There was no way to comprehend the timing, no shadows to follow, or sun to watch, but by measure of small days alone huddled in his apartment starving for food and wanting for the lock to be undone on his door; he could count the seconds, the minutes, easily, if he wished to. As it were, it had been an hour, filled only by the slight shift of his clothing when he wiggled against the stone walls to gain a margin more comfort on one of his sides, or from the oh-so-sudtle shift of chains. There was no sentence in his mind, no topic readily in his head, he expected nothing and had only come for the escape. Although, without his own rationality speaking excuses, he knew that he had indeed come to see the veteran in want for a type of company none else could provide. Even if it was within a silence between two persons who had no business holding each others' company.

"You seem to know things you shouldn't about Konoha in these modern times, being dead as long as you were." It weren't a question, not in truth, no answer need come. Still, it had been his want for understanding that made it slip from his lips; a man lost in a desert not conserving his water properly and drinking regardless. As his head leant against the hard wall, eyes closing and not bothering to leave despite emotional exhaustion forcing him down. There was a brief rattle of chains, one he could sadly recognize by now as that of the other man attempting to move his shoulder for a scrap of comfort in his arms.

"Men need to eat, I am no different. Guards pay no heed to those they think impuissant, there is much to learn when there are no further distractions, save straining the ear." Naruto near laughed for the phrasing, amused mainly for the fact that it was by some measure blunt and sarcastic in equal force. Smudges of disdain, distaste, tethered within the words as a tickling additive. Still, where the wording might have confused him before, he understood it now. He chuckled a little low in his throat with the knowledge presented. Not surprised, though wishing to some trifle percent that he could be.

"Do they say anything interesting?" It slipped away before he considered it properly, though he scoffed for the fact that he had no true care that it had. In response he earned a dry chuckle, coming almost as superior; as if the man were not in chains, beaten and bloody, by some manner- perhaps by intensity of his character, Naruto felt as if Madara held control.

"All manners. A pathetic exemplification of weakness within Konoha- shinobi are not to think any man, any woman, impotent. Yet, perhaps I am wrong, and no threat remains within or without Konoha for the 'unity' of your nations. For the safety in knowing there shall never be any traitor to the village, never a wronged man who will call forth for revenge and in so doing bring with him chaos once more." The words had him grasping at his knees and pulling taught into himself, head lowered momentarily in recognition of their truth- all knew such unity had been temporary, but it was an ignored fact for want of ignorance. With greatest threat gone, each nation would take to arousing themselves as that new power. Konohagakure being no different. Despite that fact even he could acknowledge, there was a margin of hypocrisy to the statement which riled at his ire, that meager portion of him which still managed anger rather then dull acceptance.

"Just as you did?" It was spat, with petulance, with a want to hold an upper ground, to be right, and proven wrong; proven that his village was not so flawed and that the man afore him would look back upon his actions and comprehend he spoke of himself. What he gained was a cold response, frigid.

"I never betrayed Konoha, despite what lies you may have read. The attack I inflicted was upon the governance. I did not attack the village directly, I did not leave as a traitor, nor had I any want to destroy my home- my grievance was for what it would become. I supported Hashirama's ascension onto the role. However, Tobirama was to become next Hokage- and as I held the mantle of Patriarch of my clan at the time, it was my responsibility to insure they were not harmed for a Senju's leadership. The man's prejudice against my clan was obvious to all, he made hardly a bid to hide, for in truth, his views were held by many. He saw us not as allies, not as founders, but rather as prisoners who were to be monitored and used for a power he, himself, feared. My fears were dismissed as a paranoia due to war, nathless I love my clan and I pushed for comprehension of my fears from them and Hashirama. It did nought. Tobirama, though, I admit, perhaps noblely intentioned; wished to lead Konoha as an army to be feared; rather then a symbol of the peace that could be. Entirely against the ideal myself and Hashirama fought for." There was no particular emotion lining his voice, it was sharply spoken, a jibe, an icicle of rigid fact. Yet, there was something edged within, and it was hard to ignore, least for someone knowledgeable unto the minuscule divits hidden with voices; sadness. Madara spoke with the lisp of depression just lightly pressing over his tone. None whom could not vouch under their experience as people could recognize, nor so much as hear the mist of it over his words.

