The Cycle of Hatred.
Sakura was inexorably plunging into the intricacies of this infamous cycle, an experience that unveiled the dark secrets governing the world of shinobi since time immemorial. She stepped into the shoes of those driven by relentless vengeance, who had shed blood in the name of hatred. Cities, even entire civilizations, had crumbled under the weight of this burning desire for retribution.
Yet, the young woman was aware of the peril that hatred posed, an uncontrollable emotional torrent. Not only did it grant devouring power to those who fed it, but it also had the ability to overwhelm the mind, pushing the victim to commit the unthinkable before facing its relentless consequences.
Sakura had witnessed Sasuke's descent into this devastating whirlwind, his vision obscured by a hatred so intense that it had blinded him to the truth. He let reason freeze, focusing his mind on the certainties he had chosen to accept, ignoring the rest.
In a subtle way, had she not herself succumbed to the whirlwind of hatred by annihilating that loathsome Zetsu worm? However, Sakura was too immersed in the tumult of her own emotions to grasp this reality. The pangs of her own anger consumed her, manifesting in the tight lines on her face, the tension in her limbs, and the fierce gleam in her eyes.
The question haunted her mind: would quenching her thirst for vengeance be an irreversible fall into the cycle of hatred? Or, on the contrary, a means to break it? After all, was it not the deserved punishment for the one who had led to the loss of all her loved ones? Despite her boiling rage, a insightful thought managed to pierce through the tumult of her emotions. I am worth more than him.
Because, in the end, wouldn't destroying the one who caused all her pain bring her down to his level? This thought did not find favor in the young woman's eyes, even if it was simply to soothe her own ego.
She was torn from her thoughts upon seeing the source of her hatred coughing up a little blood. He was drowning in his own life fluids, and without intervention, death was inevitable. It was Sakura's moment to break her stupor and demonstrate that she stood apart from this man.
Kneeling before him, she focused chakra at her fingertips, shaping a scalpel under the wary gaze of the Uchiha. With surgical precision, she cut the remaining straps of his half-destroyed armor. Once the fastenings were severed, she briskly tore off the top of his armor, throwing it aside. A groan of pain escaped Madara's lips in response to this action.
Sakura grabbed the linen top at the base of his neck, precisely cutting through the bloodstained garment, thus revealing the battered chest of the brunet. Countless cuts, seemingly minor, adorned his skin, but Sakura's keen observation and the labored rise of his chest indicated that one of the lungs was likely punctured, or at least severely damaged.
"W... Who... are... you?" articulated Madara with obvious difficulty.
Multiple questions swirled in his mind as he scrutinized the figure above him. Sakura's actions seemed to testify to her willingness to aid him. But why? After all, through her gaze, he had discerned the anger and hatred that consumed her! So, what was the motivation that drove her to attempt to save him?
The woman with pink hair placed her rudimentary bag on the rocky ground, embarking on a silent quest inside. From her skilled hands, she extracted a stainless steel rod followed by a cannula. Gently placing the object on Madara's bloodied chest, she positioned the rod on the anterior surface of his neck, between the second and fourth cartilaginous rings, ensuring to stay well below the vocal cords.
"Keep your breath!" commanded Sakura in an authoritative voice, her face revealing intense concentration.
For Madara, these actions were entirely unprecedented. Medical practice was not common in this ancient era, allowing minor wounds to easily transform into lethal threats. Despite this, perhaps due to the blood loss or the sense of having everything to gain, he complied with surprising obedience. He breathed as best as he could, holding his breath, feeling a slight pain in his neck as something was inserted.
"Keep your head straight, exhale in three, two, one..."
As she proceeded with her countdown, Sakura sealed off access to the second lung, a simple pressure of her fingers to the right of the cannula sufficing. The young woman had just performed a tracheotomy, thus offering Madara the opportunity to breathe artificially with his left lung while the right one was put on hold, saturated with blood.
The medic swiftly pulled a flask from her bag, hastily opening it to pour a significant amount of liquid over her victim's chest. Unfortunately, the falling rain was not sufficient to illuminate the wound properly. Once the injury was exposed, her expert eye, a product of her knowledge and preparation, instantly identified which part of the heart had been affected during the battle.
"Damn it!" cursed Sakura before settling astride Madara.
Leaning forward, she acted as a shield against the rain, thus preserving her meticulous work. Concentrating chakra into her index finger, it glowed with a greenish tint. She positioned it precisely around Madara's cardiac area. Each press of her finger elicited a grimace from the brunet.
"Don't look," she ordered sternly.
