Trust me, I've tried." He crossed his arms. "But you didn't."

And with that, he sat off my table and left as quickly as he'd showed up.