There were a hundred things on the tip of Sakura's tongue that she wanted to say as she caught back up with Madara, but as soon as her fingers clasped around his elbow her gut was dropping into her stomach and the two of them were plummeting through a Kamui portal.

Her exclamation of surprise was lost in the whipping wind as they landed hard on their feet upon roof tiles. Sakura looked up in time to see the unexpected portal close back up behind them in a swirling of air, leaving the cold cement darkness behind and fading into a patch of blue sky instead.

She nearly stumbled again, pulled back by Madara's grip on her arm into the single square of shadow upon where they had arrived. Their backs were against the high jutting eave of another section of rooftop overlooking where they stood — an expanse of sunny red-orange tiles spilling out across the breadth of the Konoha cityscape, one rooftop among hundreds.

She breathed in, steadying herself. The spring air was cold and clear, a pleasant chill in the passing breeze making the hair flicker across the both of their faces where they stood within safe shade from the onlooking sun. It was late morning at this point, cresting towards noon, and the distant white noise of the busy village streets below reached her ears in a buzzing of mixed voices and feet, of shouting vendors and bustling life in all directions.

Sakura had a steadying hand upon a nearby section of pipe as she blinked away her brief dizzy spell from the sudden fall. She shook her head a few times to clear her brain, the questions and sentiments she'd had having fallen off her tongue for now in the wake of their sudden exit. Aware of how they were still somewhat exposed regardless of the cooling shade, Sakura ran a hand over her goosebump-rashed arms, glancing around the sunny rooftops warily.

She felt Madara's expectant glance as she turned to him with a huff. "Jerk, you could have warned me," she elbowed him, noticing the amused glint in his gaze upon her awaited complaint. "Why did we have to leave the Kamui dimension already?"

Sakura's eyes roved over the rooftop they were on, then across the rest of the sun-spilled buildings that surrounded them. Turning slightly, she could see the hospital a couple of blocks away, recognising that Madara had measured where to walk within the cement dimension with just enough precision to land them in their exit here, safely away upon an unseen rooftop nearby.

"What… did you expect that we would stay in that dimension? Live there, perhaps?" he asked, stretching his arms and cracking his fingers. The mixed ire and amusement in Madara's tone told her just how ridiculous he found the idea, if the way he looked down at her wasn't enough.

She imagined the suggested ridiculous idea — camps made between cement blocks, days and nights passing with little recognition of the actual time without sunlight nor moonlight to go by. The eerie silence of the dimension would make tensions worse with knowing Obito could appear at any time, ruining any semblance of privacy either, and the whole idea was unappealing in the least.

Sakura had briefly entertained the suggestion of living there before now, she admitted to herself, but she scoffed as if she never had, looking away from Madara with a casual wave. "Of course not," she sighed, adjusting her ruffled clothes and backing up a little further into the shade. "But it was a little safer than an open rooftop."

Her gaze lingered upon Madara as he turned, his intent attention shifting to the nearby edge of the rooftop that led down into a side street. Knowing she should follow, she paused for a moment instead while he strode forward, her gaze sweeping over him.

His words live there, perhaps repeated in her ears, murmuring against her mind once more and becoming a question.

Not in Obito's dimension, of course; but now that they were relatively free, would they live together…?

Sakura reddened slightly, fiddling with the ring on her hand. She stared at Madara's back while the question ran circles in her head, leaving heavy track marks with its weight.

Madara waited a moment at the rooftop's edge before glancing back at her with a mildly annoyed, impatient look. Sakura took in his image just a second longer, still struck with the reality that he was here with her. It had only been a matter of hours ago, after all, when she'd still believed he was sealed away or dead, and the fact that he wasn't was still sinking in for her. And so she stared; appreciating this fact, and appreciating him overall for a moment longer.

All the dampness had mostly dissipated from Madara's wild mane. Even in the shade its untamed white locks of hair jetted out in brilliant white-silver colour around his shoulders and down his back, shining in the muted daylight. It fell in bright contrast against his dark robes; the rest of him was like living ink, as silken-dark as nighttime with his black gloves and boots. Tall and broad-shouldered, he cut a striking figure where he stood.

