#MadaSakuWeekEND2019

[kizioziki]

２７，２８，２９

日本語で失礼します。この度は素敵な企画を、madasakuweek（@madasakuweek）様、ヨミガエル(@yomi-gaeru)様、本当にありがとうございます。とても楽しく参加させていただきました。12月27日、28日、29日と3日間にかけての各お題の投稿でしたが、用事があり３つを先に投稿をしてしまうことをお許しください( ;∀;)そして、その３つのお題はとても楽しく描かせて頂きました！！本当にありがとうございました。英語を読み解くことが困難であったため意図した内容を描けていないかもしれません。その際はコメントしていただければ削除致します。申し訳ありません。そして、この企画は沢山のマダサク好きに知っていただく素晴らしい機会だと思います。この萌えを沢山の人と共有できたらと思います！！(*^^*)個人的に一番楽しかったのが、同年代の嫉妬をテーマが好きでしたｗｗこれからもマダサクを沢山描ければと思います。そして皆さんの描かれる素晴らしいマダサク美味しくいただきたいと思います///本当にありがとうございました！！楽しみます！！

[madasakuweek]

(A special thank you to @yomi-gaeru​​ once more for providing the art for this beautiful poster!)

The prompts are finally here!  These are the prompts you all voted for. I’ve tried to arrange them in a way that I feel flows well, so hopefully that works out for you!  As a reminder, you do not have to use all the prompts for any given day.  You are also allowed to mix and match prompts from any of the days.

Day 1 (27/12)

Soulmate AU

Things Whispered in the Dark

“You think I’m in love with you?”

Day 2 (28/12)

Yandere AU

Possessive

“You belong to me.”

Day 3 (29/12)

Same-Age AU

Jealousy

“Your ego knows no bounds.”

More information regarding the event can be found in the Rules.  If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask!

[an-ambivalent]

Wrongly Convicted

This is my late post for day 2 for MadaSaku weekend hosted by @madasakuweek​

Pairings: Madara & Sakura 

Prompts: Yandere AU & “you belong to me.” 

Word Count: 1.6K 

Warnings: As this contains yandere themes, this work contains behaviours and actions that can be triggering and uncomfortable to read. Specifically, manipulating behaviour, death, and brief mentions of other dark themes. Read at your own risk. Lastly, I do not condone this behaviour. 

If there are any other trigger warnings you think needs to be included, please let me know and I will change it. Also, fair warning, I’ve never written for MadaSaku before, and I usually don’t write character x character pairings so this might be kinda shitty? 

Synopsis: For eons, souls who end up in the Bad Place get tortured for eternity through the classic old-fashioned ways: being burned, having tiny spiders crawl out of their eyes, maggots ingesting their internal organs, and so on. Madara, the devil who reigns at the top of the hierarchy of the Bad Place, decided to try a new way to torture few subject souls who end up in the Bad Place. His plan was to pose a facade of the Bad Place as the Good Place and let the foolish humans believe they had ended up in what they believed to be heaven, and then proceeding to torture them emotionally for the next one thousand years. What he did not expect was that one of his so foolish subjects had been placed in the Bad Place accidentally, and for her goodness to sweep him off his feet. 

This work is inspired from the show The Good Place. 

Soft jade hue eyes stared into a pair of onyx eyes, that offered a false sense of comfort and reassurance, and scrutinized her with a certain inkling, promising to deliver her personalised version of hell. 

“Sakura Haruno,” he voiced louder than necessary, as he flicked through her file. As he did so, Sakura shifted nervously in her seat and gave him a strained smile. 

“My name is Madara Uchiha, I’m your neighbourhood creator. Congratulations for being one of the saints on Earth, you’ve ended up in the Good Place,” Madara said, grinning at her. 

Sakura took a few moments to ponder over the implication of his words while she examined him. Her gaze lingered on his canine teeth that were visible due to his wide grin; they appeared to be larger than what one would imagine on a heavenly being -- almost as if they were fangs and their purpose was to devour living beings. She felt goosebumps rise at the nape of her neck for a strange reason. 

It suddenly dawned upon Sakura that she was in an unknown place, in front of an unknown being. So, she chose her words carefully, and opted to just question, rather than respond. 

“The Good Place?” 

“It’s where those who were good during their time on Earth end up. See, there’s a point system; each action of yours has a consequence. By the end of your time, if you get enough positive points you end up here, in the Good Place. If not, then you know you go to the bad place.” A pause, as Madara waited for Sakura to digest his explanation. 

Sakura reflected on his words carefully, and realised that it did make sense. She never leaned strongly towards one religion’s belief, and as far as afterlife shenanigans went, she did not think about them often either. Sure, there was that once in a while curiousity of life after death, heaven vs hell, or just death itself being the ultimate end, but nothing more. She tended to focus in the present, and made decisions that aligned with her values. She had studied and worked hard to become a doctor because she wanted to save lives and help others as much as she could. She did have her mean moments, but overall, she knew she was a nice enough person who cared genuinely. So it was not that surprising she did end up in this Good Place. 

She nodded to signal Madara to continue with what he was going to say. 

“Do you remember how you died?” 

“I recall the events briefly, but not much of it. Can you tell me?” That was a lie; she did recall, but she simply wanted to make sure.

Madara shrugged before he opened up her file to enlighten her. 

“You were bitten by a Sydney funnel-web spider during your sleep, and since they couldn’t you get you to the hospital in time, you died,” he stated. 

“Ah, I recall that,” Sakura replied, while in fact she did not recall that. She practically lived in the hospital, so how they did not get her to the hospital in the time was baffling. More so, that a spider was written to be the cause of her death, when spiders were not a threat in the area she had resided in. 

“Yes, it’s a shame since you were so close to finally closing in on the deal for that $1 million house, and having a breakthrough in your real estate agent career,” Madara said in pity. 

“It is,” Sakura agreed. The temptation for her eyebrow to twitch was strong, but she held back whatever expressions she wanted to make out of annoyance. Sakura was a doctor, one who worked in public services and volunteered more than what her body could handle at times; she was not a lying real estate agent who thieved people off their money, and each other, more than what they were worth. 

And that was the first time Sakura realised that she had been mistaken for someone else who shared her same name, and she was in fact not, in the Good Place. 

                                                           ****

So far in regards to his experiment, Madara was having the time of his life. Posing the Bad Place as the Good Place, and leading his experimental human subjects to believe they were in heaven, when in fact, everything was going wrong for them which tormented and agonised them, was incredibly entertaining for him to experience. The distressful expressions, the anxiety and stress they radiated off as their mental health eventually deteriorated, it left a delicious taste of human misery lingering in his mouth. 

Everything was going smoothly, except there was one enigma: Sakura Haruno. 

Madara had taken extra caution to cultivate an environment that would lead the deceased humans to believe they were in their own heaven, but it would hold elements of things they absolutely despised and feared. 

From Sakura’s profile, the real estate agent, she was claustrophobic, loathed reading and feared needles. So, he had made sure that in her dream small home, the rooms in the house would have less space -- almost with a suffocating feeling to it, by having many rows of shelves that held books. And not just any books, medical books to remind her of her failure of not becoming a doctor like her parents wanted her to be, and then they had ridiculed her for failures by cutting all ties with her. There were various sizes of needles displayed as a decorative piece across the walls of her living room.

Every time he visited her, he expected her to be breaking out in sweat, and feel the sensation of her nerves knotting her stomach and feeding on it, and relishing in whatever emotional turmoil she would be experiencing. Instead of that expected outcome, he was always greeted with the sight of the doctor Sakura grinning at him in genuine joy, and raving about all the medical books that surrounded her home. She would welcome him warmly and happily, with a little joyful jump in her step, while passionately ranting about new things she learned, and how it fit in with the knowledge she already had. And unlike the other humans, she always went out of her way to give him a sincere welcome that was not accompanied by a fake smile which concealed her true emotions. Whatever he did to try and make her miserable in regards to the information on her profile, it seemed to have the opposite effect. It was concerning for him because that was not supposed to happen; she was supposed to be suffering and beginning to lose her sanity, not greet him in excitement and thank him, and leave him feeling flustered due to her gratitude. 

It was not long before Madara figured that something was wrong with the Sakura Haruno in his grasp. So, in order to appease his curiosity about her, and figure out how he could make her miserable, he began to spend more time with her, and watch her. 

He wasn’t the only one. 

On the days and nights, and the times in between, when Madara watched Sakura, he learned many things about her. One, she was opposite to what her personality was described as on her profile. Instead of being self-centred and greedy of her possessions, she was selfless and giving. She, unfortunately, reached out to the other suffering humans and listened to them, cared for them, and made them feel better. He learned that she was opposing him by lessening their suffering, instead of letting it worsen which was the purpose when someone ended up in the Bad Place. Second, rather than feeling uncomfortable with the little space in her home and being bothered by the needles and the books, she found comfort in them -- she found comfort in the home provided for her, which was not how it was meant to be. Third, he realised he wasn’t the only one who watched her. 

After enough observation, it did not take a genius to realise that the Sakura he had come to claim as his soul to torture, was in fact the wrong Sakura. The one he was given, evidently belonged to the Good Place, because there was no chance that someone with her personality would end up as his. She was simply too pure, too beautiful, too perfect -- any filth from the Bad Place could easily taint her. 

Madara was the only one who could protect her. And so, he did just that. 

One of his other assigned humans had been a harassor. Each time a woman showed him an ounce of kindness, he would take that as a welcoming sign. Given the support he had received from his angel Sakura, it was no surprise he repeated his shitty behaviour. He had broken into her home in the middle of the night, except, instead of getting the chance to do something to Sakura, he was greeted by Madara. Instead of his usual appearance which consisted of shorter hair, more humane features, and in a tux that made him look -- well not the devil that he was to not scare humans, he had unleashed his authentic demon. His hair was messy and long, making him look bigger and more intimidating; his horns that sprouted out his head were visible and black. His eyes glistened a dangerous crimson in the darkness of the night. The last thing that the guy saw before he his inevitable demise, were Madara’s long claws that swiped down at him, and scooped out his soul from his body. 

As Madara clutched the struggling and pathetic soul of the harassor in his hands tightly, he glanced back to see Sakura staring at him with wide eyes etched with fear, and trembling and gripping her sheets tightly. She was covering her mouth with her hand, feeling horrified due to the scene she had just witnessed, and how easily Madara had just killed someone. 

He turned to her fully, and stared at her with a possessive gaze. 

“You belong to me,” Madara voiced, as he loomed over her. “I won’t let anyone else hurt what belongs to me.” 

[vesperlionheart]

For the writing prompt if you feel inspired! Moda Operandi series, the eleventh dress (with the flowers and vines). I get nature/fairy vibes. MadaSaku :)

The Black Bull  @madasakuweek Rating T for fantasy violence and language  [Read Full here on AO3]

All the motherless girls in her village went to Baba’s house to learn housekeeping, and those with enough favor stayed to practice another skilled craft, but the most favored of all were taught her magic ways. In this manner did Sakura and two other motherless girls, both older than here by several years, come to learn the ways of simple magic.

When Baba grew too old to see the end of her nose she sent out all the girls except her favorites, saying that with her last days she would spin their red threads of fate for them. In this manner did the old woman gather the wool, dye it red with her blood, spin it on a wheel, and braid it three times over for each of the girls.  

When she was done she tied the string around each girl’s pinky and told them their threads of fate had been tugged, and who was meant for them would feel it. Whoever comes to their gate to inquire about the ‘nagging magic’ was for them and they should go without complaint. 

Each of the girls had their reservations, but after the first night when a handsome prince in a carriage pulled by four white horses arrived to inquire after Konan, those reservations evaporated like a dream. The next night a famous knight on a strong bay steed and wearing silver armor came to call on Ino and inquire about the nagging magic that drew him to her door. 

Another night came and went without Sakura’s suitor, but she dreamed madly in anticipation. On the fourth morning there was a visitor at her gate inquiring about the ‘nagging magic’ he felt coming from her home. But when Sakura ran to greet him, she found no noble prince or gallant knight. A large, black bull with four curling red horns that matched his pinwheel eyes stood at her gate, towering over the edge with his abnormal size. 

“It came from me,” Sakura weakly admitted, showing off the red yarn tied to her pinky finger. “But I do not know how it would come to you, good sir.” 

As fearful as Sakura was, she knew she could not go against the last of her baba’s magic and reject her suitor. To go back on such magic would be disastrous no matter how frightening the bull appeared.

The bull leaned over her fence and sniffed at the red thread on her finger, recognizing the magic for what it is. “It seems I must claim you. If you’ll have me, your father will never be in want of meat for the rest of his days and I will always offer you the first of my bread so long as you dine at my table.” 

So close Sakura could see the cuts and scars that decorated his face, neck, and body. He was a massive creature that was as old as he was powerful. 

“Please let me bid my father goodby and we’ll be off,” Sakura weakly answered. 

[ingridmunizart]

Same age AU!

[nanawritesstuff]

of peace and devotion (nsfw)| December 28th, MadaSakuWeekend 2019

@madasakuweek​ thank you for organising and motivating us all to write!! I know I’ve been lazy, and this weekend truly stirred the madasaku pot and had me cooking!

prompts, December 28th: yandere au, possessive, "you belong to me" Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: MadaSaku 

Rating: 18+/Explicit 

Word Count: 6947

Summary: Soulmates don’t mean much to Sakura, who’s never fallen in love. After she catches her boyfriend cheating, she wonders if she’s really meant for love. What will she do then, when it quite literally stumbles through her door? | sequel to of war and peace

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, mild language, OOC behaviour, modern au, hints of very soft yandere behaviour...if you squint, cliche, Sakura deserves a soft Madara!! I'm just cold and lonely leave me to my soft things!!

a/n: that was the most cliched summary I’ve written in my life, this is what happens when you watch too many kdramas

In Sakura's world, at this very moment in time–the term soulmates holds very little meaning.

As she steps through the doors to the elevator, grocery bag in hand, her mind recalls the unpleasant events of the previous week. The week itself had started out like every other one; early shifts, her usual patients, nothing too unusual apart from a few bumps here and there that she had no trouble dealing with. And now, on this chilly Tuesday, she gets to be home on Christmas Eve. 

Alone. 

This was the one unexpected bump in her plans. Something she hadn't even thought of, so she couldn't have planned for it–to catch her boyfriend of six months in the break room with his mouth glued to the new nurse's neck. She had stood there, watching them go at it for a whole minute before Ami had spotted her and shrieked. It was only the dawning horror in her eyes as she heard Sasori stammer out his pitifully weak excuses that told Sakura the girl hadn't known about the handsome redheaded doctor's girlfriend: her, Haruno Sakura.

Something Sasori must have been only too happy to take advantage of, she's sure.

That is why Sakura had accepted her tearful apologies with a stiff smile and continued on with her day. Ino, as soon as she found out, dragged her to the cafe, attempting to coax out the tears and curses with cold doughnuts–a reaction that just wouldn't come. That particular bit was reserved for her evening shower. Sakura was sad, yes and quite disappointed with how things turned out. Their relationship, while far from perfect, had been important to her. She had been trying to meet his expectations since before they even started dating but Sasori's nitpicking never ended; his complaints about her working too much had been increasing by the day. He also thought they weren't having enough sex. 

'I guess he went fishing,' she thinks with only a slightly bitter sigh. They were never going to last, and she should have accepted it sooner. But it had been comfortable. It had been safe. And now it's over. All her life, she’s felt as if something’s been missing. As if she’s forgotten something, as if she’s been waiting for something to come back to her.

She realizes she's been standing in front of her door for more than a few minutes, and the sound of a shuffle reaches her ears, drawing her eyes towards it. Eyes the deepest shade of dark ink, brows furrowed in concern and a slender mouth curled into a gentle smile. 

"You've been standing there for about five minutes," he says in lieu of a greeting. She blinks rapidly, shaking off the melancholic energy and smiling back at her neighbour. 

