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yomi-gaeru · 3 months

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forward, always: chapter 2

Sakura’s prediction was right; Izuna made for a terrible patient.

He wasn’t the worst, thankfully. That honor went to the one and only Hatake Kakashi. The number of times she’d had to track that man down after he’d absconded from the hospital just to make sure he hadn’t undone all her hard work had been countless.

At least Izuna stayed in one place.

Izuna had been on bed rest for a full month now, and awake for three of them. While his injuries still caused him to rest for several hours throughout the day, when he was awake he made sure that everyone knew it.

“I’m sorry Izuna,” Sakura told him for the twentieth time that morning as she spoon fed him the blandest of broths. “But your body isn’t ready for anything more than this.”

And it wouldn’t be for some time, but she didn’t want to tell him that just yet.

“I don’t think you’re very sorry at all,” Izuna sniffed. As soon as he was able to keep conscious for more than an hour at a time, Madara had ordered servants to bring an abundance of pillows to use to prop Izuna up into a sitting position. Madara had argued that it’d help with Izuna’s pride, allowing for him to feel less like an invalid, and Sakura had agreed because the position didn’t pull at his healing wound and would make feeding and bathing him easier.

“Regardless,” Sakura said as she held a spoon full of soup near his mouth.

With a petulant sneer on his face, Izuna opened his mouth and accepted his fate.

“Are you sure she’s not Senju, sent here to poison me with disgusting broth?” Izuna threw an arm over his eyes and slumped back further into his cushions.

Madara laughed. It was deep and soft and made Sakura’s stomach turn warm. As elusive as it was, Sakura found herself loving Madara’s laugh. It seemed to come out the most when in the presence of his little brother.

“I’m sure,” he assured Izuna with a small smile on his face.

“Well” Izuna sighed, letting his arm drop and coming out of hiding. “You’ll be an Uchiha soon enough.” He looked between his brother and Sakura. “How was the announcement received, anyway?”

“It was accepted by the elders,” Madara told him. “Our first meeting with the chief priest will be in a fortnight.”

Izuna hummed. “A clan head wedding and an alliance with the Senju. You sure have thrown a lot at them recently.” His dark eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Are you sure that this venture, or whatever you’re calling it, with Hashirama is a good idea?”

The day after Hashirama’s visit, Madara had summoned his council of elders to inform them of their plans for a truce and joint creation of a village. Sakura had expected more push back from the war torn elders, from the men who’d fought against the Senju for the entirety of their lives, but a surprising majority of them supported the idea. Hashirama’s prowess cast a long shadow, and it seemed that even now, before he creates and takes on the title of Hokage, the man was revered as the God of Shinobi. Many within the clan preferred to be on Hashirama’s side, rather than against it, even if that meant swallowing generations worth of strife and pride.

Of course, there were still a good number of Uchiha who didn’t believe that the Senju would keep their word, none louder than Izuna, but with the popular opinion working against them, and no one daring to outright challenge Madara’s leadership, they could do little more than grumble their grievances.

Madara looked at Sakura first before responding, “I think it is worth a try.”

Izuna sighed. “If you say so.” His eyes drooped to a close and his breathing evened out, and soon he was asleep.

Fussing with his blanket and making sure to cover Izuna’s shoulders to ward off any chill, Sakura then gathered up the half empty bowl of broth and nodded for Madara to follow her out of the room.

Once they were a safe enough distance to speak freely and at a normal volume, Madara took the dishes from Sakura’s hands and set them off to the side. “It makes my heart sore to see Izuna in such good spirits.”

Sakura hummed, “He’s always a bit more energetic when you visit. He’s recovering faster than I had anticipated, too. We should be able to start his physical therapy in less than a month.” There was bound to be a set back or two, but Izuna was well out of the woods at this point and they could cross that bridge when they came to it.

“There’s more to it, too,” Madara said before placing a brief kiss on her forehead. The action was becoming one of his favorites. “I think he’s excited for the future, just as I am.”

Wrapping her arms around Madara’s waist to keep him close, she smiled widely up at him. “The truce with the Senjus is truly remarkable, Madara. Everyone should be excited for it.”

Madara chuckled and shook his head. He brought his own arms around her shoulders a bit hesitantly, still unused to Sakura’s easy affections. “That’s part of it, I’m sure, but I think what he’s most excited for is our wedding. He’s always wanted a sister, you know.”

That drew a loud laugh from Sakura’s lips. “No way,” she shook her head. “He’s been ready to be rid of me ever since waking up.” Before that, even, considering their very first interaction included Izuna trying to strangle her. “He just tolerates me because of his love for you.”

“Trust me, Sakura,” Madara said with a smirk, “Izuna likes you. You’ll understand when you see him with the elders. He tolerates no one for my sake.”

Giving his waist a squeeze, Sakura relented, “If you say so.” Pulling back slightly, she asked, “Are you still meeting with Hashirama later today?”

Madara nodded. “We’re still mapping out the boundaries for the village. There’s a clan with a massive forest that we’d like to invite to join us. We plan to go out and start negotiations with them today.”

That must be the Nara clan, Sakura figured. The Nara forest with its sacred deer were an important addition for the future of Konoha. Not only would that clan bring their intelligence and specialized jutsus, but the forest would serve as a nearly impregnable defense along the eastern boundary of the village.

Madara and Hashirama would be successful in their negotiations, Sakura knew, but she was nervous all the same. The textbooks never went into detail about how long it took for the village’s two founders to convince other clans to believe in their dream, or what arrangements were made to ensure cohesion. The textbooks merely said it happened, leaving Sakura feeling like a half baked prophet.

Instead of focusing on things outside of her control, Sakura asked,“Will you be home for dinner?”

Wincing, Madara gave her an apologetic look. “I’m not expecting to be, no. Hashirama is readying overnight provisions for us.”

