My sketch outlines look horrible but I hope that I can save it with the coloration lol Sasori is already pretty much finished Sai is next as you can see down below ahhh still can’t decide which other characters to add jsjavakahajakbsbs
#wip Poppies shall soon be added! ❤ ahhh I am still thinking who to add in this piece I thought about the most prominent characters in Sakura’s dreams such as Sai, Sasori, Pein, Itachi and Madara? Idk can anyone give me more ideas
Around this time, various things are happening. In such a difficult situation, the appearance of protecting a loved one even if he changes his life is sad and painful, but it is the most brilliant and beautiful. I am always grateful for your help.
Much bad things happening now around the world, if you saw this post, remember it’s okay to just escape a little while, you need store more energy before facing the cruel reality.
If anyone curious what is tihs ,I’ll tell you that I don’t know LOL
but, may it isA mystery magical girl finding a place she can call home, with her companion who once king of the magical land before turning into horse by curse.
yeah… Elden ring makes me obsessed with fantasy again.
AN: A MadaSaku coming-of-age story based around 1910 in Japan (and later, England), where Madara and Sakura meet as children. Warnings for a parent spanking their child, smoking, dubcon sexual content, sexual content between minors, and mild xenophobia. Based on artwork by @yomi-gaeru as a gift for her after all the wonderful inspiration she has provided over the years!
Art to Holding Hands prompt from Come Home antology by @victoriacapo
Due to some tumblr malfunctions it is me who is posting it, but the art belongs fully to @victoriacapo!
Thank you SO MUCH for it, it is just so beautiful! The perspective is so unique (it must have been crazy difficult…) and perfectly fitting to the story which is such a deep Sakura’s POV. This story is my absolute fav out of all the things I’ve written and so is this exact moment (and yes, I was saying that Let Me In may be on the top, but now when I critically re-read it, esp. chapter 3, I see some flaws). Thank you!!!!
Also: I have an impression that the style is very different than your usual one. It looks more like painted with brushes and paint, it has much less lineart than usually? Also there is lighting indicated through color-changes…? It really looks like a full-blown painting….
“N–No way… I can’t believe it! Shinobi Wars VII: The Chakra Awakens!!!” With eyes as wide as saucers, Izuna gawks at the object on his lap in disbelief. He’s ecstatic. Tossing the wrapping paper to the side, he picks up the case and brings it to his nose, examining the title and design across the cover. “This just came out. I can’t wait to play this with Ichiro! He’s going to be so jealous…” A slight tremble runs through his hands as he grips the game, holding onto it like it’s a lost treasure.
Taking a sip of warm ginger tea, Sakura quietly glances at the man sitting beside her on the sofa. He seems pleased with himself at their son’s reaction, the corners of his lips lifting in a slight smirk. Izuna and his friends are crazy about the Shinobi Wars series. Playing games, watching the movies, collecting action figures… The seventh video game came out recently and sold out within minutes. She has no clue how Madara got his hands on one and isn’t about to ask, either.
“How sad for Hashirama… So disappointed he couldn’t find a copy for his son.” The wicked grin on his face while wrapping the gift was unnerving, yet normal for anything involving the Senju. Like Izuna and Ichiro, Madara and Hashirama were childhood friends and rivals. It gave him immense pleasure to succeed where his longtime friend could not.
So, I wanted to get this out on the 24th (Madara’s Birthday) or on Christmas, but alas… I failed . “Hanami” is going to be a collection of one-shots for MadaSaku, mostly prequel chapters, AU’s, or self-indulgent nonsense (like the post above) that are connected to “Dreams of a Monomaniac”. I’m on one hell of a MadaSaku kick thanks to all the amazing fanartists for this ship and their beautiful work inspiring me!
This is a holiday one-shot and modern-day AU of DoaM. Just some fluff to brighten things up while I try getting back into my stride with writing. After a five-month(?) break, I need all the practice I can get lol. I hope you guys enjoy it and even though I’m toeing the line, Happy Holidays!
Madara stared at his phone with a look of utter disgust.
He knew that number. He loathed that number.
The person on the other end of this call was like a piece of gum he accidentally stepped on when he was a kid and never could scrape off the sole of his shoe. Take the feeling of coarse sand getting on the inside of your swimwear and rubbing you in all the wrong places combined with that feeling of revulsion whenever you have to get that slimy clump of hair out of your shower drain and multiply that by a thousand – that was exactly what Madara felt every time hecalled.
