Ok, so before I forget…two things to announce. Fan art for this fic is up on my tumblr and can be found by going to my blog (exact same url as my username here) and searching "a stitch in time". But more importantly, there's another poll created for this story. Now, I'm not promising anything, but for a long, long time now I've been thinking of bumping the rating up to accommodate certain more mature themes I'd like to explore. I've been tentative of this, mindful of the fact that certain fics get targeted at random, it seems, for mature content and then flagged/forcefully removed. So I won't explicitly say what those "mature themes" are (just in case), but you can feel free to guess. ;) The poll results don't guarantee anything, let me reiterate. The decision ultimately still lies with me, but I'd be interesting in knowing what readers are keen to see—or not see. Anyway, voting is open either way.
The sight of Yumegakure on the horizon was, ironically, the oasis in the desert. The minute Sakura caught a whiff of the sea breeze on the wind and saw the small houses that made up the quaint, seaside village, her chest lightened. They had managed to arrive with a half days' worth of time to spare. Sakura smiled to herself, relaxed by the blue sky striped with clouds and the cozy atmosphere surrounding the little village.
Though there was no doubt they stood out, no one looked at them with anything akin to hostility as they walked the cobblestone streets—a considerable distance from each other, for her sanity. A burly man walked by with a net of fish slung over his strong back, whistling an unfamiliar tune. When they nearly bumped shoulders, he took the time to tip his cap at her as he walked by.
The people of Yume were clearly use to travelers passing through, as aside from some curiosity or a few waves in greeting, no one spared them much of a second look. 'There's something about a seaside town,' she thought pleasantly.
It brought fond memories of missions to portside towns when she was younger. Missions with her own squad and other rookies over the years. Now, a lifetime later, the serenity of peaceful Yume was tinged with her apprehension. Though that was at least partially due to the Uchiha with her. Sakura glared from the corner of her eyes.
Madara stood up ahead, examining a market area where a blacksmith was hard at work in front of his forge. 'We already stand out like sore thumbs,' Sakura reasoned. 'Somehow though, it's more than just appearance with him...' She studied his profile carefully. His arms were folded across his chest, his face impassive.
In his deep red armor with the gunbai at his back and his kama hanging near his waist, Madara looked battle-ready and fearsome. 'That's just the natural air he gives off. It always feels like it's enough to choke you.' Since beginning training with Mizuchi, Sakura had noticed she was much more attuned to strong auras.
For people who held powerful presences like Madara, it was almost amplified by her acute spiritual senses. Although, hazarding a guess, it wasn't the same experience a sensor-type would have had. Nevertheless, it drove her to seek space when it got too overwhelming, and now felt like one of those times. Their ship wouldn't leave for another half a day, and exploring was an effective way to pass time.
Sakura could do with some good food. While living off berries, dried meats and rations had been well and good, she was hardly going to pass up the opportunity to have something more satisfying. It wasn't a stretch to guess that food options on the ship would be limited, going by previous experiences.
There had been a tantalizing aroma coming from downwind and it spurred her hunger. Attempting to follow the scent to its source, she was instead greeted with an armored chest as Madara suddenly appeared in her path.
Gritting her teeth, she leveled him with a fierce stare. "Move,"
Surprisingly, there was no smirk, no hint of amusement in his eyes. "Be warned that the ship will leave with or without you. Don't hold any illusion that I'll come for you."
"It's not my first time on a mission. I know how to rendezvous." Sakura brushed by him, silently pleased with herself for keeping a tight lid on her temper. She'd made up her mind that whenever possible, she'd deny him what he wanted—her reaction. Giving him little to nothing would hopefully make him lose interest faster. Of course, that was if she was able to continue biting her tongue. After all, she'd promised herself he wouldn't get a rise from her all the other times, and he had.
"Excuse me," Sakura called, managing to get the attention of a young boy running by with a fishing pole. He stopped so quickly he almost tripped on his line, righting himself with a frown. The minute he saw her, though, his annoyance turned into curiosity.
"Who're you?" he asked bluntly.
