ZERO (here) / BLEACH / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE / RED
Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it. - Haruki Murakami
"You're doing it wrong, you know."
Those were the first words Madara had ever spoken to her. Arms crossed across his chest, over his half-buttoned shirt. Staring down at her with those arrogant eyes glinting bright red.
"Then show me how to do it," she retorted. Unaware of how dangerous those words were.
A harsh wind swept through. Sakura squinted her eyes shut against the hair that blew into her face. When she opened them, the man stood just in front of her. Grinning with too-sharp teeth as he leaned over her. Those luminous eyes widened as he took in the golden light sputtering between her palms.
"What are you? 12? Don't even know how to do basic channeling?" he asked, eyes darting back up to her face.
"8," Sakura corrected him.
"Ah. Shit. Seriously?" His expression shifted. The furrow in his brows deepening as he squinted down at the magic twinkling and then dwindling in her hands. Thumb on his chin, he leaned in a little closer to the sparks.
"Are you channeling through your solar plexus or your heart?" he demanded.
Sakura made a face. "My what?"
He sighed.
"Take a deep breath, through your nose. Like this." And he demonstrated. Inhaling through his nostrils. He exhaled long and fast through his mouth. "When you breathe out, feel your abdomen move. Right here." He touched his stomach.
Sakura watched him do it once more before she tried it herself. Breathing in deep through her nose. Exhaling through her lips.
"Now try channeling your magic through that part of your stomach you just felt," he instructed.
Her eyes closed as she followed the steps. She gathered her breath, willing her strength into her palms as she exhaled. The golden sparks appeared again, but this time, they spilled from her palms, down her arms. They showered her clothes and the ground with bright lights before winking out of existence.
"I did it!" Sakura exclaimed. And when she lifted her chin to thank him, the man was gone.
The world overflowed with magic. It clung to blades of grass and wafted off the smoke rising from chimneys. It lingered in the alleyways, mingling with the smells of food from all around the world. A melting pot of pastelitos, General Tso's and doner kebab all in one.
Anyone who couldn't perform magic bought it. And the more complex the magic, the more valuable it was. Simple levitation charms and giggle potions could be purchased in the same vending machines that sold soda. People walked out of salons with hair that changed color in the sunlight. Sleepy janitors on the night shift could twist a finger and let the mop work by itself as they took a quick nap.
The city of Konoha was as old as it was busy. It wasn't where Sakura had been born, but it was where she was now.
She lived in one of the dorms at the Senju Institute. Many of the students there were children of non-magical parents and trained them to wield their powers. This program was, in essence, an orphanage, but no one liked to say that out loud.
There were many things to be grateful for. The Senju Institute fed her and kept a roof over her head. None of the teachers or fellow students were ever unkind to her. But a label seemed to hang over her head everywhere she went.
This girl can't wield magic.
No matter how much she studied, how much she practiced, she couldn't understand the lessons from the instructors. Who told her, "Follow your instincts" and "feel the energy". Which meant absolutely nothing to her. Besides that odd encounter in the library, Sakura had never managed to properly channel magic before. And as her classmates learned to conjure light and summon orbs of water, Sakura found herself falling farther and farther behind.
Tutoring sessions with the teachers did nothing. So while Sakura struggled with the application, she threw herself into reading up on the theory. Because maybe there would be an answer in one of those big, dusty books in the library about what made her defective.
If anyone wanted to know how to do magic, Sakura could recite it without a thought. The irony was comical, in some ways. Although, Sakura didn't find it very funny at all.
"You can't just show up whenever you want," Tobirama griped, not for the first time, as he watched Madara peruse the shelves of the school library.
"Relax. Your brother said it was okay. Isn't he in charge?" Madara said.
"Yeah. But I'm also in charge. And I hate you," retorted Tobirama. Madara snorted. And then he found his eyes drifting past the shelf. Past the balustrade. Downstairs, he glimpsed a little girl sitting alone at one of the long tables. Her nose buried in a huge textbook.
"That girl," Madara mused. And Tobirama turned to follow his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh.
"Ah. Sakura? Good kid. I feel bad for her," he replied.
"Bad? Why?" Madara's eyebrows rose.
Tobirama paused. He peeked over at the girl to make sure she hadn't heard them before he leaned in a little closer.
"She seems to have the spark, but she can't channel magic. Her pathways must be dead or blocked," Tobirama whispered, hand covering his mouth. Madara's mouth twisted, eyebrows rising.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
It was Tobirama's turn to look surprised as he watched Madara cup his hands around his mouth.
"Hey! Kid!"
The girl's head jerked up. Her eyes widened.
"You still remember this?" Madara asked. He held out his palm. Gold sparks flooded his palm, overflowing. Spilling over the railing. Down to the floor below. The girl nodded. She held up both her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip.
"Feel where your breath is. Push the magic through there," he reminded her.
Slowly, flecks of gold gathered at the tips of her fingers.
"Exhale. Push through your stomach."
Gold welled up in her hands. And then it began spilling endlessly, bouncing across the tile.
Madara turned to Tobirama with a smirk. "You know, Tobirama, sometimes telling people to just feel magic doesn't work," he rubbed it in. But Tobirama didn't even see the expression as he hurried down the stairs to examine the magic. Sakura looked from Tobirama, up to Madara. Her face gold as the light from her magic bathed her expression.
Madara raised his eyebrows at her as he descended the stairs.
"Hey. Try this," he urged. And then he closed his fingers around the sparks. They spurted between his fingers before they began to lump together. Burning red hot, thrumming with energy. When he opened his hand, a smooth black stone glistened in his palm.
Tobirama sighed. "Come on, Madara. Even senior level students struggle with transmutation."
The girl's forehead wrinkled. She grabbed Madara's hand, jerking it down to eye level. She scowled at the shimmering rock.
"How do I do that?" she demanded.
"Make the sparks. Breathe," instructed Madara, snatching the orb away.
She took a step back. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she summoned the golden sparks to her hands once more.
"Now. Kid. The magic is moving quickly because all the molecules are moving fast," Madara explained. He pointed at the sparks. She stared. "They're all vibrating. Bumping into each other. All because it's so hot."
"It doesn't feel hot," she protested.
Tobirama sighed again, shaking his head.
Madara shot him a dirty look before he looked down at Sakura again. "Well, you're not wrong, kid. I'll get into that stuff later. For now, just believe me. It's hot for the magic, alright?"