Striking, and noticeable, especially here. He glanced at her again, this time more confused than just impatient, and Sakura broke free from her pensive pause with a quick exhale and a red tint about her cheeks.

Pretending she hadn't been blatantly staring, she hurried back to Madara's side. With another sparing glance the two of them jumped down in tandem, their movements fluid and seamless.

Like a pair of alley cats they landed in graceful silence, their clothes whispering around their figures. As they rose to their feet Sakura dismissed a thought that this was another new memory made between them in an alley. Looking over, she noticed that there were even a few faded Union flyers still tacked onto the nearby wall, fluttering in the spring breeze.

How many times had they met in side-streets and hidden corners of villages all across the nation in the last year, intentionally or otherwise? Sakura smiled a little as she remembered burning a few of those Union flyers in a small alley campfire she'd made so long before. A homeless clone, she had hunched there with stray cats and bento bought from contract-nursing, stewing over her master plans on how to thwart her great and dreaded enemy before he made another inevitable appearance.

Sakura hummed to herself, a hand grazing her hidden smile. Those days had been a little simpler; the chase exciting and terrifying and stressful at once. She was glad it was over, though she had enjoyed it more in retrospect than she had thought at the time. Maybe it had driven her with personal purpose beyond pursuing and protecting Naruto and Sasuke; maybe it had given her a new respect and taste for danger. Maybe it was just the thrilling adventure of it all, teetering over the justifying resolve to save everyone and risk everything at once. Or perhaps she'd just enjoyed the chase itself: Madara being as unpredictable and capricious as he was, forcing her to be increasingly inventive and evasive just to survive day to day.

It had all become nostalgic, affectionate memories for her now; now that the war was over, and now that he was here — she could reminisce about it aloud. Turning to Madara with a secretive smile that became a sideways grin, Sakura nudged him playfully, gesturing around at the alley.

"Do you remember that?" she prodded him, meeting the subtly aglow touch of his mismatched eyes through the shadows of the alleyway. "I think the same spring festival is happening around now, maybe even tonight." Her gaze strayed to the old flyers on the wall, her hand stuttering over her heart that beat with warm nostalgia. "It reminds me of that night you accosted me in an alley like this, almost exactly a year ago," Madara arched his brows as she went on, "and I had to pretend to enjoy your attention when that old couple spotted you harassing me."

Madara snorted, pushing loose silvery-white hair from his face and eyeing Sakura. A dark hand waved dismissively in the air between them as his appraising gaze slid over her. "Even then; you were not pretending."

"Yes I was!" she insisted, striding up and standing directly before him. Poking Madara in the chest with a pointing finger, Sakura looked up into his smug expression with a half-serious protest, this subject being a matter of pride for her. "I wasn't always into you, you know. Back then I was still doing my best to hate you. It was my duty and my job to take you down."

Sakura squeaked as he snatched her by the hips and swerved the two of them around, pressing her against the alley wall in a whoosh of air. Pushing the wild pink hair from her face, Madara snaked his grin down along her ear, burying her in white locks and dark robes and warmth with a devious hand sliding along the curve of her waist. "You forget how you honestly admitted I was your…" He paused, enunciating the word teasingly against her ear, "...interest. Remember, Sakura?"

"Of course I remember!" The position he had her in was quite similar to the one they had been caught in that night, something Sakura didn't doubt was intentional on his part, and she huffed as she shoved lightly at him, enjoying his attention anyway. "I wasn't going to lie to them that you were my boyfriend, or something," she whined. Shivering gladly beneath Madara's iron grip, she recalled her wounded pride that night, the way she had indeed unexpectedly liked his proximity but had hated it at the same time. She wanted him to know she hadn't fallen for him that soon, though; what kind of kunoichi would she be if she had? "It's what that suspicious old couple expected to hear but I was too mortified to say it to your face even as a lie. I don't know. 'Interest' is all I could think of at the time. You were distracting me…"

His teeth grazed her ear as he drew his mouth down along her neck, and Sakura arched against him with a long, desirous exhale, shutting her eyes and absorbing the sensations with pleasure. Matters of pride or not, it was getting harder to care about proving her point the more he elicited such sensations. It had been hard enough to show restraint back in the hospital bathroom, and it was getting difficult here as well. Sakura half-wondered how starved the two of them were that they couldn't keep their hands off each other as she pulled him to her a little harder, that ache heatedly returning regardless of her thoughts.