So she really should have been asking if he’d be home for breakfast. Sakura shrugged, knowing it couldn’t be helped. At least she had her own itinerary planned for once, which would help keep her busy.

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning then.” Something resembling relief passed across his face at her words. “I’ve got a busy day planned for myself, actually. I was planning on going to the market and then perhaps to the Apothecary. It’s time I start learning the lay of the place.”

Since coming to Madara’s aid, Sakura had mostly been sequestered away in the main house. Now though, with Izuna in a more stable position and the news of their engagement spread, Sakura felt the need to make her presence known and get to know the people she was marrying into. If she was to become their matriarch—and wasn’t that just a shock and a half for a civilian born girl—she needed to know them and be known by them.

“I understand,” Madara nodded slowly. Whatever relief Sakura had found in his facial expression had been replaced with apprehension. “I’ll have Saburo escort you.” Madara stepped out of Sakura’s hold to walk out onto the engawa. Raising his arm, he waited for only the briefest of moments before one of his hawks landed on his extended arm, ready to receive a new message from its master.

“Thank you,” Sakura said before Madara could get a message out, “but that's unnecessary, I won’t need an escort.”

A deep frown of displeasure cut its way across Madara’s mouth. “I think it’s best if you do. I insist.” He reached out with his free hand and grabbed her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His tone was firm though, it was the voice he used when he commanded attendants and spoke with his elders. It left no room for argument.

Sakura hadn’t heard that tone directed at her since those first early weeks attending the lord’s wife.

Stepping closer to him, Sakura felt her own frown marring her face. “I don’t understand,” she admitted. Speaking quietly, she continued, “Surely there’s no danger within your clan’s territory, and I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. You know this.”

Madara might not yet know the extent of her fighting prowess, but he had seen the distance she’d thrown that assassin. That had to count for something, surely.

A pit of dread formed at the bottom of Sakura’s stomach. Did Madara think her weak? Would he, like all of Team Seven before him, only see the petite medic that needed to be coddled and protected at all costs? Sakura had trained for so long, fought so hard, for so many years, only to be forever cast aside as useless by those she wanted to protect. Always the one left behind.

Madara let loose a long sigh before leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes he told her, just as quietly, “Even within these walls I cannot guarantee your safety, and as my betrothed you now have a target on your back.” Pulling back enough to look her in the eyes, Madara squeezed her arm again as he said, “I would feel more at ease if I knew someone was with you, watching your back.”

The pit unfurled, releasing Sakura’s from its claws of insecurity and doubt. Madara wasn’t trying to push her off to the side, he just wanted to give her support. Understanding now Madara’s motivations, Sakura felt a soft smile curl across her lips. Placing a hand on his cheek, she reached up and gently pressed her lips to his. A warmth spread throughout her chest as she felt him kiss her back. They hadn’t shared many kisses since Sakura’s accidental proposal to Madara a month ago, but when they did it never failed to make Sakura’s heart flutter wildly. Pulling back, she nodded once, “Okay.”

Not long after the messenger hawk left did Madara follow. Sakura wished him luck and told him to be safe and then she was alone. Knowing this Saburo man was on his way, Sakura did a final check on Izuna–still sleeping–informed the staff that she’d be stepping out for a while, and changed into a new yukata; one that didn’t have dribbles of broth staining it.

An attendant informed Sakura of Saburo’s arrival, and she went to meet him in the genkan. “Oh,” Sakura stopped, surprised by the familiar face. “It’s you.”

Before her stood the ninja Madara sent to find her when Izuna was first injured, the one who had pushed himself far beyond his limits to get her to Izuna before he died. His loyalty and determination had impressed Sakura back then, even if she was more focused on other things at the time. No wonder he was the one Madara chose to be her escort.

“Hello again, Sakura-sama,” he greeted with a small smile. “I apologize for not properly introducing myself to you during our last meeting.” He gave her a much smaller bow than during their first interaction as he said, “I am Uchiha Saburo and I am at your service.”

Sakura waved off his formalities with an awkward smile. “Thank you, Saburo-san, but please, call me Sakura.”

Small smile still in place, Saburo kindly told her, “You’re to marry the clan head, Sakura-sama. Calling you by anything else would be impertinent.”

She shouldn’t have expected anything less, given the time they were living in, but Sakura still found herself disappointed by his response, though she didn’t know exactly why.

They made their way to the market first, where Sakura was able to look through carts filled with pottery, books, plants, and foods. The Uchiha market was nowhere near as large as the one she’d grown up with in Konoha, and wasn’t even the size of some markets she’d passed on her travels, but it did the job well enough. The carts were mostly run by women who happily chatted and called out to their clansmen, enticing them to buy this or that.

Saburo soon turned into quite the tour guide, informing Sakura on who to buy the freshest fish from, who was willing to bargain and who wasn’t, and who had a knack for being able to sell you just the thing you weren’t looking for.

There was a chill in the marketplace though, and no matter how hard she tried, Sakura just couldn’t shake the feeling of frost spreading up along her spine. It grew with every narrowed gaze she met. And every conversation that halted as soon as she walked up made the chill bite a bit harder into her back.

After making a few small purchases, Sakura and Saburo made their way to their next destination.

The Uchiha Apothecary was nothing to write home about. Hashirama hadn’t been kidding when he said the Uchiha were not healers. The Apothecary was a small structure, barely larger than the apartment Naruto had grown up in. Honestly, calling it a shack would be more apt. Most of the space was taken up by jugs filled with liquids of many colors, overgrown plants, crates filled with dried roots or finely crushed powders, and jars filled with herbs and spices. Behind the large counter was a doorway that must’ve led into another room. Sakura could only assume it was where medicines were made and the occasional surgery took place.

