A/N:This wasn't as polished as I'd like it to be, but I did my best with the time I had.
Pastel jade tumbled down in her periphery. The first vibrant color she'd seen since entering the dimly lit shop. She heard the appreciative 'ooo' and the excited whispering. As if something scandalous had been uncovered. She peeked from the corner of her eyes at the prized cloth Izumi was inspecting as it draped across her arms. The elderly shopkeeper waited patiently next to her, never casting her wrinkled gaze in Sakura's direction. She wasn't sure how to judge the woman's complete disregard for her presence, but she supposed it was better than outright scorn.
"Look at this one! It matches your eyes! And the flowers are pretty, too." Long stems of white and gold lotuses climbed up the bottom. The highest reaching just below the waist. It was pretty, but Sakura wasn't optimistic enough to believe she'd ever do more than enjoy it from a distance.
"Too pretty." She commented, and looked back down at the dark blue yukata neatly folded in the drawer that had been pulled out. So much of the fabric was plain, or with simple designs and details. Humble in appearance, but crafted with decades of experience and clearly well-made. There weren't many bright colors. Lots of blues, black, and earthy shades. Sometimes red. It made sense. It was more costly and time-consuming to make the kind Izumi was doting over. This wasn't a clan that focused on such luxury goods.
The soft fabric slipped from her fingers as she moved away. Easing toward the door, she watched the shimmering of light rain through the open window. It was midday, but the overcast sky made it feel like evening. Orange light flickered along the many cabinets from the hanging lanterns in the shop behind her.
Every so often, someone hurried through the street with an umbrella, splashing through shallow puddles. In the distance, she could hear the sharp clang of metal as training continued. Rain or shine, day or night, there was always someone making noise. A group following their mentor's lead, or individuals in their own private sessions. The sounds of clashing swords and kunai were as common as the breeze rustling through leaves. So much like home…
"Uhg, I should have known." Izumi grumbled behind her. An ear turned to listen.
"I always find the most expensive one in the shop." The jade fabric was nowhere to be seen now. In its place, a few yukatas were stacked in the Uchiha's arms. The prettiest ones she could find in more reasonable shades and patterns, and of course, price tags.
"The prettiest one tends to be the most expensive." She stared at the clothes with a slight frown. Such generosity was…uncomfortable. Maybe she did need things to wear, but she couldn't help feeling a little undeserving. Not only did she have nothing to offer in return, but that shattered front door put her in debt.
She may be an unwilling guest in their village, but that wasn't Izumi's fault. Taking from her felt…wrong.
"I'm fine with what you've already given me, really. You don't need to buy me more." Sakura insisted gently. To no surprise, the Uchiha quirked her lips and stared, unconvinced.
"Nonsense! You need at least a week's worth. It's just clothes. Everyone needs clothes, right?"
The reluctant gaze lingering on the stack of cloth in her arms was almost as stubborn as Izumi's insistent one, and she sighed.
"Okay, look… Why don't I buy them for me, and you can have some more of my older clothes in my closet. Would that make you feel better?"
"...Well… I suppose…as long as they're not too expensive." Sakura relented with difficulty. No matter what she said, they would be walking home with a stack of yukatas. There would come a point where continuously refusing a gift would be seen as more rude than noble, and she didn't want to cause a fuss.
The Uchiha beamed a smile. "Great! I'll pay for these and we can go." Long brown hair swished as she spun away.
Sakura watched her go. She'd been so upbeat ever since they left the house. It had taken a lot of reassurance and a bit of good-natured pushing to get her to venture outside with her new friend. What awaited her in the busy streets was a mystery that she'd been afraid to uncover. Now that she was finally poking her head out of her shell, it didn't seem as intimidating as she expected. There was no crowd armed with torches and pitchforks screaming for her eviction. Still, no one had spoken a word to her. There were plenty of side-eyes, but everyone kept their distance. She wondered how it might change if she explored alone. Sooner or later, she would have to find out. That was a bigger hurdle for another day.
