a-damson-in-distress

[a-damson-in-distress]

Hi, hope you're doing well ❤️ I was wondering if you're going to update the protégé?

It’s updated, if you’re still around, go and check it out. Hope you like it and let me know in some way. :) 

[a-damson-in-distress]

Hello! Is protégé abandoned?

Well this is awkward, I have no idea when your question was posted as I've been away I think for the better part of almost 2 years, I think? Has it been a few months, years? Do you maybe have grandchildren by now? Are you even still on Tumblr? Anyway, I just now updated Protégé, soooo.... go ahead and read it, maybe? If you still want? I'm always eager to know what my readers think so should you really still be around, be sure to leave a comment, or a smoke signal or anything.

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 6

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

The Protégé 1 | The Protégé 2 | The Protégé 3 | The Protégé 4 | The Protégé 5

Note: I’m back and it’s been so long I completely forgot how all of this works. Enjoy, leave a comment, you know the drill. Buh-bye.

________________________________________________________________

Madara stared at his phone with a look of utter disgust.

He knew that number. He loathed that number.

The person on the other end of this call was like a piece of gum he accidentally stepped on when he was a kid and never could scrape off the sole of his shoe. Take the feeling of coarse sand getting on the inside of your swimwear and rubbing you in all the wrong places combined with that feeling of revulsion whenever you have to get that slimy clump of hair out of your shower drain and multiply that by a thousand – that was exactly what Madara felt every time he called.

Resigning himself to his fate, he moved his thumb to the accept call button while suspiciously eying the caller ID – it read DUMBASS in capital letters, though if it were up to the caller himself, he probably would have saved his number under BFFS 4EVA.

Madara’s thumb pressed down on the green icon and he immediately had to hold his phone away when he was met with ear-piercing laughter.

“Madara, old chap, how are you, how are things with the orchestra, are you still torturing your little musicians? You know what, I don’t care, what are you doing this Friday?”

Madara couldn’t supress the groan escaping from this throat. Still having this individual in his life was his own fault, really. After all, there were more than enough warning signs. You simply do not start a friendship with Hashirama Senju, when one of the first things he did after meeting you was convincing your teenage ass to piss into a river together.

________________________________________________________________

Sakura chose a simple white dress and ballet flats this time. Nothing eye-catching but still very much her style. She made a point of choosing outfits she felt comfortable in, so she didn’t exude the same self-consciousness she did at the after party two days ago. The fact that wrong wardrobe choices clearly made her maestro angry may have also played a role.

Although Sakura had to admit, having him touch her so intimately while getting her appearance in order was worth the disappointment she initially felt when she realised that he was angry with her. She may be naïve and sexually inexperienced, but even she knew that conductors spanking their musicians was not common practice. Tucking in her blouse so her dishevelled look wouldn’t tarnish the good name of his orchestra was one thing; she even saw him yank on Naruto’s loose tie once before a very important interview, so when he started arranging her clothes there wasn’t anything sexual about it at first.

But the feel of his big hands as they traced the back of her thighs, inching closer to her behind where he would eventually deliver a sound slap on her left cheek was something completely different.

That was two days ago, and Sakura still didn’t know what to think or how to feel about it. When Mr Uchiha returned to the after party a little after her and pretended like nothing happened between them, she took that as her cue to do the same. The only reminder was when Ino and Temari asked her about her sudden outfit change.

I guess now I finally know what Maestro Uchiha is like when he invokes rule number 2.

Her vague answer referring to the second item on his long list of obligations laid out in her contract seemed to have been explanation enough. After all, given their strict dress code, wardrobe changes were demanded often enough so as not to raise any eyebrows when it finally happened to Sakura too.

She learned her lesson, that’s why she was waiting for their next rehearsal to start wearing one of her favourite and most inconspicuous dresses. They were in Shanghai at the moment for their second China concert which would take place in two days’ time.

They’ve nailed all of their rehearsals so far, practiced for hours on end, and were at the top of their game. Their maestro couldn’t be any prouder, at least that’s what Sakura thought, until she saw him enter the stage with a frown so deep, you’d need scuba gear to dive down.

“Change of plans everyone, you’re not getting Friday off, after all. We’re playing in Shanghai two days in a row, and we’re changing the programme for Thursday. We’re ditching Holst and starting with Mozetich, take out your sheet music for Fantasia. Cellists, all eyes on Ms Haruno while she takes the lead. I need the accompaniment tenuto throughout the entire piece, you cannot be drowned out by the violins’ legato. Chop chop, everyone.”

While everyone scrambled to get their things ready, Sakura couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. Maestro Uchiha was always strict and demanding, but he seemed to be in an especially sour mood today. Not to mention that changing the entire programme of an upcoming concert two days before was not something Madara Uchiha did. He was so meticulous and orderly, he’d probably be annoyed if raindrops suddenly started falling at a different angle. Not wanting to incur his wrath again so shortly after earning her first reprimand, she kept her head down and tried her best to meet his expectations during the rehearsal.

A feat which proved to be more difficult than she initially thought. Maestro Uchiha was annoyed by the slightest things, reprimanded his musicians for the tiniest slip-ups, and gripped his baton so tightly at times, his knuckles turned white.

Once their most exhausting rehearsal so far was over, everyone was quick to pack their things and leave, when Maestro Uchiha said, “I need a word with all the principals, the rest are free to go.”

Ino and Naruto quickly caught Sakura’s gaze, both of them shooting her questioning looks. Sakura just shrugged, equally confused. They gathered together with the rest of the principal musicians and stood in front of their maestro’s podium.

“Due to unforeseen and incredibly annoying circumstances, I decided to change the programme for our Thursday concert. As you may have noticed, the seven pieces we’re performing will heavily feature one of the principal musicians. We start off with Mozetich, which focuses on Ms Haruno as the principal cellist. Our next piece by Copland is your chance to shine as principal clarinet, Ms Yamanaka. Arutiunian will put the spotlight on our principal trumpet, and so on. In other words, we’re pulling out the big guns for this one, so I cannot stress this enough: I need all of my principals to bring their A game. I know you do that for every concert anyway, but this… is different. Let’s just say, I need to prove a point, so do not let me down.”

While the other musicians gathered their things to leave, Sakura watched him put on his suit jacket out of the corner of her eye. Before leaving the stage, the conductor shot her a look and quietly said, “Ms Haruno, my room in an hour.” Sakura barely managed the obligatory Yes, Maestro, too caught up in her own thoughts running rampant in her mind about what he might be needing from her at 8 pm in the evening, in his hotel room, in private.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Ino whispered with an eye roll while packing up her instrument.

Sakura’s jaw dropped in shock and she fixed the blonde with angry glare, “Oh my God, Ino, you can’t talk like that, he’s our conductor!”

“Oh relax, you fan girl. Even you have to admit he was exceptionally prickly today. Like pluck-that-string-wrong-and-I’ll-pluck-out-your-eyebrows type of prickly. And the bar for that is already incredibly high, because Madara Uchiha was basically born prickly.”

Sakura could hear Naruto snicker behind them as the trio went down the stairs on the left of the stage, making Ino groan in annoyance.

“Men and their weird sense of humour. You’re imagining him as a cactus now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but like, how can he conduct with his tiny cactus arms?”

________________________________________________________________

Madara knew he was being insufferable. He never was particularly liked by his musicians – respected, yes, but liked on a personal level, not really – but during the last two rehearsals he did his utmost to qualify for the Condescending Jerk of the Year Award. Even little Ms Haruno was starting to sweat halfway through his symphony of exasperated grunts and annoyed eye-rolls.

If only he hadn’t picked up that damned phone two days ago, none of this would be happening. He could have stuck to his original concert programme, enjoyed one or two relaxed rehearsals, and wouldn’t be pacing up and down his hotel suite racking his brain over his request.

He may as well have asked Madara to chain her to a rock to be devoured by a sea monster, and Madara would still think Sakura’s fate worse than Andromeda’s.

A soft knock interrupted his train of thought, and he went to open the door for his late-night guest. When his intense gaze landed on his little protégé and her doe-like eyes, he couldn’t help but ask himself – what was his role in all of this? Could he be the Perseus to her Andromeda?

Or would Cretus once again rise from the depths of the sea and plunge her into darkness?

“You asked to see me, Mr Uchiha?”

Madara wordlessly stepped aside and closed the door behind her. He took a moment to run an appreciative gaze over her slender figure and noted with satisfaction that she was once again wearing clothes she was clearly much more comfortable in. His gaze was drawn to her short pleated skirt as it swirled around her legs when she turned to face him. There was a soft, pastel pink cashmere sweater tucked into the waistband that was a size too large for her, as it was currently in the process of slipping off her left shoulder.

Madara had seen and done a lot of erotic things in his 39 years on this earth but watching something as trivial as a piece of garment expose her neck and shoulder had his dick twitch in anticipation like no porn ever could.

Thank fuck he had an actual reason to invite her into his hotel room this late at night or otherwise he would already have her face down, ass up.

“It’s about our concert on Thursday. The reason I had to change it… was you.”

Her eyes widened even more as she immediately started playing with the hem of her skirt. “Me? W-why? Did I do something wrong? I’ll do better, Mr Uchiha, I swear!”

“Relax, you did nothing wrong. You’re perfect,” he stepped closer to sweep her hair behind her ear, “like always. I had to change the programme, because I got a call from someone who is going to watch us perform on Thursday, and I simply needed to make sure that he’s… well, rendered speechless would be the ideal scenario, really.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“Because that particular individual happens to be a renowned music journalist and critic, and he will be writing a lengthy review of our first Shanghai concert, including an extensive interview with you.”

Madara’s gaze landed on her full lips as they moved to form a surprised little o, and to make things worse, his little protégé had the gall to go ahead and lick them.

“I’ve never given an interview, Mr Uchiha. A-and to be honest, I’m not sure if I’m up for it. I don’t need all that attention and all the probing questions. What if I say something stupid? I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Madara had to supress a smirk at her words. The interview was supposed to be all about her, and yet she was afraid of embarrassing him. It was like this little girl was born with the sole purpose of pleasing him.

“I assure you there is nothing you could do to embarrass me.”

“Not true, what about the last after party, when I wore something you didn’t approve of?”

“You’re right, but I made you regret that choice instantly, did I not?” A blush crept up her cheeks as Madara took a step closer, “I disciplined you,” he raised his hand to her face while enjoying the nervous breath escaping her lips, “you took your punishment,” he grabbed the back of her neck and twisted his fingers in her hair, “and you promised to never do it again,” Madara tugged on her hair, forcing her head back and staring down at her, their lips only centimetres apart, “like the good little girl you are.”

He allowed himself one more moment to drink in the sight of her innocent blush and her adoring wide eyes, before he let go off her hair and leaned on the desk on the opposite of his bed.

“The individual you will have the displeasure of meeting has, well… to say he holds a grudge against me would be the understatement of the century. He will do anything in his power to try to get under my skin, and the fact that I noticed you did not go unnoticed by him, so I’m sure he’s hoping to use that to his advantage.”

“So you’re saying the only reason he wants to interview me is to spite you and not because he’s really interested in me as a musician?”

“No, sweetheart,” Madara put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them as a show of encouragement, “one would have to be blind and deaf not to notice your musical gift. As much as I hate his guts, he does have an eye for talent, I have to give him that. If I weren’t your maestro, he’d still want to interview you, it’s just this way he gets to kill two birds with one stone.”

