Sakura poked her head around the nearest doorway, her face lighting up as she laid eyes on the steaming indoor onsen. She stepped through with a happy sigh, giving the rest of the room a cursory glance.
It was unexpectedly spacious. There was the predictable presence of the Uchiha clan symbol printed high along the walls; the floor was a solid hardwood, patterning beyond the entryway's tatami mats. A soft yellow light fell in through the large latticed windows on the far wall, fully opaque. Muted, the afternoon sun caught in the swirls of steam that rose invitingly from the simmering waters, and Sakura gladly accepted, her fingers tugging impatiently at her fitted qipao's clasps.
To have a proper bath. The very idea had her bouncing with anticipation as she tugged open her collar, pondering the wonders of Wood Style. Though she was tempted to think her way into the rabbit hole of debating how exactly plumbing and other building intricacies could be made from such an ability, Sakura shook those thoughts away, rolling her eyes. She was going to be grateful instead that she was about to enjoy a stress-free soak.
Sakura glanced down at her dark clothing with the additional gratefulness that she'd had this set of clothes stuffed in the bowels of her pack. Though wearing Madara's robe had had a certain charm to it, she much preferred the sight of it on him instead. She was much more comfortable in her usual fitted outfit anyway, even wrinkled as this one was.
She took in a generous breath of humid air as she peeled the freed qipao from her front, shrugging it off her shoulders. Upon feeling a tingle of goosebumps rushing over her skin, Sakura swerved in alarm — only to see that the open doorway behind her was empty.
Sakura glared at the space in the hallway, poised with a readied fist, keeping her qipao pressed to her chest. She waited a long moment, her expression twitching with consternation. Her instincts were never wrong… but there was no one there. The little house was just as quiet and vacant as before, creaking gently in the sighing wind from outside. It was obvious that Madara had not yet returned, and Sakura realised her raised fist, lowering it. Even if it was someone else calling on her, it'd be unlikely she'd want to attack them, now that she was in the general good graces of everyone who was still alive and undreaming.
Sakura repeated that observation to herself, rubbing at her shoulders and shaking her head, trying to ease her natural defensive instincts. She wasn't sure why she felt so uneasy, like she was being watched, when there was no one there. Was it that he was hiding from her view?
Sakura scoffed, turning from the doorway. Madara was not one to play games. He was the type to announce his presence, all arrogance and intensity. Once he came back, she would certainly know.
This decided, Sakura shrugged, letting her qipao fall away from her shoulders and back. While pulling away her shorts, she hopped over and slid the door shut, feeling a little less on edge with it closed. She untied her kunai holster and wrappings from her thigh, freeing her chest-bindings; she folded all her clothes neatly, spotting a small end table against the wall and striding over to it. She set the pile of her belongings on its surface, thinking again of the hot waters nearby with her eagerness renewed.
Again, and this time Sakura shot a hand out to her side where her instincts insisted there was a threat.
She yelped when her jabbing hand hit a hard chest. Clapping an arm over her breasts, Sakura brandished her fist at the invisible man standing in the corner. "What the hell?! Who are you and what are you doing in here!" She pressed her legs together, her knuckles white as she prepared to knock the pervert into next week.
No response. Sakura scowled, feeling an odd deflation of her anger as the situation didn't escalate. "I felt that you're there," she growled, "I know there's someone in the corner. And I'm going to kill you — pervert!" Chakra steamed green in her fist, matching the blazing colour of her eyes as she stared the invisible man down. Which of her teammates could possibly conceal themselves like this? Once she figured it out, she'd never forgive them for it — she was trying to bathe! Of all the times to attempt a rescue, especially after she had told them to lay low and leave her and Madara be… Sakura's scowl deepened. It couldn't just be henge. If any of her team had been able to go invisible at will, they'd have used it before, when all of them had been on the run from Madara for countless months.
As the silence dragged on, the many ways she'd beat this intruder up long decided, Sakura blinked in consternation, her hand surging forward and pushing against the same chest. She gripped what she knew was the fabric of a shirt or robe, seizing them and pulling closer with a hiss. "Talk. I've caught you. Did you think you could get away with watching me undress? I'll break every bone in your body, and I don't care who you are or what excuse you come up with, I won't heal them afterwards."
Glaring up into where she thought his face must be, Sakura startled slightly as she felt a large hand grip her wrist where she'd grabbed the front of his robes. He pulled her off of him easily with an exasperated sigh regardless of how she struggled; he released her and leaned back against the wall, silent as ever.
Sakura's face went blank. She recognised the feel of that calloused hand; she knew his smoky, woodsy scent, and his reaction was too arrogantly calm for him to be anyone else. Hugging both of her arms over her chest, Sakura drew back, blinking at the invisible man. "Oh," she realised aloud, her skin warming, "...you're a Limbo clone."
