A/N: Time to spill some tea...and then boil another pot. It's an endless buffet up in here.
I very much enjoyed writing this one.
Sandalwood and cinnamon permeated the hall. A lifetime of rich and earthen smoke steeped into the walls that was remarkable without being overpowering. It would fade like a hint of spice carried with the wind if she stayed for long, until she smelled almost nothing. All the while sinking deeper into her clothing, and leaving traces of its perfume wherever she went. It reminded her a little of the hospital, but without the foul undertones of necrosis, iron, and bitter herbs.
The subtle sounds of life she heard before entering the home ceased to exist now. As if time stood still in observance of her arrival. She felt eyes on her, though she could not see them. Once or twice, she swore she heard a whisper. Attendants of some kind, if she had to guess. All watching and listening without interfering.
Her escort came to an end long past the dragon mural and at the open doorway of a large sitting room. Light glowed behind the thin paper of the shoji doors opposite from where she stood. Bathing the squares within their thin wood frames red and pale gold from the hanging lanterns of the porch, and the standing lanterns inside, like a wall of stationary flame. The rest of the walls were solid, and sparsely decorated. Two shallow alcoves faced one another on either side of a short table near the shoji doors. Silk scrolls hung in their centers, one painted with the climbing branch of a red maple tree, and the other a branch weighed down by ripe persimmons.
"Thank you, Sasuke. You may go." His voice rumbled from within, just out of view.
She looked to him and mirrored the polite nod, and he waited. Watching the few seconds it took her to mentally prepare herself enough to move of her own free will.
Taking a deep breath, her eyes fell to the floor, and she disappeared past the door.
The room opened up completely. A splash of orange, red, and black drew her gaze to the left, where she discovered a third alcove next to her. One with an ikebana at its base, facing the flaming shoji wall. Red feathery strands of kochia, a sunset of chrysanthemum, and a jagged black branch from an unknown plant reached artfully into the air from a gray, wide-mouthed basin. There was no time to investigate the painted scroll hanging above, as her eyes flicked immediately to the man standing near it in dark charcoal robes.
Sasuke spared one last glance as he stepped away, fingers pulling the sliding door shut with him. The blazing room appeared much warmer than it was in the autumn evening. Her plain green yukata and it's pale obi contrasted harshly with the light, like a drop of jade sinking into the heart of a forge.
She listened to his fading footsteps trace back to the entrance. The only sound she could hear, aside from that steady bubbling of water that was nowhere to be seen. It was louder now, coming from some place beyond the shoji doors. A soothing balance to the spirit of fire that enveloped her.
Madara's attention lifted from the ikebana up to her eyes. Using the time it took Sasuke to exit to study her face. It was still pale, but there was a healthy pink tint to her cheeks this time. She followed his lead, keeping her mouth shut and observing him with the same calm curiosity. She wasn't as peaceful as she appeared on the surface, though. The eyes watching him were just a little too wide. Alert and focused as they searched for threats. Reminiscent of their initial meeting, but without the element of shock.
He wasn't as peaceful either, but their concerns were of different origins.
When he heard the main doors shut, he turned toward the shoji screen and wandered slowly to the short table. His hands clasped loosely behind him, resting between the crimson obi that tied around his waist, and the long mane of black hair.
"I have not spoken with a single person in this village who has spared me their opinion of your presence here. It's only been two days, but I am starting to lose my patience." The comment was laced with annoyance, yet it didn't seem directed at her. An interesting way to break the ice.
Her first inclination was to ask what those opinions were, but something stopped her. The words swallowed back down, and she looked at the table. A lush red blanket draped over it and spilled across the tatami mats. Hiding everything but the edges of two black cushions peeking from beneath the mound of fluff. Above, a thin flat surface supported a square wooden box littered with hand-carved game pieces.
"Some of them want you dead...but I'm sure that doesn't surprise you." He added coolly.
She stared at the game board, silent as ever. Unaware of the faint wrinkle of despair beginning to show above her eyes. No, it didn't surprise her, but that didn't mean it was easy to hear.
"Do you play Shogi?" A single dark eye glanced back in her direction, over his shoulder. The look of distracted concern faltered, and she lifted her eyes.
"Shogi…?" She asked softly, as if doubting her own ears. What an unexpected transition. "I am…familiar…but I haven't played in some time. It's more of a shinobi's game."
"Then, right now you are a shinobi."
Sakura blinked, lips parting as she looked from him to the board he stood next to, glowing orange in the light. From her position, it appeared there was already a game in progress. A few captured pieces sat on the table below the box. She was barely considered an amateur, but she knew what the initial setup was supposed to look like.
That single eye watched her expectantly, and despite how unlikely it seemed, she knew he was serious. He wanted her to play. Or, at least humor him.
Creeping closer to the table, she stopped just before her bare feet touched the edge of the blanket. Trying to focus on the small wooden, irregular pentagons, all etched with black kanji. Pawns, lances, knights… It would take her a minute to comprehend the state of this battlefield.
