"I can't believe I missed this broadcast," Naruto muttered.
The television continued to play the now-famous interview with Madara Uchiha again. Madara smiled at the camera, looking as cruel as ever with his slicked-back grey hair and ominous red eyes. His iconic three-pronged scythe remained at his side throughout the interview.
"You didn't miss anything though," Sakura said, while tying the shoelaces of her very expensive and very high-quality dance shoes.
"Perhaps not. But now I'm even farther from It."
Sakura stopped what she was doing to look at him with what was, hopefully, a "are you serious right now" face.
"It? That's what you're calling It now? Damnit! Killing Madar-"
"Killing Madara Uchiha. And yes. Yes It is."
"...I'm not sure why I hang out with you."
"You were going somewhere, remember?"
Sakura made to sprint out the front door of her not-friend's apartment, and promptly met the doorstep in a painful impact. She pushed to her knees amid mad, cackling laughter.
She glared at Naruto. He was too busy rolling on the ground to notice.
Sakura took off her left shoe, and started a one-legged limp to the training ground she practiced at. Ha. Practiced. It wasn't Saturday yet, but she wasn't going to make any progress at this rate, and she'd decided she'd much rather make a fool of herself without Guise and Hinata watching anyway.
Naruto seems perfectly content to move forward with It while I'm busy anyway. It? Even in my thoughts now? How the heck does that even happen?
Sakura made a face.
Probably because he's so busy preparing for Killing Madar-"
"Killing Madara Uchiha!" A voice yelled behind her from the direction of Naruto's apartment.
"I didn't even say It! Oh, not this again..."
"...into a complete and utter mockery. That pathetic, insignificant imitator made my beautiful plan out to be an insane, mishmash of random ideas! I sounded like a complete imbecile."
"The plan made sense to me, Uncle," Pein said supportively, patting the immortal on the shoulder.
"Hmmph. You understand. Actually, that's not necessarily a good sign. As a matter of fact, neither was Obito's support for it either."
"But Pein is a good boy!"
"No," Madara said, narrowly avoiding toppling off the thin, borderline suicidal road down from the mountain he had landed on, all those years ago.
Blindness, the man concluded, was complete and utter horse shit.
It was hard to appreciate just how much one relied on the Sharingan until it was taken away from you. Forcefully. Madara couldn't remember a period when he hadn't used it in the latter decades of his life. Once you had enough chakra, there wasn't any point in turning it off. It simply made everything easier.
Clearly, he had underestimated how much his abilities could be attributed to it.
"Be careful Uncle! There's ice up ahead!"
"I am Madara Uchiha. Not some pitiable child to be coddled and treated like-"
Whatever else the man planned on saying, he was cut off by the experience of going flying off a wet, ice-covered ridge. The thumps lasted a good eight seconds.
Pein peered over the edge, seeing the long slide-lines below.
"Are you alright Uncle?"
"GO THROW YOURSELF IN A FIRE!" A voice called back up from far below.
"Coming! Coming!"
Sakura's face hit a cushy pillow, as she attempted for the hundredth time that evening, to take a single step forward in her dance shoes.
She had since learned that falling on your face with frustrating consistency was something that could be worked around. Namely, with a pillow. While it prevented her from hitting the dirt, falling was the kind of thing that tended to hurt a lot, even with a pillow between you and the ground.
Sakura glanced down at her shoes. They were the most expensive ones she could find, mocking her with their glittering surfaces. They really did fit quite nicely.
The problem was her. What she didn't understand was how. It was like there was a blank spot in her natural instinct where "moving around in dance shoes" was concerned. No, not a blank spot. An inexplicable self-destructive tendency.
She sighed, packing up her shoes and slipping on her ordinary sandals. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
All natural intuition disagreed.
Sakura made her way back to the roads of Konoha, but was stopped by one of the oddest sights she had ever seen.
He at least appeared to be human, but that was about all she could label the thing wrapped in tattered cloth and fabrics old enough to be from before the near collapse of the world, some thousand years ago.
She assumed it was a he, based on the relatively broad shoulders, but that was somewhat undercut by the bright red hair that hung down to the figures knees, which were exposed, and shockingly pale.
A distant relative of Sasuke's maybe?
The figure turned to look at her, revealing a broad smile made terrifying by a lack of eyebrows and entirely too much eyeliner.
"Hello!" The man greeted cheerfully. "Could you perhaps direct me to the Egakoh Building? I'm afraid I've gotten a bit lost."
He scratched the back of his head, probably infested with head lice. Sakura couldn't help but wonder what exactly a person like this would need to do at the Egakoh Building, but perhaps she wasn't supposed to know.
We are shinobi after all, and as far as odd characters go, he's not even that extreme.
"The name's Gaara, by the way," the man said, pausing dramatically. He clearly expected a reaction.
"Nice name," Sakura said blandly.
"Surely, you've read my popular book series, Breaking Icha? Inspiration for the critically acclaimed television program?"
"Not ringing any bells," Sakura said, and immediately regretted it seeing the look on Gaara's face. She'd seen less gloomy faces at funerals.
"Mmm. Yes, well. I suppose you aren't as important as I thought. Nobody important has brown hair."
Damnit! He's right!
"The building's that way, pal," Sakura said, a little bitterly. The man's face lit up, and he set off on an odd skipping pace in the general direction of her finger.
First Mighty Guise, and now Gaara? She sure was meeting some expressive people.
"You say you know this imposter?" Pein asked, guiding the blind old Uchiha down the treacherous path.
"Yes. He was an old associate of mine. Or rather, an associate of one of the pawns of one of my pawns. I think. My memory's a bit bad. He went by the name of Hidan, back then," Madara said.
"So he was also impurely resurrected?"
"No. He was always something different, I think. In any case, he seems determined to ruin my reputation in this new, oddly repeating generation. I still don't quite understand how things turned out so similarly."
"To the old days?"
"Hmmph. That makes me sound old. ...Yes I know I'm old! You don't need to point it out." Madara's typical sour expression soured even further.
"I've had just about enough of this blasted cold. A fireball will do."
Madara, unfortunately, was not aware he was facing a very insecure ice wall.
An ice wall that did not take kindly to a near point-blank fireball of Madara size.
The rumbling avalanche after informed the Uchiha of his mistake.
Day 137: I still do not know.