"I do really like your attentions now. You've hooked me. I can't help it," Sakura hummed, pulling her arms around Madara's shoulders and leaning into him, breathing a little harder. "But must we always do this in alleys?"

There was a serious note in her tone that had him withdrawing, meeting her eye. The note resolved like a shift into a chord as their gazes levelled once more; this was an important subject among many that needed discussion. There was much to figure out in the wake of the events of the past few days.

It sobered both of the heat that had been steadily building up between them once more. Drawing back, they adjusted themselves, Sakura fixing her hair and ruffled clothes while Madara glanced to either side of the alleyway, ever-aware of their surroundings. "We'll always be interrupted and eventually caught if we carry on in secret like this," Sakura said softly after a stretch of quiet between them, standing tall and meeting his eye calmly. "I'd like to plan our eventual reveal, this time."

Madara held her stare, his expression defaulting to that cold, imperious set look as he narrowed his eyes, examining her to find if she was truly serious or not. With her back straight and her head held high, she withstood his calculative, digging gaze without falter, her own expression firmed into one of cool resolve.

"In fact, while we're talking about this," Sakura went on, a gleam of determined excitement dancing across her green gaze, "I want you to—"

Loud voices in the street nearby had the two of them suddenly against the side of the alley once more, this time with both of their backs to the wall and their shapes encased neatly in shadow, hiding them from view as they watched people pass by the alley mouth. It was immediately obvious to them that this was like a town crier — his voice carrying through the din of the crowded street and one arm waving with his other arm holding a stack of newspapers.

"Big news of the day!" the scrawny teen was saying, waving his arm back and forth as he walked, "The famous Sakura is missing! The Second Coming of the Sannin have another exile! Has she abandoned Konoha like Uchiha Sasuke did years ago? Read today's latest paper to find out!"

The teen was paused just within sight of the alley as multiple people in the passing crowds stopped to buy a newspaper. He happily accepted an assortment of ryo, the stack in his arms significantly lighter as he continued on down the street, repeating his advertising shouts for the newspaper he worked for.

"Oh no. Oh crap," Sakura was cursing under her breath. She leaned forward with a hand on Madara's arm, looking further down the alley with visible panic. "I didn't tell my parents where I was going last night. I've been gone a while now, they must think I was kidnapped or something. But the news already…?!"

"You're living with your parents?" came his question that went ignored as Sakura had begun to rush towards the sunny crowds, eager to shut down that newspaper boy and his tirade — but she was quickly stopped by the dark hand gripping her shoulder, pulling her back.

Sakura swerved towards Madara with a spilling of words, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I have to go tell them I'm all right, and get these newspapers to shut the hell up. I don't even know all of the stuff they've been saying about me since the war's end, but this is going to make it so much worse. I can't—"

"Not as you are. The stories will worsen either way; you need to reveal yourself at the right time and address the correct people." Madara stood in her way, as stony calm as ever. "Think carefully before you make such decisions… Is that not obvious to you?"

Sakura let out a frustrated sound, but knowing he was right she sighed, shaking off his grip and folding her arms. "Whatever." She heard the childish tone in her own response and scowled at herself, running a hand over her ringed finger. She wasn't on her own anymore; the decisions she made affected them both, and she wasn't used to it. More than ever she felt insecure in Madara's presence about how much younger she was than him, and Sakura cleared her throat uncomfortably, acting casually once more as she hoped he would forgive and forget her brash and childish near-mistake she'd nearly made just now rushing to confront the newspaper kid in the open street. It would have made a scene… it might have exposed Madara just behind her in the alley. It had been foolish.