"I don't understand…" She murmured skeptically. "You want me to play a game with you? You've said yourself you've never seen a Senju outside of an interrogation cell in your village, and this–"
"Yes." His answer sliced through the air, and within it, a command.
She stilled, sensing some of that annoyance whipping sharply in her direction.
"Was there something else you expected?" The question baited her as his eyes snapped up to her pink lashes, but she was wise enough to leave it be.
The lines and kanji on the board blurred into senseless, dull shapes as she lost focus. A chill tickled the nape of her neck, and once more she was plunged into the uncertainty she felt when she found him approaching with an army of ravaged men at his back. She didn't know what to say. Part of her feared nothing would earn her any favors.
Fortunately, he didn't care to wait.
"Do you know what this one is?" His hand swooped down between them after another beat, pointing to a piece, and the edge receded from his voice. A long gray sleeve sank over clean knuckles, absent of the gloves she remembered from the other day.
"That…is a gold general." She forced the words tentatively, resigned to playing along for now.
This was, after all, a man she did not know. Not just any man, but the one who spearheaded one of the most renowned and formidable clans in all of their known countries. The only true rival to the Senju. It was time to find the line between being forthright and tactful, and balance it as if her life depended on it. Perhaps it did…
"And what is the purpose of a gold general?" He watched her as she watched the board, hair shielding his eyes from the smoldering light as he positioned himself opposite of where she stood.
"They all share the same purpose…don't they? To protect the king?"
"Yes…and he is trapped in a fork. Going in this direction, he is caught by the rook. In that direction, he risks the bishop. So what is your next move?"
The blurring kanji narrowed into distinct titles again, and she stared critically at their positions. Familiarizing herself with the basics as she considered all of their possible moves, and the most likely counters to follow. A couple of them were promoted, she recognized, which added more complexity. Within a few minutes of cycling through strategies, she shook her head.
"I don't know. I haven't played many strategy games, and this scenario is complicated. Every option jeopardizes something important." She admitted, wondering what kind of test this was meant to be.
"Then guess. If you're wrong, you will learn from the mistake. Surrendering is lazy." Lazy, and unacceptable. Of course, he knew she wasn't the one who chose this match. The odds were against even an experienced opponent, and he didn't expect her to find a way out. All he wanted was to see what she would do next, and hear her rationale.
Her right hand reached down as she hovered over the board. As she leaned closer, the faint whiff of onion followed.
"Did I interrupt your dinner?" He asked, watching her fingers settle curiously on a piece far away from the main conflict, on the other side of the board. It wavered in the air, and then descended on one of his pieces several tiles away. She removed it from the board, and it fell with a soft tick to the table with the rest of the captured ones.
"Not quite… We were just chopping vegetables." She murmured absently, paying more attention to the game than what seemed like a frivolous but polite question.
Madara looked from his discarded piece to the one now taking its place with a slight frown. Based on that move, she'd been sincere when she claimed to have little experience. That was alright. In the end, Shogi was far from his main interest.
"That is an illegal move. A silver general can't cross that many tiles."
"It disrupts the fork and protects my king, doesn't it?" A naive question on the surface, but its tone suggested she knew more than she let on. At least enough to comprehend that it would be an instant forfeiture.
"Don't be obtuse. You must follow the rules. Try again." His brow pinched, and he stared down at the pieces. Waiting for her to correct the board.
"Do you always follow the rules of warfare?" She asked, and this time it was genuine. Strange, but he would humor her since she humored him.
"Always."
"Then why were the women in my camp murdered?" The words spilled before she could stop them. Mellow in their delivery, despite their combustive quality. Swan-diving her off that tenuous line she was attempting to balance. Driven by the unremitting need for an explanation she would never get…because there would never be one that was good enough. Never a reason to excuse what was done that night. She knew this, but it seemed she wasn't ready to let sleeping dogs lie.
With his chin tilted down toward the board, his eyes glanced up in silence. Considering her though the shadow cast by his hair. It would have surprised him to find her staring right back, if not for the recent memory of her refusal to bow. As it was then, her expression was blank, but taught. Wary of the reaction he would give, yet resolved to endure it.
He appreciated the consistency.
One bold move like that was interesting. Two was no coincidence. Another brushstroke of color to a painting that had much to reveal.
"Because the game of life will never be as simple as Shogi." He said carefully, voice lowering. Opposite of the volatile whip of retaliation she braced for. She detected a trace of sympathy in his response, and it was almost disarming…but she couldn't let herself trust it. She knew better than that. Nonetheless, it was gentler than she expected from him.
"Their lives were not a game. They were in nobody's way…" She whispered as the tension slowly thawed from her face. Eased by his apparent tolerance…or illusion of it. If only she knew how long it would last.
Swallowing, she looked down at the board. The pieces remained where she left them, and her hands rested behind her back like his had done when she entered the room. Outside, the bubbling water splashed. Disturbed either by a koi or a frog, and she waded into its soothing ambience. Letting the discussion die before it could truly begin, if only because she assumed it could lead nowhere productive or safe.
"Your women were not killed by my order." He chose to clarify, knowing it would change neither the past nor the pain she now carried. The sympathy she picked up on was honest, but he would not offer an apology. It was not his to give…but he would also not force it to be given. Regardless of his personal judgment.