"Just a traveler." The kunoichi noticed how he looked ready to bolt off again, anxiously gripping the fishing rod. "Sorry, but could you tell me where to go for food?"
The young boy moved the oversized cap on his head to scratch at his russet hair, mouth twisting in concentration. "I like to go to the shop on the corner over there! The obaa-san who runs it gives me extra sometimes." he said finally with a point.
Sakura noticed he was talking about a small, open shop not far away where thick curtains served as a divider between patrons and people on the street. It reminded her of fond times at Ichiraku with Team 7.
"Thank y—" Sakura paused, noticing he was already gone.
Shrugging, she continued her walk, falling in with the locals and slipping under the flap of the shop. There was a sweet, pleasant aroma in the air, and several customers inside, eating steamed buns. Behind the counter, a woman rolling dough hummed softly. "Welcome to—oh my, a new face I see."
"Hi," Sakura waved, looking around. "I'm passing through and—"
"Oh," the shop owner interrupted, "Say no more. Please, come in and have a seat. I'm just about to steam these." She motioned with her shoulder to the dough she was rolling.
Sakura took a seat on a stool, noticing a small girl also behind the corner for the first time.
"Emiko, ask our guest what she'd like to have!" the woman urged, her daughter scrambling to place a scroll listing menu items in front of Sakura.
"It says the mizu manju is your special item, so I'll have that." she decided, handing the scroll back. 'This is a strange season for it though…' Not wanting to offend, Sakura kept that thought to herself, giving Emiko a patient smile.
Emiko nodded, shyly avoiding Sakura's gaze and scurrying over to her mother's side.
"I'm sorry, she's very shy with new people." The owner chuckled, "Here, while you're waiting have some taiyaki. It's fresh!"
Emiko stood on the tips of her toes, plating the treats and bringing them to Sakura. The fish-shaped cakes resembled carp, light brown and warm to the touch. "Oh, t-thank you. But is it really okay to just give me this? I don't mind paying…" Even so, Sakura hurriedly wiped at her mouth, which had become moist the minute the fresh sweets were set in front of her.
"Generosity is our way of life here, so enjoy. Think of it as a reason to visit us again the next time you're passing through," she turned to drop the manju into a steamer with a wink.
Deciding arguing against such a kind offer was pointless, Sakura carefully picked up the warm cake and bit into it head first. The sweet bean paste and the combination of the soft texture was so refreshingly good after days of berries and dried meats, she could have shed a tear. Emiko sat a clay cup in front of her quietly.
"Melon juice," she muttered. Sakura nodded in thanks, taking a sip to wash the cake down.
"So young lady," the amiable shop owner began. "I couldn't help but notice your headband…what brings you to a quiet place like Yume for a mission?"
Sakura took another bite of cake, savoring it. "Actually, I'm here to take a ship to the Land of Water."
An instantly noticeable change in mood settled over the shop. Patrons that had been quietly eating, paused, glancing at Sakura in open surprise?"
"Those cursed islands?" a young woman whispered.
"Cursed?" Sakura repeated. "Are you talking about the mysterious illness that's been spreading?"
"No, no! Those islands were cursed long before that…" An older man insisted. "You know, folk there are strange, in a mild manner of speaking. Wary of strangers and known to practice all kinds of things. You be careful there, young lady."
Startled, Sakura tried desperately to process the information. In her time, the Land of Water was home to Kirigakure, a village long since renowned for their bloody civil wars, persecution of anyone possessing a kekkei genkai and the Seven Ninja Swordsman. But she hadn't heard about any of those things yet, and given that Konoha was only just taking off, it was unlikely that Kiri existed. In the academy she'd learned that Konoha had been the first to be established, followed by Sunagakure, and then the other villages. Kiri was second to last…
Then again, she reasoned, with the peaceable nature of people in Yume, it wouldn't be hard to imagine that they would call the gory, sordid way of life in the Land of Water "strange" to put it politely.
