At this moment, Sakura felt like a ship in the middle of a galactic storm, tossed by the relentless winds of her tormented destiny. She staggered under the overwhelming weight of her existence, burdened by the loss of those she cherished, by the constraints of a patriarchal era that gripped her free will, and by the titanic responsibility of transforming a world in search of true peace.
Yet, among the torments that plagued her, one burden stood above the others like an unshakable mountain: the daily presence of the catalyst of her pain, Madara. She had to not only heal him, support him, and teach him to find his footing in this world, but also to erase the atrocities he would commit, the dark designs that would mark his future. She had, in a way, to dance with the devil while trying to understand him.
Sakura was a woman of acute intelligence, but she knew that Madara matched her in cunning and sagacity. One day, he might uncover her schemes, expose the lies that had guided her from the start, revealing the subtle game she played to manipulate him. And in this game of deception, the Sage of the Six Paths had his own elusive designs, infinitely broader than their simple confrontation.
She found herself, exhausted and broken, in Madara's powerful arms. The pain, long suppressed, finally burst forth in a torrent of tears and stifled cries as she desperately clung to him, seeking comfort she herself doubted she deserved. She could no longer contain this suffering; she had to let it flow, even if it wrinkled the black kimono of her enemy.
"Why...," she whispered between sobs, a lingering question that was not so much an inquiry to Madara as a challenge thrown to the universe itself. Why her, why should this unbearable burden be hers, while others passed through the meshes of fate without bearing its crushing weight?
The answer, of course, was as elusive as the stars in the firmament. But in this moment of vulnerability, as she let herself be overwhelmed by the whirlwind of her own despair, Sakura felt Madara's arms tighten around her. He might be powerless against his own demons, but in this comforting embrace, he offered a form of silent comfort, a gesture simple yet imbued with profound humanity.
Never had the tears of Madara Uchiha flowed, even when destiny cruelly played its part before his unperturbed eyes. Not when he saw his father succumb to the enemy's blade, nor when his mother silently succumbed to illness, nor even when the brother he cherished was taken by Tobirama's fatal designs.
No, tears of sadness had never troubled his dark and impenetrable gaze. But they had flooded his soul with a burning anger, a fiery blaze that consumed everything in its path.
Just four months ago, he would have judged Sakura's attitude as a manifestation of weakness, attributing her torments to her condition as a woman. But that was before he truly knew her. She was not just a woman; she was a force of nature, resilient and unyielding, shaped by the trials that life had inflicted upon her. Madara remained silent, letting the young woman express her despair in the hollow of his protective arms. He adopted the gestures of tenderness taught to him by his mother: gently stroking her back with his palm, delicately brushing her hair with his fingertips. He gradually infused the atmosphere with his chakra, surrounding her with comfort and calm. He understood that she needed to release the burden weighing on her heart, so he restrained his own chakra, letting time do its work.
"Why me!?" Sakura screamed, and Madara felt a painful embrace tighten around his own heart. Why did her misery touch him so deeply? Why did he feel this urgent desire to ease her pain? Why this irresistible urge to track down the culprits to the depths of hell?!
"Because life is a cruel creature," he murmured, holding her a little closer. In a way, he understood Sakura's distress. Why did we always have to lose those we cherished? Why did death indiscriminately take away those we loved?
"It's unfair!" Sakura sobbed, her voice broken by pain.
"I know," Madara agreed, one of the few souls capable of fully grasping her pain. "But it's precisely because life is unfair that we must fight..."
"I've had enough... of fighting," Sakura cried, exhausted by the weight of loneliness and pressure. She desired only one thing: to find her loved ones, to hold them close.
"Do you want to render your loved ones' sacrifices in vain?" Madara whispered in Sakura's ear.
"No... but what's the point of fighting? When you've lost everything...," she continued, her voice choking with sobs.
"Life is a ruthless adversary, Sakura-san," Madara explained, continuing his comforting caresses. "It imposes trials upon us throughout our existence. And it's up to us to overcome them... and..."
Sakura gradually felt tranquility return to her, cradled by Madara's soothing chakra and reassuring presence. Ironically, the one responsible for her suffering was also the one offering unexpected comfort.
"And?" she murmured softly, letting her fists unclench as she appreciated the closeness of the Shinobi.