"Itachi-san! I see you've got the evening off." She eyes his sleek jacket, sniffing as the subtle notes of his familiar cologne reach her. The plastic container in his hands looks out of place in the impeccable image he makes. "Off to see Izumi-san?"

"Ah. Our families are finally having dinner together," he divulges with a nervous little smile before holding the box out towards her. "And these are for you. I received the batch yesterday." 

"Gingerbread cookies?" she guesses, her eyes lighting up at once as if she's been handed the one ring to rule them all. "Thank you. Your uncle is an angel."

"Just make sure you actually eat something before opening those bottles," he says sternly, with a pointed look at the wine bottles in her grocery bag. Sakura can't help but laugh nervously and shift the bag out of view in a futile attempt at hiding the contents from view. “And please don’t call him my uncle.” 

"But he is your uncle, isn’t he? Also, don't tell Sasuke? You know he'll nag. And send Naruto." 

"Alright. Only because I know you need space. Just take care and text one of us if you need anything. I'll be crashing at my parents'." He gives her a supportive pat on the back before continuing on, and Sakura adores him for trying. Itachi has been worried about her since she told him about The Break-Up, and he's also the only one who understood her when she said she felt more relief than sorrow. 

"Will do. Good luck, I hope you have a wonderful evening," Sakura calls out after him before unlocking her door. Stepping into the darkened entrance, she fumbles for the light switch as she slips out of her shoes, wrestling with her puffy. Her apartment is completely silent, and it bothers her less than she thought it would. With a silent apology to her worrywart neighbour, she starts looking for the wine opener. 

She does break into the box of cookies first. One of the small traditions she looks forward to every Christmas since she was twelve. The first time she tried these was in 6th grade when Sasuke brought some to class. One bite and she begged her grumpy friend for some every single year. His uncle bakes them for the entire family and ever since he found out how crazy she is about them, he makes sure to send some for her too. 

Two glasses in, she's pleasantly buzzed and curled up in her soft blanket, her laptop open on her lap. The first Harry Potter movie plays on the screen, and it reminds her of Sasori and how he hates the entire series. If he had been here, he would have insisted on watching something she has very little interest in herself. It's alarming how she's finding more pros to ending things with him by the hour, but than can only be a good thing now that he's out of her personal life.

The forty text messages from him are going to stay unread. 

Just as she's contemplating getting another snack before she starts the second movie, the doorbell rings, and at first, she thinks she's imagined it. It's 12:04 on the clock, and if Ino had been planning to drop in at midnight, she would have texted first. It rings again, and Sakura starts to feel uneasy. There's a series of heavy, hurried knocks on the door. 

'Please, please don't be Sasori-'

"Oi, Itachi! It's freezing out here, open the fucking door!" 

And there's the magic word. Itachi doesn't give his address out to people he doesn't trust, and with how familiar this stranger seems to be with him–it's probably not a serial killer. A peek through the peephole shows unruly ebony strands, and with a deep breath, she opens the door just a crack. There is little point in the cautiousness as the stranger stumbles through the door, trembling violently as he nearly runs her over.

"Took you long enough! I really need to take a-" The man pauses as he finally stands up straight, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and the girl staring at him in concern. "Uh-you're not Itachi."

"Definitely not," she confirms dryly, crossing her arms over her chest, just tipsy enough to not feel self-conscious about her fuzzy pyjamas and an oversized sweatshirt. She has no idea who he is but Sakura has spent enough time with the Uchiha siblings and their relatives to know one of their clansmen when she sees him. "I'm his neighbour."

"Right, definitely prettier than him. Sorry. Fuck. Oh-sorry about that too," he mutters, a slight flush spreading over the high point of his cheeks. His sheepish tone contrasts greatly with his roguish look. Wild, dark hair that falls to his back. A black leather jacket that does little to hide his well-built form, and unusually deep-set eyes that stay strangely focused on her even as he squirms with discomfort. Her heart races, making her wonder if it's the alcohol or his cologne that's hitting her so hard. "I'm...just gonna go." 

"Itachi's not home," she blurts out. "So, um."

"Oh," he sighs. His shoulders slump and she can't help but sympathize. "My bad. I should've checked." 

"Yeah. Well, if you need to, you know." She points towards the hallway leading to the bathroom, and he blinks in slight confusion before he gets it. 

"Are you sure?" he waits for her nod before he sighs once more, this time with relief, and begins to tug his boots off. "Shit, thanks. I'm really sorry to intrude, I just really need to-"

"Not a problem. It's right down the hallway, first door on the left!" she cuts in with a slight laugh, closing the front door as he hurries off. Just as she thinks to text Itachi, she realises she doesn’t have a name. 

She probably shouldn’t trust a stranger this much, but she reasons that it’s Itachi she trusts, so it should be fine to flop back on the couch and resume her drinking. 

Light footsteps indicate the not-a-complete stranger’s return, and Sakura turns to study him over the back of the couch. He seems calmer now, looking around her apartment curiously before he turns to smile at her. 

“Thanks again. I probably would’ve-if you hadn’t-yeah. Thanks,” he flushes slightly at the sight of her trying and failing to hide a grin before he looks over her head at the coffee table. “Wait-are those Izuna’s cookies?” 

“Itachi’s uncle? Yeah,” she affirms with a dreamy smile, reaching for another treat. He makes a weird face at her words. 

“Yeah. His uncle.” She cocks a brow at his wince. “Right, I’m-his brother. Madara.” 

Sakura can’t quite describe the jolt she feels at his name, and tries to ignore it as she takes the hand he holds out. His palm is warm and dwarfs her own, curling around it gently. Something in her shakes and she wonders if she’s always been so nervous around good-looking men she didn’t grow up with. 

The name is a familiar one though, and she's sure it was Shisui who mentioned it. It explains how young he looks–Madara and Izuna are cousins to Itachi and Sasuke's father, born to a father who married quite late, at least according to the older generation's standards. It had the whole clan in quite a tizzy, according to Shisui. She's also sure she isn't supposed to be privy to clan gossip so she's going to keep her mouth shut.

“I’m Sakura.” 

He smiles at that, his eyes softening in the dim light of her living room. “Of course it is.” 

Her cheeks feel strangely warm and she feels like a fool, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 'But,' the voice in her head that sounds a little like Ino's soothes her. 'Look at him. He's beautiful.'

"So, that makes you the other uncle." 

"Ugh," he groans before doing an abrupt turn and smirking wickedly. "So that makes you the girl Sasuke wrote that poem for when he was eight?"

"Why do you know about that?" It's more demand than a question, but Sakura really doesn't bring up that long-buried memory unless it's for the specific aim of tormenting Sasuke.

"Who do you think helped him write it?" he taunts, snickering at her startled expression. 

"And to think I'd been so impressed with the big words." Sakura shakes her head with an air of exaggerated disappointment. 

"Well, I'm glad to see I got most of it right," he shrugs, the tips of his ears reddening tellingly. "If it’s any consolation, I'm sure he knows them now...I think."

Her responding laugh is cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing again, and they both look at each other as if expecting the other to have expected it. Madara shrugs and she moves to the front door, standing up on the tips of her toes to look through the peephole. Really, what's with her home attracting unexpected guests at–

She whirls around in a panic. 

“Everything okay?” he asks quietly as she rushes back, looking like she’s going to throw up. 

“Um, yeah. No. I don’t know. It’s my ex.” 

“An ex you want to see...?” he trails off.

“Absolutely not,” she mutters, pressing the heels of her palm to her eyes. She can feel a headache coming on with the new arrival and honestly, it is so very like Sasori to drop in without asking, expecting her to be okay with him ruining her night. Madara watches her freak out for a few seconds before nodding resolutely. 

“Okay. Leave it to me.” Sakura makes a grab for his arm as he moves towards the door, trying to tug him in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” she hisses.

“Well, I owe you one. And I can’t just leave you to deal with an ex you clearly don’t want to see–especially at this time of the night,” he explains easily, trying to tug his arm from her grip. He tries to uncurl her fingers from where they’re digging into his bicep, and she nearly jumps when their hands touch once more. It's only now that she realizes how close they are, and that she's nearly hanging off his arm in an attempt to stop him from opening the door. "Hey, it's okay. I'll take care of it."

He looks back to wink at her before bending over to slide his boots on, and Sakura has to nearly tear her eyes away from the ridiculously appealing sight. He reaches the door and unlocks it deftly, and she's thankful for him looking away, because that was nearly devastating enough to make her forget about why he’s answering her door. 

Then she hears the one voice she absolutely did not want to hear again, at least until she goes back to work tomorrow.

“Saku-you’re not Sakura,” she hears Sasori say, and she can imagine his disgruntled expression with perfect ease.

“Definitely not,” Madara says in an echo of her own words, and she can’t help the subtle smile that stretches across her mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Who are you?” 

“None of your business.” 

“It is if you’re at my girlfriend’s house at this time of the night.” 

At that Sakura steps up next to Madara, crossing her arms in annoyance and trying not to blush when Madara slides his arm around her. He keeps his hand on the curve of her waist, his touch gentle and loose, but mostly reassuring. It also serves to annoy Sasori greatly, who looks like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. 

“Ex-girlfriend. What do you want?” she snaps. She's sure he didn't leave anything at her place.

“Sakura, who is this?” 

“Like he said, it’s none of your business.” She shivers a little and Madara tugs her closer, moving his hand to rub it over her arm in quick, light movements. She's a little amazed at how warm he is and quite upset that she has to stand in the cold because Sasori can't speak quickly enough.

"Um, well, I was just at a party at Hidan's." Who happens to live nearby. "And I was just...wondering if I could crash here. I thought we could talk." 

For a long moment, Sakura can't quite bring herself to say anything. Not because she's considering saying yes–but because the nerve of this man has, not for the first time, left her speechless. 

"Sasori, we-"

"I know, I know," he grumbles. He then shrugs and grins in a way she had once thought was charming, leaning in slightly. "Your place was just closer than mine-"

"And no longer accessible," Madara cuts in. "Goodnight." He tries to move them back so he can close the door, but Sasori interrupts the motion with a hand on the door. 

"I'll take the couch!" Sasori pushes back against the door. "Sakura, babe, we've-"

"Alright," Madara steps out the door instead, forcing Sasori to take a few steps back. "Why don't have a little talk?" He turns to a confused looking Sakura, gesturing for her to go inside. "I'll be right in, sweetheart. Don't worry." He doesn't wait for her to reply, closing the door before she can say anything. Sakura stands with her ear pressed to the wood for over a minute, but doesn't hear a thing. She goes back to the couch, trying to figure out if this was really okay, but Madara comes back in before she can come to an actual conclusion. 

"Well, he's a prick."

"I realize that now," she says, looking him over for any signs of damage. "Sorry, did he give you any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. And you don't need to thank me either," he adds before she can even begin to come up with a way to express her gratitude. She also realizes that they're both alone once again, and despite how nice he seems, Madara is still a stranger. He looks a bit awkward, looking as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, or his hands which clench and unclench before he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

"Um, I should probably wait a few minutes before leaving...did Itachi say what time he'd be back?" 

"He said he's going to stay at his parents' tonight," Sakura tells him, wincing at his dismayed expression. "He hasn't given you a spare key?" 

"Shisui 'borrowed' it." 

"I'm so sorry." She thinks it's a little funny, but works to keep her face sympathetic; Shisui would be extremely amused by the current events.

"That's alright. I think I've intruded enough, so I should probably go."  

"Where do you live?" she asks, forehead wrinkled up at the thought of him having to make his way home in this weather. Sasori lives about ten minutes away–which is why she hadn’t been worried about him, she tells her guilty conscious. 

"...Senju apartments." 

"Fancy. Also on the other side of town," Sakura states flatly. "Did you drive here?"

"Ah."

"In a car?"

"...Bike."

"Right. Look," she begins, unable to actually believe she's doing this. "Just crash here tonight. I'll let Itachi know."

He looks taken aback at her suggestion, and shifts uncomfortably. "I wouldn't want to-"

"It's alright. I'm not comfortable with sending you off into the night," she reasons. "Plus, Itachi and Sasuke are practically family. That makes you...distant family. Sort of. Just-you're welcome to stay if you're comfortable with it."

Madara, who had begun to flush, looks extremely amused by the time she finishes. "Distant family."

"I said, sort of!" 

"Hah. Well," he rubs at the back of his head hesitantly. "I guess. You're really okay with it?"

"Really okay with it. One hundred per cent." She waits for him to take his shoes off before herding him towards the couch. "You sleepy?"

"Not really," he admits sheepishly, taking a seat, sitting a little too properly for this time of the night. 

"Great. You like Harry Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Wine?" 

"Yes," he laughs, accepting the clean glass she brings him.  

"Even better. It’s been ages since I had a sleepover. I'll bring more snacks."

The mildly awkward atmosphere dissolves quickly as they begin watching the movie, and Sakura's pleased to see her new companion loosen up and put his feet up on the coffee table. In an unexpected turn of events, she's found a new companion who's up for binge-watching the entire series, which is a little too ambitious for someone who has to work the next day. They open a new bottle as they express their mutual disappointment at the wasted potential of Tom Riddle, discuss their own Hogwarts house placements and the first time they read the books–before starting the third movie. 

Sakura groans as the light hits her face, turning it to bury her head further into her pillow. 

Her pillow, which seems unusually warm and smells like cedarwood. It's only when it shifts under her that her eyes fly open, and in her haste to spring back she tumbles off the bed. 

"Ow-" She rubs her backside in slight disgruntlement, glancing up at Madara only to see him yawning widely as he stretches like a contented cat; he smiles softly as he notices her staring. She can't quite get her brain to process what she's seeing–tan skin stretching over long, firm planes of muscle. His wild hair spills over her pillows and she's hit with a memory of nuzzling it, of knowing what it smells like. 

"Morning," he mumbles groggily, looking like he's ready to doze off again. 

'Ah, fuck.' 

"Morning," she replies in a tone a touch too shrill, jumping up when he just blinks at her. "We...uh..."

At her panicked expression, he seems to step out the doors of slumber completely, his cheeks reddening as he realizes she's struggling with their current state of undress. "Yeah. Uh, sorry?

"D-don't apologize," she says, trying to reassure him with a weak smile. "So! Breakfast?" 

"Sakura." He sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist and she looks away before she sees more than she can handle. The plain black sweatshirt that was snug on him falls to her thighs when she stands up, and she sees the way his eyes fall to the bare expanse of her legs before he forces them back to her face. "I-I'll take care of that. You okay with scrambled eggs? Tea? Coffee?"

"Um-yeah. Here I'll just..." She looks around the room, spotting his pants by the door. She can't help the way she tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt as she bends her knees, grabbing the jeans. "Here. And–coffee. What can I do to help?"

"You need to be at work by ten, right? You can go get ready, we've got time." It's 8:30 on the clock, but how does he know what time she needs to be at the hospital? Her baffled look must tip him off because he shakes his head in mock seriousness as he washes his hands. "You don't remember that conversation, huh?"

"I'm sure it'll come to me," she sighs. "Alright I'll...go shower." She misses his distracted nod in her haste to retreat to the bathroom, his eyes struggling to focus as she leaves him to his thoughts.

It all does, eventually, come back to her while she's in the shower. She’s grateful for the privacy because she’s convinced Madara would think her a lunatic if he saw her smiling so hard.

(flashback, nsfw content ahead)

"Madara?" she asks, lifting her head off his shoulder so she could look at him. They sit side by side, watching the credits scroll past as they contemplate moving. Sakura’s cuddled into his side, unable to muster the will to move away from his warmth.  

"Hm?"

"Have we met before?" The question has been on her mind since she first saw him earlier. He seems so familiar, but she’s unsure if it’s just because of his features, which do remind her of Itachi.

Her question is met with a slow blink as they both sit up a little straighter. "Could have. At birthday parties, maybe?" 

