Sakura stood at the precipice of the ghost town, heart thumping in her chest as if to remind her how she was alive and the village before her was not.
She tried to focus upon the map in her head and not the haunting nature of the shadow-drenched, cobwebbed streets. The map of Yugakure hadn't taken her long to memorise, back when she'd been trapped in Obito's dimension, and she had left it behind, trusting her sharp memory to recall it in perfect detail as she did now. Mentally, she followed its lines and hummed to herself, taking a left turn and following the crimson-lit street a ways before following an alley towards a different block of buildings.
A pair of cats dashed across the alley before Sakura; distant birds chattered. Humming cicadas filled the ambient quiet in a tide of keening. Dragonflies flitted high above the sunlit rooftops in the dawn skies, and Sakura paused at the side of the empty street, feeling a gratefulness for the persistence of nature filling the unpeopled void of the village.
Sakura rubbed at her eyes groggily, additionally grateful to take a quick break where she leaned against a cool alley wall. Taking in her surroundings more carefully was helping ease her paranoia. The majority of her energy had been exhausted in a terse, quick-footed night of running through dark forests to find her way here.
And, to her surprise, she'd made it, entirely unaccosted. She had escaped when she had been grimly uncertain that she'd even manage to.
Sakura nodded to herself. She'd gotten much better at stealth, covering her tracks, and escaping in general. If only her talents hadn't had to be used against her own team.
Former team? Sakura bit back a clench of guilt, refocusing on her surroundings as she took a turn down a leaf-littered street full of cobwebbed corners. She narrowed her eyes at the faceless storefronts. Yes… it was around here. She could remember being here before.
Careful wandering and scrutiny of each shop brought her before the one at the end of the row, heavy curtains draped behind the dusty glass beside the front door. Sakura set a hand on the handle, pushing through easily; it was unlocked, as if the store was open and expecting customers.
She covered her mouth as she walked into the darkness. She tugged a candle from her bag that she'd taken from one of her team's recent supply runs and set it alight, examining the shop's vaguely lit surroundings and venturing inwards. The door fell shut behind her in a cloud of dust.
Avoiding the wafting dust, Sakura kept a hand over her nose and mouth, being continually careful not to disturb any of the dust-shrouded objects or display tables on her way to the back counter. She relaxed once she knelt before the hidden glass cabinet she remembered so well from before.
Sakura swept a careful hand through the cabinet's interior. Her thoughtful fingers felt for anything more subtle than she'd thought to look for the last time she was here.
She let out a victorious hiss when her exploration ruffled the edges of a small stack of papers. Coughing from the dust, Sakura waved at the air in front of her nose while tugging her prize out from the cabinet, squinting down at the pages. They were clearly related to the poisons she had found here before, and surprisingly much less dusty than everything else in the shop, as if they had been read recently.
Sakura got to her feet and set the papers down on the counter, spreading them out. Setting her candle to the side of the counter, she leaned over the fine lines of writing, the first sweep of her gaze telling her these were the creator's personal notes on their poisons, the other pages related to mixtures not present in the cabinet anymore. She swallowed nervously before shuffling to the one that discussed the one she'd thrown at Madara, months ago.
At first, Sakura could only find the same information she already knew: the poison was chakra-infused, making it more potent. It was topical, experimental, dangerous, and had been labelled do not use. She was further frustrated that some lines had been crossed out, little notes scribbled, as if its creator had been amidst adjusting the recipe. It didn't even have a name; only experimental, no. 9 written at the top of the relevant page.
Sakura memorised every line out of habit. It wasn't a particularly specific recipe; she suspected that was intentional, only its owner knowing how to make it correctly, but she didn't care about recreating it. She was here for different information.
Her finger drew down the wrinkled page to the bottom, where a final line of notes relevant to her poison was legible.
Failure: only an amplifier.
Sakura blinked, reading on, Doesn't work without some kind of spark to begin with. Only forty percent success rate. Only lasts an hour. Need to get fresher ingredients. Longer chakra-infusion? Red stain undesirable; need recipe adjustment for safe ingestion for next batch attempt.