Madara watched his little protégé pull her bottom lip between her teeth, and his dick immediately sprung to attention. Brushing his fingers over her shoulders clearly did little to calm her down. If he didn’t already think she was nervous about the interview, she gave it away the instant she started playing with the end of his tie.

“I’m too shy to give such a high-profile interview, I really wouldn’t know what to say. And I really don’t want to embarrass you, Mr Uchiha, so um… Can you… can you, maybe, I don’t know,” Madara watched with utter fascination as she twisted the end of his tie around her index finger, “can you teach me?”

The question came out as a shy whisper, but their faces were close enough for him to hear it.

“Teach you what, little girl? You’ll have to be more specific, because I can teach you a lot of things.”

Madara watched her suck in a breath at his little innuendo. He knew he was pushing his luck, everything about their proximity and the way he was talking to her was wrong and if she weren’t such a lovesick puppy, she would have reported his inappropriate behaviour ages ago. But he couldn’t help himself around her. For the first time in the nearly four decades he had spent on earth so far, he was falling victim to the danger and allure of the forbidden.

His hazy mind barely registered when his protégé opened her mouth. “Well, um… You know, things like…”

A shaky breath. A tongue sweeping out to wet her lips.

“What-… what to say and what not to say, or… or things like…” hesitant eyes travelled up to meet his own.

“Body language.”

Fuck.

Madara had a thing or two to say about body language, alright, their own body language at this very moment, to be precise. Sakura was still standing between his legs, nervously playing with his tie, much like she did a few days ago when he was fixing her outfit. It was moments like these when a part of him questioned whether or not she really didn’t know what effect she had on men like him with a behaviour like that. Her innocence was believable and authentic enough to land her a part in Sesame Street, but then she had to go ahead and whisper body language like that – what was a man to think?

“Body language, huh? Alright, let’s start with the most important lesson on body language. For an interview, you want to seem approachable, but not too much. You can use your body to create a necessary distance, to signal the other person certain parts of you are off-limits. One way to do that is to make sure you don’t show too much skin, an unwilling openness a reporter is only too eager to exploit.”

Madara’s right hand left her shoulder and made its way down her arm to grab the low hanging neckline of her sweater, slowly dragging it up while making sure to brush as much of her soft skin with his fingers.

“Wearing a sweater that constantly slips off your shoulder is not the way to do it, little one. What did we say about dishevelled outfits?” Madara fixed her with a stern gaze.

“Not to wear them, and I know I’m going to wear something more professional for the interview, but I didn’t think that you would mind me wearing the sweater now. I thought you would like it,” Madara heard her voice become quieter and more unsure toward the end, much like it always did when she was asking for his opinion.

The only logical thing for him to do as her maestro was take away that uncertainty, the only way he knew how.

“Oh, I’m afraid I like it too much, princess. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your effort to dress comfortably and appropriately the last few days. I’m very happy my lesson stuck.”

Madara took her chin between his fingers and raised her face. “Good girl.”

When he saw the telltale smile and blush spread across her face, Madara knew it was worth playing with fire.

Now to pour some gasoline on it.

“Say thank you, Sir,” he commanded in his gruffest dom voice.

Naturally, his little sub immediately obliged.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Her whispering was going to be the death of him. Madara released his protégé and went straight for the bar at the other end of the room in order to gain some distance. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact he was sporting a raging hard-on for a 20-year-old she was not supposed to see.

“Of course, Deidara will be in charge of most of the media mumbo-jumbo, he’ll also get a say in your outfit, but if it were up to me, I’d button you up to your nose, maybe even send you to the interview in a straitjacket.”

Madara drowned the shot of whiskey as if it had the magical ability to calm his libido, which of course it didn’t, especially when he heard Sakura’s melodious laughter behind him.

“But Sir, you can’t put me in a straitjacket. You said yourself, this reporter is a renowned music journalist, and you only want to present yourself and the orchestra in the best possible light. I admit, a baggy sweater would not have been my go-to look, but a straitjacket doesn’t really scream take me seriously either.”

“I don’t know, I quite like the idea of a straitjacket. At the very least, we can put him in it, so he won’t be tempted to touch you.”

Madara had meant it as a light-hearted joke, but he immediately regretted his choice of words when he saw her playful smile crumble.

“Why-why do you say that? Is he known to… touch women? You wouldn’t put me in the same room as someone like that, would you, Sir?”

He bridged the distance between them in three quick steps and immediately grasped her face between his hands to rub soothing circles on her cheeks. Madara hated the whole idea of the interview, but that was no reason to rile her up. Kicking a puppy probably couldn’t feel worse than being the one who put worries and doubts in her head.

“Never, little one. I would wring anybody’s neck who so much as looked at you wrong, I would never put you in any danger, trust me. I’m sorry for my poor choice of words, I absolutely didn’t mean them in that way. As much as I hate… that person, he is nothing but an absolute gentleman, and I can assure you he has tremendous respect for you. You’re going to be wonderful at the interview, I know it. You could just sit there doing nothing and he would sing your praises.”

“I believe you. But then what did you mean with that part about him touching me?”

Madara contemplated a few short seconds what to answer to that question. Of course, the simple truth was he was just being a dumb, territorial gorilla, but he would rather do shots out of Naruto’s belly button than allow Sakura to think of him in a simian fashion.

“Let’s just say, I know him from my childhood, and he always revelled in stealing my toys. And I told you when I signed you on, I tend to be rather possessive of my musicians.”

That seemed to have been the right answer, judging by the grin tugging on her pretty little lips. Before Madara could say anything that would dig himself deeper into the hole he called sexual frustration, he grasped Sakura’s arm and gently turned her toward the door.

“I’m sure I’ve given you a lot to think about. Take the rest of the evening to think things through about the interview, maybe think of questions that are off-limits, so we can make sure there won’t be any unpleasantness. Tomorrow, we’ll get together with Deidara and his PR team, he’ll straighten out the rest.”

As he was about to open the door to usher her outside, she turned around one last time, her skirt enticingly flowing around her slender legs. “What about the tips you were going to give me? You know… the training?”

“Miss Haruno, if I were to teach you everything I know, you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.”

________________________________________________________________

“You’ll want to avoid words like never and always, or any kind of absolute statement for that matter. You a Star Wars fan? Never mind, there’s this character who wisely said that only a Sith deals in absolutes. Siths are the bad guys in Star Wars, FYI. So instead of saying ‘Maestro Uchiha is always rude to us during rehearsals’, you want to say things like ‘We are eternally grateful for his constructive feedback and his willingness to help us improve our craft’, see the difference? Another thing they like to do is talk about your fears, vulnerabilities, weaknesses, yadda yadda yadda. The best way to answer these questions is like you would answer them during a job interview. So don’t bullshit around with some made-up weakness, that is actually a strength like ‘I am very focused on details and therefore sometimes need longer for an assignment’. Journalists can smell bullshit a mile away, and this particular one is like a genetically enhanced bloodhound. What you want to do instead is be honest, but not too honest. You’re not going to come out and say you have a crippling porn addiction. Choose something that seems like a genuine weakness, but nothing too major that would inhibit your performance. And most importantly, follow it up with a statement underlining how you’re already working on bettering yourself. A good example would be ‘Sometimes I am too direct with my feedback and criticism and my colleagues may take it the wrong way, but I’ve already learned to word it in more neutral terms, so nobody gets offended’. Are you writing any of this down?”

Sakura could feel herself shrinking under Deidara’s disapproving gaze. Quickly grabbing the pen she brought along to her tutoring session, she continued writing down the tips he was giving her in preparation for her interview.

“Next, questions about your private life. We are not politicians, so don’t even pretend to be one with those ‘I can neither confirm nor deny it’ answers. You should give him some sort of answer, otherwise you’ll seem unapproachable, but you can control how many details you want to give…”

Sakura droned out the publicist’s voice while staring absentmindedly at the presentation slides. In her mind, she knew what the words really meant, but in her subconscious, they re-arranged themselves to form an entirely different sentence.

If I were to teach you everything I know, you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

That could mean anything, right? It could take him all night to teach her all about whiskey for instance, or the difference between a two-stroke engine and a cylinder. If they were to talk about music, that may have taken them several nights in fact, not just one, because he was a bottomless well of knowledge when it came to that.

But it couldn’t mean…that.

Sakura was chewing on the other end of her pencil while still pretending to be enthralled by whatever Deidara was saying. The fact of the matter was, Sakura was his protégé. Their professional relationship was bound to take a different turn compared to the way he handles all his other musicians. Mister Uchiha said so himself, it was his duty to train her, to mould her to be the best possible version of herself. He couldn’t do that if he wasn’t allowed to give her a little bit of extra attention every now and then. And she never had an official mentor in that capacity before, Tsunade certainly never called Sakura her protégé. What’s more, she was embarrassingly inexperienced when it came to physical intimacy with the opposite sex. The line between appropriate touches and those that bordered on intimate seem to be drawn differently for every person, at least if her friends’ stories were to be believed, and it couldn’t be more confusing to her to try to understand when that line has been crossed if you explained it to her in Latin.

Sakura shook her head and tried to re-focus her attention on Deidara’s media training, but it was to no avail. In her mind, she kept replaying last night’s visit to her maestro’s hotel room and how he comforted her by stroking her cheek, or how he teased her by slowly dragging up her sweater up her shoulder.

Sakura had no idea what they meant, but she knew one thing: Lying was a cardinal sin, and she would end up in the deepest pits of hell if she were to ever tell anyone she didn’t enjoy Mister Uchiha’s touches.

It was time to cash in on her friendship with the promiscuous principal clarinet.

________________________________________________________________

“I’m confused, why are you asking me all these questions? Sakura, did someone touch you inappropriately? If so, that’s a major offense and we need to report it ASAP.”

Sakura felt her panic rise as Ino stared her down with a worried look in her eyes. This was not the direction she planned this conversation to take. She knew she was a klutz when it came to talking about physical intimacy, but this was awkward even by her standards.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m fine. It’s just, that… I saw two people from the stage crew, they looked cosy with each other, and I was just wondering, you know, if that means they… like each other, or anything…”

The blonde musician breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew, for a moment there I thought I was going to have to pull out a doll and ask you where you’ve been touched. But seriously, jokes aside, if anybody makes you feel uncomfortable, in any way, it doesn’t even have to be physical, you let me know, or any of your other friends. Or better yet, tell Mr Uchiha.”

Threats of wringing people’s necks suddenly popped into Sakura’s head. Telling Mr Uchiha anybody made her feel uncomfortable, even in the slightest, was a battery charge waiting to happen.

“Thanks for the tip. But seriously, what does it mean if a man puts his hands on a woman’s shoulders? It seemed…comforting. But I basically have zero experience with that kind of stuff. Naruto is always teasing me that guys could have I’m sexually attracted to you tattooed on their forehead and I wouldn’t get that they’re flirting with me.”

“It could mean anything. Couples touch each other on their shoulders, much like friends do. Even colleagues, who have no relationship outside of work, might comfort each other like that if someone has a rough day. It depends on the person who’s doing the touching. With Naruto, for instance, it doesn’t mean much, because he’s insanely physically affectionate. He hugged you the day he met you, and he regularly shows his affection with small physical gestures. Doesn’t mean he’s attracted to you. Shikamaru for instance was different. He was your predecessor. He was always too lazy to make new friends or even show his appreciation for the ones he already had, so in the rare instances he would hug or comfort someone, it really meant a lot. Does that help?”