She purses her lips at the thought, trying to recall any interactions that might have taken place in the past. Madara watches her for a moment, as she chews on her bottom lip, before tapping her chin to interrupt the rough treatment of her mouth. She’s struck by the urge to flick her tongue against the pad of his thumb, and the thought has her squirming in embarrassment. He looks completely serious, while she’s over here thirsting. 

"Would you believe me if I said...I feel like I've been looking for you?" he asks hesitantly, flushing deeply when she looks amused. "Ugh, that sounds way cornier than it was intended to. I'm serious!" 

She sobers up at his firm tone, studying his features in the dim light of the lamp. She smooths his bangs away from his eyes, feeling slightly overwhelmed when he takes the hand tucking his hair behind his ear in his own, lacing his fingers with hers. 

"...I think I would," she whispers, mirroring his own tiny smile. "Then, would you believe me if I said I feel like I've been waiting for you?" She's only half-teasing. She feels at home, sitting next to him, arguing with him over fictional characters and concepts, watching him tap his feet to background music, eating cookies they're both shamelessly obsessed with. 

Her heart feels warm and full when he kisses the back of her hand.

"I think I would," he says, his smiling turning embarrassed and shy and so soft that she can't help but lean in and press her lips to it, her heart pounding madly when he melts into it, into her. He groans low when she climbs into his lap, tilting his head to deepen the meeting of their mouths. 

Desire drips into a pool at the bottom of her spine, where his hands splays and glides up to rest at the nape of her neck, tangling in messy, rosy strands. They kiss, and they kiss until her lips feel numb and her mind is muted for the first time in what feels like ages. 

The first grind of her hips against his feels electric and the helpless way he bucks his hips up is something she wants to see repeated. He clutches her to him, peppering hot kisses down the slender slope of her neck and she knows what she wants. "Be-bedroom."

He stills, tilting his head back until the tip of his nose brushes hers. His eyes are reminiscent of hot pools of obsidian, and she thinks she would be okay with drowning in them. "Are you sure?" 

"I want this." His mouth perks up even as he presses it to her jaw, winding her legs around his waist as he rises from the sofa with her holding on. Long fingers dig into the plump flesh of her rear, keeping her close and whimpering. 

"Wait. Are you sure?" 

His responding chuckle is edged with roughness, but not a straight enough answer. Once again, he manages to steal her breath before it can form words, sliding her lower against his body until she can feel him pressing into her, hard and straining. 

"Oh. Okay," she gasps, pushing back into it until he stumbles with a curse, pressing her back into her bedroom door as he kisses her deeply, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

"Keep that up and we'll never get to the bed," he groans, grinding into her urgently as she nibbles on the shell of his ear.

"That's fine, just-fuck." She loses her train of thought when his hands squeeze her ass warningly. 

"I'm not fucking you against a door," he says firmly, cutting her off with a quick kiss when she tries to protest. "Not the first time." 

And so he fumbles with the door handle as his teeth dig into her skin, stumbling in blindly. He tosses her on the bed, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt and sliding it off swiftly. Her mouth waters at this unveiling of his chiselled form, torn between reaching out to run her greedy fingers over it and reaching for her own clothes. He makes the decision for her by sliding his fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head. Warmth flushes down from her cheeks to her chest when she realizes she had forgone a bra earlier, leaving the upper half of her body exposed to his burning gaze. 

The moment his chest presses into hers, warm desire spreads down to the tips of her toes. It sinks into her bones as he kisses her temple, her cheeks, her lips. He carves a fervent path down her neck, teeth and tongue leaving hints of their efforts behind in blooming marks. The first curl of his tongue around a taut nipple has her gasping loudly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he splits his attention between her breasts. 

His journey around her body continues with kisses down the soft planes of her abdomen until he reaches her waistline. Her heart pounds madly as she lifts her hips, allowing him to tug her pyjamas down her legs, followed by her underwear. It leaves her squirming beneath his gaze until he bends over her to press his lips to hers. 

"You're so beautiful, darling," he groans, his hands gliding down her waist and back up. "Can I taste you?" He waits for her slow nod, smiling as he climbs back down, spreading her legs until he's found himself a spot between them. Sakura, who waits breathlessly for that first contact, nearly yelps when she feels his teeth sink into the tender flesh of her inner thigh instead. He soothes the spot with his tongue, and just as she settles down with the comforting motion she feels a languid lick along her slick sex that steals any capacity for thought still present in her head. 

Lifting up on her elbows proves to be disastrous for her heart: he locks eyes with her as he licks fervidly into her, his eyes crinkling and lips twisting wickedly. 

Sakura thinks she might have invited the devil into her bed. 

He doesn't let her move until she's dripping with her desire, pushed to the brink of madness and digging her heels into his shoulders. He's unfazed by her pleading, coaxing and tonguing but never letting her tip over. 

"Madara, Mad-fuck, please, please," she whimpers, one hand clenched around her sheets and the other smacking into the headboard. 

"You need to tell me what you want, babygirl," he laughs, drawing slow, torturous circles around her clit. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, please." She's practically begging but she needs this. She thinks she might actually wither away if he doesn't let her come. She feels him move, blinking her tears away so she can watch him slide his pants off and reach for his wallet. She's never felt more focused as she watches him tug the boxer-briefs down, freeing his straining erection and leaving her swallowing with one motion. 

Sitting up, she reaches for him as he tears the foil square open carefully, but he stops her with a hand curling around her wrist. He brings her hand up to this mouth, kissing the back of it and urging her back down. "Later." 

Any arguments she might have had are ripped away when she feels him at her entrance, rubbing the tip of his head against her slickness. When he pushes through her slit, tearing a moan from the depths of her throat, he kisses the corner of her mouth softly. She's convinced no one has ever felt this good, and no one ever will.

He's watching her, she realizes belatedly. She reaches up to cup his cheek, smiling faintly as he kisses her palm quickly, as he waits for her to adjust around him. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, dropping his forehead to hers, his muscles straining as he keeps himself from moving. She pulls him close, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his tense shoulders. 

"It's perfect." She pushes up, her walls squeezing tight and a startled groan escapes him before he pulls back and snaps his hips into hers–over and over again, aimed to tear her apart and make his mark in the very depths of her until she's shattering to pieces around him and trembling in his arms. He whispers softly, incoherently as he thrusts frantically, and she kisses him through his unravelling. 

She curls into a ball, after, nearly vibrating her contentment when she feels his fingers in her hair, rubbing at her scalp. Madara proves himself to be a cuddler when he moulds himself to her back, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. "Okay, I have a confession." 

She turns around in his arms, raising a brow at his conflicted expression. 

"I...have seen you before." 

"Oh?" she lifts up onto an elbow, watching him struggle with his words. She's filled with curiosity because she's certain she'd never seen Madara before today. He’s not someone she would forget.  

"Yeah. It was at your graduation party a few years back. The one you all had at Fugaku’s place," he tells her, his eyes unfocused as he thinks back to the time. "We didn't actually meet, but that was... I thought you were beautiful even then."

It’s strange to hear him address the older man so casually when he’s closer in age to her than Fugaku, but then they are cousins. 

"Oh." She rests her head in her palm. "Let me guess–and you've been smitten ever since?" She shouldn't tease when he's being so serious, but she's come to really enjoy his blushing responses–a reaction she doesn't get this time. Instead, he meets her eyes steadily, if a bit solemnly. 

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Madara!" She laughs, pinching his cheek, prompting him to smile as well. 

“You don’t believe me.” He sighs, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Mhm. I'm glad you got the wrong door," she whispers, feeling him smile against her skin. 

"Me too." She sighs and presses her face to his chest, snuggling closer when he winds his arms around her. They’re quiet for a while, and just before she slips into sleep, he speaks up.

"Sakura?" 

"Hm?

"Meeting you like this...being so close to you," he shifts slightly, pressing his lips to her hair. "Right now, I almost feel like...you belong to me." His admission is said so lowly that she nearly misses it. "And I belong to you. Is that strange?"

She smiles drowsily, tilting her head back to kiss him, soft and slow. "No, I think it's lovely." 

"I think you're lovely." She can’t keep her eyes open, drifting into the dark with warmth all around her. “And...I don’t think I want to let you go.”

“...Then don’t.” 

For the first time in a long time, she's smiling as she falls asleep. 

Sakura's still smiling as she steps out of the shower. Wiping her hand over the fogged up mirror, she squints at her reflection. She looks bright, despite a terrible headache, and she feels warm–on the inside and out; her skins nearly burns when she spots the marks over her collarbone and thighs.

Waking up to soft greetings, offers of breakfast and a very pleasant ache between her thighs–it's something new, but it's nice. Madara is nice. 

'And I'm fucked. Literally and figuratively' 

But is she? She may have started him by kissing him, but he more than reciprocated. She's never felt more loved, and that includes actual relationships. Then there were the mind-melting things he said. A bit intense, but they were both more than a little dazed in the aftermath.

She’s a little worried about starting something this soon after ending things with Sasori, but– and she may be speaking too soon, but she never felt this way with Sasori. The redhead had started their relationship, dictated most of it, and she had been okay with it, accepting that she’s not the sort to take charge when it comes to this stuff. 

But with Madara? She feels the sparks of excitement. She wants. So many things. So badly. She should, however, take it slow. A little too late, but she should still try. The man might be more than a little alarmed if he finds out just how into him she already is. 

Her stomach growls loudly as she follows the smell of frying bacon to the kitchen. And there he is, the man in question, arranging food on two plates, her coffee ready on the side. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, his pants tight around his waist–and backside–and Sakura nearly swoons at the sight of him.

“Are you real?” she asks, completely serious. 

“Real enough to have burnt the toast a little,” he answers with a sheepish grin. She hands him his sweatshirt apologetically, but he's unfazed as he pulls it on easily. 

She wonders if this is all very normal for him, and the thought stings a little.  

“I like it burnt.” She shrugs and pauses as she reaches the counter. She turns around to see him watching her; with a quick prayer to whoever’s listening and a hand on his shoulder, she rises up on the tips of her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” 

His fingers curl around her wrist before she can step out of his space, his eyes searching her face before he pulls her close. She should be alarmed by how natural it feels to have his arms around her and his lips coaxing her mouth open. In the light of the morning, he kisses her softly; once more, she’s filled with a yearning that makes her ache. 

In what’s quickly turning into an irritating pattern, her phone rings. A quick glance at the screen assuages her annoyance, but she still has to take a deep breath before answering. 

“Morning, Itachi. Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas. I just saw your text. Is Madara still there?” 

“Uh, yeah, he is.” 

“Alright. I’m nearly on our floor. See you in a minute.” 

“Wait-“

But he’s hung up already, and she turns to see Madara sipping at what looks like green tea, failing to hide his disappointment.

“I heard.” 

“Yeah,” she sighs, moving towards the entrance, then doubling back and pulling Madara into a quick, hard kiss that leaves him slack-jawed. “Sorry.” 

“Please don’t be,” he murmurs hoarsely, making grabby hands at her as she skips away. Beaming, she opens the door to Itachi’s suspicious eyes and boxes of what she’s sure are his mother’s cooking. 

“Yes, this is for you,” Itachi says before she can ask, moving past her to peer into her apartment. “Ah. There you are.” 

“Morning.” 

“Good morning,” Itachi looks from his uncle to Sakura, as if expecting more. “I’m going to go ahead get it out of the way–did you guys...?” 

“Yes.” 

“N-What!” Sakura squeaks, glaring at Madara when she spots the grin he tries to hide behind his cup. 

“Right. Okay. Well, I’m gonna go get some more sleep. Sakura, have a nice day at work. Madara, let's go. Bring the plate, I’ll return it later.” Itachi doesn’t seem to be asking, and Madara, to her surprise, does as the other man says. They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Itachi raises a brow and turns to leave. A tiny smirk curls along his mouth, and she knows she can expect a call from Shisui within the hour.

The second he’s out Madara’s arms around her and his lips are on hers.

“Have dinner with me,” he asks as soon as he pulls away, his eyes wide with hope. 

“Tonight?” she says, her answer clear when she kisses him again. Madara grins down at her, pulling her in for a hug that leaves her gasping for breath as she laughs.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Bonus: 

“He made you breakfast?” Shisui asks over the phone, for the third time. 

“Yes, Shisui. Honestly, it’s not like he gave me a manicure! Why are you so surprised?” Sakura glances around to ensure there aren't any eavesdroppers as she exits the elevator in the hospital. Ino has the evening shift, so she didn't get a chance to talk to her. She's not sure what she would even say. Her entire day had been a struggle with focus, but she had managed to keep the Madara-related thoughts at bay until the end of her shift.

And then she called the one person who could give her some insight.

“Because! Madara does not make people breakfast. In the rare occasions that he does spend time with them, he exits those occasions as quickly as humanly possible.”

“So he’s...” 

“Not a dick! Not exactly. He’s just had a hard time getting emotionally involved with partners. You’re sure it was him? Not Izuna?” 

“Yes, Shisui, of course, I’m sure!” 

“Okay, okay. Hm. I think...he might like you?” 

“Yeah?” she can't help but smile as she opens the door to her car, flinging her bag inside. 

“Yeah. Weird.” 

“Why is it weird?” 

“You’re going to be Itachi and Sasuke’s aunt-“ 

“Uchiha Shisui! Don’t even put that crap in my head.” It's way too early to even go there.

“Fine, I won’t. But what will you do about the crap in his head?” 

“I’m sure there’s nothing like that! At least, I won’t know until I talk to him. Which won’t be possible until dinner tonight. I also need his number. Which is why I called you.” 

“Ah, right. You were so preoccupied with his mouth that you forgot to even ask for his number?”

Sakura makes a silent vow to punch him the next time she sees him.

 “...I’ll text it to you. Are we telling Itachi you're planning on asking his uncle out?” 

“...not yet.” She's not sure how her friend would react. Itachi has always been a supportive presence in her life, but he didn't actually say anything this morning.  

“It's not like he'll be surprised!” 

“Probably. But let me talk to Madara first!” She gets inside and closes the door, leaning back and closing her eyes tiredly. 

“Fine, fine. If he’s an ass to you, let me know. I’ll...tell Izuna.” 

“I’m hurt. You won’t even kick his ass yourself?” she teases. 

“Not when I know I won’t escape with my limbs unbroken. Your new flame is a scary dude, you know.” 

“Please. Are you forgetting I’ve met the guy? He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.”

“...Madara...nicest...Is-is this what they call a Christmas Miracle?” 

[blacksoda-souji]

Dear @purple-possibilites.

Dear @yomi-gaeru.

To everyone of MadaSaku fans.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I’m having a good time.

The ring’s design were inspired by MadaSaku.

MadaSaku fansの一人として、イベントに参加できることをとても嬉しく思っています。MadaSakuweekend 2019は私に創作(AU)の機会を与えて下さいました。指輪でMadara and Sakuraの愛と絆を表現することができればなと思いました。

Thank you so much!

[kendochick-moor]

MadaSaku Weekend 2019: Day One: Things Whispered in the Dark

Pairing: MadaSaku Length: 5,000 words Prompt: Day One: Things Whispered in the Dark Genre: Modern AU, some supernatural elements, some soulmate elements (very light) Warnings/Squicks: mention of death, mention/light description of car accident, mention of hospital things, mention of Sasuke

AN: Thank you for organizing MadaSaku Weekend, @madasakuweek! <3 I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday! AN: There is no NSFW in this fic, though it’s implied via other characters’ dialogue. I would put it at a T-rating, but if anyone feels differently, please immediately let me know and I’ll re-tag this.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Sakura.

Ino shook her head, pointing at the painting in Sasuke’s living room. “I’m telling you, your birthmark matches his. You need to come see.”

Glancing around their friends gathered for Sasuke’s New Year’s Eve party at the Uchiha’s large family home, Sakura tried to catch someone’s eye to make an excuse to escape Ino’s grip.