Did he think of her like a child now? The not-quite-silly question skidded through Sakura's thoughts and she glanced up at him anxiously, worried he did.

Madara was eyeing her with stony, unamused impatience again, but not derision or disgust as he might have a year previously.

Exhaling slowly, Sakura internally scolded herself not to embarrass herself again in front of him. Maybe the two of them were on some pretty solid ground as a pair, but that didn't mean she couldn't mess that up. Be an adult about it. She ran a hand through her hair, releasing a deep breath. "Sorry," she said belatedly, increasingly embarrassed. "I'm just… it's been a rough couple of weeks."

She felt Madara's gaze on her flicker with her words, as if a parade of all the things she had been through scrolled down his vision in an extensive list. Her underground stay with Orochimaru and his team; her trial before the Kages and all the villages… Hashirama's genjutsu, her injury in the trap, and all of her frustration; expending everything she had to save thousands of soldiers at once, and then watching Madara be sealed and essentially killed in front of her by her own teammates, and all the fallout after—

"You need not apologise." Sakura startled from the hand grazing her chin, lifting her face so she would meet his shadowed, mismatched stare that glowed subtly in the shadows of the alley. She softened with relief as she read the forgiving understanding behind the sharpness of Madara's intimidating eyes; a tempered edge she knew he would only ever allow her to witness. "Be at ease… wife."

"Hold on," Sakura reddened, the whole of her tomato-scarlet and her hands waving wildly before her. "We're not, we're not there yet, I'm just… I'm…" She huffed before her hands flew up in a blur, Madara startling as Sakura abruptly wrenched his face down to hers in a quick, forceful meeting of mouths.

He replied with sly, subtly smirking ease. She pulled back with a shaky breath, lips slipping off of his, her heart pounding hard enough she was certain he could hear it. She closed her eyes, breathing in his calm and steadiness, adapting his calm for herself as her heartbeat gradually slowed.

Sakura admired him for his stoicism regardless of the situation. She appreciated his implicit understanding of why she wasn't quite herself after all she had been through, and her gratitude for Madara swelled up from her heart, tightening her throat for a moment. In a moment of peace, she leaned into him, sharing in a moment of quietude.

The sounds of Konoha thriving in a lively spring day continued on beyond the cool shade of their alley. Birdsong floated from above, the breeze winding between buildings and dancing down from rooftop eaves, sending loose forgotten dead leaves from the previous fall spiralling from dark corners and clogged gutters; sounds that accompanied the clatter and chatter of people in their endless races down the main streets, going to and fro in all their daily routines.

It was a soundtrack that had accompanied most of Sakura's life, and one that Madara had helped compose, in a previous life. They sunk into its familiar tracks until she found that she was willing to interrupt their perfect stretch of peace to progress the day; for they couldn't stay there like that forever, no matter how much either wanted to.

"So we have to hide ourselves, to come out of hiding," Sakura sighed, shifting back and looking up into Madara's face, regretful to end the moment between them. "But how, exactly, this time?"

She jumped slightly, surprised that his appearance had changed already; she found herself looking up at Madara as he had been when he had walked the Konoha streets as a Founder, long ago. With hale skin and dark eyes he regarded her cooly. Black hair fell in a jagged array down around his face and back, and she noticed his similarly dark robes were now made carefully unadorned, the white Six Paths symbols missing. He was a cutout of the night sky made to walk through the day, towering in an intimidating stature, and exactly as he would be when the two of them would blatantly stride the streets of Konoha in the last year, different enough not to be recognised but striking enough to still draw attention.

"You're too recognisable still, no matter what we got away with before," Sakura sighed through her nose, "we need to get you a hat, or something." She ignored Madara's newly expectant glance, raking her hands through her hair as she flipped through the options in her head. Her Union disguise was too thin, and Sasaki was apparently too famous to wear her guise either. She didn't want to use her blonde henge that Madara had disliked, and she felt uncreative otherwise, unwilling to take on any other appearances and feeling out of ideas. Frustrated, Sakura glanced around the alley as if she might find inspiration from something nearby.