Damp air misted around her as she stepped through the doorway. Sinking into the grayish-blue sleeves as she crossed her arms over her chest. Chilling, but tolerable. A light fog hovered between the buildings. Blanketing everything in a silvery veil as it crept in at a snail's pace from the dense forest all around them. Behind her, the polite chattering between Izumi and the shopkeeper melted into white noise as her attention switched to all the small storefronts lining the main road. A few villagers crowded under overhangs, like her.
Not long ago, she was perusing almost identical shops with Ino. Grabbing vegetables on the way home to make dinner, or picking up more thread to mend her own robes. Such mundane, daily tasks that she never spared a second thought until now.
All the families she briefly visited as she ran her errands. They knew her name. Many of them smiled when they saw her. She spent more time working than anything, but she recognized now the warmth and familiarity that was absent. A subtle, comforting undercurrent that had been ever-present, and therefore taken for granted. She never imagined how deep the void would feel once it was all gone.
She would have felt less alone if she were isolated in the middle of nowhere.
Memories of her last conversation with Itachi cautioned in the back of her mind. Of needing to seek out those she could trust. Finding even a few Uchiha that would accept her. There was wisdom in his words, but the execution seemed so impossible. What was she supposed to do? Introduce herself as the friendly neighborhood Senju to everyone and hope they overlooked the fact that a week ago she was contributing to the deaths of their own husbands, brothers, fathers… What if the only reason she was safe was because she did keep to herself?
A peal of laughter reeled her to the left, breaking through the rhythmic staccato of clashing steel in the distance. In the middle of the street, a short, human-shaped blob of mud rose from the ground. Limbs angled wide like a starfish, afraid to touch anything including itself. Sakura instantly recognized the shorter boy standing a few paces behind, clutching his stomach as he lost his composure.
"Not funny!" The muddy starfish shouted, and the boy laughed even harder. With a vigorous shake of his head, mud flung itself through the air, and he turned and chased after his friend with a vengeance.
A faint smile found her as she watched the orphans sprint around in circles and then dart down an alley between shops, screaming the whole way. Whatever they'd been through in their short lives, it didn't seem to keep them down. The few times she glimpsed them, they were always on the run.
"Okay! You got the umbrella? We need to pick up some fish on the way home. I think I have everything else." Izumi appeared next to her, carrying the clothes in a wrapped parcel.
Nodding, she retrieved the bamboo handle leaning against the wall and popped it open. The weather was lightening to a drizzle as they stepped into the street, but the thin paper was treated with grease to keep it waterproof in the heaviest rain. The wide tan and red canopy offered a bit of extra privacy too, which she liked.
"I'm sorry…about your door…" Sakura murmured, glancing at the vendors as they maneuvered around the biggest puddles.
"You already apologized for that. Twice. You don't need to keep saying sorry." Izumi laughed. Still in a good mood, by the sound of it.
"I know. I guess… I don't understand why you're so nice about it. All of this… Me… Isn't it an inconvenience for you? Why don't you look at me the way everyone else does? Like I…don't belong here."
"Who's looking at you like you don't belong here?" The Uchiha asked quickly. Dark brown eyes snooped around the stalls and homes with suspicion. As if ready to confront any would-be troublemakers.
"Not right now. But… I see them sometimes. They stare when they think I'm not paying attention. When they think I am, they refuse to make eye contact."
"Oh. Well… That's not so unexpected, is it? None of them know you yet. You just showed up out of nowhere, and you've barely made an appearance outside. I'll help introduce you to people. We'll start with the friendliest ones. That should make it easier." The parcel shifted against her side so she could loop a free arm through Sakura's. "And if anyone is rude to you, I'll just beat them up."
"What? No–" Her eyes flashed wide as she snapped a nervous glance.
"I'm kidding." She snickered. "As for me… I don't see you as an inconvenience. It's kind of nice to have someone else in the house again, to be honest. It's been empty for...too long." A smile lingered on her face, but her tone sank. A note of embedded sadness.
"I'm surprised you're not married. I haven't known you for very long, but you seem like a generally optimistic and likable person. There should be men beating down your door. Don't you want a family?" Sakura prodded curiously.
The subtle changes in Izumi's expression went unnoticed as she returned her gaze to the rows of buildings surrounding them. Perhaps she should have known better. Or at least suspected a reason, but for the moment, a lapse of naivety tripped her judgment.