"And you're not alone...," Madara admitted after a brief silence.
"What... what do you mean?" Sakura asked, perplexed.
But her questions remained unanswered, replaced by a warmer embrace, laden with a tacit meaning deeper than mere words. He could have told her she could count on him, that he would avenge the wrongs inflicted by those who had hurt her, but his pride prevented him.
"Close your eyes..."
They remained like that, entwined, for long minutes. Madara gradually intensified his presence through his energy, allowing Sakura to gradually regain her calm. She momentarily forgot who he was, letting herself be enveloped by this sensation of protection, akin to what her father provided, adorned with a strange aura... of affection?
"Forgive me," she finally murmured.
Sakura pulled away from his embrace, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her opal green sweater. She felt a twinge of shame for letting her emotions burst forth in front of him, avoiding his gaze as she returned to her tasks in the kitchen. The papillotes she had prepared were almost ready.
"Please," Madara replied, almost regretting the end of this exchange. He returned to his seat, pouring himself another glass of sake. He savored its scent for a moment before drinking it in one gulp, contrary to his usual habits. His thoughts swirled in his head, and he needed a potion to calm them.
"It will be ready soon, Madara-san," Sakura informed, punctuating her words with a slight sniffle.
"Sakura-san."
"Yes?" she replied without turning away from her current task.
"Who taught you to drink like that?" Madara inquired, surprised to see a woman so at ease with alcohol.
"Have you never seen a woman drink?" Sakura retorted, with a hint of humor. Her wit struck home, eliciting a soft laugh from the brunet, which in turn brought a smile to his face.
"I have indeed seen women drink, but not with such ease," Madara admitted, pleased to see this smile brighten the young woman's face.
"My mother...," Sakura murmured, thinking back to all those evenings spent with Tsunade Senju. She was a lover of alcohol and could rival anyone in the field.
Memories of Tsunade, whether she was plunged into drunkenness due to her exhausting work, the loss of Jiraiya, or simply for pleasure, brought a gentle smile to Sakura's lips.
"She would have gotten along well with my brother."
"Was he a big drinker?" Sakura asked as she opened the papillotes and arranged the contents on two plates.
"Oh, one time, he was so drunk that I found him wooing a flower," Madara recounted with a soft laugh, swept away by the memory. Though he keenly felt his brother's absence, these moments of levity managed to bring a smile to his face.
Sakura burst into laughter, a sound as comforting as it was rare in these tumultuous times.
"I have trouble imagining an Uchiha wooing a flower. That must have been worth its weight in gold," she exclaimed, her voice infused with a newfound lightness thanks to Madara's humor.
"I admit I teased him and mocked him for a long time," chuckled Madara as he watched Sakura place a plate in front of his eyes, then come to sit beside him. It was a composition of freshly prepared vegetables, accompanied by white fish.
"What was your brother like, Madara-san?" Sakura inquired as she picked up her chopsticks. "Itadakimasu."
"Itadakimasu," Madara replied before diving into his meal. She really had a talent for cooking. "My brother... he's no longer with us."
"I'm sorry."
"My brother was the most cheerful person among the five of us," Madara confided.
"Five?"
"Mother gave birth to five brothers," he explained, plunging back into his memories. A veil of sadness briefly darkened his eyes before he concealed it deep within him. "As the eldest, he probably felt invested with the mission of supporting me, and he found in making me smile in all circumstances his own way of achieving it."
"He seemed like a good person," remarked Sakura as she bit into a carrot.
"Yes and no, he could be quite a fool at times," admitted Madara, recalling his brother's many pranks.
"I suppose it runs in the family then," added Sakura with a touch of sarcasm.
"Hn! Sake?" Madara offered, pouring himself another cup.
"Please," Sakura acquiesced as Madara filled her cup.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked before savoring his drink, unlike Sakura who emptied hers in one gulp.
"I'm an only child, and I think that's for the best. My father already had enough trouble with two women at home," declared Sakura, eliciting another laugh from Madara.
"I can't imagine the poor man having to deal with two women like you," he joked, feeling the alcohol start to relax his muscles. He wasn't used to drinking often, knowing that it could cloud his mind, and as a ninja, he had to be at his best at all times. But the current situation allowed him to indulge in a small drink.