The owner cleared her throat, effectively breaking Sakura's concentration. "I think that'll be enough worrying our guest. Here you are; the mizu manju is cool enough to serve now." Sakura took off her pack, digging into it and producing the amount she'd seen on the menu.
Thinking of the kindness she'd been shown, she dug out a few extra yen pieces and snuck them between the paper money, handing both over to little Emiko. The little girl's brows lifted questioningly, but Sakura gently placed a finger to her lips. Three mizu manju were set in front of her, but Sakura found herself too preoccupied to eat.
Hashirama sat down the message Tobirama had given him, stunned speechless. For his part, his brother waited somewhat impatiently. "Well?"
The older Senju read over the beautiful, flowing scrawl for what felt like the dozenth time.
"After careful consideration, we of the Hyuga clan agree to discuss negotiations with you, Hashirama Senju, Hokage of Konohagakure, provided your brother acts as a witness. Be forewarned that we have conditions rooted in the traditions of our clan that we are unwilling to compromise about. If the time and date included below is amenable to you, then we can proceed."
If anything, there was clear progress. The Hyuga were finally, after weeks of hard-won political negotiation, willing to discuss the terms in which they would consider relocating to Konoha. Although the budding village would have likely done fine in the long term without their inclusion, Hashirama had been adamant that if Konoha ever became a reality, as many clans as possible should be invited. Some had been easier to court than others, with the Hyuga being among the hardest to convince. "Tobirama, this is incredible! They're finally willing to have talks,"
Tobirama lifted his chin, a touch of annoyance in the firm line of his mouth. "Was there ever doubt that I would prevail?"
Hashirama carried on blithely, "You understand this calls for honey wine. I still haven't broken in the set Toka and Reira gave me."
Tobirama's eyes narrowed. "You're getting far too carried away. I've merely brought them to the table. Between this and the new trade agreement, granted Madara can truly coax them into a treaty, there's still much to be done."
Hashirama straightened his shoulders, his smile falling away. "Right, of course. I didn't assign the task to Madara simply because you were indisposed, you know. Despite your feelings you have to admit he's a skilled negotiator in his own right."
Tobirama turned his burning eyes onto the unlucky bonsai perched at the corner of the desk. "Tch…"
"Fine, fine…" Hashirama waved aside his brother's petulant mood. "It's too early for you to give Madara any sort of credit, even when it's just us here. So we won't talk about that right now…why don't you tell me how you managed to entice the Hyuga?"
Tobirama's eyes darted momentarily to Hashirama's hopeful face and then fell back to Bukkai in boredom. "That's nothing of interest," he grumbled. Truth be told, Hashirama had left the minute details to Tobirama, because when he'd taken over correspondence with the Hyuga, he seemed to get a better reception, curt though the responses may have been. This the Hokage had always simply credited with Tobirama's taciturn personality.
Something about him must have appealed to the Hyuga's sense of traditionalism. After all, even if Tobirama was only conveying his ideas for him, he always managed to do so in a much more level-headed way that didn't come across as radical as when Hashirama spoke them himself. It was the difference in delivery that mattered most during tough political negotiations such as these.
However, after a point in the talks, Tobirama had become more reserved, giving him less and less detail about exactly how it was he was managing to keep the Hyuga's attention, only mentioning things were proceeding accordingly. But now that things were as good as sealed, Hashirama found himself bubbling with curiosity.
The Hokage playfully wiggled his brows. "Being coy now, brother?"
"No," Tobirama denied, "It just isn't a tale that needs reiterating. I've been speaking with Hisoki Hyuga and gradually ingratiating myself to him."
"Mhm," his brother hummed. "Continue,"
Tobirama gave Bukkai an unimpressed stare before rounding on its owner. Sighing, he explained, "A man like Haruaki isn't hard to understand. But he's hard to court politically, in this instance. The kind of change inherently involved in the process of a functioning ninja village with so many clans and the blending of cultures is, for all intensive perhaps, in staunch opposition to what a traditionalist clan like the Hyuga stand for. Keeping negotiations going meant convincing them they wouldn't lose their identity by joining Konoha. It also meant finding common ground."