The page ended there, and Sakura flipped it over; the back was blank. She returned her attention to the other notes, hoping that she'd perhaps missed other information about No. 9, but found nothing else of value to her. The other pages were full of scrawlings about other poisons meant for death or severe incapacitation; generally typical, though she could tell just from a sweep of the ingredient lists how potent they were. Their creator was clearly a master at their craft, or close to one.
Though Sakura thought she recognised one recipe, she set the pages of other poisons aside with disinterest, struggling to fully process all that she had just learned.
She sat back on the stool beside the counter, ignoring the pouffe of dust that resulted and staring blankly at the spread of pages. The word repeated again, and she mouthed it, tasting it like it was a new word. Amplification.
Sakura laughed through her stupor, pushing a hand through her hair and leaning back against the dusty old wooden counter. For all the things she thought she might read here, that one might be the worst.
What it meant had redness blotching Sakura's cheeks, much like that poison had done before. She pressed a hand over her thumping heart with a thoughtful frown. She did have to admit to herself that she had noticed Madara's attractiveness as far back as when he'd first emerged in the war in Edo-Tensei form. He was an Uchiha, after all, one of the few she had seen other than Sasuke, and she hadn't been able to help observing that he was in the very least a striking sight. However, the observation was a useless one that she'd registered and ignored; she had nearly forgotten it in the strife-marked months after his emergence in the war. It had been a shock when the poison had forced Sakura to reckon with her forgotten attraction, staring directly into Madara's smirking face.
The heat spread deeper as she remembered that the poison had affected Madara as well. Amplification had worked both ways.
Sakura covered her face in her hands, rubbing at her cheeks like she could wipe away her blush. Don't be flattered. Don't be flattered. She scolded herself, though the warmth unfurled in her chest anyway. He found me attractive too.
"Damn it." Sakura exhaled angrily into her fingers. "Why couldn't it just tell me everything was fake?" Shifting her palms from her cheeks to her eyes, she sighed with dejection. She had wanted those notes to tell her that she had a chance to redeem her heart again; if not for Sasuke, then for herself.
Pain prodded Sakura's pulse with searing jabs, the oncoming epiphanies only hurting more with their progressions. She lifted her head, her brows drawn tightly together as she stared at the wall. She hadn't expected this, and she felt entirely thrown off. She needed to think.
Sakura got to her feet, taking in a deep breath. Adjusting her dark qipao self-consciously, she looked intently at her surroundings like the abandoned little shop had more answers for her to discover. Narrowing her eyes, she decided that she would investigate it further, in case it did. Who was it that had brewed that abomination and turned her world upside down? She would take the time to find out, satisfying her curiosity until she came up with a new plan for how to deal with her future.
Sakura reached out and touched a wind-chime hanging from the ceiling; dust spiralled down past her fingers, a tinkling high note playing as the fluted metal pieces brushed together. Displays around her held various curiosities she had generally seen before in shops like this; trinkets and small paintings or carved wooden art meant to please tourists and children, glittering beneath their glass displays. Clay masks, ornamental figurines, jewellery – she had seen it before, and it meant little now. There was skill in the carvings, thought in the displays' symmetry, but no open displays of poisons, nor any obvious identifiers for clans along walls or labels.
Sakura turned from the main displays and glanced around the back room suspiciously. There had to be more. She had found shinobi weapons back here among the cabinet-locked specialty concoctions, after all. If this was the birthplace of the poison that had brought about her downfall, then there was more than was meeting her eye.
Sakura swept a heavy red curtain aside, searching behind the counter area for more clues. Still, the repetitive drudgery of a normal shop; more neatly-cluttered counters, some preserved insects in jars, abandoned cups of tea, a clay pot, a colourful floor rug, various signs on the walls… nothing she found remarkable or particularly of interest, though she did spot a skinny stairwell that the curtain had masked.
Straightening her back with a soft hmph of victory, Sakura made her way up the stairs, her skilled feet silent on the old wooden steps. She coughed up another lungful of dust as she emerged onto a second-floor landing.
She immediately understood this place as a small residence. The shop's owner must have lived up here.
Sakura kept her feet light and her senses sharp, knowing that any home of a current or former shinobi could have traps. Though it was rather unlikely that such an innocuous flat in a generally peaceful village would be armed against intruders with anything sophisticated, she wasn't willing to take any chances at triggering a noisy explosion or risking injury when she was still regenerating and saving up her chakra.