"I was going to get married." She murmured, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. Staying positive was challenging sometimes, but she kept reminding herself that happiness was a choice…not a consequence. A choice she needed to consciously make every day. Pain and anger were too easy to drown in, and that's not how she wanted to feel anymore. "As you would know, probably more than me…sometimes things just…change for the worse, without much warning."
Sakura's heart sank. Inwardly, she cursed herself for not having a bit more forethought. Their endless warring chewed up and spit out so many lives, she should have known. Almost every casualty left behind at least one person who loved them, after all.
"Oh… Izumi… I'm so sorr–"
"Hey, you've said sorry enough lately. You don't need to be sorry about anything." That smile beamed back to life. Convincing, even if it took more effort this time. "Anyway… I like to think that everything happens for a reason, in the end. Maybe I'll get married one day. I just haven't really…uhm…been interested in anyone else yet. Feelings are…tricky…you know?"
Regret shadowed her as Sakura looked away in thought.
Somewhere ahead of them, small feet splashed through puddles as the boys continued to race around the village. Looking noticeably dirtier with each pass they made into the open.
"I know what he did…" She added much more quietly with a meaningful glance. It didn't quite follow their dialogue, so Sakura merely looked at her.
"Izuna. I know what he did to your camp. Some of his men have been whispering about it ever since they came back with you."
"Ah…" Swallowing, she looked away again. Unsure of what to say. It was certainly nothing she needed to answer for, and though Izumi had been doing her best to make her feel at home, it wasn't something she felt she could burden her with. How many of her own friends and family had been killed by Senju? The subject was far too complicated.
"It's not okay, Sakura. No matter what any of us has gone through, what he did… It's upsetting even to us. I know our clans have been fighting for a long time but that's not what we stand for. We don't murder people who can't even defend themselves." The arm squeezed tighter against hers. The closest thing to a hug the Uchiha was brave enough to offer..
She listened in silence. Brow wrinkling as she tried to reflect on everything without inviting the images back into her mind. It was already difficult enough to sleep at night while trying to forget them.
"I guess I'm trying to say… We've all experienced a lot of loss. Me included. But I don't want you to think that everyone here is going to hate you. Or that we all think the way Izuna does. From what I've been hearing, a lot of them were surprised by what he did. I'm sure some of them didn't care, on the other hand–"
"They didn't stop him." She countered, matching her quiet tone as a vacant stare lost itself in the fog tunneling ahead of them. "Not one of them even tried. They just…watched…"
At that, Izumi looked down. For a time, the squelching mud beneath their feet was the only sound they made.
"Treason is…the worst crime they believe they could commit. Shinobi are taught to follow orders, and keep their mouths shut. Publicly opposing your own leader is usually a social death sentence, if not a literal one. Is it not like that with the Senju?" The explanation was cautious, but factual. Not in an attempt to excuse their actions–or lack thereof–but to make sense of them.
"As far as I know, the Senju haven't slaughtered a bunch of housewives. So…I don't know what they would do." She countered again, and took a slow, heavy breath.
Izumi winced, and fell quiet.
"It's alright…" Sakura relented softly. "I get what you're trying to say, and I believe you. You sound a little like Itachi, actually…"
The squelching stopped as Izumi paused and stared at her in surprise. "Itachi? When did you speak with him?"
"Ah, well… He was the one who walked me home while you were out searching for me. You know…when I broke your door…and ran…"
Curious doe eyes snapped away when a rush of filthy brown streaked past them. Close enough to smear some fresh mud on the skirt of her yukata. Izumi scrunched her nose in disgust, delicately pinching the cloth between two fingers and holding it out to the side as she inspected the damage.
"I swear…" She tsk'd, eyes trailing after the racing boys with a mild glare.
Sakura smiled slightly as she watched them go.
The smaller one was chasing the bigger one now…and it was the bigger one who skid to a halt the moment he glanced over his shoulder and realized who was looking back at him. Causing his friend to wail and clumsily spin out of the way to avoid slamming into him. In turn, he face-planted into the mud as he slipped and lost his balance. Judging by his monochrome appearance, it wasn't his first mud bath. They were nearly indistinguishable now.