"My brother leads in my absence, and I trust him to make his own decisions."
Sakura closed her eyes, grasping desperately for the tightrope before she let her emotions teeter her over the edge a second time. The retort she wanted to give would be too brazen even for her to gamble. Anything spiteful or malicious she wanted to say would be nothing compared to what he could give in return, if he wanted. She didn't need to know him personally to sense that.
"Do you agree with this one?" She asked quietly, once she could reign in the antipathy. "Do you support his decision to kill the defenseless? Most of the women I saw that night wouldn't even qualify as pawns–" Her hand emerged to jab down at the board, and the moment her fingertip touched the Pawn closest to her, it pulverized in a quick flash of pale blue light. Blanching both of their faces in a brief but harsh flicker akin to lightning.
Fingers clamping shut in a first, she recoiled to her chest in surprise.
Anger was an emotion that did not like being denied, it seemed. A recurring theme.
A theme he understood intimately. Almost as much as pain.
Dark eyes sinking to the board, they followed the barest wisp of smoke that faded in its ascension. A swirl of fine dust drifted over the remaining pieces, and a small spider web of fine cracks spread out from the center of the tile the small pentagon had been sitting on.
Another interesting brushstroke.
"How precise." He murmured, reaching down to feel the damage with his own finger. Conveniently failing to answer her original question, though this abrupt distraction had little to do with it. If he did disagree with Izuna's actions, that was their own business. The only reason he was even speaking with her was because the most important person in his life, his last living brother, brought her to their village himself. That alone imparted far more leeway from him than she would ever realize.
She stared warily at the hairline cracks, unsettled both by how sudden and violent it occurred. The effect was minimal to everything but the individual piece, and yet nothing of it remained outside of a few splinters and misty crumbs.
The web disappeared under another Pawn with a soft click, placed by his hand. She glanced to his arms as they crossed over his chest, and then up into his eyes.
"Do it again."
"I… I can't. I don't know how." She muttered quickly, taking a step away from the table and hiding her fist behind her back once more.
"You know." He insisted calmly, watching her retreat. Either she didn't trust herself, or she was being modest out of fear. "It may not have been a deliberate intent…but you know how."
"I was a medic. I know how to use my chakra, yes…but I have no offensive training. Small defensive barriers and first aid were what I specialized in, along with herbal remedies. I don't know what that was."
"Are a medic." He corrected, watching her closely. "What you are used to is irrelevant. When a natural talent reveals itself, you hone it. That level of precision is no accident. It could be of use in medical ninjutsu, if you knew how to use it."
"That role ended when I watched my people burn and bleed to death around me. I have no one left to heal." The heat spread through her chest as her anger peaked. In reflex, her fingers clenched tightly against her lower back. As if to smother the threat of another spark before it could manifest. This time, she could not bring herself to look at him. Too afraid of what she might see, and how she might react.
The tightrope blurred incoherently like the plucked string of a biwa.
His eyes narrowed as she inched away. Still far from the alcove behind her, but putting enough space between her and the table that it was well out of reach. The dark gray border of the scroll framed her as she replaced the view of persimmons.
"Then what role do you expect to fill?" He asked, a ring of steel returning to his voice. Admittedly curious to know if she even considered a possible future for herself, or if she was still reeling from the tragedy she survived through. Whatever answer she gave was unlikely to sway him, though. If she refused to contribute in any meaningful way, then his people had no use for her. A distraction that did nothing but waste resources was not something he would entertain.
"You mean…you haven't asked your brother yet?" With a soft snort, she fixed a troubled stare on the clean tatami.
"Right now I am asking you." He countered without answering, expression turning to stone.
She said nothing. While he waited with shrinking restraint, the front door reopened and shut in the distance. Stillness interrupting with an audible stride that was easy to follow as it paced through the house. Opposite the shadowy step of attendants who snooped without disturbing them.
With it came the subtle changes on her face. The resentment pinching her brow faded, along with her busy thoughts. Her attention absorbed singularly into the confident footsteps that wandered closer, opening one door after another in search of something. Clanging metal and creaking leather jarred rhythmically.
His eyes never left her. Not until the shuffling armor stopped a final time, and the cream panel to the sitting room parted open.
"There you are. He'll need to replace…" Izuna froze, heavy red armor draped in his arms as he stood in the doorway. With his arrival came the iron and earth, breaking through the pleasant fog of incense. A trailing silence implied he was unaware of her summoning.
She did not turn to face him.
Chin lifting, her gaze rose to the Shogi board and no higher. The clenching fists at her back slipped sluggishly into a cross over her hips. It was a defensive shift in body language. Moving slowly in the vain hope of going unseen, though she was acutely aware there was no place to hide.
The eyes across from her traveled down in scrutiny. From her chest, and the breaths that came just a little too quickly, down the left hand hidden beneath her right in a tight grip of sleeve. Then, the pillar of gray and black drifted away as he moved toward the door, revealing the climbing maple with its flaming red leaves.