Nope.

Sakura had no idea what the normal scope of Mr Uchiha’s physical affection was. Sure, he was always meticulously professional during rehearsals and public appearances, but it wasn’t like Sakura had the means to ask his friends how he behaved in private. And she couldn’t very well ask Ino what it meant if a conductor touches his protégé’s cheek or pulls up her sweater.

It could really just be harmless comforting of an inexperienced and nervous musician. Sakura was, after all, his protégé, she was already treated as the orchestra’s most recognisable poster child, she was about to give her first major interview. Mr Uchiha was just covering all of his bases and making sure she was representing him to the best of her abilities.

Yeah, that had to be it. The more Sakura thought about it, the sillier she felt for even entertaining the thought there could be more behind her maestro’s touches than the simple comfort and guidance a mentor feels obligated to give his students when he sees them struggling. Mr Uchiha was, after all, so very much out of her league and she would have to mature at the speed of light to catch up with the women he was probably interested in.

Sakura couldn’t supress the laugh that escaped her lips at the thought as she put her arm around her friend. “You’re right, Ino. I’m hugging you now, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to start developing romantic feelings for you.”

The blonde just shot her a seductive grin. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

________________________________________________________________

 They were brilliant.

Of course, they were always brilliant. It was his orchestra, after all. But Madara had to hand it to his musicians: Tonight, they were magnificent.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything akin to nervousness before a concert, but tonight’s special guest set his teeth on edge. Everything had to be absolutely perfect, or he would have never heard the end of it in his next article.

Strutting proudly around the backstage area and congratulating his ensemble for a performance well done, he was headed straight towards his dressing room, where the highly unwelcome intruder was waiting for him. Only when he opened the door, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Madara, there you are.” Hearing his supposedly best friend’s voice was always a sensation similar to nails scraping on a chalk board. Madara never missed a chance to remind him of that fact, too.

“Hashirama, you know I hate it when you yell like-“

“I know, I know, don’t get your conductor’s panties in a bunch. Pretty sure the interview’s already started, so I’m sure you’re free now. Let’s go grab a drink to toast tonight’s concert, you guys really were amazing. Come on.”

Madara’s arm reached out to grab the man’s shoulders, digging his fingers uncomfortably into his skin. “What do you mean, the interview’s already started? He said he made an appointment for tomorrow.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw him enter her dressing room just a moment ago. You know how he is, he likes to catch his prey off guard. But don’t worry, I’m sure your PR team briefed her and everything, she’ll do fine. And if not, it’ll be a baptism by fire. Better learn from the tough ones, he’ll raise the bar so high, she’ll never complain about another interview partner again.”

Madara was sure if he could grind his teeth any harder, they would splinter into a million tiny pieces. The thought of Sakura alone with him, completely caught off guard, goaded into talking about things she wasn’t prepared for made his hair stand on end.

He quickly navigated the maze of dressing rooms until he found the door with her name on it. Madara could already hear their voices seeping through, and to his surprise he even heard Sakura’s telltale giggle.

Not bothering to knock, he swung the door open and found his protégé with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other trying to hide the grin on her face, which was clearly reserved for the man in front of her.

When Sakura saw him enter, her playful expression changed into a surprised one when she happily exclaimed, “Mr Uchiha, look, I got flowers! I don’t mind giving interviews if they all start off with such a nice gesture.”

She shot her interview partner a grateful look, which only made Madara’s insides boil.

“Trust me, Miss Haruno, flowers are a special gesture reserved for buttering up only my most interesting interview partners.”

Great, he flirts now, too.

Just as he was rolling his eyes in annoyance, the man in question turned to finally face him with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Long time no see, Madara.”

Madara puffed up his chest and let out a disapproving grunt as he eyed his worst nemesis.

“Tobirama.”

[a-damson-in-distress]

HISTORY OF HALLOWEEN: 

HALLOWEEN is among the oldest traditions in the world as it touches on an essential element of the human condition: the relationship between the living and the dead. Every recorded civilization has created some form of ritual observance focused on what happens to people when they die, where they go, and how the living should best honor those who have passed or respond to the dead who seem unwilling or unable to move on.

Countries around the world today celebrate Halloween in one form or another, from Mexico’s Day of the Dead to China’s Tomb Sweeping Day. The modern-day observance of Halloween in countries such as the United States and Canada – where this tradition is most popular – share in this ancient tradition even though some aspects of the holiday are relatively recent developments, and can be traced back to the Celtic festival of Samhain.

Read More 

[a-damson-in-distress]

Head of Athena

Ancient Rome, early 1st century.

The monumental head of Athena is a high-quality copy of the head of the goddess, the statue of which was executed in bronze, probably by Cresilas, in the 430s-420s BC.

It was found near Rome in 1764 and delighted the German historian of ancient art Johann Joachim Winckelmann, who considered it 'The most perfect beauty of any treasure found below ground'.

The Greek sculptor Cresilas created a new image of the goddess of wisdom and war, by emphasizing her intellectual power instead of her qualities as a stern warrioress and mighty protectress of Athens. The clarity of the regular facial features and the lips slightly opened in a smile lend a lyrical intellectuality to the appearance of the deity.

(State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg.)

[a-damson-in-distress]

THE Seven Ancient Wonders of the World were known in Greek as Themata or ‘things to be seen’ which is now referred to as ‘must see’ sites. Watch our new video to learn more about the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World!  

[a-damson-in-distress]

Important New Discoveries from Greece’s Ancient Antikythera Shipwreck

Greece’s Ministry of Culture issued a statement on Friday informing the public about the new discoveries made recently at the wreck site which once yielded the “Antikythera mechanism” off the island of Antikythera, south of the Peloponnesian peninsula.

The statement noted that ”bones were collected, which now need to be analyzed, (as well as) olive kernels, and bronze nails from the ship as well as a bronze ring, whose use remains unknown.”

Among the findings which were discovered were sections of the bodies of ancient amphorae, as well as the bases and the necks from the main bodies of the vases.

The types of amphorae are identified as those which were typically used on the island of Kos and in Southern Italy in ancient times. Read more.

[a-damson-in-distress]

Viking runes on an ancient Greek statue,

The Piraeus Lion is a marble statue around 3 meters (9 feet) tall which was carved around 360 BC and had adorned Athens harbor for over 1800 years. In 1687 Greece was a part of the Ottoman Empire and the Republic of Venice was at war the empire when they laid siege to and eventually sacked the city. The Venetians looted Athens of it’s wealth, carting of many treasures and historical antiquities including the Piraeus lion. The Venetians noticed that there was a strange writing along the shoulder and flank of the lion, however no one remembered what the language was, what it said, or who put it there. The lion was carted off to Venice and put on display at the Venetian Arsenal, where it sits to this day.

The origins of the writing remained a mystery until the lion was visited by a Swedish diplomat named Johann David Akerblad, who identified them as Nordic runes at the end of the 18th century. Since then numerous scholars have viewed and attempted to translate the runes. This task is greatly complicated by the fact that the runes are heavily eroded, with many completely illegible. The most widely accepted translation is from Erik Brate in 1914,

The runes are believed to have been carved in the 11th century by the Varangians. The Varangians were a group of Scandinavian Vikings who sold their services as mercenaries to the Eastern Roman Empire, AKA the Byzantine Empire. The Varangians would eventually settle down in what is now Russia and Ukraine.

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 5

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

The Protégé 1 | The Protégé 2 |  The Protégé 3 |  The Protégé 4

Note: I don't even know what to say at this point, I mean I'm such an unreliable fanfic writer that you guys have probably forgotten this here thing even exists but ANYWHORE the saga continues. As with every chapter so far, here's the song recommendation for the Beijing concert, the one with the jazz theme and Mei's vocals: Hooverphonic - 2 Wicky (Live at Koningin Elisabethzaal 2012) as well as Hooverphonic - Mad About You (also the live version). 

I suggest you listen to the entire concert and all the songs, because the band is just great, though not all of their songs have that slow, seductive James-Bond-like sound I was imagining for that particular concert. Some of them are more happy-go-lucky pop songs, so Madara wouldn't have picked them for the concert. But just imagine that the entire programme would have consisted of songs like 2 Wicky and Mad About You. I chose the songs based on the singer mentioned in this chapter, because I think that's the type of music that would best fit an alluring and seductive woman like Mei Terumi.

Anyway, have fun reading and please let me know what you think! I'm dying to get some feedback, because things are finally kicking off in this chapter and it was so much fun to write and I'm really looking forward to your opinion.

                                                        ---------- 

Sakura Haruno stunned Tokyo with her first solo performance in Maestro Uchiha’s ensemble with the grace and elegance of a musician far more experienced than what can usually be expected of a twenty-year old. Demonstrating her mastery of the cello with Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto number 1 in A minor, the young Ms Haruno proved once again that she was worthy of her nickname. Imperatrix Furiosa is what the press are calling her, though the talented cellist seems to be only channelling that alter ego on stage. At the afterparty, Ms Haruno was less a furious empress and more a down-to-earth, if not timid, girl-next-door type, prompting criticism by some that Maestro Uchiha signed her on at too young an age and that the shy cellist may have bitten off more than she can chew with her world-famous globetrotting new conductor (Madara Uchiha pictured here with Sakura Haruno during the afterparty at the Sky Lounge Stellar Garden Bar).

Sakura’s eyes travelled from the article to the photo right next to it, depicting her maestro and herself. While Mr Uchiha was his usual suave self in a black-lined burgundy-coloured velvet suit jacket and his signature barely-there-but-still-somehow-visible smirk, Sakura stuck out like a sore thumb. Not only because of her hair colour and her height – she was sure Mr Uchiha would dwarf her even if she wore Ino’s tallest high heels. It was this whole timid and immature little girl vibe she was giving off with her floral collar dress, her pastel pink ballet flats and her shy and unsure smile.

Having read the review of their Tokyo concert, Sakura was now worried whether or not the critics were right. Was she really too young to join such a prestigious orchestra? Was she too immature and inexperienced to have so much pressure and responsibility thrust upon her as a principal cellist? Despite feeling comfortable and self-assured during a concert, there were moments where she did feel somewhat out of place amidst her older and more experienced colleagues. Like during that afterparty two days ago, where everyone showed up all dressed up and fancy and confidently rubbing elbows with Tokyo’s music high society, while Sakura felt like a farm girl who wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between a Virgin Mary and a Bloody Mary if it bit her in the ass.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, the young cellist let her gaze wander through the airplane interior. They were currently on a flight to Seoul for their first international concert. Her worried gaze landed on her conductor sitting two rows in front of her to her right, currently busy with adding notes to the sheet music on his tablet.

How she wished she could confide in him now.

Sakura recalled the feeling of euphoria when he had called her his protégé in the dressing room while fixing her bow tie. She never felt so incredibly confident while playing a concert on stage as she did during those 30 minutes following his compliment. Sakura almost couldn’t believe that her maestro had said that to her in the first place, so she decided to ask him about it during the afterparty.

Sakura remembered how nervous she had been the entire evening. The pink-haired cellist thought about a hundred different ways how she could ask Mr Uchiha about his declaration without coming off as the attention-seeking and completely love-sick puppy that she really was. It took her more than an hour to build up the courage to approach him when he was alone at the bar.

“Um… I-I’m sorry, Mr Uchiha? Do you have a second?”

When her conductor turned around, he actually had to look down to meet her gaze. Her maestro really was ridiculously tall. He turned his body to face her, left hand casually in his pocket, right arm leaning on the bar with a drink in hand.