"I see," Hashirama muttered to himself. "You've always been so good at understanding what it is someone truly wants from negotiations. But," Here his chin fell to his chest as he peered over the desk suspiciously at his brother. "What common ground do you have with someone like that? The Senju haven't been the most open to changing either, until recently. I'm not sure I'd call our clan one that takes traditionalism to the extent that the Hyuga do, though…"
"It isn't about the similarities of our clans." Tobirama rolled his shoulder, still finding more interest in Bukkai than in looking him in the eyes. "We, as individuals, simply share a few beliefs."
"Well now you've truly piqued my interest," Hashirama was bordering between being inquisitive and concerned. It was unlike his brother to hedge around a conversation so much. Tobirama's personality was as blunt as a stone and cut as sharply as a newly forged blade.
"Are you waiting on me to tell you?" Tobirama scoffed, "What more is there to say?"
"Plenty!" howled the Hokage. "Of all times for you to decide to be more subtle..."
"Our commonality begins and ends with a dislike for a certain person."
"Oh," Hashirama breathed a sigh of relief, "That's reasonable, at least. The enemy of my enemy is—a certain person?"
"I won't repeat myself."
Curiosity quickly became suspicion again. The Hyuga was a prominent clan with a coveted doujutsu. They had many enemies. But more than any other clan, the ones they had a fierce rivalry with were…
"Tobirama, tell me you didn't," Hashirama groaned as his forehead touched the desk.
There was a silence, not so much as a quip to confirm or deny. Peeling his face from the cool wooden surface, Hashirama met his brother's gaze, mortified. "Tell me you didn't…didn't get this far in the negotiation process by sharing your theories on the Uchiha clan!" For quite some time, Tobirama had held firmly to the belief that the Uchiha were cursed to hate.
Or, the Curse of Hatred. Despite being unsubstantiated, Tobirama had often claimed if he could study the mind of an Uchiha, he could prove his theory beyond a doubt. It wasn't something he'd talked about since they had signed the Uchiha and Senju treaty, not something he would ever allow his brother to do, even if he miraculously managed to find an Uchiha willing. It didn't stop the cogs of morally ambiguous inquisition from turning.
"Of course not," Tobirama replied, affronted. "I'm not a fool. To discuss discontent in the ranks is to give the enemy an angle to exploit. I wouldn't openly condemn the whole clan to the Hyuga. However, he asked what kind of man I thought Madara Uchiha was, and I gave my honest opinion."
Hashirama sucked in a deep breath and held it. Even when the burning in his lungs started, he held it in a little longer. "…Tobirama…why? Why?" The Hokage's whines were muffled by the sleeve of his robes as he pressed an arm to his face.
"It worked," Tobirama muttered with a defensive edge. "I told them what I felt, which also happened to be what they wanted to hear, and it worked."
"Yes, but," the Shodai rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Don't you think that expressing your dislike for Madara, the leader of the clan, is the same as expressing dislike for the whole clan?"
"Why would it be?" Tobirama argued. "Madara is a particularly unscrupulous individual, even by Uchiha standards."
"And so you simply made Madara out to be the worst the Uchiha had to offer? I can't believe…" He blinked at the pale flesh of Tobirama's palm being held in the air.
"I've made it clear the Uchiha are a firm fixture in Konoha. The Hyuga know that we aren't casting one clan aside to accommodate them. Expressing my thoughts about living in the same village as a spastic, dramatic, pompous man such as Madara and promising something unreasonable that would isolate one of the most powerful clans Konoha has are different things."
Hashirama scrubbed a hand down his face, peeking through his fingers hopefully. "So you didn't tell the Hyuga anything truly damaging that would put us in a corner with the Uchiha…but you…gossiped about Madara?"
"It is not gossiping. It's an exchanging of like-minded opinions. What self-respecting man gossips?" Tobirama crossed his arms and glared outright.
"I mean," Giggles erupted before he could bite them back. "I mean apparently you do." It was all he could get out before the giggles overtook him again, making his shoulders bounce. The wood of Tobirama's chair scraping against the floor as he stood alerted him that he'd succeeded in annoying his brother.
