Everyone really enjoyed the last chapter's HashiSaku interactions, huh? Well, considering there's much more SenjuSaku to come, that's probably for the best. XD
I also found out apparently I have some Marvel fans reading? Lots of you mentioned your own excitement about Avengers: Endgame when I said I would be seeing it and let me just say it's the end of an era to be sure but the way things happened…well I'm sad, a bit empty, but also coming to be at peace. I hope everyone who saw it or is planning to see it gets fulfillment.
Since the last update, the two year anniversary of this fic being posted has quietly come and gone. Hard to believe. XD
P.S. This turned out way, way too long again (yikes!) but there were so many important scenes that pave the way for the next big arc that had to be included. Also, there were some things I noticed and wanted to slightly tweak so I took this down briefly and put it back up, if you've already read the first version there were no real notable differences for you per se. Nothing that warrants a full reread. It was mostly done for myself.
"It's possible, yes."
Sakura waited, expecting Mizuchi's statement to be followed up with at the very least an explanation. In return the goddess arched a fine brow as if she were the one owed an explanation.
"There's definitely a little more than 'it's possible'." Sakura said impatiently.
Mizuchi pointed her finger at a patch of snow and it thawed to water, zipping straight at the kunoichi in a spear-sharp point. Sakura seized control of the minor attack with minimal effort and the weaponized liquid remained suspended as harmless droplets.
"Sakura, what you have accomplished already is no simple task." Mizuchi cupped her hands together and the droplets became a single glob in her palms. She dumped it out with a splatter. "I admit now that I acted recklessly. I should have prepared you in the event that you found yourself in a position similar to what you faced with Yama."
The pinkette still recalled that conversation with resounding clarity. "He said the blights I absorbed were going to strip away my humanity." She shuddered, remembering what she'd almost done first to Madara, then later Izuna. Some primal force that had overridden any rationality sang for blood so strongly it was hard to fight off. When she had thought of Madara's actions in the war, and when she had mistaken Izuna for Sasuke, and remembered all the emotional distress the latter had put her through… something snapped.
"And didn't it almost?" Mizuchi queried. "How close did you come to allowing the taint inside to swallow you?"
Ashamed, her head dipped low and hair hid her face. "In the end I feel like I'm just a girl who's still ruled by her emotions." Further proving her own point, water welled behind her eyes and she quickly swiped at them. "Mizuchi, I can't be the warrior you need."
Winter was upon them, but it didn't stop Sakura from sinking down on the riverbank and curling her knees to her chest, just staring at her reflection. Though she had only spent months in the past, somehow she looked so changed. Her matured face still held onto its youth but her eyes, though bright, had a more solemn edge.
Mizuchi plopped gracefully beside her. She always wore such fine kimonos, every thread gleaming as if it were constructed from the finest material heaven could offer, and yet she never hesitated to get her clothes dirty. On the other hand, Sakura tried hard not to let anything soil her civilian clothes, knowing the convenience of a washing machine was nowhere to be found in the bygone era.
"Unfortunately for you I've already bestowed too much investment in you to turn back." The goddess droned. "You are still my intended godslayer. And though you stumbled in the beginning, you survived self-destruction by blight, which is a most impressive feat many wouldn't achieve."
Sakura cast Mizuchi a shrewd stare. "Is that your nice way of saying I'm your first successful experiment?"
The goddess smiled cryptically. "The hardest lesson has perhaps been learnt. You now have a chance to begin to call upon that form whenever you wish, while maintaining your sanity."
Sakura let that turn over in her head a few times. Truth be told, even briefly transforming in the Hokage's office had been a terrifying, mildly traumatic experience in which she was very cognizant of the last time she'd shifted. The near-consequences.
Albeit, unlocking that form in the heat of battle was inadvertently caused by the stress of the blights. Despite having confirmation that the Dragon State and the beastly nature weren't entirely one in the same, her conscious still had a hard time separating them, trusting herself not to revert back into a mindless, bloodthirsty monstrosity.
"If you are still unsure, try to call upon the inner dragon now while I am with you," Mizuchi coaxed. "In the event that you truly lose control, I'm more than capable of stopping you."
Trepidation thrumming in her heart, Sakura rose to her feet while Mizuchi looked on. But, it only took the span of a nonverbal exchange to realize she didn't know what to do. The first time was accidental, the second, brought on in a fix of stubborn determination and panic. All she was feeling was reluctance, and that felt counterintuitive to the goal at best.
"Am I just supposed to close my eyes and let instinct take over?" Sakura finally asked, annoyed that Mizuchi was never as forthcoming with hints as she could be. Why did the very nature of an immortal entity have to be so damned puzzling? It was no wonder humans had no idea what they were really like.
"Put simply it would be fastest if you did, yes. Faster still if you were to consciously ignite the dragon's inner fire."
Sakura squinted in thought, clicking her tongue in frustration. "Okay, pretend I'm clueless and break it down…" She wagged her finger, adding, "No obscurity."
The river deity chortled. "Surely you've accepted by now that our link makes you a little more than human, yes? Not immortal nor invulnerable by any means but absorbing my unique spiritual essence has given you access to some of the finer points of my power."
She nodded as she ticked off traits on her fingers, "The acidic flames, the Dragon State, the…" Pausing, her face blanched in horror as she recalled the question Madara had wanted to know. "I'm not going to grow a tail, am I?"
Mizuchi's answering grin was all too frightening, "And if you do?"
Sakura shuddered. If she did she'd never be allowed to live it down as far as Madara was concerned.
Noticing her deepening mortification, the goddess sniffed delicately. "Only a small joke." The twinkle in those distinctive eyes gave Sakura pause, though. One could never be fully sure with Mizuchi.
"In all seriousness, if you grasp that much then you should understand what it means to share space in your soul with the raw energy of a dragon. Humans always speak of chakra, and seek to combine their mental and physical energies in order to achieve your use of ninjutsu," She rolled her eyes as if unmoved by the thought. "Branding you has seared new pathways through your body. It's in your veins, and if you truly wish to master them, the power is there waiting to be channeled."
While she wasn't sure if she wished to, necessity took precedence. If any one thing had been made clear it was that she would not have the luxury of idly waiting in the village for a way home to pop up. Not until Mizuchi was satisfied at least, and though crazier than previously thought, what she now knew to be happening did indeed sound pretty dire. Gods twice as powerful as Kaguya couldn't just be left to run amok and alter human history as they saw fit, could they?
"You already know my answer…" Sakura took a deep breath in. "I need every advantage possible if I'm going to make it out of this."
The sharp, green-gold eyes took in not only her face, but the measure of her being. Apparently finding satisfaction, Mizuchi moved like a specter, one fluid motion bringing them chest to chest. "An answer nothing short of expected," she said with a pleased hum. "What drives you drives the dragon."
At first, it sounded like a riddle, but Sakura quickly figured out it truly was that straightforward.
'What drives me…' she thought. Going home had been her driving ambition all along, no matter how much she'd grown to care about many of the people she'd met. The past wasn't where she belonged. Of course, knowing what she wanted didn't make it simple.
Already at this stage in the journey she'd faced countless perils, and all in all home was just as far away as before. The lack of so much as a dent being made should have been highly discouraging, and once it definitely would've been. But if she didn't have hope that it was a possibility, then she was forever without wings.
Hope was such a strange, slippery thing, she'd come to conclude. It was also the first spark in the pit of a dragon's belly, slowly changing into a full-blaze. Hope was an objective so tiny and far off in the distance it was practically an illusion, until eyes made focused by new knowledge and a bigger picture brought it closer.
Hope was survival in a strange land that, at the same time held fleeting glimpses of familiarity that made her heart ache. Hope was vulnerable but strong, timid but brave, confusing but clear.
Power skittered through her cells, knocking the breath from her lungs. The transformation had warped her reflection into someone recognizable only because of the intimate knowledge she had of herself.
From fingertips to forearms sleek scales climbed like ivy, protectively incasing her pale skin as snug as a pair of combat gloves. Fangs peeked past parted lips, no less surprising than the stubby black horns sprouting from the sides of her head. Sakura blinked, her eyes an identical shade and shape to Mizuchi's. When a calm breeze wisped past, hair moved to reveal the state of her right ear, pointed.
"Hope." she said breathlessly. "Hope wakes up the dragon!" With that knowledge safely tucked in her heart, the last vestiges of fear she'd had about losing control melted away, and Sakura watched her features return to normal. She beamed up at Mizuchi, confidence radiating from her pores. "I can do it now. At will!"
"That you can." The dragon confirmed. "But you've only just begun, Sakura. More potential lies waiting just under the surface."
The kunoichi's mind was already working through several types of training she wanted to do in order to get a better handle on her abilities. If the need arose for them, she couldn't afford to be a novice.
"Then let's find it," she stuck out a hand. "Together."
Mizuchi considered the outstretched hand with a cock of her head, seeming to take measure of the resolution in her tone. Just as one of her own hands slipped from the wide sleeve of her kimono, Sakura withdrew her own with a gasp. "Training!" she carded the hand she'd pulled away through her tresses, tugging at the roots. "I'm supposed to be training with Toka today."
The dark finely shaped brow of the goddess dipped in exasperation. "You would delay this, so close to a breakthrough, to train with a mortal?" Sakura could have imagined it, but Mizuchi seemed more put out by the idea that she could want to spend free time with someone else more so than her leaving their training for another time. Deities and their enormous pride…sometimes it was impossible to avoid running afoul of it.
"Only for the day?" Sakura tried, already turning to leave. "I promised. And Toka…" Frankly Toka could probably use the company right about now. Her strained relationship with Reira was still something making her more sullen than usual.
"Go." The dragon woman harrumphed, nose upturned. "I don't feel it necessary to hear in no uncertain terms just how lowly I rank to you at the moment."
Sakura winced, though inwardly she couldn't stop an eye roll. So dramatic. Normally a guilt trip like that would come from Ino or her mother.
With a small wave and an apologetic grimace, Sakura turned her back on the deity, heading toward the Senju compound.
Compared to when she'd last visited the Senju compound, the grounds were lifeless, especially for it to be the middle of the day. Though no one was around the gates were left ajar, and Sakura quietly let herself in.