Miffed at the mixed relief she felt, Sakura cleared her throat after her unanswered statement, her anger replaced by irritation that he wouldn't speak. "How long have you been watching me?" she asked anyway, disturbed by the thought that Madara's Limbo clone might have been shadowing her for longer than she'd known.
When he remained cooly unresponsive, Sakura let out a huff, turning away from him with a dismissive wave. "Whatever." She strode away towards the onsen, her skin tingling with warning as his ever-intense stare lingered upon her back.
All too aware of her nakedness in front of her unexpected observer, Sakura hurried over to the onsen, continuing to clutch at her nude figure until she stepped into the water. As soon as the hot water rushed over her skin, she sighed with pleasure, sinking into the heat and tilting her head back against the edge of the onsen. Refreshed and relaxed, she closed her eyes.
A twinge of guilt persisted through the wonderful comfort of the bath. Many nights, Sakura had commiserated with her teammates about how much they all missed hot water and the safe comfort of bathhouses. Such things were a general impossibility in war, and they'd sworn not to take these luxuries for granted again. It had been sheer luck that Obito had found that underground spring near Yugakure; but even then, the constant paranoia of being hunted down and killed remained, ruining the pleasure of a warm soak.
Sakura bit her lip, shoving the guilt away. Real peace would happen. She would make sure it would.
She held a breath of steam in her lungs, savouring it. Pleasant tingles danced down her fingers, her limbs, down to her toes. Sakura sank a little deeper. She could float in here forever; the way the water eased her aches and slowed her heartbeat, swirling the very shapes of her thoughts with warm haziness and comfort… it was bliss, second only to —
The slightest exhale somewhere behind her reminded her that she was not alone. It was ever so subtle, but it broke the spell, and she glanced backwards, steam dancing off the damp planes of her shoulders as she sat up in the water.
"If you're here to keep an eye on me, then at least join me," Sakura said boldly, her eyes dragging over to the occupied corner where Madara's Limbo clone shadowed the wall.
Sakura looked quickly back to the water, her ears burning.
Embarrassment stung at her cheeks in the continuous silence that felt heavier than before. What had she been thinking? Sakura clenched her thighs together, angry with herself and the brazen invitation she'd let slip. The heat from the onsen must have made her feel braver than usual.
The longer the clone was silent and unmoving, the more her self-scolding turned into insecurity. Sakura folded her arms and crossed her legs, hunching into herself, her gaze drowning in the water as she hung her head. Maybe Madara saw her as burdensome, clingy – annoying, like Sasuke and perhaps Obito had seen her for so long.
Sakura sank back into the waters, ashamed. She seemed to have that effect on attractive men. Perhaps she herself was unattractive, like she'd feared sometimes before. After all, she didn't have Ino or Tsunade's exaggerated curves, nor their charms with men; Sakura had a tendency to be too brusque.
She scowled at the glimmering water. She'd never had any interest in playing hard-to-get. It just wasn't her style. She decided she couldn't blame herself for her lack of tact, seeing as she had never bothered practising; her interest had always been fixated on Sasuke, who rarely gave her even the time of day even during their months on the run with the team.
Simmering with her sour introspections, Sakura only just noticed how the water level rose somewhat. She sat up with a start, looking around with alarm. She held her breath in unconscious anticipation as the waters of the onsen swirled in a ripple before calming once more; the house creaked quietly, and the light over the waters flickered as the vague shape of a tree branch waved beyond the opaque windows.
Sakura looked around at the empty onsen with all the heat she felt pooling in her cheeks. Her previous worriment vanished as she recognised that Madara's Limbo clone must have accepted her invitation, but where…?
Her gaze followed the patterns of the steam that rose from the hot bathwater. She observed how the wafting clouds moved differently around something just out of reach to her right, refracting off an invisible edge.
Sakura stood slowly, clamping her arms over her chest as she followed the hints of dancing mists, wading through the rippling hot water.
Standing before where steam repelled from empty air, she reached forward with a tentative hand. Her fingers found the curve of a broad shoulder, and Sakura stepped closer, a buried sense of wonder unearthing. Curiously, Sakura brought her palm across the slope of an invisible collarbone, over the muscles of his neck, her touch tracing over warm skin she could not see. Her hand appeared to be stroking along nothingness while she stood before the onsen's edge, and she blinked oddly at the sight. Though she knew her hand rested along Madara's steaming shoulder, the feel of him all too real beneath her palm, it was strange to see a void where his body was, her hand appearing to be suspended in midair.
Releasing a shaky sigh, Sakura let go of her chest and reached up with both hands. A small smile wrested her lips as her fingers wove through the wild mane she knew she would find. It was easier to let herself explore when Madara was invisible and silent; all the intimidation of his personality and presence was dampened in this strange version of him that she could only feel rather than see.