The girl continued to frown, but she slowly nodded.
"Then make the magic stop moving so fast," he explained.
She blinked a few times. Then lifted her chin to look up at him. "So... tell the magic to cool down?"
He thought for a moment. And then Madara smirked. Hand on his hip, he nodded.
"Yeah, kid."
She stared directly into the sparks. She sucked in another breath. And then she began to close her fingers, just as Madara had. As she moved her hands, she whispered to the sparks: "Cool... it's time to be cool. It's not hot anymore. It's nice and cool. Slow…"
Tobirama's eyes bulged as the sparks slowly darkened. The magic began to swirl together in her palms, rippling back and forth with each of her breaths. Then, slowly, it gathered into a solid shape in her cupped hands.
"Show me what you got, kid," Madara instructed.
As the girl opened her hands, the object between her fingers slipped out. Madara's hand flicked. It rose in the air, sparkling as it rotated. It was a crystal with a pointed tip. Purple, green, and blue swirled together in layers, gleaming as light bounced off the surface.
"Huh. Fluorite. Good quality too," he commented. When he flexed his fingers, the crystal began to spin in the opposite direction. But when he glanced at the girl, he saw that her eyes glittered even more brightly than the crystal she had created.
"I did that?" she whispered.
"Yeah. Impressive for your first try," Madara replied. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the crystal flying over to her. She held both her hands out. It fell into her waiting grasp.
Smug, Madara turned toward Tobirama.
"See? Kid can do magic just fine. Pretty gifted, honestly," he rubbed it in. Relishing the way Tobirama glared at him.
"I'll keep that in mind," Tobirama ground out.
"Can you teach me from now on? You're a good teacher," Sakura spoke up. Still clutching the crystal she had created.
Tobirama and Madara both looked down at her. Her eyes gleamed. Rubbing his chin, Madara considered this.
"Tell you what, kid. I'll do you one better." Madara grinned.
"Madara, no," Tobirama was already protesting.
"You ever had your own room before, kid?" asked Madara, hand on his hip.
It had taken some persuading. As a student of the Senju Institute, Sakura was technically in the care of the school itself. Plus, Hashirama, its headmaster, wasn't keen on the idea of just… giving a student away.
Madara, however, was not above playing dirty. When he began rattling off a list of all the ways both brothers owed him, Hashirama finally caved.
Madara would take custody of Sakura. He would instruct her on the fundamentals of magic. When Sakura was old enough, and had developed enough of her skills, she would resume her studies at the institute.
As Madara watched her pack up her things, he looked around the narrow room she shared with one other girl. Her roommate had some photos taped over her desk. There were a few posters on her side of the room. A picture frame sat on her nightstand. All Sakura had were her books, along with a blue vase filled with fake flowers. The books she scooped up into her arms and dropped into her suitcase. She didn't move to take the vase.
"Ready to go?" he asked as she set the suitcase on the ground. The things inside rattled around. Half-hollow. Half-filled.
Sakura nodded.
Madara's home sat halfway across the city from the Senju Institute. The inside of his car was old-fashioned, but it was clean. The worn leather seats gleamed. He drove with the windows down, his hair whipping back in the wind.
"So… what do you do?" she asked.
Madara pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His lips twisted to one side.
"I dabble. Been going by 'arcanist' for a while now," he replied. When Sakura continued to stare, he laughed a little, teeth glinting. "I research magic and how to put it inside things. I also come up with spells to use magic differently."
"Do I have to call you 'dad'?" she then asked.
Madara wrinkled his nose. He waved a hand, as if shooing the title away from him.
"Nah. I'm Madara. You can call me that. Or 'teacher'. Whatever. Just don't say 'old man'," he answered.
Madara's home didn't look like much from the outside. But inside, it was filled with books, spell ingredients, and whatever other clutter he had gathered over the years. Candles bobbed in the foyer. Shoes floated into a closet as soon as they were off the feet. The welcome mat shifted colors whenever someone stepped over it.
It was also much too big.
Sakura's jaw dropped the first time she stepped inside. She backtracked onto the front steps. Stared up at the narrow apartment. Then stepped inside again, staring at how tall the ceilings were.
"Extension magic," Madara chuckled as he watched her dumbfounded expression.
The next few days were a blur of learning the house's layout and trying to absorb all the information Madara threw at her.
"There's no real schedule. Eat when you like. We can do your lessons in the afternoon, so you can sleep in," he said as he poured himself a glass of wine.
"What about school?" she asked.
"I am your school. There's nothing at those ridiculous schools that I can't teach you better at home," Madara scoffed.
"What about math? Or reading and writing?"
Madara heaved a sigh.
"Kid. I got it," he assured her.
Despite his attitude, Madara was a proper teacher. He waited for her to understand before he asked her to do. Whenever she asked for him to explain again, he did so. The technicality of Madara's casting made a lot of sense to Sakura.
"Not like that. Spread your fingers. You need to leave space for the magic to gather," he explained as he nudged her hands. He stood with his feet shoulders width apart. As Sakura adjusted, he pointed down at his feet. She inched her feet closer together until he nodded.
"Now. Let's try again. Remember, you need to break the bonds and remake them," Madara reminded her. He waited for her to nod before he took a deep, slow breath. Sakura copied him, feeling the heat gather in her fingertips.
Madara never made her feel like she had when she had stayed at the Senju Institute. Deficient. Slow. Somehow less than the others who ran around with their hands shooting sparks in every direction.
The Senju school of magic focused on drawing upon emotions and imagination. And while their magic was strong, it was also volatile and ran the risk of turning destructive.
The Uchiha family's knowledge of magic emphasized understanding the science of magic. What created it? How could it be channeled optimally? They were the ones who had discovered that wooden wands and staves are actually a poor conductor of magic. The discovery had led to the development of new casting tools that had filled up the family's accounts faster than the banks knew how to handle.
As Sakura spent more time with Madara, the more she realized that magic wasn't just about the spells. It was woven into the very fabric of reality. It changed the structure of objects and bent light. All she had to do was tug on a few strings to set things into motion.
"Water and fire are kind of alike, actually," Madara said. He held his hand out, palm up. His palm seemed to glow for a moment before a flame flickered to life just above it.
And with just a little more effort, he changed the fire into water. The droplets danced together before he crushed them in his palm.
