Disclaimer: Naruto, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this cartoon does not belong to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.


Title: Enigma.

Summary: Mr. Madara Uchiha has a certain reputation that sends his unlucky new students scrambling for a transfer on the very first day of each semester. Sakura Haruno, one such unlucky new student, decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Pairings: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara, unrequited Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, slight Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Obito, slight Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto.


Chapter VII: Private Moments


On Friday afternoon, Ino finally cornered her right before she was due to meet with Mr. Uchiha. Sakura had dodged her questions for days and insisted that she hadn't meant anything by her comment. It was a joke—apparently not a funny one.

The blonde girl remained unconvinced but came to the conclusion that she couldn't do anything to force a name out of her. She changed tactics, feigning disinterest, but Sakura saw right through it. Ino could be patient when it suited her needs, and it was crucial, now more than ever, that she monitor what she said around her nosy friend.

Ino, inspired by the awakening of Sakura's sexuality, dabbed lip gloss on her mouth and undid the top button of her uniform blouse. With a parting sentiment of, "You're too guarded in the way you dress. Loosen up, Forehead. You'll need a miracle to impress this guy," she let her go. Thankfully, she didn't wait around for the end of the coaching session—it would have been all too telling.

With legs too shaky to do the job, Sakura clutched the edge of Mr. Uchiha's desk for support. Her spine was bent, as was her neck, as she hung her head and panted like she had just finished swimming upstream with her arms tied at the small of her back. Above her thrumming pulse, her skin simmered with unfulfilled desire. She replayed the encounter in her mind, turning it over and over in overly critical analysis.

"Behave yourself," he had murmured in gentle reprimand, twisting out of her weak clutches with a flick of his wrists. "I expect to see you and Mr. Uzumaki for tutoring tomorrow. Don't forget."

The classroom was dim; Mr. Uchiha had turned off the lights when he departed for his meeting—following a suggestion that she take a few minutes to compose herself. He promised to return to lock his door and expressed that he didn't want to find her lingering. Punishment for disobedience wasn't mentioned, probably because he knew she wasn't bold enough to risk it. But, perhaps, punishment didn't hold such a negative connotation as long as it garnered his attention.

He knows.

It was both liberating and damning. With the realization of her inappropriate feelings came a permanent shift to their relationship, a darkness settling in her abdomen and stirring her senses into a frenzy. Mr. Uchiha knew what his touch did to her. He knew how his voice distracted her into arousal, how his presence sapped her strength at the knees and threatened to send them crashing to the floor.

Sakura didn't expect him to take advantage of it, but the fact that it was their secret made her yearn for future interactions, to see if his gaze lingered just a bit more on her than anyone else. Was he at all affected?

Her innards churned with excitement and sickness over the thought of what he could do with such forbidden knowledge if he had the inclination.

Inexperienced Sakura couldn't begin to describe just how the thought of being with a man, not a boy, made her feel. When she imagined his large hands encompassing her hips, she didn't think of his age in comparison to hers and especially not in numerical values. When she pictured kissing him, it was the taste of his lips, not the consequences, that she obsessed over. Part of the allure lay in how taboo, filthy, and dark such thoughts were. With only her fantasies to spur her on, it didn't ring dangerous or ill-advised. She liked him. She trusted him to take the lead and knew he wouldn't purposefully hurt her.

Still, she was a little nervous.

It doesn't matter, she firmly told herself. Nothing is going to happen between us. He didn't seem interested—and why would he be? Don't kid yourself.

Having successfully dampened her frustration, she was able to compose herself enough to peek outside for bystanders. With no one in sight in the silent hallway, she fled.


That highly anticipated Saturday came.

Sakura, a licensed driver, borrowed her mother's car to pick up Naruto for their morning tutoring with Mr. Uchiha. GPS guided her to his house, and she did her best to keep her nerves in check on the drive. Her blond friend, who passionately detested waking up early in the morning, complained the entire way, but she couldn't muster an ounce of comfort.

They arrived at the end of the stretch of driveway and parked beside Mr. Uchiha's car. Previous reluctance forgotten, Naruto raced up to the front door before she finished unbuckling her seat belt, and she hurried to join him on the stoop after retrieving her backpack from the back seat.

Sasuke was the one to answer the door. He leaned against the frame and crossed his arms as if to ask, "What do you want?" even though the tutoring session was his idea. Sakura knew he enjoyed those little moments when he could be difficult and tease them, especially Naruto.

"Good morning, Sasuke!" she chirped, undeterred by his answering grunt.

"Yeah, yeah, move aside already," Naruto grumbled rudely, adjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

"What are you in a hurry for?" Sasuke scoffed. "You're early. Madara's still in the shower."

"Aw, what? See, Sakura, I told you we shouldn't have left so early!"

"Uh-huh," she muttered intelligently, too distracted by the thought of Mr. Uchiha's warm, dripping masculinity to formulate a proper defense. Thankfully, the boys weren't interested; Sasuke shifted his weight slightly, and Naruto took the opening to brush past him and disappear into the depths of the house.