She cast apprehensive glances about, trying to convince herself she wasn't sneaking around. Toka had indeed invited her for another spar, something that appeared to help the stoic kunoichi work through her thoughts. Sakura was glad to oblige, understanding the need to distance oneself from a mind of troubled feelings.
'Let's see…' she thought. 'I think the training grounds were…two right turns and a left? But that was when I was using the big hall where the party was held as a point of reference. From here…' Sakura gave up with a groan, dragging her feet with a slouch. She couldn't imagine what was going on that the home to a clan of at least a hundred people appeared deserted. Toka hadn't mentioned anything taking place where visitors would be unwelcome… it wasn't like her responsible friend to forget either.
"I should probably just come back another time…" Sakura muttered aloud, peeking down yet another empty street, this time lined with more homes with a light dusting of snow on the roofs and doorsteps. It might look suspicious if she were to be caught skulking around, unintentionally or no. She pivoted on her heels with a frown. "Toka obviously just…"
She stopped, her eyes catching on the sight of a figure at the end of the road hobbling along. Sakura was no dojutsu user but her vision was keen enough to tell the poor person was unsteady on their feet, and they looked to be carrying something in their arms.
Lots of the snow on the ground had melted, and the sun was even starting to appear from behind the clouds it had hidden behind all morning, but Sakura still feared the next mild wind might blow the person over. Her concern prohibiting her from pretending she hadn't seen them, she started forward again with careful steps, but when they leaned forward and then collapsed with a lurch, Sakura was sprinting to their side.
"Ah, hold on!" she practically skidded over, dropping to her knees.
An older woman with her face drawn and her eyes unfocused breathed heavily in the snow. Sakura rolled her from her side to her back and wrapped an arm under her shoulders to support her. "I need…to help…" she whispered, her voice thin.
Sakura shook her head in disbelief. "I need to get you some help." Her bare wrist touched the back of the woman's neck when her sleeve moved. "You're burning up. Ma'am please, which way is your home?"
Eyelids fluttering, the plump older woman sighed. "Just…just ahead there." She pointed toward the third house near the end of the street on the left side. As all the others it was dusted with snow but otherwise neatly maintained with a solid foundation, raised porch and sturdy-looking roof. 'I bet the Hokage built the compound too.' she mused.
Sakura collected what the woman had dropped, which appeared to be a box of small tied bags. When she had it securely tucked to her side, she helped the woman up, taking on the majority of her weight. Together they slowly made their way toward her waiting home. "But…he's going to need these. He's going to need help."
Sakura smiled kindly, admiring that she had spirit even when clearly unwell. "Whatever it is, it's going to have to wait. I'd rather get you inside and warmed up first."
Tilting her face to the side, the observant eyes with the wrinkles in the corner took her in. "But my you do look familiar. Then I suspect you're a hard one to forget with that head of hair. What's your name child?"
They had just made it up the final step.
"Sakura." she replied. "Sakura Haruno."
ASiT
As it turned out, she had met the woman before. Indirectly.
Mei Senju, affectionately called Mei-san by the majority of her family, had spent many decades as a nursemaid to countless Senju children after prematurely losing her own, and she wasn't one to be crossed.
She was present months back during Hashirama's birthday celebrations, directing traffic and scolding anyone who broke the traditions of the event or disrupted order.
Sakura had learned this after barely managing to talk the woman into resting—but oh, the fight she'd put up!—helping her change into her house clothes and laying her down in her futon after making her a steaming cup of tea and some miso broth. Despite her rising temperature, she shook as if the cold had taken hold. "While I say it with utmost gratitude in my heart, I'm not one to be fussed over, dear Sakura." she said lightly. Sakura ignored it for the most part, dabbing her forehead clean with a cloth and clucking under her breath as the blotchiness starting to form on her visible skin. "I've got to get these supplements to the kitchen in the main house's dining hall."
"Mei-san, you're in no condition to walk a single step." Sakura used her firmest med-nin tone, just to get the point across. "I can't let you go anywhere like this in good conscience…"
"Well you shouldn't stay here all the same. This pox has proven highly contagious." She grumbled, getting a little more comfortable beneath her sheets. Strands of damp faded brown hair streaked with gray clung to her forehead and splayed across her pillows. "I've been taking medicines and supplies to every house hit with it since it first cropped up. I thought I'd taken all the right precautions, been careful…but not careful enough I see." she scowled bitterly, then succumbed to a coughing fit.
"Pox?" Sakura straightened in alarm, rag slipping from her fingers and back into the bowl at her side. "There's a pox in the village?" She momentarily felt her temper flare up, wondering why she hadn't been informed, but then she remembered that she was not known as Sakura Haruno, trusted apprentice of the esteemed Fifth Hokage, but Sakura Haruno the mysterious medic with a dark power attached.
While that was certainly a different reputation than the one she had worked to earn for the past several years, surely someone would have thought calling on her might have proven useful before this got so out of hand. It might have been a blight!
Disconcerted, Sakura drew on the energy she now held full control over to search Mei-san's body for the telltale sign of the corruptive force. Strangely enough, nothing. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth. That meant it wasn't a supernatural presence at work, but a true pox.
Come to think of it, hadn't the amount of Senju she'd seen in the village decreased dramatically over the last day or so? She couldn't say she was overly attentive to it, having grown used to seeing the many faces of people walking around with the famous crest somewhere on their clothing.
But it was only just registering that she'd seen far less of them recently. And Toka….had the sunken look to her face been from stress and worry or a deadly sickness taking hold? Her heartrate spiked and she nearly shot to her feet.
"It's a miracle not one casualty has been suffered so far. It's a damn slow thing, this death by pox." Mei-san continued.
Her increased pulse slowed marginally. A miracle indeed! Sakura would have suspected that the clan could have at the least seen a dozen or more losses in the last several days. Given a week's time their numbers could be decimated, cut clean in half. She'd seen it countless times in smaller villages with fewer resources than Konoha she'd been sent to and assisted during outbreaks.
"What about the Hokage?" she asked quickly. "He has to be aware that—"
"Of course," Mei clucked indignantly. She seemed to think she was insuniating Hashirama wasn't doing enough. "But he has a village to run. That hasn't changed. Everything is under control…" She broke off into another round of coughing and all Sakura could really do was stand by, dabbing at her skin with the cloth again. "D-Despite…despite what it seems…" she panted, "the clan is already in the best of hands possible."
Sakura's eyebrows shot up her forehead. Was there even a single soul left standing aside from Hashirama who could deal with something like this? "…So someone's analyzing this? Preparing some kind of treatment regimen for everyone?"
"Yes," Mei took a shallow breath, moving restlessly in her bedding. "Lord…Tobirama…has never…let us down."
The small, agricultural village of Tenryu was a four day trip west of Konoha, settled along the base of the Jaifuku mountain range. It was a humble settlement of farmers in a scenic but otherwise unassuming area.
That was, unless, one was aware that it was one of the few places in all the world where the rare Shiga herb grew, growing only in summer and winter and pollinated by beetles that shared their name. They could easily be mistaken for weeds, discarded carelessly when really they were a coveted resource.
Long ago when the Senju were semi-nomadic, they had befriended farmers in Tenryu, and learned from them that their Shiga herbs had great medicinal benefits. Even after calling the village of Konohagakure home, Senju still traveled to the village twice a year to bring the people hard found seedlings for a share of Shiga herb.
Senju travelers brought it back by the wagon-full, enough to last them until the next harvesting season, and for many years all had been well. Then Taji Senju returned several days ago, not at all in the state he'd left in. Taji was middle-aged, but a spirited man who always had a colorful tale for the youth of the clan about his own misadventures growing up.
He'd made the journey for many years, longer than Tobirama could recall. When he returned with a gaunt face and muscle weakness, he cheerfully put it down to old age and declared he would recover in a day's time, if that, with rest, honey wine and his wife's sukiyaki. It was wishful thinking, but not what happened.
Instead, a short day later, his wife Oki was complaining of the same initial symptoms, seeking treatment from the clan healers while her husband had worsened and was bedridden with a spreading rash, high fever and bad tremors.
The healers were baffled when her affliction was resilient against all their usual treatments for those symptoms, and sent her home with their strongest of muscle strengthening tonics. Not long later five healers suffered the same fate as Taji and Oki. But not only them, those who had handled the herbs, to bring them into storage. Soon the number of afflicted had risen to twenty, then forty-five, climbing and climbing at an alarming rate, until only a handful of healthy, able-bodied Senju remained.
By that time Tobirama was incredibly irate about it all. He'd had to stop his surveillance on the Kaguya, his advisement on Hashirama's office affairs, and his check-ins with the academy to handle the matter of a clan normally one hundred and six people strong being reduced to a dismal five in a matter of days.
Since he'd began doing his own careful investigation that number had dropped to three, and he soon suspected it would be two. Mei-san wouldn't admit it, but she hadn't looked very well herself. He on the other hand, felt strong as ever, and after being exposed to the outbreak for longer than forty-eight hours, the timeframe in which symptoms normally began manifesting, Tobirama was confident he had immunity.
Hashirama too was unaffected thus far, and would likely remain so. While he had warned his brother against coming in contact with any of their ill clan members, that wasn't in his nature to stay away from those under his care who were suffering. In the end, Tobirama was neither surprised nor too worried about Hashirama remaining in good health after his visit with the sick.
His unique genes, some of them Tobirama long suspected were a combination of recessive throwbacks to their Mokuton-possessing ancestors (most of which proceeded the clan's written history), made the exuberant man-child that was his elder brother hard—if not impossible— to fell by illness.
And while Hashirama would have gladly volunteered to help brew the medicine Tobirama was expecting to restore the clan's health, someone had to run the village. A preoccupied Hokage was better than not having one at all. Besides, Tobirama didn't think he needed the help.
He had the whole of the main kitchen hall, which was the largest in the entire compound and resided in a sub-building connected to the main house by a long corridor, to prepare a meal for all one hundred and four of his incapacitated relatives. One that was mixed with the supplemental concoction to cure the pox. Because, after initial observation it was clear that was what it had been all along.
It was really no wonder the medics hadn't suspected it. Even in the area it originated from, cases were uncommon from what he knew.