Then, through no will of his own, by the resonance they created, for the echo they inflicted around the walls of stone; the feeling familiar as wetness came upon his cheeks. Fast, heavily, and stinging at his retinas. It was scorn that laced his tears, a resentment because he knew the truth, the blistering fact that Uchiha Madara had been right in the past and remained so. For all that the village had become, progress made, they had become a power, not showcase peace- but rather, feared for the might of their shinobi. As for the Uchiha, now, in understanding the truth of their reality, he understood their bane, how Itachi must have struggled for reasoning, options other then what the Shinobi Council deemed fit; yet, while he stood opposed to the coup which would have created such a violent imbalance. It was horrendous, to comprehend that he and the Uchiha Clan held nye the same experience to his own.

It came as a grave ponderance, but he wondered whom saw the ostracization implanted for what it was. For all his elder wisdom, Naruto knew that the Third had not, that rested in clarity in his lack of action. Itachi, naturally, had- the man was extremely wise, and peaceful despite his past, loyal and torn. Naruto knew that as plain fact; Jiraiya would have, he knew so with all his heart; his mentor would have seen it with the eyes of an observer, unbias and compassionate. Perhaps Kakashi, should he have been involved. It hurt to understand that he could think of none other to name. With that his eyes looked to the other man, though shame lingered in his mind- he bore no fault and the knowledge of it scraped deeper into the wound of faith that had already existed- digging itself into his own grave; Konoha. His gaze was met with the hardened one- though he could barely see with the flicker of the fire near, just a smoldered pool of polished black, the fire imitating the crimson perception of his sharingan.

"You remain a frequent topic in discussion Uzumaki." For a reason he could not name, he flinched at his name spoken, but for no rational explanation, not for the man speaking it vile. Perhaps it was for cause-and-effect to those villagers whom used it in slur? Yet, that he had heard for nye all his life; there was no reason for it to disturb him now. Regardless, he kept his head high, even while he clutched tight at his knees. "They speak many humours. One avidly descriptive; the image of you within his home attempting to slay his daughter in sleep, a depiction of a small demon with nine tails slithering in the air, an ominous, rancid chakra corrupting his home. Yet, the tale ended valiantly, with his bold bravery in having made a critical blow upon you, wherein you ran into the undergrowth." It had not happened properly for many long months, and for it to occur within a cell of 'Death's Waiting Room,' was a sad thought; but he laughed. He threw his head back against the stone behind, a great guffaw that vibrated within his chest and sounded in echo throughout. Naturally, he knew there was rumour about him, tales which held no truth, but he scarce heard any.

As he settled, grinning for the concept. A chuckle coming from the cell as his own reverberance ended. Though, it came without mockery, rather an adjournment unto his own; and despite whom it was laughing with him, Naruto found it to be a joy that filled him for the sound. Amusement came hard to find within the year, and anyone to share it with was welcome. Though it seeped away rather quick as Naruto found himself considering.

"Obito didn't seem to have to same ideal as you- why partner with him? I mean, what was his goal?" It scraped at the roof of his mouth to ask, still in understanding the shackled man a slight more, it brought further questioning. For he did not comprehend the other Uchiha's reasoning in the war, he proclaimed nothing as mighty as Madara did. Yet another chuckle came forth, this one mocking however.