Snapping out of it, Sakura followed Sasuke inside, closing the door behind her. While she removed her shoes, her two friends turned a corner, and she made to follow—until she spotted something more interesting in her peripheral vision.

"Bu!" she squealed, forgetting herself. She immediately slapped a hand over her traitorous mouth, mortified, anticipating a reprimand before it came.

"For a second, I thought baby Sasuke was crawling around again." A fully awake Obito joined her in the living room and smirked in his half-concealed way at her expression of mute horror. He took a seat on the couch closest to her, and a mewling Bu climbed up next to him. "It's okay. I won't tell Madara."

"Sorry, I totally forgot…"

"No worries. I'm awake, aren't I?"

"But I didn't know that," she pointed out with a grimace. "I need to be more mindful in the future."

"Implying you'll be our regular guest?" Obito teased. Perhaps it was her imagination, but he didn't seem too opposed to the idea. Then again, he since presented so companionable a demeanor that it was difficult to decipher what he was truly feeling. It was, in a way, a little unnerving.

"Oh. I mean… if I'm invited."

"You're welcome anytime."

Sakura smiled, equal parts charmed and flustered. "As long as it's okay with your uncle, of course. I wouldn't want to assume…"

"Nonsense," he replied smoothly, dragging his eyes from her form to somewhere behind her. "Right, Uncle?"

"That remains to be seen," Mr. Uchiha said, ever blandly.

Sakura straightened her back almost violently at the intonation of his voice and turned her torso slightly to look at him. While it wasn't a particularly flattering response, it heated her skin in memory of Friday afternoon. She hadn't considered how her body was going to react to being near him again, but she could already tell it was going to be a trying session. Her heart hammered in her ears, and she was so, so excited for no reason whatsoever.

With his midnight-black hair damp, disheveled, and partially hanging across his face, he presented an even more devastating image than his usual tidy one. She was doomed.

"Follow me, Ms. Haruno," the Uchiha patriarch said with little ceremony. He beckoned for her to accompany him as he passed by the kitchen doorway and through to where Naruto and Sasuke had gone.

"Excuse me, Obito," Sakura squeaked apologetically, offering a stilted bow to the inclination of his head, before scurrying after Mr. Uchiha.

She smoothed down her skirt—a regular black one a little shorter than her uniform but still modestly below the knees. Her navy-blue cotton blouse, a long-sleeved V-neck, exposed her prominent collarbone, which had been misted with a delicately scented fragrance. Her makeup, as always, was understated, but she followed Ino's lead and glossed her thin lips once again. Her outfit was as bold as she dared, showcasing only a hint of skin while maintaining a strict sense of propriety.

The three of them—Naruto having been snagged along the way—settled in what could only be Mr. Uchiha's personal office, located up a flight of stairs, adjacent to the closed door of his bedroom, and down the hall from Sasuke's bedroom. Bookcases circumscribed a handsome oak desk in the middle of the room, and every shelf held texts or sentimental paraphernalia. The surface of the desk was organized similar to its counterpart at the high school; papers, held together with clips and staples, were neatly stacked to one side, and a desk lamp, clear of dust, illuminated the glossy wood. Two comfortable chairs awaited them on the opposite side.

Sakura slid her backpack off and busied herself with unloading her burden, consisting of plenty of paper, mechanical pencils, and all of the assigned books, as instructed, at her corner of the desk, and Naruto soon did the same at his corner.

After he closed the door, Mr. Uchiha dropped into his own chair and idly drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk, waiting for them to narrow their undivided attention on him. "So, what would you say gives you the most trouble in my class, Mr. Uzumaki—other than breathing and thinking at the same time?"

"Everything," Naruto muttered, ignoring the insult in favor of, for once, sucking up his pride. He knew how important this was, that he couldn't afford to slack or cause a fight. "I just can't remember all the terms, and, when you tell us to analyze books, I don't know what you're lookin' for, exactly. Like, how am I supposed to know what the author meant?"

Mr. Uchiha pondered his words for a few moments before instructing him to take out his notebook and ready his pencil. Despite not being acknowledged, Sakura did the same to keep Naruto motivated. To start with, their teacher went over each literary term in depth, twisting their definitions in a way that the blond boy, with his brow furrowed in rare concentration, could follow.

"Okay, a theme is an idea, and a symbol is an object… I think I'm gettin' it!"

"Indeed." At some point, he had started peeling the orange he brought with him. "Read the first paragraph of Valley of Waste to yourself and tell me if you think there's a theme or symbol there."

Sakura felt a little put-out—completely ignored. Mr. Uchiha knew she didn't require any tutoring and didn't ask her to answer his questions or write down his mini-lectures. Even when she shifted her leg, accidentally knocking her knee against his under the desk, he didn't once react to her presence, looking far too interested in his snack.