“Yes, Ms Haruno?”

“Um…,” she ran both hands down her dress to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles, “I-I wanted to ask you… something.”

When she dared to lift her gaze to look at him, she was met with a raised eyebrow and an expectant grin.

“Go on, Ms Haruno. I’m not going to bite,” her maestro added with a widening smirk.

Hoping the blush colouring her cheeks at his remark would cool down soon, the pink-haired cellist gathered her courage, cleared her throat and spoke, “Sir, it’s about what you said to me in the dressing room, when you- when you fixed my bow tie? Um, you see I was really nervous, and I wasn’t really thinking straight, I mean I’m never really thinking straight around you,” heat crept up her face again and her eyes widened as she realised what she had just said, “I mean- I didn’t mean… it’s just, you make me… a little nervous, is all. And anyway, I probably wasn’t even hearing right, but for some reason my muddled brain seems to think that I heard you say… that…,” at this point her courage started fading away. Sakura started playing with the hem of her dress while thinking of a way to continue without sounding desperate for his approval.

“Heard me say what, Ms Haruno?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his intense gaze staring at her expectantly.

“I think I heard you say that- that I was your…,” she leaned a bit closer to him and whispered, “protégé.”

And now that the word was finally out in the open, Sakura couldn’t stop herself.

“And I just wanted to ask you if that really was what you said. Because even though every fibre of my being wants it to be true, there’s still a part of me who just wouldn’t believe that you- the Maestro Uchiha would have said that to me of all people. I mean you’ve never publicly acknowledged anyone as your protégé before, and I- I’m so young. You see, I just didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it was just a misunderstanding and I didn’t hear it right. So please just be honest with me. You can tell me if I was wrong, it’ll crush me for a day or two, but I can take it.”

She stared up at him with a look of what she hoped would even remotely resemble determination, though that look started to falter when she was met with her conductor’s amused grin.

“I heard wrong, didn’t I? Ok, well… Sorry for wasting your time, Sir.”

Sakura was just about to turn around, when she felt his warm hands circle around her biceps, holding her in place. She saw his mouth open to say something just as they were interrupted by a photographer asking for a picture of the two of them. After posing for a few seconds and waiting for the photographer to leave, her maestro turned around and finally spoke, “Ms Haruno, that day you were in my office, what did I tell you about the difference between you and all my other musicians?”

“That I was the only one who didn’t have to audition?”

“Correct. I didn’t want the other musicians, I simply needed them to fill my ensemble. But you – you, I wanted. There were hundreds of suitable musicians for every other role in my orchestra, and they all had to audition, but there was only one suitable musician for your particular position. You, Ms Haruno, were the exception from the start.”

“So… does that mean that you really did say what I think you said?”

“Would you like it to be true?”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Good,” Mr Uchiha said before taking a sip of his drink.

And then he said something that made Sakura’s insides tingle with excitement even two days later.

In that case, you’re mine now.

                                                           ----------

“We’re done for today. You’ve all got the rest of the evening off. Do not overdo it, though, I expect all of you to be in top shape for our next rehearsal tomorrow at 10 a.m.”

Madara watched his musicians hastily pack their things and stow away their instruments. He was aware that they were eager to get back to the hotel and relax for a few hours; after all, they landed in Seoul only this morning and already had to endure a four-hour rehearsal. They deserved a break.

Madara, however, wasn’t done yet. And neither was his protégé.

“Ms Haruno.”

He would never tire of the way she immediately sprung to attention whenever he called her name and how she would fix her huge doe-like eyes on him, like a puppy in training expectantly waiting for its master’s orders and determined to use every opportunity to impress him.

“Yes, Maestro?”

“I hope you haven’t got any plans for this evening.”

Madara didn’t want it to come out so suggestive but seeing that adorable blush spread across the young cellist’s cheeks was worth it.

“Um… No, Sir, I- I don’t, actually. W-Why are you asking?”

“I want you to go through your parts again, on your own.”

“Why, Sir? Was I not good enough? I’ll do better, I promise,” she said with a pleading look on her face.

Her dedication to her craft was inspiring. And her constant need to please him was an incredible turn-on.

“Let’s start with Bergersen’s Sun,” Madara ordered while watching the last of his ensemble leave the stage. When he heard a nervous sigh escape her lips, his gaze was immediately drawn back to her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Madara allowed himself to be transfixed by the sight for a few seconds, fully aware that this indulgence would just lead to more wet dreams. Like the one he had last night about her kneeling in front of him and nervously chewing on her bottom lip as he gives her a step-by-step instruction on how to suck his cock.

“Am I doing it right?” she asks after having released him from her mouth with a loud plop. She stares up at him with her big, innocent eyes, desperately needing his approval and his praise.

“Just like that, keep going little one,” he orders while tugging a strand of hair behind her ear and watching her lips close around him again.

“That’s a good girl.”

Madara was torn from his short daydream when he realised the young cellist had stopped playing. His gaze focused on Sakura’s face and he felt his cock immediately stiffen when he saw the expression she was wearing. It was the same as in his dream, right when she asked him if she was doing it right – all innocent and hopeful eyes, silently begging him to praise her.

“Am I doing it right, Maestro?”

Gods damn it, of course she had to go ahead and say the same words, too.

Despite the inappropriate nature of his current train of thought, the reminder of his last wet dream gave the conductor an idea. The Sakura in his dreams would always light up like a Christmas tree and her eyes would sparkle with adoration whenever Madara called her a good girl. And now it was time for the conductor to test how close real-life Sakura was to her dream persona.

He came to a halt directly in front of her and looked into her wide, expectant eyes.

“Good girl.”

The megawatt smile she gave him as a response was enough to prove his theory. Madara would be damned if he didn’t use every opportunity to praise her like that from now on. Much like she seemed to crave his approval and appreciation, Madara, too, found himself enjoying the looks of pure and unadulterated worship and reverence he was met with whenever he deemed her worthy of his attention.

“That was well done, Ms Haruno. Now why couldn’t you deliver the same performance during rehearsal? I had the feeling you were distracted by something.”

He watched her shoulders slump and her face fall as she leaned back into her seat. “I know, Sir. But it’s nothing, really, just… just something silly. I won’t happen again, I promise.”

Madara would murder that something silly if the mere mention of it was enough to dim her smile.

“What’s going on?”

“You don’t need to worry about it, really. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than listen to me whine about my trivial issues.” Sakura tried her best to give him a reassuring smile but judging by the way she was nervously playing with the strings of her cello, that particular issue seemed to really eat away at her.

“Ms Haruno, part of being your mentor also involves making sure you feel confident and good about yourself on a personal level as well, not just on a professional one. If something is bothering you and you don’t deal with it properly, it might turn into a bigger issue someday, which could in turn affect your performance. Now, out with it.”

Sakura looked at him hesitantly, before sighing and opening her mouth, “It’s this review of our first concert that was published in The Japan Times. They said you made a mistake with me, that you signed me on too early and that I’m too young for you and too inexperienced and too shy and that I’m basically just not good enough for you.”

Madara had read the article himself, and he had already thought that his protégé would be bothered by the criticism. He grabbed one of the many chairs on stage and took a seat right in front of his principal cellist. “Is that why you’ve been distracted today? You think you’re not good enough?”

“It’s not just that. Or actually it’s not that at all, because I know I’m a damn good cellist, and I don’t think I’m lacking anything in the talent department. What bothered me most is that they kept mentioning my age and how young and inexperienced I am. They made me look like some naïve little farm girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing with all those big shot musicians who are just going to eat her up and spit her out.”

“Ms Haruno, I’ve been in this business for two decades now, and I was responsible for enough auditions to be able to tell which musician has got what it takes. Trust me when I tell you I would not have picked you if I didn’t have absolute faith in your ability to keep up with the rest of my orchestra. In fact, part of the reason I chose you was precisely because you were so young, so don’t ever let anybody make you feel like that is a disadvantage, because it’s not.”

Madara could see that his words had a calming effect on her. His reassurance resulted in a timid smile tugging at her lips as she tentatively asked, “Do you really mean that? That you picked me because I’m so young? Because you’ve never worked with anyone my age before. You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“The last thing anybody would accuse me of is sugarcoating my opinion and buttering someone up. Trust me, I never lie to my musicians, least of all to my protégé.”

“But why? Why was my age so decisive when you thought about signing me on?”

Well, I didn’t know it back then, but as it turns out I have a thing for little girls with a Daddy complex and a desperate need to please.

Naturally, Madara couldn’t give that particular explanation, so he went for the next best thing, “For the same reason an artist would never paint on an already used canvas. You’re easier to mould now. You’re my blank canvas.”

And he was going to paint her in all of his colours. Especially in all sorts of red hues, like the ones adorning her cheeks at the moment.

“You want to mould me?”

Among many other, much much naughtier things.

“I am your mentor, after all, and that’s what’s expected of me. We mould our protégés into their best possible selves.”

He gave her a tiny reassuring smile and stood up from his chair.

“Now let’s continue. Richter’s Infra 5. I want the mezzo-staccato more pronounced this time.”

                                                        ----------

Her maestro’s encouraging words should have been enough to dispel any worries she had about her age and the question of whether or not she was too young and inexperienced to be part of his orchestra. And yet, here she was, five days after their concert in Seoul, sitting on stage in the Beijing Concert Hall, feeling all kinds of inadequate and wishing she had half the cup size of their singer.

Mei Terumi. Half Chinese, half Japanese opera diva par excellence and a proud E cup. She had the voice of an angel, the curves of Aphrodite, and all the grace, elegance and finesse of a mature woman who – contrary to Sakura – can not only walk in high heels, but actually stand around in them and sing her heart out for four hours straight without breaking a sweat or ruining her perfect hairdo. She was Maestro Uchiha’s special guest for their Beijing concert tomorrow; they were the musical accompaniment while Ms Terumi would beguile the audience with seductive jazz songs.

While Sakura loved the pieces her maestro chose for the concert, she was glad that particular programme wasn’t planned for every performance and that the opera singer wouldn’t accompany them for the entire tour. Because their conductor chose different pieces for every other city they would perform in, the jazz theme with Mei Terumi’s vocals was only planned this once for Beijing.

And judging by that weird feeling of inadequateness Sakura got every time she even so much as looked at the singer, one performance with her is more than enough to dampen her spirits.

“Do you think the two of them are doing it?”

Her head whipped to her right where she was met with the sight of their principal percussionist twirling his drumsticks. They were currently on a short break during their rehearsal, so Naruto came to join them in the string section.

“What do you mean ‘doing it’?” Sakura asked while trying to avoid getting the pointy end of his drumsticks stuck in her eye.

“You know, it.” The blonde musician suggestively wiggled with his eyebrows, but his expectant look was met with only more confusion, and Sakura shrugged her shoulders.

“Give it up, Naruto. Forehead is way too innocent to even think about such things. Isn’t that right,” Ino asked with a teasing grin, leaning closer to Sakura before whispering, “little Miss virgin?”

Sakura didn’t even have time to cover her blushing face when she heard Naruto snicker right next to her. “Oh my God, you are so adorable. You seriously didn’t know that doing it means having sex? You are such a pure, innocent little flower, and I shall shield you from being corrupted by this evil, sex-obsessed witch.”