Sakura brought her hands back through thick hair to skim along the edge of the Limbo clone's jaw, smirking to herself. It felt like she was cheating some kind of game as she brought her curious touch wherever she wanted seemingly without boundary or consequence.
Her hand slid up along Madara's high cheekbone until her fingertips caught upon the strange broken-off piece of bone above his left eye. She traced its vaguely rectangular shape with a frown, remembering when it had been in its full form, a curved piece covering the eye in his forehead like a bizarre hitai-ate.
Sakura shivered bodily upon feeling his exhale warm her face. She had drawn too close — but the more this clone continued to tolerate her, the more she wanted to satisfy her curiosity. Her interest in knowing him was growing, her questions and wonderings multiplying. She'd wanted to see deeper beyond Madara's cold exterior before; he was so wintry and distant most of the time, and now she was afforded an ideal opportunity to close the gap.
Sakura let her eyes fall closed, shifting closer in the hot water between them. His larger frame surrounded her almost entirely as she stood in his lap. Visualising him more easily now, she slid her gentle touch back down along his face. She traced the slant of his brow, memorising along the shape of his slim nose, brushing across the sides of his mouth; his smoky scent intoxicated her, magnetising her ever closer.
Her touch did not go unanswered, and she nearly opened her eyes upon feeling his hands splay over the curves of her hips, his thumbs pressing into the dimples on either side of her waist. Sakura's brows twitched as she recognised Madara taking control, and she tilted forward in gentle defiance, holding his face and tasting his smug mouth.
Sakura gasped against his lips as he pulled her abruptly up through the water with a hum. She clamped her knees around his sides; he set her on his lap, smirking against her startled kiss. She could feel every ounce of tension between their bodies now that nearly every part of him was pressed up against her, and the heat fogging her mind was blinding her enough that she broke free from his lips in alarm. His wild hair fell around her like a water-drenched cloak, clinging to her shoulders; she ducked her face into his neck, hiding herself in him, curling her arms around his back through the water and breathing hard.
Sakura wrestled with her inner self, regaining control. Damn him. Was it that he knew how to tease out her feelings, or was it that she simply couldn't resist him in any form?
She pressed her nose into Madara's clone's water-slick neck, her heart pounding steadily against her ribcage, trying to break loose. He attracted her enough that she felt like this, even when he was invisible and silent?
Suddenly concerned for herself, Sakura gave herself a harsh self-examination, her eyes wrenched shut in a frustrated expression. I'm not here for attraction. She repeated the words to herself several times over, feeling increasingly vexed.
I will end this war for us, her previous declaration to her team rippled through her heart, and Sakura curled her arms more tightly around Madara's wet shoulders with a shaky exhale, tilting her face against his neck as the warm steam of the bath continued to rise around them. She recalled her confidence, willing it to comfort her now, her stubborn determinations from before resounding in her head. Hate cannot end this war. We have tried that way for long enough.
Sakura clenched her legs around his waist, the heat of their shared tension thrumming between their bodies even through the high temperature of the water. She sighed, unable to shun the thought anymore. It had been shadowing her every waking thought: she had feelings for Madara beyond physical desire, rushing through her veins like something much more potent than adrenaline. She knew she was beyond denying it; she cared about him, much more than she should.
Sakura shook her head at the very idea, a formidable panic rushing through her. His clone tensed as she clenched around him.
She tried to justify her feelings to herself. Surely it was okay. It had to be. Surely, she could tolerate such an annoyance to deal with for the sake of ending the war.
Her unsteady breaths made puffs of steam that billowed across the steaming planes of his clone's skin; he looked down at where she was curled around him, breathing shallowly against his shoulder in her moment of internal panic.
Sakura shook slightly, trying to push away the fear of falling in love where it was constricting her chest and throat with icy fingers. She wasn't too far gone, yet. It was okay, she reassured herself; it was inevitable that she'd feel for Madara at least a little with the amount of intimacy they'd had, and an infatuation was something she could shake off once this was all over. If she had managed to shed her previously obsessive interest in Sasuke, she could certainly find a way to shrug off how she now felt for Madara.
Letting out a huff into the pleasant smoky forest-fire smells of his wet skin, Sakura felt somewhat better. She knew to her bones that he would see through her instantly if she had ever faked her interest. She supposed that having at least a crush on him was the price for taking this persuasion route to ending the war.
She hummed as his lips brushed her ear, his hot breath making her shiver with desire. Crush was too weak a word, but so was infatuation. Sakura shook the thought away, disturbed by it.
Madara will never be persuaded, no matter how interested you think he is in you, or vice-versa.
Sakura shoved Sasuke's words from her head and pressed a decisive kiss into Madara's steaming skin. She had committed to this plan. She wouldn't play chicken with it now.