“Ino, it’s really rude,” muttered Sakura. “He’s been missing for a long time, and Sasuke said his mom was finally starting to act like herself for the first time in years—”

Ino’s brows drew together but she relented. “You had to pull the sad!Mikoto card,” she huffed.

“Everybody will end up in the kitchen soon enough,” soothed Sakura, her eyes glancing at the painting of Madara again against her best intentions. “We’ll sneak back and take a look then, okay?”

“Fine. But you need to look at it.” “I will.”

With Ino pacified, Sakura let out a small sigh. That had been close.

<BR>

The snow outside was getting deeper the longer it fell, the temperatures dropping with it.

“Will you be safe to drive home?” asked Sasuke as Sakura put on her boots. It was close to two in the morning. The small glass of champagne Sakura had enjoyed as they rang in the New Year together had long fizzled from her system and she was looking forward to going to sleep in her own bed.

“It’s less than ten kilometers, Sasuke,” said Sakura. “If it wasn’t for the snow, I would have ridden my bike.”

“It’s the black ice I’m worried about.”

“I’ll take it easy. My phone’s fully charged,” said Sakura. “I’ll text when I get in.”

“Call,” corrected Sasuke emotionlessly.

Sakura paused as she was about to open the door. She turned to look back at Sasuke, a question on her lips.

“Please,” amended Sasuke.

A half-smile quirked Sakura’s lips.

“I’ll call,” she promised quietly, satisfied when Sasuke’s features relaxed.

“Ah.”

Sakura’s car started on the first try and she carefully made her way down the twisting drive to the main road.

Ten kilometers.

Easy.

<BR>

“Fucking. Deer,” hissed Sakura, holding her bruised, bleeding head.

Her seatbelt held her in place, but Sakura struggled to focus on what was in front of her. Without warning, the deer had leapt out of the forest that bordered the right side of the road and Sakura had swerved to avoid it. It quickly devolved into a spin on the—of course—black ice on the road, and now Sakura’s car hovered precariously on an ice ridge on the precipice of the ravine on the left side of the road.

Blinking to clear her blurry vision, Sakura patted the seat beside her. Her lips pursed. Looking down, she noticed her purse had been thrown to the floor, its contents spilled across the slush-mats. Could she reach that far? Wincing at the pain in her chest as the seat belt dug in, Sakura leaned to the side, reaching blindly for the phone. No.

The car leaned and creaked as Sakura tried again. Still no luck.

Taking a careful breath, Sakura undid her seatbelt and tried one more time.

“Got it,” she sighed with relief.

The car lurched with a groan. Sakura’s eyes widened.

With a grind of crushing metal, Sakura screamed as her car tipped and crashed down the side of the escarpment into the ravine below.

<BR>

Her hands raw, Sakura snarled as she reached for the next handhold she could find in the icy hill. Her broken leg and collarbone had her wheezing with each step, but she was determined to make it back up to the road.

“Fucking deer. Fucking ice,” she gasped, the jagged ice and rocks digging into her bloody fingers. “Fucking everything.”

“Hn,” agreed a low, velvety voice from above Sakura.

Surprised, Sakura nearly let go of the escarpment she was climbing. Thankfully, the man above her reached down and grabbed the back of her winter coat.

In the darkness it was impossible for Sakura to make out his features, but he must have been lying down on the roadside on his stomach to reach her. She was closer than she’d thought.

“Easy,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Sakura, clinging to the rockface.

“Can I give you a lift?”

“Let me get a bit higher,” said Sakura. “I hurt my shoulder.”  And everything else.

“Ah.”

Sakura’s exhale was a bit choppier as she tried not to laugh. “You must be an Uchiha. You sound like my friend Sasuke.”

“Hn,” agreed the voice.

As Sakura crested the precipice, she rolled over onto her back and took deep inhales to replenish herself and rest. In the distance she made out the dim glow of windows from a cottage set just off the roadside. It was surrounded by pine trees. The cold air burned her lungs, but she’d made it.

“Would you like a ride?”

“Yes, in a second,” said Sakura, her eyes closing with relief. “I just need a second… to catch… my breath…”

It had been a tough climb. She was still in pain. Her car was in ruins at the bottom of the damn ravine. But she was going to be okay.

“Miss?” “Mmmm…”

“Miss?... Sakura?” Sakura’s head throbbed as she drifted off in the snow, the stranger’s voice getting further and further away in the dark.

“... were summoned back for a reason… Sakura, keep looking...”

<BR> When Sakura woke again, it was in a chilly hospital room. The thin sheet did nothing to warm her as she struggled to open her eyes.

From the corner of the room she spotted a stranger sitting in a seat, his long, dark hair hiding his face from her.

“Hello?” asked Sakura over the quiet hum and beep of the machines.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” said the man, looking up. Shadows still hid his face, frustrating Sakura.

“I don’t need to rest. Where’s my car? Was it towed out of the ravine? Did anyone tell my friends I’m okay? What hospital is this?”

The man huffed and leaned back in his seat once more.

“Think of yourself,” he muttered. “For once.”

“Jerk, who do you think you are?”

“Hmph,” muttered the man, shifting in his seat.

The lassitude crept in around the edges of Sakura’s awareness, swiftly followed by numbing darkness.

“Who do you think you are,” Sakura repeated, her words slurred as she drifted off.

The man in the chair sighed.

<BR>

When Sakura woke next, late afternoon light filtered through the blinds in the hospital room and someone was holding her bandaged hands.

“Sakura?”

“Ino?”

Footsteps by the door caught Sakura’s attention as Ino pulled Sakura up into an emotional embrace. “We were so worried—”

A dark-haired man lurked by the doorway.

Wincing as she straightened, Sakura hugged Ino back and strained to see around her.

“Who’s…” “You didn’t call,” said Sasuke, leaning in from against the door.

Had Sakura been mistaking Sasuke for a stranger?...

“I was a little busy not dying,” said Sakura, voice rough.

“Don’t even joke about that,” snapped Ino. “When they pulled you out of the lake and you weren’t moving, I thought I was going to have heart failure.”

“Lake?” “At the bottom of the ravine. Your car sank beneath it. They’re going to make another attempt to drag it out tomorrow,” said Sasuke.

Sakura gently shook her head. “No, I climbed out. I was on the road. The man was there.”

Ino and Sasuke looked at each other.

“What man?” asked Ino.

“The man who brought me to the hospital, or called the ambulance,” said Sakura.

Above her, Ino sat down on the edge of the bed. She caught Sasuke’s eyes again, but Sasuke gave nothing away.

“What did he look like?” asked Ino.

“It was hard to see in the dark,” said Sakura. “He sounded a bit like Sasuke. His hair was dark, but longer and shaggier.”

“Like the man in the painting?” asked Ino carefully. Again she looked at Sasuke.

Sakura let go of Ino and sat back against the cushions.

“I didn’t imagine him,” said Sakura. Her words were terse.

“With the head injury, it could have seemed very real,” said Ino, playing devil’s advocate.

Sakura winced as her brow furrowed. “He seemed real, though.”

“Maybe you saw someone but the timeline got mixed up,” offered Sasuke.

“Maybe,” said Sakura, quieter now. “But why was he sitting in the seat when I woke up?”

“He was here? In your room?” asked Ino, voice higher.

Sakura nodded, confused.

A pain in her head had her closing her eyes. “Then again, all we did was argue.”

“How did the car end up in the ravine?” “I spun out on the ice when a deer ran out across the road,” said Sakura.

The visit lasted a little over an hour before a nurse invited Ino and Sasuke to collect their things and leave as visiting hours were ending.

<BR>

When Sakura woke in the morning, the man was back.

“You’re a creeper, aren’t you,” said Sakura. She sat up carefully and reached for her water. There was more light in her room that morning and she had a much better view of the man. His long, shaggy dark hair, his hooded eyes, his muscular frame in its long trench coat and his relaxed, deceitfully indolent air had her throat tightening. She knew this man, yet she didn’t.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a dumptruck,” said Sakura. “Other than that, pretty great.”

The man snorted under his breath before leaning to the side and resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the armrest of his chair.

“Who are you?” asked Sakura.

“You know who I am,” he said in his low, husky voice.

“Why are you here?”

“...”

“If I fall asleep again, will you disappear again?”

“Who knows?”

“You’re being a jerk again,” said Sakura.

“So you’ve said.”

“Does Mikoto know you’re here?” This time the man glared at Sakura, not answering.

“Show me your arm,” said Sakura, watching him carefully.

“Are you asking me to take off my shirt,” he asked smoothly.

“You’re such a dick, and yes.”

Holding his gaze, Sakura stared him down.

“You don’t fear me,” he said, curious.

“Nothing to fear from a ghost,” said Sakura.

“A ghost? Is that what you think I am?”

“Or a hallucination.” “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? I’m flattered.”

“I’m going to tell Mikoto I saw you.”

That shut him up.

Sakura arched a brow.

“She misses you,” said Sakura. “She may have only been your half-sister, but she practically raised you and when you disappeared she was devastated.”

Seething, Madara glared at Sakura.

“Everyone else is telling me I imagined you,” said Sakura.

Madra’s lips were tight as he watched Sakura.

“Are you real or not?”

“You’re asking your hallucination for validation?”

Sakura sighed, sinking back down into her pillows.

“You’re such a dick,” she muttered. She looked away from Madara and down at her own arm, covered by the sleeve of her hospital gown. “Why can’t I figure you out?”

“Maybe you’re not missing the obvious,” said Madara.

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty much sitting on top of it.”

<BR>

Closing the door to her home, Sakura leaned against the door. It was dark. Ino had given her a ride home from the hospital, and Sakura had wisely decided not to say another word about being visited by Madara again.

“You’re sure you’re okay on your own for the night?” Ino had asked.

“I’m fine,” assured Sakura. “And thank you for getting me groceries. The insurance company left me a message that they’re going to just write me a checque for the car. They’re arranging for a rental for me for the next few days while they finalize things with the police.”

“Fine, but if you need anything, just call.” “Promise,” said Sakura.

While her kettle boiled, Sakura replied to her e-mail and paid several bills online. Her week in hospital had started her year off on poor footing and she counted herself lucky that the accident hadn’t been worse. She had just poured her tea when she heard the knock at her door.

Being very careful, Sakura checked the window by the door and paused when she saw who it was.

“Are you stalking me,” asked Sakura, opening the door to see Madara standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

To her surprise, his expression softened. He reached down and pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt.

Sakura blinked and looked down at her own arm again.

“May I come in and explain?” asked Madara, offering the flowers to Sakura.

Her shoulders sagging, Sakura backed up and allowed Madara in.

<BR>

“Why do we have the same scar on our arms?” asked Sakura.

They sat at her kitchen table. Madara had helped Sakura fill a vase with water for her flowers and set it on a windowsill in her kitchen. Each drank tea, and a plate of cookies was shared between them. Neither had taken a bite.

“Some consider them soulmate marks,” said Madara. 

“That’s…”

Madara looked at Sakura knowingly.

“Mikoto noticed our marks matched. She became quite panicked that I would do something inappropriate.”

Sakura shook her head. “I was eighteen, and besides, you were barely around.”

“Only for special occasions,” said Madara. “But she became obsessed with it thinking it meant something. She went off at me one night. We were shouting at each other and I left. It was icy.”

Sakura stilled, the coldness seeping through her slowly.

“It was New Year’s Eve,” continued Madara. “My BMW spun out on the ice. It went over the edge, into the ravine—” “And into the lake,” murmured Sakura.

Madara looked up at Sakura and nodded.

Sakura lifted a hand to her mouth as her skin went cold. She remembered that night.

<BR> “No, I need to see for myself,” said Sakura.

“Okay, it’s okay, we’ll go see,” agreed Ino, looking at Sasuke in the passenger seat.

Tight-lipped, Sasuke glared out the windshield as they drove to the frozen lake.

“There,” said Sakura pointing. She could see the scar in the ravine where her car had plummeted over the edge. It was a kilometer away but the damage was obvious, broken trees and branches, overturned rocks and exposed roots torn up by her car’s descent. The recovery team, with cranes, divers and towing equipment, were on shore trying to drag Sakura’s car from the lake. Their breath fogged in the icy air and Sakura wondered how the divers were able to function in such frigid conditions.

“Something’s going on by the water,” said Ino, squinting.

Sasuke watched the divers’ hand signals then saw the emergency crew return to the tow truck and start pulling out another 1-ton hook and line. 

“... There’s another vehicle down there,” said Sasuke quietly as a diver submerged below the lake’s surface into the icy water once more.

Sakura’s smile was bittersweet.

“It’s a BMW,” whispered Sakura.

Ino looked at Sakura curiously while Sasuke stared at her in disbelief before a muscle in his jaw ticked and his exhale came out harshly.

<BR>

“Empty?” asked Sakura.

Her grip tightened on her coffee mug, Sakura stared at the screen in the physician’s lounge at the hospital where she worked. A newscast had footage of the old BMW being pulled from the lake.

“They aren’t sure what happened to the driver. It looks like he may have been ejected from the car at some point,” said one of Sakura’s colleagues. “They said it’s been under the lake for at least a decade. They’re going to organize a search in the spring to see if they can recover his remains.”

“... keep looking…”

Setting her shoulders, Sakura hurried to her locker to get her phone.

“Sasuke, is your dad there?... I need to talk to him.”

<BR> They parked the car by the side of the road and got out.

“You’re sure this is what you… were thinking of?” asked Sasuke.

Sakura nodded as she and Fugaku exited Fugaku’s police cruiser. The driveway was overgrown, but the small cottage surrounded by pines was exactly as Sakura remembered.

Fugaku pulled out his badge and went to knock on the door while Sakura and Sasuke waited by the car.

After a moment, an old man came to the door and after a quick introduction and flash of Fugaku’s badge, he invited Fugaku inside. Sakura bit her lip as she and Sasuke got inside the car again to wait it out.

An hour later, Fugaku left the house and joined Sakura and Sasuke in the car again. He started the engine and turned on the radio.

“Obito,” he said, as Sakura and Sasuke leaned in to listen. “Re-open the Uchiha Madara case. It’s a missing person case, not a suicide.”

<BR>

It was later in the afternoon and Sasuke had brought Sakura home and joined her inside for coffee. They sat at her kitchen table. Sakura forced herself not to react when Sasuke sat in the same seat Madara had chosen when he had visited her.

Sakura poured over her mental notes from that afternoon, based on what Fugaku had passed along to them (at their insistence).

“Madara made it out of the wreck, he made it to the cabin, and the old man looked after him until the spring?”

Sasuke nodded.

“And then he disappeared in the spring before the old man could help him,” said Sasuke. “He said Madara had amnesia. The storm had knocked out the power lines and he was off-grid anyway, so he was just waiting for the roads to open again in the spring to see if he could get Madara some help. But then Madara was gone.”

It was beyond frustrating for Sakura. Every time they got close to another clue, something sidetracked them or threw them off-course again.

Sasuke looked up at Sakura.

“Madara is the one you saw, isn’t he?” said Sasuke. “When you were…”

Sakura looked away. 

“Who knows what I saw,” said Sakura.

“What else did he say? Where else did you see him?”

At that, Sakura shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen him since.”

Looking to her kitchen window, Sakura stared at the flowers that continued to bloom in their vase. Keep looking.

What else had he said, thought Sakura, worrying her lip.

“When I was in the hospital,” began Sakura. “He was there. He said I was missing the obvious, that I was practically right on top of it.”

“At the hospital,” repeated Sasuke.

Sakura nodded. Then she jumped up in her seat, her eyes wide, her coffee splashing from her cup onto the table. She grabbed Sasuke’s arm and started dragging him to the door.

“We need to go to the hospital.”

<BR>

The minute they got there, Sakura flashed her badge and swiped an all-access pass for Sasuke from the nurses’ station.