“This evil, sex-obsessed witch will visit your hotel room tonight and shove her clarinet up your ass if you don’t shut your cakehole soon. But seriously though, the two of them are totally doing it. I mean look at her, who wouldn’t wanna do her? Plus, she’s totally Mr Uchiha’s type, you know mature, sophisticated, can probably tell the difference between Scotch and Bourbon. Hell, I’d do her, and she is so far out of my league she might as well live on Proxima Centauri.”

Sakura followed Ino’s gaze and let her eyes rest on the singer standing next to their conductor, currently busy with discussing a particularly complex piece. There was nothing overtly flirtatious about her behaviour, not now and not during the previous handful of rehearsals they had over the past two days. Both her and Mr Uchiha were always extremely professional, never getting too close or touching each other inappropriately. Though Sakura had to agree with Ino: Mei Terumi was so incredibly attractive that it probably wouldn’t even take that much flirting to wrap any guy around her finger. But weirdly enough Sakura wasn’t bothered so much by the idea of her conductor and the singer being intimate with each other. Sure, Maestro Uchiha was a god to her and she revered him as such, but never in her wildest dreams would she dare to think of herself as an object of his romantic or sexual desires. She was used to competing with others for his professional attention, but the thought of competing with women like Mei Terumi for his romantic attention had never crossed her mind, because Sakura believed him to be very much out of her league. And since intimacy wasn’t something she aimed for or even associated with her relationship with Mr Uchiha, her feeling of unease didn’t stem from romantic jealousy.

Mei Terumi was more of a reminder of Sakura’s lack of experience. The singer was basically oozing confidence and maturity with her flirtatious smiles, the way she held herself around big shot conductors like Madara Uchiha, and the way she knew exactly what to wear to accentuate her killer curves. In comparison to her, the young cellist felt all kinds of inadequate with her frilly little dresses and the fact that she didn’t even know that doing it meant having sex.

Mei Terumi and everything she embodied made Sakura feel too young, too inexperienced, as if she could never be up to par with the grown-ups if she kept sticking to her little girl persona.  And she desperately wanted to prove to her maestro that there was more to her than floral dresses and Hello Kitty stuffed toys.

Having made up her mind, the young cellist turned to her blonde friend.

“Ino, do you think I could borrow one of your dresses tomorrow?”

                                                         ----------

Madara nearly spat out his drink when he saw the outfit his principal cellist chose for the afterparty.

He was always the last to arrive at such events, and as soon he entered the lounge his eyes automatically scanned the crowd for a mop of pink hair. Sure enough, he found her, but unlike most times when he set his eyes on her, he didn’t like what he was seeing.  

She was dressed in a little black neckholder dress that hugged her petite figure and exposed just the right amount of cleavage to be alluring without coming across as slutty. Madara watched her nervously run her fingers through her long silky hair which was pulled into a tight high ponytail, and when her lips closed around the straw in her drink he noticed they were painted a provocative burgundy. His eyes travelled down the shape of her slender legs and landed on the dark red stilettos she was very obviously wearing for the first time, judging by the way she kept awkwardly twirling her foot on the heel of her shoe.

There was absolutely nothing slutty or inappropriate about her outfit. In fact, this was the way most of his female musicians dressed for events like these, and usually he couldn’t care less.

But little Ms Haruno once again proved to be the exception to each and every one of his rules.

Because even though he wouldn’t bat an eye whenever he saw Yamanaka, Sabakuno or Hyuuga in such outfits, because they were all older, seeing his protégé pretend to be someone she’s not dressed up in something so wildly unlike her made his hand tingle with the need to spank some sense into her.

As if she could sense his glare, the pink-haired cellist turned her head and let her eyes rest on him. For a second, Madara could have sworn she looked like a child who got caught with her hands in the cookie jar. He raised his hand and beckoned her to him. Like the good little girl that she was, she immediately left everything and everyone behind and made her way to him.

“Mr Uchiha, I’m glad you could – “

“What are you wearing?”

Madara watched as her hands immediately flew to the hem of her dress in an attempt to pull it down and cover a bit more skin she was suddenly and very obviously self-conscious about.

“You don’t like it?” she asked nervously as she looked up at him with huge, doubtful eyes.

“I think you already knew that I wouldn’t like it when you asked Ms Sabakuno to lend it to you. Or was it Ms Yamanaka?”

“But Sir, my outfit doesn’t violate the dress code, I even asked Deidara. Plus, Ino said she wore that dress a hundred times and nobody ever said it was inappropriate.”

“Do you feel comfortable in it, Ms Haruno?”

She lowered her gaze in defeat and instead absent-mindedly let it rest on his tie as she shook her head.

“Then why are you wearing it?”

Madara watched his young protégé shrug her shoulders and turn her head as a blush crept up her face. With a tiny, shy voice she added, “I just wanted to show everybody that I’m not just some young inexperienced rookie. That I can hang with the big kids, you know?”

“Wearing clothes you’re clearly uncomfortable in isn’t going to help with that. If you want to show them that you’re someone worthy of respect, you need to do it with merit and not by pretending to be someone you’re not. Now I’m going to take you back to your hotel room and you’re going to change, is that clear?”

Madara’s hand found the small of her back as he guided her to the lounge’s exit.

“Sir, is that really necessary? I mean sure, the shoes hurt, but I was only going to stay for another hour or so anyway. I can make that without changing.”

When they exited the building, the brisk night air made the young cellist shiver, so Madara wordlessly took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before hailing a taxi. As he opened the door for her and helped her get in, he fixed her with another glare and said, “The hotel is only a five minute ride away from here, so that should be enough time for you to think about why I’m disappointed in you. We’ll talk about this when we’re in your room, so I’ll expect an answer from you, young lady.”

He closed the door and got into the taxi on the other side. It was a tense five minutes, though probably more so for the pink-haired musician than for Madara. He could practically hear the wheels turning inside her head as he silently let her mull over his accusation. But he believed that giving her the time and opportunity to self-reflect was going to prove a valuable lesson for her. Not least because Madara knew she was always desperate to fix the mistakes he pointed out.

After arriving at their hotel, the conductor helped Sakura out of the car and told her to go ahead so he could pay the driver. Leaning closer to the man’s front seat window, he heard him say, “You have a lovely daughter, Sir. With a firm daddy such as yourself, I’m sure she’ll turn out just fine, so don’t be too harsh on her. I’m a father too, you know, and I’m very proud of my little princess.”

Great. The universe was clearly torturing him. Madara knew he had to keep his lewd fantasies regarding his pretty little protégé in check, and yet some greater force deemed it necessary to dangle them in front of him every chance it got.

But he couldn’t give in.

He really shouldn’t.

“What were you and the driver talking about?” Madara heard a shy voice next to him ask.

As they entered the hotel’s lobby, the maestro steeled his resolve to not overstep any lines while they were alone in her room. He reminded himself this was purely for the image of the orchestra. He was just going to make sure that his protégé wouldn’t embarrass herself and his ensemble by wearing clothes unfit for such a young woman. Right, there was nothing more to it.

Nothing inappropriate was going to happen.

Getting into the lift, he pressed the button that would lead them to her room as she asked again, “Sir, what did the driver have to say?”

“You’re a nosey little one, aren’t you? If you really must know, he didn’t say anything that would concern you.”

Madara turned his head to face her and was met with the same look of absolute reverence and adoration she always had reserved only for him. In that moment, he knew he just lost the most decisive battle of his life.

And he couldn’t care less.

With a devilish grin tugging on the corner of his lips, he leaned a bit closer to her and whispered, “At least it doesn’t concern you … yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His grin widened at the sight of her adorably confused face before he exited the lift and headed for her room. The driver did say something that concerned Sakura, but Madara meant what he said – it didn’t concern her yet. Because she sure as hell was his little princess and he sure as hell would be the firm daddy doling out spankings left right and centre – she just didn’t know it yet. Now that he threw caution to the wind and decided to give into his desires, Madara couldn’t wait to implement some changes in their relationship: The maestro would slowly and subtly introduce her to some of the things he had been craving to do to her since the day he met the little cellist, and if she responded to them willingly Madara would make her his for good. Though judging by the way she was already staring up at him with hearts in her eyes and a look that said please love me, daddy, Madara was sure she would jump at the chance of being nurtured and disciplined by him in more ways than a professional one.

Closing the door to her hotel room, Madara had to force down his devious grin and instead pretend to be angry. He turned around and fixed her with a glare. “Go into the bathroom, remove all of that make-up and change into something more comfortable.”

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled with a pout before turning on her heel and disappearing into the bathroom.

When she got out, Madara had to stifle a groan at the sight of her new outfit: She was wearing pastel pink flannel pyjama bottoms with unicorns on them and a snug white shirt with a picture of her instrument and the words Cello: Everyone Else Is Accompaniment below it. She couldn’t possibly be any cuter if she tried.

Madara motioned her to sit on the bed while he crossed his arms in front of his chest and positioned himself in front of her in his most authentic imitation of an angry dad posture.

“Now, Ms Haruno, can you tell me why I’m disappointed in you?”

Tucking her chin into her chest, Sakura mumbled something incoherent in that tiny unsure voice she always used whenever she thought she did something wrong.

“Speak up, little one, I can’t hear you.”

“Because I pretended to be someone I’m not?”

“And why do you think that upset me?”

She started chewing on her bottom lip which drove Madara absolutely mad for 5 hellishly long seconds before answering, “Because you told me once already that I shouldn’t worry about my age or how experienced I seem to others, and that you picked me because I’m so young, and that I should be proud of it and not try to hide it, but I did that anyway and now you’re mad at me.” The pinkette was now nervously tugging on the ends the blanket she was sitting on while looking up at him with a pleading look in her eyes, silently begging him to forgive her.

Madara knew he was being cold when he didn’t answer immediately, instead fixing his glare on her for a few more seconds and allowing himself to enjoy her display of absolute submissiveness.

“Please, Sir, I can’t stand the thought of you being disappointed in me. Please, just tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I’ll follow all of your rules. I’ll be good, Sir, I promise.”

Gods have mercy on him, she was the perfect little girl. All submissive, obedient, and desperate to please him. And the best thing was, she wasn’t even faking her little persona. She didn’t just wear frilly dresses or unicorn pyjama bottoms to impress someone, she didn’t just braid her hair into pigtails because she wanted to look younger, she didn’t just pretend to constantly crave his guidance and approval because she thought that’s what turned him on – she just really was genuinely little.

And also in desperate need of some punishment.

“It seems like you’re no longer able to decide which clothes are appropriate for your age. In order to prevent you from embarrassing yourself and our entire orchestra, I will decide what you wear to formal events. We start right now, I’ll find something more suitable for tonight’s party. You’re going to change and we’re going to go back, so you can prove to whomever you want to prove that neither your age nor your clothes define how good and how experienced a musician you are.”

Madara opened her closet where she had hung a couple of dresses, skirts, and blouses and started going through her clothes when he heard her protest behind him.

“But Sir, is that really necessary? It was a one-time thing, I promise it won’t happen again.”

He handed her a simple white blouse and a floral skirt he had often seen her wear and sternly added, “I’m giving you the opportunity to comply with my rules willingly. If you keep misbehaving and disobeying me, I can always just spank some sense into you.”

Judging by her scared wide eyes and the deep blush spreading across her cheeks, that threat was enough to get her moving. With a nervous little Yes, Sir, Sakura disappeared into the bathroom to change into her new outfit. When she got out, he beckoned her to get closer to where he was leaning against a desk.

“Now isn’t that more comfortable?”