"Why?" Sakura asked.
"It's all about the energy of the matter. If you change the energy, you can change the state of things."
Sakura touched her hand to her chin. "More energy is hotter," she recalled him saying.
Madara nodded.
"But more energy can also be gas," she went on.
Madara's eyes crinkled a little, but he said nothing.
Sakura's forehead wrinkled as she peered up at him. "Am I a water affinity?"
Madara nodded.
"And you're fire?"
Madara nodded again.
"Can someone be good at both?"
Madara thought for a moment. "Your natural affinity is what you'll be good at with little effort. It would be more challenging, but it's possible to do both well," he decided.
Sakura tilted her head
"What about earth?" she asked.
Madara laughed. He leaned back in his chair. "You must've driven those teachers crazy with all these questions."
Sakura didn't smile. She looked down at her feet. "They got mad when I kept asking…" she confessed.
Madara's laugh cut off. He examined her expression. And then he ruffled her hair. "Aw, kid, don't look like that. You can ask me as much as you like. Just as long as I'm not trying to sleep," he assured her. And then he paused.
"I mean... sometimes when I'm... ah whatever. Ask away, kid," Madara concluded. Watching the dimples form in her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile in return.
"Nice work today. Your basics are really coming together," Madara commended her over dinner one day.
Sakura smiled around her bite of chicken. She was doing that more and more now.
"Next, we should take you to an appraiser. Your folks wouldn't have brought you to Konoha if you didn't have an affinity for dream magic," Madara went on. He slathered a biscuit with too much butter, gesturing with his knife as he spoke.
Sakura's smile faded a little.
"They did it once. At the Institute," she admitted.
"And?" Madara prompted, cheeks stuffed with food. "What's the verdict, kid?"
Konoha was famous for the art of dream magic. Unlike elemental magic, which most people could learn to use with the right training, specialized magic couldn't be learned. It was innate. Dreams, shadows, thoughts- those were all things that ran in the blood.
Someone had once thought to call those would could handle dreams dream casters. It was a silly name, but it had stuck. A low level dream caster could bottle a dream that already existed and sell it for profit. A more skilled dream caster could amend parts of a dream, or even piece one together from scratch.
Sakura nudged a piece of broccoli on her plate.
"They never said."
They had taken one look at the paper and sent her back to her room. The subject had never come up again.
"Those fuckers," Madara sighed. His eyes widened. At the same time, Sakura's head jerked up.
They stared at each other.
"Was that a bad word?" she asked.
Madara's eyes darted to the ceiling. Then back to her. "Uh… yes. You shouldn't say it."
"Even though you just said it?"
"….Yeah."
"….Okay."
The test was simple.
Madara sent her to bed early that night. Reading the expression on her face, he mussed her hair.
"Don't worry, kid. It's not hard," he assured her.
Despite all the questions swirling around in her head, Sakura managed to fall asleep. And as she found herself dreaming of a park on a sunny day, she spotted a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. Madara lowered his round sunglasses with a smirk.
"Well. Only dream casters can meet in dreams. Gotta make room for that in your lessons, I guess," Madara mused, rubbing his chin.
When Sakura woke in the morning, she shuffled into the kitchen bleary-eyed. Madara stood flipping pancakes at the stove. Well, more accurately, he stood drinking coffee while a spatula flipped pancakes on its own. Madara turned his pointer finger in a circle. A glass flew out of the cupboard. The refrigerator door opened so a carton of orange juice would move to join the cup.
"You ever get any training in dream magic before, kid?" Madara asked her.
Sakura shook her head as she watched the glass fill with juice. When she held both her hands out, the cup lowered down into her waiting grasp.
"Good. Means I don't have to undo any garbage they put into your head at that school," Madara muttered.
Nightmares were a common issue for dream casters. Especially in children. Who had an excess of magic with no way to use up the energy. The surplus magic seeped into their dreams. Twisting things into horrors that only a child could imagine.
Madara taught her not to fear.
"You shape the dreams. They cannot shape you," he told her.
Each dream caster had a way of envisioning dreams. And a way to bend them to their will.
Madara saw dreams as swirling black mists. When he casted, he sank into the endless field of mist, feet settling onto the soft black powder that coated the ground. He pulled the mists into shapes, sculpting them into people and objects. He could even sweep bigger sections into the skies and the ground. And when he channeled his magic, burning red for just a moment up his fingers, he filled the mist with color and texture.
Sakura copied him, at first.
But even as she learned, Sakura loved watching him bend her dreams. Twisting the nightmare shapes into harmless stuffed animals and pieces of furniture. He conjured ice cream out of thin air. He could even make stars appear in the sky where there had been none. It all felt so natural. And it was so easy to do it once she had seen him do it a few times.
"Is it normal for us to have bad dreams?" she asked one night as he lit the incense in her room. The fragrance filled the air. Madara paused. And then he looked over his shoulder at her.
"In the beginning, yeah. Maybe it's the cost of walking through everyone else's dreams," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He lit the last stick of incense before he took a seat next to her bed. "But you'll stop having them. Or you'll learn how to make them good again."
Her room was right across the hall from his. He had heard her wake up crying the first few nights in the house. So it had become part of the routine for him to check on her. He never said why. He didn't really have to. And she didn't thank him for it. Somehow she got the feeling that it would embarrass him.
"I wish I didn't have bad dreams," she muttered, pulling the covers up to her chin.
Madara smirked. "Same, kid. Good night."
He mussed her hair before he got to his feet.
"Alright. So." Madara took a deep breath before he started.
"This is my little brother Izuna. That's my nephew Fugaku. And those are his two kids Itachi and Sasuke. This is Obito, I think he's a nephew. Or maybe he's a cousin. Cousin's cousin? Eh, whatever."
He pointed to each face in the photograph as he rattled off the name.
"That's too many people," Sakura said. Cheek in his hand, Madara nodded.
"Family's too damn big. Anyway, I'm the head, so you can be as rude or as nice as you want. No one's gonna say shit to yo-" Madara broke off as he caught himself swearing again. Sakura scrutinized his expression.
"I'm not supposed to say that word?" she guessed.
Madara sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah."
"Okay."
And then she turned her attention back to the album.
"So… they're my family too, now?" Her voice was suddenly tiny. Not like her at all.
Madara stared at her profile.