"Obito had an in-trapped mind, taken from his own experience with a child called Rin of his village. He allowed her death to impact him so that he lost a sense of self-determination, he was focused only on the prospect of returning her to live again. Thus, I found him a simplistic man to use, he was amenable to allowing his hatred to coilless into a bile. It was grotesque. The grieving action of a child caused your war, it was not of my design. My intention was never war." Twisting internally, his insides flipped slightly for the news, one section of him rebelling against the concept; for grasping such a rationality did not function within his logical mind, perhaps that section of him which harboured only emotion- even so, countless died- should what Madara say be fact, what a grim comprehension it brought. Yet, within that same statement came contradiction.

It brought him to stand a fit of energy. "If that's true, why did you ally with him?! If you didn't agree with the war why did you fight in it?!" It was idiotic he knew to yell at a man for answers, nathless he had done so before, and it came as no chagrin to do so now. It stuttered upon him, his mind, the concept, to comprehend Madara taking the ideal of a man broken by a loss and utilizing him to meet his own ends; under knowledge that Madara remained the Uchiha who found fault in the world as it were. Thus to do what he despised was hypocrisy at its most primordial, and in watching the man respond; he too, knew it well. For he scoffed loudly, but it sounded as too loud, and it was not for amusement, a nye growl sounding throughout the cell following. The rustle of chains swift afterwards as Madara raised his head. His face was smeared with dyed blood originating from his skelp as his hair stuck down, his eyes were narrowed in a glare so minatory the blond backed to the wall for its weight. In some manner it was familiar, however, Sasuke's had never borne such intensity. In fact, it was an expression Naruto knew the veteran had not made when in battle, no, then; Madara had maintained such a dignity, emotion nye forgone for most of the battle -though in facing the Shodai that had shifted rather dramatically.- In truth, Naruto had considered the possibility the man was nye too controlled. However, the mist of sadness he had witnessed before, coupled with the blatant, malicious, anger present currently- entirely confuted that.

"In candour, he was a tool. His vindictive hatred was valuable in order to manipulate circumstance, thus, I did. A man lost within the boundaries of such rancour is a fool, one to be easily manipulated, such as my own pitiful experience. I had want for change to evolve peace, depicted such unto him, and the child choose violence in advocacy. In regards to the matter of my fighting; I fought because I am adapt to war, tis a method I knew how to opperate within, gruesome as it may be. I do not pretend I am a diplomatic man. Despite this, I had no want for another battle such as the like, yet, what option were there unto me? Regardless of morale, it remained an opportunity to purge the world of the strife so indured, thus, I took the option presented." An edge had serrated his tone, an obvious anger sharpening each pronunciation with a vicious side, therein cut each word upon the skin as if to seep within the very flesh with its meaning. The logic within was flawed by all measure, though not incomprehensible, withall, Naruto understood the man's rationale. "There were no other plausible means of success after I had been brought into battle, it weren't as if I could have left and begun again." The edge remained, though even as it might of came forth as scornful to another, Naruto found the way it was said; pointed. Poignant, directed with nicety, because Madara knew he would understand, more then anyone else would.

Knowing that he did, however, had bile rise fast into the blond's throat, acidic and burning. Tasting of excuses, as if the suffering endured by those slayn, by those standing; had been worth all for the idealization that the many would be blessed into the dream world the Uchiha had sought. Naruto found a sickness in the fact he could sympathize with the criminal's viewpoint. What rang worse however, was the silence following, blistering, as within that overhung quiet, Uzumaki Naruto knew Uchiha Madara was waiting for him to understand why he had fought in a war he had no desire for, why he had taken and used Obito's obsession as an advantage. This, so drastically made worse by the pitiful understanding; that from all persons within the village, the man whom had killed his friends, hundreds of shinobi, obliterated a battlefield; could acknowledge and understand the morals, idealizations and personality of which Naruto held; he understood it best. In a way, moreso then Sasuke had.