"I'll be taking my leave," he growled.
With speed impressive even for a shinobi of his caliber, Tobirama had slammed the door, so hard it rattled scrolls on the wall and caused Bukkai to teeter off the edge of the desk. Hashirama snapped out of his laughing fit long enough to lunge for his beloved bonsai, grinning nervously at it. "He'll be annoyed with me for a while over that," the Hokage whispered, lovingly caressing the sides of the ceramic pot with his thumbs. "But he shouldn't take it out on you."
There were at least ten ships of varying sizes docked at the harbor, many still being loaded for their voyages. Sakura strained to tilt her head back far enough to see the tops of some of the largest ones, which must have been sixty feet across. One in particular made her stop and stare, a beautiful cargo ship. While she was certainly no expert on vessels, Sakura had seen a handful of them in her lifetime.
She knew enough to hazard a guess that the crew kept this one exceptionally maintained. It had to stand at least a hundred feet, hull painted white and The Spiriter embossed across the side in hand-carved script. Even Madara must have been at least mildly impressed, because out of her peripherals he stood off to the side, gazing up at the ship approvingly.
A young man on the deck who had been directing the crew noticed them, and came to peer over the edge. "Beautiful, ain't she?" he called down, the mild breeze carrying his voice.
Surprised, Sakura blinked, a bit abashed at being caught gawking. Nevertheless, she nodded truthfully. "I've never seen a cargo ship shine like that. Your crew puts a lot of time into it."
They watched as the young man smiled in pride, walking across deck and coming down the boarding plank. He had a more graceful gait than she'd expect from a sailor. Then again, he didn't exactly look much like the burly, sea-hardened men behind him. Young and well-tanned with keen green eyes and white blonde hair, when his stare settled on her, Sakura found her cheeks warming rapidly.
Halfway down the plank, he paused, eyes widening slightly. "So…you're the shinobi traveling from Konoha?" It was then that Sakura realized he hadn't been watching her; he'd been studying their headbands.
"The hitai-ate seem to make that obvious." Madara said flatly. Sakura bristled, ready to reprimand him for his rudeness, but the young man hardly seemed bothered.
"That's true enough." He shrugged. "It's my first time ever meeting shinobi, so I'll admit I was hoping to see you before we set sail. Words gotten 'round about a place where shinobi from different clans live, united by a single symbol."
"W-Wait," Sakura's face fell. "Before you set sail? Aren't you…isn't this…" she motioned to The Spiriter, "The ship taking us to the Land of Water?" The Hokage had never told them, or at least not her, the name of the ship or its captain. Simply that it would be there, ready to set sail and take them in three days' time. It was vain, but the minute she saw attractive young man and the proud ship, she had assumed. Dared to hope… Surely, the Hokage would find them the finest accommodations possible. Wouldn't he?
His lips lifted into a wry quirk. "Mm, I'm starting to wish." Then, shaking his head, he thumbed past his own ship. "I think you're actually looking for The Harbinger."
"You could have said so, instead of wasting time," Madara sighed, already making his way to the ship docked next to The Spiriter. The ship Sakura hadn't bothered to take note of when she'd been captivated by the attractive crewman and his pretty ship.
Hesitantly, she made her way around the side of The Spiriter, and her mouth fell in undisguised shock at the sight of a vessel that had seen more than its fair share of storms and looked to be in need of some repair. Aboard, a motley assortment of men and women were loading for their trip too, securing crates and taking things below deck.
Although, unlike the crew of The Spiriter, there didn't seem to be any true order. Sakura watched in disbelief as they loudly bickered, dropping crates of what was probably precious cargo to shove against each other. The next thing she knew, two men were in a full out brawl, with the rest of the crew circling them to chant encouragingly.
Shaking her head, the pink-haired nin took a cautious step away. All things considered, it didn't sit well to board a ship with such an ominous name, the crew's conduct momentarily aside.