“Put this on and act like you’re… you,” sighed Sakura, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“You were going to say ‘important’,” said Sasuke, smirking.

“Come on. We’re going to find out if my badge gives us access to the long-term ICU,” said Sakura, leading Sasuke to the elevators.

Sasuke followed Sakura, not asking any questions until the elevators closed behind them. They were alone.

“ICU?” he asked.

“Long term intensive care unit,” said Sakura. “And text your dad. Ask him to have someone on the force call our admin office and ask about John Doe-s who were committed in the spring, ten years ago.”

“Not the winter,” said Sasuke in realization.

Sakura nodded.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Sakura swallowed as she read the sign on the wall.

“Long-term ICU, to the left,” she said cheerfully.

Inside her chest her heart fluttered madly and she wondered if she was about to be sick.

“Are you alright?” asked Sasuke. His eyes narrowed. “You’re really pale.”

“I’m fine, c’mon,” said Sakura, swallowing down her bile.

“You don’t look fine,” said Sasuke, tight-lipped.

Sakura ignored him and pushed through the doors of the ICU. It was one of the quietest wards Sakura had ever visited, and the lack of activity immediately set Sakura on edge. Then again, the majority of the patients there were not expected to recover. They were comatose.

The nurses looked up and Sakura forced a smile and flashed her badge. Several nurses looked at each other, then at Sasuke, who followed Sakura’s lead and flashed the temp badge.

“Can we help you?”

“Looking for a piece of equipment with a particular setup,” said Sakura. “A nurse from peds suggested we try down here since we wouldn’t be bothering anyone… as much.”

“Let us know if you need any help finding it,” said one of the nurses.

“Thank you.”

Sakura and Sasuke looked around.

“Where do we start?” asked Sasuke.

A ping in Sakura’s heart pulled her feet forward before she consciously thought of it. She turned to the hallway on the right and started walking.

Sasuke followed with his usual, “Hn.” 

Together they peeked into each room of beds, often with six to eight beds each. None of the names matched what they were looking for, and the patients were much older. But something inside Sakura told her to keep going to a particular part of the ward. Soon she was skipping doors.

Sakura’s pace picked up the closer she got to the one door she wanted until she was jogging, her hair loosening from its knot the more she hurried.

“Sakura… Sakura!” called Sasuke as Sakura shoved her way through another door.

“He’s here, I know he is,” said Sakura, not looking back.

“Sakura, you’re setting yourself up for…”

Sakura had stopped at the next doorway and pushed it open. Inside lay six drape-enshrouded beds. Sakura approached the first and pulled back the curtain. These beds were all labeled ‘Doe, John’.

“Doe, John - One,” read Sasuke as Sakura stepped inside.

Sakura shook her head, moving to the next.

“Doe, John - Two,” read Sasuke.

Sakura shook her head again, moving on. She skipped the next two before pausing before the next bed, her hands shaking.

“Doe, John - Five,” read Sasuke. “Date of admission… March…. Ten years ago.”

But Sakura had peeled back the curtain and stepped inside, coming to stop beside the man who hadn’t aged in a decade.

The man who had, laughing, a decade before, kissed Sakura at his family’s New Year’s Eve party as the clock struck midnight, and been caught by his half-sister, who had thrown him out.

“Madara,” whispered Sakura.

With a small sigh, Sakura took Madara’s hand and sat down on his bed. 

“I told you I’d find you anywhere,” said Sakura. She smiled down at Madara, who lay there comatose, brushing his hair from his too-pale forehead. 

“Shit,” breathed Sasuke, watching Sakura and Madara.

Without another word, Sasuke walked back out into the hall and called his father.

<BR>

“According to the nurses, he had been found wandering at night and was looking for sakura trees for a birthday party,” said Sasuke, reading part of the Patient Log to Sakura. Once Sasuke’s family had arrived to investigate and arrange for a change in care for Madara, the hospital had released a copy of the patient records to Fugaku and Mikoto, Madara’s next of kin. They, in turn, had provided the notes to Sakura.

Now Sasuke and Sakura sat in a small waiting room off the main ICU ward, reviewing the patient history together.

“He didn’t know his name, just kept asking for sakuras,” read Sasuke.

Sakura’s smile was weepy as she listened to Sasuke.

“Are you okay,” he asked for the hundredth time.

“Just give me the damn—”

“You’ll just cry on it,” said Sasuke coldly, holding it out of Sakura’s reach.

Sakura swore at Sasuke but he ignored her.

“They said it was only after he was admitted to the hospital that his delirium got worse. They think it was his head injury. He was temporarily sedated while they performed a few tests… uh… brain scans, right?” 

Sakura pulled the papers closer and nodded. “MRI.”

“And they determined he had a massive concussion. They sedated him to give his brain a chance to heal.”

“Then what?” asked Sakura, when, a moment later when Sasuke didn’t continue.

Sasuke’s brows drew together. “It’s just routine maintenance notes since then. His doctor changed a little bit after the MRI, and it looks like the new doctor just kept doing what the old doctor did… I don’t see any more examinations. Take a look,” said Sasuke, passing the full report to Sakura.

It was then that Sakura noted the slim quality of the file. For a patient who had been in constant care for a decade, it was disturbingly thin.

“They never woke him up after his MRI,” realized Sakura aloud after less than a minute of reading.

Then Sasuke watched the frantic shaking of Sakura’s hands as she slammed the papers down on the waiting room coffee table. Her teeth were bared and her green eyes were furious and wild.

“They never read his file, so they never woke him up!”

<BR>

“This should be checked with his primary physician!” said the first nurse. “The primary physician has been dead for nine fucking years!” snarled Sakura.

“Then it should be reviewed with a new attending!” said a second nurse.

“I just did,” roared Sakura, turning on them like a demon in search of fresh blood.

At Madara’s bedside, Sakura had personally rolled over a care tray and begun calculating and adjusting the medications in Madara’s IV drip.

“I called Ino and Hinata and Tenten. They’re arranging for a physiotherapist, rehabilitation therapist, and massage therapist to come in starting,” Sakura glanced at her phone, helpfully propped up on the medical utensil tray. “Like twenty minutes, give or take. I already arranged clearance for them, and badges.”

“You know, he may still not wake up,” said Sasuke. It was genuinely gently delivered, but Sakura was hellbent on starting. 

“Or maybe he’s been stuck on his back for ten years, hearing everything that was said around him, feeling trapped in his own body,” snapped Sakura. “This is Madara. He is getting up as soon as he wakes up, and that means as soon as he damn well pleases, which means right fucking now.”

“With that in mind,” said Sasuke calmly. “Have you thought about how angry he is going to be about losing ten years?”

“Not my problem,” said Sakura curtly. She adjusted his IV and added another medication to it. “There. Now it’s a matter of waiting for this to filter into his system while the last of the bullshit filters out. It’s a wonder his kidneys didn’t fail with all this crap,” she muttered, looking over Madara’s patient chart. “By the way, Tsunade texted me back. She’s having a pair of independent medical auditors brought in to review all the patient files for the ICU ward patients. She wants to make sure no one else fell through the cracks.”

Sasuke looked at Sakura shrewdly. “So you want Madara out of here before the circus comes to town.”

“Exactly.”

Sakura leaned forward over her phone and set a stopwatch, then a timer. Then she stared at it, crossing her arms and legs.

Sasuke waited a full two minutes before asking, “Why two?”

“The stop-watch to see how long it takes for us to get a response. The second to time the periods between tests,” answered Sakura.

Sasuke nodded. “How about the one that tells you when to go to bed?”

“No sleep, just results.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed. “I think you should get some rest. You’ve been up for almost forty hours.”

“No.”

“How about a shower?” said Sasuke.

Sakura’s eyes snapped up to Sasuke, who gave Sakura a level look.

“... You keep spare scrubs in your locker.”

“I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t. Move,” ordered Sakura, standing.

Sasuke let out a low breath through his nose as Sakura stalked from the ICU ward to the staff change room.

With a glance at the ceiling for luck, Sasuke took a seat in the chair Sakura had abandoned and looked over at his uncle.

“She waited for you for ten years, you bastard. You better remember her when you wake up,” muttered Sasuke. 

With that, Sasuke propped his feet up on Madara’s bed, crossed his arms, and decided he could rest for a few minutes while Sakura went to get cleaned up.

<BR>

The next bit was a bit muddled for Sasuke.

He remembered going to sleep in Madara’s curtained-off part of the ICU ward. He remembered Sakura returning and yelling at him. He remembered his feet being shoved off the edge of Madara’s bed. He remembered Sakura yelling at him some more for falling asleep, and then Madara yelling at him for getting dirt on his covers, and then Sakura yelling that Madara was right, and then Sasuke had to move out of the way because Madara and Sakura were yelling at each other, and then they were holding each other, and then Sasuke had to leave really quickly because Sakura said something along the lines of, “You know that thing we talked about that night but couldn’t do?” and Madara said without a pause, “Yes,” and Sakura said, “Well I’m legal now.” 

“And that’s when you left?” exclaimed Ino that night, across from Sasuke at the coffee shop. “Yes,” asserted Sasuke, still a bit unsettled.

“Damn,” said Ino, leaning back in her seat. “Ten years of waiting. Could you imagine how much they must have wanted to just rip each other’s clothes off—”

“I don’t need to hear this right now,” interrupted Sasuke.

“I mean, and Madara was just trying to be a gentleman back then by avoiding Sakura until she was of legal age—” continued Ino.

“Ino—” said Sasuke quickly. “I don’t need to be reminded of—”

“But Sakura had decided that she was going for him. She knew what she was doing when she grabbed his belt that night at your New Year’s party when the lights went out and copped a—”

Sasuke’s knuckles paled on his cup as he stared at Ino with over-wide eyes, desperately begging her with his eyes to Please Stop.

Sasuke was saved by the vibration of Ino’s phone from her purse. As Ino read the text, Sasuke took a fortifying swig of his coffee and tried to forget the last two hours of his life.

“That was Sakura. She said she’s going to be busy for the next few days,” said Ino. “Do you think three exclamation points are too much for a ‘Congratulations on finally getting to bang your ex-sugar daddy’ message?”

Sasuke spat his coffee across the table.

“So about right then,” said Ino, hitting Send.

<BR>

That night, at Sakura’s home, Sakura rested her head on Madara’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her.

“Took you long enough,” he murmured, falling asleep. It had been a long and vigorous evening, and they would no doubt both need massage and physiotherapy in the morning from it, but they were happier than they had been in over a decade.

“I could finally hear you,” said Sakura, tucking a lock of Madara’s hair away from his face. 

“Hn? Hear me?” mumbled Madara.

“Mmm,” said Sakura. “Your whispers in the dark.” THE END

PS: I apologize for any mistakes, I wrote this in one go today and didn’t re-read /edit it before posting. Because it’s 3am. I may flesh out the NSFW portion(s) later before I post to AO3. Please vote in the comments with your yay/nay vote.

[lovestruckay]

[AO3]

After having an important confession interrupted by tragedy, Madara makes a promise to find justice for those lost. During his absence, Miyabi’s warning comes to fruition, leading to a desperate struggle for survival. (tw: graphic violence, death)

Happy MadaSaku Weekend! @madasakuweek

[nibbler747]

The House Party - MadaSaku Fanfic

Hello!  So basically I’ve been in awe of so many MadaSaku authors here, and I’m excited to write something to contribute.  I just adore Madara, and love him with Sakura.    I wasn’t going to write, cause I was sick, but last night at 9 pm, I decided to write something.  Ten pages later I produced something!  Please excuse the errors, I’ll be editing the document, but I didn’t want to miss the day!  Thanks so much for hosting this weekend!  I love all the MadaSaku content! @madasakuweek

Prompt: Things Whispered in the Dark

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991432

[jingmcastle]

To Dream and To Tell

@madasakuweek

Prompt: Soulmate AU, Things Whispered in the Dark

Warnings: A little angst only.

P.S. I don’t know about your time zones but it’s still December 27th here by the time I post this. 

To dream the encounter,

on the first, and every year after.

Until we tell the words,

That will bind my heart and yours forever.

She bolted out of bed with eyes wide and heart beating wild. Her own sweat felt cool as they raced down her skin, before tears began to pool down her smooth cheeks.

That dream… again…

No. Not a dream.

A nightmare.

Ever since she was six, ever since those dreamless nights started to play stories in her sleep. She had been dreaming of the same thing every year, on this specific date and time. Initially, she thought it was just a horrible nightmare, but when that same dream returned next year, and the year following that, her parents had to explain that it wasn’t just a bad coincidence.

No, the man she dreamed of, was her soulmate.

Please read the rest on:

Fanfiction.net: To Dream and To Tell

AO3: To Dream and To Tell

[olliya]

How popular is MadaSaku in context of other Madara’s and Sakura’s ships? Part 1

@madasakuweek​

For MadaSaku Weekend, in addition to fics, I wanted to make something different, something that always interested me. Wait for it, wait for it… statistics!! Ok, I know that this post has just lost 90% of readers this very second. Lol.

I’m not a popular author, but even I tend to get messages “why do you write madasaku, no one wants to read it anyway”. Organizing this event was a huge effort from the side of @purple-possibilities​ (thank you for that!!) and spurred me to look into the question just how popular MadaSaku really is?

I will break down this analysis into 3 parts: AO3 (coming today), ffnet, and an attempt on counting the real number of MadaSaku works (not so trivial).

I decided to write it in a really scientific (i.e. stiff, boring and indigestible for most) style in order to describe all my steps as accurately as possible. Every method of analysis has its limitations, biases and certain number of false positives and negatives that it generates. But I aim to describe everything precisely and point out all the weak points. This analysis was done as objectively as possible, and if there are any inaccuracies, I am more than happy to correct them.

With this preamble, let’s dive in!

Let’s start with AO3, because it is supposed to be easier thanks to the tagging system. The key word is, unfortunately, “supposed to”, because since I cannot write data-scraping scripts, I had to approach the problem manually.

The section below contains a detailed description of methods used. If you’re not interested in technical details, skip to Results.

Methods

After choosing a character, a menu appears on the righthand side of the page that allows the user to choose ratings, categories, etc. The same menu allows to see which relationships appear most frequently in the context of the chosen character (example shown in Figure 1.)

Attention: This menu doesn’t provide with neither Top Ten most popular ship for a given character nor with actual number of any of the ships listed, because:

a) Many ships listed in the menu involve platonic pairings (“&” relationships according to AO3 nomenclature) and while one can argue whether those are ships or not, the aim of this analysis was to find the prevalence of romantic ships.

b) Many ships listed involve characters different than the character of interest. For example: Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito is the third most popular pairing written in the fics that contain Uchiha Madara as a character.

c)  Not every author tags character in question when tagging him/her as part of a ship. For example: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara features in the above menu with 1173 fics (at the moment of writing this text). When the ship “Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara” is chosen through clicking into the tag, AO3 provides us with 1250 fic. I.e. in case of 77 MadaTobi fics, Uchiha Madara was not tagged as a character. Therefore, to obtain the real numbers of fics for any given pairing, one has to always click directly into ship tag.

The ships listed in the righthand menu can nevertheless provide orientation and hints about which ships should be inspected manually in order to get true number of fics for a given ship.

In case of Uchiha Madara the menu features only three romantic ships involving Madara, namely:

Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara

Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara

Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara

How to find out more ships featuring Madara?

I tried two approaches:

Method 1

I excluded one relationship from the list of ten most popular and iterated the search excluding the first most popular relationship only, the second most popular relationship only, and so on, together 10 searches.

During every search I noted the “new” romantic relationships involving Madara that popped up in the list.

In the second step, I excluded 2 most popular relationships simultaneously and again, searched all possible combinations, together 45 searches because it is combination without repetitions:

Again, during every search I noted the “new” romantic relationships involving Madara that popped up in the list.