"He never complained, anyway. And your other brothers, how were they, Madara-san?" Sakura continued, feeling the warmth slowly rise to her face.
"I remember little about them... the war took them away from us too soon," replied the Uchiha, his thoughts turning to the conflict against the Senju clan.
"And your parents, what were they like?" Sakura inquired, curious to learn more about the man beside her.
"You're quite curious, Sakura-san," he remarked.
"I'm curious about the souls that shaped your destiny," she expressed with a voice tinged with calculated reserve.
Memories of his parents were buried under layers of time and responsibilities. His father, who fell on the battlefield defending the ancestral principles of the Uchiha clan, and his mother, who succumbed to a cruel illness, were mere shadows in the corridors of his memory. His father's last words still echoed in his mind: "We truly understand what being an adult means only when we are alone, without our parents."
He would have wished to feel overflowing pride for his sons, but the reality was different. His father had always been austere, even in the face of death, insisting on toughening them further, on instilling in them the values of the clan. He had staked everything on their power, on their ability to defend their own. But now, Madara was alone, abandoned even by his own despite his repeated warnings, even those of his brother Izuna.
A new glass of sake slid into his hand, and he downed it in one gulp, seeking refuge in drunkenness.
"Father was...," he began, before letting out a heavy sigh full of meaning. Another glass was filled, to ease the weight of memories. "A proud man... for whom honor and family transcended all other considerations. His entire life was devoted to the clan, to its security... After all, he was its leader."
"Like many clan heads...," she murmured, echoing his thoughts.
He gave a melancholic smile. "Father, much like Butsuma Senju, Hashirama's father, were devout. Their clan was their faith, so much so that my friendship with Hashirama was seen as a betrayal," he confided, raising his glass in a solemn gesture towards Sakura. "I still remember the pain of that decision, of choosing not to take Hashirama's life when I had the chance..."
"I presume your childhood was more difficult than mine," Sakura confided, letting her thoughts drift back to her past, filled with the tranquility and affection of a loving family.
"My childhood was hardly a childhood, Sakura-san. Being the son of a clan leader imposes obligations. To be exposed to the cruelty of the world from a young age forces you to grow up far too quickly...," admitted the brunet, his words weighed down by the effect of alcohol. The dishes were now empty, only a half-empty bottle and their thoughts remained.
"That's precisely the reality that pushed me to seek peace," he added, his gaze wandering into the distance.
"Perhaps, but it's that experience that shaped the man you are today," Sakura replied, trying to bring some comfort in the tumultuous flow of memories and regrets.
"Perhaps...," murmured Madara, his sarcasm tinged with a hint of bitterness. "But I fear my accomplishments don't measure up to expectations," he admitted, contemplating the path strewn with failures he had traversed.
"Don't say that," Sakura intervened, her voice filled with gentleness.
"And what do you know of my suffering!?" exclaimed Madara, overwhelmed by grief and alcohol. "Have you seen your entire family decimated before your eyes? Have you had to announce to your mother, eye to eye, the death of three of her children? Have you witnessed your mother's slow agony, powerless against her illness? Have you seen your brother sacrifice himself for the salvation of the clan? Have you failed to fulfill the last wishes of your brother and father?!"
"No... but I have seen my family, my friends, my village, everything dear to me, disappear before me... because of war," Sakura replied softly, her gaze fixed on the table. In their distress, they were alike, both broken by the infamous cycle of hatred. "Unlike you, I lost my entire family... Damn it, I can't believe we've come to comparing our suffering..."
"And your parents, what were they like?" sighed Madara, trying to regain his composure.
"I was fortunate to have loving parents... My mother especially, she was always there for me," Sakura began, her thoughts drifting to her real mother. "My father, in a way, feared her."
"If you draw your strength from her, I understand better why," Madara replied with a friendly smile. "And I never said my mother wasn't loving, just that I didn't see her often."
"Did your parents love each other?" Sakura dared to ask.
"Love... it's a difficult concept to define. But I know my mother was completely devoted to my father," Madara mused, delving into scattered memories of moments shared with his mother. "Yes, I believe my mother harbored deep feelings for my father, at least if her many words are to be believed."
"And what about you, what do you think?" Sakura asked, alcohol acting as a catalyst for courage. The bottle they had emptied was potent, and given the pace at which they were drinking it, it was no wonder tongues were loosened and truths emerged.