"This has to be a mistake," Sakura muttered. "We can't…" Madara turned away from the fight, strolling back toward The Spiriter.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
Madara didn't so much as miss a step. "It doesn't matter where The Spiriter was originally planning to go, its new destination is the Land of Water."
"I don't want to board that any more than you do," Sakura argued, "But you can't make a ship change course. Maybe there's a captain somewhere that can sort it out—"
"Oi!" Craning her neck around, the kunoichi was just in time to see a very angry looking middle-aged woman wielding a ladle march through the crowd on deck, which parted effortlessly for her.
Once she'd gotten herself between the two brawlers, she shoved them away from each other with ease, rearing back to smack the shorter one across the face with her ladle. He stumbled, clutching his jaw.
"What're ya always ruinin' our fun for, Junko?" demanded a grisly red-haired man.
"This is why we're behind schedule! This is why we always get passed up for the big jobs!" she ranted. "You sorry lot spend more time arguin' like brats than anything!"
"Seafolk aren't for tamin'." One of the men who'd been fighting laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer. "Salt o' the sea's in our blood! We fight, we sail and we fuc—"
With an impressively precise maneuver, Sakura watched the woman named Junko seize his arm and twist it behind his back, throwing him with an infuriated cry.
The sizable splash as he hit the water made Madara stop and turn around. The Harbinger's crew laughed and the sailor came up sputtering, grumbling about mutiny as he swam his way onto the harbor's dock.
Sakura leaned down, careful not to get any seawater on her exposed toes as he hauled himself up with a grunt. "Are you alright?"
Apparently surprised by her presence, he took a minute longer than she was comfortable with staring into her face while she bent awkwardly.
"Y-You, you're a goddess. You have to be." Sakura's heart leapt in panic.
"What? No, I—"
"Don't mind him!" the woman who had thrown him called down to her. "Tries to sweet talk any decent looking lady he sees!"
Madara was mildly amused by this news. "Decent-looking, you say?" He gave Sakura an appraising stare, as if examining a merchant's wares. "Beauty really is in the eyes of the beholder."
"This close," she snarled in his direction, showing him the space between her thumb and index finger. Clearing her throat, she politely ignored the sopping wet state of the sailor's clothes. "We're looking for the ship traveling to the Land of Water. We—"
"Look!" Another sailor yelled from the ship. "Looka their headbands! They're neenja!" Sakura watched in confusion as everyone aboard dropped what they were doing and clambered to the side of ship to get a look at Madara and herself. The crew gave a collective gasp of awe and Sakura shifted uncomfortably. The ogling made her feel like a rare species in the wild that had encountered people.
"Ignore those apes, miss," the dripping crewman did an awkward, clumsy bow, grasping her hand and squeezing, giving her a sincere smile of crooked or missing teeth. "Welcome, we're honored to take ya to the Land of Water. And the boys'll be on their best behavior."
"Then this is our ship?" Madara asked, barely masking his disdain.
"'Course! And you just made it. We're all ready to set sail."
Creaking on a ship, he supposed, was normal. Especially a well-aged vessel, which the Harbinger undoubtedly was. But with each step, Madara half-expected his foot to go right through the planks of the deck.
Haruno was traipsing around just as carefully, glancing down at her feet periodically and quietly sucking in her breath with every suspicious groan of the ship. "Sorry you had to see us like that." The hulking sailor that had slipped out of the top half of his jinbei raised a meaty hand in belated greeting. "I captain this sorry crew. You and the little lady can call me Joben."
Haruno spun around, no longer caring where she stepped, her mouth agape. "You're captain?!" she yelped. Realizing her blunder, she covered her mouth, "S-She just threw you overboard, so I thought…" her voice petered off in embarrassment.
Joben gave a hearty guffaw and all the sailors, including the reedy woman who had found the strength to toss him into the sea, followed. "Junko there is our cook! Keeps us fed," he patted at his stomach. "And in line. Uses that damn ladle of hers more to smack us silly than to serve."
Junko, her dulled blonde hair cropped short on one side in a fashion he'd never seen, smirked. "Wouldn't have it any other way, cap'n."