The smile faltered when she caught the intensity in the boy's gaze. Skipping from recognition into hostility within a heartbeat as their eyes locked.
"You!" He barked. Swiping some mud off his face, he stalked towards them. The younger boy scrambled from the ground and looked up at them. At first, just as confused as Sakura, but when he saw her, his eyes widened in alarm.
"You're a Senju!" The accusation fired at her. Marking her very existence as a crime. "Why are you here? You shouldn't be here! You don't belong here! You should be dead!" His yelling echoed throughout the village, seething with hate. More than she ever imagined a boy so young could feel.
And just like that, one of her biggest fears began unraveling right before her, for the whole village to witness.
He stared her down as if she were the sole reason his parents were gone. The reason any of them had to fight at all. The first real, and in his mind deserving, target for all the sorrow and injustice he'd faced in his life.
The sudden and explosive change from the last time she saw him shocked her mute. Her eyes and tongue leeched dry, and her grip on the bamboo tightened with a squeak.
Of course he would find out who she was, sooner or later. She couldn't blend in if she wanted to. Everyone in the village likely whispered something about her under their breath by now. But such palpable rage… Any second, she half expected him to sprint for her with the intent to kill.
Unconsciously, she took a step backwards. Less in concern that he would succeed, and more in fear of hurting him in the process of defending herself, if he tried.
"Hey, knock it off!" Izumi snapped sharply, moving forward and sidestepping between them. Out of the canopy and into the boy hesitated, switching his glare to the Uchiha now blocking his way.
"You know nothing about her, Noboru! She is not your enemy! She is a harmless guest and you will be respectful!"
The boy flashed his teeth with a clench of his jaw. His voice cracked with the strain of shouting so loud. "Why are you defending her?! She's one of them! My dad is dead because of them, and so is yours! Why does she deserve to be here and not them?!"
Sakura's heart broke into smaller pieces with every scathing addition to his attack. Both for him, and because of him. There was nothing she could possibly say to douse the flames in this situation. Speaking at all might just make it worse.
Her hands lowered, and with them, the umbrella sank closer to the top of her head. Shielding her from many of the eyes that were trained on the four of them now. Every single person on the street that was visible within the fog had stopped and stared. All conversation and barter had ceased. Even the distant clang of metal dissipated at the commotion.
"Stop making a scene, Noboru..." Izumi intentionally lowered her voice, staring him firmly in the eye. Hoping in vain that he would do the same. "She's lost people she cares about too, but you don't see her screaming at us, do you? Sakura is a healer. She doesn't hurt people, she helps them. She hasn't killed anyone."
One by one, the silent spectators turned their attention to something new. Heads tilted down the main road the two had been strolling along, and a flurry of murmurs and whispers hummed to life all around them. Something Sakura failed to notice, as she was too busy trying to block them out completely.
The boy's lip curled, teeth still bared, but he hesitated. Something she said broke through the storm clouds long enough to make him reconsider, but it was far from enough to blow them away. There was too much pain, and too little understanding. "So then she helps the Senju who do kill! It doesn't make a difference! If she's dead, then the rest of them can die faster!"
He burst forward. Izumi had enough time to flinch and brace for impact–because she sure as hell wasn't letting him get past her–but someone else knocked him clear off his feet at the halfway mark.
"Leave her alone! She's just a girl!" The younger boy screamed at his friend in a rattled voice as Noboru splat onto his side. He moved fast enough to shock even himself.
The malice wiped clean from Noboru's face, if only for a second. He stared first in awe at his friend, and then the anger returned. Compounded by his betrayal. "She's not just a girl, she's a Senju!" He roared. "Stay out of the way if you're not going to help!"
"Enough." A deep voice boomed with authority behind them. The two boys froze and stared into the gray shroud. Peeking this way and that around the taller women to try to make out the dark shadows looming into view down the road. Izumi's heart sprang into her throat, recognizing the voice instantly. Sakura made an agonizingly slow spin to face their ever-growing audience.
Why not throw in the entire Uchiha army, for good measure?