Naruto hummed in contemplation as he finished reading. "Y'know, I think it's kind of weird that the author said so much about that bird showin' up. Makes it seem important. Maybe that's because it's a symbol?"

"My, my, we are learning something today. Very good. Based on the symbol and the protagonist's imprisonment, you could expect 'freedom' as a prevalent theme, wouldn't you say? It's often synonymous with birds."

"Well… I guess so, yeah. I mean, who wants to read a book about someone who sits in a cage the whole time? There's no action."

"Hn. You'd be surprised what sort of battles can be fought in the mind."

Sakura hid her frown in her hand as she cupped her chin and propped her face up with her elbow. As proud of Naruto as she was, she didn't want to sit stagnant the entire time. Should she have not intruded on the tutoring? After all, she still had questions to ask Obito, and she wanted to catch him before he fell asleep again. She debated how to best take her leave.

"If 'freedom' is the theme, why does he lock himself up again?" Naruto asked, appearing legitimately puzzled.

"He knows he has trouble controlling his anger and is prone to blackouts, during which he hurts some of the villagers in the crossfire. The point of the story is learning to let go of the past."

"Then why does he let his friend in when he knows seein' her like that is gonna piss him off so badly? I mean, of course, he's gonna want revenge on the guys who did that to her."

"Perhaps… he simply couldn't help himself." Mr. Uchiha's eyes darted toward Sakura for the briefest moment. She blinked back to attention. "Even the strongest-willed man can fall bewitched to a woman if she puts her mind to it."

"That's why they end up fucking, huh?" Naruto retorted dryly, making Sakura jolt. He nonchalantly scratched at his chin. "Why'd you pick such a dirty book, anyway?"

"It's my duty as a teacher to prepare my students; some of the passages are on Konoha University's entrance exam."

"Not those ones?"

"No, Mr. Uzumaki. Not those ones."

Naruto snickered triumphantly to himself.

"Tell me, Ms. Haruno," Mr. Uchiha began decisively, holding her senses aloft, "what do you find gives you the most trouble in my class?"

"Bathroom break!" the blond boy abruptly declared, racing out of the room after flinging the door wide open. He had a terrible habit of holding it until the very last moment and leaving everything in the dust. "Hey, Sasuke, where's your bathroom at?!"

"Oh. Um…" Sakura fought for something to say. "I guess I would have to say…"

In the awkward silence, he offered one of his orange slices to her, and she gratefully accepted it, brushing fingertips with his. It was very decadent—sweeter than she expected—and she wanted another taste, particularly that of the slice he just popped into his mouth.

"Can I have more?"

He smirked faintly at her, lounging back in his chair and appraising her with a thorough, languid gaze that made her feel terribly vulnerable. Just when she thought he was going to decline her by way of prolonged silence, he asked, "What are you prepared to do?"

Sakura's breath caught, and she leaned forward, as if to chase him. Her answer, ill-filtered, came out as a sinful murmur that barely breached the gap between them: "Anything."

"Then come get it," he dared, low and dark, devouring another piece of the steadily vanishing orange. His onyx-black eye, the only one not covered by his spiky hair, pierced her. The sleeves of the dark buttoned-up shirt he wore were pushed up, exposing his forearms, which he rested on the arms of his seat. She desperately wanted them pressed against her back, to feel them twitch and clench as his ironclad self-control faltered.

Her pale eyelashes fluttered at the enticingly graveled quality of his voice. She entertained half-formed fantasies of what she would do if she had the courage, but both of them knew she was far too timid to approach a man like him. And Naruto was due back at any moment.

Still, how she yearned.

How he knew she yearned.

"You're practically salivating," Mr. Uchiha observed mercilessly. "Always more fixated on my mouth than the words coming out of it."

The Uchiha family was rife with insufferable teases, men who thought they were too beautiful to behold, untouchable to mere mortals such as herself. They were arrogant, conceited, and wicked creatures—Sasuke and his uncle especially.

After years of rebuff, Sakura was desperate to hold her own. Swallowing her anxiety, she stood from her chair, placed her hands on his desk, and shifted forward to loom suggestively over him. He eyed her with mild interest, and she strongly resisted the urge to tug her neckline up when his gaze dropped about her throat.

Mr. Uchiha's smirk held fast until he broke it to eat. During his momentary distraction, one of Sakura's hands shot out. She stole the remainder of the fruit, plopped back down in her chair, and enjoyed another succulent slice.

Wholly unfazed by her theft, he crossed his arms.

"Want them back?" she whispered, hoping he didn't notice the tremble in her wrists. The tip of her tongue flicked across her upper lip, tasting the flavored lip gloss smeared there. Their little game was escalating bit-by-bit, still relatively tame, but she was already so bothered. "Come get them."

Before Mr. Uchiha could answer, Naruto, oblivious to the tension that had formed in his absence, bounded back in and effectively killed the mood by praising the toilet paper. Sakura quickly finished the fruit before her friend noticed it.