"Yeah, kid. You're not alone anymore," he answered. He rested his hand on top of her head. It was heavy, but she didn't complain or shake him off.
It wasn't difficult to get to know the other members of the Uchiha family. They came to visit often. So much so that Madara grumbled and threatened to kick them out each time they showed their faces.
But Madara's too-big house started to make sense. All the spare bedrooms were perfect for when someone wanted to spend the night.
Shisui liked to crash on the sofa when he fought with his family. Itachi used one of the guest rooms when he wanted to study dream magic with Madara. And Sasuke was there the most often. When he needed a quiet place. When he just needed space from his parents. Because "they care about me, but they're…a lot."
None of them batted an eye when Madara introduced Sakura as their cousin. Shisui took to ruffling her hair the same way he did to Sasuke. Itachi reminded her about elbows on the table and offered to help her with her homework. Sasuke was just relieved to have someone his age around now. After years of Itachi and Shisui ganging up on him for being "the baby".
The titles for how they were related to Madara were tangled and complicated. They called him "Uncle", and Madara called them her cousins. And that was good enough for her too.
Sakura liked it when her cousins slept in the house. The proximity made it easier for her to visit them in their dreams.
In the early years, when her magic was still a tiny little sapling, she could only visit a dream that was very nearby. And that was almost always by accident. She would stumble into a place that wasn't hers, baffled by the weight and shapes of things.
It happened the most with Madara, since he was usually nearby. And if he was irritated by her intruding on his dreams, he never let it show in his face.
But as time went on, she began to wield her magic with more ease. And rather than falling thoughtlessly into dreams, she could imagine the shape of the entrance to the dream world. It was a worn wooden door, painted deep purple. There were vines crawling up the edges, spreading towards the keyhole. Which made no sense, because it always opened without a key at her touch.
Madara taught her about the portal that would take her to the Uchiha family's dreams. It was a long corridor filled with ornate doors. Each one a different color and shape. And when she hesitated, Madara tugged her hand to pull her forward.
"Your door is here too," he had assured her.
And Sakura blinked. "Mine?"
She memorized the shapes and colors of the doors she knew. Itachi, Shisui, Sasuke, Madara's, and finally hers. The jeweled handles turning soundlessly under her fingers.
It turned out that even dream casters in the same family envisioned dreams differently.
Shisui dreamt of space. Each of his dreams was a different planet, swirling with cosmic dust. Nightmares were filled with storm clouds. Quiet dreams were barren moons that spun on in silence.
On the nights when he worked, sometimes Shisui let her tag along as he cast together people and places into one planet. Crushing them between his palms as they rotated faster and faster. Until light shone between his fingers. And when he pulled his hands apart, a planet or a moon spun in place. A dream that he would then pluck out of space and file away for later.
Itachi saw dreams as a vast ocean. When he casted, he plunged into a deep ocean. He settled onto the soft sand at the bottom of the sea. Corals bloomed and seaweed waved in time to the current. And he pulled the fish and all the shells together, weaving them into a beautiful dream that could lull the most anxious heart to sleep.
It was strange being where Itachi cast his dreams. Silence. Bubbles rising with each exhale, even as she breathed without a problem.
Sasuke's was unusual, even among his eccentric family. He dreamt of a vast warehouse of boxes and jars. Sakura trailed after him as he wandered the aisles, grabbing things off the dusty shelves. Sometimes she even carried some of the things for him, listening to him mutter and sigh as he tried to find just the right ingredient. And then Sasuke dumped all these things into the giant vat in the middle of his dream space.
It was fitting. Given how Sasuke liked formulas and order. Sakura sat to the side, watching as he brewed up a beautiful dream, more clinical and more calculated than those of his cousin or his older brother. But beautiful nonetheless.
With all of these influences around her, it wasn't difficult for Sakura to discover how to cast dreams her own way. She experimented with different styles until she found one that just sang in her palms.
When she entered her room in the dream world, she imagined fragments of dreams as colors and sounds. A little like Sasuke's, these fragments lived in glass jars that lined the walls of the room. But when she popped the cork, sound spilled out of each one. Someone's laugh. The honk of a car horn. People singing "happy birthday" off-key.
When these fragments swirled together into a tapestry of colors and sounds. Thrumming warm between her fingers until they gathered together into a solid shape in her hands. At first, she made them take the shapes of smooth stones. But over time, she learned to turn them into crystals instead. Just like the fluorite Madara had first taught her how to make. The stronger dreams became more jagged crystals. While the softer ones became rounded gems that sat warm and curved in her palm.
And just as she liked to visit her family in their dreams, they liked to visit her too. Itachi, in particular, loved to sit on a cushion in the corner, his chin in his hand.
"It's elegant."
Sakura turned to him, her hands still squeezed together. A snippet of laughter slipped through between her fingers.
"What?"
"The way you weave dreams. It's elegant. Just like Uncle's," Itachi clarified. He held his hand out. Sakura dropped the dream into his palm. It was a rose quartz, shiny and smooth.
Part of Madara's deal with the Senju Institute was that Sakura was required to participate in the same exams as other students. So, once a year, Madara drove her to the school. He parked his car in the lot and waited while she took the exams.
Some of the other students recognized her. They whispered, nudging each other with elbows. Some snickered as they waited for a good show as she failed to conjure anything. Like always.
Instead, she recited incantations forwards and backwards. Her hands glowed as she filled the room with a rippling aurora. She conjured balls of light and turned them into water. The muttering and smirking stopped right away.
It seemed silly now. And she could hear Madara's voice in her head. Imagine him slouching in a chair in the corner, acting like he wasn't paying attention even as he advised her to straighten her posture.
Breathe deep, kid. Magic starts with the breath.
Feel the heat gather in your stomach and pull it into your hands.
Water comes from your head. Imagine it spilling down your neck and arms. That's the magic pathway you need to use.
The sputtering instructors tried to speak with her after. But Madara leaned on his horn. Everyone rushed to the windows to cast a glimpse of Madara poking his head out the car, one hand cupped around his mouth.
"Let's go! Takeout's getting cold, kid!" he called.
"Coming!" Sakura yelled back out the window before she hurried down the stairs.
And as Sakura got into the car, Madara always paused to glare up at the school. "Anyone give you any trouble?"
"No. It was fine," Sakura always answered.