Madara watched his pretty little protégé twirl in front of a mirror before she nodded her head in confirmation. “This is actually one of my favourite skirts. Though I rarely wear it to formal events.”

“Why is that?”

“Well … it’s silly, but … I rarely wear skirts and dresses without thigh high socks, because I just think it looks so cute.”

Oh, he noticed.

“And even though I admittedly don’t have the fanciest fashion sense, even I know you don’t wear thigh high socks to an after party. So I usually just choose an outfit where I wouldn’t have worn socks anyway. Even though I’ve got the prettiest and cutest socks ever that just go perfectly with this skirt.”

Madara noticed the way her eyes started to sparkle as soon as she got out of the bathroom. She obviously felt much more comfortable now, and she even seemed to enjoy playing dress-up for him. So he decided he would indulge her.

“Well if you really think that outfit is incomplete without your socks, why don’t you put them on and show me?”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and she immediately dashed to her suitcase where she rummaged around in search of her socks. Taking a seat on the bed, she quickly rolled them over each leg, stepped in front of the mirror to Madara’s left and twirled around all happy and cute. Then she turned towards him and extended her left leg to show him her socks. “See, they’ve got cute little kitty faces on the upper part here, and they’ve even got cat ears sticking out of the hem, and I use them to pull up the socks.”

“That’s adorable, little one.”

She blushed and shyly bit her bottom lip before whispering a tiny Thank you, Sir.

“There’s only one problem. You got changed so quickly that you look all dishevelled now. Your blouse isn’t neatly tucked into your skirt and your socks aren’t pulled up to the same height. I can’t let you go to a fancy afterparty like this, now, can I? Come here, princess,” he spread his legs and gently pulled her closer to him, so she was now standing between them, “let me fix this for you.”

While Madara was busy fixing her outfit – smoothing out wrinkles, tucking in her blouse, neatly rolling up her sleeves, and taking his sweet time doing it – Sakura was busy trying to stand still and not sway back and forth from the constant pushing and pulling. “Little one, you’ll need to stop fidgeting if you want me to fix your outfit. Hold on to me, so you can keep still.”

Gingerly, his little protégé placed her tiny little hands on his shoulders and used them to push back against his pulling and prodding.

“Sir, is this an outfit you would deem appropriate for me to wear to formal events?”

“Absolutely. Why?”

“Good. Because in that case, I don’t think I have a problem with you choosing my outfits from now on. I’m glad you seem to know what I like.”

Madara was met with a shy sincere smile from the pink-haired girl standing between his legs, and he was once again reminded of the fact of how adorably innocent she was, because no other woman – or even girl for that matter – would say I’m glad you seem to know what I like without being aware of the sexual innuendo of such a statement. But Sakura was so incredibly pure and chaste that Madara would bet his left testicle that she could suck on a popsicle in a room full of men and still be surprised that every single one of them was sporting a giant hard-on.

He took in her appearance and noted that the only thing still in need of fixing were her socks, which he purposefully saved for last. Now was the time to see if she would stop him from really overstepping the mark. Though, granted, fixing one of his musician’s outfit in such an intimate manner was already inappropriate, Madara still would have found a way to somehow talk his way out of it and make it seem like a halfway reasonable thing to do for an image-conscious conductor. But putting his hands underneath her skirt and pretending to pull up her socks under the thinly veiled guise of fixing her outfit – that was a completely different kettle of fish altogether.

“Are you going to do my socks, too, Sir?”

When Madara looked into her face, he immediately had an answer to his question of whether or not she would allow him to go this far. Because there was no insecurity or hesitance in her eyes, there wasn’t even the tell-tale blush or the flirtatious smile of someone who understood the intimacy of a man about to put his hands on a woman’s bare upper thigh. She looked at him expectantly as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a conductor to pull up the thigh high socks of his musician beneath her skirt.  

And so that was exactly what he did.

“Of course, little one. We want your two little kitties to be at eye level with each other, don’t we?”

That remark got him the cutest little giggle as Madara hooked his fingers into the hem of her left sock and slowly pulled it up her slender thigh.  

“Sir, you can’t forget to put the faces in the middle. It will look weird if the two kitties don’t face the same direction.”

“You’re right, princess. We don’t want somebody thinking your two kittens aren’t getting along with each other, now, do we?”

He could hear another giggle as he enveloped her left thigh with both his hands and rotated the sock so that the kitten face was in the middle. He allowed his thumb to slowly brush the back of her thigh before he willed both his hands to let go of her. Madara gave the two cat ears another tug and turned his attention to her right leg.

Again, he hooked his fingers into the hem of her sock and very slowly pulled it up, until it was the same height as the left one. Then he put his hand on the back of her knee and let it wander upwards to smooth out any wrinkles until his hand almost touched her ass. Using both hands again, he enveloped her upper thigh and gave the sock a few twists until the kitten face was in the middle. While his right hand was busy fixing the cat ears, Madara’s left hand was stroking up and down her inner thigh and came dangerously close to her panty line. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingers for a few more seconds before lowering his hands to the slightly more respectable area of her knee caps.

“All done now.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips before she shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Sir. But I can’t see anything. The skirt is too long, it’s covering the kitties.”

“Pull it up, then.”

“Oh… right, of course.” Sakura shot him a bashful look, bit her lip, and then grabbed the hem of her skirt to pull it up a bit.

“See how pretty your legs look?” Madara asked while stroking the back of her thighs beneath her skirt.

“Mhm. I love these socks, they make me feel so pretty. I’m glad you made me change, Sir, I feel so much more comfortable now.”

“I’m glad you didn’t make a fuss. See how easy everything can be when you’re a good girl who listens and does as she’s told.”

“Um, Sir … about that.” Madara watched the young cellist start nervously playing with the end of his tie. While she was lost in thought, he took the opportunity to slowly move his hands upwards until his fingers were barely brushing the underside of her cheeks.

“Were you, um … were you really going to – I mean, if I had put up a fight, would you really have … you know?”

When she raised her head to peek up at him, Madara was met with the usual combination of a bashful look, a tell-tale blush and her signature circuit-frying lip bite. But she wasn’t the only one capable of rattling the other, he thought. After all, his hands were still very much beneath her skirt all but groping her ass.

“Would I have done … what, Sakura?” he prompted teasingly while giving the back of her thighs a firm squeeze.

She closed her eyes for a second and sighed quietly, before looking at him again.

“You know, Sir. Would you … Would you have,” she leaned in closer and whispered, “sp-spanked me?”

“Of course, I would have.”

Her blush turned an even deeper shade of red, and Madara could hear her breath quickening. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was intrigued by the thought of his hands leaving bright red imprints on her ass.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’m not going to spank you now for what you did tonight, because we didn’t set any rules for that and you didn’t know that punishment was even involved. But you do know now, so I suggest you try your best to be a really good little girl from now on.”

She eagerly nodded her head and added a nervous little Yes, Sir before she went back to playing with the end of his tie.

“But um, when you,” Madara watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips, “spank me … what does that feel like? Does it hurt?”

“Now why would you want to know that? As long as you don’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about on that front.”

“I just don’t think that I can sleep tonight knowing that there’s a possibility of me getting punished and I don’t even know what that form of punishment looks or feels like.”

Oh, she was intrigued alright. Madara couldn’t shake the feeling that he just broke a dam. For both of them.

“Well, I wouldn’t want my protégé to lose sleep over anything.”

He grabbed the back side of her skirt, pulled it up above her ass and gave her right cheek a sound smack.

And Gods have mercy on him, in that exact moment he heard the most delicious moan he ever elicited from a woman. If Madara hadn’t already thought that this innocent young cellist was the perfect little girl for him to nurture and to discipline, hearing her moan after being spanked for the first time would have given him the last proof he needed to know that she craved his dominance as much as he craved her submissiveness.

“This is what a spanking feels like. A very, very nice spanking, mind you. It’s going to hurt a lot more when I’m angry with you.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She nodded her head in understanding while rubbing soothing circles on her backside.

Madara was enjoying this way too much, so he had to bring this to an end soon before he completely lost control of his senses. If he were to see her bite her lip one more time, Madara swore his dick would explode.

“Now that we’ve cleared up a few things, I suggest you return to the party. There are a lot of people there eager to meet you. And remember,” he grabbed her chin between his fingers and leaned closer, “be a good little girl for me.”

Madara watched her blush deepen as she stared into his eyes with a dreamy look and moaned a tiny little Yes, Sir.

After she had gathered her things and grabbed her purse, they both left her hotel room. Sakura headed towards the lift when she noticed Madara wasn’t following.

“Aren’t you coming, too?”

“You go ahead, I’ll join you in a bit. I just need to take care of something first.”

My rock hard dick.

The conductor watched his protégé step into the lift and wave goodbye. “Ok then, see you in a bit, Mr Uchiha. And um … thanks.” Sakura shot him a bashful smile before the doors closed.

Madara released a sigh of relief before focusing his gaze on his hard-on.

“You’re going to both hate me and love me for what I did tonight.”

[a-damson-in-distress]

Is there going to an update for the protégé fic?

Hi wow how long has this been here? I’m so sorry for getting back to you so late! At least I think it’s late, because I haven’t been on Tumblr for months. 

To answer your question: Yes, I’m still working on The Protégé. In fact, I just logged in to upload chapter 5, so that’ll be up any second now. 

Hope you’ll like it and don’t forget to let me know what you think. Enjoy! :)

[a-damson-in-distress]

“Go out in the world and fuck it up beautifully… Horrify us with new ideas. Outrage outdated critics. Use technology for transgression, not lazy social living… And finally, count your blessings.”

— John Waters

[a-damson-in-distress]

[a-damson-in-distress]

Enchanting Bookworm Inspired Digital Illustrations by Simini Blocker

NYC based illustrator Simini Blocker understands the enchanting world bookworms revel in. From Hogwarts to Neverland or King’s Landing, Blocker captures the spellbinding imaginative realms literature has introduced to us with vibrant colours, gorgeous brushstrokes and fitting quotes from our favourite authors. You can find her gorgeous illustrations on Society6 and Etsy.

View similar posts here!

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[a-damson-in-distress]

short summary of the situation in Sudan

[a-damson-in-distress]

(Pseudo) Orchestra Knowledge 101

Ok so I’m already four chapters into my MadaSaku orchestra AU The Protégé and with every chapter I realise there are a few more questions in the comments about the whole orchestra lingo I’m using (hopefully correctly). So I decided to clear up a few things before we move on, so there won’t be any misunderstanding plot wise in the upcoming chapters. I have the feeling an orchestra AU might be a bit too particular compared to other fanfic AUs we’re used to, where we at least know the basics. 

Again, and I cannot stress this enough, I have never been a member of an orchestra. I played the piano for ten years and I still know what a lot of the musical articulations mean, but that’s about it. So please excuse any irregularities or mistakes - they’re either there, because my silly little wannabe brain didn’t know any better, or because they serve a certain purpose for the plot. 

But if there’s anybody out there reading The Protégé who, unlike me, knows their orchestra shit, I would be super thankful for tips/corrections/etc. So here we go:

articulations: In music, articulation refers to the different performance techniques a musician can use to perform a piece. These techniques can affect pitch, duration, amplitude, etc. Examples of musical articulation would be staccato (a note with short duration separated from next note), pianissimo (playing very softly/quietly), crescendo/decrescendo (increasing/decreasing pitch), pizzicato (plucking the strings of a string instrument), etc.

principal instrument player: In an orchestra, every instrument group has got one principal player, usually the most skilled one, who’s basically the boss of their respective instrument group, gets the most difficult pieces, is responsible for tuning, etc. In Madara’s ensemble, Sakura is the principal cellist for instance, Ino is principal clarinet, and Naruto is principal percussionist. 