Under normal circumstances, this type of procedure was performed on a sedated patient, and that's why she insisted on looking away, as not everyone could endure such a sight. Sakura flattened her hand to reactivate her Chakura no Mesu technique, thereby reforming a chakra scalpel. Positioning her hand perpendicular to Madara's chest, she initiated an eight-centimeter incision at the heart level.
Despite the woman's strict directives, Madara attentively observed her effort to save his life. He had never witnessed such skill, every move executed with an assurance and precision that hinted at much broader experience. He was convinced: this was not the first time she had performed such interventions. Strangely, the pain that had tormented his chest seemed to have disappeared, as if she had severed access to his nerves. Where did this woman come from, capable of performing such acts, and, most importantly, who had passed on these skills to her?
"I will have to stop your heart for the next step!" announced Sakura, observing the blood flow from the organ. She was surprised to see that the man remained alive despite such a severe injury. His resilience seemed to result from his tenacious will, unless it was an extraordinary pride.
Upon hearing this declaration, Madara looked up at the face of the young woman above him. Pink hair, a shade he had never encountered before. Her eyes, slightly tinted with turquoise, emanated determination that reminded him of his late mother, adding a touch of softness to her pleasant face.
He felt the surge of chakra coursing through his entire being, an unmistakable sign that his heart had just been interrupted. In this state, Madara was aware that his end was fast approaching. Thus, he seized the opportunity to gaze at the soothing light emanating from the stranger's hands.
Seconds passed slowly, and gradually, his vision darkened. A helpless rage seized him, frustrated that he could not fulfill his deepest desire: peace.
As if he were witnessing the flash of his life before his eyes, another chakra surge abruptly brought him back to reality. The intensity was such that his body arched violently, a groan of pain escaping his mouth. His thoughts returned as quickly as they had dissipated, and at that moment, he realized he had been momentarily plunged into death.
"Blink if you're back."
When she observed the Uchiha blink, a profound wave of satisfaction engulfed her, attesting to the success of her intervention. Still straddling him, Sakura leaned forward, carefully examining for any damage to his skull. She gently lifted his head with one hand, exploring his skull with the other for potential injuries. Finding none, she carefully rested his head, avoiding inflicting additional pain or disturbing the cannula at his neck.
Gently pushing aside the hair from the Uchiha's right eye, she could see that it was closed, blood streaming from it abundantly.
"Open it!" commanded Sakura.
The patient complied, revealing an entirely white eye. His retina was irreversibly altered: he could never regain the use of his Sharingan. The technique he had used had sealed the fate of his ocular power.
"Wh... why... are you h-helping me?"
"Speak as little as possible... Close."
With palpable urgency, Sakura placed her hand over the damaged eye. The soothing glow emanating from her palm seemed to alleviate the Uchiha's suffering. She managed to diminish his pain, and Madara, who had never witnessed Iryô Ninjutsu in his life, considered that this might be a Kekkei Genkai.
Sakura straightened up, initiating a series of hand signs.
"Fûinjutsu: Teitai," announced Sakura before pressing her hand against the location of the damaged lung. A set of seals formed on Madara's pectoral, interrupting any additional blood flow to the lung. Once the technique was complete, Sakura stood up, satisfied with her intervention.
"OK, can you move your limbs? If not, blink your eyes twice."
Sakura noticed the slight movement of the brunet's right arm, but that was the only action Madara could perform, and by scrutinizing his eyes, she saw him blink twice.
"Damn! The sword must have caused damage to the spine," Sakura realized to herself.
She deduced that Madara was paralyzed, with only his right arm and head retaining mobility. However, the Uchiha's thoughts took a different direction. How did she know that a sword had pierced him? Was she present from the beginning of his confrontation? Did she possess such skill to discern the wound caused by a particular weapon? Or was there something else?
"Well... I'll have to carry you."
Madara couldn't have imagined a more trying day. Failure in his quest for peace, defeat against his rival, a brief passage into the realm of the dead, his survival now depending on a woman, and now, he found himself being carried like a bride. And strangely, how could this woman carry him with such ease?
"Let yourself sink into unconsciousness; you'll feel better when you wake up."
Upon reflection, Madara felt immense fatigue engulfing him, probably due to the blood loss.
In any case, Madara had never stooped to the level of a woman. In his eyes, they were only useful for bearing children and serving as a bargaining chip between clans. He was a man forged for war, for killing. A man guided by pride and will. He had never yielded to a woman, his presence usually limited to satisfying his carnal needs. Yet, in this moment of extreme vulnerability, he uttered a word he could never have imagined saying, especially to a woman.
"Th...Thank..."
The brooding brunet sank into unconsciousness, his last reserves of strength abandoning him.