"Good," Madara grunted as he backed out of his spot.
At some point, Sakura couldn't remember when, she stopped calling Madara by his name. Maybe it was around the same time, he stopped calling her "kid" or "squirt".
It was odd, because that seemed like something important. So she should've remembered it.
But maybe it was because it had happened so quietly. So naturally.
One day, she looked at Madara's back as he stood in the middle of the massive library inside their house.
"Papa."
"Yeah?"
He didn't laugh. As if that was what she had always called him.
"Can we go over that transmutation spell again? I'm still kind of lost."
"Sure," he replied, already descending the ladder with several books floating down after him.
Before either of them knew it, years had passed. Sakura enrolled in the Senju Institute as a college student. She majored in Abjuration with a minor in Divination. When she graduated with full honors, Madara had barely batted an eye.
"Didn't expect anything less from you," he assured her as he took them out to dinner to celebrate. They clinked wine glasses together.
Four months later, she was back for her Masters in Magical Research. She commuted from home, like she had during undergrad.
"You know, you're always welcome back here," the headmaster liked to mention whenever they bumped into each other. Which was a little too often for it to feel like coincidence.
"No thanks," she replied, barely looking up from her textbook, "I like where I am."
She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling as she pretended not to notice how the headmaster's eyes narrowed.
"Tell that old man to go fuck himself," Madara scoffed when she brought it up over dinner.
"Papa. Language," she chided. She flicked her wrist. The pepper shaker glided across the table, into her hand.
"That is the right language for him," Madara snorted.
Fourteen years had passed since she had come to live in that house. Her room still sat across the hall from Madara's, all the way up on the top floor. In all that time, Madara had never once nagged her about staying up late at night. He didn't complain about how she used all the hot water in the house whenever she showered.
The closest they had ever come to fighting was when he had insisted upon hanging her diploma and her graduation portrait in the foyer. She thought it was embarrassing. Especially since Madara loved to brag about it anytime someone visited. He refused to let anyone inside until they made some sort of positive comment about the diploma. It made Sakura groan and put her head in her hands.
"You hate it that much?" Madara had teased at first.
Lifting her head, Sakura wrinkled her nose. She couldn't really say 'yes', though.
"And this is where it all starts."
It was early in the morning on a Friday.
Magic trembled in the air. Like a raindrop clinging to the underside of a gutter. Wobbling. Waiting until the moment that gravity would drag it down.
Madara rolled onto his side, his ears ringing and his ribs sore. He started when he heard someone exhale beside him. He didn't remember bringing anyone home last night. He wondered what time it was.
"Papa. I need to borrow your scrying bones."
He let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Sakura's voice. Pulling the covers over his shoulders, he turned over again.
"Don't you have your own?" he groaned. He felt persistent pokes to his lower back.
"Yours work better," she insisted.
Madara didn't respond. But after a long time, he heaved another sigh. He raised his pointer finger and flicked it through the air. The bottom drawer of his nightstand opened. A black velvet pouch floated up, landing irmth of his blankets in the ear-
"Wait. Date?" Madara repeated, eyes snapping open again. The comforter tangled around his legs as he launched himself out of the bed. He scrambled to his feet, kicking the sheets aside as he hurried out of his room. Listening to the rattle of the scrying bones knocking together as she cast them to the ground.
"With who?" Madara asked. The door to her bedroom was wide open.
"A guy. We were in the same chem class last year," she answered. She stared at the bones she had scattered across the rug. She nudged a couple of them with her pointer finger. Madara scowled.
"Hey. Don't force the bones," he reminded her.
Sakura's lower lip jutted out.
"If you want a certain answer, you shouldn't be consulting the bones in the first place," he then scolded her.
Sakura pouted even harder as she turned around to stare at him. Madara flinched a little. He wasn't proud to admit that he had succumb to those pleading eyes on several occasions.
"This is important to me, Papa. Don't be mean," she insisted.
Madara exhaled noisily, rubbing his hand through his hair. And then he flapped his hand at her. "Alright, alright. Keep at it," he told her, crossing his arms across his chest. A proud smile crept across his lips as he watched the bones begin to glow a soft shade of gold.
Divination had always come easily to her. And especially with this set of scrying bones.
Wisps rose from the blackened cracks in the bones. Sakura leaned in to listen to the whispers.
Eyes widening, she turned her head to look at her bed. There were a few different sets of outfits laid out on her comforter.
"Really? The red one?" she mused.
The bones hissed something else before the mist dissipated. Sakura stared down at them for a moment.
Beware of the dreams that linger, they had whispered.
"What?"
Sakura looked up to find Madara still in the doorway. He yawned as he stretched his arms over his head.
"You've got an eye booger, Papa," she pointed out.
Madara rubbed his left eye.
"No. The other one."
He rubbed the other eye.
Sakura scooped the bones up and dropped them into the silky pouch. She tied the string. Madara held his hand out. Sakura tossed the bag up into the air. It drifted to Madara, landing in his waiting palm.
"Do you have time for breakfast before your date?" he asked.
"Yeah. It's not until tonight. Can you make pancakes?" she requested, staring up at him. Madara grumbled, scratching his stomach. Sakura pulled on the bottom of his shirt as he shuffled past her.
"Go wash your face," he sighed as he walked out of her room. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bag of scrying bones flying back into their spot in his room. Bleary-eyed, Madara made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen.
They had breakfast a little while later. Sakura laughed when Madara almost poured maple syrup into his coffee. Madara snorted into his food when Sakura read one of her texts out loud. Sakura snorted too as he began choking on his food. They were both in tears and wheezing by the time they had cleared their plates.
After they did the dishes, Sakura glanced down at her watch.
"I'm gonna go to the shop first. I won't stay out late," she promised. She gathered her hair in one hand and pulled it off her neck as she searched for her phone. Madara froze. Sakura looked back when she felt his stare.
"What?"
Madara blinked hard. And then he smiled.
"Your phone's in your hand, kiddo," he pointed out.
Sakura looked down. She laughed. Madara did too as he went to pour himself another cup of coffee.
The Uchiha family's dream shop sat in a quiet street not far from Madara's house. It was close enough that she could walk, although Madara insisted that she ask him or one of her cousins for a ride at night.
It was a little cramped. And they could more than afford to move into a larger space. But there was something charming about that crooked shop. About the way they had to scoot past each other on the narrow stairs.