Madara's moody reply soon brought her attention back to him. "I do not prefer hats."

"Then pick a different henge!" Sakura brushed a hand through his wild dark hair. "It's that mane of yours. It's so easy to recognise. Come on, surely you can bear the dent to your pride in looking like someone else so we can walk in the sun instead of hiding here like vampires. Why not look like, say, a normal old man, or like a basic shinobi, or something?"

"Take your own advice. You will need to do the same," Madara answered her with visible ire, "your previous 'disguise' was merely an extension of your hair length and a flouncy hat. I am surprised it worked to hide your identity at Union meetings as long as it did."

Sakura wasn't listening to him, tapping her fingers along her growing smile. "You know… you are a lot like a vampire." She appraised Madara with a look both approving and amused, her dancing green eyes swinging from his cutting stature to his dark hair and eyes, his pale skin and towering, intimidating frame. "Maybe you could disguise yourself like Dracula for today. That'd be a good look for you."

She grinned at her own idea while Madara narrowed his eyes. He stood back from her with folded arms, scowling. "I do not know what 'Dracula' looks like."

Sakura hummed, tickled a little further as she viewed Madara once more. He really was like an ancient vampire, being pale and haunting with glowing eyes. Deciding she loved this idea either for today's escapades or for a future costume, she ran with it, her gaze slinking over his frame once more in a manner she knew was unsubtly suggestive. "Well… the black hair, but also facial hair, I think."

Her eyes widened upon Madara's face as she drew closer with curiosity and increasing mirth. Ignoring his prickly manner and rankling scowl, Sakura drew her fingers along his cheeks, beaming not-so-innocently up at him. "You know, I would love to see that. What do you look like with a beard? Can you even grow one?"

"Of course I can," he snapped back at her, making her giggle. "Oh, don't be insulted. I like how you look. But I suppose if you won't be Dracula, maybe you could…"

Sakura's smile fell as she searched Madara's face. The idea crossed the threshold of her mind and stood in the middle, refusing to leave.

She paused, paling slightly, her manner becoming serious once more. Madara watched her with curiosity, his irritation fading as his interest in her shift of mood grew.

"It's probably a crazy idea. I don't know why I think you'd know," Sakura was saying mostly to herself, "I shouldn't bring it up."

Madara leaned back against the alley wall, folding his arms and eyeing her. "Try me. With as long as I have lived I know a great many more things than you must be assuming."

The emergence of the pair from the side-street into the main road was immediately noticed by passers-by.

The sun illuminated them both in a press of white-gold light that cut the shadows from their figures and followed them as they strode past strangers, pretending to be unaware of their stares. With poise and deadly confidence in their matching strides, they moved with a sense of belonging through the crowds, done so effectively that the attention they'd drawn already began to stray.

They were striking individually, as well as as a pair: the man no one was able to recognise as Indra passed a subtly victorious glance down to his wife at his side, who tightened her grip around his elbow. Long, pale hair shifted down her shoulders and danced in perfect straight tresses past her waist, pale in its cherry-blossom shade not quite white but close to it. Her figure was carefully wrapped in a dark and modest yukata that accentuated her curves but left her confident stride uninhibited. She was every bit the picture of loveliness as she accompanied Indra beside her.

His gaze shifted from her to the road ahead, the wizened, knowing crinkle about his eyes hidden by the youth of his face looking no older than thirty. Thick hair in a rich cocoa shade shifted around his face, the rest of his long dark locks tied behind his head and streaming down his back. Two strands adorned with hair wraps framed his features, the shadows of lavender around his eyes subtle. Indra's eyes were rich pools of blackness rather than red Sharingans, though he still commanded all of the intimidating power of his original self as well as that of the disguise he wore.

Any stares magnetised to him or to the woman at his side were drawn to their striking attractiveness, their sheer confidence, or the image they made as a pair; not for their identities, and none with suspicion. Strangers' gazes lingered long enough to sate their curiosity, but only until they remembered it was impolite to stare.