He gripped her sides impatiently, adjusting her on his lap, having waited long enough for her to decide what she was doing; she caught his arms, braced with indecision. Her mind still clouded with her worries, Sakura lifted her head to search Madara's eyes before blinking at the blank air that surrounded her.
Thrown off with the odd sensation of falling even while secured in his concealed grip, she cupped his face, frowning at him. His words from earlier in the day echoed in her mind. We have not yet discussed the details of this… reunion.
Did Madara see her as nothing but a plaything? Sakura couldn't help the thought, and her heart constricted with hurt at the very idea. She pushed back a little further from the Limbo clone's hold. For all she knew, he did see her as something just to entertain him while he enjoyed his otherwise lonely rule over the dreaming world. She knew now that he didn't see her as any kind of equal, which he had made clear; he had also told her in no uncertain terms how she would never convince him out of supporting the Infinite Tsukuyomi.
Sakura sat up straighter, growing pale. A plaything; a pawn. Is that what she had relegated herself to? Madara's confident declaration that she'd never persuade him made her feel intimidated now, and she shivered as she sank deeper into oppressive stress.
A warm hand slid up Sakura's back through the water, gentler than before. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and she relaxed slightly, effectively soothed. No… she wasn't a pawn nor plaything. Sakura caught the hand and drew it around to her front, pressing a grateful kiss into invisible knuckles. She was more than that, considering Madara's unexpected forgiveness from earlier. He had let her see memories from his past in the gift of a genjutsu he'd cast her into, even harmless as those particular recollections were. Beyond that, there was that warmth she continued to chase where it lived somewhere behind his frightening eyes, keeping her grounded in the reality that Madara was not the complete monster the rest of the world believed him to be.
Sakura relaxed entirely against his tense lap, finally finding herself on solid ground in her heart. She hadn't made a mistake in choosing to join Madara. There was still hope for a future that lacked death… that lacked the Infinite Tsukuyomi as well.
Lifting her head, Sakura melted back into his clone's arms, her hands pressing against his slick chest as she looked into his invisible face. An intense expression coloured her features as she regarded him in full seriousness. "Please," she began, "if you are able to speak… I would love to know you better." She swallowed her desires in favour of words, though her legs slid invitingly along his beneath the water. "I want to know you better than anyone."
Because I have to, if I ever want to convince you out of this war. She pressed a hopeful kiss into his invisible cheek, trying to recall the charms that she'd seen other women using and only succeeding in making herself redden further.
She felt Madara's clone shift slightly, and she held on more tightly, hopeful that he was about to finally speak up.
The answer Sakura got did not come from the warm chest she was pressed against, but from across the room, rumbling with amusement. "Are you attempting to seduce my Limbo clone for information?"
"Madara!" Sakura yelped as all the slick warmth surrounding her disappeared with the clone's abrupt dismissal, and she fell back down into the water in a jumble of blushing limbs. She righted herself quickly, swerving to face the doorway with a glare. "I was only trying to —"
The words died in her mouth as she beheld Madara standing beside the onsen, his formerly white robes spattered with blood.
"No," she whispered, and Madara raised a brow at her, freeing his robe and shrugging it from his shoulders. "No? Too bad. I will be joining you momentarily; I am in need of a soak."
Sakura stared at him in silence, bringing her hands to her mouth to hide her expression of horror. Any thoughts she might have had about the attractiveness of his body as he undressed faded in the sight of all the blood. Red soaked Madara's hands all the way up to his elbows, leaving stains across white fabric as he shook off the sleeves of the robe, tossing it aside near Sakura's neatly folded clothes. There were more blood smears across his front, soaking in the dark fabric of his pants, bloodying the tatami mat floor where he shrugged those aside as well.
Sakura sank deeper into the water, her heart broken.
Madara stepped into the water near her, sinking with a pleased exhale into the heat; silver-white hair drifted around his shoulders as the water rose to his shoulders. The water was quickly tainted pink as blood sloughed off his skin. He tilted his head back against the edge of the onsen, relaxing somewhat, the steam rising in curled patterns as it danced off his pale skin. He cracked one eye open as he lifted his red hands from the water, rubbing them together and cleansing them of blood.
Madara's gaze slid over to Sakura, who stared at him in complete silence, a perfectly still statue standing in the tainted water. His eyes narrowed, and she parted her lips, her voice barely escaping her bloodless lips. "Did you kill them?"
He blinked at her before snorting and looking away. "I was hunting animals, not shinobi."
"Oh."
Sliding a little deeper into the onsen's soothing warmth, Madara relaxed further, closing both eyes; he rested his arms behind his head against the bath's edge. Dampened sun cast him in an ochre glow, reflecting off his mane as it drifted around his shoulders and sank into the steaming waters.
