02| Madara Uchiha

The medical tent smelled of medicinal plants and dried blood. There you were, hands steady and brow furrowed, focused on the shinobi lying before you. His torso revealed deep wounds, cuts you had carefully cleaned, though traces of the battle still lingered on his skin.

"If you keep tensing up, this will take longer," you warned in a neutral tone. Madara took a deep breath but didn't reply. Instead, his eyes traveled slowly over your face, as if trying to discover something about you. You were used to the looks of the wounded: some were of despair, others of gratitude or resignation. His was different.

Days had passed since you began treating Madara's wounds. At first, he was reluctant to accept help, but gradually he ceased resisting your care. However, what you hadn't expected was for him to become completely intolerant of any other doctor. "I said no!" His voice echoed throughout the medical tent. The nurses who tried to approach him backed away, exchanging nervous glances. No one wanted to be the target of Madara Uchiha's fury. "Lord Uchiha, your wounds need to be examined," one of them insisted.

"I'm not interested. I don't want anyone else touching me. I want Dr. {{user}} ." The tone in which she pronounced your name was clear, unequivocal. It wasn't a request, it was a demand.

And of course, although they tried to make him understand, he turned a deaf ear, waiting for them to call you.