Sakura couldn't remember being quite this tired before in all of her life.

She scowled as she healed the lacerations along her arms, the green light around her palm flickering slightly as she tried to use as little chakra as possible. Damned traps. She'd disarmed the first four, but the fifth had managed to ensnare her before she had smashed it into pieces.

Sakura trudged further along, wiping away the blood as her arms slowly mended beneath her practised touch. The gashes across her skin sealed with wisps of tainted steam, leaving knotted scars she decided to heal later when she'd amassed more chakra. Exhausted and bloodied, she persisted forward, deeper and deeper into the earth.

Sakura blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light of a distant wall sconce, high on the corridor wall. Stopping in her tracks, she held still, more alert than before. Lighting? She hadn't seen any in days, having to use the matches in her bag to see the way ahead. The lack of illumination in these complicated subterranean tunnels had contributed to how that last trap had managed to injure her.

Perhaps it meant she was nearing usable facilities. Sensing no change in her environment and no obvious threats, Sakura shuffled forward once more, on tense alert as she consciously kept her footsteps silent and her breaths inaudible. Though she expected no company, she was ever-wary of surprise arrivals — always dreading the persistent possibility that somehow, Madara still might find her, this deep into the earth. Sakura knew well that she was never truly safe while he hunted her.

She gave the lit sconce a curious, fleeting glance as she passed deeper into the shadowy hall, missing the touch of the sun. She rubbed away the crusts of dried blood from her shoulder; lifting her head, Sakura scowled to herself as she walked. Without seeing the sky nor sun, she had no idea what time it was anymore, barely still tracking the days based on the occasional communications she received from Katsuyu and from memories inherited from Sakura's lost clones.

She hated being underground, just as she'd hated being down in the mine from before. She felt like a worm, wiggling down into cold dirt and rocks to escape being eaten. She was probably already looking as white as bleached rice from days without sunlight or fresh air, and she rubbed at her arms with a shiver, wishing she could go back to the surface rather than stride ever-deeper away from it.

But this was her best shot, her best option, no matter the risks nor discomfort of it, and Sakura trudged further with a sigh, rehearsing her plan as she went. She had a good idea of what she would find down here, and it's what motivated her to keep going.

Labs, for the eye. She pressed a hand over her chest where the Rinnegan was hidden in her chest-bindings, glaring forward. Libraries, for her. Sakura could only imagine the amount of knowledge that must be hidden away somewhere in this vast subterranean labyrinth: years of forbidden jutsus, esoteric knowledge, medical research; it would keep her sane with something to study other than babysitting her captive Rinnegan while in hiding.

Her fingers twitched restlessly as she hoped she would be able to access and read at least some of it. With both Orochimaru and presumably Kabuto dead, these tunnels were left abandoned, and she was more than eager to make use of what she was certain were high-quality facilities.

She could deal with traps for the sake of that. She had to. The Rinnegan needed better care; she'd done her best so far, but it needed proper saline, perhaps a tank of its own in which to fully rehydrate. Better yet, a host, but she was not foolish enough to attempt that. If Obito — an Uchiha of frightening strength — could not wield it with ease, then she had no chance.

Sakura cracked her knuckles as she spotted another distant wall sconce lit with flame. Good; perhaps this continued lighting indicated the very labs and libraries she was looking for, and she picked up her pace, watching for hidden doorways in the grooved walls. She couldn't wait to curl up and sleep, to try and forget the past several weeks entirely, if just for the length of a nap.

The last few days had been hard enough. She had done nothing but travel deeper underground through what was formerly Orochimaru's tunnels, avoiding and disarming traps, whispering reports to Katsuyu, and reflecting upon every memory that freshly-dead clones brought to her.

She lifted a hand to her temple, rubbing at her head with a sigh. Every time a clone died, her memories were sent not only to her original self, but to the other existing clones. It gave Sakura a headache whenever a set of experiences was returned to her. She hoped that it would be a while before Madara hunted down another.

The thought of him made her fingers curl into her gloves, her fists so tight that the leather creaked in protest. Sakura gritted her teeth. If it weren't for that smug, over-powered bastard, she wouldn't have to be down here at all, seeking asylum in this labyrinth of death-traps. Too many close calls already kept Sakura on her toes and doubly dubious of the plan she had committed to, but far more close calls kept her clones so much more uneasy in the villages they haunted, perpetually afraid of their inevitable deaths by Madara's hand.

It was painfully clear to Sakura that as her original self, she could never be safe on the surface, no matter where she might hide. The dangerous nature of this overcomplicated, widely expansive network of tunnels and traps were both her cover and her curse the further in she went.

When Sakura saw the soft blue glow from an upcoming doorway, she ran, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. She swung into the room with a grin, flipping on a nearby lightswitch.

She hummed to herself. It was part office, part lab. Computers lined the walls, as did shelves of neatly-organised files and scrolls. Chairs were pushed into several desks; Sakura's curious gaze slid over to the tanks, glass panels, and lab equipment that cluttered clean stainless-steel counters and wire-rack shelving units.

Sakura cracked a smile for the first time in days. This wasn't the extensive facility she'd hoped for, more like a closet compared to the image in her head, but it was still so much better than nothing. She reached up, unclasping her collar, eager to remove the Rinnegan from its hiding place and get it into a saline solution as soon as possible.

She paused, fingers along her throat, feeling the skin down her back prickle. Sakura swerved, a kunai at the ready, furious. Had Madara tailed her down here? Why had he waited to jump her until now, when she'd just felt hope for the first time in a long while?

She froze.

Orochimaru tilted his head where he leaned in the dark of the doorway, arms folded and golden eyes glinting. "Good evening," he greeted politely, if neutrally. "It has been quite a long time since you last invaded this place."