"Many of the plates, I'm sure. That's fine. He should have enough time before I need to use it again." Madara reached for the beaten layers, liberating it from him without resistance. His brother didn't even seem to notice its absence as it was lowered to the floor next to the ikebana. He'd return it to its armor stand later.
"You brought her here…"
"I did." He confirmed the obvious with a touch of transient amusement. A knowing glance regarded the mild shock on his face. "Something wrong, Izuna? I thought you liked surprises. You certainly gave me one."
"I told you that was not intentional."
She heard the sigh and the murmur of protest, all the while remaining a perfect statue. Using the little space and time she was given to muster her shield of poise back into place. If the spirit of this meeting even brushed shoulders with the first two she experienced with Izuna, it was going to be a test of fortitude she wasn't sure she would withstand. Madara's presence added an even more precarious layer of complexity, and she had no reason to believe he would decide anything in her favor, if they ended up clashing.
"Why is she here?"
"Yes, that is the question." Madara agreed with a faint smile. The edge was receding again, now that his focus was elsewhere. Though he was a bit irritated by the waves this Senju created in his own village, he was more interested to figure out what made her unique enough to be here at all. Until he grilled the responsible party, he was never going to get the full picture.
Now he could begin.
Izuna finally pulled his eyes from her to stare at his brother. He gave a dry laugh once he understood. "You want to do this now?"
"It's as good a time as any. The most pressing matters are out of the way. I've been asked by more than one person what I plan to do with her. So…let's talk."
"Fair enough." Conceding, Izuna glanced to her. Noting the color of her yukata, and how similar it was to the first one he saw her wearing. That one was long gone, tattered in blood and ash. Not the most common shade his villagers wore, but it suited her.
"Looks like you two already had a conversation… You haven't decided?" He commented in a nudge for more information. Whatever he walked into appeared uncomfortable. Not that he was surprised. She must hate them both on principle–himself much more than Madara. No one would blame her for that.
"She is here because of you, Izuna…" He reminded him on a more serious note, smile fading. "I wouldn't decide without you."
There was a pause. A slight nod of wordless gratitude. Behind him, the door slid shut, and he wandered slowly in the direction of the table.
Sakura bristled silently. Feeling the pressure of his presence invading her personal space, even while he was still feet away. Unconsciously, her arms squeezed against her sides. An instinctive aversion begged her to move away from him, but her heels planted. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"She says she's a medic." Madara ventured, watching the both of them as his brother drifted past. Then tension coiled thicker with every step he took, but it didn't deter him. Instead, it seemed to draw him like a magnet. Yet unlike a magnet, he stopped himself behind some invisible line. Never getting too close.
"She is, but she refuses to make use of her skills here. Unless she's having second thoughts…" He mused pointedly. Goading her to speak.
"I am not." Sakura reiterated without hesitation, chin lifting even higher as she looked up to the painted scroll across from her.
"That is a problem." Madara noted. Flitting her a critical glare, but sparing the rest his thoughts. More interested to see how their interaction unfolded. The rest of this painting may come together faster without his interference.
"I made it clear what the alternative was. I thought she would have reconsidered by now. Do you think I am bluffing…Sakura?"
"I try not to think of you at all." She quipped, but the anger was cooling. Drowning gradually under the fear and uncertainty trickling in. Knowing, deep down, that none of it mattered. There was no angle of resistance she could give that would allow her to wrest back control of her own life. Not from their hands. She could be as infuriated as she wanted, but it didn't change the fact that her fate was at their mercy. Her indignity meant nothing to them.
Izuna's smirk was brief. He wasn't sure what he expected her to say, but it wasn't that.
The maple tree disappeared into midnight blue as he stepped directly into her line of sight. She looked down instantly. Both to preserve her composure as she waited for whatever incendiary retort he was bound to fire back, and to deny him any further attention.
"This is your home now. That isn't going to change, no matter how you feel." He murmured. Catching her slights against him, and letting them go. "You're free to hate me as much as you want. That's fine. But what you can't do is nothing."
He waited for anything she was willing to give. Expecting more resistance of some kind, but she stonewalled him. Her eyes flickered over the board in thought. Too bitter to agree to any role that he might 'offer' her, and too reluctant to admit he might be right.
She couldn't do nothing. At some point, she would have to move forward. Find the right puzzle pieces she fit into, and simply…continue living. Either by her choice, or their order. No matter how difficult it was to swallow, she was stuck here. Izumi couldn't hide her away forever while she tried to avoid their entire clan.
"The other option was to choose one of our men and settle down." He elaborated when she continued to ignore him, head turning to his brother. A much less vulgar delivery than the one he initially gave her. "I told her she had a few weeks to decide, or I would pick someone for her. I figured she would be begging for the opportunity to work before then. Looks like I might be wrong."
"Settle down…" Madara echoed skeptically with a slight frown. It wasn't the rejection it appeared to be, but more of disbelief. "You would accept a Senju marrying into our clan?"