"My master, my teacher, my friends, hundreds- thousands of good shinobi, died because of this war..." Then it came, as once more his tears saw fit to follow with the path of his mood as it divided. Names spewing free as if waste in his mouth. "Choji-kun, Tenten-chan, Neji-kun, Inochi-san, Shikaku-san, Shino-kun, Genma-san, Hyuuga-san, Anko-san, Kiba-kun,Yamato-sensei, Asuma-sensei, Iruka-sensei, Jiraiya-sensei, Kakashi-sensei, Sasuke..." It burned, his mind burned so bright in an anger so foul, a breath so viciously stung, and it throbbed painful as his knuckles met brutally with the stone. "Died for this war because he- he- that man, wanted someone else to cry!?" What point was there to say, he did not know who to properly blame. Though his mind, the rationality that remained underneath the bubbling of Kurama's chakra under his skin spoke vivid; Madara had not plotted the war, he had planned for sacrifice, such as the Jinjuuriki, but nothing audacious. Obito had plotted the war, he had used and harmed -killed, countless people for it to occur; he had crafted the Akatsuki by manipulating Nagato. He had pushed Itachi into killing his clan 'for the greater good' and then aided. Attempted -and briefly succeeded- to turn Sasuke into a pawn against the village. Killed both the Forth Hokage and Uzumaki Kushina, not to mention countless others in the Kyuubi attack. There was more which Naruto could not consider, perhaps had no wish to; not when his skin was already boiling with the chakra surrounding and the blazing haze of heat beginning to fog his brain.

"Uzumaki!" He stilled, momentary, yet enough to give vague thought onto his own action- rather reverently staring upon his own fist with incomprehension, not recognizing the inflamed limb, only slightly understanding it to be his own. Reddened, the heat of a two-degree burn prominent, yet not bloodied or severely affected, slowly healing as common. The blast of sharpened baritone having unexpectedly shocked him away from his own disassociation, a blessing in itself, though disturbing for whom had yelled- and by miracle fished into his subconscious and managed to break a frenzy that none had done previously. Naruto would have suspected the sharingan being responsible; if it weren't for the fact he wasn't presently looking at the man, and the chakra chains he bore prevented him accumulating nearly any chakra -so Naruto could consider that a sharingan might actually be possible, but not for long, and again, Naruto was not directly facing the man, nevermind gazing into his eyes.- The concept that he might stop his transition with vocals alone was disturbing. With cloak gone however, he did turn to stare at the man in question, perhaps betraying disturbance by mere expression; for although mild, the smirk was prominent upon the man's face unto one who knew had to distinguish between complete stoicism and derisory amusement.

Naruto knew it would be abortive to glare, yet did so regardless; amounting to nothing but a speculative eyebrow raised. With a type of mild satire. In truth, the blond did not know a man of such measure could even manage to be humorous; nevermind find a humour within a dank cell of moldue, blood, and the smell of rotting flesh hinted within the air.

"How did you...?" To be candid, a section of him pleading for ignorance had no want to know, the fact that it had occurred being distressful enough upon his mentality. He shook his head rather swiftly, deciding that he had no want to know, bellying that, if the Uchiha did have a means of actually controlling him or the Kyuubi be it inevitable that he would have utilized such ability during the war. Instead, with his vex at the man's hidden skill; he choose to observe him properly. The blood dried down his face and matting his hair down drew the eyes automatically. Therein, in general, his once august hair was oleaginous, laying limp and long down his back, much more then it had been during battle; where it had been large and regal with great curls bushling out as waves, falling down just past his tailbone in a curtain of midnight black. There were many small lashings over his body, minor scratches with only the slightest sight of red within to distinguish it as bleeding, others were swollen red and sensitive. There was a contrasting line around his neck, a purple tone, which Naruto flinched upon the realization it was likely made by a rope or fabric during strangulation. With that, the reluctance he had to face understanding his village was torturing a man clogging his throat slightly more then it had previously.

He had the want to turn his eyes away, but he could not with the knowledge, for he had no want to be a coward, with his bearing of partical responsibility. "Do they?.." Coward indeed, he scorned, unable to force the words out. "Torture you?" He snapped his mouth shut with the words, vomit already swarming in his esophagus and churning his stomach. It weren't as if he was ignorant unto the fact, the evidence was stark, but a small childish part of his mind wanted to ask; just to be denied.