A memory flickered past Sakura's eyes: running recklessly into these tunnels, accompanied by Naruto, Yamato, and Sai. Further back in her memory was the time she and Naruto had delved deep into these halls and been caught by Kabuto. All of those vain efforts to find Sasuke had ended in sorrow.

Sakura bit back her grimace, remembering with embarrassment her absolute terror as a genin upon first so much as hearing Orochimaru's voice in person. She had been frozen, as she was now.

Sakura stood taller, carefully sheathing her kunai as she registered his lack of hostility. Even through her defensive shock at seeing Orochimaru, she understood that fighting wasn't the right tact here.

She swallowed, fingers digging into her sweaty palms. "Thankfully, I'm no longer a frightened genin," she answered carefully. "I was not aware that you survived."

"Clearly." Orochimaru's fingers tapped along his arms, his slitted eyes narrowing slightly. "You were apparently about to make a home for yourself here. Kabuto's defeat seems to have encouraged your reckless nature."

"I've been forced to take some risks." Sakura levelled her stare against Orochimaru's with mistrust. "Are you willing to speak with me? Or—" Her hand grazed along her hilted kunai, "or will you insist that we fight?"

Orochimaru chuckled, his silken black hair shifting around his face as he shook his head. "You aren't aware of a few important details, it seems. And no; unless you decide to start throwing your fists around in a fashion you've inherited from our dear Tsunade, then you can reasonably expect no hostility at this time." He gestured, and Sakura noticed now the silhouettes standing beyond Orochimaru in the hall; she tensed, gritting her teeth. She spotted a tall man with jagged orange hair, another man with medium-length hair and a toothy grin, and a girl—

Karin. Sakura blinked, recognising her from before. She'd had to heal her after Sasuke nearly killed her to get to Danzo.

She was grimacing once more as Orochimaru waved dismissively at them. Karin scowled at Sakura before following the two men into a nearby room, more lights switching to life as they went, leaving Orochimaru in the doorway alone.

Questions raced in her mind as Orochimaru slid sharp, knowing golden eyes back to her. How was he alive? Why was he here? Was he about to throw her out of these tunnels and back into Madara's ruthless, perceptive view?

Orochimaru stepped into the room, causing Sakura to take an automatic dance of steps backwards. He ignored her defensive reaction in favour of pulling a swivel-chair out from where it was pushed in against a desk; he reclined casually upon it, settling his attention calmly upon Sakura and leaning his head against his hand. "Go on, then," he said, smiling slightly.

Sakura paled, fighting another pressing urge to draw her kunai. "What?"

"You've come here for help, whether you procured it for yourself or not. Ask me what you know you need to ask me."

Sakura's face pinched, and she stood taller, affronted by Orochimaru's arrogant presumption that she'd be foolish enough to beg him for help. She might need an array of things far more urgently than she wanted to admit, but she wasn't about to rush into something as incredibly dangerous as even just conversation with someone like Orochimaru.

"Tch." Sakura glared at Orochimaru, fingers digging into the back of a nearby chair. "You call me reckless, but I'm not reckless enough to make a deal with you."

Orochimaru's languid lean upon his chair was regal and somewhat mocking as he eyed her. "Ah, but you have undertaken quite the difficult mission. It is obvious to anyone laying eyes on you that you are in desperate need of aid against such an enemy. When is the last time you've slept?"

"Days," Sakura admitted. She held Orochimaru's unwavering, glinting stare, debating. "How do you know I'm on a mission?"

"It's not a secret." Earrings flashed as Orochimaru tilted his head with a knowing look. "Katsuyu reported to Tsunade while I was present; I know you've been on the run for quite some time already."

"You were near Tsunade?" Sakura's fingers grazed her kunai, her other hand a fist as she glowered at him. "You better not have attacked her. I swear—"

"Not at all." Orochimaru's smile widened. "I saved her life, and that of your precious Sasuke's, two of the people you adore most in this world. You can trust me to help you." His fanged teeth flashed in the sterile white light of the room.

Sakura's eyes narrowed slowly upon him. Her lips twisted in an expression of distaste. "Even the genin version of me could see through that lie."

"Ask Katsuyu."

"I—" Sakura drew up, blinking with an odd frown, the chair at her side creaking as her fist unfurled across its top once more. She hummed, and Orochimaru reclined further into his seat, exhaling patiently. "Go on; summon her, learn the truth, and then we will discuss an arrangement that suits us both."

Sakura stared at Orochimaru for another moment before abruptly pulling out a chair and leaning tensely upon it, weaving the right hand signs while keeping an eye on him all the while.

"It's true," Katsuyu was saying, gray eyes wide atop eyestalks that waved in alarm. "But why are you speaking with—?!"

She was dismissed in a plume of steam, and Sakura leaned forward on her chair, her hands clasped. She resettled her burrowing glare back upon Orochimaru. "Before we talk about anything else, I need to ask you a very important question."

Orochimaru was stroking along the back of a small white python that had appeared, slithering along his shoulders; he blinked calmly at Sakura, waiting in relaxed silence. She drew herself up in her chair with a deep breath before continuing. "Do you believe in the Infinite Tsukuyomi? Do you wish to see it be cast, or not?"

"No."

Sakura watched him for a long moment before sighing, knowing he was not one where she would ever be able to read if he was being honest or not. "If that's truly so," she said cautiously, "then our goals at least somewhat align. We're on the same side." Sakura wiped the sweat from the back of her neck, gripping her knees as she brought her gaze back to Orochimaru. "And since it is true that you've assisted Lady Tsunade and Sasuke already, perhaps you really have had a change of heart. Perhaps, I can trust that you might assist me as well."