Sakura let herself down from her horror in minute increments. Her blood had been running icy-cold, and she let the heat of the onsen soothe her as her spiked adrenaline slowly released. She pressed her hands over her slowly pounding heart.
Madara had not killed her teammates. He had only caught and prepared wild game for meals. She blinked rapidly at the blood smears across his lean arms, the pink tinge in the water already fading. That blood, she told herself, was animal blood, not human blood – he'd been preparing what he'd caught, cleaning carcasses, handling skins and meat. None of it meant, this time, that he had just returned from injuring someone she loved.
Sakura sank into the water with a willowy sigh, her shoulders slumping. She swallowed the bitter knowledge that it was not an impossibility that Madara might return to her one day, covered in the life's blood of her teammates.
Drawing herself back up with forced confidence, Sakura waded over to where Madara reclined in the water, one arm hugging her chest. She pulled her determination out of her trembling ribcage, squeezing out a stubborn resilience to stick to her plan. She would know Madara so well that she would persuade him, no matter how incapable of that he believed her to be. She couldn't waste any more time.
As soon as she moved within reach, both of Madara's dangerous eyes flew open, the sheer weight of his stare causing her to pause. She could feel his automatic mistrust, his defensiveness wafting off him like steam, and she felt an unexpected pang of understanding run through her. How many years of his life had every approach from another been with hostile intent? Remembering how Black Zetsu as well as Obito turned against Madara in the end, Sakura winced. Though they'd had their reasons, their betrayals had certainly given Madara all the more reason to be suspicious of any ally.
Sakura approached with more caution this time, holding Madara's stare. Though she ignored the warning in his expression, she remained careful where before she had been bold with his clone, quietly supposing that the clone had nothing to lose whereas his original did not. She waded closer, standing between Madara's legs and taking a deep breath.
He eyed her, but made no move to push her out of his space. Encouraged, Sakura reached to the side and picked up a small towel that was folded near the onsen. Clearing her throat and fighting back her shyness, she stood another breath closer to him, dipping the towel in the hot water and folding it; she scrubbed it along the blood that stained his arm first, wiping it away.
"I can wash myself." Madara's growl rippled the water. Sakura yanked the towel away from his reaching hand with a huff. "Let me," she insisted, bringing it under the water and caressing along his sides, cleansing away more of the blood. He scowled at her, and she persisted, her touch both massaging and thorough.
Madara's frown softened somewhat; he grumbled, relenting as he resumed relaxing against the edge, his hands running through the unruly hair at the back of his head. "I came here to bathe in peace," he complained as Sakura drew the towel across his chest. Working on his other shoulder, Sakura's knowledgeable touch found a knot in his tense muscles. Setting the towel aside, Sakura massaged it with strong hands. She bit on her lip in a knowing smirk as Madara's grumble deepened, his eyes falling briefly shut.
Who knew her cursory lessons in the medical benefits of massage years ago would become useful in a war? Sakura couldn't help her smile as she eased away that particular knot, her circling, firm touch moving to either side of Madara's neck, soothing the lean muscles beneath his water-damp skin. He made a deep pleased hum that had her shivering, and Sakura quickly retracted her touch, pressing her legs together under the water and scowling at herself.
Madara opened his eyes, glancing at Sakura curiously, and she shyly dipped her gaze downwards; she found that this only deepened her attraction-fogged embarrassment, her attention grazing across his nude submerged lap. Sakura shot her eyes back to Madara's face, her cheeks rosy red.
He gave her a lazy smirk, his eyes dipping to her chest. Sakura clamped her arms back over her breasts too late, wide eyes both indignant and heated.
"Um," she tried, desperate to change the subject from their non-verbal one. She couldn't let things slip so easily back into intimate territory. She had questions to ask and countless things to learn about him. She had a goal to pursue; not the man himself, and Sakura looked away from Madara, her eyes snagging on the strange shape in his left pectoral.
Effectively distracted, she stared at it with more interest, perplexed. She had noticed it before, of course, but she'd always been too caught up in the moment to give it her attention, and Sakura shifted one arm away from her covered chest to poke its cheek under the water. "Does this feel like much to you?" she asked, tracing her finger along its vague face.
Madara took the towel from the bath's edge, laying it along his forehead with a sigh. "Not really." He closed his eyes once more, the warm water from the towel dripping down his features in glinting rivulets. Sakura watched him with a soft, troubled expression, her stare touching along his forehead where the closed Rinne-Sharingan was hidden beneath the towel. Her gaze traced across his features more studiously now that she could fully see him, and she felt a multitude of questions rising to her tongue. She lifted a hand and twirled a lock of wet silver hair in her fingers, remembering how it had been Uchiha-obsidian for most of his life until he had become the Ten Tails' jinchūriki.