Since no one had yet come to greet her, Sakura took her time inspecting the many wares littered about. It seemed that most of the medicines available were anti-inflammatory in nature, and she wondered if that was due to the strain the Sharingan placed on the optic nerves. Perhaps Madara would one day allow her to look at his eyes. She’d only ever examined Kakashi’s eye, and that had been an implant. A pure version of the Sharingan might prove to be a little more difficult, but Sakura was sure that she’d be able to do a better job helping any irritation or degradation than turmeric or hangekobokuto.

She wondered if Madara trusted her enough yet to help him with something so intimate and integral to himself. If he didn’t, Sakura knew in her gut, he would come to do so soon. It was only a matter of time.

A man appeared from the back room. His eyes narrowed as he fully took Sakura in, his mouth convulsing strangely. “Ah, you must be Haruno-sama. Welcome.”

Saburo took a step closer to Sakura, his arms crossing over his chest.

“How may I help you?” The clerk asked, his mouth settling into a thin, frail looking smile.

“Actually, I was hoping it could be the other way around,” Sakura began to explain as she stepped closer to the clerk and the counter he was standing behind. “Before coming to the Uchiha clan, I traveled as a healer. It’s my profession, you see. I was hoping I could be of some use to you here.” Again, the man’s mouth began to twitch in a very peculiar fashion. Sakura dismissed it for now. “Perhaps I could help with the creation of teas and tonics? Or perhaps some salves? I was also thinking–”

“That is very kind of you, Haruno-sama,” the clerk finally interrupted, ”But I do not believe your services would be of much use here.”

Sakura didn’t miss the emphasis on her surname. She had figured that some clan members would have certain feelings about an all but nameless outsider marrying into the clan. It was almost unheard of in this time period. But she had thought, perhaps naively, that some clan members would have appreciated the skills she was bringing to the table, not to mention the fact that she had saved the life of their current heir.

Wanting to give the clerk the benefit of the doubt, Sakura tried a more direct line of questioning. “Not of use or not wanted?”

“What does it matter? When the end result is the same. Now, unless you’d like to purchase anything, I should be getting back to work.”

It was more shocking than Sakura cared to admit, having a fellow healer deny her services based on nothing but petty spite. She really had been spoiled by a post-Tsunade Konoha, where people had been taught to recognize help as help, regardless of how it was presented.

“Sakura-sama’s healing prowess is the reason Izuna-sama is still alive. ” Saburo cut in, his voice hard as steel as he tried to defend Sakura. “She is betrothed to our clan head and will soon become the Uchiha matriarch. You will do well to remember that.”

The clerk narrowed his eyes, but he simply replied, “As you say.”

“Let me see your surgery room,” Sakura said. “If you will not allow me to work directly, then at least let me do this.” It wouldn’t be much, but if Sakura could survey their supplies and levels of sanitation, she could give her input and help make small but necessary changes that would then help future injured clansmen.

“That really is unnecessary, Haruno-sama.” The clerk shook his head, as one did with an unruly child. “We Uchiha are strong. We rarely ever have need for such procedures.”

The door behind them opened with a bang, and a young boy no older than ten was dragged in by two other boys. “Help!”

Blood gushed down the smallest boy's leg.

Not waiting for permission–or even thinking to ask for it–Sakura sprung into action. “Bring him back here,” she ordered.

The two boys, to their credit, didn’t hesitate and did as they were told. Sakura led them into the back room and was horrified to find the state of the surgery room. The floor was covered with soil from plants they were repotting. There was no surgical table in sight nor any instruments that Sakura could easily see. A couple of men were eating their lunch in the corner of the room, eyes wide with fear at the bloody mess that was brought in.

“Saburo, find some fabric and start tearing it into rags for me. Place him here,” she pointed to the space on the floor that she had covered with a thread-bare sheet. It wasn’t anywhere near Sakura’s standards, but it would have to do. “Sir,” she addressed the clerk, “I’ll need you to boil some water and bring it here. Hurry now.” She turned her attention to the boy before her, noticing how pale his face was. Using a chakra scalpel to cut away his pant leg, she asked, “What happened?”

“Training accident,” one of the boys told her.

“I’m sorry Izanagi,” the other boy said, his voice thick with grief and guilt. His eyes were glossy and now that his friend–Izanagi–was in the hands of healers, his mouth pulled back into a terrible grimace. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“With kunai or chakra?” Sakura asked the one boy who wasn’t turning into a watery mess. She cut through his pant leg and surveyed the damage. There was a lot of blood covering Izanagi’s pale skin, making it hard for Sakura to see the wound clearly.

Bringing her the boiled water, the clerk saw the wound and hissed. “I’m afraid the leg will have to be amputated.” He turned to one of his fellow apothecaries and said, “Bring me the opium and a bit.” He looked back down at the leg and sighed, “This won’t be pretty.”

Sakura ignored the men behind her, instead keeping her gaze on Izanagi’s friend as she waited for his response to her question.

“Kunai,” he told her. “Will he really lose his leg?”

“He will be fine.” Saburo brought her the torn fabric, which she immediately dipped into the boiling water. “Saburo, make sure those men stay out of my way.”

“Yes, Sakura-sama.”

The apothecaries argued and moaned their displeasure, but Sakura blocked them and their nonsense out of her head. She used the now sterile rags to wash away most of the blood and saw that the kunai had nicked Izanagi’s femoral artery. He was lucky the cut was so small, any deeper and he would’ve already bled out. As it was, Sakura had to work fast.

Pushing her chakra into his veins, Sakura encouraged the cells of the artery to sew itself back together. Once that was done, she split her focus on replicating his red blood cells to replace what he’d lost, and checking for any signs of blood poisoning or tetanus. There was a small build up of bacteria around the wound that took time to burn away, but once she felt certain the blood and veins were clear, she sealed up the skin and pulled her hands away.

Looking at the boy who hadn’t stopped apologizing since bringing Izanagi into the Apothecary, Sakura asked him, “What’s your name?”

Tracks of tears tore their way through the dirt on his face. Snot leaked from his nose and hiccups escaped from his throat. Unable to take his eyes off of his friend, he told her, “Uchiha Taro.”