Izuna hesitated. Knowing how unlikely it sounded, coming from someone like him. A couple months ago, he would have outright condemned the idea. As their circumstances began to change, so did his perspectives. Some of them did not go quietly…but it was amazing what one could reconsider, when it was their family's survival at stake.
He couldn't explain his thought process without being blunt, and even a little somber. He almost danced around the question entirely, with her standing right there, but decided instead to be open.
His brother never welcomed indirectness. It was easier for them both to speak candidly.
"We've buried a lot of men this year, Madara... More than we are used to." His voice lowered, sobering to the reality so many of them had been muttering in each other's ears when they thought no one else was listening. As if they weren't all in the same boat, suffering the same consequences and losses. "We have lost many of our most skilled shinobi. There aren't enough experienced mentors for the younger generation. We need to focus on training…and growth."
"Yes, we do." He agreed evenly. Hearing nothing he didn't already know.
"She has strength and resilience…both in body and mind. So…yes, I could accept her. The more bodies we have, the faster we can rebound. If she won't put her skills to use, then she can still be an asset for the future generation."
"And what has she demonstrated to make her so worthy, in your eyes?" He asked, glancing to the stubbornly quiet Senju. Just in time to find her peering up at Izuna, while his attention was on him.
"Valor…which it sounds like you witnessed for yourself the other day." Of course he was referring to her refusal to bow to him in front of half the village. That juicy bit of gossip was going to be circulating for a while now.
Madara hummed to himself. 'Stupid' had been the descriptions some others had given. Even 'suicidal'. But…he did not disagree with him.
"More to the point, the only reason she's here now is because she stood in front of a direct assault that incinerated their medical tent, and everyone in it…except for her."
"How?" His brother asked tersely, eyes narrowing in doubt.
"Some kind of barrier. It matched the width of my fireball, and blocked enough of the damage to keep her alive. I haven't asked her about it yet…" Izuna looked at her. Catching the flicker of movement as her eyes immediately darted down again. She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but he said nothing. "From what I understand, she healed much of her injuries on her own, after Kazuo released her."
Though she betrayed none of the mixed emotions raging inside, she was, in a word, affected. Surprised not only by the praise she was given, but also the change in Izuna's temperament. This wasn't the grating cruelty she was expecting. No attempts to burrow under her skin. Not like before.
That did nothing to elevate his standing, in her mind. There was nothing he could do or say that would atone for his actions.
Never, would she trust him. Never, would she forgive him.
The only reason he was still alive was because she was incapable of killing him herself, and no amount of credit he gave her would change that.
The hiss of fabric whispered in the still room as Madara moved. His shadow loomed in her periphery, and then paused a moment. She could feel his eyes on her. Considering, weighing, judging…and deciding.
"This might be the first time I've heard you pay a woman such a compliment, but she needs more than just your approval. One of our men would need to agree to this arrangement. Do you think that will be so easy, considering where she came from?" Musing, he trespassed the invisible line Izuna had chosen not to touch. Wandering close enough to mute her racing thoughts as her senses sharpened in suspicion on his close proximity.
The wall of gray shifted closer, and then faded behind her.
"'Small barriers', Sakura…?" She heard him challenge quietly. Cinnamon bloomed around her as he leaned into her ear unseen, breath disturbing her hair with a small flutter. Freezing, her head began to pound dully as her blood pressure creeped higher.
"I haven't given it much thought yet, but yes. I know I can find someone. Which reminds me…"
Madara traced her shoulder with his eyes. Taking in her lithe frame through the rich green fabric. He followed the seam between her shoulder blades and down her back. Resolving to let her stay, the scales were now filling with a different kind of weight. A more intimate appraisal.
"Did you get those cyclebeads?"
The prod she'd been waiting for. Hearing the question didn't catch her off guard. She knew he would follow through, sooner or later. But there was something in the timing of it that made her pale in apprehension, rather than flush in anger.
Her lips parted, but all she did was breathe. Slow and measured, while she tried to first settle her nerves. Finding it increasingly difficult the longer Madara idled behind her.
While he waited, Izuna glanced down at the Shogi board separating them for the first time. It was backwards, as he stood on the side where his brother normally played. The layout had changed though. He caught it instantly, even without the strange little cracks drawing his attention to one of the squares.
"You were playing without me." Muttering to himself, he investigated the replaced pieces, noticing how little sense they made.
"No. I–haa" The next word disappeared into a gasp as she felt hands mold over her shoulders from behind, and explore down her elbows. Fingers squeezing in light pulses as they traveled. Her eyes shot up to Izuna, startled free from her stubborn resistance. He held her gaze for a moment, and then glanced curiously to the hands roaming boldly over her without preamble.
She went rigid beneath him. Joints locking under lean bands of muscle and taut sinew. Madara continued without explanation or apology. Ignoring her shock while he studied the shape of her. When he slipped under her arms and pressed into her sides, she jumped. A shaky whisper of an exhale was the only objection he heard, and it barely registered.
Ribs rolled in defined arches over his palms as his hands shifted around her, and her arms impulsively lifted outward. Fingers spread beneath her small breasts, bunching the cotton and feeling their pronounced indentations. She tried to lean away in reflex, but he dug his fingertips in and pulled back against him with a subtle jerk. A wrinkle of disapproval formed on his brow, and they traveled down. Pressing into her waist the way they did around her arms.