She frowned at it, realising that in truth, she hardly knew Madara at all. The little she had already learned was from rumours and old textbook pages; legends, biased retellings of Konoha's history, every version different than the last. Everything she knew came from the inconsistently described major events told from skewed perspectives, and hardly any details about Madara himself, his own motivations and past given in vague passing reasons that were oversimplified and ever-changing. Konoha's history books labelled him a villain and vanquished foe, though a powerful one; academy lessons rarely brought him up, focusing near-entirely on his co-founder, the First Hokage. What little she'd been taught of him throughout her life was that he was to be hated; to be feared.
Sakura exhaled quietly, reaching up and drawing her hand along Madara's cheek, a stitch between her brows as she pondered him. Beyond Konoha's old teachings, war had taught her some things about him since his reappearance; but nothing beyond estimated statistics, tertiary details, obvious observations. Hearsay; impressions; assumptions.
Intimidation shadowed the back of her mind, mixed with excitement. She had much to learn and much to ask.
Sakura cleared her throat, causing Madara to open his eyes, and she startled slightly when he spoke. "What is it, woman." He regarded her with suspicion. "You're staring again."
Where to begin? Sakura searched Madara's face uncertainly before resting her hands on his chest, letting the affection she felt give her a little push of bravery to begin. "I mentioned earlier," she said, shifting slightly in the hot water surrounding them both, "I want to know you better." She slid her fingers beneath the water's surface, trailing them along Madara's chest. "How did the face get here? I've wondered."
Madara frowned at her, shaking his head. "There is no reason you need to know."
Sakura's exploring thumb brushed over a thick scar that knotted over his heart beside the strange embedded face, and she traced it thoughtfully, her brows furrowed. "What about this scar? It looks like it's been here a long time," she went on, rubbing it worriedly, "This wound would have been lethal. No one gets stabbed here and lives. Who did this to you? How did you survive it? Did your clan have a good healer?"
Madara let out a long, weary sigh as Sakura continued to question him. "What about your Wood Style too? That comes with this face modification, right? The First Hokage's regenerative cells?" She hummed to herself as she brought her gentle hands back up Madara's shoulders, her genuine curiosity glimmering bright in her eyes as she searched his face eagerly. "How many Wood Style techniques do you know? You've only had it since wartime, right? Was it difficult to learn the techniques without help, or did it come to you naturally? Is this the first proper building you've created with it? And, does that face on your chest actually have a function in itself, or just exist to give you Wood Style? What else does it do?"
Madara brought an arm over his eyes with a deep grumble. Sakura continued to needle him for answers, tugging at him earnestly, oblivious to his annoyance as her questions spilled unleashed. "Not to mention all the stuff that being the Ten-Tails' jinchūriki does for you. You know, Naruto struggled with the Nine-Tailed Fox for a long time before he managed to bond with him. Does the Ten-Tails bother you, or is it just present in your subconscious, fully controlled? Is it even possible to have a coherent conversation with it? Is it strange to be host to such a giant monster? And the Rinne-Sharingan —"
"What did I tell you about too much talking," Madara cut in, glaring at Sakura, and she scowled, retracting her hands from him and setting them on her hips. "I can't show you my questions with touch. I do have to voice them. Can't you answer some, at least?"
"It is not necessary that you know me well," Madara replied flatly, tossing the towel aside and levelling his sharp gaze with Sakura's. "Now… soak with me in silence, or leave me be."
"But I want to know," she protested softly. He ignored her, shutting his eyes decisively and sinking deeper into the steamy water. The longer she was quiet in her frustration, the more he relaxed, enjoying her lack of questions.
Sakura's chagrin was tangible in the tapping of her fingers along her hips. This was no good. Madara had zero intention of opening up to her. If he refused to answer even basic questions about himself and his life, then she had no chance of completing her goal to end the war through persuasion. She would continue to know Madara only physically, never on any deeper level, and Sakura narrowed her fierce, determined gaze upon him.
His past words show me warmed her throat as she made her decision. If intimacy was the one way he would allow her closer, then she would take it to the next level.
"Fine," she amended to Madara's silence. She waded closer, the heated waters rippling around her chest as she gripped his thighs and steadied herself.
Madara's eyes drew open half-lidded; he watched Sakura partly with mistrust, partly with interest. She held his eyes with an intensely burning look as she sunk a little deeper into the water, delighting in the heat sparking his gaze the lower she went. Her palms slid up his legs towards the apex of his body; her pink hair floated across the water's surface in damp curls.
Sakura watched Madara's pupils dilate with one hundred percent interest this time as she reached up and tied her wet hair back, snapping her pink locks out of her face into a ponytail high above the back of her neck.