Joben rolled his eyes, scratching at his toned abdomen. "Anyway, these are the men n' women who earn their keep as the crew. And this," he patted at the head of a young boy that had squeezed his way through to stand at his side, eying them in child-like wonderment, "is my boy, Kazu."
"R-Real n-ninja?" he sputtered excitedly.
"I'm Sakura Haruno." Haruno introduced herself.
She was met with a chorus of friendly greetings.
"What about you? You're not the shy sort are ya?" Junko asked him.
The whole crew leaned in expectantly. "Madara Uchiha."
"Uchiha…?" someone repeated. "I know that name. They're real famous shinobi." That got the crew worked up, and everyone was chattering to themselves in low, impressed tones.
He'd never admit it, but the thought of even the simplest of sea men knowing and respecting the Uchiha name made his chest swell.
Apparently his wasn't the only ego boosted. "Important people? On my ship?" Not even Joben's thick beard hid the wide smile. "Call for a celebration if I ever heard one. We'll have sake tonight, boys!" The ship collectively cheered, and everyone animatedly sprang into their positions, ready to set sail. When Joben thundered his way across the deck, bellowing orders to lower the sails, raise the anchor and cut the rope, he resembled a man closer to a true captain. Gone was the smart-mouthed seaman who had allowed a cook to fling him overboard.
No sooner had his confidence in the man's skills raised minutely then the ship lurched as it turned, sending a stumbling Haruno into his arms. Dazed, she stayed pressed against him as she caught her breath, hands to his chest. When she looked up at him with hooded eyes, the green caught the sunlight, and he silently marveled at their seafoam color.
"Oi! What're ya doin' up there?!" Junko screamed, running over to Joben. "Looks like you started drinking early, you no good, second-rate seadog!"
Joben was unfazed, taking one hand off the helm to shoo her away. "Ahaha! Sorry, sorry! Just a small error."
His boisterous laughter was the last note that broke the spell, Haruno violently pushing herself from him with an indignant shriek of "Shannaro!" of all things.
And, with the unnatural amount of strength she'd use to pummel Tobirama into the ground, she sent him skidding across deck, only the chakra he applied to his feet in the nick of time keeping him from taking a humiliating spill. Though he supposed it could have been worse, as everyone was too preoccupied to notice.
Madara watched her storm off, her ever noticeable hair fluttering in the late afternoon breeze. Haruno's sudden bursts of sporadic anger juxtaposed against the nearly docile temperament he'd seen her use when not interacting with him, was much like the finicky nature of the sea itself. Reasoning would follow that her element would be Suiton. Like the Senju bastard's.
Bitterness.
That was the only emotion to describe it. He was born inclined to Katon… a passionate, all-consuming, dominating element. A raging fire against the raging might of the sea. The outcome would seem obvious, but the notion that in a clash she would triumph didn't sit well with him at all. A dance would decide it. When the time came, he would challenge her to a dance.
A lot has happened to me between this chapter and the last one, and for a while, I was sort of…dispirited. Not enough to discontinue but enough to really, really not care about writing for a while. Still going back and forth with that…So even though a lot of you may have had no clue, the warm reviews and PMs of interest for this story meant a lot. Someone messaged me on tumblr to say they've read it five times? I truly find it hard to believe this story is loved by people that much. I hope everyone continues to enjoy reading this fic.
Moving on…not sure how the Hyuga and Uchiha were ever convinced to coexist in the village together. But wouldn't it be funny if it was as simple as Tobirama telling whoever the Hyuga clan head was that he hated the Uchiha too, and they toasted to that, and from then on, the Hyuga and Tobirama would meet to roast Madara? It probably didn't go down like that, but I can dream.
I think I will like writing more scenes of Madara and Sakura trapped with a crazy crew out at sea. But the real fun starts when they reach the islands. Lots of Shinto mythology as an important subplot throughout the arc. I will continue to cut apart and rearrange Kaguya's backstory as I see fit as well, so say goodbye to any semblance of canon with that.
If you enjoyed this chapter, I'd love a review about it.