"Alright… I'll do it…" She gushed in a soft, rushed voice. Panicking and paralyzed. "I'll work in your hospital."
"You will do both." He assured. Impervious to the desperation pleading through her sudden surrender. Izuna observed silently. Absorbed in the path his hands made with care down the base of her ribcage, and over the curves of her hip bones. They lingered there, inspecting their width with an acknowledging hum. The disapproving wrinkle eased.
"And you will need to start eating." He added finally. Head tilting to gaze down the length of her legs. There was little to be gauged with that swath of green in the way, but he would end his invasion at her hips. He had enough of an idea now.
Cresting fear receded. Just enough to keep her from the brink of lunging away from him. She wanted nothing more to reclaim space. Escape the dull aroma of cinnamon hovering around her and the tickle of his breath wisping through her hair, but she waited. Sensing he would leave her be, once he was satisfied with his crude assessment.
The pressure melted from her hips as his hands lifted, and she breathed.
Tink.
A faint sound of one hard surface flicking into another. Madara's gaze fell down her left arm, stopping at the inside of her wrist, where his fingernails hit. The longer he stared, the more he recognized the shape of something stiff bracing within her sleeve.
His nails glided experimentally over the spot, and the shape came together.
"Open your hand." He murmured, quiet and unconcerned. Almost deceiving her into believing she could deny the 'request', but she didn't. He would open it for her, if she tried.
Reluctantly, her fingers unclenched just enough to give him space to slip two of his up her sleeve. Steel reflected light as the small chopping knife pulled free easily, its edge avoiding both her skin and the fabric. A quick spin from his index and middle finger, and the grip slapped into his palm as he held it up.
Sakura stared unblinking through Izuna's chest, pores dilating in a cold sweat.
"So this is why you smell like onions." His shadow lurked into her periphery again as he moved to her side. There was no indication he was surprised, or even upset. He merely inspected the blade in mild disappointment.
"Is this for me?"
"No." Her response was defensively quick. He glanced to her pale pink hair, following it down to the front of her collarbone. A harsh angle of shadow in the hollow of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. The prominent curve of her clavicles supported the evidence of the thin flesh he felt beneath her clothing. He stared at the fluttering pulse beating in the cozy light, and decided that he believed her.
A brief smile flashed on his face, but there was little warmth to it. He finished his half-circle, and she could see nothing but him. Long black hair haloed his pale face, and eclipsed his brother completely, standing before her. She never did catch Izuna's expression before it vanished, but the continued silence meant he was paying attention.
Sakura traded the midnight blue chest for the abyssal gray.
"Then it is for my brother?" Asking with a hint of amusement, a beam of light flickered as he lifted and turned the knife over again. Admiring the razor edge as it shined a gold spark snapping down its length. It appeared to be well cared for. He wondered if Izumi recognized its absence.
"...No."
The smile faded and his eyes narrowed. The hesitation in her response was so brief, but it reverberated louder than the word itself. She wasn't being honest.
"No…?" He whispered to her in doubt. Unconsciously, she leaned backward. This time, there were no hands to hold her in place, but he followed her. Denying the space she sought by matching her shift with his own as he moved forward.
Pink shuddered against her cheeks as she shook her head, and slowly tilted her face away from him. Daring to glance over the tatami and up to the door she came through, as if debating how fast she could get to it.
"Look at me." The order came with a snarl, the corner of his mouth curling.
What little compassion he was willing to offer her would whisk forever out of reach if she wasn't careful. He could forgive her public disrespect. It meant little to him, considering the circumstances that brought her here. But a threat against his brother, in his own home, would be a much more ambitious pardon for her to earn.
Her eyes flew to his, wide and anxious. Detecting an edge in his voice that mirrored the steel in his hand. A glint of orange light burned in their black depths, like smoldering coal.
"Is this for my brother?" He repeated calmly.
Another fleeting pause, and again she shook her head.
Madara's jaw flexed, impatience igniting into anger. He didn't believe her.
It was one thing to want to kill him. Were it not for her continued deception, he might have disregarded the attempt at subterfuge with a scoff. Not anymore. He despised treachery almost as much weakness, with the only difference being that treachery could at least prove useful. With the right execution, it would impress him…but if that was her intent, she failed miserably.
The obi loosened at her back before she realized his arm moved. It unraveled, falling away from her waist in rough, precise tugs. Thick bands of silver with little white flowers whipping through the air around her, nudging her off balance in one direction and then another, with barely the time to catch her footing. The only thing that kept her upright was his own hands as they stripped the layers. Flashes of light blinked off the flat edge of the blade as it remained in his grip. Remarkably slicing through nothing.
She yelped, stumbling backwards as he gripped the front of her yukata and tore it open. Exposing the thin white underlayer that kept it clean, and provided an extra layer of warmth.
Gaping at him in horror, she choked on her words. Neither fast nor strong enough to stop him, and too stunned to understand what the purpose of this was.