"An effective disguise," Madara as Indra murmured to Sakura at his side, and she hummed in agreement, though she was still subtly uneasy as they walked again among the rest of the people of Konoha in broad daylight. She kept close beside him, her grip around his elbow tight, her green gaze shifting back and forth across the faces of people they passed by. The ring on her hand shone in the sunlight, and both of their eyes caught on it occasionally.

His stare returned to her, lingering. Sakura had become a changed depiction of beauty, a more ancient one — like she was a woman summoned from the time of his true youth or from before. Beauty, but also strength and resolve, ferocity and tenacity: a hundred different applicable descriptors that concluded beneath the simple but accurate word ideal.

Something stirred within him as he watched her, deeply buried but ever-present. She was a haunting, lovely ghost from his past as she strode at his side, wearing her ancient image; one that had shadowed dreams and nightmares he'd endured while dying before Sakura had found him. He hadn't had the time to ponder these dreams in full, but the fact she had been haunted by similar dreams of Indra had been interesting to him in the very least.

Madara knew of Indra, as he knew of Ashura and their father the Sage of Six Paths. He had known the barest skeleton of their history from what he had learned from the Uchiha stone tablet, citing Indra as their ancestor. He had suspected a medley of things that had only been theories for decades; theories and ideas mixed with his keen senses and determination that had led to him managing to evolve his Rinnegan on his own by fusing his own DNA with stolen Hashirama cells.

While this had confirmed the tablet's writings to an extent, Madara had not known, until more recently, the latter half of it; the rest of the truth that he was Indra's reincarnate. While the theory made enough sense to be believable, he wasn't about to take whisperings from dreams as fact until they were repeated not just by strange visitors in dreams, but by Black Zetsu, during the time Sakura had still been asleep.

As I'm just the incarnation of your will, I can't give true answers but simply confirmations of what you already know, he had answered Madara in a way that was guarded. After another curt, steely prompting, Black Zetsu had confirmed it almost regretfully. But it is true. You sensed it instinctively when you met Hashirama. You also sensed it upon meeting Sasuke and Naruto. They learned this truth using ways I'm unsure of during this war, and you've always known it as well, just unconsciously… You are each reincarnates of Indra and Ashura, brothers sworn to return over and over through the centuries.

Madara had never mentioned Indra to Sakura; and while it was possible she might have learned of him from either of her teammates before, he sensed that she hadn't. Because of this it had been jarring to him when she had brought up Indra, and so soon after he'd finally learned the rest of the truth about his origins — claiming nervously like he would be upset with her that Indra had ghosted her dreams, and in a way had helped to guide her to find Madara before it was too late.

Sakura had been embarrassed to admit this in her rushed alleyway explanation, and a touch guilty, like she'd felt that meeting with Indra in her dreams was a slight of some kind or some bizarre form of cheating. It was sweet, just as it was comforting, in a sense; she was ever so loyal.

But what did these things mean? With Indra's face Madara looked up to the clear, pensive blue skies, his dark gaze flickering across it as if the hidden stars might carry his answers while he walked at Sakura's side down the sunny street. Why would his ancestor be haunting Sakura's dreams rather than only his own? Did it mean she had a larger part to play in his past, or just in his future?

There had been nothing more to learn from Black Zetsu, who had returned to a guarded manner. He was already quietly disapproving as he'd retrieved the ring at Madara's command and brought it to him earlier, saying nothing, his disquietude oozing from his strange dark frame in tense silence.

Madara frowned as he walked beside Sakura, instinctively already comfortable within Indra's skin as he thought. He ignored the interested stares of men and women alike as he strode onwards with a hand ghosting Sakura's back possessively.

Black Zetsu had always been quiet when it came to subjects involving the Uchiha stone tablet or ancient family history, and while that had never roused his suspicion before, it struck a discordant note with Madara now. There was something about Black Zetsu he was sensing was off; something he didn't trust, and while he didn't consider this an issue prevalent enough for the moment while he was settling the current situation with Sakura, it was certainly something he would be looking into more once he was in a safer, consistent setting.