Sakura walked towards her house, deep in thought. Had she made the right choice? Was this truly fulfilling the will of the Rikudô Sennin? Her gaze lingered briefly on Madara's face as she leaped from branch to branch. Asleep, his face had lost its tense features, revealing a grace and delicacy that seemed almost innocent. Nevertheless, Sakura perceived in him nothing more than a mass murderer.
Despite her parents' teachings, who asserted that no one was born a murderer but became one through learning, evolving as a human to survive, a question persisted: did Uchiha Madara have the ability to change?
With this last thought, Sakura finally reached her home. She rushed in, heading to the main hall. Spacious, it housed a low table surrounded by cushions. In the back, shelves, cabinets, and a desk overloaded with scrolls. Disliking the hardness of futons, she had opted for beds. A large bed occupied the left side of the room, offering a view outside.
She placed her patient on the bed, disregarding the water and blood that soiled the floor and sheets. Quickly throwing her belongings on the floor, she hurried to light many candles to illuminate the room.
Her first task was to remove the remainder of Madara's armor. She cut the straps holding the armor to his body. Then, she went after his clothes, tearing his linen tunic and removing his sandals and pants, leaving him only in his underwear.
Although many could have enjoyed the view offered by the man, Sakura remained impeccable in her professionalism. Nothing and no one could divert her from her duty, not even Sasuke when she had to treat him after the Fourth Great Ninja War.
"No other visible injuries on the legs..."
As she meticulously inspected Madara's body, her gaze fell on something that made her furrow her brows. His left arm seemed lifeless, devoid of vitality. She channeled chakra after placing her hands on his arm. It took her a good minute to identify the problem: his Tenketsu. Probably an attack suffered by a Jutsu or a technique that was too demanding.
His Tenketsu and chakra system were destroyed, compromising blood circulation. Without intervention, he risked losing the use of his arm.
She hurried to her desk, grabbing an inkwell and a fine brush.
For the next hour, Sakura inscribed numerous seals on Madara's left arm. These marks were meant to simulate a chakra network, allowing blood to circulate until she could resolve the internal problem.
"Well... now, the delicate part," Sakura encouraged herself before heading to a large container that she filled with water.
Returning to Madara's bedside, she placed the bowl on the nightstand. Using the same process as at the Valley of the End, she applied pressure points with her index finger to anesthetize the future operating area.
The awakening was brutal for Madara, faced with intense pain that sparked numerous questions. What had happened to him? Where was he? Why did he feel such pain? Then, everything came back to him at once... his coup, his defeat, his death, the woman who had saved his life. His gaze shifted to her, and the scene he witnessed astonished him, even impressed him.
She seemed to be treating him once again. Her right hand rested on a large wound on his lung, emitting a green glow. Her left hand was in the air, a large bubble of water attached to it, while a thin stream of water and blood connected it to his lung. Immersed in her task, she seemed unaware of his awakening, so he decided not to say anything, fearing to disturb her concentration.
Minutes passed without her moving an inch. The blood extracted from the lung became increasingly scarce before finally running out. She lowered her arm, sighing in relief as she released the blood bubble into the bowl. She then delicately placed her hands on Madara's other superficial wounds, quickly closing them, but that's where she detected another problem.
"What is this..."
At the stomach level, a foreign chakra source manifested, belonging neither to Sakura nor to Madara. Forcing the concerned person to vomit was ruled out due to the cannula in his throat, allowing him to breathe. She used pressure points again, eliciting a slight groan from Madara. Sakura looked up at the man and realized that he was awake.
"Sorry... try to go back to sleep."
Sakura used the Chakura no Mesu technique again to open Madara's stomach, followed by the stomach itself. Blood spread everywhere, a result of the old hemorrhage, and in the midst of this chaos, Sakura spotted the foreign body. A small mass of flesh that Sakura promptly removed and placed in a small container.
Drops of sweat began to bead on her forehead from repeatedly using her chakra, three hours having passed. Madara's body was now stabilized and out of danger. The only injury she hadn't treated yet was the one at his spine that seemed to paralyze him, but she would need some rest.
Among the many items Sakura had brought from the future, she was glad to have taken medical supplies. A completely bewildered look formed on Madara's face as he watched his savior stick a needle into his arm, connected to a strange tube. It was attached to a translucent water pouch placed on a metal stand.
"Sleep," murmured Sakura, placing her hand on Uchiha's temple, who felt immense fatigue invading him at the touch of her chakra. Forced to fall asleep, he had one last thought. * Who is she? *
Sakura then slumped into a chair beside Madara, exhausted. Proud of her work, she allowed herself to close her eyes for a few moments, a few minutes, maybe even the whole night, so deep was the exhaustion.