Humiliation? That possibility was the first to pierce through the chaos of her mind, preceding a prickle of dread at the notion that it might not end there, but she was given no time to think.
"Wait…" She managed to whisper. Reeling as she tried to keep up. The green sleeves dropped down her shoulders, and the cool air of the room wafted. Breezing effortlessly through the sheer cotton. The alcove crashed around her as she tripped into it. Feet tangling in the mess of clothing as it slumped to the floor. A crown of painted persimmons scrunched above her head as her back pressed into the elegant silk scroll.
His hands explored her similarly to the way they'd done before, only more thorough. Feeling along her arms, waist, and this time lower. Each grope a promise that the only thing that would stop him was his own discretion. It wasn't until the final barrier parted from her legs did she clue in to what he was doing.
He was searching for more weapons. Callously, cruelly…arguably unnecessarily…but that was what he wanted.
"I don't have–ah!"
His palm vanished between her knees, fingers curling around the back of her thigh as he brushed higher. Indifferent to the nails that dug into his forearm in reflex. A tremor rattled through her, and he watched the fear dawn on her face. A true, primal fear that was nothing like the nervous glances she'd given before.
There were no other layers beneath the white. Nothing but skin. He knew that before he touched her. Just like he knew there were no more weapons. That was his deception.
The swells of her breast peeked through the sheer cotton below him. Pale pink pebbles in a hazy sea of milk. He never touched them. His hand slowed in its encroaching sweep as her thighs clamped down on either side. Squeezing his knuckles. He never reached the delicate heat at their apex, either. He knew he wouldn't need to.
"It's for me!" She cried, finally finding her voice. "The knife is for me! For self-defense!"
The hand paused, and he listened to her shuddering breaths. Felt the hammering of her pulse against his fingertips. His gaze pinned her down in their scrutiny, withholding sympathy.
"It's all I have…" Her voice cracked and wavered. She coiled away from him with arm crossing her chest, but there were no tears. A small detail that surprised him. Even earning her more respect, though she would never know by looking at him.
"Madara…"
He ignored the call behind him. Studying her as he considered the outburst.
There was truth in it, though he suspected she was not being completely open. Still, it was enough.
"It's not all you have."
Sakura winced from the accusation. Bracing for him to continue the assault in search of something he would never find. Rip the last layer away from her. The arm across her chest squeezed tighter, fingers gripping into her own shoulder. Her other hand kept its futile anchor on his forearm, waiting for it to climb higher.
"You have your chakra. You're just not using it to its full potential, either out of spite or self-doubt." His hand pulled from her. Slipping into the cool air and letting the curtain of white sink shut around her thighs. She shied away with a turn of her cheek, hair spilling in a veil over her eyes.
"No one in this village will hurt you, unless I command it. And if I do, this–" He growled. Cold steel pricked her throat, just beneath her chin. Guiding her head up to look him in the eye again. The knife pressed hard enough for a thin trickle of blood to seep down its edge. Glinting light snuffing beneath a strip of crimson.
"–will not save you."
"Madara…" The voice was much closer this time. He felt pressure on his upper arm as a hand slipped around it.
His eyes bore into hers for another moment. Long enough for her to read his intent. If she tried to turn from him again, the blade would not yield with her. Small dark beads pooled at the base of the knife and flickered down to the floor. Staining the tatami between their feet in a soft patter. She stared back silently, shivering from raw nerves and crisp air, but she would not look away this time.
Finally, he tilted an ear over his shoulder, acknowledging his brother. Smoldering glow winking to black as his eyes turned from the light.
"You can blame me for that. After what she experienced at her camp, she's right to be afraid." Izuna watched the blood trickle as he eased closer, holding firm against the gray sleeve. His eyes traced the blade up to her sallow cheeks, and the pale green eyes glued obediently to Madara.
"Yes…and we will discuss that later." He promised, murmuring as the ire ebbed slowly from his voice. Catching the tension veiled under the impassive mask on his brother's face.
The blade withdrew, and the cut oozed freely. Following a new path down the slope of her neck in a sluggish red stem. Pulled by gravity until it disappeared into the edge of white cotton. Its journey ended between her breasts, seeping through the fabric like a blooming spider lily.
Madara shifted from between them. The knife clattered down next to the Shogi board as he passed behind Izuna, tiny flecks of blood scattering over the captured pieces. Sakura remained frozen against the wrinkled scroll at her back, watching the shoji doors snap open in her periphery to her right. Glowing squares parting to reveal the flickering lanterns hanging from the rafters of the porch. Beyond them, an expanse of misty night she didn't turn to investigate. Her eyes lowered instead to the blue robe in front of her, and tentatively inched down.
Izuna moved, and she stiffened. A faint pop sounding from the thin structure of the wall as her back braced against it. Instinctively trying to avoid his reach, until she realized his hand was aiming down to the floor between them. She watched the sprawled yukata uncoil from its lifeless slump, and float towards her in offering.
Regarding it with disbelief, her arms hugged tightly to shield what she could from his view. The clothing hung in the air for several seconds. Waiting patiently, until she exposed her chest long enough to pluck it cautiously from his hand.