"Yes, as best as they injudicious minds can conceptualize." His words were twisted, and by all standard it sounded as if he were insulting them for how poor their attempts were. Peculiar, as he was the man suffering through their techniques, to mock was nye saying they should try harder. However, his confusion must have been well expressed for Madara continued. "Physical torture has long been considered a nugatory means of interrogation, indeed, prior to my birth. The value it harbours is to grant the perpetrator an invigorated feeling of control- supremacy over another." Acid tainted his tongue with the words. "Mental torture however, is. Should you delve into a mans' mind with a genjutsu you may allude him that he speaks to a loved one or a superior. Indeed, if you pull correctly within a man's mind you may convince him that he is the one in the wrong. This does not work when dancing a knife upon his skin- for therein, you are still the one causing injury, you are to blame for his pain and he will feel no need to submit. One cannot truly be subservient unto another, only themself." The implication settled heavily into the air, Naruto squirmed under the choking smog it created, as if under his skin.

"Then they haven't used a genjutsu on you?" There was an abrupt burst of laughter- unexpected and loud. Perhaps unintentioned for it was so short with only a single sound, yet, the sound of genuine amusement startled the Jinjuuriki momentarily for its clarity and lacking malicious undertone. For as he stared to the man, there rested a smile, not by any means large; but it was certainly humoured, nye amicable.

"An Uchiha cannot fall under an illusion as such- unless the caster is one of his own kin. Even so, such is rare, for the duration is heavily limited by ability of victim and user each." Within the area of chilled cave, a heat came rather fast upon his cheeks and undercollar, embarrassment coming swift for having asked such an impudent question. The answer was a rather obvious one by all measure; the clan had been revered for their skill in genjutsu and visual prowess. His eyes found the ground fast, much as his foot shifted around seeking small pebbles to kick for the oppressive feeling of embarrassment and coupled shame. "My clan is gone however, and they cannot be used to manipulate me." There was a divet sinking his words and a whisp outwards that carried them. Not in a victory for the village's lacking chance, rather a melancholy; as if he were speaking both in sadness of his clan's passing, yet relief that they could not be used.

Were he a man blinded by misunderstanding contrived from a textbook's introduction, he might find it odd; that a man supposedly cast away from his clan be so devout unto them. However, with what he presently understood, with gravitating woe; that the man whom became a figure for disloyalty, evil, and hatred, was actually one staunchly loyal to his village and entirely benignant unto his kin. Such a revelation unto misconception, misinformation, perhaps even blatant lies corrupted for the allurment of manipulation; had him want to release the pending emotion barely clinging within his eyes.

There was much he had the want to say, a conjugation of apologies, half-formed comforts, and shouts of grief formed purely from his own punitive wish for a vengeance that held no meaning against what he now knew of the man. None of it would mean anything unto a man who's hopes had been dashed for a year- and perhaps, longer then that, in all candour. For Naruto knew better then any man, woman, or child; once hope feld you, the want to live in the world grew so minimal you lived for the simple concept of not dying; not enjoyment, not in seeking happiness, love, or hatred. So there Madara sat, and the Uzumaki- despite his own menial want to ignore his empathy with the deaths of so many drifting around his mind,- wished to be able to ease his bane. Yet, knew no way to do so, for the only way he had climbed out of his pitying hole was by happenstance; meeting people who had a want to know him and finding solace in their friendship or companionship, hope rekindling fot he concept that he might some meaning unto himself with their presence. The lone Uchiha could not experience that.

He hung his head walking out the cell, not certain where his thoughts had drifted, but knowing that his emotions were so wracked he had no want to deal with anyone within his own village. It was night, and the mist of his breath swirled out illuminated strangely with the streetlights. He looked up, but could not properly see the stars as possible when on a mission, they were obscured too much by the gleam of the lamps above.