Deciphering that much did nothing to solve the mystery of how a virus generally spread through an invasive species of insect dormant in the winter had come to survive long enough to get mixed into the herbs, then go on to transmit the Spotted Shiga Pox.
All of it was rather suspicious, and if his hands weren't so full Tobirama might consider an impromptu visit down to Tenryu to see for himself what had happened.
However…
The lone Senju released an irritated huff as his eyes took in the many pots, raw ingredients and cooking tools laid out before him. Whatever investigation outside the village he wanted to conduct would have to wait.
Water was boiling over a huge, elevated stovetop of brick and stone, inside a pot easily as big around as the circumference of some of the trees deep in Konoha's forest, and as deep as the plummet into a sizable hole in the road.
It was strange to have the room be so silent, when normally many Senju came together to dine at the unusually long chabudai that supped a combined number of roughly forty at a time. Yet now that only he was around, Tobirama had very few sounds for company save for the bubbling water and the crackle of the hearth, where a tea kettle hung and heated.
Determining the water to be hot enough, he took the metal cup and heaved the lid from the five foot barrel of prepared rice, but no sooner had he began scooping than his skin crackled from the back of his neck down to his toes, alerting him to an unexpected presence.
Sakura Haruno peered around the partially opened rice paper door as if she were on reconnaissance. He met her eyes, unamused, and she sucked in an audible breath and slowly scooted herself further into his line of sight.
"Did you really suspect you wouldn't be detected trying to sneak up on me?"
"I wasn't sneaking up per se," She defended, hands behind her back and eyes down on her bare feet. At least she'd had the good sense to remove her sandals before entering. "Mei-san directed me here."
Tobirama considered that information, and the fact that his suspicions had basically been proven correct. "Then you're aware of what's happening, and what I'm doing." She nodded. "You should run along, Haruno. This is the Senju's problem to handle."
Pale green eyes widening, her stance shifted from meek to indignant. "Are you really that stubborn? I know you're competent in medicine but this is a pox you're dealing with. If you and Lord Hokage are really the last two healthy members of your clan then—"
Silenced by Tobirama's heavy, blank stare, she paused in her rant, and he took the time to go over and check the kettle. It had just begun to squeal out, and so he carefully removed it with a mitt, set it aside to cool. "Are you going to suggest that I'll need your help?"
By the way her nose rose into the air, it certainly seemed that way. "Mei-san thinks so. She told me you'd refuse but I should just ignore that." And was she ever taking that advice to heart. Tobirama glared as instead of leaving him alone to his work, Haruno padded right by him and went to take stock of all his ingredients, hands on her hips.
Tapping a finger just under her bottom lip, she mumbled quietly, "Hmm…the medicine's going to be served with food, right? I'm guessing it's strong, so that's a good idea. It'll be more palatable that way. But okayu or zosui?" She picked up an egg from the woven basket on the bench by the stove and brought it up to her face.
"Okayu." He said, then mentally berated himself for responding. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the allusion that he wanted her input, her presence or her help. The hardest part had already been done, and since the medicine to alleviate the pox symptoms were prepared, he felt more than sure he could handle a task as simple as cooking.
Spinning around, Haruno held out the egg between her thumb and index finger with a baffled expression. "If you've got everything necessary then wouldn't zosui probably be better? It's more flavorful. It might disguise the taste of the—" Without a word he stormed over, snatched the egg from her, and put it back in the basket, barely avoiding damaging the delicate shell.
"Haruno. I've already said this isn't your problem." The girl's stubbornness matched his own, and he couldn't say he found that very endearing. "This is more than a meal, it needs—"
"And I've already said," Haruno lowered her face but stared up defiantly through her lashes, "That a pox is serious and I'm not leaving. I understand the complexity of making a dish with ingredients that won't interfere with the cure you've made just fine, Tobirama-san. I'm guessing your goal is the same when dealing with a pox treatment…"
"Detect and protect. Counter and neutralize." They said in perfect unison.
Against his will he had to stop and assess. That was always the Senju method for treatment, but rarely had he seen many other medics outside the clan follow a similar practice, though it wouldn't be impossible. Just unusual. Sakura Haruno might prove herself more legitimately knowledgeable than he thought.
Regardless, Tobirama's glare hadn't softened even slightly. He had the feeling for some time that this woman was a pushy one, annoyingly so, but never did he think she'd be bold enough to barge in on him in his own home and start issuing commands. "Fine." he spat, turning his back to her, "You're only exposing yourself unnecessarily."
Though quiet, Tobirama heard her footsteps as she peered into the pot of hissing water and sighed. "I'd like to try something." When he looked over it was just in time for the Senju to see her tap her finger to what should have been earthenware hot enough to scorch her, the water inside starting to bubble up less, though it was obvious the temperature had remained the same by the steam coming off it. "I've been talking to Mizuchi…" she trailed off and met his gaze. "That's the deity."
Tobirama grumbled, starting to prepare the now almost-too-cool tea. "The point?"
With a quick glare, she went on, or attempted to, but instead her mouth opened and closed as she stared at him as if for the first time. "Are you…" she rubbed at an eye, "Are you wearing an apron?"
One short glance down at himself revealed that yes, he was in fact wearing his apron. He made a point to wear something protective when he'd engage in experimentation that could get messy, and, though he now did the activity far less frequently, an apron when he cooked.
There was likely never going to be a day when he'd admit to the miniscule traces of pink spreading across his face. Instead his face hardened. "How does what I wear in my kitchen effect your cognitive functioning?"
Haruno shook her head, not ready to let go of her disbelief. Her lips caught in an unsure smile and she wrung her hands together. "You just look so…domestic…"
The Senju started to roll his eyes and then caught himself. It was true that he was dressed differently than how he was when they met in the village. He wore a warm, black shirt and matching pants under the apron, his bangs falling into his eyes, reminding him that they needed a trim. It would have to be soon, otherwise with shaggy hair it would look twice as unruly. "I assume this was all originally going somewhere, before you found a fascination with my apron."
Admittedly, he felt some satisfaction over the fact that the apples of her cheeks were turning pink as well. "Oh…right. I might have boosted immunity from normal illnesses now." Finally bringing her focus away from his apron, she stared off to the side as if hesitant to continue. "That's at least what I'm hoping."
Tobirama brought the herbal tea up to his lips, took a deep breath of it, and then sipped calmly. "You have a great deal of faith in these protections you believe this goddess will afford you."
Haruno scooped rice into the water, moving swiftly until she almost had the pot packed too full. "This is going to need stock." She looked back at him expectantly, and Tobirama only stood and glowered for a time, still resenting being ordered around in his home.
The one thought that got his feet moving was that the sooner he made Haruno feel as if her help was no longer needed, the sooner she would go, and he would be free to complete his tasks in solitude. Preparing the meal was one thing, but bringing it to every home in the compound was entirely another, and Tobirama suspected he would need the help of his imperfect shadow clones to do it before sundown. She didn't need to know that though.
So when the stock was in her hands, she wasted no time adding it in and stirring the broth, rice clumps now broken up until none of it stuck together. For a minute, Tobirama watched, occasionally sipping from his tea. She seemed right at home in a kitchen that wasn't hers, cooking such a large quantity of food with total concentration.
Being in close proximity to the heat of the stove had started to make her brow damp with sweat, causing her to absently use an elbow to wipe her bangs away. It was then he noticed her hair was growing, and that it gave her a more matured look.
Sensing him stare, she raised her head and sighed. "You don't have to stand there and watch me like I'm going to put something in it."
At present, the idea of Haruno attempting anything funny was furthest from his mind. But since she'd brought it up, he didn't feel an overabundance of trust toward her either, and she should be fully aware of that. In spite of that awareness, here she was…
Seeing that she had it well in hand, Tobirama took his attention from her and found the bundle of carrots he had been planning to use, certain that everyone who'd be eating the zosui could use the vitamin boost anyway. There wasn't much sunlight to go around in the first place with the majority of the weather lately being overcast, but even if it was better, bedridden as they were, none of them would be reaping the benefits. Finding the well-nicked cutting board he set to work, making precise, even pieces in no time.
"Add these." He told her, figuring it was high time he did some commanding of his own. She acquiesced without complaint, which was a small relief.
A short-lived one as well. "Carrots aren't going to be enough for flavoring. What about ginger and garlic?"
Nothing was exaggerated by the consternation he felt at that suggestion. "Why would those be necessary?"
Haruno was instantly as perplexed, her brow puckering. "Don't you think it's important to improve the taste?"
"I think taste is irrelevant as long as the right amount of nutrients are present." he replied honestly.
ASiT
Sakura stared openly, taking the time to process. She knew Tobirama could be a bit of a minimalist, so it didn't really surprise her to learn his idea of cooking was stripping down meals of everything not deemed nutritionally valuable.
Abandoning her post at the stove she bee-lined for the grouping of spices set aside in different sized jars and canisters. While it wasn't a feature of the kitchen Tobirama used much, apparently, it appeared well stocked, which gave her some nice variety. "That's…well that doesn't surprise me to hear you say that, but," Getting on her tiptoes, Sakura reached for a canister, sniffed the top and then put it back with a shake of her head. "Half of healing is psychological. You can't argue that if food tastes good it makes you feel better."
"A healer should deal in results," Tobirama said, not bothering to help. "Not placebos."
Not wanting to waste time pointlessly arguing, Sakura returned to searching out what she needed. A small whiff of the next jar she opened confirmed it would do, and she couldn't help but grin triumphantly as she hurried back to the pot, sprinkling a fair dusting of the ginger inside.
Replacing the ingredient where she'd found it, Sakura searched for garlic, wondering if the Senju had it at all. They appeared to have everything else. It took a few tries, but she located that too, and when she added it in and stirred, the food began to smell truly tantalizing and home-cooked.
All the while, Tobirama had watched intently with a stoic face not unlike his usual. Sakura would have thought he'd be maybe just a little impressed, but that was hoping for too much, it seemed. "I bet you really were this way since birth." she whispered, unable to control herself. Only when one of his eyebrows began to shift up into his hairline did it dawn on her what she'd said.
"You've been talking to Hashirama." he asserted, no question to the tone.