Maestro: An honorary title given to the conductor of an orchestra or ensemble. Apparently it’s no longer common to address a conductor as Maestro, at least not in the Western classical music scene (no idea how they would handle it in Asia/Japan though). But I still decided to have Madara’s musicians address him as Maestro whenever they were on stage or performing. It’s my version of the Sir in 50 Shades of Grey.

concert master: The first violinist of an ensemble is also the concert master. He sits to the conductor’s left (while Sakura sits to the conductor’s right, nice parallelism right?). After the conductor, the CM is the second most significant leader of an orchestra, so Kabuto is NOT above Madara in terms of hierarchy. I would describe him as a sort of team captain, much like a sports team has got a captain who represents the entire team, who’s usually the most important or most skilled player but still needs to listen to the coach. So Kabuto is still very much Madara’s bitch.

I think those were the most confusing terms, or at least the ones mentioned most often in questions. If you want me to clarify any other words/names/aspects or whatever, let me know. I do want you guys to be able to follow me, after all. :)

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 4

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

The Protégé 1

The Protégé 2

The Protégé 3

Edit: I almost forgot to add this super important note: A thousand thank yous to my regulars who have followed this story from the get-go. There are a few of you who never fail to show their appreciation and never forget to leave an encouraging comment. Don’t think I don’t notice you, you stalkers ;). I am immensly thankful for your feedback and your comments, they keep me so motivated and give me a sense of validation, like this isn’t just some sort of private thing that I only create for myself and nobody else gives a shit about it. If five hundred people read my story without leaving a comment or anything and I’ve only got the few reviews from you guys, it’s still enough to show me that my work is appreciated. So thank you!

Note: For those of you who are as confused about orchestral stage etiquette as I am and have no idea what’s going on with the whole handshake thing in this chapter, here’s what I found out about it while doing research for chapter four: The first violinist in an orchestra is also called the concert master, he represents the entire orchestra and functions as a sort of “team captain” if you will. So whenever the maestro invites a soloist, the soloist is supposed to shake hands with the maestro (thanking him for the invitation basically) as well as the concert master (though there are variations to this, some only shake hands before the performance, some before and after, etc.). By shaking the CM’s hand, the soloist essentially thanks all of the other musicians for their collaboration as solo concertos are usually a group effort, and you know the soloist can’t go around shaking the hands of a hundred people so they usually only shake hands with the CM *gasp* wow that was a long explanation. Aaaaaaanyway, here’s a video of the concerto Sakura is performing in this chapter: Camille Saint-Saën’s Cello Concerto No.1 in A minor. 

Enjoy, have fun reading, let me know if you liked it, leave a comment, send a carrier pigeon, send a smoke signal, you know whatever floats your boat. You know the drill. 

                                                               ---------

“A little to the left. Chin up. Perfect, stay that way.”

Sakura had trouble not squinting her eyes when the photographer unleashed another onslaught of camera flashes upon her. She was currently in his studio doing a photo shoot for the orchestra’s and the theatre’s official websites. Her probation period was over, and they were only a week away from kicking off their tour after their first performance at home, so now the New National Theatre was going to officially announce her as the principal cellist of Maestro Uchiha’s ensemble complete with interviews, articles, videos of her rehearsals, and ridiculously over-the-top photographs.

The nickname the press had given her after her solo in Sapporo spread like wildfire, and the orchestra’s publicist decided to capitalise on her image as the Imperatrix Furiosa. So they put her in a majestic velvet evening gown dyed in a scandalous scarlet with a skirt wide enough to allow her to spread her legs to accommodate her cello on the throne-like chair she was currently sitting in. Her hair was tied up into an overly dramatic and intricate updo and fastened with fancy kanzashi hair pins that were sticking out in such a manner they made it look like she was wearing a crown.

The dress and accessories paired with the red lipstick and dramatic eye make-up made her look every bit the Furious Empress and the enticing femme fatale of Japan’s classical music scene the publicist wanted her to portray.

And Sakura hated every second of it.

“Do you think you have enough pictures now?” the young cellist asked tentatively while trying to hold her unnatural pose.

Deidara, the orchestra’s publicist, looked up from the laptop where her photographs appeared right after being snapped. “Just a few more, sweety. You’re doing great, though.” He gave her an encouraging thumbs-up and shot her an apologetic smile. Great, Sakura mused silently, she must have looked more uncomfortable than she thought. And here she was thinking she was good at hiding it.

“Seriously, though, we need to wrap this up. She’s got rehearsal in an hour, and Madara will chop off my head if his MVP is late,” Sakura heard the blonde publicist explain to the photographer. She sincerely hoped the heavy make-up was covering the deep blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks at his remark. Did her Maestro really tell the publicist she was his most valuable musician?

“No grinning, please,” came the photographer’s command from behind his lens.

Right. Stop daydreaming, Sakura reminded herself.

Straightening her back and schooling her features, the pink-haired cellist remained motionless on her make-shift throne. After a few more minutes of clicking, snapping, repositioning, and flashing, Sakura was finally free to get out of her dress and wash off all that make-up. She undid her complicated updo and gathered her hair into a high puffy ponytail. Putting on her pastel green boat neck dress with box pleats and slipping into her simple white ballerinas, she immediately felt more comfortable, like her young and goofy self and not the mature and seductive diva the photographer wanted her to be.

“Chop-chop, darling. Maestro Menacing is waiting for you.” Sakura was torn from her thoughts at the sound of Deidara calling out from the other side of the closed door. The young musician had to supress a smirk at the sound of the nickname she knew the publicist secretly used for her Maestro. He wasn’t entirely wrong, Mr Uchiha really could come across as menacing and unapproachable. But Sakura had gotten to know another side of him over the last weeks as well. There was a gentleness to him he only rarely showed, tiny little smiles of satisfaction and subtle gestures of encouragement. As much as she appreciated his constructive criticism, she loved his nods of approval and his well done, Ms Haruno’s even more.

And she couldn’t wait to prove herself to her Maestro during the upcoming tour and hope for a bit more of his praise she so selfishly craved.

After Deidara and Sakura left the photographer’s studio, they immediately headed back to the theatre where the rest of Maestro Uchiha’s ensemble was already preparing themselves for one of their last rehearsals before kicking off their tour. Sakura took her usual seat to the right of the conductor’s music stand. She was so busy tuning her cello, she didn’t even notice her Maestro approach his podium.

“Ms Haruno.” A deep voice made her look up in surprise and she was met with the sight of the raven-haired conductor casually leaning on the rail of his podium with his strong arms crossed in front of his broad chest, clad in a meticulous three-piece suit sans the jacket.

The young cellist prayed to God her blush wasn’t as visible as she thought it was.

“Yes, Maestro?” she answered in a small voice.

“How was the photoshoot?”

Sakura gave him a weak smile and chuckled softly. “Honestly? It was horrible. They dressed me up in this heavy, floor-length gown and backcombed my hair so much it looked like I had a bird’s nest on my head in the end. And I had so much make-up on I could literally feel my pores dying a horrible death by asphyxiation. Please don’t look at the photos once they upload them.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. But if it makes you feel any better, I will not go actively looking for your pictures. Though I have to admit, I would love to see a pink bird’s nest.” Her Maestro’s teasing grin made her giggle, and Sakura looked up at the raven-haired conductor with a huge smile on her face.

Just in that moment, she could hear the sound of a camera shutter from her left. Both her Maestro and Sakura turned around in surprise and spotted Deidara standing in the middle of the countless rows of seats with a camera in his hand.

“Finally. Do you know how difficult it is to get a photo of two people together who both hate to pose for pictures? You two are a publicist’s nightmare, but you’re lucky you’re so goddamn photogenic.”

Sakura turned to Maestro Uchiha and looked at him questioningly. With an annoyed eye roll, he explained, “Deidara said he needed a picture of the two of us together for our countless social media profiles. He wants to make a post about me welcoming you to the ensemble or whatever, and apparently, I cannot officially welcome you without a picture.”

His obvious annoyance with the blonde publicist elicited another laugh from the young cellist. Sakura watched her conductor narrow his eyes at her before his own lips spread into a tiny amused grin.

“Alright, that’s enough giggling now, Ms Haruno. If you keep enjoying my jokes like that, the other members of my orchestra might start to think I actually have a heart.”

Biting on her bottom lip to keep herself from chuckling at his quip and again hoping that her blush wouldn’t betray her, the young cellist focused her gaze on her sheet music and readied her instrument for the rehearsal. The other musicians took their seats as well, filling up the vacant space around Sakura, and fixed their eyes on the conductor.

Maestro Uchiha gave his final orders, raised his baton, and the musicians started playing.

                                                            ---------

“I finally got Naruto to accept my karaoke challenge. He’s going to do Leona Lewis’ Bleeding Love at the bar tonight, you gotta come with us!”  

The pink-haired cellist looked up from her sheet music and was met with the face of her new roommate Ino, the principal clarinet of their ensemble. After her first rehearsal with the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, Temari had introduced her to some people she claimed were the only tolerable ones, and Sakura immediately hit it off with the blonde musician. Not long after getting to know each other, Ino offered her to move in with her after her previous roommate accepted another job in a different city. Though some of her newly found friends in the orchestra, who had all known Ino for a long time now, jokingly advised her against it with the explanation that she’s bi and you’re annoyingly adorable and totally her type, she’ll eat you up and spit you out, Sakura hadn’t regretted a single second of being the roommate of the exuberant and feisty clarinet player.

“Sure, I’ll be there. I just need a minute to talk to the Maestro,” Sakura answered with an amused grin.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ino bounce up and down with excitement. “Yay, it’s gonna be so great. We always go out the night before our first performance, without any alcohol of course,” the blonde musician added in a loud voice, pointedly looking in Maestro Uchiha’s direction before continuing, “but still, you’re gonna have so much fun with us. I’ll see you at home. And don’t be late, missy, I still need to do your makeup.”

Sakura was met with the end of Ino’s perfectly manicured index finger pointed accusingly at her face before the blonde turned on her heel and strutted off the stage as if it were her own personal catwalk.

Gathering her things, the pink-haired cellist made her way to the Maestro, who was currently busy berating his principal percussionist Naruto for goofing around with his timpani sticks during a break and pretending to have a swordfight with his fellow players. She decided to wait for them to finish and came to a halt in the middle of the string section when she realised that their orchestra’s concert master Kabuto was seemingly also waiting for a word with their conductor.

The grey-haired violinist was one of the musicians who hadn’t even spared her a glance on her first day. But while most of them seemed to have come around in the meantime or have at least started greeting their newest member, Kabuto was still adamantly giving her the cold shoulder. Whenever she tried talking to him, Sakura was met with nothing but haughty looks and condescending remarks. Though she had to admit, the moments of interaction between them were few and far between, because Sakura tried to keep them to a minimum. Their concert master was clearly of the highly competitive sort, and Sakura had no intention of letting him drag her into a musical pissing contest.

And still, manners were manners, so the cellist forced a tight smile and greeted him.

“Hey, Kabuto. Excited for our first concert tomorrow?”

