𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗛𝗔'𝗦 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗘 || u. madara

Chapter 13

The snow continued to fall until nightfall. As you stand there, looking outside, you wonder if Uchiha Madara is back in his territory by now. You wonder if he wore the coat you gave him earlier to keep him warm on his short journey back to the Uchiha Clan territory.

It had indeed become colder that night, and you knew it would be the start of the many cold nights throughout winter. After letting out a sigh as though you're releasing all your worries, you decided to head inside your bedchamber and call it a night.

Madara said the next time you two will see each other again, you will no longer be his bride but his wife. On the seventh day of January, you two will tie the strings that were severed by the era of warring nations, the rift between the Uchiha and Senju, the two Clans that had been at war for many decades will finally be tied by this marriage, and for generations to come, will be unified.

It was a week later after that meeting when you thought about writing him a poem again. The lack of outdoor activities because of the snow that piled up had made you significantly bored as you had no choice but to stay in your quarters.

"You'll be writing him a poem again?" your handmaiden asked as she prepared the ink while you carefully lay the parchment on your desk.

"Yes," you said with a smile, but as beautiful as your smile is, it was also quite melancholic. "But I don't really expect him to write back this time. Knowing that he will read my poem is enough."

"Then, I shall leave you to your thoughts, my lady."

"Thank you for preparing the ink and parchment," you said as your handmaiden bowed her head before she left.

You were sitting inside your bedchamber, although you thought it would be nice to sit outside in the veranda to look over the snow-filled yard. But it was too cold outside and your body is not exactly strong against the cold weather.

Nonetheless, you stood up to open the windows so you could see the yard outside your quarters. You sat back down and looked at the paper that's still empty of even a dot of ink.

"Let's see, how should I start the poem."

Your fingers traced the paper, it was quite rough under your fingertips as you closed your eyes and continued to feel the texture of the paper under the palm of your hands.

And as you close your eyes, the cold winter breeze blows by. In that instant you were reminded of the first snowfall of the year when you were with Madara who kept you company, even for a transient moment in time.

You opened your eyes and looked down, a smile grazing your lips. "I think I know what to write now."

You dipped the brush in ink and carefully wrote down the poem you had in your thoughts. It was a free flow poem this time, not a tanka or haiku poem that is contained within a strict number of syllables and lines.