Sakura remained elusive. "In passing maybe." She wouldn't put it past him to bully his poor brother over something like sharing those stories. Sniffing at the pot, Sakura took a wooden spoon and dipped it in, letting her tongue dart out and taste. "It's better than bland but it could probably still use more…" It occurred to her that she couldn't point what it needed more of. Just that it needed.
"It's fine as is." She watched him bend to reach for a wooden crate balanced on a shelf above the stove. As he pulled it down, he could see rows and rows of glass vials, each full of what she presumed to be the medicine. The minute he unstopped the first one, a sour aroma drifted out and curled around the room. Sakura resisted the urge to rub under her stinging nose.
The smell was reminiscent of mildew and rotted wood and Sakura couldn't imagine that if it were poured into the soup in its current state, that the unpleasant taste wouldn't overpower that of the milder flavored dish. Tobirama moved to add the concoction into the pot, but unable to watch her efforts thwarted, Sakura grabbed for his wrist.
Expectedly surly, he glowered at her hand and drew his arm away. "Do you really believe anything this potent would taste pleasant, no matter what's done to it?" he snapped.
"No," she admitted, "but there's still a lot that could cut the bitterness back some." So help any Senju unfortunate enough to down that if there wasn't.
Surprisingly, instead of further berating her, Tobirama stared at his medicine almost thoughtfully. "I'm sure you have suggestions?"
The kunoichi did not get a chance to respond before a shadow fell over her. Piloting on instinct, she spun with a strangled shout, driving her fist into the solar plexus of whoever had snuck up on her.
In reality Hashirama, all six foot plus of him, narrowly jumped away in time. Sure she was imagining him, Sakura shook her head, considering swinging another punch just to be sure. The man who was undoubtedly the Hokage caught both her hands and curled his fingers around her fist, smiling down at her sheepishly. Annoyed, the idea to headbutt him as hard as possible—even if her head didn't meet his—passed through her mind.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he said as Sakura caught her breath.
"Where did you come from?!" Sakura stepped back and almost bumped Tobirama, who had been standing closer behind her than she thought.
"From my office." Skepticism had to be radiating off of her, or he felt he might be in danger of receiving a punch that actually connected, because he hurried on. "I was worried and I just came to see how Tobirama was holding up, but you both seemed to be busy, I didn't want to interrupt…"
A flash of heat hit her full on, appearing on her cheeks as noticeable red blotches. How much had he heard?
Tobirama was free of such compunctions. "First Haruno, now you." His lips thinned. "I'd have this done much faster if no one was looking over my shoulder and constantly offering up suggestions."
"Oh no," Hashirama laughed, placing a hand on Sakura's shoulder as he stepped around her and into his brother. "You can't take it back now! Both of us clearly heard you ask." He jabbed a thumb at the soup. "We only have so much time left before it gets overcooked."
"We?" Sakura and Tobirama repeated, sharing an incredulous look between themselves before pinning it to Hashirama.
Anticipating their reservations, Hashirama waved calmly. "Nothing's going to fall to ruin if I'm gone for a while. I have an obligation here, too."
Sakura considered his words held some logic, but Tobirama's face was covered with disgust. "Using the welfare of the clan to escape Hokage duties? You've acquired a new low, brother."
In turn Hashirama stumbled back, absolutely scandalized. "Don't you think that's going a little too far? What kind of person am I supposed to be to you, exactly?"
Tobirama parted his lips with a defiant gleam to his carmine eyes, but Sakura inserted herself quite literally between them. "What do you think it needs, Hokage-sama?" She dipped a hand toward the pot.
Hashirama cradled his elbow in one hand, shrugging. "Without tasting it, that's hard to say. May I?"
Feeling embarrassed, Sakura muttered an apology and hurried to put more soup on the tasting spoon.
"Please be careful though. It's really ho—aah!" Not missing a beat, he'd seized her hand and pulled the wooden utensil to his mouth. One deep blush from her and a quiet smack of his lips later, and Hashirama's face lit up as if he'd found the answer.
"You can definitely tell Tobirama didn't make this." Releasing her hand, he added, "That's a good thing."
Sakura tried to fight the shy grin, but in truth she was flattered. Zosui was a straightforward dish that didn't require much culinary talent in her opinion, but it was nice that someone liked it. Someone whose opinion was…of importance to her.
The moment was cut short by Tobirama's irritated voice, "You two aren't where you think you are."
The pinkette nearly dropped the spoon. 'What's that supposed to mean?!'
"Sorry," Hashirama's apology wasn't particularly apologetic, his smile laidback. "If I had to put my finger on it, I'd say this could use an earthier flavor to ground it. I'd suggest mushrooms." From a hidden part of his kimono he pulled forth a small pouch. "I happen to have some on hand—"
What he happened to have on hand was an endless supply of eccentricity…
"Hold on." Sakura squinted, "You're just carrying those around with you? Mushrooms." It brought to mind the time he had pulled berries from his clothing in the Nara Forest.
By the expression on his face, Sakura could tell Hashirama had only just begun to see how that could be viewed as downright strange.
"Well." They gave Hashirama time to consider his response. "I know a spot where they grow even in winter. I gathered some earlier."
All that did was raise the question of when he had the time.
"Get rid of them." The hairs at the back of her neck rose, catching the dark look settled across Tobirama's face from her peripheral. While the man was always grouchy, Sakura didn't understand why mushrooms offended him so deeply. He hadn't even been so angry when she had started taking charge of the meal preparation. He had a block of tofu in hand now, and he was starting to chop it up rather…aggressively.
Hashirama pouted, brown eyes wide with rejection. Nothing about seeing the Hokage make such a face was dignified, but in spite of her best efforts, Sakura felt sympathy rising.
Maybe him trying to add his own assortment of strange fungi to the recipe was uncalled for—so was popping up from absolutely nowhere—but there was no reason to be harsh about it. Ultimately, he had a right to want to help his clan anyway he could.
"Um," Sakura cleared her throat. "We don't have to use all of them, but thinly sliced mushrooms could possibly—"
"Absolutely not a single one is going into this pot." Tobirama had already finished cubing up tofu and dumped it into the slow simmering soup.
Sakura was relieved that he'd changed his mind about the soup being done as is, although she couldn't figure out why he was attacking the tofu with so much animosity. What had it ever done, besides be a little bland without the help of some seasoning? If anything, it should be the most relatable food in existence to him.
Grabbing up another block, the white-haired Senju restarted the process and both she and Hashirama stood and watched. "Not if Hashirama picked them unsupervised." Likely in defense of himself, Hashirama raised a finger in protest, but Tobirama was having none of it, rounding on his brother and pointing the knife his way. "Don't start. Have you really forgotten what happened last time?"
Interest piqued, Sakura took the bait, heedless of Hashirama gulping loudly. "Last time?"
In what the kunoichi would personally deem uncharacteristic, Hashirama became preoccupied with playing with his hair while staring up at the ceiling. "It was a…small mishap that Tobirama's blowing entirely out of proportion."
Tobirama chucked more tofu into the pot with so much force they heard the splash.
"A man with a deep affinity for natural energy from a forest-dwelling clan should know better than to pick the first suspicious mushroom he stumbles across." He chastised, Hashirama shrinking back under the admonishment. "Though I suppose there's a reason you're not sick right now. Idiots don't catch colds."
There was a story there, and it was a great source of shame for the Hokage if his face said anything. "Tobirama…" the older brother begged, "It was a careless mistake!" Shaking the bag of collected mushrooms, he sighed. "The entire clan shouldn't have to suffer because of my one tiny mix-up."
Sakura wasn't sure if they even remembered she was in the room anymore, and she also wasn't sure if she should remind them, because whatever was playing out was as entertaining as it was baffling.
The sight of Tobirama stirring soup in an apron was also one she wanted to commit to memory since she wasn't sure she'd ever see it again. "The last time anyone let you put mushrooms in a stew, we found you bare as a newborn the next day in the middle of the woods."
Sakura could feel that image rippling through her brain, causing it to temporarily go blank. Huge eyes glued themselves to Hashirama, and he looked desperate to explain himself. "The…the mushrooms I picked may have had slight hallucinogenic properties. It wasn't intentional."
"Yes." Tobirama said flatly. "Naked. High off of some suspicious fungus. And what was it you insisted you'd had a run in with?"
"…A tree spirit of enlightenment." Hashirama admitted glumly.
Now back from mental static, Sakura found herself caught between pitying the man who had just had such a shameful (and bizarre) secret dredged up, and laughing hysterically. Her eyes were beading with water in an effort to hold the latter in. If the story became anymore absurd she'd lose it for sure.
Satisfied, Tobirama nodded. "In conclusion, those mushrooms could very well make the entire clan higher than the heavens."
In his defense the Hokage did an incredible job saving face as if she'd never heard the tale of his mushroom mistake. "Well at least let me add some shiitake." Hashirama put away his hand-picked mushrooms and walked the length of the kitchen until he came across a sealed container and pried the lid away. "They won't be as savory as the wild ones, but it's better than nothing."
Sakura surmised it was probably a fifty-pound barrel at minimum, but he picked it up and brought it over with ease, tossing handfuls of mushrooms into the pot without Tobirama's objection.
The whole thing was smelling delicious by then, and despite her presence initially being rebuked at every turn, Sakura decided she could tell Mei-san with confidence that she'd managed to make "stubborn Lord Tobirama" take the help after all. The soup would be done soon and ready to deliver. All that was left was adding in the pox cure, and Tobirama was managing that just fine himself.
There was only one burning question left on her mind. "Wait," Both brothers glanced at her. "You said the tree spirit you met offered you enlightenment…what kind of wisdom was it?"
Tobirama smirked over at his brother, which in turn only made him grow pale. "Who could forget?" he drawled, pouring the last of the medicine into the soup and stirring it around. "The wisdom of the ages it imparted on you."
Sakura had never seen someone's face go from tanned to pale, even as their cheeks lit up with vibrant red. "Bet away what's dear to draw fortune near."
Of everything she'd heard, somehow that was the hardest to believe. "What?" she choked out, praying she'd heard wrong. "You're saying that you met a forest deity, and the only thing it encouraged you to do was…gamble?"