"What do you mean?" queried the Uchiha, perplexed.
"I mean, what do you truly think of your mother's feelings?"
"I've already given you my answer."
"I'm talking about now... not what you thought a month ago," Sakura murmured with a voice charged with intensity. Madara turned his gaze towards the young woman, who displayed a slight blush. "I'm not blind, Madara-san."
The concerned party remained silent in the face of this insinuation from the shinobi. Indeed, he had felt something strange lately: undefined sensations, ambiguous thoughts, restrained desires.
But this sentence... was it an invitation? Or was the alcohol speaking for him? They were both grappling with confused thoughts, contradictions mingling with the fervent desires of their hearts. After these confessions, these admissions, these revelations, Madara and Sakura found themselves face to face, and in their gazes, a glimmer of desire could be detected. Their breaths were ragged, and Sakura's hair stood slightly on end.
With his arm almost fully healed, the brunet was carried away by his impulses. He was tired of containing his emotions, burying them deep within himself. He didn't know what was happening, but he burned to find out. Rising, he encircled Sakura's waist and pressed her against the wall. He supported her with his strength alone, their hips pressing against each other, her feet barely touching the ground.
Holding one of her hands in his, the other caressing her cheek, he watched Sakura's eyes flutter under his touch, reflecting his own desire. She desired him as much as he desired her. He felt the softness of her skin as she placed her hand on his chest, caressing him passionately. He brought his lips closer to her face, plunging his jet-black gaze into a sea of turquoise, stopping just inches away.
Both could feel each other's frantic heartbeats, their breaths mingling warmly, desire burning in their gazes.
"However long it takes, whatever sacrifices I must make...," Madara began, surprised by his own words, his fiery gaze fixed on her. "You will be mine, Sakura-san."
"Then... what are you waiting for?" Sakura provoked, her desire to feel his lips against hers becoming irresistible. She burned to lose herself in this passion, to feel desired, perhaps loved.
"That's all I've desired for so long... but..."
"Then make me yours... what's holding you back?" Sakura interrupted, impatient.
Madara leaned in slightly, their lips almost brushing, but ultimately he opted for Sakura's ear, brushing her cheek in passing, sending a shiver coursing through her entire body.
"I don't want this, Sakura... I don't want someone under the influence of alcohol...," whispered Madara, taking the time to weigh each word. The one I want... is... my... Sakura!
Madara was already turning away, but Sakura didn't hear things that way. She was tired of constantly being rejected. All her life, the man she loved had rebuffed her advances, and today, as she presented herself to another, once again she found herself refused. Anger rose within her, and she grabbed Madara by the collar to pull him closer to her face.
"You should be satisfied! I offer you my body without reservation! Isn't that how you see women? As mere objects meant to satisfy your desires?" Sakura spat bitterly, desperately craving some affection in her world. The Uchiha gently placed his hands on Sakura's to make her release her grip.
"Perhaps I am a man of primal instincts...," Madara defended himself, releasing the young woman's grip. "But I am not an aggressor!"
Madara turned his back and staggered painfully towards his bed, leaning against the wall and furniture for support. On her part, Sakura slid down the wall and burst into tears once again, mixing anger and frustration.
Day 131
Sakura's consciousness stirred amidst a tumult of pain, a cacophonous symphony orchestrated by a fierce headache. Every sound, however faint, seemed to hammer at her skull, every shard of light piercing her eyelids like blades. Her sole desire was to sink deeper into the folds of her pillow, to escape once more into the restorative oblivion of sleep.
But she had to face the brutal reality of her condition. She attempted to piece together the fragments of the previous evening, but the memories slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. An opaque veil enveloped her thoughts, obscuring any clear recollection.
There had been that exchange with Madara Uchiha, followed by the drift into the murky waters of alcohol. But something eluded her, something essential lurked in the shadow of her foggy consciousness, but what?
After hours of chaotic awakening, punctuated by aborted attempts to return to sleep, Sakura finally decided to get up. Every movement was a trial, every step a struggle against the nauseating waves threatening to overwhelm her.
"My kingdom for an aspirin," she muttered under her breath as she laboriously heaved herself out of bed. But the transition to verticality was too abrupt, and dizziness seized her, forcing her to fall heavily back onto the mattress. "Misery... what concoction did I ingest last night to end up like this? Never again."