He could feel him in his shadow even now, always following closely. For decades he had been certain of who and what Black Zetsu was, even just the question of it assumed and forgotten until Sakura had been the one to express to him her doubts and suspicions about Black Zetsu's true nature. Her consistent dislike, suspicion and mistrust of him had been something Madara didn't take seriously for a long time — not until he began to have those suspicions, himself.

It may still be nothing, and so he would not trouble himself over it for the moment as he returned his attention to Sakura at his side, wearing the image of the woman he had described to her perfectly. It was strange to see the visitor from his dying fever dreams brought to life at his side, worn by Sakura as comfortably as if they were one and the same in the first place. These disguises were wise; no one alive could recognise their faces, and so these would be likely their favoured ones to wear when they needed to traverse the public.

It hadn't struck Madara until now how very similar their images were. The woman he understood to be Indra's wife was eerily reminiscent of Sakura; like an ancient version of her. Was it possible…?

"Oh!" Sakura halted in the middle of the street, her stare wide upon something she'd spotted across the crowded street. Madara stood in shadow at her side, his eyes narrowing automatically as he followed where she was looking; only to be startled slightly as she broke free and hurried forward, weaving through the crowd, exclaiming as her disguise faded in her rush and her normal, short-haired appearance returned.

Paused only momentarily and maintaining Indra's image, Madara tailed her, annoyed but already understanding as Sakura crashed through a group of people to skid to a halt before the woman he recognised as her mother.

"Mom! I'm so sorry. I forgot to tell you! I'm okay," Sakura greeted her in a blur of words, waving her hands placatingly as her stunned mother took a startled step back, blinking at Sakura a few times. She had a bag of groceries in hand, having just exited a shop and likely on her way home, and she had nearly dropped it when Sakura had shoved her way towards her out of nowhere, still going on in a rushed explanation. "I just helped out at the hospital for an emergency thing late last night and forgot to tell you, and worked all night, and slept a bit this morning because I was so tired. I'm so sorry if I worried you."

Mebuki's eyes widened upon Sakura before she wrenched her to her in a hug quick and almost violent, her blonde hair spilling around her weary face as she hugged her tightly. A few vegetables fell from the bag she held to the ground as she then shoved backwards, shouting already. "You should have told us right away! We were so worried! I was asking your friends if you'd stayed with any of them, and none of them knew where you were. Kizashi and I were about to approach the Hokage herself to ask as a last resort if you didn't show up by lunchtime. But then of course some nosy, idiotic journalists overheard us talking about you this morning and printed these — these stupid headlines!" Mebuki caught her breath, red in the face as she went on. "Everyone thinks you've abandoned Konoha, just like Sasuke did years ago. Everyone thinks… well—" They both glanced at a nearby storefront, where several of said newspapers could be seen, their headlines in large block print, "—well, you know. Sakura, I thought you weren't working right now while you grieved. You should have at least left us a note. You left without a word to us, and after all you've been through — with all we've been through! What were you thinking?!"

Sakura was eyeing Mebuki oddly as she picked up the fallen vegetables, brushing them off and putting them back in the bag she carried. Clearing her throat, she straightened her clothes from her run over here, glancing around nervously to see that her previous company wasn't nearby and then looking quickly back to Mebuki in a distracted way. "Why are you in all black?"

Mebuki huffed, folding her arms. "Are you sure you're all right, Sakura? I don't really believe that you were working. With you being in your room night and day, this last week, grieving so much for Madara; we weren't sure when—"

"Yeah, um, anyway," Sakura interrupted with a flush across her cheeks, remembering "Indra" was somewhere close and most certainly listening, "your clothes…?"

"The funeral, idiot girl!" Mebuki gestured frustratedly. "I was trying to tell you. It's soon, very soon. And it's good you're here because it's, as I've heard," she stood tall, looking nervous, "a big deal. Everyone's going to be there and not just from our village. We'll need to look nice."

Sakura had gone pale. Mebuki folded her arms, the annoyance across her expression softening with understanding. "You forgot? Ah, but you lost track of time while you've been upset. I know." She reached out again, pulling Sakura to her in a warmer hug. "I'm so glad I ran into you. I was so worried."