Was she in disbelief, was she angry, was she humiliated for even giving this story so much of her time? Sakura couldn't be sure. What stood out to her was that perhaps she'd really been too hard on her shishou through the years about her poor money managing habits.
Clearly it was beyond her control as she came from a line that was downright afflicted. Sakura would go as far as to describe it as a curse. Or maybe, her inner voice supplied, this man had rubbed off on his granddaughter a little too much. More than anyone could have suspected at the time.
"Whatever you're feeling right now is only a small amount of the exasperation I feel on a daily basis." Tobirama offered in a roundabout show of solidarity.
The old adage was ringing truer and truer. Don't meet your idols. Or, in this case, past Hokage. Sakura stifled a long mental wail. 'The history books call this man a god among shinobi!'
ASiT
Steam rose up from the bowl Sakura passed into small, shaking hands. Reira dipped her head to take a delicate sniff, grinning tiredly. The room was generous for a child's with thin sliding doors.
Considering the bright personality of the girl whom it belonged to, there was nothing particularly surprising about the scroll on the wall with the kanji for spirit. The small stack of books strewn across the table in the center of the room featured both old fairytales and warrior adventures, Sakura wondering when someone with as much energy as Reira kept still long enough to read them.
There were staggered, built-in shelves directly across from the futon where pieces to board games had been abandoned, and unfolded just behind their backs was a beautiful byobu gilded in gold and painted blue with goldfish varying shades of red, orange and gold swimming in different directions. This, Reira proudly informed her, had once belonged to her mother and passed onto her by Toka.
Sakura sat patiently on her knees and watched Reira attempt to cool the soup on her spoon with short breaths that left her winded. "T-Thank…" her scratchy voice trailed but the medic nin was only considered that she got her first bite in.
After visiting nearly thirty houses, all of them full of sick but grateful inhabitants, Sakura had announced herself at this one and been greeted by a sweaty faced girl with bags under her eyes, one who resembled a frail version of the vibrant child she knew.
With a short explanation, Reira was glad to let her in.
"Well?"
Unlike her usual manner of eating, the young child swallowed carefully. "It's…actually…good?" she had evidently surprised even herself. "As good as medicine soup can be." Reira stuck out her tongue, but fed herself more soup without complaint. "Tobi-nii really made this…?"
Shuffling until she was cross-legged on the tatami mat beside Reira's futon, Sakura rested her cheek against her knuckles, tilting her head. "I might have had a little bit of input."
Reira coughed, but nothing as terrible as the ones she'd heard in previous houses. "Knew it."
"It sounds like you've had his cooking before." Sakura winced discreetly.
Reira actually stopped eating and shivered. "Yeah…" Her burnt gold eyes drifted to stare at the mushroom she was poking at.
Snickering, Sakura figured she was in safe enough company. "He's not very creative in the kitchen, is he?"
The little Senju shrugged, sipping straight from her bowl. A small bead of broth escaped her lips and she licked it away nervously, glancing around like the walls had ears.
"Tobi-nii is good at lots of things. The problem is he tries to be good at everything. Fighting, making jutsu, raising koi fish…" Sakura smiled with amusement at the last mention. "But when I eat his food, it almost tastes the way it feels when he scolds me." Reira placed a hand over her stomach, and unable to help it, Sakura cracked up. It wasn't long before hers was joined by another, and the two girls sat and laughed until it spurned Reira to start coughing.
"Don't worry, you can eat up this time," The pinkette reassured. "The more you finish the quicker you'll get better."
"I hope so!" Reira gasped. "I can't miss a day at the academy!" She slurped down the whole bowl of soup so fast Sakura was afraid she'd choke, but it was gone to the last drop, vegetables and all.
"I think you'll be on your way to recovery pretty soon with an appetite like that." Sakura braced her hands on her knees and climbed to her feet.
"You're leaving…already?" Bowl empty, Reira sat it aside and flopped back into her pillow.
"I should check on Toka again before I go, but…it's getting late." Sakura nodded. "I think they should have delivered soup to all the other houses by now, and I don't think I should overstay my welcome."
Clearly it wasn't the answer the girl wanted to hear. "Aw…" She played with her sheet restlessly. "Fine…but come back soon, alright? We can play Ohajiki."
Sakura slid some hair over her shoulder and stared over at the games on Reira's shelf. Ohajiki brought back memories. It was something she hadn't played in ages. "Sure, we'll ask Toka if she wants to play too."
Reira's answering smile was a careful one. "Okay."
Sakura slid the door's shut, thinking about Toka's last admission and when she would share it with the person who needed to hear it most.
ASiT
A pox might be tough but Tobirama knew Mei-san was far tougher. She had watched after not only himself and Hashirama, but their younger brothers and many more Senju children than anyone could count.
In a time where sons and daughters were brought into the world and toted along onto battlefields soon after, barely knowing childhood and sometimes not parental affection, the stern, opinionated woman served as something of a comfort. Though unafraid to knock sense into them, there was no doubt that in her own way she cared.
She ate her soup without flinching, only stopping to have the water she requested. Thirst quenched, she eyed him heavily, and for a transient space of time Tobirama was reverted back to boyhood, when she would give him a sharp rap to the back of the head with her walking cane when he skipped resting for too long.
He was at least sure she wasn't about to hit him, though. She didn't have a stick anywhere nearby… "I can see you've had help." she commented, mildly.
Tobirama stared at her soup. "Yes." He scowled from beneath his bangs, knowing it wouldn't intimidate Mei-san. Back to his infancy, she'd been perhaps the only adult aside from his parents who wasn't at loss over his sharp manner. "Sending help was excessive."
Mei-san closed her eyes, savoring another mouthful of soup. "You still accepted it, though. The proof is in broth, boy."
Not ready to admit defeat, Tobirama shook his head stubbornly. "Only because you'd sent her."
"Ah," she clucked, frowning in disappointment. "You're forgetting there's a difference between lying to yourself and lying to me." She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as she poked a finger into his chest. "Who offered the help on whose behalf means very little in the face of your inability to take it. And in all my years, I have never seen someone as against the very idea of needing help as you. Straight from your mother's womb you nearly died because you wouldn't stop fighting long enough to get the cord from around your neck."
Tobirama sagged, a low, inaudible mumble coming past his lips.
"Speak up, boy!" Mei-san snapped. "A babbling brook is louder."
Tobirama barely fought the urge to duck. The phantom pain of a long-gone goose egg throbbed near the top of his head. Years ago, Mei-san would've punctuated that retort with a swing, just to see if he was paying attention.
Even knowing she was without it at present, Tobirama was cautious. "I asked where this was all going…"
"Where it ought to," she replied, sniffing. "And when it gets there you'll know, but in the meantime, you sit and listen to an old woman speak her piece." So he sat, because what else could he do? Incense burned low in the room like a smog, almost too thick, but this was how she preferred it, so he said nothing. "I like that girl. Just the right amount of fire, seems to know her way around sickness without whining, and if you couldn't send her running then there's no one in this clan who can."
It was a difficult thing to hold on to impassivity when Mei-san was openly praising someone, calling them competent. Compliments were certainly never given out needlessly with her. No, she was more likely to serve chastisements.
"She must be very special to gain Mei-san's approval." A warm chuckle filled the space with fresh air as Hashirama walked in wearing a dopey smile and brushing snow from his shoulders. He'd sensed him coming closer and closer and yet Tobirama was too used to his brother turning up suddenly to do more than shoot a hurried, dismissive look. Feigning obliviousness the way he excelled at, Hashirama settled himself on the other side of Mei-san, tilting forward and pecking her cheek. "Who is she?"
The old crone had the nerve to be entertained, damn her. It was written all over her face.
"Haruno." Tobirama harrumphed.
"Oh, Sakura-san?" Of course he'd react this way, transparent fool. She was fast becoming a favorite topic with Hashirama. Reira or Toka could bring her up, and even if it was only meant to be in passing, his elder brother was more than happy to speak about how thoughtful she always was. "You know, I told him some time ago he had my blessings. Now you have Mei-san's." Tobirama grunted as Hashirama slung an arm around his shoulders for a hug.
"Don't be hasty." Mei drank more water to keep her throat cleared. "I've only said she seems like a competent sort. Admirable, to be sure, but I'm far from advising you rush to anything binding."
Hashirama deflated, forced to cork his exuberance and Tobirama threw the heavy limb from his shoulders. "Thank y—"
"But if I were to advise…"
Tobirama withheld a groan when he realized he'd spoken too soon.
"It would be to think of the future now. You both may be occupied with other pursuits in the present but someday…you will desire more than this. Families."
The hearth was roaring but it was cold enough outside to where it didn't make the room feel sweltering. Now Hashirama tugged at his collar anxiously, a placating grin on his face. "I…we have family. Plenty! You, Toka, Reira…"
"Don't play dense with me, boy." This definitely would have been a time when she would go for her cane if she had it. "You know perfectly what I mean. And you are the clan head, Hashirama. Sole carrier of the Mokuton and Butsuma's eldest son."
Tobirama couldn't bring himself to experience pity. He couldn't even bring himself to try. After all the wheedling, the intrusive comments, the less than subtle hints, Hashirama was getting what he deserved. A taste of the discomfort delivered tenfold.
"Mei-san..." he took her hand and then briefly glanced his way as if silently asking for luck. Tobirama turned his head away unpityingly. "It's not something I'm ignoring, or even putting off." Here, Hashirama wasn't hesitant to stare pointedly his way again. "But I'd rather not do it lightly. I'd like it to happen in its own…time."
Her dulling hair was frazzled as it fell back to her pillow. "Were he alive, your father would see you marry to strengthen Senju alliances. Perhaps to a daughter of Uzushio."
Tobirama knew the very clan she was alluding to. "You mean the Uzumaki." A union between Uzumaki and Senju wouldn't be without merit. Their village was of an inconsequential size but they were impressive with their rich, red hair, their unusually strong life forces, and their unmatched proficiency in fuinjutsu. He hadn't seen one since they had traveled to Uzumaki occupied land to sign the treaty between Uchiha and Senju.
"Mm," Mei agreed.
Hashirama stared down at the hand that still held hers. "And what do you think kaa-san would want?"