“Well Taro, I’m very happy to tell you that Izanagi is going to make a full recovery.”

That finally got the young boy to tear his eyes away and focus on Sakura. “Really?” He sniffed. “He’s not going to die–or–or lose his leg?”

“No,” Sakura gave him a soft smile and reached out to wipe the tears from his face with her sleeve. “He’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

After writing out a list of post-care instructions for Taro to take home with Izanagi, Sakura told them not to hesitate to come fetch her from the main house if his condition worsened or if anything else were to happen. Saburo helped place the now sleeping Izanagi on the tallest boy’s back and then he and Sakura took their leave.

“That was very kind of you,” Saburo said when they were halfway home. “To save that boy even after how the clerk treated you.”

Sakura shrugged. “I meant what I said back there. I want to be of use to the clan. One rude person isn’t going to deter me from achieving that goal.”

Saburo’s answering hum sounded almost like a chuckle. “What a wonder you are, Sakura-sama.”

Brows furrowing, Sakura asked, “What do you mean?”

Smiling wider than she had seen him do before, Saburo shook his head. “It’s nothing. We’re just lucky to have you, is all.”

---------

Sakura sighed as she pushed aside the medical scroll she was currently reading. Madara had gifted it to her earlier that day. He said he’d found it while out on his latest mission with Hashirama to what would eventually become Kusa. It had been the first of Madara’s gifts that Sakura had received in person, and she hadn’t been able to control the lovesick grin that had taken control of her lips.

The scroll was small and didn’t contain information that Sakura didn’t already know, but that wasn’t the point. Madara and Hashirama had been out on a mission, busy with their goal of creating peace treaties and alliances and convincing established clans to join the village, but even with all that on his plate, he still found time to think of her. It had made Sakura deliriously happy.

It was a novel sensation, being a priority. With Naruto, that had always been Sasuke. With Kakashi, his ghosts. Sasuke, his vengeance. Even her beloved teacher, Tsunade, prioritized the village and hospital over her. It was all understandable, of course. She didn’t begrudge any of them for it or think herself deserving of being placed first in their minds or hearts, but it was a very nice thing to experience all the same.

Sometimes Sakura found herself wondering if she should be concerned about how easy it was to be with Madara. First by becoming his friend while working together, then becoming something more as betrotheds, and bit by bit, undeniable and as gentle as a river’s current, an unrivaled fondness was growing in her chest for the man that she had no doubt would one day soon bloom into love. Occasionally she would still have a nightmare or two of the war, of the Madara from her time with the resurrection cracks on his face and the darkness in his eyes. But even when she awoke covered in sweat and a scream caught in her throat, she could separate that Madara from her Madara. Perhaps Sakura should be more concerned with how her brain was compartmentalizing everything she had lived through, but instead she chose not to look too closely at it.

Looking around her room, she sighed again and focused her mind on what was truly bothering her; the Uchiha clan. It had been almost a week since she had healed Izanagi’s leg and still the majority of clansmen were as standoffish and frosty to her as ever. There were exceptions, of course, the attendants in the house were as friendly as they could be, and Saburo had become quite relaxed around her–and Izanagi and his friends had come to give her proper thanks just yesterday, but overall the clan was still very much anti-Sakura.

They were all, of course, polite when she bought things from the market or when she accompanied Madara and the use of small talk was required, but almost everyone treated her with a level of detachment that made Sakura wonder if they’d ever properly accept her. The idea of acceptance irked something deep within her. Not since she was twelve years old and chasing after Sasuke did she care about things like acceptance and fitting in. Or, well, she did a little, but not to that extent. She was an exemplary medic and an amazing kunoichi, dammit! She wasn’t about to let some snobby clan make her feel inferior just because she didn’t share some of their DNA.

Giving herself a firm nod, Sakura decided it was time to fall back on her old strategy. She had been too excited, too naive, and too optimistic after agreeing to marry Madara. Based on his warm welcome into his life, she had made the incorrect assumption that the rest of the clan would follow suit. She needed a new approach to win over the Uchiha, and why fix something that wasn’t broken. Instead of returning to the Apothecary, or trying to engage anyone from the market in conversation, Sakura would let them come to her.

As a traveling medic, she had needed to look like someone not trying to look for work, and with the clan now, she needed to look like someone not trying to gain their approval.

There was a knock at the door, followed by someone calling, “Sakura-sama.” The door opened a moment later, revealing Uchiha Miyoko, Sakura’s new handmaid. Madara had insisted upon hiring her, stating that it was expected for a person of her position. It felt silly, but the girl was only a few years younger than Sakura herself and was kind enough, if a bit shy. Miyoko actually reminded her of Hinata a bit back when they were younger.

“Sakura-sama,” Miyoko bowed in greeting. Just like with Saburo, Miyoko refused to drop the title. “Izuna-sama is awake and asking for you. I’ve told the cook to begin warming up his dinner. Should I have him start on yours as well?”

“Thank you, Miyoko. I’ll join Izuna in a moment. As for dinner,” Sakura trailed off, wondering. Madara hadn’t been sure when he’d return this evening as he and Madara had business that would take up the majority of the day. She’d prefer to wait and eat with him, but there was a chance that he would eat with Hashirama if they worked late enough. “If it’s not too much trouble, have the cook wait an hour before starting my dinner.”

Miyoko nodded, “Of course, miss. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, Miyoko, thank you. I should be able to fend for myself the rest of the night.”

Sakura grabbed a handful of new books she’d picked up the other day in the market and headed towards Izuna’s room. She found him propped up against his pillows, a scowl on his face as he glared up at the ceiling, his hands folded over his belly.

“Should we continue with The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter ? Or would you prefer we try something else? Miyoko told me good things about The Woman of the Snow when she saw it.”

Izuna’s scowl deepened, “Who’s Miyoko?”