After long minutes of laborious groping, Sakura finally managed to reach her kitchen. She poured herself a large glass of water, dropping an aspirin into it, which began to effervesce gently, as if even the medication struggled to agree with her upset stomach.
Her gaze fell on the table, where two bottles of sake taunted her, silent witnesses to her past recklessness. The memories of the evening began to emerge, cutting through the fog of her clouded mind. With each flashback, anxiety grew: had she let slip some compromising information? The future seemed to hang by a thread, ready to tip into the abyss at any moment.
But despite her fears, nothing truly catastrophic seemed to have emerged from her nocturnal wanderings. However, a persistent sense of unease tormented her: what had she forgotten? What embarrassing secret lurked in the recesses of her faltering memory?
She swallowed the pill with a grimace, then massaged her temples with a ninja healing technique, hoping to dispel the mists clouding her memories. And suddenly, like a break in a stormy sky, part of the previous night came back to her, revealing a troubling detail.
"Oh no... I didn't dare to do that?" Sakura exclaimed, almost incredulous at her own actions. The blurred memory of Madara confessing something to her had faded, but her own impetuous gesture was etched in her memory, sharp as a kunai blade. The foam of her own anger had driven her to an act of desperation. How could she face his gaze now?
As she desperately sought a way out of this inner dilemma, another revelation struck her like a thunderbolt: Madara had rebuffed her advances. Why? Why hadn't he seized this opportunity? Any man would have succumbed to temptation, but not him. Did he feel indifferent to her charm? Did the subtle hints he had scattered mean nothing? He should have yielded to temptation...
"Stop tormenting your mind, Sakura... You're doing more harm than good," she scolded herself aloud.
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of mental decline," Madara interjected, suddenly appearing at the kitchen entrance, arms crossed. The sound of his voice sent shivers down Sakura's spine as she quickly looked up to ensure his real presence. Their eyes briefly met before she shamefully looked away. "Judging by your current state, it seems that alcohol resistance isn't a hereditary virtue for you," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
A weak groan escaped Sakura's lips as she refused to meet his gaze. Shame weighed heavily on her.
"Please, Madara-san, no sarcasm while I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of bulls," she pleaded, hastily moving away, carefully avoiding his gaze. "Take your usual seat, please."
Madara felt the pressing need to confront the situation, to know if she remembered the confidences exchanged the previous evening. But now, without alcohol to support them, was it really a confrontation he desired? So he remained silent, silently making his way to his usual seat, focusing on repairing his left arm.
"Roll up your sleeve," Sakura instructed, doing the same with hers. Her gaze briefly slid over the scattered diagrams on the easel. "Get ready, in three, two, one..."
The pain persisted, ever-present, but it seemed less unbearable than at the beginning, more bearable. Perhaps because Sakura was now targeting smaller Tenketsus than those she had initially faced. As she finished regenerating another Tenketsu, Sakura glanced at her plans, ticking off another success. Just a handful more to restore, and Madara's arm would be fully repaired.
After the fourth reactivation of the chakra point, Madara grew weary of the oppressive silence and Sakura's avoiding gaze. He grasped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. Despite their proximity, her gaze remained evasive, weighed down by shame.
"It's done, Sakura-san," Madara declared icily, his gaze piercing. "In life, there are two things you can't undo: a thrown kunai and spoken words."
"It's easy for you to say that, you weren't the one who embarrassed themselves yesterday," Sakura retorted.
"Look at me!" Madara ordered. Perhaps it was the weight of her actions bearing down on her, or the imposing presence of the brunette, but Sakura obeyed, meeting his gaze. "The only thing you can do after those two things is to face the consequences."
"But..."
"Do you think my brother, Izuna, was proud of himself the next day when he realized he had embarrassed himself by courting a flower?" Madara interrupted, his disappointment evident in his voice. "Last night, you were vulnerable, distressed, so don't be ashamed and own up to your actions."
"I'm sorry," Sakura murmured, wanting to disappear.
"I don't want your apologies, Sakura-san," Madara continued. "Behave like the woman I've come to appreciate and wipe that pitiful look off your face!" he ordered, releasing the young woman's chin.
[Thank you so much for your feedback and support. Thank you immensely!]