The python that was curled across Orochimaru's shoulders yawned, its mouth a bright pink that drew Sakura's eye for a moment. Its fangs glinted before it closed its mouth and peered at her with bright violet eyes. Orochimaru stroked down its back as he resettled in his chair, leaning an elbow along the dusty desk; his golden eyes caught the bright white lights in a knowing shine. "I am inclined to remind you of the extreme risk that I would be undertaking should I agree to help you." He leaned forward, his slitted pupils dilating slightly as his smile fell. "Risks of another death. The destruction of my labs and experiments; the loss of years of research. The expenses involved would be high, even without the aforementioned disasters taking place." He held Sakura's nervous gaze. "I would not allow you to use my facilities unsupervised. As such, I'd have to commit not only my territories and properties to your use, but my time, efforts, and expertise as well. This mission of yours could take anywhere from hours to years… depending, of course, upon the skills of your clones up on the surface."

"Only months, I hope," Sakura supplied, a knot between her brows. Orochimaru folded his arms with a sigh. "You don't actually know. You cannot promise success. You do understand… this is Uchiha Madara that is your enemy, not only fully alive and well, but additionally bestowed with the powers of a god. He is far beyond what one could consider any normal shinobi, and a thousand times more dangerous."

"Everyone seems so inclined to remind me," Sakura grumbled back, hunching in her chair. She shoved her hands through her hair, glancing around uncomfortably as Orochimaru let out a low hiss. "Do you understand? Madara is more dangerous than anyone else alive or dead, and you have made sure that all of his focus and ill-will is targeted wholly upon you. What if you've already drawn him down into my labs?"

"I know," Sakura bit back, feeling punctured from his blunt statements. "I've fought him a couple of times now. I'm not ignorant of who he is, or how treacherous he can be. I've had to see for myself over and over already what a smug, arrogant, thoughtless bastard—"

She stopped herself, her knuckles white as she gripped her knees.

Exhaling slowly, Sakura tilted her head back, blinking up at fluorescent lights and forcing herself to calm down before speaking again, this time with a controlled tone. "Madara isn't flawless. I was able to get away from him before, and I've been able to throw him off a few times. Surely, you can see that my plan has some merit, because not only am I still alive, but I'm here hidden while that jerk is hunting my clones far away from here." Sakura's expression flickered, slight colour tinting her cheeks as she recalled a recent moment from a clone. She glanced to the side with a scowl, Madara's deep laugh rumbling across her memories. Interest? Yeah, right.

"That is true, for now." Orochimaru seemed to relax slightly, amusement sparking subtly behind his slitted pupils as he observed Sakura leashing her passionate anger. He caressed the python he held while Sakura frowned beneath his scrutiny, perpetually uneasy from his presence. Orochimaru's blunt reminders ricocheted against her thoughts in sharp succession. "How much, exactly, do you know of my situation?" she asked.

Orochimaru smirked. "That you are on a desperate cat-and-mouse chase… on the losing side."

"Help me win." Sakura's expression was intense as she held Orochimaru's luminescent stare. "I don't expect you to aid me without benefit to yourself. I'm not a child anymore; I know how these things work." She leaned forward, folding her arms tightly over her chest. "Imagine; exoneration. Walking freely through Konoha at your leisure again. You know I would make a strong case for you, depending upon how much you can help me through this war and assure our win against Madara."

Orochimaru hummed, tapping a finger along his pale mouth with a slight smile. "You cannot guarantee my exoneration. You're promising something very difficult for Konoha to grant, even if you somehow managed to convince them to just forgive my years of crimes." He blinked. "What is their forgiveness to me? Surely you can offer something of more definitive value."

Sakura answered Orochimaru's blunt manner with her own, her words flat and honest. "Research," she said simply. "Are you aware of why it is that Madara is spending all his time and resources tracking me down?"

"I have heard rumours." Orochimaru's stare glowed brightly, his snake eyes catching the light in an ochre flash. His fanged teeth glittered white as he grinned, and Sakura nodded calmly. "Pending the thorough contractual agreement we make, I will let you study the Rinnegan."

She could sense his tense, leashed excitement as she quickly amended her statement. "Of course, I will be keeping it on or near my person at all times, and I would be studying it with you. In no situation will I let you take it from me. I will never let it out of my sight. However, otherwise, I would let you examine it to your heart's content, assuming you don't damage it more than it's already damaged. You keep all of whatever research you can garner while I'm down here with you." Sakura's attention wandered across the lab, along the spotless stainless-steel counters and neat rows of scientific instruments. "I may have an additional request, pending that research."

Orochimaru remained silent as Sakura looked back to him, a resolute expression in place. Sakura gripped the arms of her chair, leaning forward, her green eyes glittering with determination. "So, in short: I need your allyship, your knowledge, your counsel and research, as well as full access to these tunnels and facilities. I also need your silence. No one beyond us can know about my location or this deal we're making, not even my teammates or Lady Tsunade. It would be a risk to them and to my mission — though I know you're no stranger to secrecy."

Orochimaru's expression was unreadable as he leaned in his chair. Sakura sat up taller, suddenly apprehensive that he was about to throw her out regardless of her offer. "I know from what I've heard that you value research." Her fingers clasped tightly together, steepling up and down as she anxiously continued to persuade him. "You value science. You are always studying something. I know you understand how precious Uchiha eyes are—" Sakura bit back a grimace, "—so I know you understand just how incredible and impossibly rare it would be to have unfettered access to studying a living, genuine Rinnegan. Have you ever seen one in person? You could help me figure out its inner workings. The research has so much potential…"

Orochimaru hummed, leaning back in his chair; the python slithered off into the lab. "Should I accept this proposal of yours, I will have counter-conditions of my own."

"Of course." Sakura's eyes brightened, her shoulders tense. "Does that mean you're considering it?"

Orochimaru made a wide smile Sakura couldn't decide was smug or kindly. "You can't turn to your Sasuke… or Team Seven? Not your beloved Hokage?"

Sakura scowled before shaking her head. "I can't. You know you have the resources I need that no one else has." She looked away from him. "I won't beg you further. I'm not here to rub your ego. I've stated my terms; take it or leave it."