Oh…but look at that. They were already there.
Well, about half the army.
Two figures faded in through the silver mist, moving at an unhurried pace. The man in maroon plated armor, and whoever accompanied him, preceded the rest by a few meters, but she saw them all soon enough. By the time she understood who she was seeing, a dark band of approaching forces bled in behind the two. A wave of blue and black manifesting into bodies. Dozens of men followed by dozens more filing down the main road. Some of them ended their march at different stalls or homes. Others continued on, carrying numerous stretchers of those too injured to walk on their own. A few seemed to have succumbed to their wounds along the way, and sprawled limp with their eyes closed.
The villagers that once stared at Sakura now hovered in low, reverent bows for the approaching shinobi.
Noboru jumped to his feet and walked up next to Sakura. Pride swelled within him at the parade of what he could only call heroes. A short but vindictive glance scalded the woman at his side. The intruder. The murderer–no one would convince him otherwise. Triumph gleamed in his eye, as if he knew he already won.
Without another word, he ran past her and toward Madara Uchiha himself. Izumi sucked in her breath through her teeth, but kept quiet. Her fingers curled around one of Sakura's arms, and she pulled them both to the edge of the road beneath the overhang of a shop entrance.
This day just could not get any better.
"Masashi…come here."
The smaller boy glanced fleetingly up at Izumi as she whispered to him. Visibly torn, and distracted by his own internal battle. He took one tentative step towards her, and then searched Sakura's face. She looked sick. Like she might vomit. Her cheeks were so pale, it made her hair seem even brighter.
He liked her hair… He liked her, even if he couldn't explain why…
Sakura was fixated on the leader of their clan, yet at the same time, she looked to be realms away. Lost in an unwilling tunnel vision that was blind and deaf everything around her, except for one man. Something about their approach was haunting. Peeling back wounds that were nowhere close to healing as fragmented images and echoes of chaos flashed in her mind and tricked her ears into hearing things that were no longer there.
Masashi gave another quick glance down at the hand waving for him to follow them to the edge of the road and out of the way. Then, he shook his head, and took off after his friend.
"Madara-sama!" Noboru streaked before him with a bow, brimming with confidence that overshadowed his own sense of discipline. He admired his elder about as much as a five-year old was capable. Vowing to one day fight alongside him, in honor of his late father who did just the same. In truth, it was the only sense of purpose he felt. "There's a Senju here! In our own village! She–"
"Madara-sama!" A second voice interrupted as Masashi raced up behind him, small muddy fists clenching at his sides. He sounded out of breath, but he wasn't winded. He was anxious. More than he could ever remember being before. After all, he wasn't used to arguing like this. Not about something so important, and with people who were so important to him.
He didn't know what he was doing, or what would happen next. He just knew it felt right, even if it was scary.
"She didn't do anything! Don't let him hurt her, it's not fair!" The four-year old shouted over his friend in desperation. Almost forgetting his own bow of respect, which he hastily added at the end.
Noboru glared heatedly at him, nearly throttling him where he stood. They'd never had a serious scuffle before, but he was about to resort to blows if his friend didn't back down. All over some stupid Senju, too. Their friendship was supposed to be stronger than that.
"I said enough." Madara repeated. Terse and cold.
The commanding tone shook some of Noboru's resolve, and he cast a glance that was both curious and worried up at the man he idolized more than any other–living man, anyway. Sensing he'd made a misstep, but he couldn't comprehend what.
The black eyes that met him were shadowed and creased from too many nights without enough sleep. A few healing nicks and cuts scabbed his face and neck from barrages of shrapnel. The sturdy armor covering him was dented and gauged in many places, with old smudges of soot, dirt, and blood. His long hair smelled like iron and earth, and flowed wildly over the gunbai hitched to his back.
"I heard you, boy. The entire forest heard you." He held his gaze for a moment longer, and then rose to the women who retreated to the doorway of a shop ahead of them. Settling on a pair of green that watched him in return. Looked right through him, rather. Even from this distance, he could see she was stiff as a board. Her fingers gripped the umbrella too tightly. An umbrella she didn't even need to hold anymore.
