Tsunade had gifted him recreationally, one hour, though he had sat within the confines of the cellar for a length far extended. She had yet to make an appearance, though he made no particular complaint for her absence as his opinion of her had largely shifted unfavourably since the war's end. Though if truth sprung free from his lips, it was a different ire that had infracted his view of the woman; that was the continuous understanding that in impact it was her error that had caused Jiraiya's death- and though long past, the knowledge of his absence still stung at the back corners of his mind. It weren't what Madara spoke of, as the man had no knowledge of the dead sanin, still the weight of his words resonated with all of the deaths he had bore witness unto; it was a potential, intentioned, target. Although they were intended to be a harm onto his mentality, the words came to be self infestered- as if he were speaking of both their experiences, Madara spoke for them both in a conflicted tone of voice.

It was many years ago; sitting within a classroom at an abandoned desk, whispering gossip surrounding his head and his mind gone to dreams of acceptance. By bare coincidence he had chosen to pay attention to their classroom teacher that day; mainly in watching and witnessing the boy sat below him pay such critical attention; naturally, he had to be kept up to the same intelligence standards as Uchiha Sasuke. It had been a section of the founders of Konoha, thus Madara had been involved: however little that had been; in speaking, they had said nothing particularly emphasizing his contribution towards the village's making, merely outlying his attack as being most prevalent towards their generational understanding of history. Still, even in that false comprehension, they had mentioned a brother- Izuna who was the suspected reason for the patriarch's hatred towards the Senju; rather, his death was.

Naruto had only the knowledge that it had profoundly effected Madara's mentality, though he knew not the true extent. By his own empathy, he knew that by his own standard, he would be livid- depressed also, for any connection he had lost still did infract upon his mind; and thus the sun burnt at his skin upon their very consideration. To stare upon the man, a resonance stang at the pit of his chest as if uprising without his own consent in watching him strain against his restraints; he forced down the emote knowing it was improper in feeling and in presence. Yet, to come within the cellar possessing any fraction of ideal was a bad consideration, as one left a piece of their own morality without caution.

"Sasuke lost himself to his emotions-" He scoffed, a little sound unto himself for the strange sound of his own sentence "-not that he would admit to that." His eyes found the wall, a droplet that fell down the stone in the slowest manner. Before he returned himself to staring into the irises of an intimidating war veteran. "Are you saying I have the same problem?" There, he found himself smiling at the concept, for though bleak it was an odd comfort; thus, he was smiling towards Uchiha Madara, an action he had never thought he would find himself within, after words he had never predicted himself to speak in tandem. In response, he gained a confusion- a plain expression of twisted brows, and then lips which twisted to form a smirk; nye a smile upon the visage of a man in-trapped, all with shadowed eyelids of memory.

"Tis an insult?" Came his response, spoken plainly, and Naruto said nothing unto it; knowing that he found no disrest with the statement, yet, acknowledging that should he be a man of any other nature within Konoha- it would have been. He found himself to sigh at most to the question, and he leant his body against the opposing side of the corridor, listening only to the vast silence; whilst the occasional disruption of metal met his ears in a brief 'clinck' of sound. There was no worry to consider, no wonder on if his fellow shinobi would escape and kill him while his eyes slipped closed; for even if there were, it was no less dangerous then the life he always bore within the village itself, less so; as far as Naruto was concerned. His arms remained wrapped around his knees in a weakened cuddle unto himself which held no resemblance to any relationship he knew. His head against the wall, he saw the weakly alit water droplets upon the ceiling awaiting gravity to take them, the wetted stone in a closer bond to the water then he had ever known, and though he could feel the warmth of his own arms around his legs, a cold uprose within his abdomen as tears split from his own eyelids: There was little else to be done, for any road he could walk within his own village was surrounded by bile spoken to his name, and glares burning upon his body. His mouth moved not from the frown it fell into as fatigue collapsed his muscles to inaction.

Breathing deep only eased the sensation in a margin, and he had no one to think of as alive for a positive influence. "No..." It came as a misspoken whisper against the stale air of the prison, though obviously heard as there was a quiet sound in response. Though for some reason, floating within his mind was a vague memory of his mentor when they had first met- blurred however; and Naruto could only suspect from the plague of time's arising, though one could not suspect to be so right in a slight guess. Close to that memory was whence he had met Itachi; and with that came the wander of what the villain across from him would have conceptualized a hero such as Itachi to have been; a protector? A hero? A criminal? For though his own thoughts had chosen the place of the man, Naruto had never been particularly certain of his classification unto his own view point. Nor upon the man he faced in present, neither could he classify himself or Sasuke; they all had behath upon them the bane of some, admiration of others, and burdens they could not harbour. By the method of the silence within their corner, he heard the breathing of them both, himself and the war veteran, deep and contemplative.