"Relax," Orochimaru chuckled. "None of us here want to be trapped in an infinite dream. You're correct that we are on the same side about that, at least. Let us be allies…" He gestured out at the lab with a snow-white hand. "Come. We'll write our contract's terms, and then begin studies." Orochimaru's pupils widened with barely-restrained excitement, his fist clenching like he was crushing something in his palm. "I cannot wait to examine a genuine, living Rinnegan." He swerved, tugging an elegantly-carved scroll case from a shelf above his head, spreading it out upon the desk beside him and rummaging for other supplies.

Sakura began to relax, realising gradually that she might have just secured the safehouse and resources she needed. Her face softened into an expression of cautious joy.

Orochimaru was shooting questions her way as he shuffled papers, pulling a quill and ink into his reach. "I heard you damaged it, causing your reckless undertaking to come to life. Tell me; how extensive is that damage? Have you maintained its health over these past weeks? How is it that you've preserved it while on the run?"

"First tell me," Sakura countered, "How secluded is this lab? Are we safe enough, should Madara start looking into these tunnels?"

"We are never quite safe from someone with as much intelligence and experience as Madara." Orochimaru glanced over at Sakura; she was scowling, and he smiled, golden eyes knowing and confident. "Don't worry. This area should suffice for studies for now." He dipped his quill in ink as he went on, "We will need to set many more traps and sensors; we'll create backup plans. Understand… Madara will have little trouble bypassing the traps should your plans fail and he figures out you're down here, so don't get too comfortable. We may need to leave at a moment's notice should he be detected nearby."

"I know." Sakura's expression hardened, memories passing by her mind's eye. "He won't. Not for a while."

Orochimaru lifted his pen, ready to strike. "I'll be interested to hear more about your clones' experiences as he kills them. Now… our contract."

Sakura leaned forward in her chair, utterly focused already. If she was going to make a deal this important with someone like Orochimaru, she had to pay attention to every single word.

It wasn't until Sakura couldn't recognise herself in the mirror that she was satisfied. Adjusting her wild, long locks of dirty-blonde hair, she tilted her face in the dingy light, squinting at herself. She looked perhaps like a cross between Ino and Kurenai, with heart-shaped cheeks and dramatic makeup; the thick frames of her glasses rested low on her slender nose, and Sakura put her hands on her hips, deciding.

Fine. It would do. This was perhaps her sixth henge change in the last five minutes, none of her other disguises satisfying her. This one didn't either, but it was almost time for the meeting she dreaded attending.

Adjusting her raincoat, Sakura pushed out of the bathroom, holding her breath. Head swivelling either way down a long hallway, she nodded to herself. She could do this.

The familiar scents of book-dust and old bindings rose to her nose as she walked down the corridor, her wet boots squeaking as she went. It calmed her somewhat, reminding Sakura of her many days and nights spent with her nose in a scroll or between book pages throughout her life.

The side-room wasn't hard to find, and she glared at the flyer upon the shut door, her arms folding tightly over her chest. She managed to wrestle her scowl off of her face before raising her fist and knocking, her pulse rising to a slightly faster tempo.

It's a good idea, but can you keep your composure? Tsunade's voice walked through Sakura's head as she waited, the conversation recollecting in her mind's eye like it was happening in the present. Gather whatever information you can. It's important that we keep tabs on this idiotic 'Tsukuyomi Union'.

Sakura swallowed, the seconds spent waiting feeling like full minutes. All she wanted was to return to what had become her normal routine of scouting the streets, gathering information, and training. The past weeks had afforded her peace and quiet with no interruptions, and she'd sent along as much useful information to her teammates while she could, hoping every day that Madara wouldn't appear and end her. It also seemed her back perpetually hurt, her hands aching from doing contract nursework and sleeping in alleys, constantly paranoid of being hunted and killed.

This little gathering made her nervous for many reasons, the possibility of Madara showing up being one of them. Sakura shifted in her boots, knocking on the door again, grimacing. Though she doubted he would be here, she was certain that he was at least involved in what she labelled in her mind as this cult; he had probably founded it.

Sakura's false smile was tight as the door finally opened. A bland-faced older man gestured for her to come in; she nodded politely, immediately on edge upon seeing that the conference room was full of people. Nearly every chair that faced the front like a classroom was filled, and there were civilians of every kind across the seats, from children to elderly folk with every age in between.

Sakura found a seat in the back row, sliding demurely into her place. Upon seeing that no one was paying attention to her, she relaxed somewhat.

Her sharp, memorising eyes traced over each face she could see as the bland man returned to the front of the room, shuffling a stack of papers behind a modest desk. There was no one she recognised, which she had expected and hoped for; this wasn't her home village, after all.

Sakura grimaced. There had better not be any Infinite Tsukuyomi supporters back in Konoha. She hated the very thought, and hated the likelihood of it more. This room full of perhaps fifty people was alarming enough, and knowing that the popularity of this cult was growing rapidly didn't help; there could be this many supporters in every village across the country, which meant it had many hundreds overall, creating a much larger problem than she had first anticipated upon seeing that flyer back at the old woman's tailoring shop.

Looking around, Sakura didn't see her here, and wondered if she was just late. Wanting to not care, she sat back in her folding chair, looking around the room and continuing to memorise faces.

The man who had let her in was talking. He was so uninteresting that Sakura found herself having trouble paying attention, the gist of his fumbling, long-winded words boiling down to gratefulness for the number of people here. She sensed that his grovelling for the Infinite Tsukuyomi cause was upcoming, and she wished fervently again to leave.

Most of the people present had settled in their seats by now, some of them with flyers in hand. All eyes had settled on the speaker, who droned on. Sakura eyed him boredly, resting her head on her chin, and she found herself not-quite wishing someone more dangerous and interesting were here instead.

