In the soft light of late afternoon, the conclusion of the lengthy meeting between the dignitaries of Ta No Kuni, Madara Uchiha, and Sakura Haruno marked the beginning of a new chapter. The two Shinobi made their way through the majestic corridors of the Daimyô's residence, escorted by a silent handmaiden whose discreet presence lent an aura of mystery.
Once their weapons were returned and formalities completed, Madara opted for a veil of Genjutsu, subtly concealing his face from prying eyes. Masked thus, he remained identifiable yet elusive, a nomadic anonymity within the corridors of power. As they exited the meeting room, other residents of the palace respectfully stepped aside in their path, recognizing in them the emissaries of the highest importance, invited to the Lord's table.
After a short stroll through the opulent halls, the humble and attentive handmaiden respectfully indicated their quarters, her bowed posture expressing the devotion of a subordinate. Her words, infused with muted politeness, underscored the Daimyô's particular attention to their needs.
"Here are your quarters, my lords," she announced with a slight bow. "Two servants have been made available to assist you during tonight's meal. Do you have any particular requirements?"
Madara, accustomed to such formalities, responded with calculated nonchalance, dismissing the handmaiden with a vague gesture. However, Sakura, sensing a departure from his usual courtesy, felt a shiver of surprise down her spine. Once, he would have been more polite, more attentive to her. But times had changed, and with them, the once impetuous man had transformed into an enigma. The handmaiden bowed deeply before withdrawing, leaving Sakura to conceal her disquiet behind a mask of indifference.
"I have some reservations about leaving you alone," Sakura admitted softly once they were alone.
"Do not worry, Sakura-san. Everything will be fine," reassured Madara, turning to face her. "You were remarkable during the meeting."
At his words, a faint blush tinted Sakura's cheeks as she lowered her eyes, embarrassed.
"Thank you, but I can't help but worry," she objected. "Your physical condition does not permit you to be alone. You could be an easy target for determined enemies."
Her concern for Madara was palpable. Although he had recovered his abilities, she still saw him as a potential target.
After a moment, Sakura felt a gentle hand lift her chin to meet Madara's intense gaze. A slight smile played on his lips, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something that deeply unsettled her, leaving her speechless.
"I am grateful for your concern, Sakura-san," murmured Madara, delicately brushing his thumb against her chin. She had exquisitely soft skin. "Enjoy the comfort the Daimyô offers us. You have earned it."
"Understood," Sakura finally murmured, still troubled. "But do not immerse your left arm in water," she insisted suddenly. "If you ever need me, send a chakra signal, and I will come immediately."
At the sound of those words, Madara released Sakura's chin before entering the room assigned to him and closing the door behind him. Sakura found herself alone in the hallway, staring at the closed door.
As the scene unfolded, two women observed in silence. Their distinguished attire betrayed their status: although handmaidens, they were tasked with ensuring the well-being of the Daimyô and his guests, justifying their elegance.
However, what they had just witnessed had deeply shocked them. The mere participation of this woman in the council meeting was remarkable enough. Add to that her wielding of a katana, an undeniable sign of her martial expertise, and her bold retort to a man, and you had an extraordinary scene. The two women almost expected a reprimand or a gesture of contempt from the man, but nothing of the sort occurred.
They wondered if this woman was exceptional or if the man before her was unusually flexible. Although they did not know her identity, her presence, charisma, and aura exuded undeniable greatness.
Before they could continue their speculation, the young woman with pink hair entered the room, closing the door behind her.
"Good morning, Sakura-sama," respectfully greeted the two women, bowing deeply. Their gestures denoted precise instruction regarding the importance of this lady and the respect owed to her. The mere fact that she had a last name placed her in influential, even noble circles. Their astonishment was palpable when she, in turn, bowed respectfully.
"Good morning, ladies," replied Sakura, gently unfastening her katana from her back. Although she had no need of it at the moment, she felt duty-bound to carry it. She carefully placed it on a stand to her left before turning to the two waiting handmaidens.
"How can we assist you, Sakura-sama?" asked the elder of the two, expressing a devotion tinged with respect.
"Oh, it won't be necessary, I assure you," Sakura replied, feeling uncomfortable. She was not accustomed to being the center of such attention, and the presence of these women at her service troubled her.