When excluding 3 relationships I would need to perform 120 searches to cover all combinations. Therefore, I limited myself with searches: excluding 1st, 2nd and 3rd ship; excluding 1st, 2nd and 4th ship; excluding 1st, 2nd and 5th ship; etc.

All things taken together, this method proved to be very laborious, and didn’t bring expected results, i.e. “new” romantic relationships were showing up very rarely in relation to the workload.

Therefore, a different method was employed:

Method 2

I excluded increasing number of ships from the list of ten most popular relationships. I.e. I excluded 1st most popular ship and checked for appearance of “new” ships. Then I excluded first two most popular relationships (1st and 2nd) and checked for “new” ships, then excluded 1st, 2nd and 3rd most popular ships etc…

This method proved to be both efficient (i.e. new ships appear relatively quickly in respect to the workload) and much less error-prone.

This was therefore the method of choice for this analysis.

Figure 2. illustrates an example where the most popular ship (Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara) was excluded (Figure 2.a.) and a new ship (Uchiha Izuna/Uchiha Madara) appeared during the search. (Figure 2.b.)

Table 1 summarizes the romantic ships of Uchiha Madara found using Method 2. Data was collected on 22.10.2019. 40 most popular relationships written in context of Uchiha Madara were excluded sequentially, and new ships were noted in order of their appearance. The searches that didn’t brought any new romantic ship involving Uchiha Madara were omitted from Table 1. (for example: excluding 1st and 2nd most popular relationships didn’t bring any new romantic ship for Madara, therefore this search was not listed in the Table 1.).

Disclaimer: the order of appearance in Table 1. doesn’t necessarily reflect the ship’s popularity. Because of the fact that the list is composed using ‘exclude’ filter, the order of appearance is heavily influenced by which pairings are written together with which other pairing (as AO3 allows tagging multiple ships in one fic).

The list of ships in Table 1. was used to obtain final, numerical results for popularity of the ships of Uchiha Madara (see: Results).

Additionally, I manually checked popularity of several other Madara’s ships, and two of them (with Pein and with Kakuzu) ended up scoring high enough to be included in final results.

Same approach was used to find most popular ships of Haruno Sakura.

Sakura’s righthand menu lists 5 romantic ship involving Sakura herself, namely:

Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke

Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi 

Haruno Sakura/Uzumaki Naruto 

Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino 

Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Itachi

To find further ships for Haruno Sakura I employed Method 2 as described above. Table 2 summarizes the results.

Additionally, other ships of Sakura where manually examined, and ships with Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Obito scored high enough to be included in final results.

Limitations of the used method

The employed method of searching for popular ship has its limitations. Due to the mechanism of finding the ships to check for popularity (usage of ‘exclude filter’) it cannot be excluded that certain ships have been overlooked. Four such cases were actually detected through manual checks: Method 2 failed to show Madara/Pein and Madara/Kakuzu as ships qualified for checking for actual fic number, but when those ships were checked, their respective fic number was high enough to earn them 14th and 17th places among Madara’s most popular ships (see: Results). Haruno Sakura/Senju Tobirama and Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Obito scored high enough to be Sakura’s 20th and 21st most popular ship even though neither was detected via Method 2. This is entirely possible that certain other ships remained ‘undetected’ and therefore not included in the final results, but the risk of non-detection concerns mostly the less-prominent ships.

Due to AO3 tagging system, if a ship is tagged as “background” or “past” it will also be detected, and not differentiated from proper shipping fics. Possibility of tagging multiple ships in one fic causes collections of multishipping fics to be counted multiple times (which skews the numbers when percentages are concerned - see Figures 5 and 6). From this perspective, the relatively meager tagging system of fanfiction.net brings cleaner results.

Results 

Numerical values of fic numbers for every given ship were collected on 26.12.2019.

Romantic ships of Uchiha Madara are shown in Figure 3.

Romantic ships of Haruno Sakura are shown in Figure 4.

Discussion

Sakura is the third most popular Madara’s ship partner, and his most popular F/M ship, however it lags far behind the more popular “Founders Cluster” ships. Sakura is by far most popular F/M ship of Madara, next being OFC with 54 fic and Mito with 34 fics.

Madara’s fics are very focused on ships with few partners (Tobirama, Hashirama and Sakura), to the extend that various “exotic” ships rank high enough to appear in this breakdown (OC with 101 fics, OFC with 54, Reader with 41 and Harry Potter (LOL) with 10 fics).

Madara is Sakura’s eighth most popular ship partner (or seventh if you don’t count the polyship Sakura/Sasuke/Naruto as both Sasuke and Naruto feature already on the list as separate ship partners). One has to take into account that Madara appeared on-panel in February 2008 (i.e. almost 9 years after Naruto started publishing) and in person in the story in October 2011 (12 years after start of publishing). Nevertheless, MadaSaku accumulated more fics than many characters with much longer on-panel time, and that even though Madara is considered villain of the story.

When one takes under consideration the total number of Uchiha Madara fics (3913 at the point of writing this text) and Haruno Sakura (13397) it turns that MadaSaku fics form 5,3% of all Madara’s fics and 1,6% of all Sakura’s fics (Figures 5. and 6.).

It is surprising that Sakura, being famously (and infamously) shippable character, has as much as almost 40% of fics where she is not part of a romantic pair. Such high percentage of “other fics” may also mean that she is part of great number of very rare ships that were not investigated in this analysis (the analysis was stopped after excluding 40 most popular ships).

Outlook

Employing a direct data-scraping script would eliminate risks of non-detecting of certain ships. Such script would potentially also allow to examine ship’s popularity development over time.

Since this analysis was done before MadaSaku Weekend, it will be interesting to re-examine the data some time after the event to see if our participation influenced the popularity of the ship.

OK, so who managed to the end??? No one? So I thought, lol

[madasakuweek]

MadaSakuWeekEND2019 Master List

Day 1

Fic

Lost Things by @guiltyfandomtrashwonderland

SOULMATE AU by @elidebrey

To Dream and To Tell by @jingmcastle

Things Whispered in the Dark by @kendochick-moor

of war and peace by @nanawritesstuff

The House Party by @nibbler747

Lucky Chapter 1 by @olliya

Lucky Chapter 2 by @olliya

The Black Bull by @vesperlionheart

Multimedia

Things Whispered in the Dark (Art) and А где мой папа? — Я за него (Fic) by @warawasia22 and Hirovaki99, respectively

Day 2

Fic

Wrongly Convicted by @an-ambivalent

YANDERE AU by @elidebrey

Clementine by @jingmcastle 

of peace and devotion (nsfw) by @nanawritesstuff

Come on Baby, Don’t Fear the Reaper by @sunsetbivd

Art

Yandere AU by @warawasia22

Day 3

Fic

SAME AGE AU by @elidebrey

Ghost Hunters Anon by @kaijo102

Pop the Top Chapter 5 (nsfw) by @kendochick-moor

The Last Ones Standing Chapter 3 by @olliya

And They Were Seatmates by @yangssunglasses

Art

Rings by @blacksoda-souji

Same Age AU by @ingridmunizart

Same Age AU by @warawasia22

WIP by @yomi-gaeru

Multiday

Fic

Homeward Chapter 29 by @astroavis

Mayonaka no Hana (nsfw) by @birkastan2018

Arranged Marriage by @maybe-please

Personal Reaper by @yangssunglasses

Art

27, 28, 29 by @kizioziki

Other

Prevalence of the MadaSaku Ship within the Naruto Fandom on AO3 by @olliya

Prevalence of the MadaSaku Ship within the Naruto Fandom on FFN Revamped by @olliya

Prevalence of the MadaSaku Ship within the Naruto Fandom in AO3 and FFN by @olliya

[guiltyfandomtrashwonderland]

MadaSaku WeekEND 2019 Submission

Title: Lost Things

@madasakuweek

Prompt: Soulmates AU

Warnings: it’s terrible lol (will clean up and post to ao3 later as full story and not a mere oneshot)

EDIT: Guess I should provide a link to the ao3 account.

There is no victory without sacrifice. Ancient words passed from clan to clan, tribe to tribe, ninja to ninja. Words meant to provide solace to those left behind, of no comfort for those on the receiving end of fate’s whetted axe.

Kaguya is wily, but in the end she is no match for the combination seal laid on her by Naruto and Sasuke. Sakura watches, her eyes never leaving Kaguya’s face, for a medic is every battle’s sentinel. While the boys’ eyes lock squarely on the threads of the seal that instantly begins wrapping around Kaguya’s body, Sakura looks into the woman’s face, and sees her smile wickedly before crumbling away into dust. 

A few moments later, Sakura understands why.

The lines of the seal, hungry, fail to dissipate with the rabbit princess, and rush to Sakura, devouring her from the feet up. She can’t move, and time seems to pass slowly as the boys turn to look at her with twin looks of horror on their faces. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work, their eyes say, and then she vanishes into darkness.

It isn’t like passing out; it’s more like traversing a cave into its deepest point and turning off the light. Absolute darkness, so pure that she begins to hallucinate, her brain showing her images of what it thinks should be there in the absence of light to draw in.

There is no victory without sacrifice. And the success of the seal, it seems, requires such a sacrifice. Did it choose her? Or was she simply the closest one, caught up in the action by act of chance? She doesn’t know which feels worse.

Sakura strains against the darkness, feeling herself able to move again, but without earth, sky, anything, there is nowhere to move to, nothing to press against. She floats in an empty space not unlike the other worlds contained within some Mangekyo. It feels like eons pass, and she flexes her chakra here and there to remind herself she still exists, has a physical form, isn’t caught in a genjutsu.

And then, movement. A force grabs her entire body and pulls at the navel, drawing her in some sightless direction. She tries to fight, to struggle, but how can you fight against something that isn’t there? With nothing around her for comparison, she has no idea where she is going or how fast, but the way her hair spreads out behind her says forward and too damn fast.

And then, a pinprick of light. It grows larger faster than she can blink until the brightness is her whole world, and then she feels a sucking sensation as the force pulls her through what her body tells her is some kind of opening. A resting place for the dead? A final destination for all those sacrificed to the great causes of men?

But she isn’t the only sacrifice the seal will demand today.

She feels the severing of her soul bond like the snap of a bone when she passes through the void, and only then does she scream.

--

She wakes up to hard ground, a sharp voice, and an even sharper blade pressed against her throat. Her entire chakra network burns with the strain of use, and she feels a hollowness in her chakra reserves she hasn’t known in years.

“You are trespassing on the lands of the Uchiha Clan. State your name and purpose, stranger, or die.”

Trees. A forest. Scraggly plants clinging to the earth. Wet leaf smell wafts over her face with a gentle breeze, and sudden nostalgia wrenches her insides with incredible pressure. Home?

When she doesn’t answer, the flat of the blade presses against her throat harder.

“Who are you?”

She reaches out for her connection with her soulmate, a reflexive habit whenever she became anxious or hurt or scared. The nothingness from inside the void answers her, and Sakura despairs because she has never felt such emptiness. Was Ino dead? Am I dead?

“Sakura.” Her voice creaks like it hasn’t been used in a thousand years. “My name is Sakura.”

“Your purpose.”

Tsunade-sama, what is a medic’s purpose? 

To live, to survive, to heal, to fix, to defend. And always to move forward, to advance the field. 

Her purpose. Too deep of a question to pose to a lost woman with depleted chakra in a familiar forest surrounded by unfamiliar dark-haired men. But no, some of them almost looked like--?

“I’m a healer,” she says, hoping that if nothing else, they’d at least think her too valuable to kill. 

She’s right.

Her eyes and mind clear a bit and now she can see. There are three of them surrounding her in a protective triangle, weapons all drawn and pointed in. They all have dark hair and Sharingan eyes, and from their stances alone Sakura knows to be cautious. These are shinobi, and high ranking ones, dangerous enough to wield stolen Sharingan eyes. 

She reaches for the chakra in her Byakugo and doesn’t feel surprised when she comes up empty. At the end of the battle with Kaguya her seal hadn’t been depleted, but close, and the...journey to wherever she was now had apparently taken the rest. She isn’t helpless, but she’s close enough.

“We should take her to the council, my Lord” one of the men says. “Her sealwork alone will be invaluable in the fight against Uzushio. The mark on her forehead speaks of master’s work, and if she created the seals that transported her here…”

The man who demanded her identity, the one with the look of a leader about him, nods. “I agree. Fuyuki. Hirokazu.”

The two subordinates respond to his unspoken command and each form seals, and Sakura feels a sensation like a cold hand reaching down her back. She blacks out.

 --

When she wakes up, she finds herself clean and reclothed in a cell. There is no space for embarrassment at the thought of being stripped and washed while unconscious. There are no bruises on her skin and no ache between her legs, so she knows that at least she wasn’t violated after being put under. Small mercies. 

Sakura pushes the worry aside in favor of standing up to assess her surroundings, hoping the simple act of accounting for space will help center her racing thoughts. 

The cell is small, maybe two by two meters, and made of stone. There is no window, so she doesn’t know what time of day it is, or even where she is in orientation to the earth. From the coolness of the air, she guesses underground. 

The bars in front of her are deceptively simple--too far apart, too rusted--and so she hovers a hand over them to test her suspicions. A subtle heat emanates from them, and she knows that if she touched them the hidden seals would unleash burns on her skin that would go down to the bone everywhere she made contact. Probably she would be burned if she tried to slip a hand between them, as well.

The walls have a similar fire-based chakra effect, but only that of an uncomfortable heat, to warn her to keep her distance. If she breaks through them, she expects they will burn her also. An old-fashioned technique to keep a person imprisoned, when simple chakra-dampening seals both keep the prisoner from escaping and eliminate the danger of their attacking captors.

Her hand tingles uncomfortably on the exact point where her soul mark rests and she can’t bear to look down at it, already knowing what she’ll see when she does, but it will have to happen sooner or later. She looks. 

On her palm there is nothing, no misshapen mark that matches Ino’s in every way and that once allowed her to feel Ino’s presence when the other girl was--is nearby. Looking at her palm feels a little like dying, and so Sakura closes her eyes and breathes deep. If she just keeps breathing, eventually she will calm down. Her knees decide to give out a bit but Sakura follows them down as gracefully as she can and hovers over the ground on hands and knees, continuing to breathe. 

If she just breathes, everything will be okay.

Breathing doesn’t work for shit, and five minutes later she throws herself back on the futon and sobs and sobs, clutching her naked fist to her chest in denial. 

It had to have been the work of Kaguya. That bitch. That smile. 

Had Kaguya manipulated the seals, or had she just known what was coming? In the split second that they’d wrapped around her and her vision had gone dark, Sakura caught a few characters on the winding inky threads: time, fling, obliterate, soul. Now, lying in the fetal position in a cage with her chakra still gone, Sakura thinks of the worst: those men had had Sharingan. 

In her exhausted state, she assumed the only thing she reasonably could, which was based on the information she knew: nearly all Uchiha-born Sharingan users had perished, so the eyes those men used had to have been stolen. Now, she isn’t so sure. 

Where am I?

Well, she certainly won’t find out with her head between her knees like this. Sakura stands up on shaky legs, takes another deep breath, and walks back to the front of the cell.

Peering carefully between the bars gives her no clues as to her location. She can see several other cells, all empty, and a wooden floor with paper walls. Two doors mark the end of the walkway between the cells and both are shut. There are no guards. It is a clear attempt at disorienting her, she thinks. Or perhaps their attention is drawn legitimately elsewhere.

Pondering this feels somewhat pointless, and so Sakura returns to the futon (dry-eyed this time) and enters the lotus position, focusing her excess chakra into her Byakygo. 

She ignores a burning feeling spreading across her upper back. A stress rash. It’ll go away in the morning.