Day 1
The rain had subsided during the night, allowing the sun's rays to gently caress Madara's face. The warmth seeped slowly into his body, and when the light touched his still-valid eye, he woke up gradually. His gaze scanned the surroundings, but the place was unfamiliar, and his mysterious savior was nowhere to be found. He spotted his belongings, placed in a corner, still stained with blood. Everything was there: his armor, his clothes, and even his Gunbai rested against the wall.
He felt... strange.
He attempted to observe his own body but forgot about the object still present in his throat. A groan of pain escaped his mouth, and at that moment, he heard footsteps coming from a corridor. The stranger entered the room, dressed in a pale pink tunic and white pants. Her pink hair was tied in a bun, revealing her face.
Seeing her, Madara furrowed his brow at a detail he hadn't noticed the previous day: since when did women wear anything other than robes or kimonos?
"Ah! You're awake," she declared in a neutral voice, approaching him. "Don't try to speak; I'll first remove the tube from your throat and restore access to your lungs."
Sakura quickly removed the plastic object, closing the small wound with her green chakra.
"When I tell you, take a deep breath. Three, two, one..."
At the end of her countdown, Sakura released his first lung so he could breathe through his mouth again. A deep cough seized him, a consequence of not having breathed normally all night. Moreover, the dried blood in his throat did nothing to soothe the irritation caused by the young woman's intervention on his lung.
"Hold on... drink in small sips."
Sakura gently brought a cup of water to his lips. He swallowed small sips, and even though the taste was metallic due to his blood, it felt refreshing.
"Do you feel any pain or discomfort when you swallow?"
"N... No... Who are you?" Madara asked in a barely audible voice, continuing to drink slowly.
"Get ready... it's going to hurt. I'll restore access to your second lung because it was severely damaged. Three, two, one, exhale..."
Madara felt no pain when the pressure of her fingers was felt on his throat, but that was before the young woman continued:
"Now, inhale..."
And then, Madara understood what she meant by pain. His lung was completely empty and had just filled with air again.
"There... gently, take small breaths, then gradually increase," Sakura guided calmly as Madara started to get annoyed at not getting any answers.
"Who are you?" he repeated more sternly. The intonation left no doubt: he demanded to know who she was. But he didn't give her time to answer; he immediately ordered: "Answer me, woman!"
At that moment, Madara activated his Sharingan, and this simple vision turned Sakura red. Her gaze, which was initially neutral and professional, turned into that of a seasoned ninja. After all, she was a woman who had been through war, and she wouldn't be intimidated by a Dōjutsu.
"No Sharingan! You've just come out of chakra exhaustion!"
Sakura had a harsh tone as her emotions clashed in her head. She had just saved him, and he was already trying to use his Sharingan on her. Seconds passed, and Madara did not deactivate his Dōjutsu.
"You won't be the first Uchiha to die by my hand, so I advise you to deactivate your Sharingan."
"Your name!" Madara demanded in a deep voice.
Internally, he was slightly impressed by this woman's temperament. She had not a trace of fear, and that characteristic gleam in her eyes clearly indicated that she was a war veteran. Who was she to have such confidence in front of him?
"Haruno Sakura... now, deactivate your Sharingan before I do it for you!"
With finally a name on her face, Madara deactivated his Dōjutsu but did not avert his gaze. It wasn't tomorrow that the great Uchiha Madara would bow to a mere woman, no matter how powerful she might be.
Sakura leaned toward him and fixed her left eye for a moment. Her face was furrowed, as if searching for an anomaly.
"Look to the right... look to the left... don't use your Sharingan until I tell you."
Then, she brushed aside the brown strands of hair from the other part of his face before continuing:
"Open your eye and keep it open."
She gently placed her hand on it before a soft chakra emanated to heal the inside of the eyeball. For now, she couldn't do anything for the eye itself.
"You're not asking for my name?"
"I already know who you are... Madara."
This greatly bothered Madara, who had no idea where this woman came from. He knew all the greatest ninjas of the Elemental Nations, and someone of her caliber would have made a name for herself. Someone capable of breaking a cliff, mastering chakra to such an extent.
"How do you know me?"
"Who doesn't know Uchiha Madara?" Sakura retorted as she removed her hand and gave new instructions. "You can close it; it might itch, but don't touch it."
Once her ocular inspection was completed, Sakura went to her desk to pick up an inkwell and a fine brush.
"What are you doing?" he asked, intrigued by the objects she held in her hands.
"Seals to keep you alive and help you heal."