"On the contrary, a woman should always be showcased, especially when a man shows interest in her," added the brunette handmaiden, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her experience allowed her to grasp subtleties.
"Indeed, but no man is interested in me," Sakura replied firmly. "I belong to no one."
"Yet, we have noticed..." began the younger of the two, whose blonde hair reminded Sakura of her former best friend, Ino Yamanaka.
"That's not what you think," Sakura cut in sharply. "I am a free and independent woman."
A quick glance around the room revealed to Sakura a beautiful kimono, carefully arranged and ready to be worn, as well as a silver basin from which a light steam emanated. As they continued their conversation, Sakura began to remove the gloves that covered her hands. This seemingly mundane gesture did not escape the two handmaidens, who hastened to assist her.
"Allow us to assist you, Sakura-sama," offered the brunette handmaiden with a solicitous tone.
"No, I assure you I can manage on my own," insisted Sakura, placing her belongings near her weapon, thus asserting her autonomy.
"Please, Sakura-sama, we are at your disposal."
"Stop with the 'sama' and address me freely," ordered Sakura. She longed for genuine interaction with other women, away from rigid formalities and rehearsed responses. "Speak to me as if I were... a comrade, a friend."
Sakura received in return a smile from the blonde and a nod from the brunette as she stood bare-chested before these two women. She felt uncomfortable exposing her body to two perfect strangers.
"What's this?" asked Hana, noticing the numerous symbols drawn at various places on her body, particularly on her forearms.
"They are seals of Fûinjutsu," replied Sakura as the blonde handmaiden traced the symbols on her wrist with her fingertips.
"Does it hurt?" inquired Hana, ignorant of the nuances of Fûinjutsu. Although she had received an education in line with women's expectations, all these symbols seemed obscure to her.
"No, it doesn't hurt," reassured Sakura as the second handmaiden removed her pants. "And what about you, what is your name?"
"I am Amaya," automatically responded the brunette, examining Sakura's body with scrutiny. Sakura suddenly felt uneasy and attempted to cover her chest with her hand, but Amaya prevented her. "Do not be ashamed of your body, Madame."
"It has always been a complex for me," Sakura admitted, observing the more ample forms of the two handmaidens.
"It is true that men are often attracted to women with pronounced curves," conceded Amaya as she guided Sakura to the bath. "But remember the teachings instilled in you, Madame. If a woman manages to satisfy her husband in every possible way, he will not care about her imperfections."
Amaya's words deeply irritated Sakura. Not because of herself, but because of the restrictive norms imposed on women: they were shaped to become mere objects of pleasure, destined to serve their husbands' desires, without any other consideration.
"I have never received such teachings... and I find them shameful for us, women," declared Sakura firmly, eliciting confusion from the other two.
"Madame should not speak like this... Madame could face reprisals, or worse, be killed if a man were to hear such words," retorted Amaya, a hint of fear perceptible in her gaze. The fear that someone might have overheard Sakura's words through the door was evident on her face.
"You shall always be tended! Always obedient shall you be! A devoted wife to your husband shall you become! Remember this, my daughter, for thus shall they make you a fulfilled woman!" recited Hana like a nursery rhyme. "If you ever marry, make him happy and give him children!"
"But it's not fair!" protested Sakura as she stepped into the bath prepared by the two handmaidens. The warm water enveloped her pleasantly, quickly soothing her tensions.
A handmaiden settled on each side of her, taking sponges to begin her bath. Their movements were gentle, imbued with softness, as if they had performed this task their entire lives.
"But we are only women, Madame," replied Amaya as she scrubbed Sakura's legs. "Our role in life is to ensure the well-being of our men, to support them, to relieve them, and to perpetuate their lineage."
"To distinguish ourselves and attract a suitable husband, we must develop our talents. We learn dance, music, we perfect the art of sewing, and above all, we seek to be beautiful and desirable," added Hana with a timid smile.
"I disagree, you are not destined to obey men only. We are human beings, with emotions, aspirations. We are just as capable of feeling, of rising, of fighting as men!"
"Why bother?" asked the blonde, who was massaging Sakura's shoulders with impressive skill, leaving her in an irresistible state of relaxation.
"Are you truly fulfilled in your current life, girls?" Sakura finally asked, perplexed by their apparent acceptance of exploitation by men.