She scowled at herself. It was good he wasn't around. With luck, she wouldn't see him at all; with great luck, he'd never find her, hunting her fellow clones in other villages instead.

Having imagined Madara present, Sakura found it hard to see him enjoying this gathering either, let alone replacing the speaker. He didn't strike her as the type to lead boring semi-secret library gatherings and dry speeches. He was all destruction and chaos, intensity and lethality, not lifeless conferences.

Smirking to herself, Sakura tucked her henge-disguised blonde hair behind her ear, letting herself imagine him destroying this room as the speaker went on about the beautiful potential of the infinite dreams and the forever-death of all nightmares.

The death of nightmares? Sakura sighed, glancing out at the windows, watching the rain streak down the glass. She'd been suffering the same nightmares for weeks. Were she ignorant and naive, she might have been sold on that point for the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Never in her life had nightmares plagued her as much as they did now.

She'd determined it was probably the imminent threat of death day in and day out that was stressing her subconscious, and dubbed it as a non-issue, ignoring her general lack of restful sleep. Being just a clone, it didn't really matter. Sakura returned her attention to the speaker as she heard the title "Lord Uchiha" spoken, her eyes narrowing — had she heard that correctly?

The speaker said it again, a glow of reverence in his otherwise blank face as he spoke of their god and saviour Lord Uchiha Madara, Sage of Six Paths, bringer of peace and righteous ruler. Sakura nearly choked on what she'd heard, earning several curious stares; she hunched into herself, covering her mouth as she tried her best not to either laugh or retch. Having been unable to hear her over his own droning, the speaker continued, now about the merits of donations and spreading the word about supporting Madara's "justifiable and just cause".

Sakura looked around at the room, expecting some reactions similar to her own, but saw none: only bored, tired acceptance across the other guests' faces.

She frowned. Was it normal for Madara to be addressed like that in these speeches? Were these people used to referring to him with such flouncy, pompous titles amongst themselves in general?

Surely not. Sakura shook her head. They were all falling asleep in place listening to this speaker talk, just like her. Maybe they had misheard him, or glossed over it; Madara was no god, no ruler, no saviour. It was ridiculous even for fanatical pseudo-cultists to say.

She yawned, thoroughly bored other than hearing the title they'd dubbed Madara with. It was a good thing, Sakura decided, that the elderly woman she'd yelled at before wasn't here; the old bat's speech in favour of the Infinite Tsukuyomi was far more motivating to her than the drivel this speaker was handing out. She wondered why it was that this many people bothered to show up, considering he must be their leader, or at least one of them. Gazing across their many faces once more, Sakura paid closer attention.

Patched, threadbare clothing matched in different paltry hues across the shoulders and skinny backs of some. For others, often the more withdrawn that sat further back, they were clad in rich leathers and silken robes, hinting at their wealth. There was no common skin tone, age, build, or mannerism that seemed to universally match across those that listened around Sakura. The only thing she could identify for sure between all of them was the solemn glint in their stares, the shadows in their expressions.

Was it loss? Sakura wondered, and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The old tailor's face crossed her mind again, wrinkled with grief, shaded with every death she'd witnessed.

Sakura sank back into her chair, reading it again across the expressions of those gathered. It was the same as the tailor's: that spark of hope so rueful and pure — the hope of seeing the dead live again.

It rolled over Sakura's stomach, and she clenched her arms over her midriff, sickened. Every person in this room was prepared to become a cocoon; to lose everything in order to be reunited with the dead. That, or to receive a life they'd dreamt of, but could not achieve; to have anything and everything they want, without cost, without further effort, without more loss.

Sakura saw it as selfish. She refused to see it as anything else. She gripped her fists tightly as she listened through the rest of the bland man's speech, hating that she did understand their desires, reiterating selfish each time that she did.

Ah; there it was again. Madara leaned forward upon the branch he had been reclining on, one hand over his left eye. He inclined his head, white hair falling around his face.

The dark criss-crossing of shadows obscured his features, the tree canopy above him shifting in the wind. Silver flickered across his pale face; the breeze was cold, though he showed no reaction to its touch, shutting his eyes once more.

What he felt instead was the prodding and poking at his eye, ghostly and light, yet just present enough that he noticed it — insistent, cautious, irritating. He'd sensed it before, sometimes with bare flashes of light and odd sensations. His lost eye: his phantom limb still living, long separated from his body, yet still felt.

Madara tilted back against the tree trunk with a quiet exhale, watching the wind sweep through the dark leaves of the forest. Perhaps the fact that he possessed the twin to his other original eye was what tied such sensations to his body, allowing him to feel it; even if in uselessly vague, rare detail. He smirked to himself. No matter; this allowed him to know that the eye Sakura held hostage from him was still alive in itself, far from the point of no return. Perhaps, should she ever be fool enough to heal it on her own, before he inevitably took it from her — perhaps he might receive more than phantom-limb sensations, the eye acting like an opaque window.

He winced at a particularly sharp poke, his smirk gone. What was she doing to it, anyway? Was that the poke of a needle? Experimentation, he supposed, and scowled. To play with such a precious, powerful thing as a Rinnegan was risky as well as unwise. If only it could give him its location… he'd end this war tonight.

Madara got to his feet, narrowing his eyes at the distant village lights far across the whispering forest canopy. Sleep would not come to him with these phantom-limb sensations. Rest in general did not come easy as of late; impatience itched at his fingers, bit at his heels. It was intensely irritating that he had not found Sakura's original self and his lost Rinnegan just yet.

He gestured. The branch he stood upon creaked as if in apology as several more pairs of boots appeared beside his, weighing it further down. Madara's clones swept off into the trees without a word, each heading in different directions, towards villages he had not yet hunted for Sakura in.

He cracked his knuckles before leaping down into the dark, his left eye twitching slightly as he felt the continual, careful ghosting of her fingertips against it.