"For you to be fruitful and long-lived." Mei-san's eyebrow quirked. "Love or no love, alliance or no alliance, she would want you to produce heirs, if only to see if one would inherit your gifts."
No one said anything as that grew cold and then eventually got swallowed up by the crackling fire.
"Pleasant as this has been, a sick old woman does require her rest." Mei mumbled with her eyes closed. "But I meant what I said. I do like that young lady."
Tobirama crossed his arms, allowing himself the eye roll that he had earned after the day he'd had. "Are you still going to insist that Haruno and the talk we just received are unrelated?"
Mei-san cracked one eye open. "It means just what I say it means, smart-ass!"
Hashirama clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes twinkling, Tobirama recoiling on instinct. Tobirama didn't know how she did it, but even half asleep she was effective with her scolding. "Neither of you should wait until the clan is in peril to bring her around. At the very least she's a smart, resourceful woman worth getting to know."
Her hand slipped from his brother's and her breathing evened. The lengthy chat had sapped the strength from her, but with rest and the help of his cure, much like with the others the hope was for a full recovery in a moderate timespan. Whatever else Mei-san was harping on about could…
"What?" he hissed, rounding on his brother who was attempting to laugh quietly enough not to disturb the slumbering woman.
"She called you a smart-ass."
"…"
The laughs kept spilling out as Hashirama slapped a hand to his forehead, nearly doubled over where he sat.
"Moron."
The last he saw of his brother before flickering away, he was wiping his damp eyes with the back of his hand.
Days rolled on and, finally good news came to her window in the form of a messenger hawk. Many suffering in the Senju clan were already up and around, everyone showing marked signs of getting better.
Sakura took a minute to hold the note close to her chest and take it in. She had been stumbling her way from day to day not really sure what had or hadn't happened originally in the timeline and tiptoeing around the inevitable that she was likely causing changes somewhere. Hopefully at least positive ones…
Like the choice she was making to visit the Uchiha compound and check in on Madara for Izuna's sake. Sakura was more than halfway to her destination and still unsure of herself.
But it felt like the right thing to do, out of obligation if nothing else. She may not have known every small detail about what should or shouldn't happen, but Madara had only gotten amnesia because she was there. Never in her life would she expect to feel guilt over someone like Madara, but never in her life would she have imagined she'd land in the position she was in.
So Sakura trudged on. For a winter day it was comfortable, so lots of people were out, making the most of the short sunlight hours, but still bundled in cloaks or additional layers. She'd opted to wear a padded silver kimono with white trim that depicted a scene of snow-capped evergreen trees, spending at least an extra hour getting into it correctly.
It made her blend in at least physically, but the more she thought of her true home and the trials she was supposed to overcome to get back to it, the more she felt a distance between herself and the citizens and shinobi going about their everyday lives unburdened by great destinies.
Sakura turned a corner around the artisan district and allowed herself a small, triumphant cheer under her breath when she saw the famous fan painted on the gates surrounding the compound looming up ahead. Two sentries stood around, neither appearing to be on high alert. Instead they talked among themselves, only pausing when they heard the crunch of her feet as she approached.
"Yes?" The female sentry asked, hand on hip.
Sakura held her chin up and tilted her shoulders back, pasting on a polite expression. "I'm hear to see Ma—Lord Madara." Addressing him by title felt as awkward as using someone's full name in place of just their given name. "He'll be expecting me."
The sentries looked at each other, thinking it over. The older man craned his neck and it popped loudly. "Say, you were at the meeting a ways back, right?"
Sakura brightened. "Yes, I was!"
He nodded along and rubbed the side of his whiskered face. "Uh-huh. Thought so. I'm usually good with faces if not names." Turning to the woman, he said, "I think we can let her in."
His partner shrugged. "Well alright, but if she causes any trouble I'll just say you told me to."
Sakura stepped back as they rolled open the gates and allowed her through. Nothing much had changed since the last time she'd visited save for the exception of the light sprinkling of snow everywhere.
She smiled when she passed a group of children using the modest amount of packed snow they'd been able to find to build a small fort, the smallest child more preoccupied throwing it up in the air than pitching in.
The peace once again sent a jolt of discontent through her, because no matter how much fun and laughs she had, peace was not something she would ever find if she stayed where she didn't belong…
'Save it for later, Sakura.' she directed herself.
If she could just stay grounded in the present, she could find the main house, assess Madara, and then be on her way. The layout of the Uchiha district was just as expansive, or maybe even more so, than the Senju's and she'd only been there once with Izuna as a guide.
It might have been prudent to ask for directions from the sentries, or clarify where she'd be seeing Madara before arriving. Sakura could smack herself in the forehead for being so scatterbrained as of late.
Her eyes darted around, trying to locate someone who seemed approachable and good with directions. She settled her sights on a young man carrying a wooden beam with a focused dip between his brows. While he wasn't the most amicable looking person around, he had a certain air of reliability that had her hurrying to catch up to him as best as she could in her kimono.
"Excuse me!" she shouted, cupping a hand around her mouth and waving with the other. "Could I ask you something?"
"Huh?" He swung around suddenly, forcing Sakura to duck under the beam. "Whoa, be careful!" It started to slip from his shoulder, but Sakura shot a hand out to grab and lift it with one hand.
Free of the beam, he stared open-mouthed, sizing her up in disbelief. Sakura let him; she was used to it. Not every day a woman her stature easily lifted a wood beam three times her weight.
"I didn't mean to startle you." She told him.
"You didn't." he said hurriedly, smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt. "But you're not really a familiar face."
"I'm Sakura."
"Hikaku." he smirked. Hikaku dark brown hair with bangs across his forehead and falling around both sides of his face with the rest up in a high ponytail. He wore the typical high-collared shirt the Uchiha clan favored and carried himself with confidence.
Sakura stowed the name away for future reference. "I'm trying to find Madara. He's uh, expecting me…"
"So you'd be looking for his house, huh?" Hikaku stroked his chin, then turned his face toward the sky. "This time of day I'd say he'd probably be out training. He and his brother have been going at it pretty hard lately."
Sakura blinked. "O-Oh…"
"Tell you what," Hikaku reached for the wood beam she was still holding and she carefully gave it back to him. "Just let me…" he adjusted it across his shoulders with a grunt, "take this to my neighbor's house and I'll show you the way."
Sakura didn't mind a detour, but a slender woman in a purple kimono breezed her way up to them before she could so much as agree. "No need." she chirped, setting a hand on Hikaku's shoulder and leaning into his back. Her dark eyes glittered at Sakura. "I've got nothing better to do, so I'll play escort."
Hikaku's eyes trailed up and over his shoulder. "Naoko…"
"I'll be on my best behavior." Her eyes told a different story, one that Sakura wasn't sure she wanted to be written into.
Hikaku was just as hesitant, but when he closed his eyes with a single shake of his head, she knew her fate was sealed. "I need to go and get this to Daichi. He's waiting on it." At least he remembered to give Sakura a nod as he headed off again. "Nice to meet you. Naoko'll get you there."
Sakura watched him go, wondering if it was too late to try and convince Naoko she'd be alright on her own. It wasn't that she had anything personal against the woman; she just seemed so…wily.
"Just us girls, now~" The Uchiha woman sang, looping her arms with Sakura's and starting off at a near skip. Flustered, Sakura didn't offer up much resistance as she took in the other woman. She was beautiful, in the way most Uchiha were, with full lashes, blue black hair cropped only slightly longer on one side than the other and neat bangs trimmed evenly above her brow line, and maroon painted lips. Her kimono she wore incredibly fitted, accentuating her toned physique without being distasteful. Catching her staring, Naoko only smiled a little. "I changed my hair recently, if you were wondering. I prefer to keep it spontaneous."
Not really sure how to respond to someone so whimsical, Sakura swallowed. "It looks good on you."
The Uchiha hummed appreciatively. They passed a dumpling stand, and the owner waved them over and handed Naoko two sticks, telling her it was on the house for her help. "Here ya go." She handed a stick to Sakura. "If there's a sweet shop in the district, then it's a guarantee that I'm their best customer."
They kept moving at Naoko's pace, so Sakura quietly ate her dumplings, fleetingly thinking about how this vivacious woman was close to Madara. How close were they still, she wondered… That thought stopped her short. Why did it matter to begin with?
"Thinking hard, huh?"
"Oh," Sakura blinked rapidly. "I…"
"I know you're here to check on Madara," she went on blithely. Sakura almost lost her footing, pushing her hair from her face and staring up at the dark-haired woman in open shock.
"What?" she sputtered. "No, he—"
Naoko laughed, and even that was melodic. She reached over and pressed a finger against Sakura's lips. "Ssh. No need to be nervous. Izuna's told me everything, and I know how to keep a secret or two."
Despite her playful demeanor, Sakura could tell that about this topic, at least, she was being earnest. That was enough to bring her heartbeat down some notches.
"So you know…how he lost it?"
"Actually," Naoko sighed. "Izuna didn't tell me that tiny detail. But I already assumed it had something to do with you."
Sakura discreetly looked to their linked arms. She didn't sense any hostility. Naoko's chakra hadn't spiked at all, her feet never faltering. But for some reason the pinkette worried about subtle retaliation.
"Why do you say that?" she ventured.
"I don't know. They both have been strange lately. It always seems to come back to you, in some way." Naoko polished off her dumplings, nibbling on the stick. The answer was cryptic, but Sakura didn't fight for clarification. She wasn't sure she wanted it.
Instead she stared at her dango, lost. Usually she'd tuck right into sweets, but her appetite was absent and her throat felt as sticky as the syrup coating the round little treats. "So you're very close then."
"To Madara?" Naoko tilted her head, her aura morphing her into someone lost in time. "Well I'd be lying if I said that wasn't true. Our history is complicated, and it stretches back to childhood. I will say, he's the only man I've ever given my trust to who didn't use it as a bartering chip."
That left her even more confused. Madara was a man known for manipulating anyone he deemed useful to the detriment of others and never himself. He had played Obito along for years, only to be in turn manipulated himself.
Naoko was so resolute she could practically feel the profound affection and faith when she spoke about him. It went much more deeply than lust, than friendship, than romantic love. Sakura didn't recognize what they had, exactly, but it was a precious bond to Naoko.