Noboru's throat suddenly felt too thick when he tried to swallow, but there was no shame. Only vague confusion and anticipation, as he watched and waited to see what his elder's next move would be. Such calmness caught him off guard. He was sure their own clan leader would jump at the chance to rid them of a Senju brazen enough to stand among them in their own home. Beside him, Masashi squirmed in silence, forgetting how to blink until his eyes turned to sandpaper.
"Do you know why she is here?" Madara asked. So impassive, it sucked more of the wind out of the boy's sails.
"Uhm… No…" Noboru admitted with a tinge of embarrassment.
"No." He echoed to himself with seeming indifference. "Is she here by accident?"
"I… I don't know. I don't think so."
"Then someone brought her here?"
The boy looked increasingly distraught with each additional question. This wasn't the response he imagined getting. The confusion grew, and the foundation of his own conviction began to crumble and chip as he doubted himself.
"I guess…someone must have…"
A critical eye judged the disheveled youth before him. The awkward skepticism forming in light of his own insufficient answers was enough for Madara. A mere shadow of the reprimand he would have unleashed on a trained shinobi that he relied upon.
"It sounds like you don't know very much, Noboru. Before you start demanding someone's death for all the world to hear, you should at least find out who they are first." He concluded without sympathy. Loyalty and initiative were commendable, but they were wasted in the absence of insight. That was a valuable lesson he needed to learn.
The streaks of mud hid the flush on his cheeks as his embarrassment surged deeper. Tiny chunks cracked and rained from his brow as it furrowed. He searched the ground at his feet quietly, stewing in thought. "Mmm…yes, Madara-sama…"
Gloved hands settled down on the tops of their heads as Madara stepped between them. Smearing some of the mud from their shaggy hair as he ruffled it under his palms. A quiet, acknowledging glance fell on Masashi, and then he moved.
The fingers coiled around her upper arm were starting to restrict blood flow as Izumi held Sakura in a white knuckle grip without realizing. Anchoring her, as if she were in danger of being swept into a riptide. Wanting to shield her from it entirely, but knowing it was a force beyond her control now.
It's not that she thought they could evade this meeting. The timing and circumstances in which it was unfolding were just so grim. No, it was never going to be pleasant, but there were a thousand factors that could have made it more bearable than this. If it had just been at any other time…
Blood and smoke wafted its telling scent over her as his black and red shadow drifted in front of them. Hovering just outside of the overhang, the drizzle collected into dew on the jagged edges of inky hair framing his face. A short gust of cold air swirled around them with his arrival. To Sakura, he was the perfect semblance of Death itself.
"Welcome home, Madara-sama." Izumi released the words as if she'd been holding her breath, bowing until her shoulders were parallel with the ground. "Please forgive the outburst. This wasn't at all how I meant for Sakura to be introduced."
The leader of the Uchiha stood in silence. Watching the dark brown hair dangle in the air between them as Izumi remained frozen in her bow. Waiting, it appeared, for permission to rise. They both knew she didn't need it, but he wouldn't remind her now. He considered her for a moment, and then looked to the stoic and unnaturally pale woman by her side.
"Not much surprises me anymore..." He stated ambiguously, leaving the sentence unfinished. Scrutinizing Sakura with growing curiosity, though she could read no more expression on his face than he could on hers. The only subtle difference between them was the dull sheen of her clammy skin. A cold sweat, along with the pallor, that revealed nothing he didn't expect to find. A reasonable enough reaction for any woman so deep in enemy territory.
The shinobi accompanying him fixed an unforgiving glare on Sakura. Simmering in restrained animosity that strengthened the longer he stood there. Or rather, the longer she stood.
"The few Senju I have laid eyes on in this village have been in the interrogation cell." A deep rumble mused, almost to himself. "How is it that you came to freely roam our streets?"
"Sakura has been staying with me. She is a refugee from the camp Izuna-sama invaded, she is no threat to us–" Izumi implored gently.
"Thank you, Izumi…but I think the refugee can speak for herself." He interrupted coolly with a subtle, but snide emphasis on the description she chose to use. His clan did not keep refugees.