Sakura ducked into the clothing shop, adrenaline roaring through her ears. Damn it all. He finally shows up to hunt her, and it's in the moment she was caught off-guard, doing some shopping to restock for her no-longer-indefinite stay in this village.

Veering behind a rack of cloaks, Sakura caught her breath for a moment, annoyance far more prevalent in her mind than anything else. Did he have to come for this Sakura-clone today? She'd been gathering some useful dirt on the Tsukuyomi Union, excited to tell her team about it later through Katsuyu.

Sakura let out a deep breath, hearing screams across the village as Madara confidently strode through. As it seemed to be his style, he never bothered trying to approach stealthily; Sakura wondered if he enjoyed civilians' fear, knowing that frightened whispers and drunken stories would be told of him for years to come.

She scowled, turning and snatching a cloak off the rack. She swerved, pulling on a jacket from a hanger. She pulled a pair of scarves around her neck. Grabbing a motley assortment of clothing articles from various racks and displays around her, she dashed into the back, shutting herself into the dressing room. Locking the door, she began pulling on layer after layer, ears prickling as she heard commotion somewhere in the streets outside.

The screams were maybe four blocks away. Sakura tore a couple stitches in the hooded cloak she wrenched over her head. She snapped her hair into a tie so it was pulled back at the nape of her neck. She tugged on the men's coat she grabbed, uncaring that it was baggy; she buttoned that up over the plain sweater she'd thrown on.

Children were crying three blocks away. Sakura huffed as she tugged on a pair of elbow-length gardening gloves. She glanced down at herself, hurriedly turning towards the dressing room's mirror.

She was nearly completely obscured now, looking like a walking closet. She nodded to herself, uncaring of how silly she looked. If she was about to die, then she was going to be useful and test a theory she'd been playing around with in her head while she was at it.

But her face was still entirely visible, and she dashed out of the dressing room with a curse. Spotting a rack of sunglasses, she hurried through a crowded aisle of clothes and confused customers, ignoring the stares she drew wherever she went. "Excuse me, excuse me," she said in a hushed, hurried tone, weaving between people towards the glasses rack and grabbing a face mask off of a nearby display.

Heads soon turned from her to the windows facing the street as more screams and shouts began to surface less than a block away from the clothing shop Sakura was in. She ducked her head as a familiar figure in black and white strode past the windows; she grabbed whatever sunglasses were closest, shoving them up her masked nose and feeling vaguely like a Kakashi gone insane as she grabbed a magazine and hid her face behind that too.

The cashier's attention switched tiredly from the commotion outside back to Sakura; flat eyes swept over her. "You have to pay for all of that, you know. Also… your magazine's upside-down."

"I will, give me a second," Sakura hissed back. She dug around in her pockets before realising her wallet was buried beneath four layers of clothing.

She cursed as noises outside intensified, tossing the magazine back on the counter. "I have to go! My name's Sakura." She pointed to herself unhelpfully. "Haruno Sakura. Ask anyone in Konoha. Have them remind me sometime in the future and I'll send you payment. Bill me? Okay. Gotta go. Bye!"

She ignored the cashier's half-hearted protest as she fled through a rack of bras and underwear, shoving past a scantily-clad mannequin and peering around a display at the front door.

Sakura's stare dragged down a jagged white mane that caught the sunlight. She sucked in a sharp breath as mismatched eyes turned, stabbing into her.

She was gone in a flash, dashing through aisles towards the back exit. There was crashing and shouting somewhere behind her; Sakura careened around a corner and shoved through the fire exit. Alarms blared, lights went off, and she dashed down the street, one of the scarves she'd donned streaming out behind her as she ran. She shot another heavily-clothed clone one way, running down a different path at the same time. Her gloved fingers scrabbled at her flapping coats and scarves, redoing buttons and tying ties, securing her overdressed outfit more tightly against her figure as she ran.

Cats screeched and leapt aside as Sakura sprinted down an alleyway. Loose newspapers and flyers fluttered out behind her in a windy trail of crinkled pages. Sunlight beat down on her cloaked head, and she pulled the cloak more securely around her shoulders, sweating hard beneath her many layers. Not an inch of skin was showing now, and she was grinning, adrenaline pumping through her body as she turned another corner, leaping up onto the top of a dumpster and dashing across a rooftop.

She skidded to the side and dove down through a residence's open window. Rolling into the room, Sakura shook the loose plastic bricks from the floor from her clothes, sitting up and staring for a moment at the child staring at her mid-play with wide eyes.

"Uhh, hi," she said before dashing to her feet and dashing out of the room. She avoided a stunned grandma and dodged a confused father, dancing through a steaming kitchen and pushing out a back door into a small garden. She could hear bootsteps somewhere on the rooftops nearby, and looked around for a new escape, swerving into another alley as she secured another set of buttons with quick fingers.

"This is ridiculous," she heard Madara thundering from above, and she was smirking to herself as she tore out onto the main road, crossing it in a flash of fluttering clothes and desperation. Ignoring the shouts of confused civilians, Sakura ran into a bathhouse, shoving past towelled old men and shrieking women; her feet smacked wetly upon tiled floors as she pushed through locker rooms and out into the main onsen area.

She cursed. There was no back exit from here; she should have guessed that, and swerved as the doors broke open behind her. Several nude men gasped and stumbled out of the water as a furious silhouette emerged, glaring eyes upon Sakura. She held her ground as everyone else vacated the onsen in a flurry of clumsy wet limbs and gasping whispers.

"You haven't paid!" shouted the owner, her hair bun bouncing as she brandished a towel at Sakura.

Sakura blinked, having expected to be caught by her true pursuer. She laughed once before turning away. "Sorry in advance," she said, throwing her fist through the wall.

More shouts, and Sakura leapt into the alley beyond the broken wall, pushing through another residence's back door. She ran through cluttered rooms, dashing on light feet down the hall — she couldn't hear any more screams outside nearby, which must mean she had successfully thrown Madara off for now. Relieved, Sakura snuck into another room, only to freeze as she realised she was in a nursery.