The grey-haired violinist slowly turned his head and looked down his nose at her. He studied her for a second with narrowed eyes, as if trying to discern whether or not she was worthy of an answer, before opening his mouth, “I’m sure you are.”

Supressing the urge to roll her eyes at his usual cryptic answer, Sakura instead ignored his remark and cleared her throat. “So um, every CM seems to be handling stage etiquette a bit differently, so I wanted to ask you how you want to do the handshake tomorrow? Before and after, or just after or do you –“

“Honestly, Haruno, I couldn’t care less about the handshake or your solo. But if this really is so confusing to you, why don’t you go ask Daddy for help? It’s not like our Maestro has anything better to do than take his new little girl by the hand and show her how things work around here.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Sakura could feel her cheeks heating up at his embarrassing remark, and she stared at him open-mouthed, stunned into silence. Luckily, she didn’t have to come up with an answer, since Kabuto was approached by another violinist in that moment, asking him whether he wanted to go out tonight.

“No thanks, I’ll be staying at the theatre for a while longer. I’ve got other plans for later,” the concert master explained with a devious grin.

After the violinist left, Kabuto made no attempt to address Sakura again, and Maestro Uchiha was still not done chewing out Naruto. Since she felt so incredibly uncomfortable in Kabuto’s presence, the young musician decided to grab her cello case and leave. Not even the prospect of talking to Maestro Uchiha for a few minutes was worth it, if it meant she had to spend another second in awkward silence with the concert master who seemed to hate her guts.

                                                              ---------

There was a ritual Madara had long formed a habit of going through before every concert he was going to conduct. It consisted of him mumbling every single articulation in chronological order of every piece of that night’s programme while he re-arranged the seats of his musicians on stage. Even though the stage crew of every theatre he ever worked at never failed to position everything correctly, the conductor still felt more at east when he could move every chair and every music stand to just the perfect spot.

Madara was currently contemplating whether to push a sax player’s seat half a centimetre to the left or to the right when he heard a commotion from backstage. He followed the noise to the labyrinth of dressing rooms where his eyes caught sight of three blonde musicians rushing from one room to the next, frantically looking for something.

“What do you mean, she can’t find it. It must be there!” Temari came rushing past him with a handbag before she promptly dumped its content on a table and started digging through it.

“I don’t know. When we got home last night, I asked her if all of her stuff was ready in the dressing room. She told me she checked everything three times, even tried on the shoes just to be safe, because she was afraid they gave her the wrong size.”

Madara watched his principal clarinet go through the countless makeup bags before she turned to another person in the hall. “Naruto, did you check the clothing racks in all the dressing rooms?” Madara’s gaze landed on the blonde percussionist who just entered the room with an apologetic shake of his head.

Clearing his throat to get their attention, the raven-haired conductor leaned against the door frame and let his gaze wander around the dressing room in which the three musicians were currently bustling about.

“Our concert starts in half an hour. I sincerely hope you’ll find whatever you’re so desperately looking for.”

Madara’s accusatory gaze met the desperate look of the blonde clarinet player before she approached him, grabbing his arm and tugging him down the hall.

“Maestro, you need to help us. It’s an emergency.”

Ino came to a halt in front of the closed door of another dressing room and knocked twice before letting herself in. Madara stayed behind, still unsure of what was really going on.

“Oh God, Ino, please tell me you have it, please! I need to be ready before anyone finds out, or before he finds out. Please, we need to hurry, Maestro Uchiha absolutely can’t know about this, or I’m screwed!”

Madara’s heart suddenly lurched in his chest at the sound of Sakura’s distraught voice so close to tears. He took a step forward and entered the room where he was met with the sight of his principal cellist dressed up in her concert outfit, a dark-green fitted pant suit, black patent leather Oxford’s, and a white blouse fully buttoned up – and missing a bow tie.

“Ms Haruno, what’s going on?”

She fixed her scared, wide eyes on him, and Madara was immediately hit with the urge to envelop her in his arms and assure her he’ll make everything right for her again.

The conductor couldn’t help but let his gaze be drawn to her beautiful mouth, invited by the sight of her teeth chewing on her bottom lip before releasing it to speak.

“Maestro, I’m so so sorry, but I … I can’t seem to find my bow tie. But I swear to God it was here. After the rehearsal and before I left the theatre yesterday, I checked if all of my stuff was ready like you told us and I swear to God my outfit was complete, I know I saw the bow tie with the rest of my clothes. But now it’s gone and we looked everywhere and I don’t know what to do. God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” Her voice was shaky and on the verge of tears and Madara had to consciously restrain the urge in his feet to run to her.

He was just about to say something to comfort the distraught young cellist when he heard more voices approaching the dressing room. The maestro turned around to see a small crowd gathered outside the door, all asking and wondering what was going on with their youngest member.

“Nothing to see here, alright? Just looking for a lost bow tie. We’ll be ready any second now, so scram, got it?” The blonde clarinet player fixed the crowd with a stern gaze and waved her hands in front of her to signal the other musicians to disperse.

“Maybe we should help look? I’m sure we’ll find it faster that way. Then we can all get back to our preparations in peace.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Madara could see Sakura’s head shoot up and her eyes widen in surprise at the sound of his concert master’s suggestion. But before anybody could say anything, Kabuto had already turned around and left.

“I’m sorry for troubling you with this, Maestro. We actually promised Sakura not to tell you anything, but we really couldn’t find it anywhere after looking for so long, and now we’re kind of lost.” Ino’s apologetic gaze was shooting back and forth between the conductor and his principal cellist.

“It’s quite alright, Ms Yamanaka. I’m glad you told me. Now I can get to the bottom of this myself.”

When he saw Sakura’s worried expression turn even more desperate, Madara felt like slapping himself. That came out way more threatening than he intended it to. He was just about to clarify his statement when he heard a knock on the open door which made all their heads turn around.

Kabuto was standing in the doorway with his right hand raised, a bow tie dangling from the edge of his middle finger. “You’ll never guess where I found this,” he said in a casual tone, a barely visible smirk gracing his features.

Madara watched his principal clarinet cross her arms in front of her chest. “Oh I’m sure I will.”

Kabuto ignored her, instead stepping into the dressing room and approaching Sakura. “Somehow, it landed in a drawer of one of the dressing tables.” He slipped the bow tie off his middle finger, and Sakura barely had enough time to catch it. “Lucky for you I’m so thorough at everything I do.” He gave her what was probably meant to be a half-baked attempt at a sincere smile and then turned to face Madara, his fake grin widening, before he left the room.

The maestro’s eyes landed on the young cellist in front of him again, who was still staring after the concert master with a look of confusion. He glanced at his watch and cleared his throat.

“Everybody out. I need a minute with Ms Haruno.”

After her friends hesitantly left the room and closed the door behind them, Madara let his gaze rest on Sakura’s downcast head. It was then the maestro realised she was playing with the bow tie in her hand, tugging at it and turning it around between her fingers. She was nervous.

“Ms Haruno, look at me.”

At the sound of his soft command, Sakura slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. Madara had to supress a groan at the sight of her teeth chewing on her bottom lip again.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” her whispering voice pleaded with him.

“I’m not mad, Ms Haruno. I know none of this was your fault, trust me.” He closed his hands over her fidgeting ones and took the bow tie.

“Chin up.”

The young cellist just stared at him for a second, jade-green eyes wide with confusion.

Madara took a step closer to her, put a finger beneath her chin and forced her head up. He then proceeded to turn up her collar and fasten the bow tie around her neck.

“You’re not going to allow this incident to rattle you, you’re better than this and we both know it. Once I call you up on stage, you’re going to walk up there like you own the place, play your solo to perfection, and blow everyone away.” He gave her bow tie a final tug.

“Have I made myself understood, Ms Haruno?” Madara looked down at her with a strict gaze and a tiny amused smirk gracing his lips.

“Yes, Maestro,” Sakura nodded enthusiastically while smiling up at him with a look of pure determination.

“Good.” Madara grabbed her chin between his fingers and leaned closer to her face before murmuring, “I wouldn’t expect anything less form my protégé.”

He watched with satisfaction as a deep blush spread across her cheeks and her jade-green eyes widened in surprise, staring up at him with that look of wonder, reverence, and gratification she only seemed to have reserved for him, as if his praise was the only thing in the world giving her life meaning.

Unable to resist, Madara allowed his gaze to rest on her inviting lips for a split second before letting go off her chin and forcing himself to leave her dressing room.

His thoughts kept swirling around the young cellist even as he stepped onto the stage amidst tumultuous applause. The conductor had to admit that it was a good decision not to have Sakura join the ensemble for the entire programme but only for her solo in the last half hour; he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes from her. Though that wasn’t the original reason for not having her on stage for the entire performance. What Madara was really hoping to achieve with the late entrance of his principal cellist was to give her the grand introduction deserving of a musician of her calibre. After all, the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra was one of the most prestigious ensembles in the world of classical music, and Sakura Haruno wasn’t just anybody. And a good maestro knows to save the best for last.

Despite his mind being distracted with the image of her inviting lips only centimetres away from his own, Madara was still able to focus on the musicians in front of him as he led his orchestra through the concert’s programme. After they finished their second to last piece and when it was time for Sakura’s solo, he signalled his ensemble to quiet down, turned around on his podium to face the audience and grabbed a microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, as you may have heard the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra has signed on a new member. As of this April, our vacant spot of principal cellist was filled with an immensely talented young musician from Kyoto. Though she doesn’t need an introduction, she’s going to get one anyway. She is an award-winning cello prodigy who was the youngest ever recipient of the first Grand Prize at the Rostropovitch Cello Competition at the age of sixteen. She studied under Takanori Nakano, Stjepan Hauser, and Steven Isserlis, to mention but a few. After establishing herself as a world-renowned cellist in her previous orchestras, she will now join us for our tour as the newest and youngest member of my ensemble. Ladies and Gentlemen, you will now hear Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto number 1 in A minor with our new principal cellist Sakura Haruno as the soloist.”

Madara put down the microphone, stepped off his podium, and walked off the stage to where Sakura was waiting for him.

“Ready?” he asked with an encouraging smile.

She answered with a determined nod as her lips spread into an excited grin. “As I’ll ever be.”

The maestro signalled her to lead the way. As the cellist stepped onto the stage with her instrument in hand, the audience erupted into thunderous applause. Madara followed after her, clapping his hands like the rest of the guests and the musicians of his ensemble. He watched her bow deeply to the audience before turning to Kabuto and shaking his hand with a smug grin plastered on her face. She waited for Madara to step onto his podium before shaking his hand as well.

“Give ‘em hell, Ms Haruno.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another one of her blushes he liked so much taint her cheeks as she took a seat and readied herself with a subtle, sincere smile gracing her lips.

Madara raised his baton while Sakura steadied her bow above the strings of her cello. They shared one last look, the cellist looking up at her maestro for guidance and the maestro giving her a tiny smile of approval. He nodded to his entire ensemble.

As the music enveloped the large concert hall, Madara could see Sakura sway in her seat, eyes closed and completely surrendering herself to her instrument. He knew in that moment that she was gone now, transporting her mind into whatever utopia she conjured up whenever she let go and allowed her music to simply take her away.

As easy as it was for him to get and hold her attention, the maestro had to begrudgingly admit that music still seemed to be the only thing able to ensnare her in a way he could not. He was going to have to change that soon enough, he decided.

But for the time being, Madara let her be. His protégé was lost to the world now, anyway.

[a-damson-in-distress]

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