Sakura placed the books beside Izuna for him to browse while she gathered the necessary medical supplies. “My handmaid, you’ve seen her. She’s been here for nearly two weeks now.”

Izuna merely grunted.

Turning back towards her patient, Sakura waved her hand towards him, silently telling Izuna to disrobe. “How’s the pain today? Same as this morning?”

As Sakura inspected his wound, she asked several more questions. Izuna answered them easily enough, even if boredom leached into his tone. Eventually someone brought Izuna’s broth, which he glared at as if it had insulted his ancestors. They started reading The Woman in the Snow , which, based on the relaxed state of his mouth, Izuna was enjoying much more than the story of Kaguya-hime.

Sakura’s dinner came, causing Izuna to beg her for a bite. He reached out with hands like a toddler and laughed good naturedly when Sakura slapped them away.

“So cruel to your brother,” he teased, grabbing the fabric over his heart as if he’d been pierced there. “I’ll die of a broken heart.”

Rolling her eyes, Sakura tried–and failed–not to smile at his antics. “Well we can’t have that now can we? How about this–you tell me your favorite meal, and I’ll make sure it’s the first thing you eat when you’re able.”

Appeased, Izuna agreed and they chose another story for Sakura to read aloud. They were halfway through the book, both their dishes having long been cleared away, when Madara returned.

“Brother!” Izuna smiled, brighter than anything Sakura had seen before. His eyes were half-lidded and his words slurred a bit with the early signs of exhaustion. Still, he gained a second wind with the presence of his favorite person. “You’ve returned from the viper’s nest.”

Madara chuckled and came to sit on Izuna’s other side. Brushing back his brother’s bangs, Madara said, “I hope you weren’t too much trouble for Sakura today.”

“I was a delight, thank you very much. Isn’t that right?” He turned his dark eyes to Sakura.

“He was,” Sakura agreed. Then, because she couldn’t see a reason not to, she teased, “It was a lovely change of pace.”

Izuna scoffed but didn’t argue.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” Sakura asked Madara, her eyes quickly evaluating him for any noticeable scratches or scrapes. Besides looking a little sweaty and dirty, he looked perfectly fine. “I can make something for you.” The cook had left for the evening, but Sakura knew there’d be enough ingredients in the kitchen leftover for a simple soup.

Madara shook his head. “I already ate, but thank you.”

“What all was decided on today, then?” Izuna asked as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Go on and tell us.”

Sitting up straighter, almost preening with excitement, Madara told them, “I do have some exciting news, actually. We finally decided on a name.” A small, almost shy smile snuck onto his lips. “Konohagakure.”

“Village Hidden in the Leaves,” Izuna hummed as he tested the name on his lips. “I like it.”

Madara continued on with his tales of the day, expressing his relief over the fact that the Nara clan had officially accepted their offer to join the village, and that several other clans planned to join as well, some moving from as far as the islands of modern day Mist. They were mostly busy building the village’s infrastructure. With Hashirama’s Wood Release, it sped the process up tremendously, but he was only one man and they needed to house many people. Tobirama had been a pebble in his shoe all day, arguing about this and that, such as where to place each clan or how many houses would be needed for the civilians that were bound to seek refuge. Almost nothing could be agreed upon between the two men.

Izuna’s eyes fluttered closed at some point during Madara’s story, his grunts of acknowledgement and snide remarks about the Senju trailing off into soft snores. Watching the steady rise and fall of Izuna’s chest, Sakura decided to call it a night for the younger Uchiha and began to remove some of his pillow so he’d lay flat on his futon. Madara followed her out on silent feet.

“Would you join me for a walk?” Madara asked, his eyes warm and wholly focused on her. He held out a hand to her in offering.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Sakura easily accepted his hand. “I’d love to.”

---------

It was a few days later when Miyoko found Sakura alone in the kitchen as she crushed roots and herbs down to almost nothing. Izuna was resting in his room and Madara was off with Hashirama once again, leaving Sakura with an abundance of time on her hands. With that time, she had created a little Apothecary of her own. So far she had filled nearly fifty jars with different types of medicinal powders, made several blends of healing teas, and started converting an empty storehouse into a greenhouse so she could grow her own plants.

Madara had gifted her with a new set of knives, each one sharper than the other, after his last overnight adventure. Sakura wasn’t sure if he was doing this out of a sense of guilt for having to leave her so often, or if he just took pleasure in seeing the goofy grin that never failed to appear on her face whenever he surprised her. Regardless, Sakura had been sure to show him her appreciation with an assault of kisses.

The knives laid off to the side, stored in a leather knife roll, just next to an opened journal. Another project idea Sakura had the other night was to record as much of her medical knowledge as she could. While she couldn’t document all of her knowledge–not yet, anyway–she figured it could one day be of help to someone, somewhere. If not, then at least it gave her something to do.

Miyoko cleared her throat gently to catch Sakura’s attention. Looking up at her handmaid, she asked, “Yes, Miyoko? What is it?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sakura-sama. It’s only–I was hoping you could look at my uncle’s back, if it isn’t too much trouble,” the young girl said, her cheeks pink as she avoided Sakura’s gaze. “He’s a farmer, you see, and his livelihood depends on his ability to work. Only recently,” she trailed off, “recently he’s been struggling.”

“Of course,” Sakura replied easily. “Would he be alright with me examining him? I wouldn’t want to create more strain on his body with my presence.” She thought of how stiff the apothecary always became, whenever he saw her in the market. If Miyoko’s uncle had a similar response to her, then she’d be doing more harm than good.

Looking more than a little confused, the girl shook her head. “Oh no, miss! I’m sure he’d be grateful for someone of your caliber looking after him. Only,” she bit her lip, “I don’t have much to pay you with. I’ve got a few coins put away, and I’m sure that over time I could–”

“The price is negotiable.” Sakura replied automatically. Shaking her head, she amended, “Besides, there’s no need, Miyoko.” She bit her lip, wanting to say that by marrying Madara, her healing gifts were at the disposal of the clan, but she wasn’t sure if a statement like that would be well received. Instead, she went with, “Consider it repayment for helping me all these past few weeks while I’ve stayed here.”

