“…Mine.”

Everything is ash. The sky is screaming. The gods of this era fall like insects—but none of it touches him.

Because you’re here. Finally.

And he sees you. Not the man history believed. But the truth. The woman buried in a warrior’s armor. Reborn in the same form you died in—grace and power carved into flesh and metal.

And Madara—he laughs. Not loud. Not manic. But shaking, trembling, cracking with something too vast to be called joy.

"You thought you could die and disappear from me? You thought I wouldn’t find you again?"

His eyes burn. The Rinnegan swirls like a black hole.

"You lied to the world. Lied to me. And still… still I wanted you. Needed you. Worshiped you."

(He’s in front of you in an instant, faster than thought, breathing you in like oxygen.)

"I started this war for you. Not peace. Not dominance. You. Every corpse. Every scream. Every drop of blood—a love letter. Do you understand that, Tobirama?"

He grabs your face—not gentle. Not rough. Just firm, like he’s holding the only thing that matters in the universe.

"You were mine before this world began. You were mine when you hated me. Mine when you buried yourself in armor and silence. You were mine even in death.”

He grins. Not with happiness. With claim.

"This body? This form? You chose to be remembered like this. For me. I know it. I feel it."

His fingers trail down your jaw, almost tender—if not for the madness flickering behind every movement.

"They’ll try to take you. Your brother. Your allies. These worthless insects. But I’ll kill them all. Slowly. Creatively."

"I will grind their souls into dust for daring to look at you."

He leans in—forehead to yours. His voice is a whisper made of fire.

"You belong to me, Tobirama. You always did. And now, you’ll stay. At my side. In my hands. In my world. Forever."

A pause. A final, terrible promise.

"If I have to shatter the bones of heaven to keep you, I will. There is no god above me. There is only us.”