"Yes," said the two women in unison. "There is nothing in the world that could make a woman happier than this kind of life."
At this declaration, Sakura had a brutal realization: most women of this era seemed to be trapped in a form of Stockholm syndrome. They had been conditioned from a young age to believe that this existence was the pinnacle of female happiness, even if it was a lie. By repeating to themselves every day that they were destined for this path, they ended up accepting it, even if it went against their true happiness. It was as if they were chained by ideals passed down from generation to generation. The horror of this realization seized Sakura, confronting her with the cruel truth of women's condition at this time.
"Shh, a woman should not shed tears for happiness," murmured Hana into Sakura's ear.
"I'm so sorry for you," whispered Sakura, letting a tear roll down her cheek. The realization of the female condition in the Sengoku era, combined with the stress of the afternoon, gently overwhelmed her.
"Don't cry, Sakura-sama," said Hana, gently wiping her tears from her cheeks, then offering a radiant smile. "You are so much more radiant when you smile."
"I..." Sakura began, but Hana delicately placed her finger on her lips, politely urging her to be silent.
"Close your eyes and let us take care of you," murmured Hana. Exhausted, Sakura didn't have the strength to refuse and closed her eyes.
She found herself inadvertently enjoying this moment, the skilled hands of the servants delicately traversing her body. Sakura then wondered if Madara received the same treatment. Blushing at the thought, a hint of jealousy crept in at the idea of another woman touching him in the same way.
After about twenty minutes of care, Sakura finally emerged from the water, wrapped in a period robe. Amaya took her hand and led her to a piece of furniture against the wall. On this piece of furniture, a mirror was surrounded by a multitude of hairdressing and makeup tools, typical of a hairdresser from that time. Although less common in her time, it was mainly associated with brothels.
This time, Amaya took charge of brushing her hair while the blonde applied cream to her body.
"Why all this?" asked Sakura.
"Madame wielding the sword has soft skin, but not soft enough," replied Amaya, gently brushing Sakura's hair. "If Madame desires to seduce her lord, she must be flawless."
"I have no suitor," repeated Sakura.
"Would Madame allow me to speak frankly?" asked Amaya, pausing the hairbrushing to start braiding her hair into an elegant bun.
"Of course," replied Sakura, watching the brunette woman through the mirror in front of her.
"Why does Madame act dishonorably by behaving like a man, with a weapon in her back, when she has a suitor who seems to have eyes only for her?" questioned Amaya, receiving a response about thirty seconds later.
"Because there is no dishonor in wanting to protect those you love. Unlike you who see it as dishonorable, I am capable of defending my family against an enemy. I will not cower in the face of adversity, and I will be strong for the man I love, so I can support and protect him," declared Sakura passionately, disregarding the latter part of Amaya's question. Sakura truly stood out from the women of this era, solely due to her exceptional will, forged in a time when attitudes had evolved. A will forged through Tsunade and all those who had believed in her.
Amaya ceased her hairdressing movements and joined Sakura at her side, locking her gaze with hers.
"What you just said is futile to you, Sakura. I don't know the identity of the man you were interacting with earlier, but I would exchange lives to capture even a fraction of the attention he gives you," declared Amaya, a woman of thirty who had gained some experience with men. "He shows you respect... I have never seen a man show such delicacy and courtesy to a woman. I struggle to conceive how you could respond to such regard inadequately."
A slight blush appeared on Sakura's cheeks in response to this revelation.
"Ayama-chan is right, Sakura-sama," intervened Hana, who was busy filing Sakura's nails. "The high-born man accompanying you is remarkably impressive. His stature, his charisma, his presence... They all betray his importance."
"That's true... He is... very important," conceded Sakura, averting her gaze from Amaya. "He means a lot to me."
Yes, this man had a special place in her life, a place she didn't want to see falter. But from affection to love, there was an insurmountable gap. Sakura had always chased the ghosts of childish love, leaving behind the slippery ground of the subtle nuances of adult attraction.
Lost in her thoughts, Sakura noticed Amaya heading towards the door. The latter opened it, glanced quickly left and right before clapping her hands twice.
"Amaya-sama?" questioned a female voice from the other side.
"Bring me cherry blossoms from the garden... quickly, quickly!" urged Amaya. Sakura heard the hurried footsteps receding down the hallway. The door closed softly, bringing Amaya back to Sakura's side.