--

The next day, as near as she can tell without the window, the man who led the squad approaches her cage and nods at her. It isn’t a bow, but it’s an admission of cordiality. Sakura does not relax. Fresh from the agony of her journey, she hadn’t paid much attention to what they’d looked like, she’d just noticed. But with her head clear, it’s as plain as day that this man is the spitting image of Sasuke, and the resemblance sends a feeling like jumping into an iced-over pond all over her skin.

Sharingan. They’d all had Sharingan. And this man, who looked so much like Sasuke, must have had his own, for his eyes were black as anything today. Only an Uchiha could switch the Sharingan off again.

“Sakura,” he says. “Is that your real name?”

Sakura nods. “Yes, it is. Will you tell me yours?” She feels herself shaking a bit, unsure what she will do if he says what she thinks he might.

He smiles. “I’d like to ask you a few more questions first, if you don’t mind.”

Sakura nods again. She’d been preparing for this.

The man sits on the floor in a crossed-legs position, looking for all the world like a friend eager to catch up on goings-on. She stares at him, and at the easy smile on his face, and wonders what he could possibly want from her. From the way he begins his questioning, what he mostly wants is very boring answers to boring questions.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“How is your back?”

My--? “Uh, fine. It’s not sore if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I see. Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

Her answers are simple, not giving away more than is necessary, and she feels comforted by his apparent lack of care for this. It is absolutely imperative that she cooperate. The sooner he trusts her, the sooner she’ll be out of this prison, and then she can reorient herself and find her way back to Naruto, Sasuke, Kaka-sensei without needing to resort to anything drastic. All she needs is a moment to escape.

But then, his questions take a rather different turn.

“You were in quite a state when we found you,” he says. “Fighting a war, are you?”

Sakura makes a face. “Obviously,” she bites out. “Where have you been? Haven’t you noticed the strange things that have been happening? In the sky, it was--well, the sky went all red, and there was a genjutsu on...on the moon.” The man tilts his head, face completely blank. He doesn’t react either with recognition or confusion. “Maybe you weren’t near the fighting, but surely you encountered the Zetsu,” Sakura finishes.

He stares at her, but she senses something cautiously hidden behind the stoic facade. This isn’t the face of a man hearing the rambling of a brain-addled prisoner, but it also isn’t the face of a person who’s spent the last four days thinking the world might end. What’s going on?

“White men, they were all white men with green hair...everyone went to sleep. Please, don’t you know what I’m talking about? I’m Sakura, Haruno Sakura. I’m from the land of Fire.” She swallows hard, pressing her hands on the ground to quell the tremors. “You have to know about that, right? Don’t you know who I am?”

The man looks at her like she’s crazy, which is fair. For the past few days of fighting she’d felt slightly unhinged even at her best.

“Haruno Sakura,” the man says slowly. “You’re in the land of Fire. My clan members and I found you near the border of our territory, at the edge of where the Senju forest begins.”

“But that’s not--surely you’d have seen--the whole country was overrun with--”

“Sakura,” he interrupts gently. “You’ve clearly been through many things. Considering the state you were in when the transportation seal dropped you at the border, I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through. But you clearly need rest. The sky is not red, and there is not a genjutsu on the moon.” His face is devoid of deception, and her heart sinks like a pit into her stomach.

He asks her a few more simple questions, carefully avoiding any that would have her recount the manner in which she arrived. When he leaves, Sakura curls up into a ball on the futon and cries, again. The burning on her back is worse today.

--

He comes every day for a week (if she counts by meals), bearing her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and always stays until she’s finished them all. The food does indeed remind her of Fire Country’s cuisine, but of the southwestern border, where tastes ran spicy and sour and sweet and strong, and the rice wasn’t rice at all but a type of wild grass that grows in flooded marshes.

The man is cordial to her, laughing and teasing at times, and she can’t help but relax around him as he reminds her a little of Naruto, whose ability to make a friend astounded her at times.

He still hasn’t told her his name, but she knows for certain this man is related to Sasuke. There’s something just so about the shape of his jawline and and the tilt to his eyebrows that couldn’t be from anywhere else. 

She asks him about his family, about where they’re from, but all she gets is vague answers politely nudging her to change the subject. She feels brave enough once to ask him directly about the Sharingan, but all he does is laugh and tell her that if she’s from the land of Fire she should know already. 

After a while she wonders if it’s his job to assess her mental state, because a suspiciously large portion of the questions relate to her emotional stability, ability to recall events, mood status, and some painfully obvious inquiries concerning her use of controlled substances. 

In fact, his questions aren’t intelligence-seeking at all, but sound rather like the same sorts of questions she asks hospital patients suffering from head trauma or psychosis. They’re questions you ask a person that you intend to release as soon as they’re stable. This baffles her more than she’d like to admit. What did they plan to do to her, these Uchiha?

None of the questions remotely mention the shinobi arts until the 22nd meal, upon which he requests to know her chakra affinities.

“Earth and water,” she answers easily, though to be honest she rarely uses elemental ninjutsu, preferring to rely on her yin and yang release for attacks and defense. 

“I see,” he responds, standing and setting his feet. “Would you mind doing a small demonstration? You see, there are members of my clan who would greatly like to meet you, and I’ve been asked to assess your proficiency in the shinobi arts.”

“And my sanity.”

“And that,” he agrees with a wry quirk to his lips. “You haven’t mentioned any more of this moon-based genjutsu, so I hope that means you’ve recovered from the disorientation the seal caused you.”

Sakura shrugs.

“Very well,” the man continues. “So with that, Haruno Sakura, would you please provide a demonstration of your abilities?”

Sakura gets an idea, and requests that he bring her something alive and injured. Anything would work, she says, animal or human, and he looks at her curiously but leaves. In his absence, Sakura takes a deep breath and slips into the child’s pose on the floor, centering her chakra in far too much preparation for a simple healing, but it certainly helped calm her nerves. 

There is something bothering her. Something wrong. She can’t quite point it out, but it is there, poking at her incessantly. He’d said she was in the land of Fire. There’s always the possibility that he intends to disorient her and had lied, but something inside her says he was telling the truth back then. And what does that mean if he had? The seal had pulled her through space. Lots of space.

Had it truly pulled her through time as well? To a time when the Uchiha Clan still lived alone in their territory to the southwest, perpetually at war with the Senju? He’d mentioned the Senju forests. Uzushiogakure. No one talked--talks about the forests like that anymore. And Uzushio is--

It is all completely ridiculous. But with the things she’s seen lately, she feels fully prepared to believe it. The rabbit princess can turn humans to ash with a touch, so why can’t an ancient sealing technique throw a human sacrifice interdimensionally in order to power the sealing?

But she doesn’t believe anything, not yet. She needs to gather more evidence. Get out of this damn cell first. A demonstration of her healing abilities will almost certainly help with that. A good shinobi isn’t hard to find, but a good medical shinobi sure as hell is.

The man returns with a small kitten sporting an infected sore on its head. Easy to fix. It has a twisted back leg likely there from birth. Far less easy to fix, but kittens are small and biologically squishy and she’s feeling like showing off wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hands glowing green, she takes care of the infection in minutes and repairs the leg enough to splint it in two hours. 

When she finishes she’s a bit tired out, her reserves having not completely gone back to normal and her Byakugo still depleted, and the man is looking at her with an expression of pure awe.

“What is that?” He gestures at her hands, the green fading silently into nothing.

“It’s chakra used for healing,” Sakura says, and then watches the man carefully. 

He betrays nothing of recognition and the awe only increases. “That’s incredible,” he breathes. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Sakura closes her eyes, refusing to fall into despair. Not yet. The unsettled feeling of wrong wrong wrong begins to grow, bolstered by what she’d seen on the seals, but this is hardly an air-tight confirmation, she chides herself. There are plenty of rural areas that had never heard of--well, not in the land of Fire. But she still isn’t sure if--

“Please,” she speaks to the man, letting all the worry and stress seep into her voice. His head snaps up, away from the kitten he’d been watching roll about with four unmarred limbs, and his gaze connects squarely with her own. “Please, I want to get out of here. I don’t want to be kept in here.”

“I can help you,” she adds, gesturing to the kitten. Desperation claws at her belly.

The man approaches the bars and touches them with a single finger, making the sign for tiger with his other hand. She feels an odd shimmering in the air of heat and energy, and then the man opens the door.

“Haruno Sakura,” he says, “If it pleases you, the council of elders for my clan would like to meet you. The detention was a precaution, of course. I’m sure you understand.”

She holds her breath, hardly believing her luck and this man’s inexplicable trust in her.

“My name is Uchiha Izuna.”

--

Sakura begins to worry more intensely at the wrongness of it all as Izuna leads her out of the holding cells and into the light. After she squints the last bit of darkness from her eyes, she finds herself in the middle of an enormous domestic compound stretching in every direction for as far as she could see.

Stone houses with red clay rooftops line well-trodden dirt pathways, and everywhere she looks there are people bustling about. Two women in a house down the way put up laundry together, and in the space of an intersection five children tumble over one another in a mixture of tag and sparring. None of them could have been older than five but all have kunai in their hands.

But the people, and their questionable child-raising traditions, aren’t what stops her dead in her tracks just outside the cell block.

Red and white uchiwa fans emblazon banners and kimono and the backs of the children’s shirts. They decorate walls and paper lanterns on all the houses, and mark the barrier walls at steady intervals.

What’s happening to me? 

Izuna leads her past the intersection and down a main thoroughfare, keeping a steady hand half an inch or so above her lower back, which she feels the pressure of every so often as she slows down to gawk at the next thing, and the next.

Izuna Uchiha...she knows that name, doesn’t she?

More anxieties push their way anxiously to the forefront, overwhelming her thoughts to the point where she barely looks where she’s going. He hadn’t asked her about any loyalties she holds, any family she has waiting for her, and no shinobi of his caliber would forget something so vital when interrogating a prisoner. In fact, her entire lock-up seemed like a farce, and she wonders if it had all been concocted to ensure her cooperation with medical ninjutsu.

Surely, she thinks, a clan would not trust an outsider around their children so soon without something hanging over their head. 

But here she is, being led through--the Uchiha Clan compound--this man’s family compound, a man who claims the Uchiha and their Sharingan eyes, as though she poses no threat at all. He knows something, Sakura thinks, he just isn’t saying what.

When they arrive at the large central house, she lets herself be whisked in away from Izuna and into the hands of capable servants, who slip her out of her clean but plain clothing and into an elaborate kimono with a green base which she admires while being dressed. Bide your time, she tells herself. It isn’t time to run, not yet.

She enters the council room with little introduction and meets the grim faces of six elderly people all crouched on mats, and she sits on the lone empty mat at the center of the room. Behind the elders is a large black stone bowl at the center of which is a massive flame, and everywhere along the wall are uchiwa in various stages of antiquity. 

By now, it’s clear to her that this family must be genuine, but before she accepts she’s been flung headlong through time she feels she needs something more convincing than some scenery. What that is, she doesn’t know.

The elders, in spite of their mood, are surprisingly unhostile and question her about her health, apologize for the necessity of keeping her caged for several days, and inquire after her ability to heal with chakra. It is only when they begin to question her soulbond status does Sakura feel a sense of gnawing horror, a ratlike terror in a darkened corner of a room filled with cats. The feeling makes her want to act out, to put herself out on the line to see what will bite her next.

“When I came through the seal,” Sakura says, and at this the elders lean forward as one, “my connection with my soulmate was severed. My soul mark is gone now, and--” Here her voice breaks, just a bit. “--as you see then, I have no soulmate.”

“You are wrong,” a deep, masculine voice cuts through the stillness of the room, silencing everything but the fire.

Uchiha Madara, very much alive and looking no older than thirty, steps into the room. The elders all immediately bow but Sakura’s back stiffens like a metal rod. Behind him she can see Izuna, changed into more formal attire. He nods encouragingly at Sakura but her eyes stay riveted on the wild-haired man in front of him.

Madara bows to her. Low, at the waist. Dryness overtakes her mouth completely. “Your name is Sakura. You came to this world from another, through a seal you had no part in making. You bring knowledge of healing chakra with you from a time beyond this one. In that place, the conspirator Zetsu succeeded in bringing about the end of the world. And your soulmate in this world,” Madara continues, “is me.”

He brings a hand up to his shoulder and presses his hand to his upper back. Burning chakra like dying embers overtakes her system until the invasion overwhelms her shaky reserves and she begins to black out. The last of Sakura’s doubt dies with her consciousness, and her last thought before her body hits the floor is well, shit.

[warawasia22]

@madasakuweek

Prompt: Same Age AU

“I hate you...but I love you, but I hate you...”

[nanawritesstuff]

of war and peace | December 27th, MadaSakuWeekend

it’s here, y’all. MadaSakuWeekend, Day 1. Thank you, Captain @madasakuweek​, for organising and motivating the madasaku stans!!!! 

Prompt: soulmate au

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Haruno Sakura/ Uchiha Madara

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Word Count: 4051

Summary: For Sakura, soulmates have officially lost their charm and she’s never felt more disillusioned. But when the only chance to look deeper comes to her, she still takes it. | sequel to of love and war 

Warnings/Tags: angst, ooc sasuke cuz I like soft friend Sasuke, ooc madara cuz I need some fluff

a/n: I really wasn’t sure if I should write this, but this is the only way I wanted to write it lol

Sakura has always known what dead soulmarks mean. 

She thought she had accepted it-the bittersweet feeling of being surrounded by people meant for each other, knowing there was no such person for her, not anymore. She's been ready for the weddings, the children, and the anniversaries since she was twelve. She's crafted herself an armour of acceptance and resolution. 

She hadn't been ready for this. 

The first glimpse of the infamous Uchiha had shaken her to the core. Despite the distance between them, she knows that he had sensed her presence. Sasuke's hand had been firm in hers as she trembled, as her mind and body refused to cooperate. And then that wild hair vanished from sight, leaving behind an odd longing in her, which she has been trying to fight down ever since. They've retreated back to camp to for a brief respite, and she takes this time to come to terms with the current situation.

She hadn’t been ready for the part of her she’d thought long buried to awaken and unfurl in the deepest parts of her, for it to sense its other half and prod at her very being as if to say: hey, look, there they are!

Despite knowing there was no happy ending written for her, she had indulged in the occasional daydream of somehow meeting her soulmate. They usually involved tears and soft kisses, apologies and tight hugs. When she heard people were being resurrected, her mind had spun out of control for a moment. The hope had been nearly overwhelming, and the subsequent disappointment had crushed it. 

What she feels now is pure despair. There are no teary first meetings in the works for her, because the man fate has deemed fit for her is the worst enemy they have ever faced. And judging by the reports coming in from the fourth division, he is also an overpowered killer. The desperation and desolation merge as they rush through her, forming a leash around her heart. What does it say about her, if that is who is marked for her? Not every marked pair ends up together, but that’s still rare.

How is it that someone she has never even met has managed to break her heart? Or is it the absolute disillusionment that has her struggling to breathe?

Sasuke's arms are steady and warm around her as they stand in the empty tent. His brother stands guard outside, talking to his partner in low tones. The two make an odd pair, but there is a certain confidence in the way they move around each other that speaks of faith, and trust. Her eyes squeeze shut as the tears spill over and her fingers dig into Sasuke's skin as she buries her head in his shoulder. 

"I've got you. Okay? We don't have much time, but...I'm here with you. You're not alone," he murmurs, hugging her closer when she starts shaking. "I'm here." Sakura sobs harder at the warm words, cursing herself for crying over this, over him. She should be out there, shrugging it off, keeping her head held high. Instead, she's hiding away, crying like a child. 

"W-why him?" she blubbers, taking in shaky breaths as Sasuke wipes her cheeks dry. “What the hell did I ever do to deserve that?

"Well, it's definitely unfortunate. But...you could've done worse. You could've gotten Danzo." 

The complete disgust on her face makes him grin. 

"He's not much better." 

"Hey, come on now. I know he's our enemy, but your soulmate is one of the most feared shinobi in all the nations," Sasuke tells her, handing her a cup of water. "Right up there with the Shodaime." 

