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There was no imminent threat of war and death despite his paranoia, he knew that, so why the hall was he now huddled in an empty storage room struggling to fucking breathe -. Tobirama sucked in great, gasping breaths, trying to get air into his lungs, but it felt like a futile attempt. It was like there was a vice wrapping around the organs in his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter, and any attempts at telling himself that he was being ridiculous, having a panic attack over nothing, that he was perfectly alright - Nothing was working.

He was far from alright. Until there suddenly, was something. Old and dark, dark in a way that should be completely, utterly terrifying because nothing that dark could be good, but-. It drowned out everything. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear away tears and see through the darkness, only a thin stripe of light from the half-closed doorway trying to illuminate the closet.

There was a voice - a familiar voice, calling his name, and Tobirama reached out blindly with both hands and grasped something soft - material. Tobirama sucked in another deep breath and clenched his eyes shut, biting back a sob. Fucking hell - of all people to come across him, it just had to be Madara Bloody Uchiha. And he was - trying to calm him. Comfort him. Slowly, Tobirama was coming back to himself.

He was able to start actually thinking. It may have been a few days since Tobirama last saw Madara, but that was nowhere near enough time for anything about him to change so drastically. Madara had always felt… rough.

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Sharp and prickly, dangerous and dark and powerful yes, but… nowhere near anything like this. An acknowledgement of his presence. That snapped him out of the last dredges of panic that clung to his mind. Tobirama abruptly scowled and shoved at Madara. Never mind that it was hard to keep steady, that his legs trembled beneath his weight. It hurt to speak. He squinted at Madara in the dark, unsure of where to look, years of avoiding looking another in the eyes useless in this situation.

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Tobirama glared, knowing the action was useless with the lack of light but doing it anyway. Madara hated him. That was always clear as day, and Tobirama made no effort to hide that he felt the same. They kept their squabbles under the table so as to not worry Hashirama, a mutual decision on their part, but there was no love lost between them. So why, then, was Madara here? And why did he feel… different? Any accusations that wanted to escape his tongue, he held back.

Still Madara, but different. What are you doing here, Madara? He shrugged? I had thought the meeting would be over quickly and that I would be able to get some work done, but then I find you. Hiding in a closet. Tobirama grit his teeth, hot anger scorching through him, and he opened his mouth, a scathing retort on his tongue, but Madara continued.

There was a soft snort. Will go to your home.

And rest. I will stay here and do my job. You are not the only one Hashirama instated as his advisor. The Senju swallowed, taken aback.

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Amaranthine Chapter 1: Deja Vu, a ghost hunt fanfic | FanFiction

Yes, Hashirama looked to the both of them for help and support, but for a long while now Madara had been…. There was a sigh. It was said with spite, like it usually was, but at the same time it felt… wrong. Almost half-hearted. Usually, Tobirama would have raised to the bait and sniped back. But this entire situation was just… too odd. He heard the Uchiha shift again, and then heard another sigh. Stop using your chakra, go home, and rest. He turned on his heel and threw open the closet door, bathing the small closet with light. Tobirama hissed and threw a hand over his eyes, the light causing pain to spike through his brain.

Madara was just a shapeless dark mass before him, but Tobirama could feel him still, in that comforting, overpowering way. But know now that things are changing, Tobirama.


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For Hashirama. For now… please. Let me deal with things for now. And then he was gone, his presence pulling away and leaving Tobirama aching and feeling cold in the aftermath. He sucked in a breath and scrubbed his hand down his face, his mind reeling, his body aching and exhausted, and all he could do for a moment was lean against the closet wall and try to compose himself. To be helped out of a spiral by Madara Uchiha, of all things.


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  8. A Madara that somehow felt different. A Madara who acted civil, maybe even kind. The experience of reading these books was deeply dualistic, and is designed as such. The Victorian atmosphere of the story is contrasted with a clean, modern design, simplistic in its grace. The horror of the events described are paired with the exquisite sensation of high-quality paper.

    The for its time period violent quality of the writing style is paired and contrasted with the sleek minimalism of the design. Amaranthine wishes not only to emphasize the reading experience but to elevate it.

    The design team even left tiny Easter eggs all over the books, in little nooks and crannies, for the reader to find and to ignite their delight. Stevenson wrote this book in a matter of days, bedridden with a cold, and contentiously under the influence of cocaine. The story is well-known; drinking a potion of his own making, Dr. Jeykll unleashes his inner darkness, personified in Mister Hyde, and the story escalates from there.

    The book was published in and was an instant success.


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    5. More than a century later, it still manages to inspire whole generations of writers, artists, and thinkers. And today it inspired designers of Amaranthine Books to make this extraordinary special edition. They unleashed their inner talents and made a book they would love to show off on their own personal bookshelves.

      These books are a passion project and a product of love. I felt it in my senses.