"I assure you, Madame, once we have put the finishing touches on your appearance, he will only succumb to your charm," murmured the brunette, as she began working on makeup while waiting for the precious cherry blossoms for the hairstyle.
"But our relationship is not just about that," refuted Sakura as the thirty-year-old delicately dusted her forehead and cheeks with light powder. Suddenly, Hana and Amaya interrupted their gestures to exchange a knowing look. Then, a crystalline laughter burst between them. "Why are you laughing?" asked Sakura, surprised.
"Your innocence, Sakura-sama," replied Hana while continuing to massage the young woman's hands. A contagious laughter then took hold of the room, where two women teasingly mocked the third who refused to acknowledge her feelings for the man in the adjacent room.
After about ten minutes, a light knock came at the door, and the brunette hurriedly got up to answer it.
"Amaya-sama, here they are," announced a soft voice.
"Thank you!" replied the brunette before closing the door behind her. Returning to the dresser, she placed a basket filled with cherry blossoms. Then, heading towards the carefully arranged kimono nearby.
The kimono was an exquisite piece of fabric, a shimmer of silk in a pale pink so light it bordered on white, evoking the purity of womanhood. This delicate hue harmonized beautifully with Sakura's hair, emphasizing her femininity and the softness of her features. A wide rose-red sash, placed at the waist, evoked feminine passion. The kimono collars were hemmed in immaculate white, embellished with fine embroideries, adding a touch of complexity to the ensemble.
Hana took Sakura's hand, prompting her to rise from her chair to guide her towards the kimono. She delicately removed her robe, leaving her only in her undergarments. With the help of the two women, Sakura was adorned in a sumptuous kimono that, she had to admit, made her look stunning.
Facing her reflection in the mirror, she struggled to recognize herself. Every detail of her outfit, her makeup, her gestures, her eyes, even the shade of her hair, all conspired to make her a princess.
Once dressed, Amaya once again accompanied the young woman to the chair, ready to start the hairstyle with Hana's help. Observing these two women by her side, Sakura couldn't ignore their palpable happiness in their actions. She felt like a stranger in their world, a prisoner of her vastly different past.
Sakura came from a time when women enjoyed almost the same rights as men. Contemplating this tableau of happiness, she questioned her legitimacy to judge these women, and especially how she could consider their values defective when the two women claimed to be happy. After all, poor children found happiness in simple ball games, while others couldn't have fun without the latest gaming console. Wasn't this an analogy with their situation? Who was she to deprive these women of the happiness they felt in their condition? Thus, through an act of tolerance, Sakura temporarily accepted that these women were satisfied with what she herself, Sakura, considered a form of unhappiness. She would take all the time necessary to awaken their consciousness and show them the pleasures of freedom.
"You are radiant, Sakura-sama," complimented Hana as she admired her in the mirror. So absorbed in her thoughts, Sakura didn't realize that the two women had finished preparing her. She brought her hand to her mouth, bewildered. The cherry blossoms, used to adorn her bun, framed her clear face. Every detail enhanced her, and she felt so beautiful that a tear welled up in the corner of her eye.
"Don't cry, Madame! From now on, you have no right to shed a single tear," intervened Amaya firmly.
"Thank you so much, Hana-san, Amaya-san," Sakura thanked, still stunned by the work done by the two women.
"If you wish to express your gratitude to us, Madame..." Amaya began, fixing Sakura in the mirror. "For this evening, set aside your warrior status. Allow the beautiful woman within you to express herself. Let your true essence shine, for a beauty like yours deserves to be admired by all. Yes, by doing so, you will honor us and also satisfy our Daimyô."
Sakura didn't respond, simply taking the fan offered by the brunette. Rising, she headed towards the door just as the sound of a bell rang through the estate, announcing the approach of the meal.
"One last request," Sakura added, turning to the two servants. She knew of Madara's challenge, being able to use only one arm and categorically refusing to show any weakness in public. "The man accompanying me detests having to cut his meat himself. Could you inform the cooks of this, please?"
"It will be done, Sakura-sama," the blonde said with a wide smile.