The sign above the door was in the shape of a paper fan. The white and red paint was peeling. Shisui and Sasuke nagged Madara about upgrading to a neon sign every once in a while, but Madara had ignored them for years. And would, undoubtedly, continue to ignore them for as long as possible.
The store was already open when she arrived. Sakura felt a faint hum in the air as she rested her hand on the doorknob. Bells chimed as Sakura stepped into the shop. The dreams sat on the shelves that lined the walls. They glowed white for a moment when she stepped inside. Then they faded back to their natural colors. Dreams about adventures were green. The ones about love swirled pink and light purple.
These dreams had been collected from other people. Friends, acquaintances. Sometimes just strangers who slept beautifully. Sakura dove into their dreams and took a part of it home with her. Gathering the stray bits of the dream matter in her hands like glistening threads as she walked. As long as she was careful, when she woke, those threads were still in her hands. She could slip them into jars with a hint of enchantment to stabilize them.
It was one of the first things Madara had taught her outside of basic magic. This was the cheapest form of dream magic. After all, dreaming someone else's dream wasn't perfect. Details didn't always line up. Names and faces wouldn't make sense. But for most people and their budgets, this was enough.
"Hey," Shisui greeted her, leaning against the counter and the register. Sakura waved at him as she shut the door behind her. She ducked beneath the mobile of colored ribbons and bells that hung from the rafters.
"Is it just us?" asked Sakura, pulling her scarf off. She tossed it into the air behind her. Along with her coat. An enchantment caught them and pulled them onto the coat rack in the corner. The spell even straightened out her coat so that it wouldn't wrinkle.
Shisui tapped a pen against the counter. He tossed it and then stretched his arms over his head. "Nah." He interrupted himself with a big yawn. "Itachi's upstairs with a client right now." He blinked a few times, obviously exhausted.
Shisui rubbed his eyes with his palms.
"On the third floor?"
"Yep."
Sakura craned her head to look up as she thought.
"Sasuke's doing something at the lab. He'll be by later to lock up," Shisui then added. Sakura nodded.
The customers who weren't satisfied with buying prepackaged dreams were where they made the big money. Some wanted the dreams that were tailored to their specifications. Others had nightmares that they needed a dream caster to untangle. Both services required the dream caster and the client to be asleep at the same time. The therapy rooms upstairs provided the space these clients needed.
Sakura made a note to stay extra quiet as she moved around the shop.
Shisui watched the counter, checking on sales and appointments. Sakura kept busy organizing dreams and taking inventory of what they needed to harvest.
This was how most days at the shop went. They swapped out roles as their clients came in for appointments. Sakura's gentle touch with both clients and dreams made her popular with children. Women almost always requested Itachi or Sasuke. Shisui was the most popular among their older clientele.
Madara himself didn't come to the shop much these days. He always joked: "Why would I? When I have you kids to make all the money for me?". They only pulled him from his research when there was something the four of them couldn't figure out on their own.
On the nights that Sakura stayed late, there was almost always someone who would walk her home. Or Madara would drop everything to be there once she texted him. Hand on the back of the passenger seat. Grinning with those sharp canines that she had once found a little intimidating (how silly).
"Hey kiddo. Ready to go home?" was his corny greeting each night.
That night, Madara didn't pick her up. She still messaged him to let him know that she had left the shop, Sasuke would be closing up, and not to wait up for her.
Izuna brought jerk chicken. I'll pack leftovers for your lunch tomorrow, Madara replied.
Sakura sent him a series of purple hearts in response.
The date went well. Gaara had sat next to her for an entire semester. They had spoken a few times. Once, he had asked for a pencil. So it had surprised her when he had asked for her number, face turning so red he looked ready to explode.
Dinner was at a tiny Turkish restaurant. They sat at one of the counters by the window, a little squished as they bit into spicy lamb and crispy falafel.
"What are you doing now that we're out of school?" she asked. She took a slurp of soda through her straw as she looked over at him. She laughed when she saw him struggling to swallow his food to answer. She handed him a napkin.
"Eat. It's okay," she giggled.
Gaara blushed again as he wiped his mouth. The thin paper stuck to the oil on his fingers.
"I'm… working at city hall. For public works," he finally managed to say.
Sakura tilted her head to one side. "I'm not really sure what public works is in charge of," she confessed.
Something lit up in his eyes. He sat up a little straighter as he began explaining. "There are divisions within public works. But basically it's in charge of taking care of public buildings and facilities in the city. I work for the division that oversees the parks. I go out to visit them and check that they're safe. Sometimes I survey people to ask what they think we can do to improve things."
Sakura smiled a little. She leaned on her hand as she listened to him. And when he had finished, he glanced over at her. Suddenly small and quiet again.
"You really like your work, huh?" she commented.
He flushed bright red, all the way to his ears. But he nodded.
"That sounds really cool. What are you working on lately?" Sakura asked.
They stayed until the manager of the restaurant apologized and said it was time to close. As they stood on the sidewalk, Sakura puffed out a breath. It was getting cold at night. Her hands in her pockets, she cast a sidelong glance at Gaara. He was looking down at his phone.
"I'll call you a cab," he offered.
Sakura thought it over. And then she nodded.
"Sorry. I'd give you a ride if I had a car," he added as he pressed some icons.
Sakura snorted. "I don't have a car either. Can't judge."
He chuckled too.
And then as they stood waiting, Sakura heard him shuffle his feet.
"Uh… so… can I see you again?" he asked.
Sakura rocked back on her heels. She took a deep breath of the cool air. When she looked up at him, she was smiling again. "You're cute. You have good manners. You have a job that you're passionate about. I don't see why not," she answered.
His eyes widened. Sakura burst out laughing at the look on his face.
When the black car pulled up, Gaara opened the door for her. He waited for her to get into the back seat before he closed the door. And then he hesitated, fingers resting on the handle.
"Can you text me to let me know you got home okay?" he requested.
Sakura leaned out the open window. She reached out to tap him once on the nose. "Sounds good to me. Good night," came her reply. As she rolled up the window, his fingers slipped off the door.
Sakura listed out her address to the driver before she leaned back in her seat. She caught the driver glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
"Good date?" he asked.
"Yeah," answered Sakura with a smile.