Madara observed discreetly. A discerning eye focusing on his brother with a slight tilt of his head from over his shoulder.
It draped over her in an amorphous blanket as she pulled it back, clutching it below her chin. A hint of concern betrayed his wandering gaze, but it hardened the moment she glanced up to him. Once she was covered, he turned without waiting for her to speak..
Water rippled gently beneath the wooden planks as he stood at the edge of the porch. Staring out into the fog. Izuna appeared next to him, shoulder to shoulder. A ghostly vision drifted in and out of sight at their feet. Firelight glittering off the surface of a pond and the pearlescent scales of a black and white koi floating through light and shadow.
"She witnesses the massacre of her own camp by your hands, including its women, and you turn around and grant her the false liberty of choosing an Uchiha to share her bed with…" He murmured dubiously, mulling over their recent conversation. "Of course she's reckless enough to carry a knife."
"I know. I don't expect her to make the decision for herself. We would be waiting for the rest of our lives." Izuna explained quietly, stern gaze aimed at the vague shapes and splashes of color swirling and hovering soundlessly in the inky water. Dozens of fish lurked in its depths, though most were obscured. Muddled and distorted by the dark, much like his own thoughts. His mood began to sour.
There was more to be said, but not now. Not with her huddled in the shadow of the alcove, feet away from them.
"I'll think on it."
"Itachi." She blurted behind them.
Both of their heads turned to look back at her.
"...Itachi…?" Izuna repeated in confusion, thin brows pinching.
"You said I could choose…" Her voice faded with uncertainty. The explanation was a simple one. A desperate bid for the only sliver of control she could detect in a room whose walls were shrinking dangerously close. It surprised even herself, but she didn't recant the decision. His name was one of very few she even knew. The first she considered trusting, in the split-second she had to make up her mind.
Anything was better than letting Izuna decide.
Her eyes peered at them above the clutch of green under her chin.
Madara's brow twitched, and he glanced curiously to his brother.
"Yes…I did…" He said carefully, eyes narrowing.
"Itachi…" Madara faced the night once more, hands coming to rest comfortably at his back. The fact that she knew who he was surprised him. He assumed her revulsion to his men would have persisted enough to prevent her from picking any name at all. "Interesting… He is unmarried, so it's a possibility."
"He broke his own engagement. To Izumi, no less. He'd never agree to something like this." Izuna was quick to add. Sour mood leaching into his tone as he glanced down to the water. Mysteriously vexed by the turn this was taking.
He missed the harsh slap of shock on her face.
"That's right, he did." Madara recalled. A key piece of information he'd nearly forgotten, as it held no relevance to his commitments. The idea of his own marriage was barely a consideration in the back of his mind, let alone someone else's.
"Then, maybe he won't. There's only one way to find out." Shuffling from the edge of the porch, he wandered through the wide frame of glowing shoji and into the dimmer sitting room. Sparing Sakura his gaze as he passed between her and the blood-flecked table.
"Where are you going?" He heard his brother call, and noted the subtle wariness in his words.
"You can ask him and be done with it." Madara settled, swiping the plain door to the side.
"Sasuke…" He called. In the distance, the front door opened after a pause. Footsteps traced unhurriedly through the hall, stopping once Madara was in sight.
"Is your brother home?"
"He should be…" He answered. More intrigued by the question than he appeared, though he didn't seek an elaboration.
"Bring him to me."
Sasuke nodded and turned back the way he came. Mind wandering in a dozen directions that were nowhere close to hitting the mark. Their conversation hadn't been nearly loud enough for his ears to catch from where he stood guard.
Sakura shifted timidly away from the wall, freeing the harassed scroll from her back. An arm burrowed absently through the yukata. Blundering in its clumsy search for a sleeve as her tunnel vision absorbed into the drops of blood staining the mat. Dread pooling in the realization of what she'd done.
It wasn't her fault. She couldn't have known about his previous engagement. There was no indication they had any significant history between them. She couldn't have known he would be summoned the moment she uttered his name, either. But it didn't matter. He was coming. Whatever the outcome, there would be inescapable consequences to follow.
Her footing teetered slightly as she hunted for the second sleeve. Head swimming as a creeping dizziness threatened her balance. She didn't know what scared her more… Hearing him reject the idea, and potentially send her down the path to a bleaker future. Or, much less likely, hearing him actually accept, and what that would mean.
No matter how he responded to such a bold proposal, it was guaranteed to forever alter the course of more than one relationship. Possibly even dash what little support system she could take comfort in out of her grasp, if it wasn't well received. The idea was almost too much to bear.
An irritable gleam retreated from his older brother before he could catch it, and Izuna sighed as he turned his back on the room. Steam puffing from his lips into the chilling air, and melting into the fog. Orange and black scales shimmered as another koi abandoned the revealing light for the planks beneath his feet.
On the roof above, a shadow darted from its concealing crouch. Slinking soundlessly over the tiles and leaping unnoticed from their home into the darkness. In pursuit of the unwitting escort that trailed off down the main road.