"Almost there," Sakura could see what she assumed to be the house of the clan head and his brother coming into view. It sat bigger than the rest, facing the row of houses as if guarding them. "Last chance to ask me all those questions floating through that pretty head of yours."
Sakura suddenly remembered where she was, who she was with, and she blushed. "I guess it's just that…you know enough about what's going on to be upset, but you're trying to be friendly instead? I don't think I quite get it," she mumbled, more mortified with every word, especially in the face of Naoko's patient expression.
"Oh no," Naoko crooned, suddenly stopping and pulling Sakura's head flush against her bosom in a hug. "Someone's bullied you over a man before? You can tell nee-san who."
"I never said," Sakura squirmed to free herself, managing after some effort and no help on Naoko's part. "I never said that!" She patted down her flyaways and avoided meeting the shameless woman in the eyes. Truthfully though, there was no saving face after that. A few older ladies walking by even giggled and sent Naoko approving nods!
Unabashed, the dark-haired kunoichi leaned back on her heels and pursed her lips. "Well, did you really have to? Isn't that what this is all about? You think I'll get angry, maybe territorial?"
Sakura wanted to deny it; she really did! She was right to be wary of this woman, who was far more than she first appeared. "I can assure you that we don't stake those kind of claims on each other, Madara and I." She placed a hand over her heart for emphasis. Then she started walking again, backwards this time. Sakura followed hesitantly only because Naoko had brought her this far. The Uchiha flipped her hair over her shoulder and it glinted in the afternoon sun like the sleek feathers of a raven.
"O-Oh…sorry for assuming."
Naoko shrugged. "I might if I were you. Oh, watch your step." Sakura was jerked up and over a patch of ice as effortlessly as if she were a child.
Quietly, she was impressed. That was easy enough for her to do, even to someone twice her size, but now that she paid close attention, even hidden by the kimono Naoko's arms were plainly powerful.
"Thank you."
Naoko's answering grin was endearing, open. "I think you're going to be nice to have around, Sakura." One of those toned arms landed around her neck, tugging her close again. Unsure what else to do, Sakura tried to remain relaxed about it.
"You think I'll be around more?"
"It's obvious at this point, and I'm fine with that. I think, no, I have no doubts we'll come to be close friends." Naoko squished her cheek into Sakura's with a purr. Nearly in unison they stopped, right at the edges of a training grounds.
There was a large, solitary tree bare of all its leaves keeping guard, a stray cat grooming itself near the base. At the center of the otherwise deserted area were Izuna and Madara, standing across from each other with swords drawn. They were evidently about to face off.
"Oh," Naoko bounced, eyes glued on the spectacle. "We got here just in time for the show."
Izuna knew without looking they now had an audience. Madara, however, felt the need to peek around to see who. "It's Naoko…and she brought Haruno." he stated, aloof.
Izuna knew it wasn't Madara being underhanded so he could get in the first strike. Since losing his memories his brother had become very blunt in most every way. Now every joke he told was almost certainly observational humor not intended for a laugh. Though it often drew them as a byproduct. It had at first, anyway.
Lately Izuna had felt himself growing paranoid. Soon they'd be found out and Madara deposed. Watching his brother's back constantly, to cover for him in case he slipped up, was taking its toll. He was exhausted… But he had a duty. "Just focus." he commanded. "You at least remember the majority of your combat skills so this shouldn't be so bad."
"You say that," Madara scoffed. "But you've been besting me more often than not lately, and I have the bruises to prove it." Unfortunately, he was correct there too. At one point, despite his prowess in swordplay, he was always beaten by his elder brother in the end. Now?
…Madara still fought hard, could still take down nearly every other opponent the clan tossed against him, quite handily. But when they fought one on one, Izuna saw differently. It wasn't that his brother's skills were rusty; it was more that he'd lost that innate spark of passion for battle that he once held. He'd hoped, been sure that, given time and practice it would come back. So far nothing.
Izuna took his normal fighting stance, no longer wanting to talk. "Ready?" Typically he wouldn't ask, just leap. Madara would anticipate him and be prepared to send a timely parry, but this man who wore his brother's face and almost had his abilities, needed the extra warning.
Madara mimicked with a sigh. "Yes."
The air barely shifted, the dirt beneath their feet hardly disturbed as they joined in a clash of blades, lurching away and then drawn magnetically together in a spark of steel. The usual fair for the beginning of their spars, going at each other to test the extent of the guard the opponent was putting up.
One small chink was an opening to be exploited, often painfully. Izuna rolled away, going in low for a strike. Madara flipped back in time, leaping nimbly to his left, swinging in a graceful arc that Izuna managed to block. Though it was pleasing that his brother was putting in the work at least.
Izuna danced around as he slashed periodically, once managing to send Madara's blade spinning before fast reflexes allowed him to catch and block in the same movement.
'This is…almost like old times.'
Their blades sang as they made contact, and Izuna was abruptly transported back to a long gone summer day when the cicadas were buzzing and all of Tajima's children were gathered together to take turns practicing.
"No, Izuna, stop ignoring your blindspot and assuming you'll get to the enemy's before they get to yours!" Madara blocked, sending him flying when the attack failed.
Izuna hit the ground hard, his breath leaving him with a groan. When he cracked his eyes open, three faces hovered over, peering down at him. "Mada's right you know. You're kinda cocky cause tou-sama gave you your own blade." One of the twins giggled, jabbing a finger into his cheek.
"Oh hush, Koya!" Kamin chided. "If you had yours you'd be the same way."
"You're gonna get him one day," Sanna patted his head, "You already beat all of us."
Izuna pouted. "But…"
"But you're saying that's not enough, right?" All four siblings looked over to the eldest. "You want to go on raids with me, Father and the rest of the clan, go up against the Senju."
"Big brother…" Izuna gaped. "How'd you know?"
Madara walked over, bending down and pulling Izuna up. "Because I use to be in the same position!" He jabbed Izuna right between the eyes with his pointer finger, snickering when it earned him an angry shout. "So how about it? Wanna try again?"
Izuna rubbed at his forehead, pout turning into a full blown grin. "Yeah!" He took his stance again. "But don't go easy on me just 'cause I'm still learning, okay?!"
Madara got ready, holding his sword out in front of him. "No way. I'd insult you if I didn't go all out."
"Madara," He briefly locked eyes with his brother as they locked swords once again. "I'm not going to insult you in this battle with anything less than my best. So don't you dare…insult me!"
Izuna was filled with ferocity as he spun, Madara stopping the attack but pushed back in the process. Unrelenting, he changed direction and swung in a spin again with the full force of his power behind it. Instead of attempting to block blade for blade, Madara flickered from sight.
Half-expecting it, Izuna had only to look up to see that his brother had indeed attempted an arial assault. The tip of the blade struck his before Madara even had both feet on the ground, and sparks so vicious they could have been mistaken for lightning rose between them, the younger brother feeling the pressure bend his knees slightly. 'Yes!'
This was the Madara that he had been waiting to fight again! Regardless, it didn't mean he'd let his newly spirited brother win. Letting his arms go lax and then shoving back last minutely sent Madara flying, no longer able to fight gravity and caught off guard by the amount of exertion wielded against him.
As expected he landed safely on his feet, though Izuna charged at blinding speed, catching only a small glimpse of pink and black haired figures on the sidelines as he went straight for his brother's unguarded back. Madara spun and blocked, turning it into a full strike that Izuna ducked under, losing some strands of hair to the blade's sharp edge.
At traded intervals they flew, one brother leaping from the ground and unleashing a flurry of attacks while the other did his best to move from under the barrage and go back on the offensive. Anyone watching likely thought they were going to end up killing each other, but it really couldn't have been more fun than feeling like he had his brother back.
At the very least some parts of him. As his attacks grew more persistent, Madara's occasionally let up, almost as if he'd become distracted. Izuna couldn't understand it. While his eyes never left their match, his mind must have been far away from their training.
Making one more decisive maneuver he was sure would end it, Izuna lifted his sword high, face perfectly blank. Madara quickly raised his own sword to stop the downward strike aimed at his head, only for Izuna to change his trajectory and throw his brother off balance. He landed flat on the ground, blade not quick to keep the one dangerously close to stabbing him throw the abdomen at bay. "Izuna, what are you doing?"
Izuna growled as Madara grabbed his blade, crimson coating the polished steel as it sliced the flesh of his palm. "Giving you my all like I promised!" So rapidly his mirth had become something else, throbbing, white hot and insatiable.
"Stop!" A voice in the distance shouted, one he vaguely recognized.
Stopping wouldn't be what his brother wanted, though. Izuna panted, a bead of sweat falling into his eye as the wicked edge sank agonizing inch at a time into yielding flesh, Madara's eyes flashing defiantly all the while.
"I said stop!" The explosion of pain in his cheek made the earth move under him, blade dropping from his hand. He swayed uneasily on his feet, blinking the red from his vision. It was only when he rubbed at his eye and the crimson tint didn't fade that Izuna realixed his vision was truly red from activation of the Sharingan. 'When did I…' It hardly mattered, not when Madara was on the ground trying to yank a sword from his stomach and Sakura kneeled beside him, screaming at him not to.
Reeling, only the arms catching him kept him from the ground waiting to meet him. Izuna carded a trembling hand through his hair as Sakura turned burning eyes on him. "Why didn't you…why didn't you stop?"
"I couldn't." He hadn't meant to say that, but it was true nonetheless.
Dazed, he staggered from Naoko's arms, not sure he wanted the comforting just then. Not sure he deserved it. Because deep down, some ugly thought had drifted through his head, and without much hesitation he nearly acted on it.
Madara. Sakura. He couldn't look them in the eyes.
The choice was clear, and he took the first opportunity he had to put distance between himself and all of them.
One minute he'd been at the mercy of Izuna's blade biting into his stomach, the next Haruno was leaning over him and openly showing more worry on his behalf than he could ever remember seeing her show before. Naoko had...suddenly vanished. Leaving them alone together. "Here, let me see that." Feeling dizzy, Madara held out the sword that had been laying next to him.
Haruno batted it away with an exasperated glare.