"I am from the Senju camp, like she said. Your brother might offer a better explanation than I can… I was not given a choice." She spoke softly, straining to appear poised, but sensing she wasn't doing the best job. Offering only as little as she could to satisfy his questioning. Every so often, her eyes flickered to the front of his battleworn armor. Particularly, to the smear of a bloodied handprint that painted down his chest. Weathered by a few days' time, but still as striking to her as a fresh one would be.
"Do the Senju no longer bow to their superiors?" The shinobi next to him asked suddenly. Unable to suffer what he considered such blatant contempt any longer. His eyes bore into the woman in front of him, giving her one chance to respond appropriately.
Sakura hesitated, a shiver running up her spine. The cold was in her bones now, and her muscles ached with tension. She knew what she was doing. Even more, she knew it was probably a mistake. Yet it didn't sway her. It didn't make her bend in deference, like she should have. Perhaps Izuna was right when he sneered at her apparent lack of self-preservation…but some things were worth the risk to defend. Like honor.
Bowing was something she could not do. Not to him. Every fiber of her being revolted against the idea.
"I always bow to my superiors." The words whispered from her lips in spite of her fear for their consequence.
The dark shades of their clan uniform drifted both into her periphery and behind Madara. The rest of the men were among them now. Some spared them their attention, but many more watched from a considerate distance. Stopping in their tracks as they became invested in the outcome of what was unfolding. The only sound between their many footsteps was the occasional delirious groan from a passing stretcher.
She avoided their eyes. The pair before her was more than enough to withstand.
The shinobi glared hatefully, reading between the lines with ease. The corner of his mouth twitched, lip curling briefly. He hissed in cold fury a single word–'Insolence'-and the hand resting on the grip of his sword twitched at his hip. Thumb jutting upward beneath the guard, a short strip of metal glinted free from the scabbard with a faint click.
Izumi dropped to the ground between them, smacking into the mud without a second thought as she fell into the lowest bow she could physically manage. It startled all three of them. "Please! Forgive Sakura! She hasn't been feeling well since she arrived! This adjustment has been very difficult for her!"
"Izumi…" She murmured, brow wrinkling in regret at the selfless display. A moving gesture, but it was wasted on her. This was no tactless blunder she would try to excuse. She couldn't bring herself to placate the egos of undeserving men, even while her own instinct screamed for her to reconsider. She would own the repercussions. Whatever they were. She'd never met Madara before, but if he was anything like Butsuma, she didn't imagine there would be much leniency. The thought made her blood run cold, but the decision was already made.
"I cannot bow…to a man covered…in the blood of my own people." She asserted with halting words. Terrified to finish the sentence, but resolved to offer no apology.
She tore her gaze with effort from the prostrated woman, scraping enough courage to will herself to meet his eyes once more. When she did, her chin tilted higher.
This wasn't arrogance. She felt neither brave, nor accomplished in being as daring as she was. Contrary to such boldness, she felt like little more than a desiccated leaf in the dead of winter, ready to disintegrate at the slightest touch.
Madara's eyes narrowed on her. In the fleeting moments she was granted to try and discern what he was thinking, she couldn't find any anger. Nothing close to the wrath she'd been dished already by a five year-old. Either he was unaffected, or much more skilled at concealing his emotions. She suspected the latter, though she couldn't be sure.
"Then we will add yours to it." A low growl promised in place of their leader's silence as the sword unsheathed in a flash of steel.
Sakura flinched. Panic flooded through her, but she held still. Keeping Madara's gaze, and for a split second, wholly believing it to be the last thing she would ever see. Izumi's head snapped up in horror, but if she intended to become a human shield for the second time that day, she had little time to decide, and no time to react.
A mud-slicked glove swept between the two, barring the sword from striking–and he knew it would. His men did not make idle threats.
"Madara-sama…" The shinobi's reflexes snapped him back a step, and he angled the blade safely away from the forearm he came too close to slicing through. If he hadn't reeled himself in quick enough, the shame of such a transgression would have crippled him. He squinted at the long black sleeve, and followed its length to the flinty stare that never left the woman across from them.
"You would endure such disrespect?"
"I'm not interested in her insincerity." He explained, milking the reserves of his patience. "A man who accepts a disingenuous show of respect is deserving of none. Let her speak plainly."