Finding that the only reaction to her presence was clouds of dust, Sakura walked carefully over to a nearby desk that was stacked neatly with piles of papers, bills, and scrolls. Sheets with numbers and budgets laid beneath the bills, a quill and ink nearby that had run dry. Sakura glanced over them with disinterest, noting the neat script and illegible signature that was followed on most pages by a vaguely familiar symbol. She couldn't quite recall where she had seen it before.
Its papers appeared to be mostly bills and ledger notes, the usual transactions of a small business. Shrugging it off, she turned from the desk and looked over the rest of the unremarkable residence, biting her lip with disappointment. She had perhaps expected a setup for poisonmaking, a whimsical home filled with oddities and religious symbols, the obvious marks of an artist or apothecary's abode: but the place was calm in its neat symmetry, not an object out of place, organised and well laid-out.
Sakura sat back against the desk's edge with a sigh. Investigating the shop had not distracted her as well as she'd hoped it would, and the earlier question looped back to her. What does it all mean now?
She closed her eyes.
I know what I cannot do. She clasped her hands over her lap. I cannot go back. I will not go back to being imprisoned. They will have to make do until we talk it through, eventually.
Sakura's head inclined as the words she'd read on No. 9's page called back to her, and she tensed with the shock of it. Think, don't panic, Sakura, she told herself, how can I use this information?
"How can I use it?" she echoed herself, pushing her hands through her hair in frustration. "You idiot. You idiot…"
She tried to think of something logical or some sort of absolute positive about it, but kept getting stuck on the words she'd read, doesn't work without some kind of spark to begin with.
A spark? Sakura stared into her hands, her fingers flexing as she thought. A spark. A bond? Did she and Madara have some kind of bond?
She scoffed at herself. Certainly not before the poison entered their lives. Before that, all they had in common was wanting each other dead; that, and attraction, at least subconsciously. She rubbed at her cheeks and stared down at the floor as the idea came to her.
Colour flooded beneath her palms, warming the whole of her, and Sakura forced herself to face the frightening idea, the concept that she wanted to laugh off in the least out of modesty. It terrified her just as it drew her in, like a moth to a flame. Perhaps there is a way to end this war without dying.
Sakura sat up straighter, gripping her fists as the resolve came to her with an iron tension. It was the most idiotic, insane, stupid idea she'd ever had, and she had never been more determined to make it work.
She got to her feet, and the wood floor creaked loudly. Sakura blinked rapidly at her sandals while she had the sudden realisation that her new decision meant actually facing Madara again.
She swallowed, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck. Face him again? Sakura brushed the hair from her face, combing it with her fingers. Plucking at her clothes and straightening herself, she tried to fathom what such an encounter would even be like.
Recognising her self-conscious fidgeting for what it is, Sakura halted herself with a soft curse, embarrassed with herself. This idea wasn't only foolish, but practically suicidal. Madara would mock her, he would kill her. She had no doubt, and yet…
Sakura frowned, turning from the desk and looking over to the curtained windows where dawn light tried to filter through corners and edges. She knew now, armed with the word amplification, that their last encounter had not been a fabrication nor a lie. She had to do this: for the sake of the end of the war. Even if it killed her, she had to try.
Sakura strode across the residence with renewed confidence. She rustled through the little nearby kitchenette, finding some dried crackers and pulling them out. Food in hand, she fell back on the single-sized futon nearby, willing her heart to slow its beating. First, she had to figure out exactly what she would say. She had to choose her words carefully. She would not make a fool of herself this time.
Sakura patted the futon she laid on, finding it firm yet soft. She would also make sure to meditate in this peaceful space, easing her stress and regenerating some chakra. This was far more comfortable than her bedroll back in the singed tent her team had been using, and she looked forward to a solid nap after making sure the surrounding area was clear and quiet.
Sakura nodded to herself. She would quell the edge of her hunger with these stale old crackers, figure out everything down to the exact wordings, doing everything she'd thought of before setting out on her journey late tonight to find Madara and enact her new plan.