"What are you doing?" he growled as Sakura took in another deep breath, her knees dipping down past his and scraping against the floor of the onsen, her lips just above the water. Her heart thumped desperately as she glanced back towards his submerged lap, which had become her central view; she willed herself to be brave once more.
Lifting her head, Sakura swallowed her nervousness, aiming a half-grin at Madara; she relished the fiery desire barely leashed behind his stare as she chose to echo his past words. "You know damn well."
She ducked her head under the water, Madara inhaling sharply as she took as much of him into her mouth as she could without any more preamble. He held on to the edges of the onsen as she explored, bobbing up and down once, tasting and careful, yet eager; his grip cracked the wood as he restrained himself. "Sakura —"
He would not stop her. Sakura gripped him firmly, enjoying how his entire body rippled from even her slightest touches; she kept a breath high up in her nose so she didn't breathe in the hot water. Madara let out a shivering groan when she managed to take in more of his length, and she choked down further in response, his gasp of pleasure rewarding her efforts. Her throat tightened around his thick intrusion that throbbed hotter than the simmering onsen.
Sakura steadied herself, holding on to his lean thighs that surrounded her head, delighted by Madara's noises and eager to draw out more. Even though doing this was dauntingly unfamiliar, and though it kind of hurt, his size even bigger than she remembered — to make this dangerously powerful man elicit such sounds as he rippled with pleasure made her feel powerful herself. Sakura was enjoying this more than she thought she would, and she gave him another victorious stroke before she broke free, diving back up above the water's surface for air.
She startled as large hands caught her face, Madara glaring down at her with a vehemence that surprised her as he prevented her from going back underwater. His wet fingers gripped her chin, tilting her gaze up to meet his flashing Rinnegan eyes. "This is not required just to convince me to answer your inane questions." He pulled her higher out of the water, his rumbling voice reverberating through her. "Do not drown yourself."
Sakura blinked up at Madara a moment before giggling. He was taken aback as she shook with her light laughter, and she brought her hands along his face with a rush of affection, regarding him with warmth. "I did that because I wanted to, idiot," she told him sweetly, and she pressed a kiss into his cheek before sinking back, a devious spark in her eyes. "Do you really want me to stop?..."
Madara's expression was thunderous. He opened his mouth to retort, but his brows twitched as Sakura's hands drew along his knees under the water. His attention snagged on the devilish look she wore; intense interest burned undeniably in his stare.
"Hn." Sakura descended, and Madara had but a moment to scowl at her smugness before her lips found him again beneath the water. He tilted his head back, a groan rumbling from his chest. His fingers tangled through her hair as she choked down until he hit the back of her throat, causing him to hiss and buck against her angrily. Sakura hummed a note of surprise before adapting, gripping him with both hands, bobbing eagerly and chasing more of his responsive pleasured sounds.
Unrestrained this time, Madara moved with her, his grip around her head harsh and pushing. Sakura kept up with Madara easily, making an energetic rhythm as she bobbed at a zealous and unrelenting pace. His grip was punishing, and so was her wicked mouth – she loved the way he breathed harder, enjoyed the power play between their pushing and pulling, her body aching with hot pokes of desire with every dive down his length that she took.
He shoved against her hard enough that her lips hit his base, and she held on tightly, eyes shut to the water; she swirled her tongue around him instead of backing down, and he let out a husky curse that he quickly cut off. Though he released her, she tried that again, determined to push Madara to an immutable peak. She slid gently back down, tasting him as she went; his fingers dragged through her hair over her scalp, digging in, and she shivered with his rumbling sounds, lost with his pleasure.
Sakura coughed in surprise as Madara's hands shifted suddenly to her shoulders — he ripped her out of the water, turning her bodily and pinning her against the hard edge of the onsen. Without even a second to breathe, he claimed her lips ferociously, his wet hair falling around their faces and clinging to her steaming skin. Sakura curled her arms around Madara's neck, gladly giving in. She was the one breathing harder when he tugged her calves up to hook around his lower back; she tilted her face, welcoming his deepening kiss and arching her body against his. Their breaths tangled with their tongues as he slid easily into her with a deep, shuddering groan.
Their joined bodies made the water first ripple, then crash, waves splashing over the sides of the onsen and soaking the little room as he took her at a pace that shattered the wood of the bath's edge. Sakura matched the angry fervour of Madara's merciless mouth, her hands slipping up and down his back beneath his wildly shifting mane, his grunts and groans matching her cries of pleasure.
"I'm taking you to bed," Madara hissed into Sakura's ear, and she canted her hips against his eagerly, her thighs clenching around his sides as he pulled her up with him out of the water. Their drenched bodies dripped on the mat as he carried her towards the hall. "But it's still light out," she protested lightly, tilting her forehead against his, her smile curving against his mouth; he growled I don't care into her lips as he took her past the Uchiha print on the wall and into the quiet dark of the house, leaving wet footsteps in their wake.