Even though she had told Madara not to wait up, he was sitting at the kitchen table when she got home. She tossed her coat in the air. One of Madara's spells caught it and draped it over a hanger. Just like the one that gathered her discarded shoes and slipped them into an empty spot on the shelf. She climbed the steps, rubbing her hands through her hair.
"Hi, Papa," she greeted him as she walked into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows and nodded before he returned his attention to his book. Sakura scrubbed her hands clean in the sink. The smell of the fruity soap filled the room. She rubbed her hands on a kitchen towel before she took a seat next to Madara at the round table.
"How'd it go?" questioned Madara. He slipped a bookmark between the pages before he shut the cover.
"Pretty good. He seems nice," Sakura said right away. Madara pulled his glasses down, hooking them into the front of his shirt.
"Are you going to see him again?" He tried to keep his tone casual, but Sakura wasn't fooled. Tongue between her teeth, she grinned at him.
"Aw, Papa. Are you gonna feel lonely if I get a boyfriend again?" she teased.
Madara looked disgusted by the very idea. "No. I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet again," he retorted. Sakura snickered. And a smile touched Madara's lips as he got out of his seat.
"I'm going to have some coffee before bed. You want some?" he asked.
"I wanna try the one Uncle Izuna brought last time," Sakura called after him before she slumped over the table.
The kitchen always smelled like coffee. Madara probably drank more coffee than he did regular water. It was no wonder that his sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up. Coffee in the morning. Decaf at night- even though that didn't seem to help. The kettle let out a whistle when it was ready. Madara poured the water through the filter into her favorite cup. The white one with red flowers.
"How was the shop today?" inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the fragrant steam.
"A little quiet. I need to get more childhood dreams. I'm starting to run low," she mused. She reached over to pick up his book. It was old. The green cover was peeling at the edges.
"What's this?" she wondered.
"I'm looking at tracing magic in ancient artifacts. Kind of dry," he huffed.
"You writing a new research paper?"
"Yeah."
"Why don't you pick a topic you like more, Papa?" wondered Sakura.
Madara rolled his eyes. "It's a request from someone I owe a favor to," he responded.
Sakura wrinkled her nose.
Madara sighed. "Exactly."
They chatted for a little while longer before Sakura began to yawn. She rubbed her wrist across her eyes. "I have to head to school in the morning to pick up some materials. I'm gonna go to bed," she announced, getting out of her chair. She gathered both their empty cups to place in the sink.
"Night," Madara greeted her.
"Good night, Papa," she replied. Sakura gathered her purse and her phone. She squeezed Madara's shoulder as she walked past.
As the weeks went by, Sakura found herself quite busy. Whenever she wasn't at the shop, she was busy working on her thesis. Sometimes Naruto and Ino wheedled her into taking a break. They got cheap pizza and sat eating on the curb. Or sometimes her cousins barged in with Vietnamese food and soda, completely ignoring how Madara glared at them as they stormed inside.
"I didn't invite you," he scolded.
"Nice to see you too, Uncle," Sasuke called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs up to Sakura's room.
Sakura met Gaara a few more times. He really was very sweet. He always seemed embarrassed whenever he caught himself talking too much about his work. But it was nice hearing someone so excited about something. They went to see a movie. Another time, they just walked in the park, getting lost among the winding paths and trees.
"I really want to focus on finishing my thesis right now. I hope you don't feel like I'm leading you on or anything," she had explained once.
"That's alright. I don't mind waiting," Gaara replied. And then he walked into a tree branch, making Sakura burst into giggles.
November turned to December. And suddenly it started to snow all over the city. As the white flakes covered the asphalt, Sakura browsed the library inside their house. It seemed impossible that such a huge room existed in the building. Of course it was. But Madara's magic played around with the dimensions of the room to make it happen. It was an odd combination of light and heat that Sakura still struggled to pull off after all her years of practice.
Sakura pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. The silver wire frames had once been Madara's, which, like many of his possessions, she had claimed as her own.
"What?" she called, leaning back on the ladder to peer at him. With a flick of his finger, Madara pulled the ladder down the wall of shelves, closer to him.
"I asked have you seen Shisui?" And he punctuated the end of the sentence with a sigh.
"Yesterday. At the shop. Why?"
"His parents say they haven't seen him since yesterday. Can't get in touch with him either."
"Maybe his phone's just dead, Papa," Sakura suggested. She pulled another book off the shelf, leafing through it.
Whenever he wasn't working at the dream shop, Shisui was usually doing magical research of his own. In particular, he was interested in how the position of celestial bodies affected spells. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear with his telescope and his spectrometer for a night or two.
"That's what I thought at first. But it's been a full day and no one's seen him," answered Madara. He leaned against the rungs, his hands under his chin.
In front of him was a shelf full of manuals on torture and human anatomy. Those were from some of his darker days as a younger man. His eyes flickered over to Sakura before he slowly waved his hands. The spines sparkled before they blurred. The letters of the titles swirled around, rearranging themselves into different words. Then he shot Sakura another look.
She was still looking through the shelf higher up. She hadn't noticed anything.
"Either way, his parents are worried. Keep an eye out for him," Madara insisted.
Sakura considered this. "Have you asked Itachi? He always knows what Shisui's up to."
Madara shook his head. "Says he has no idea either."
There was a pause. Sakura pushed her glasses up again, lips twisting to one side. She pointed to a few books, which slid out of place from the shelves. They hovered in the air around her.
"I'll ask my friends and see if they've seen him around," she finally agreed. Madara smiled up at her.
"Great."
That same night, only much later, Sakura's shadow fell across the threshold of Madara's room. She knocked on the open door. Which was a little silly, given that he could see her. But it was an old habit.
"Papa?"
"Hm?"
"I've got a headache again."
Madara pulled his glasses off. Sighing, he put the glasses, along with his pen in the book to mark his place.
"It's because you overdo it," he scolded, even as he reached his hand out for her.
Pressing his fingertips to her temples, Madara channeled energy through the thin skin.
"Take a deep breath."
He pulled the magic, which had twisted and bunched up in all the wrong ways.
"Inhale."
He tugged. The threads of energy shattered. Like a jar of marbles overturned. The little shining pieces scattering in every direction. Gold fluttered from her temples, fluttering off in little glittering pieces.
Sakura's eyes opened in time to catch the list glimmers of magic dissolving into the air.
"Am I channeling wrong? I keep getting them a lot lately," she wondered. Rubbing the heel of her hand against her temple.