The baby in the crib was fast asleep, and she held her breath, tiptoeing past. A rotating string of colourful shapes hung above the crib, tinkling gentle, soothing sounds.

A red light blinked, and Sakura froze once more. She hissed through her teeth as the baby monitor blinked again. "Who the hell are you?!" came a screech across the house, and Sakura cursed again as the baby stirred. She looked over to it, pressing a finger to her mouth. "Shh," she said to the baby, knowing that her cries would be audible well beyond this house, if the mother's shout hadn't already been enough.

Said mother came stomping through, and Sakura had her hand over her mouth in a flash. "I'm sorry!" she hissed, "I know I look crazy, I probably am crazy, but I'm being chased by someone and I came in here to hide and I'll leave as soon as I can! I promise I'm not here to hurt you, or your child, or anyone at all."

She bit down on her teeth as the mother flailed, stabbing the kitchen knife she was holding into Sakura's side. She clamped her hand harder against her mouth, wincing slightly. "I'll let you go if you don't shout. Please…"

The mother stopped struggling, and Sakura released her, turning to face her. She waved a warding hand at her while patting her side, realising that the knife hadn't so much as pierced more than a layer or two, let alone any skin. Furious, the unfamiliar dark-haired woman poised herself protectively over her baby, onion-covered knife in hand that she brandished at Sakura.

"I'll be going now," Sakura promised her. "I swear it. And, by the way, good strength in that stab with the knife, but if you're going to use a knife on an attacker, use something with a sharp tip." The mother's angry expression faltered with confusion as Sakura took a step back towards the doorway, biting her lip. "A santoku knife isn't the best as a weapon, with that curved front edge. Even just a paring knife with a sharp tip would have done more damage. Or a kunai, I mean, that's much better, but I doubt you have one in your kitchen…"

True fear unfolded across the mother's expression. The knife fell from her pale fingers, and she snatched her baby from the crib, clutching her against her chest, breathing hard. The mother backed up against a wall, her face stricken, her eyes filled with mortal fear.

Sakura frowned beneath her mask, blinking through the dark shade of her sunglasses. Did she come off as that frightening? The thought bothered her.

She lifted her heavily-gloved hands like a criminal under arrest. "I won't hurt you. I promised you that… and I mean it, I'll be leaving now. Thank you, I guess, for letting me hide here a minute." Sakura took a step back, laughing uneasily, her voice muffled beneath her masks and scarves. "He's got to be madder than a hornet by now. I'm sure he'll have some choice words for me when he does eventually catch me. But I can't wait to witness the dumb look on his face when he sees—"

Sakura's back hit a wall, and she began to turn, certain that she had been going through an open doorway.

Large hands curled around her shoulders, holding her still.

Sakura relaxed somewhat, though her heart thudded painfully: it had not been her that was the scary one.

She shivered as Madara tilted his head over her shoulder, turning to look at her face. "'Dumb look', hmm?"

"Regardless of how godly you think you are," Sakura replied cooly, her voice muffled behind her mask, "you are capable of looking dumb."

Madara snorted, releasing her shoulders and brushing past her. The mother and her baby shrieked together, and he ignored them, turning around to face Sakura. His mismatched eyes swept over her once in an appraising glance. Though his expression was pinched with irritation, Sakura could spot the amusement quirking the side of his lips.

She folded her arms, leaning back against the doorway as if encouraging him to take in her bizarre, heavily-clothed image. "I'm testing a theory," she informed him.

Upon glancing over Sakura's ridiculous appearance once more, Madara let out a rich laugh, shaking his head. Sakura flushed beneath her layers, scowling at him. "It's not funny! This is a valid idea. So? Tell me if it works. Can you tell if I'm a clone when I'm fully covered up like this?"

"You know," Madara smirked, eyeing her, "no one has been foolish or brave enough to try such a thing before." He stepped towards her, bringing a hand to her scarf and fingering the woolen fabric. "It is as if you are purposefully entertaining me, now."

Sakura swallowed beneath her collars and scarves. "Well?" came her increasingly crabby reply. She barely noticed as the nearby mother shot her and Madara a confused, frightened, judging look before rushing out through a nearby doorway, clutching her wailing baby.

Madara's smirk deepened as he met Sakura's eyes through the mismatched layers of sunglasses she wore. "Well," he replied, eking a muffled squeak from her as he pulled her towards him by the scarf, "it seems I need to unwrap you to find out."

"Tch." Sakura huffed, arms tightly folded as she stood much too close to him. She swallowed, stomach dropping to her feet as she processed the intent, dangerous look in Madara's eye, his fingers digging into her scarf as he towered over her.

Ah. She should have thought through this part of her idea a little better.

Sakura shifted slightly where she stood, holding her breath.

In her many coats and fabric accessories, Sakura was like a cloth mummy, wrapped up from head to toe in multicoloured fabrics of every texture. She was burning up beneath her many thick layers of clothes, adrenaline spiking like she was still sprinting; her ears stung under her hood, her pulse throbbing beneath constricting collars and scarves. Her gloved hands flexed uneasily, restlessly, but she held her ground, staying still where she was cornered within Madara's heavy scrutiny.

With a tug, Madara spun Sakura around once, freeing her of the multiple scarves and tossing them aside with a flourish. Dark fingers neatly flicked away the buttons of the cloak around her throat; it shed from her shoulders like a slough of rainwater, rippling down to pool at her feet in a flutter of silky folds.

Sakura kept herself perfectly still, lifting her head slightly as she observed Madara's shadowed expression carefully. She pointedly ignored her discomfiture and panicked nerves, watching for the telltale flicker of recognition across his eyes – the confirmation she awaited that Madara had finally recognised her as a clone. Then she could disappear, Sakura promised herself.