"Alright," she took a deep breath. "I'll make this quick." She drew the sword from his flesh before he had time to pass any sort of sarcastic reply.
"Shouldn't you have just left that?" he grunted, her hand beating his as it pressed to his wound.
"No, I'm going to cauterize it." She tried to draw up his shirt, but he hunched in on himself, ignoring the searing pain. Haruno protested as he climbed to his feet, dragging himself toward the porch that overlooked the training grounds, where fresh medical supplies waited. Haruno tugged at his arm. "Where are you going? I haven't even—"
"I don't need medical attention for this." He insisted, snatching his arm away. Apparently she found his response so unfathomable it stopped her in her tracks. That gave Madara enough time to tumble onto the porch before she caught up.
Without preamble he took his shirt off, feeling the chilled air on his sweaty skin the same time he felt the pang from his wound. His bloody hand over his bloody stomach, the Uchiha reached for something, anything, to flush the gash out with.
"Ma-da-ra!" Pink-haired and terrifying, a raging Haruno stomped his way with steam streaming from her nostrils. She ripped the bottle from his hand and sat down right beside him. Their hips flush. "My next step is sitting on you." She seethed.
"Then take it," he taunted, grabbing her wrist and bringing the bottle of home-made antiseptic close. Haruno twisted away with a snarl.
"Why are you doing this?" she cried. "You could be bleeding internally."
"That would be cause for celebration in your case, wouldn't it?"
Placing the antiseptic down in her lap, Haruno balked. "I wouldn't…Izuna—"
"Caused this?" Madara gestured down with a sweeping motion, giving her a glimpse of his hand. She caught it between both of hers and studied the slice.
"I'm definitely healing this, with or without your permission." Her palm hovered just over his, green as she sat to work repairing the torn flesh. It tickled as her chakra flowed through him momentarily, and then it was over. "I could heal your stomach wound just as fast if that's what you're worried about." Green eyes shone in challenge, daring him to deny she was capable. Quite the opposite, Madara knew. That was the problem.
"You could, I'm sure." He clenched and unclenched his previously injured hand. No pain. Not even a scar. "But what would I be learning from that?"
Madara knew even without an intact memory that it wasn't the first time she'd looked at him as if he was married to insanity. "The only thing you'll be learning about is the hard, painful recovery that comes with an injury like this!"
"It's not like I expect you to understand, Haruno," he smirked through the pain. "But if you're only trying to heal me for my brother's sake, then consider maybe I'm trying to prevent that for his sake as well."
Although he could tell he'd made her truly angry, Madara couldn't help but think she was far more attractive this way. The danger that made her eyes a darker shade of green, the rose to her cheeks, the static settled into her hair. Yes, much better. "Stop saying things that don't make any sense and acting like you're handing out divine wisdom at the same time!"
"A medic who isn't nearly as perceptive to ailments she can't see?" he chuckled, plucking the antiseptic out of her lap and getting the cap off. "That's…unfortunate."
"Give that here!" she seized it from him, but unlike before, when she unscrewed it she dumped it onto his wound without pause. Madara sucked in a hiss; deep inside, though, a part of him wanted to purr. She was a downright spiteful thing when provoked, and that kept her interesting. "There, happy?"
"That's not fair," he heard himself rumble. "If I said I was you'd only call me names."
Haruno shook her head and tried to pretend that her blush wasn't reaching critical levels as it spread down her neck. "You said you don't want me to heal you because of Izuna…explain that…"
Madara thought back to all the signs he'd witnessed. In hindsight Izuna's actions were neither random nor unpredictable. "He's in pain. He has been for a while." Admitting all these things to someone, to Haruno, wasn't what he'd planned, but she was here, and listening, and Izuna definitely trusted her. "I didn't see it because I wasn't trying to."
"You can't always know what's in someone's head." She mumbled. Haruno had snuck her hand over his injury, probing. She wasn't trying to heal it just yet, so for the time being he allowed it. "Even if they're—"
"This pain links me to Izuna's pain. It reminds me to do better as his clan head and his brother." Just as she began to switch her chakra from probing to healing he threw her hand from his body, growling down at her. "You aren't going to heal it."
Haruno was just as stubborn and just as fed up. "Fine!" She snatched the bandages and tossed them his way. "And if Izuna asks why you suffered through a preventable injury, remember who didn't want to have it treated."
"I never said anything about not accepting any treatment. I'll heal with time." Madara huffed, unwinding the bandages and starting to wrap himself. He knew by the third pass around they were neither neat nor tight enough, but Haruno was still watching smugly.
She drew her knees to her chest and leaned her elbows on them, head in her hands. "Good news for you is you're not internally bleeding so I guess if you're alright with it, then there's nothing much I can do to dissuade you."
Madara felt a short surge of triumph, until the wrap slipped from his hands and bounced once, Haruno catching it before it unwound too far. "But what you're doing with this bandaging is a travesty,"
Silently, she stood up, and he fleetingly thought she would leave him to his pitiful wound care job. The skin of his spine prickled when she settled in close behind him instead, shuffling uncomfortably in her kimono until he felt her knees against his lower back.
Unlooping all his previous work, she ripped those bandages and tossed them to the side to start fresh. With an efficiency and speed he simply didn't possess in the field, she was rewrapping his stomach, the scent of her hair in his nose and stirring something in his lower stomach each time it tickled at his collarbone when Haruno leaned in. The next time she did, Madara reached back and grabbed both her wrists, yanking her closer than ever.
She gave a pitiful squeak, nothing like the courageous lioness who fought him tooth and nail. Out of her element, she froze up, her thundering heart against his back the only indication she hadn't outright stopped breathing.
"Slow down and show me," he told her. "I'm going to need to know how to do this myself when you aren't here." Haruno's breath on his neck made his stomach lurch more than he expected. Madara wondered if his body reacted this way to her even before he'd lost his memory. At the moment he'd give anything to remember that if nothing else. It wasn't much of a power play when he was as effected by her close proximity as she was by his. "Unless you plan to come every day and nurse me back to health."
The indignity inherent in that suggestion did the trick. Sakura jerked away, cuffing him once upside the head. "Do that again and I won't even finish wrapping this!"
Madara knew better than to doubt her conviction in following through on the threat, but when she slowly wrapped more bandaging, giving him instructions on how to handle the injury by himself, it all struck him as funny. Absurdly so. "Hehe…hehe…"
Haruno's heat left his back as she pulled away. "These must not be tight enough if it tickles." she said waspishly.
"You…" he mused. "It's so clear by the way you speak about me, who I was, that you and I were not close. Perhaps I once wronged you in some way." He felt the muscles of her forearms, which rested on his shoulders, tense. "I wonder…how must the man I was have looked to you, through your eyes."
This time, even without making contact he knew her heartrate changed and she was startled.
That was even more incentive for Madara to keep going. "Needless to say, whoever I was to you, whatever I've done, it seems unlikely that you would help me now. You claim it's for my brother, but everything I've pieced together makes me feel you should be comfortable leaving me like this."
Her arms slipped away from him. He heard her ripping the bandages at last, felt her finish placing the last strip and then tucking it in. "When it comes to patients medics don't get to hold grudges." A sharp inhale through her nose. A barely audible exhale from her mouth. "Right now, you're not even that person. What's the point in holding an amnesiac accountable for something that might never be made right with or without your memories…? I don't even know how much it matters anymore! I…I spend every day trying to figure out if it's right to hate you when you're like this!" Her fingers dugs into his shoulders as her hands rested there. "You're only this way because of me, after all."
Madara could feel some of the weight leave her grip, the tension she'd been holding in…release. Unintentionally he'd given some way to find a new resolve. That was the instinctive knowledge her body language was expressing to him. "What you're saying is that you've found a way to forgive me in this state? Or does pity simply outweigh animosity?"
"What I'm saying," Haruno fiddled with the bandages one more time. "is that you should focus on getting better. Heal. Try to get your memories back. Then we'll talk about what can and can't be forgiven."
To make sure everyone understands the gist of the first scene, Sakura has overcome what was happening to her on the mission, which was her succumbing to all the dark emotions and lust for revenge and power that the blights were causing. Now that it's no longer an issue she's moving on to the next step of her godslayer training. In order to put herself on a more equal playing field with foes who are literal deities, she works with Mizuchi to tap into what, for the time being, we'll call the Dragon State. Think of it sort of like a Sage Mode. Except it's not fueled by senjutsu but an entity's essence/life-force.
Ohajiki is an indoor children's game similar to jacks and marbles that was popular with girls starting around the Edo period.
Byobu is a type of folding screen used as a partition.
Oyaku is a dish that is basically rice porridge, and known for being very simple and mildly flavored at best.
Zosui is sort of like rice soup made with leftover pre-cooked rice usually, and mixed with a variety of vegetables, broth stock and maybe some meat. Although Sakura and Tobirama are initially at odds about which one to prepare, they both are traditionally dishes eaten a lot in winter (the season this chapter is set in obviously) and both are often served to the ill because of the nutritional value but also because they're dishes easy to digest/keep down.
On that note…some time ago I was speaking to another fan and we talked about how Tobirama's practicality might affect how he does domestic things like cook. Surely a very efficient man such as Tobirama would have no problems preparing a meal in theory, but joking around, we concluded it's very likely his food is bland because he sees flavoring as being unnecessary so long as it's chock full of nutrition. That's all food is really for anyway, right? Who cares about taste when it's irrelevant? XD Cue Hashirama and Sakura begging him to season that food! Tobirama constantly gets some flak from readers for his prickly demeanor around Sakura in past chapters. I don't mind exploring a more…human side in this one.
Also, many people keep asking about Madara and exactly when his memory will be restored. Honestly, it's strange to even ask because I think it's obvious by now I enjoy my twists and turns. The scene in this chapter was to confirm that the subplot of Madara being without his memories and Sakura struggling with how to treat him is not over.
I enjoyed writing this chapter very much, much like the last one. If you enjoyed it to, comments are always appreciated. Still very busy this summer, so I'll update…when I can update. Who knows, the next one may even come from the new house (I can hope). Hope everyone who lives wear it's unbearably hot (such as where I live now) is beating the heat and reading this under the AC.