“Oh no, Sakura-sama, I insist.” Miyoko shook her head quite aggressively. “Taking care of you is my job and Madara-sama pays me well to do so. It wouldn’t be right to treat that as a tradable favor.”

Sakura sighed softly. Uchiha’s and their pride. “Perhaps an invitation to dinner, then? Along with your uncle if he’s feeling up to it.”

“Dinner, Sakura-san?”

“Dinner,” Sakura nodded. “Most nights I eat with Madara or Izuna, or both. Or neither.” She shrugged, trying not to think about the seeds of loneliness that had buried themselves deep within her bones and that ached more now when she had people to laugh and enjoy time with than when she had no one at her side. The sensation had left Sakura more confused than anything else, and she did her best to push those feelings away.

Trying to appeal to Miyoko’s humor, she added, “It’d be a nice change of pace to eat with someone who didn’t scowl the entire meal.”

Miyoko let out a laugh, though it was a quiet thing that didn’t last long. “Well I’m not sure my uncle will make for better company, but we’d be happy to host you. Would tonight work?”

Sakura nodded, “Tonight’s just fine. We can leave after I’ve helped Izuna and changed his bandages.”

Izuna had been drowsier than usual today. There was no sign of infection or other maladies, making Sakura suspect he’d been over exerting himself when she wasn’t looking and causing his body to require more rest to make up for it. She’d talk to him about it tomorrow when he was hopefully more coherent.

After a few more hours of work, and calling on Saburo to meet her for a quick escort through the market and to Miyoko’s home, the two women made it safely to their destination well before sunset with their arms full of groceries.

“Uncle!” Miyoko called out. After shuffling off her shoes, she made her way to the kitchen with her groceries. “I’ve brought someone to look at your back!”

Sakura followed along quietly, observing the household discreetly. It was the first time she’d been allowed into another Uchiha’s house. It was much different than Madara’s mansion, though that was to be expected when comparing the dwellings of the clan head versus a common farmer. The layout wasn’t very much different than other homes she’d been invited to while traveling, though this one was decorated with copious amounts of Uchiha fans and looked worn and tried in a way that implied many generations of Miyoko’s family had lived here before her uncle.

The small kitchen was attached to the dining room, and Miyoko puttered around, pulling up pots and pans to start on their dinner. She took a teapot down from where it was hanging on a hook and filled it with water for their tea.

“Uncle?” Miyoko called again once the water was over the fire. She walked further into the back of the home, past the small bathing room and into the bedroom where her uncle laid on his futon with a frown on his face.

“Mah, Miyoko,” the older man grumbled, “I told you not to bother. My back will be as good as new with a few more days of rest.” He eyed Sakura as she walked in behind his niece. “What’s this? A witch?”

“Uncle!” Miyoko chastised as she began to close his windows for privacy. “Show some respect. This is Sakura-sama, renowned medic and Madara-sama’s betrothed.”

“ You’re the one that surly cousin of ours has decided to spend his life with?” He snorted. “What did you do in your past life to deserve that?” Then, he eyed her from head to toe and said, “It’ll sure be interesting to see how dominant the Uchiha genes are against yours. Can you imagine, Miyoko? An Uchiha with pink hair? Hah!”

Miyoko winced and threw Sakura an apologetic grimace. “Uncle, Sakura-sama has been kind enough to examine you. The least you could do is hold your tongue.”

Miyoko’s uncle waved a hand at her lazily. “Oh, Miyoko, I only tease. You know that. Besides, if Sakura-sama here is serious about marrying into our family, she should know what she’s getting into.”

Doing her best to keep her hands from balling into fists and giving the old man a good whack on the head, Sakura plastered a professional smile onto her face. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

Miyoko excused herself to start making dinner as Sakura listened to her patient tell her of occasional back pain that could vary between a mild irritant and debilitating pain that sometimes caused one of his legs to stop working. After a quick push of chakra into his body, Sakura determined his problem to be a herniated disk.

Helping him pull down his yukata to his waist and roll over onto his stomach, Sakura placed her hand on the base of his spine and began the process of pushing the affected disk back into place and healing the exterior casing that had cracked.

“So, Sakura-sama,” he began as silence had settled in the room, “is that hair color of yours hereditary, or a mutation?”

Tutting, Sakura asked, “Worried I might pollute your clan’s genes?”

“Mah,” he shrugged, “we need new genes every now and then to survive. We know that. Consider me curious.” He paused, but Sakura waited, something telling her he had more to say. “Your coloring is very beautiful, Sakura-sama. Pink isn’t a color I’m used to seeing. Now red, that’s a color I see all the time, almost as much as black.”

He chuckled a humorless laugh, and Sakura felt it rattle through her head. He was being much nicer to her now. She wondered if it was because he was on his stomach, not looking at her, or because of her chakra stealing his pain away. Maybe it was a secret third thing.

Feeling a little less antagonized, Sakura felt some tension leave her shoulders as she told him, “It’s genetic, from my father’s side, though his was paler than mine.” She was about to tell him she was finished with his back, but then paused. “I’m sorry, I never caught your name. Miyoko only referred to you as uncle.”

“I’ll be your uncle soon enough, I don’t mind if you start calling me that now. If you really need to know, though, it’s Masaru.”

Sakura smiled. He was showing her kindness, in his own way, and she’d accept what she could get. Pulling her hands back, she nodded and said, “Well, you’re as good as new Masaru-ojisan.”

Pushing himself to lean up on one arm, Masaru stuck out his tongue as he moved this way and that, testing Sakura’s words. Nodding his approval, he sat up properly and readjusted his yukata. “So,” he clapped his hands together, “what’s for dinner?”