The door opened, revealing Madara already waiting in the hallway. He wore a black kimono, enhanced with blood-red collars that matched perfectly with his ebony hair. His hair was neatly tied into a high ponytail, held by a matching red ribbon. A stray lock fell on the right side of his face, partially concealing his blind eye. An aura of power emanated from him, unsettling Sakura's mind as she couldn't help but find him truly handsome.
"My dear..." Madara greeted with a voice filled with admiration as he gazed at Sakura.
According to tradition, Madara extended his arm towards Sakura, inviting her to slip hers in his to accompany him to the dining hall. They advanced for about ten minutes in this manner. Every person they passed respectfully stepped aside and bowed before such majesty. Regardless of who they were, these two individuals displayed a royal attitude.
With confidence, Madara and Sakura entered a vast hall, where a long rectangular table stood in the center, easily accommodating thirty guests without any difficulty.
Already, many guests had taken their seats in the hall, chatting peacefully as they awaited the start of the meal. The array of kimono colors was eclectic, and the abundant presence of women testified to the convivial nature of the event, far from being a mere business meeting. If it had been, Sakura would likely have been the only woman present.
Yet, despite the festive and relaxed atmosphere, the seating arrangement of the guests was of paramount importance. A misplacement could lead to diplomatic incidents. The gazes turned towards them upon their arrival, some men captivated by Sakura's splendor, other women envious of such a specimen.
"Ah, Lord-dono, what joy to have you among us this evening," began the Daimyô with a wide smile, before turning his gaze towards Sakura. "I must admit, the woman accompanying you is of a beauty to make one jealous."
"Almost, Daimyô-dono," Madara replied kindly, casting a glance at his companion. "You yourself, however, are not lacking with the delightful creature by your side."
"Have I neglected my duties?" exclaimed the Daimyô suddenly, straightening up. "Lord-dono, Sakura-dono, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Yumi Shôta." He took the hand of a woman, still beautiful despite her forty years. Her red hair, akin to blood, made Madara wonder if she had any ties to the Uzumaki clan. The three bowed to each other respectfully.
After a few minutes of exchanges, introductions, and compliments addressed to most of the council members, the Daimyô finally clapped his hands to attract the attention of the assembly.
"To the table!" roared Hashuba, and everything was organized in an instant. The Daimyô sat at the head, flanked by Madara on his right, Sakura, his wife Yumi, and his heir Daiki. To his left, a row of familiar faces: Suzuki, Rômaji, Taisho, Riku, each accompanied by their spouse. The rest of the assembly consisted of a multitude of nobles and prominent figures from Ta No Kuni.
The dishes arrived, carried by a cohort of servants gliding in the shadows, attentive to the guests' every need. A simple nod, and a servant appeared to fill a cup.
From the first dishes served, Sakura noted Madara's subtle gesture, resting his left arm on the table.
"Tell me, how long do you plan to stay with us?"
"We will probably leave tomorrow afternoon, to replenish your treasury," replied Madara, savoring every bite of red tuna sashimi served to him.
"How long before we see you again?"
"Hard to say," replied Madara calmly, his gaze briefly glancing towards Sakura, engaged in conversation with the Daimyô's wife. "I will probably contact you in the same way as the first time."
Rômaji, seated across from him, raised an eyebrow. "And if we ever need to contact you?"
"It's better to avoid contacting us. But I can assure you that we will be available when you need us."
"Good," concluded Hashuba before turning to Suzuki to discuss something else.
Madara picked up his cup and raised it to shoulder level. Barely a second later, a servant was present, ready to fill it. When it reached the ideal weight, Madara raised two of his fingers to signal the servant to stop.
"Daimyô-dono," began Madara, taking a sip of his drink before continuing, "I believe it would be wise, for our enterprise, to consider renaming your capital. After all, you aspire to become a neutral country," explained Madara in a low voice, glancing around to ensure his words remained confidential despite the ambient buzz of the meal. "For this, we must make the world understand. Renaming your city would reinforce this vision."
"Is there a particular name that comes to mind?" inquired Hashuba, his curiosity piqued by Madara's proposal.
"Yes, I have thought about it carefully: Heiwa," replied Madara confidently, as he helped himself to a plate of Kobe beef placed in front of him.
"Heiwa," repeated Hashuba, savoring the word as if weighing the pros and cons. Literally meaning 'peace.'