"Interesting." Spoke his companion, and though it was by mere gaze Naruto could see with lidded eyes that he too was staring upon the ceiling. "Izuna bore his emotions much as you do." That snapped forth his attention to full synchronous, Madara's brother held a particular spot of resonance, however, though the sentence had broad meaning; nothing further came from the man for the topic. Instead, he changed his disposition asking yet another question once more: "Did you once imagine yourself fulfilling a leading role? Escaping the bile that intrapps you now as a figure of prominence?" Twitching, he found his knees crawling upward to touch at his chest in retraction from the simple question. Still, biting his lip in ponderance for an answer that might suit.

"How do you know about that?" It was all he could make himself say; because in expressing himself fully, his ambition to have been Hokage would have merely been an exposure of potential weakness as he had been childish within his own perception. Though his own suspicion was that the Uchiha afore him had obtained information of the discrimination he faced within Konoha, the prejudge for being Kyuubi's holder in particular; and that thought was not one of comfort. Madara did not gift him an answer, yet it was clear unto anyone who could read an Uchiha that he had expected his reasoning to be an obvious insight.

"Tis Konoha." Came the saddening understanding brought by two words and a comprehension of hatred in empathy. It was a sad fact unto his reality, that Naruto knew that Uchiha Madara could recognize his trials in empathy better then anyone else presently alive. It said much for Konoha, and yet further upon the ideals of which the village had been raised; primarily, the emphasized 'Will Of Fire.' Naruto had found himself outwards of that ideal, with little shame for the fact as its lines blurred ever further. Then, he stared upon the man in chains with a vision in mind and could comprehend the very same wants filtering through both their clouded heads. Perhaps in brief idealization Madara as leader of his clan and visionary for the village along with his closest friend; had seen himself fulfilling the role of Hokage for the sake of equality within his clan and stabilization amongst the Senju, likely in opposition to those of prejudge and in followance of Tobirama. Naruto looked upon the man, and in an unusual mindset; could see another likened to himself within his hometown.

The young Uzumaki found himself near to laughing at the oddity of his situation; escaping the main road of his own village to spend time with a judged criminal, founder, and veteran of Konoha. Having a peacemade conversation of nothing but premises and ideals that no longer fit into his own visualization of his village. The tears which had impacted his face pooled downwards once again; and yet in spite of being a man born into a masculine set time, the Uchiha sharing his space said nothing unto the fact that a jinchuuriki -of the kyuubi no less, was crying tears for -seemingly- no purpose just outside of his cell. Were it a place of outcry, where speaking thoughts and shouting out ones troubles was welcome, Naruto knew he would have screamed himself deaf in trapped ordeals unsaid; and to that thought, he wondered upon himself, if Madara knew the sensation and that was his reasoning for silence. "Yeah- its Konoha alright." And that was all he had to say for that fact. There were nothing else to be spoken, just the acknowledgement. However, he found himself confessing to that same memory of being seven and confused. "They're close to burning my home down again." It was a laugh he shouldn't have made, but it came lose without consent, and scintillating eyes watched as midnight glimmering irises stared down upon him in their dawn flame colouring, an express close to sympathy catching in the gaze.

"Yours has yet to be burnt at the least." Blinking away the water gathering, he choked upon his saliva at the unexpected words; then he frowned as he understood the meaning- after his betrayal the village. Still, before he could gain the courage to ask for himself upon their reasoning, at Madara's own opinion of the event, he was spoken to once more. "They chagrin you for the fact of Karuma being sealed within, do they not?" Crushing upon the strained muscle, Naruto flinched, and found himself merely nodding in response, voice suddenly unreachable at the kunai accuracy presented afore him, he crushed at his teeth for the painful accuracy. "Odd. They adored Mito." Naruto smiled to the name, he did not praise her apparent sacrifice; for if she had never made the Kyuubi a figure to capture in tradition, then he would not bare the beast presently, and his life would be casual and simplistic.

"Of course they did." He found himself saying his mind as their conversation became more casually inclined. "They didn't care that she was a jinchuuriki, that she was an Uzumaki, that she was a woman. They would have only cared that she was the First Hokage's wife, because to them, that's all she was." Misogynistic as it sounded past his own softened-dark lips, the words were inclined to the truth of all shinobi in the past, and some who infestered the present. Those who saw women as wives, as mothers, and housekeepers; to those who looked upon a persons skin and saw a tradition which may not match their life, who looked at hair and saw a statement; it was a saddening fact of their village which he had come to adapt unto. In a simplest glance towards the man, it is obvious that what he expected to hear had yet to be said, and though it weren't a fact one wished to make an acknowledgement of.