---------

“Where to today, Sakura-sama?” Saburo asked. In his hands was a small bag filled with sunflower seeds that he was practically inhaling. “Back to the market?”

Sakura shook her head. “No, today we’re heading out towards the fields to forage for some plants that I’ll need to make antidotes.”

Saburo stopped in his tracks, his hand paused on his journey towards his mouth with the seeds still pinched between his fingers. “The fields?” He asked, a line forming between his brows. “Outside of the compound, you mean?”

“Yes,” Sakura answered with a raised brow.

“Have you asked Madara-sama for his permission?”

A vein in Saura’s forehead twitched with irritation and she had to take a deep breath before responding. “Madara is my betrothed, not my master. I don’t need his permission.”

“That’s not what I meant, Sakura-sama,” Saburo shook his head vigorously, his eyes growing wide. “I just meant that it might not be safe and Madara-sama might not like you going outside the walls alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“Yes,” Saburo said slowly, “and that’s fine for when we’re in the village, but–”

“I’m going with or without you,” Sakura cut him off, already continuing on her path. “You can either come with me and keep me company or run back to Madara to get his permission.” Sakura knew her capabilities and wasn’t in the mood to try and prove herself to Saburo. It was one thing for Madara to request she have him around to watch her back, it was something else entirely to have a baby sitter. She wasn’t some delicate flower that needed to be sheltered and hidden away. She’d lived alone for almost two years before coming to live with the Uchiha and she’d survived just fine, thank you very much.

The sound of Saburo’s footsteps hurrying behind her reached her ears and soon enough he was walking astride her once again. His bag of seeds had been hidden away, his posture and gaze had turned sharper. Sakura almost wanted to tell him to relax, that he’d be safe with her, but she doubted he’d appreciate it at the moment.

“We need to be quick,” he told her, the furrow of his brows deepening. “Even with the truce between Senju and Uchiha, there’s no telling who we may run into. Anyone with a grudge against the Uchiha may decide to take their revenge out on us.”

Barely suppressing a sigh, Sakura agreed. “It shouldn’t take me more than an hour to find what I need.”

“And you’re sure the market won’t have these plants? Or the Apothecary?”

“I’m sure.” She’d already checked.

Saburo groaned, but seemed to accept his fate and continued on at Sakura’s side in silence.

Miyoko had been the one to tell her about this field when she’d caught Sakura grumbling under her breath about the lack of supplies against poisons. The best item she could find within the whole compound was charcoal, and that could only do so much. If they found themselves up against a poison expert like Sasori, they’d be devastated. Miyoko had suggested Sakura take a look at the plants in this field to see if it had what she needed. If it didn’t, then she’d have to wait months for the finalizations of Konoha to try and buy ingredients from other clans–if they were even willing to sell them–and patience was never one of Sakura’s strengths.

Once they arrived, Sakura slid the bamboo basket off her back and waded through the tall grasses in search of her treasures. Saburo stalked off, telling her he’d monitor the perimeter, and Sakura had hummed in acknowledgment. This field would be a modest start when it came to antidotes. There was plenty of jewel weed and dock plant littered about which were always helpful with rashes, and she could cut some bark off of some trees to make tea with, but soon she’d need to do more.

Fire Country was home to a great many dangerous creatures, all that could be used to create terrible weapons. She’d need to milk certain snakes and spiders and collect slime from several frogs and toads to feel properly prepared. In a pinch, Sakura could always extract the poison from a victim’s bloodstream and use a sample to reverse engineer an antidote, but that process was timely and chakra draining. Having pre-made antidotes was a much more sustainable method.

She’d filled her basket halfway when she felt it; eyes on the back of her head. Spinning around with her hands already raised and curled into fists, Sakura found herself staring across the field at Senju Tobirama.

Swearing up a storm in her head, Sakura tried to keep her voice level as she asked, “Where’s Saburo?”

Tilting his head to the side, Tobirama’s red eyes narrowed. “If you mean your guard, he’s fine. I’ve stuck him in a genjutsu and will release him when I’m finished here.”

Knowing she’d already be dead if that was what he wanted–she was good, but she wasn’t Nidaime good–she asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to meet you, to see if you were all they said you were.” He took a step closer, his eyes pinning her in place. “My brother speaks very highly of you, you know. The miracle worker who saved Uchiha Izuna from death’s door and the woman who thawed Uchiha Madara’s frozen heart. You seem too good to be true.”

It took every ounce of Sakura’s control not to take a step back for every step forward Tobirama took towards her. She knew that if she fled he’d only catch her, and she wasn’t sure what would happen then. Still, she wouldn’t stand there helpless either. Shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, Sakura readied herself to dodge. Drawing chakra into her hands, she also prepared to reap devastation across this bit of land in an attempt to survive.

“I’ve heard many interesting things about you, Haruno Sakura. It would appear you’re second to none in your field and yet you come from no known clan.” He stopped only a few feet away from her. “You’re a good person, you help whoever you can, whenever you can for little or no money. So I find myself asking, why is this bright and wonderful woman, with no political affiliations, marrying into such a horrible clan?”

“Excuse me?” Trepidation gave way to anger at his question, leading Sakura to speak without thinking. “What business is it of yours?”

Senju Tobirama was a man Sakura had grown up admiring. Second Hokage of Konoha, he was credited with the creation of hundreds of jutsus, Konoha’s ANBU, the ninja academy, and even the chuunin exams. He set the example that other hidden villages followed when it came to running themselves. He was a giant among shinobi, and yet here he was, asking Sakura why she was marrying Madara. It didn’t make any sense.

His eyes flashed–with what, Sakura didn’t know–and he looked her over from top to bottom. “Has Madara told you yet, about the Curse of Hatred that plagues the Uchiha clan?”