Buttons popped free, the creased flaps of the first jacket flying loose. One flick and the jacket shuddered from Sakura's shoulders, revealing another, this one being a fitted raincoat. Gloved fingers broke ties loose and slid along new sets of buttons with subtle finesse, glancing along Sakura's slender curves as he freed her further from her bindings. Her jacket slid away from the sweater beneath, rising and falling rapidly as Sakura breathed shallowly with every lost layer.

She continued to stare up into Madara's face, tracking his gaze that wandered across each new tie, button, and clasp that he broke loose. His hands were quick, yet patient, as if drawing this out. Sakura wasn't sure if she wanted him to rip her free of the binding fabrics to end this quickly, or if she wanted him to stop entirely, her skin afire even though she'd shed several stifling layers. There was something tense in the air between them, and the thick silence made it worse, interrupted only by the sound of Madara's patient exhales, rustling fabric, and Sakura's unsteady breaths.

The sweater fell free, revealing her favourite red qipao; her final layer. A gloved hand slid up along Sakura's neck, tilting her head carefully; the other found the hidden clasps along the seam of her qipao collar. There were soft clinks as he unclasped the collar, his fingertips warm even against the flushed skin of her throat.

He tugged it free, revealing more of her soft skin, and Sakura caught his hand with both of hers, her eyes wide and searching upon his.

Madara exhaled as he shook loose of her grip. Releasing her collar, he captured her hands. He held her stare as he peeled away her gloves, tossing them aside into the pile of clothes that surrounded them both.

He released Sakura's wrists; her hands fell loosely to her sides. She held perfectly still again, her breath caught and held as he freed the face-mask from one ear, the loop falling loose. It fell away from the lower half of Sakura's face, revealing scarlet cheeks and tight lips. Another neat flick of gloved fingers, and the sunglasses were gone.

Neither spoke as Madara met Sakura's unblinking stare once more, his expression unreadable.

She swallowed as his wandering hand retreated; he stood back, and her voice was dry as she finally spoke back up. "So…" She cleared her throat, feeling overexposed in her basic qipao and shorts. "How much skin do you need to see to know if I'm a clone?"

Madara's pupils dilated slightly at her question, and Sakura corrected herself quickly. "I mean! Of course I meant like face, or face and hands, or stuff like that! Not anything else." She looked away from him, embarrassed enough that she was tempted to make herself disappear this second.

Madara's deep chuckle kept her where she stood. He shook his head. "I think you've enjoyed enough of my time for now. Goodbye, clone."

"Wait," Sakura said in a rush, stepping back, her hands lifted in a warding gesture. She belatedly realised how close they had been standing, her cheeks smouldering red with renewed embarrassment. Madara paused, fingers flexing.

Spared for the moment, Sakura took in his face with a blink, glad he hadn't moved to strike just yet.

In the low ochre light of the nearby lamps, Madara looked more human, his skin a warmer hue. His stolen left eye was inky dark instead of an activated Sharingan; his wild silver-white mane fell over the other half of his face, obscuring most of the bony forehead-protector. He looked so much more like just a man to her in this moment, and it returned that prickle of shame beneath the mortal-fear excitement that rashed across her skin. The glancing touches of his hands as he'd unveiled her still had Sakura reeling.

She forcibly ignored the feeling in favour of asking what she wanted to know, reasserting with herself the seriousness of the situation.

"Before you kill me for being a clone," Sakura said carefully, "did you start that cult?"

Madara's brows furrowed, his fingers tapping along his folded arms. "...'Cult'?"

"The self-proclaimed Tsukuyomi Union? Hm. Never mind." Sakura looked away with a scowl. "You wouldn't tell me if you did, anyway."

"Ah, the little movement that's begun." Madara exhaled tiredly. "That was not my doing; it struck up on its own. Why? Does it wound your pride that not everyone thinks your side is in the right?"

Sakura didn't quite know why she felt compelled to be honest with him. "Yes… it does." Madara met her stare levelly; Sakura's voice softened. "I met someone who argued so passionately for it because it would reunite her with dead loved ones. She wanted to end her suffering. I—" She briefly shut her eyes, troubled. "I didn't know what to say at the time. I had never thought of it that way."

Madara regarded Sakura for a long moment, fingers tapping along his white wide sleeves. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling cold now that her extra layers had been shed; her feet were hot, surrounded by the pile of discarded clothing.

"You will find no comfort here." Madara tilted his head quizzically, a mean glint in his stare. "Are you trying to make me think you've begun to sympathise for my cause? Or are you trying to garner my pity?"

"Not at all." Sakura rubbed at her arms, wondering why she'd brought this up with him at all. She couldn't expect Madara to be honest with her in return; she shouldn't risk talking with him, but she wanted to try.

She searched his face, looking for answers within his eyes if not from his cagey, short replies. "Why do you do it? What is it that drives you to push for such a doomed future? Even if it was for reasons like hers…" Sakura thought of the old tailor, the memory needling through her heart. Her, and all the people she'd seen joining up for Madara's cause, that grim look behind their stares haunting Sakura's subconscious in permanence.

There was a flicker somewhere behind Madara's mismatched eyes that was quickly gone. He lifted his gloved hand through the space between them, his fingertips grazing along her throat warningly. "Come now; you only initiated this chat in hopes for more wasted time, which I have no intention of granting to you again."

Sakura didn't try to struggle as Madara slid his fingers fully around her neck. She continually searched for what lost thought she'd glimpsed behind his heavy stare. "That's not true," she said, swallowing hard beneath his grip. She wasn't afraid as he loomed over her, frowning down into her earnest, troubled face. "I really do want to know. I want to understand," she said honestly as he squeezed, and she disappeared in a plume of steam.

Madara's brows knotted as he frowned down at where Sakura had been, her words lingering on in the silence that followed her absence.