"Sasuke."

"I'm just saying...it could've been Danzo."

She can't help but laugh at that, pulling him into another hug. "Yes. And now I have to watch my soulmate die without ever getting a chance to speak to him." 

He shrugs, watching her as she nearly dunks her head in a bucket of water. "I mean, you'll get a chance to meet him. Even a monster wouldn't kill his own soulmate." 

Sakura isn't so sure of that, but she knows it doesn't matter either way. She won't get a chance to find out.

She gets her chance. 

Naruto turns to her when Madara leaves, declaring his intent to wait for the Shodaime. She knows she doesn't imagine the way his eyes flick in her direction before he turns away. She tells herself it was Naruto he was assessing, but her heart doesn't stop pounding. He's terrifying. He kills as naturally as he breathes, as if he was born to fight, to defeat. And yet, she had heard him call out to Hashirama. She had seen him nearly crash into the ground in his haste to get to the man, his eyes lit up with excitement at the mere prospect of getting to fight his old friend. 

She had nearly smiled at the way his face fell when Hashirama rebuffed him. 

It doesn't matter–she can berate herself all she wants, but she couldn't stop her eyes from finding him, from greedily taking in every move he makes. It's dangerous to be this distracted, and it takes her every ounce of the self-control she possesses to stay focused on healing Naruto, who is still trying to check on her.

The sound of heavy footsteps grows closer, and she looks up to see Hashirama smiling at her. There is chatter all around her as they all watch the four Hokage in action, getting ready to jump into the fray themselves, and one of the Shodaime's clones has come to her instead.

"I'm going to him. I know it's important to conserve chakra but...I'd say this is important too, in a way," he says softly, the way he looks pointedly at her neck leaving little doubt as to what he means. Of all the people in the world, he's probably the one person who is as familiar with the symbol as she is. She turns to look at Naruto and Sasuke, who look back at her with no trace of judgment in their eyes. She squares her shoulders and walks to them, her hands coming up to form a symbol she's rarely ever had to use, unlike her blond teammate. 

As Team 7 steps up to join the battle, her clone leaves with Hashirama's.

She's afraid–of being rejected, even though she tells herself she's not looking for acceptance. Of him being worse than she believes him to be, even though it can't, in all honestly, get much worse than mass-murdering psychopath aiming for world domination. She feels no small amount of guilt for going to meet the man who has taken so much from this world, from her friends. 

They slow to a stop just before they reach the spot, and Sakura looks at him questioningly when he just smiles sheepishly. His eyes indicate his unnatural state, but they’re still gentle in the way they settle on her.

"It's Sakura, right?" 

"Um, yes."

"Hm. You know, ever since I first saw it, I've been curious–just what kind of a person would give that brute such a pretty mark?" he muses, and she flushes under the weight of his gaze. "But it's subtle in its beauty. The one he's given you...well, it certainly doesn't leave any doubt, does it?" 

Sakura looks up at the rock where her supposed fated one waits. "Not anymore. This mark, it's given me a lot of grief. But it's never felt like a burden...until now." She turns back to him, her smile wobbly. "No matter who it belonged to, it was my soulmark. There was someone for me, even if they were out of reach."

"To find out that you're Madara's soulmate...he's definitely a handful," Hashirama guffaws as he pats her shoulder sympathetically. A part of her can't believe she's just standing around, chatting with the Shodaime Hokage as the war rages on around them, even if they're clones. But, despite her initial fears, he isn't disgusted. There's no sign of pity in his eyes. He seems to sense her uncertainty as she tries to find the right words. 

'Handful' seems to be the understatement of the world. The man is trying to cast a genjutsu over the entire world. 

"He's...not someone I expected. Ever." 

Hashirama nods, seeming to understand what she doesn't say. "I'll get to the point, then. It may be hard to believe, and I'm certain everyone else would disagree if they heard this...but then no one ever really knew Madara like I did, like I do." A finger under her chin tilts her head up when she can't meet his eyes. "He's an idiot. A severely misguided one. He has a terrible temper and his way of resolving things is to beat them." 

'Is he trying to tell me that I dodged a bullet?' Sakura thinks, wondering if the Shodaime thinks she's an idiot. 

"But Sakura...despite his utter idiocy and thick-head...he has good in his heart. I know this, and I believe this even now. He is not an evil man." She blinks at the unexpected words.

"Then why is he doing this? Trying to create some perfect world? What happened?" she asks quietly. Hashirama sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to put it in words. The sky has settled into a shadowy disposition, a precursor of the darker things to come and–she can’t tell if it’s afternoon or evening.

"The Uchiha, they...they love deeply, to a fault. To the point where it can destroy them. This trait was always especially apparent in Madara. He loved his family so much, that losing them broke him apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but anguish,” Hashirama’s eyes lose focus as his mind travels to a time when Konoha was just a dream. “Losing his brother was the final straw, although I didn't know it at the time. Izuna took a big piece of Madara with him, when he was killed by my own brother."

"But...you still founded the village after that?" 

"I was able to convince him. And I've always believed that even then, Madara had hope." 

"For Konoha?"

"Yes. And for finding you," Hashirama says, his soft smile edging with sorrow. His words take root in her heart, robbing her of breath and words. "He never admitted it, but I knew he wanted to meet you. Sakura-san, when we were kids, he used to go on and on about you. He was so sure you would be a kunoichi–beautiful, powerful yet kind were his exact words if I remember correctly.” His laugh is soft as he shares this piece of his past, of cherished memories. “A woman who could send shinobi flying with one punch. I'm sure he's very pleased to know he was right." 

She knows he's teasing, but she can't help the warmth that extends to her ears. “Oh...”

“Uchiha Madara’s soulmate, apprenticed to a Senju, my own granddaughter. I suppose the fates do have a peculiar sense of humour,” he mutters, appearing a bit smug.

Sakura, however, is stuck on his previous words.

"He really said all that?" The almighty Uchiha, fantasizing about his soulmate?

"He did. In his defence, we were children. His vocabulary was rather limited at the time. But, as I was saying...well, he never did find you. The situation became more hopeless, and...then it ended. Or so I believed." 

“And he betrayed you.”

“And he believed he was meant to walk a different path, yes.”

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks as they begin to walk towards their goal.  

"Because I know he won't. And as his best friend, I believe it to be my duty to tell you your soulmate isn't the monster everyone believes him to be." Hashirama's sincerity shines through in every word. "And, because the gods are cruel. If Madara had met you back then...I truly believe things would have been different." 

'But we never had a chance.' Her eyes well up once again, but Hashirama's look suspiciously shiny as well. It's in this moment that it really sinks in–the man people believe was Uchiha Madara's greatest enemy still calls himself his best friend. Perhaps he's too optimistic, to actually believe there's still some good left in the other man, but he would know better than most, wouldn't he? Better than everyone else.

It may be naive of her but Sakura chooses to believe him–because she wants to believe it. She wants to believe there's more to Madara than the homicidal demon he's known to be, even if she might not get the chance to see it for herself.

And now, as he waits for Hashirama, she finds him.

She doesn't see her mark on what little skin she can see, but that only makes sense. Most Shinobi don’t leave their mark visible for everyone to see, and this one has more reason than most to hide his. Her own mark seems to pulse in sync with the quickening beat of her heart. Her breath catches in her throat as he moves, as he slowly turns to face them, her muscles locking up when he tilts his head, the spiral pattern of his eyes dizzying in his otherworldly beauty.

She doesn't move as he refuses to fight Hashirama's clone, and then proceeds to destroy it. She waits for him to do the same to her, but he only goes back to his seat with casual indifference. Ino and Shikamaru's faces spring up in her head–the apprehension is cast aside in favour of anger.

And then, she pounces. 

He blocks every attack, never countering, only parrying and twisting gracefully. His expression doesn't shift in the slightest, but she can see the amused glint in his eyes and it sends anger burning like fire through her veins. As he turns slightly to step back, her fingers slide into his coarse hair, clenching tightly and yanking him to her. The surprised look on his face is almost comical, and she only gets a glimpse before she drives her fist into his cheek. The way he crashes through the rocks has vindictive satisfaction thrumming in her, even though she knows it was a lucky shot.

"That was dirty," he grumbles. His voice is deeper than she expected, and there is none of the rage she was expecting. Instead, as he sets his gunbai down,  he looks like he’s trying to fight a smirk. 

"That was for my friends," she replies firmly. 'Nothing in the world will ever make up for what you've done.'

"Friends, hmm?" He tilts his head curiously, brushing dirt off his armour. "The nine-tails is one of them, is he not?" 

The look she gives him is dangerous, and her only response. The little smirk that curls along his mouth is knowing. He has the striking features common in the Uchiha, but where Sasuke and Itachi are lean, lithe and delicate–Madara is broader, sturdy, and rugged, but still limber which is apparent in the way he moves.

"So you haven't come to join me, little soulmate?"

"And betray my people? Of course not," she says dismissively. 

“Your people? Shouldn’t your soulmate be included in that list?”

“Not if he’s trying to ruin the lives of every other person on it,” she snaps, her irritation rising when he only looks amused. Where is the temper the Shodaime mentioned? 

"Then why have you come?" 

His question gives her pause, makes her nervous. "Because of the Shodaime..."

"Did the meddling fool force you?" 

"No! I just...I was curious,” she admits, shrugging lightly despite the nervous feeling fluttering in her stomach. 

"Hm."

She watches him for another moment. He sits with his legs crossed, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He looks as if he doesn't have a care in the world, but his eyes are intense in their focus, in the way they linger on her mark. His mark. She wonders what he thinks of her, with her soft hair and bright eyes. With the thick lines sweeping down her face to her body. 

In all her daydreams, she had never thought she’d look this roughed up when meeting her soulmate. There are no sundresses and bright nail polish; her skin is cleaner than her real body’s by virtue of being a clone and her flak jacket is snug around her torso. The image of a faceless man with a gentle smile has been torn to shreds, replaced by this man who she thinks is–in the deepest parts of her mind–of a wilder sort of beauty than she could’ve ever imagined. 

She thinks he’s beautiful, and she hates herself for it. 

"I came because even though you're clearly insane, this is the only chance I had to meet you," she says honestly. "So I took it."

"Insane?" he repeats, his eye twitching. "Bold, aren't you?" 

"I'd have to be, with this blasted mark on my neck!" 

"Listen here, girl, that's the Sharingan you're insulting! My Sharingan," he says, and she tries to ignore the possessiveness colouring his tone. 

"Well, your Sharingan has been an endless source of annoyance my entire life!"  

"And your mark..." he begins heatedly, only to trail off. Suddenly, she feels awkward. What is she doing, arguing with this man? 

"And my mark?" She watches him cautiously, watching for a hint, a sign that would indicate the location of her mark. She’s been curious about it all her life and Hashirama hadn’t given her any clues beyond ‘pretty.’

He doesn't respond, his head turning towards the direction of the battle. Her heart restarts it's panicked thumping as he moves to stand, his gaze focused on some distant point. He glances at her once before turning away to leave. 

"W-wait!" 

Madara stills, looking over his shoulder at her, and she ignores the voice in her head that calls her a sentimental fool. 

"M-my name...it’s Sakura," she stammers, her mouth dry, feeling like a complete idiot. At the same time, something in her is finally quenched. She doesn’t regret it. And then–the all too familiar scent of forests and smoke fills her senses, and her heart attempts to leap out of her mouth when those hypnotic eyes meet her own and he's too close too close. He leans over her, his expression unreadable, and she feels something warm on her neck before she discovers that it's his fingers. His skin is warm, and she's startled further when she realizes his glove is off. 

Madara strokes the bright mark on her skin, his touch gentler than she would’ve expected from a man like him, his gaze unwavering. "Sakura, huh?" She doesn't understand why her knees shake at the way he says her name, as if he's savouring sweet wine. They shake harder when his mouth curves up, even though it's tiny. It softens his harsh features and stills the pounding of her heart. "Of course it is. I'm...Madara." 

He’s close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off of his body; she could reach out and touch him, and she might be losing her mind because she thinks he would let her. She wants to explore, dig deep and see what parts of him he’s hiding, and how they would fit with hers.

“...It’s nice to finally meet you, I guess,” she whispers. She’s embarrassed to find that her eyes have grown wet again but before she can swipe at them his hand is there, brushing a tear off her lashline. 

“I should be the one saying that.” But he doesn’t sound annoyed. The air is warm and still between them as they both search the other's face. They both know where the other stands. There’s nothing more to say. She feels something tug at her as he steps back, slipping his glove back on. There's something on his wrist, but it's covered by the cloth before she can get a clearer look.

"Well, Sakura. I'll see you on the battlefield." 

She still doesn't quite know how, but things got worse.  

The battlefield is quiet around them, as everyone slumbers in their cocoons. In this moment though, her mind strays from her worry for her people. Her eyes, instead, remain glued to the form on the ground, the form Hashirama is now walking towards. Her mind flashes through the events that lead to this. Gai-sensei. Obito. Naruto and Sasuke, who have now disappeared along with Kakashi-sensei and the creature, the woman who had put an end to Uchiha Madara. The thought doesn't bring the triumph it should. Instead, they now have something much worse on their hands.

She feels numb, because of the unknown evil they now have to face. Because she had to watch her soulmate nearly explode and be turned inside out in a most horrific manner, and she knows it's going to give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

And, because...this is it. This is it for him, for the little bit of them.

Naruto realized it before she did, and pushed her to safety before they vanished. He made the decision for her because he knew she would have followed them. And he wanted her to have this. 

As she walks towards him, his form grows blurrier. The confusion lasts for but a moment before she realizes her body has reacted before her mind could, in the form of the tears that flow freely down her cheeks. He’s empty, drained of life and chakra, the bleached look gone and his hair back to its inky ferocity.

His words, spoken in low tones, reach her ears. "War buddies...huh? Well, I guess that's fine...by me..." he trails off as Hashirama turns to look up at her. "Ah, that's...right. One of my dreams...did come true." 

She sinks to her knees beside him, reaching for his hand. It's still warm, and she squeezes it tightly. He looks frail, all the rage in him finally hushed. He doesn't look at her, but she realizes quickly that he can't.

"I always told you, didn't I?" Hashirama teases, although his smile is more wistful than amused. "In this, at least–you were right."

"I...know..." His fingers twitch around hers as his mouth perks up slightly. "Sakura."

"Hmm?" She's unsure if she can manage to speak through quiver in her throat, through the emotions bubbling up and choking her. "I-I'm here." 

"My...wrist..."

She catches on quickly, reaching for the hand still shielded by a glove with trembling fingers. As she slips it off, her eyes stay trained on his wrist. On her mark. And her heart aches at the sight of it, at the unfairness of it all.

"Oh."

"Beautiful...isn't it?" he asks, almost serenely. She laughs quietly, running her fingers over the cherry blossoms inked on to his skin by fate itself. "Forgive me. I'll...be going...ahead first." 

"Again," she murmurs, sighing at the position they've found themselves in after all this time.

He seems to find it amusing, his mouth curling up further still despite his unfocused gaze. "Ah. I guess...this just wasn't...our time...huh?"

"Not this life," she agrees, leaning in to press her mouth to his forehead. He’s nearly gone, so she knows he probably doesn’t feel the tears that drip down her chin and onto his ashen skin. "Maybe in another, if we're lucky." 

"I'll...look...for you, then..." he agrees, his smile fading slightly as his hand goes in limp in her grip. She takes a moment to close her eyes, to let herself feel. The loss. The bitterness. The unravelling of that tense, bitter knot in her chest that had wound itself tight throughout the years. In the end, she got to be by his side, in a small way.

Hashirama's hand is steady on her back as she takes in deep breaths. There will be time to grieve–later. For now, she has teammates to find and people to save. Despite everything the world has thrown at them, they've survived. And she's going to keep it that way.