Sakura cursed under her breath as she withdrew, her manner hurried once more. "I can't believe I forgot it's today," she said, looking cross before she regarded Mebuki apologetically. "I'm sorry. I can't attend with you. I…" She glanced backwards, and while she couldn't see him in the crowds she felt Madara's eyes digging into her back. Pausing, Sakura turned back towards her mother expecting her protest only to see her nodding. "Right; you're supposed to be with them up at the front. I nearly forgot your teammates are the organisers of this whole thing. They'll be waiting for you right around now, Sakura; you had better hurry up and join them."

Sakura's face had gone blank again, and Mebuki was sighing as she waved her off. "Go on, then. I'll be glad to see you make up with them after all of this mess. It's nice enough seeing you out of the house, regardless of the newspapers."

And before Sakura could say a word more, Mebuki was walking off, and Sakura found herself tugged back into the safe relative obscurity of a shadowed street-corner with familiar large hands at her arm. "Funeral?" came his low growl.

Sakura turned towards him, struck odd once more as she peered up into Indra's face. For a moment she thought, very briefly, that she was dreaming again: he was a perfect echo of the Indra that had been haunting her dreams, that had demanded she not give up before. She remembered his calloused palms around her face, and she swallowed a little thickly as she still recognised Madara as attractive in this form as well, his presence around her oozing with power and inky darkness as always.

She drew closer in response, feeling their half-privacy in this corner no one was near, and brought her face up near his, tilting a kiss against his jaw and feeling him stiffen with surprise at her somewhat public affection. "Yes…" Sakura shut her eyes, trying not to sink fully into his warmth and disappear gladly, "it's for all the dead from the war. From both sides."

"Hm." She withdrew, meeting Madara's eyes. "It will be for you, as well."

They were both well aware of the crowds moving around them; of the actual lack of any privacy, and Sakura withdrew from his personal space regretfully, looking down at her feet with a sigh. "I'm going. I promised Kakashi I would, even if I haven't forgiven the rest of them." She looked back up into Madara's disguised face, searching his features and unable to help but to reach up and touch along his cheek, endlessly grateful he was here with her. "I can't take you with me to this, as you or as Indra. I'm too worried they'll sense you. I don't want to part from you, though. I'd ask you to send a Limbo clone with me, but Sasuke's eyes…"

The both of their expressions hardened somewhat, remembering. While Limbo clones were invisible to everyone, Naruto and Sasuke were the two notable exceptions.

"Do not worry." Sakura's tension melted somewhat just from the familiar, rumbling tenor of Madara's voice easing through her; then she melted a little further from the possessive hand sliding along the side of her throat, his thumb drawing thoughtfully along her jaw. "I will not be far from you."

She answered him softly, her eyes half-shut as she absorbed the feel of his touch along her face, the burrowing of his gaze into hers. "Does this mean you'll be attending?" She swallowed as he withdrew with a hum, her voice softening a little further. "...Attending your own funeral?"

"Yes."

Sakura nodded, looking down at their feet. "Then I'll look for you in the crowd. I'm glad you'll be nearby… this will be hard for me to go through." She shut her eyes, seeking strength from within already. "Knowing you're there will help. Knowing you're alive will help." Her head jerked back upwards as she searched Madara's disguised face, absorbing the facets she recognised of him behind Indra's handsome features. "And we'll meet back up afterwards, and um," she straightened further, hating the tint in her otherwise serious expression, "figure out the rest then."

"Indeed." His responding crooked smile was all Sakura needed — reawakening all of those sentiments of unvoiced hope and anticipation in the swell of her heart. She knew it in the solidifying feeling of trust that followed that swell: being alone for this today would be difficult, but it was her tremendous excitement for all of the rest of the days at his side to follow that would pull her through.

This knowledge drove her every step as she turned away and strode towards the Hokage tower on her own, the lingering weight of Madara's heavy gaze upon her back helping to drive her the rest of the way onward.