She stretched out on the dusty sheets, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. She shivered as a draft blew through the dark flat, and she scowled. After a pause, she glanced over at her pack beside her, debating.
"Absolutely not," Sakura told herself even as she pulled at its zipper.
Settling beneath the warmth of the black and white robe that she spread over herself like a blanket, Sakura relaxed slightly. I may as well use it for something, she thought, ignoring the self-judgements that coiled up in her chest. She inhaled slowly, enjoying the pleasant smoky scents that still lingered on the slightly singed fabric. She returned to her pondering, staving off the tugging of sleep at the corners of her eyes.
Sakura knew without a doubt that Madara guarded the Divine Tree's trunk, a large stretch of forest away from here in the neighbouring Shimogakure. It was the epicenter of the war; it was its pinnacle, where it had all begun and where it would end. It only made sense that he would guard the heart of his Infinite Tsukuyomi.
Madara's cold eyes burned through Sakura's head. She could already imagine his expression of incredulity, twisting with disgust upon every iteration of words she formed in her head. Shame prickled her like he was mocking her in person already, his voice calling through her head. Stupid, foolish girl.
Sakura flinched, biting down into a rice cracker with a scowl. She could also hear the voices of her teammates in the back of her head, furious with her for her decision she knew they would see as the ultimate betrayal. Even approaching Madara was traitorous.
Obito's expression full of hurt rippled through her mind, and she closed her eyes with a terrible wave of guilt. She nosed her blanket with a scowl. They would just have to forgive her when she made her unlikely plan work and ended the war without bloodshed.
Goosebumps shivered down Sakura's body, and she sat up with a start, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she recognised the warning thrum of her instincts.
Sakura wasted no time, throwing herself to her feet — she hurried as silently as she could manage to the nearest wall, slipping under and hiding herself behind a curtain that hung in a thick drape of red over part of the wall. Her back brushed up against shelves full of scattered bits of wood and tools that clicked and clanked, and she held back a hiss of frustration, hoping the slight noise wouldn't be noticed by the intruder she knew had just entered the shop downstairs. Belatedly, she recognized that her "blanket" of a robe was clutched to her chest, and she threw it around her shoulders with a silent curse, knowing she couldn't just toss such an obvious identifier out into the intruder's view should they make their way upstairs.
Sakura bit down on her teeth in vicious frustration. Obito had already caught up to her.
She boiled with anger. No. She would not allow him nor any of her teammates to sway her from the plan she had decided to pursue. Sakura held her breath, staying perfectly silent, knowing it was of utmost importance that Obito not discover her now. Even the concept of being thrown back into months of cubic hell made her rage prickle beneath her skin. She would never again allow herself to be anyone's prisoner.
Sakura's heart beat hard enough that she was terrified he would hear it. She knew Obito was ascending the stairs, but on silent feet, not a sound to be heard in the dark little shop nor its second-floor residence but the relentless hammering of her heartbeats.
She willed him to go away. Please, she wanted to say. Please leave and forget I ever existed. Stop caring about what happens to me. Let me go.
Sakura kept her breath tightly restrained through the dizziness that threatened the edges of her vision. Damn it. I have to breathe soon. She wanted to adjust where she was pressed back against shelves that were suspiciously loose where they were built into the wall; this might lead to a hidden workshop, and she sizzled with the urge to investigate.
Obito's dark presence in the room drew nearer, Sakura increasingly terrified that her thundering pulse would give her away.
Her skin paled to white as she sensed him within her reach. She shut her eyes as the curtain was swept aside in a flourish, avoiding being thrown into his genjutsu.
"I won't go with you," Sakura resolutely declared. "If you dare to send me through Kamui now, I'll destroy the rest of your dimension." A beat of silence, and she kept her eyes shut, shaking slightly with her anger and her resolve, reaching out and setting a hand on his warm chest. "I'm sorry I abandoned you earlier, but… surely you understand." She bit her lip. "I have to do this, Obito. I've made my decision, and nothing you say is going to stop me now." She gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly. "Please don't make me have to fight you."
Sakura's hand shook atop his chest as he made a low, rumbling laugh; her eyes snapped open, drawing up to a pair of piercing metallic eyes.
Madara tilted his head slightly. "What decision would that be?"