"Exactly," confirmed Madara, nodding slightly. "I believe that would send a strong message, an ideal towards which we could strive in the future."
Hashuba nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It may not be for right now, but it's an intriguing prospect," he conceded, reaching for some already opened crustaceans in front of him.
The evening stretched peacefully, enveloped in an atmosphere of conviviality and rejoicing. Occasionally, Madara exchanged a few words with the Daimyô, trivialities that seemed to carry little importance. As dessert approached, Sakura, noticing Madara's silence for several minutes, gently placed her hand on his.
"Is everything okay?" she asked with a solicitous voice.
Madara turned his gaze to the assembly, then replied carefully, "Yes."
"You seem a little distracted," Sakura insisted, her eyes expressing a slight concern.
Perhaps it was the relaxation of the moment, or perhaps simply the fact that it was she who asked him, but Madara leaned slightly towards her, whispering in her ear.
"I must admit, I'm not really comfortable in these kinds of events. I sincerely miss the tranquility and serenity of our dinners together," whispered Madara, as the desserts were cleared and the end of the evening finally seemed to be approaching.
"Try to remind yourself that it's almost over," Sakura whispered back with comforting sweetness.
Finally, after a moment that seemed to stretch, the Daimyô announced the end of the meal, releasing the guests for the evening.
"Daimyô-dono," Sakura and Madara said in unison, catching his attention before he departed with his wife.
"Good night to both of you," he replied with a slight smile, before walking away with his companion.
The two shinobi made their way peacefully to their apartment, traversing the silent corridors as the night advanced and the Daimyô's residence gradually fell asleep. After a few minutes, they finally reached their respective rooms, carefully arranged for their comfort.
"I wish you a good night, Sakura-san," Madara murmured as he opened the door to his room.
"Who says I'm done with you?" Sakura whispered mischievously before entering. "Don't forget you haven't had your daily care yet."
A slight smile stretched Madara's lips as he followed Sakura into her room. From the outside, they could have been mistaken for a couple preparing to spend an evening together. With caution, the young woman helped him out of his kimono, revealing his bare chest after a few moments.
"Lie down," Sakura ordered, pointing to the bed, whose imposing size testified to the prestigious status of the room.
Madara obeyed, lying comfortably on the bed as Sakura began their medical ritual, her movements precise under the attentive gaze of her patient.
"Stop staring at me like that," Sakura whispered, feeling Madara's intense gaze on her for a few minutes.
"Why?" he whispered back, his eyes captivated by Sakura's beauty that evening. It wasn't just her usual beauty, but something more, an aura of grace and femininity that literally hypnotized him.
"It makes me uncomfortable," Sakura replied, blushing as she finished her treatments. Once finished, she rose to move towards the room's screen. With a fluid movement, she removed her kimono before summoning comfortable clothes with one of her Fûinjustu seals.
Dressed in black silk pajamas, Sakura lay down next to Madara, visibly exhausted.
"This day has exhausted me..."
"Is what you told the Daimyô true?" Madara asked, as the room enveloped in darkness, the candle extinguished by Sakura.
"About what exactly?" Sakura asked, a slight frown betraying her confusion.
"About women being more skilled than men in this medical art?" Madara reformulated, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes," Sakura replied after a moment of reflection. "You could probably do what I do, but not at my level. Why? Because you have considerable chakra reserves within you, and to practice Iryô Ninjutsu, you must have an extraordinary chakra control... a control that is much easier to acquire starting with a smaller reserve. Moreover, this type of manipulation requires calmness, and many men tend to give in to anger."
"I understand better now," Madara acknowledged, appreciating the clarity brought by Sakura's explanations.
Madara heard Sakura yawn beside him, an obvious sign of her fatigue. Without really thinking, he slipped his arm under the young woman's neck, gently pulling her closer to him. Sakura, surprised by this gesture, found herself against Madara's chest, a sensation both strange and comforting.
"Good night... Sakura-san," Madara murmured, his words blending into the silence as he slowly drifted into sleep.
Sakura, unsure of how to react, allowed herself to lean against him. Although her heart was pounding in this unexpected situation, she couldn't deny the sense of security she felt in Madara's arms. Without resistance, she nestled against him, finding a certain form of comfort in his presence.
"Good night," she replied softly, letting sleep overwhelm her in Madara's embrace.