"I understand…" The shinobi began. Grip tightening on the sword that remained free as it drifted down against his side. "It is a noble sentiment, but I would caution against tolerating this kind of behavior, especially with an audience as large as this. It is unbecoming of a clan leader." He counseled candidly, though he was careful to keep his voice low and private. In turn, it shed some light on the rank he must possess, to be able to speak so openly.
"I will decide nothing until I speak with my brother on the matter." He intoned, leaving no room for discussion.
The shinobi shifted in restless disapproval, but he held his tongue, and returned him a single nod.
"You said she is staying with you, Izumi?"
"Yes!" The Uchiha sprang up the sound of her name. Arms, chest, and strips of her hair were soaked with muddy water. Something that would have disgusted and annoyed her not long ago, but she barely registered it now. A sliver of hope had presented itself, and she would latch onto with a death grip.
"Take her home and keep her there until further notice."
"Yes! Of course!" Snatching up Sakura's wrist, she was careful to bestow one last bow to each of the men. A wordless acknowledgement for their patience and understanding. The most she could politely offer in such a delicate situation. She wasn't about to test them by outstaying her welcome, or voicing an opinion they didn't request. This was not the time and place, regardless of how she really felt.
"Sakura, let's go." She whispered too hastily, and tugged the woman behind her as she hurried them out from the shop entrance and into the road. Conscientious of staying along its edge, to avoid getting in the way of the men that continued trickling in through the fog all around them.
"Izumi, I–"
"Please, don't… Don't say anything. Not until we get home." Nervous glances bounced with uncertainty to the villages they zipped by. It wasn't said in anger, but they needed to get out of the blinding spotlight that had been affixed to them for the past way-too-many minutes. The Uchiha didn't catch what anyone was murmuring, but she heard the voices, and they were everywhere. Her imagination could fill in the blanks just fine.
The silt had been stirred, and she was in no mood to tread such murky waters. Least of all with a literal army of war-torn men turning their heads to follow their retreat.
Izumi's arm jerked back as she felt her human anchor dig in. She cast an apprehensive look over her shoulder, and followed Sakura's line of sight. At the end of it, she found the two little boys. Standing off to the side and out of the way. Izumi never would have noticed them on her own, intent as she was to disappear from all the prying eyes, but Sakura did…
"Sakura… We need to go." She urged in another whisper.
Two wary pairs of eyes stared back at them, fueled by vastly different emotions. Noboru's glowering was much less severe than it had been previously, but the distrust was palpable as ever. He wasn't about to scream anymore–thankfully–but she knew better than to push her luck with him. He wasn't the one she focused on, anyway.
Masashi shifted uneasily. Looking like he was close to bolting between loitering bodies and into the safety of shadows. As if the pale green beaming down at him were too much to bear. He wasn't afraid of her…but everything was so messy now. He didn't know what to do with himself, and the attention made him uncomfortable.
Before he could give in to the impulse, he froze in awe. Watching the crown of pretty pink lower before him in a bow. A deep one. The kind adults gave to other adults that were much more important than me.
The boy's mouth parted, but no sound came out. All he could do was keep staring as confusion consumed everything else inside him. No one had ever bowed to him before. Now he really didn't know what to do.
Noboru's scoff of disbelief was the last thing he heard before his older friend took off running in place of him. Disappearing into a nearby alley without bothering to wait for him to catch up.
Izumi couldn't keep the smile from creeping up her face. A timid one that was reluctant to linger, but genuine. But when she spared a glance up the street, the smile vanished.
Madara stood exactly where they left him. Intent, it seemed, on watching them until they disappeared from sight. He peered through the wavering march of men. An expressionless statue among countless red and white fans winking around him in a sea of dark fabric.
Sakura peeked up at Masashi as she rose, murmured a quiet 'thank you', and then turned away. Leaving the boy to gape as the cinching around her wrist tightened in warning. She'd posed enough of a hassle to her host for one day... It was indeed time to go, and so she let Izumi resume guiding her away.
Mercifully oblivious to the perceptive black stare that traced her until they reached her doorstep.