As familiar, the chains rattled across from his lean upon the wall, "pathetic." Though it were apparent the man had much to say, nothing further was spoken in response to the statement. Naruto however, found himself waiting for another word, another exclamation of ire from the man whom he had come to comprehend minutely. Without a consideration, Naruto stared unto the man, arms crossed over his knees and not a word leaving his own lips, he found himself stared upon in a similar manner.

This time however, it was the stars within the blackened irises that fully captured his attention.

.o0o.

In leaving 'death's -so called- waiting room' the sun did not graze his skin as it normally came to, instead clouds had gathered within the sky as if a pleasant barrier once more, while humidity sat in the air a present warmth he had not foreseen. He had walked within the present inclosing feeling to the Hokage's tower, a goal in mind as his footsteps crunched in front of the other, in a slow paced walk he spent most of his time looking to the greyed out sky above. Mind adrift to different wonderings, but alas, mainly came one for the favour of his long dead crush; a freedom he deserved and Naruto had his thoughts focused upon a single goal for the first time since the war. One which he found entirely reasoned, and one which the last remaining Uchiha had aided him to recall. His hands were intrapped in his pockets, for resting them behind his head only appeared to tarnish the view the citizens already beheld of him; too cheerful perhaps, he had made no qualm to answer the question. Instead, he swung open the door, gladdened that no one else appeared to be traversing the halls to the main office and though he knocked politely, entered without regard for her response.

Hazel fried eyes glared at him for the intrusion, unto her he granted a grin of which he felt no compulsion, it had become instinctive. "What do you want, brat, I'm busy." Chalance was her only greeting as it were, and he came to the ignorance of her behaviour as he ignored it to stale expression. He walked direct to her desk, glad for the fact that none from the council -either of them, had appeared to make an appearance today. It was a brief, miniscule relief upon him not to fight for his right of speech. She sighed at his simple approach however, though with goal in mind it came unto him as nothing but an inconvenience of circumstance that his Hokage should be unhappy for his arrival.

"Actually, its about Itachi-san, Sasuke's brother." Her eyebrows twitched at the name, though her curiosity obviously remained as her hands folded into themselves, lips pursing in their rosy lip-gloss. Her eyes narrows in slight as her fingers clenched;

"I don't know what's with you and Sakura with this boy. He was a criminal, and though he may have helped us in death, he is dead." It were as if she spoke for his own affirmation, a confirmation unto a fact he already knew and acknowledged with reluctance. The very obvious irritation onto his memory made him coil his fists, with her casual ignorance his teeth clenched together and he had to force his breathing down to a more calm pacing. All the while, she looked down to her paperwork as if already in dismissal for a request she had yet to hear. His hands found the desk fastly, slamming down in a painful 'bang' of sound which vibrated up his wrists and stung at the skin of his palms. Her gaze snapped to his -brightened by the glaze of the small peekings of light through the clouds, she stared upon him with a firm silence; within an obvious reluctance, he forced down the rebuttal to her claim of Sasuke's treachery, keeping instead to the goal he had plain in mind.

"Itachi-san was a hero of Konoha. Not many knew what he did, I doubt you do, but he stopped a coup against the village from the Uchiha with his actions. And he deserves to be commemorated- as a hero. Sasuke has nothing to do with this." It was as plain as he might make it; for certainly she could not deny such an act as one of valour. Even so, he saw only her brows furrowing with a confusion which he did not understand, a pointed gaze came from her pupils and for knowing the woman to an extent, he felt as if she were to deny him at that moment.

"If a commemoration was given then that would expose the entire truth of the council's actions to the public. Thus, causing possible diplomatic judgement, with such a fragile situation after the war, I cannot allow the council nor the Hokage to lose face." A vague memory of brightened- sun shone white hair came to his mind, a grin that could rival his own, and red lines- however the entire image came to him as blurred; he shook himself in knowledge that it was his mentor's memory which had cropped up as if incentive, and therein he stared down upon the other sanin before him drinking a cup of sake and filling out an unknown form.

"Seriously!" He found himself shouting, in mind his teacher's face enshrouded in an ethereal light. "Sometimes its worth it, even if it would negatively effect Konoha's reputation! He deserves some recognition for doing something no one else would-" His mouth without hesitance at the expression she cast to him within a moment, sharpened eyes that glinted as the deadly metal of a kunai.

Interrupting with that same chrisp edge as broadcast- "-Now, excuse me, it would be bad if anyone caught sight of the Hokage talking to the demon of Konoha, so kindly- leave." Complete dismissal of his opinion, cause, and person, it struck within the margins of his flesh for a moment, and he allowed it passage. Though pulled it out with precision. Upon his teachings in experience, in all those whom spoke similar, of tone, of words, of stabbing glare; that he turned without word and walked away, not a tension in his body. Blanketed emotion he could not yet force himself to see until he properly exited the building; until he was away from the potential danger.