Madara fell back on the futon, his body parting from Sakura's as she descended to curl along his side, both of them breathing hard. He cast an arm to the side and pulled a sheet over them both, closing his eyes.
Sakura pressed into his side, humming as she softened into his surrounding warmth. She drew her hand affectionately along the moonlit curve of his shoulder, her thumb tracing its toned shape; he rumbled a low warning note. "If you continue to insist upon keeping me awake… we will not sleep at all." His hand around her waist squeezed, his calloused thumb digging into the dip of her hip.
Madara's breaths were steady once more, and Sakura could feel how relaxed he was beside her, not an ounce of tension in either of their tangled bodies. She brought her gentle hand over his chest, her past questions swirling through the pleasant fatigue, and she tested a theory, her voice soft and slightly husky from exertion. "So… how did this face get here?"
Madara exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the futon; silver-white locks fell across his pale features, his eyes closing wearily. "I — curated a wound with cells from Hashirama over time," he answered groggily, Sakura running her thumb curiously along the face's cheek. "It is somewhat complicated." He yawned, stretching an arm up through the air and cracking his knuckles. "Orochimaru and his servant Kabuto had a hand in ensuring I had it post-resurrection."
"To get the Rinnegan?" Sakura questioned softly. Madara hummed in agreement. "And Wood Style."
"And sage chakra." Sakura poked the face before running her fingertip along the knotted scar just beside it, almost hidden in the seam by its strange cheek. "The scar?"
"Hashirama," he growled, sliding a hand through his wild hair with a deep exhale, "Valley of the End."
Sakura frowned, understanding. "He… killed you."
"Yes and no." Madara drew a hand through Sakura's hair, and she wrapped herself along his side once more, humming as sleep tugged at her eyes. She drifted into dreams where she pressed into his skin, his answers embedded in her mind, and he held her against him with a sated sigh, both of them sinking into a deep sleep in their hazy post-bliss.
Sakura's second awakening was alone, and she sat up in a cloud of mussed pink hair, squinting at the golden sunlight falling through the window. Disoriented, she felt a twinge of panic. It was this late in the morning? But she had to get to work. Tsunade would kill her for being late.
She got to her feet in a rush, pulling on her clothes. She was hopping on one leg, pulling on her shorts, when a shadow of black and white passed the open doorway. She froze just as he did, a dark metallic eye sliding over to her.
Sakura's mind snapped fully awake upon meeting Madara's amused gaze.
He shrugged his dark robes more securely over his shoulders and continued onwards, silver-white hair swishing at his back. Sakura pulled her shorts all the way on and stared after where he'd gone in a kind of daze.
She looked away, rubbing at her warm cheeks, unable to stop herself from smiling. His murmured answers from late in the night came to her in spirals like the steam from the onsen.
Success. She had gotten to know him better, though just a very little. The same questions he had refused to answer, he had easily replied to when laying with her in post-pleasure bliss. The student part of her gleefully shelved the interesting new knowledge she'd earned, categorising it carefully so she might study and ponder it later.
Sakura zipped up her qipao with a worried expression. She'd had that success, but it wasn't enough. She needed to know so much more about Madara to have a chance at real persuasion. The thought that this really was like an extended seduction mission with her ulterior intentions to end the war had her scowling at herself.
As she padded barefoot across the matted bedroom and into the hallway, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to think of a good plan that didn't take far too long. Her brows knotted at the knowledge that those who dreamed in the Infinite Tsukuyomi didn't have the lifetime of time she would need to get fully know Madara at this rate. They had perhaps another year or two before everyone died from chakra depletion.
She looked over to Madara. He knelt beside a crackling fire, turning a rack of meat through the flames. Firelight licked along his silver hair and pale skin, his dark robes plain but for the Uchiha symbol high on his back. Sakura was reminded briefly that he hadn't always been so pale; she imagined him with that wild mane in black, his skin tanned like hers.
She blinked at Madara as the idea came to her.
Yes. Joy, pure and ecstatic, rose up through Sakura's throat. Yes. That would work.
She stepped towards Madara eagerly before halting herself. No, he wouldn't simply agree to that outright, especially now that they were no longer immersed in each others' arms; a semi-normalcy had made its return.
Sakura flushed pink at the thought of last night, leaning against the wall and watching him thoughtfully. Well. She would need to find a way to elevate the previous day's events —- her face bloomed into a rosy shade of red at the very idea —- and then make her demand. That was when Madara would be the least inhibited, the most relaxed, more open to her than at any other time. He could be reasonably persuaded then.
Even through the redness staining her face and stinging her ears, Sakura gripped her fists with her resolve, proud of her idea. She had genuine hope that she would be able to achieve her wish without help from friends or prayers, armed with what she knew now.