"No. It's a common issue, actually. When you walk dreams, the residue magic follows you. It's just buildup. Regular clarification like this is all you need," Madara assured her. Sakura frowned a little harder.
"Have they found Shisui yet?"
Madara leaned his elbow on his headboard. He heaved a sigh. "Not yet."
"It's not like him to just run off. I hope he's alright," Sakura mused, frowning too. Sakura looked up when she felt Madara pat her knee.
"Things'll be fine. They always are," he said.
Sakura searched his eyes for a moment. And then a smile pulled at her mouth. She nodded, sighing. "You're right."
A week later, and Shisui was still missing. Along with Itachi, who had never missed a day of work before.
"Still no word?" asked Ino.
"Nope. Nothing," Sakura replied.
"Have they called the police?" Naruto wondered, leaning his elbow on the front counter of the dream shop.
"Yeah. They even went to his apartment. Nothing. Passport's still there. None of his stuff is missing. It's just... poof," Sakura listed, shaking her head a little.
It really wasn't like her cousins to disappear without a word. The police claimed that they were searching, but both Sakura and Madara agreed that it obviously wasn't enough.
"I'm sorry, Sakura. That sucks," Naruto said. Leaning against her, he put his arm around her shoulder. Ino took Sakura's hand and patted it a few times.
"Thanks," was all she could think to say as her friends did their best to comfort her.
And while Sakura really was grateful, she felt worse for Sasuke. He hadn't slept in days as he took to the streets in search of his older brother. She tried to go with him whenever she had time. And she called him on the nights she couldn't, just to ask how things had gone.
Sakura even considered planting a dream in Sasuke's room. Just to force him to get some rest. But she knew he wouldn't like that. And he was so sharp that he might even spot it before it had a chance to take hold of him.
"You doing okay?" Ino questioned.
Sakura blinked. She smiled. "More than everyone else, I think. I'm trying to be positive."
Naruto's forehead wrinkled. "Aw, Sakura, I love you and your big heart," he sighed, squeezing her a little tighter. Ino wrapped her arms around Sakura's other side.
"Things will work out," Ino reassured her.
That night, Sakura walked into her house to silence. It was New Year's Eve. She had promised to be home early so they could watch the countdown together.
"Papa? You didn't pick up so I just walked home," she called as she stepped out of her boots. She leaned a hand against the wall for balance. Paused. Waited for Madara's voice drifting down the stairs to her.
Nothing.
"Papa?" she tried again.
Something about the quiet made her uneasy. She walked up the stairs, looking for a glimpse of silvery wings. There was usually a spirit around that she could talk to. But even the usual hum of magic that buzzed around the kitchen had gone silent.
The back of her neck itched. Sakura scratched at it as she wandered through the house. Nothing in the living room. Or in the laundry room.
She climbed the stairs. Madara's study was empty. So was the second floor bathroom, where she sometimes found him sitting with a cup of coffee and chatting with the water spirits.
The third floor was silent too. But something about the air felt off as she climbed the last steps. And there was an odd smell.
The floorboards creaked under her feet. She peered into her room first. Her bed was still unmade. One of her drawers sat open with her laptop resting on top. The string lights that framed her window winked at her. Everything was just as she had left it that morning.
Part of her must have known what she would find. She found herself dragging her feet. Blinking too much as she forced herself to cross the hall. To knock on the door that was ajar. Pretending that the huge pool of dark red wasn't spreading across the white wood.
She could hear herself screaming. She couldn't make herself stop. Tears filling and blurring her vision. She screamed and screamed until she could feel her ears ringing with the sound.
"Hey! Sakura!"
Her eyes flew open. She could see a dark shape hovering over her. She flinched away until she recognized the glasses hanging from the front of his shirt.
"It's just a bad dream," Madara said. He snapped his fingers. An orb of soft light flickered into existence. Just enough for her to see that this was her bedroom. She could also make out his look of exhaustion as he sat on the edge of her bed.
"You okay?"
Sakura shook her head. She sniffed. Rubbed her face. Her palms came away wet with tears. Madara clicked his tongue. She felt him lean over her to pluck a couple tissues from the box on her nightstand. He pushed them into her hands. She sat there staring at them.
"You haven't had a nightmare like that in a while. Must've shook you up pretty bad," he sighed. And then his hand landed on top of her head. He patted her hair a few times. Still a little clumsy, even after all these years.
Sakura didn't say anything. She stared down at her hands.
Madara patted her head again before he asked, "Wanna talk about it?"
Sakura shook her head again.
He sighed. "Okay. Let me go make some pancakes. It's almost time to get up anyway," he decided. He squeezed her shoulder before he got up. She could hear his bare feet shuffling against the floor as he walked. And then thumped their way down the steps.
Sakura sat in a daze for another minute. It took her a few tries to get her mind to focus on anything. She blew her nose, wadded the tissues up into a ball, and threw them in the trash. Out of habit, she disconnected her phone from the charger and lifted the screen up to eye level.
Friday, Nov 3.
A notification popped up on the screen to remind her that she had a date tonight.
Sakura dropped her phone. It bounced once on the mattress. She cast another wary look around her bedroom. And then she was scrambling off her bed, stumbling into Madara's room. She yanked the bottom drawer open. Underneath a worn journal sat his bag of scrying bones. Sakura poured them out onto the rug right there.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Madara's voice came from the doorway.
Sakura tried to push her tangled hair out of her face. She gave a hiss of frustration before she yanked it into a bunch on the side of her head and held it in place. She took a long breath before she could gather her frazzled thoughts enough to channel magic into the dry bones.
The black fissures in the bones began to glow. Voices hissed out through the brittle marrow.
Beware of the dreams that linger,they whispered again.
Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. She channeled a little more magic.
The whispers chanted the phrase over and over again: Beware of the dreams that linger.
And as the voices began to fade, they left her with one more warning.
Do not give your heart away.
"You know, you could've just asked to borrow them."
Sakura's head whipped around. Madara stood there, arms folded over his chest. He tilted his head a little as he looked her over.
"Go wash your face," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom.
Sakura turned back to the bones. They sat limp and cold on the rug. She scratched the back of her neck, heaving a sigh.
"Okay," she answered before she scooped the bones up into her hand and dumped them back in the pouch.
"And this is where it all starts again."