Sakura continued her methodical work, tracing delicate lines of chakra on Madara's skin. Each brushstroke left a bluish imprint that, after a short moment, returned to the skin's natural color. These calculated gestures, she spent about ten minutes drawing complex seals on the bladder and intestines. Once her work was done, she scrutinized every detail carefully, ensuring that no mistakes would compromise the effectiveness of the seals.
Satisfied with her work, Sakura looked up to meet Madara's gaze.
"With these two seals, you won't need to go to the bathroom anymore. As long as you're paralyzed, or until you're a little more autonomous, I'll leave them in place."
Intrigued and eager to unravel the mystery surrounding this woman, Madara couldn't help but ask a question he had never considered before.
"Where are you from?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued. He discerned in Sakura's gaze a deep pain, as if his question had touched a sensitive chord.
"From a place that no longer exists..."
Painful memories flooded Sakura's mind as she stood before the man responsible for her departure. Sensing tears threatening to betray her usual composure, she stood up abruptly, refusing to show vulnerability to this adversary. Madara's presence revived emotions she thought she had buried. Crying would be a weakness, so she preferred to leave the room before losing this battle against her own feelings.
Faced with her hasty departure, a hint of regret crossed Madara's mind. He then observed his own body, wrapped in bandages on the chest, witnesses to the surgeries he had undergone. His left arm was covered with seals, delicately luminous, barely perceptible to the naked eye. Faced with this tableau, he wondered about the extent of this woman's skills. Who in the world could master chakra so prodigiously? Was she affiliated with the Uzumaki clan, using Fūinjutsu with such ease? Her eyes, marked by war experience, left no doubt about her strength.
"I guess hunger awaits you," Sakura declared, returning with a tray in hand. It contained two bowls, a glass of water, and a pair of chopsticks. Sadness had given way to neutrality in her gaze.
"Yes."
The appetizing smell filled Madara's nostrils, and he realized how hungry he was. The last time he had eaten was the day before, and his body now demanded replenishment for the loss of blood and chakra.
Sakura gently placed the tray on the bedside table before taking a seat on a chair near the bed.
"Unfortunately, due to the stomach intervention, you won't be able to eat normally for some time," she explained while picking up the soup bowl.
Filled spoon, she gently blew on the broth before offering it to Madara's lips. Hesitation lingered on his face, unsure whether to feel offended, open his mouth docilely, or abruptly push away this spoon as an absurd gesture.
"I know you don't like being dependent on someone, Uchiha-san, but you need to eat, and you're not in a condition to feed yourself."
Reluctantly, Madara opened his mouth and enjoyed the taste of the warm soup filling his mouth. His gaze did not leave Sakura for a single moment while she fed him. He felt intense shame in this situation, but his attention was diverted when the young woman spoke again.
"This soup contains all the necessary ingredients to stimulate blood production. For today, I can only give you one bowl due to the recent operation."
Once finished, Sakura gently placed the empty bowl before grabbing the second one containing rice and the pair of chopsticks.
"Why do you hate me?"
If Sakura was surprised by this question, she didn't show it. She adjusted the chopsticks in her fingers before extending a portion of rice to Madara.
"Chew until the rice is mushy in your mouth... And what makes you think I hate you?" Sakura asked innocently.
Madara took his time chewing his bite, as advised by the woman, before swallowing and speaking.
"You may be able to hide your emotions, but your eyes don't deceive me."
"Let's just say I don't hold most of your clan in my heart."
"Why?" Madara questioned, very surprised.
Another bite was presented to his lips, and this one was also chewed for a long time.
"All the Uchiha I've met have tried to kill me, subjugate me, harm me..."
Sakura had to admit that even the love of her life had only hurt her. He had played with her feelings, broken them, and thrown them away. If it hadn't been for her sensei and Naruto's intervention, she would have died at his hands.
"I've never harmed you."
"Not yet..."
Madara might be a keen observer of emotions, but Sakura had the future as an advantage, allowing her to speak half-truths. After all, Madara had not yet harmed her, at least not yet. She placed the empty bowl on the tray before grabbing the glass of water and bringing it to the patient's mouth.
"Drink slowly."
"Why are you doing all this?"
"What do you mean?" Sakura asked, confused.
"Why did you save my life? Why are you helping me recover? If you hate my clan so much, then why bother saving the leader?"
"I took the Hippocratic Oath."
"The real reason..."
The real reason? Sakura also asked herself that question. Had she done the right thing by saving his life?
"I wonder myself why," Sakura whispered, more to herself than to Madara. She placed her hand on his temple before saying, "Sleep now; you need a lot of rest."
And saying that, Madara sank back into unconsciousness.
"Will I be able to change him?"
[I hope you enjoy this story.]