A shiver ran straight down Sakura’s spine. She’d heard that phrase only once before, during the war against the Madara in the future. She hadn’t fully understood it at the time, and now she was ready to dismiss it immediately. Curses didn’t exist.

“To activate their kekkei genkai they must experience extremely painful traumas,” Tobirama explained, taking her silence as a no. “The power of the Sharingan eventually consumes them, leading them to do anything within their power to show off their superiority. If you marry into this clan, it will surely claim you as a victim as well. You should save yourself while you still can.”

Sakura scoffed, causing Tobirama to blink in surprise. “Save myself from what? Superstitions?” Feeling emboldened by her anger and more confident that Tobirama wouldn’t kill her, Sakura placed her hands on her hips and raised a single brow. “All that just sounds like the most anti-Uchiha propaganda I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think this is just a symptom of your own prejudice?”

“It’s true,” Tobirama persisted, his jaw tightening. “All Uchiha are bound by the same fate. I’ve never met a single clansman who could prove otherwise.”

Sakura thought about all the Uchihas she’d met in her lifetime. All Sharingan users she knew had activated it through trauma, yes, and Sasuke and Itachi both fell victim to paths of vengeance, but if Sakura had to guess, that had more to do with the actual trauma they’d lived through than any supposed curse. Madara and Izuna were just as sane as anyone else she’d ever met. Masaru was cranky with age, but sweet in his own way, and Miyoko could barely raise her voice at her uncle, much less assert her superiority over another person.

“Well,” Sakura said dryly, “I imagine it’s hard to get to know a person when you’re only ever meeting them on the battlefield.” Pausing to wet her lips, Sakura considered her words for only a moment before adding, “I’ve heard of you too, Senju Tobirama. You’re a genius, there’s no denying that. In fact, I doubt there’s a mind alive in the world right now that could compare to yours.”

Tobirama’s jaw slackened just enough to lose the tight tendon of tension that was pulsating against the skin. His brows furrowed with what Sakura could only imagine was confusion.

“But you have a lot to learn when it comes to human nature and empathy.” Sakura continued, unable to stop the sharing of her thoughts. “I think that if you were to try and put yourself in Madara’s shoes, to think as he does for just a short amount of time, you’d realize that the two of you have much more in common than you’d ever thought possible.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Tobirama said immediately and without any hesitation. “I know all I need to know about Uchiha Madara and his clan. There is nothing more for me to learn.”

It was no wonder that the Uchiha felt ostracized by Konoha, if this was how their leadership spoke about them.

Sakura could see that there was no arguing with him. He was too stubborn and set in his ways to think any differently. For now, at least. Perhaps as the two men continued working together towards the common goal of Konoha, and with the addition of Izuna this time around, opinions could be changed.

Tobirama left not long after that, and Saburo arrived almost right after with wide, panicked eyes and a heaving chest. He’d demanded that they return to the Uchiha compound, and Sakura agreed, not wanting to press her luck. Saburo stayed by her side until Madara returned home, at which time he fell into a deep bow to his patriarch and begged forgiveness.

Madara’s eyes bled red as Saburo told him how he was trapped in a genjutsu and didn’t realize anything was amiss until Tobirama had already left. Madara dismissed him with a wave of his hand and Saburo didn’t waste any time fleeing the house.

“I’ll kill him” Madara hissed, the tomoes in his eyes spinning rapidly. “He’s tested my patience one too many times.” Swiftly, he prowled the halls, grabbing weapons and armor as he went.

Sakura trailed behind, grabbing at his sleeve in an attempt to slow him down. “Madara, please, just wait. It’s okay–”

“Nothing about this is ok!” He growled, turning to bare his teeth at her. “And what were you thinking? Leaving the compound like that without my permission?”

“ Permission? ” Sakura squawked. He was treating her like some prisoner! And over what? A conversation? “Madara, you need to calm down. I’m fine–”

“ You could have died! ” He roared. Then, quick as lightning, she was pulled against Madara’s chest. His arms held her as close as possible without crushing her. Tremors rippled through his body, bleeding into her own, as his body tried to wrestle with his blinding rage and unadulterated fear.

Hiding his face into the crook of her neck, his voice was barely more than a broken whisper as he said again, “You could have died . And there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I’ve lost so many loved ones already, Sakura,” he admitted with a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can stand to lose another one.”

Raising her hands to embrace him back, Sakura hugged him tight. Tears pooled behind her eyes at his confession. She hadn’t meant to scare him. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. And what made it worse was that she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to comfort him now that they were here. She couldn’t promise him nothing would ever happen to her. That would ring empty and false. What could she apologize for? Not for leaving, her pride wouldn’t allow for that.

All she could do was hold onto him as tightly as he was holding onto her and whisper, “I’m here. I’m still here,” into his ear.

He nodded against her neck. They were pressed so close she could hear the thickness of his swallow. Sakura rubbed a hand up and down his back, her fingers following along the ridges of his spine, hoping Madara found the motion soothing. They stayed like that until his shaking subsided, and then stayed like that for a while longer.

If there was a curse on the Uchiha clan, it wasn’t one of hate, but of love. Life in the warring states period wasn’t easy for anyone. Madara’s fear of losing his loved ones was one founded in reality. Sakura would have to be more mindful of that in the future. She wouldn’t budge on her autonomy or independence, but she could do a better job keeping Madara apprised of her movements, especially now that she knew she’d caught the attention of Senju Tobirama.

“Come,” Sakura eventually said, pulling away so she could clasp his hand in hers. She pulled him towards Izuna’s room, hoping that having two of his precious people within arms reach of each other might help calm his nerves. “Let me see to Izuna, and then we can spend the remainder of the day with each other.”

She intertwined their fingers for extra measure and was glad to see a small smile appear on his face as his eyes returned to black.

Giving her hand a squeeze, Madara leaned in to kiss Sakura’s forehead. “I would like that very much.”

#madasaku

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