Resigning himself to his fate, he moved his thumb to the accept call button while suspiciously eying the caller ID – it read DUMBASS in capital letters, though if it were up to the caller himself, he probably would have saved his number under BFFS 4EVA.
Madara’s thumb pressed down on the green icon and he immediately had to hold his phone away when he was met with ear-piercing laughter.
“Madara, old chap, how are you, how are things with the orchestra, are you still torturing your little musicians? You know what, I don’t care, what are you doing this Friday?”
Madara couldn’t supress the groan escaping from this throat. Still having this individual in his life was his own fault, really. After all, there were more than enough warning signs. You simply do not start a friendship with Hashirama Senju, when one of the first things he did after meeting you was convincing your teenage ass to piss into a river together.
Sakura chose a simple white dress and ballet flats this time. Nothing eye-catching but still very much her style. She made a point of choosing outfits she felt comfortable in, so she didn’t exude the same self-consciousness she did at the after party two days ago. The fact that wrong wardrobe choices clearly made her maestro angry may have also played a role.
Although Sakura had to admit, having him touch her so intimately while getting her appearance in order was worth the disappointment she initially felt when she realised that he was angry with her. She may be naïve and sexually inexperienced, but even she knew that conductors spanking their musicians was not common practice. Tucking in her blouse so her dishevelled look wouldn’t tarnish the good name of his orchestra was one thing; she even saw him yank on Naruto’s loose tie once before a very important interview, so when he started arranging her clothes there wasn’t anything sexual about it at first.
But the feel of his big hands as they traced the back of her thighs, inching closer to her behind where he would eventually deliver a sound slap on her left cheek was something completely different.
That was two days ago, and Sakura still didn’t know what to think or how to feel about it. When Mr Uchiha returned to the after party a little after her and pretended like nothing happened between them, she took that as her cue to do the same. The only reminder was when Ino and Temari asked her about her sudden outfit change.
I guess now I finally know what Maestro Uchiha is like when he invokes rule number 2.
Her vague answer referring to the second item on his long list of obligations laid out in her contract seemed to have been explanation enough. After all, given their strict dress code, wardrobe changes were demanded often enough so as not to raise any eyebrows when it finally happened to Sakura too.
She learned her lesson, that’s why she was waiting for their next rehearsal to start wearing one of her favourite and most inconspicuous dresses. They were in Shanghai at the moment for their second China concert which would take place in two days’ time.
They’ve nailed all of their rehearsals so far, practiced for hours on end, and were at the top of their game. Their maestro couldn’t be any prouder, at least that’s what Sakura thought, until she saw him enter the stage with a frown so deep, you’d need scuba gear to dive down.
“Change of plans everyone, you’re not getting Friday off, after all. We’re playing in Shanghai two days in a row, and we’re changing the programme for Thursday. We’re ditching Holst and starting with Mozetich, take out your sheet music for Fantasia. Cellists, all eyes on Ms Haruno while she takes the lead. I need the accompaniment tenuto throughout the entire piece, you cannot be drowned out by the violins’ legato. Chop chop, everyone.”
While everyone scrambled to get their things ready, Sakura couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. Maestro Uchiha was always strict and demanding, but he seemed to be in an especially sour mood today. Not to mention that changing the entire programme of an upcoming concert two days before was not something Madara Uchiha did. He was so meticulous and orderly, he’d probably be annoyed if raindrops suddenly started falling at a different angle. Not wanting to incur his wrath again so shortly after earning her first reprimand, she kept her head down and tried her best to meet his expectations during the rehearsal.
A feat which proved to be more difficult than she initially thought. Maestro Uchiha was annoyed by the slightest things, reprimanded his musicians for the tiniest slip-ups, and gripped his baton so tightly at times, his knuckles turned white.
Once their most exhausting rehearsal so far was over, everyone was quick to pack their things and leave, when Maestro Uchiha said, “I need a word with all the principals, the rest are free to go.”
Ino and Naruto quickly caught Sakura’s gaze, both of them shooting her questioning looks. Sakura just shrugged, equally confused. They gathered together with the rest of the principal musicians and stood in front of their maestro’s podium.
“Due to unforeseen and incredibly annoying circumstances, I decided to change the programme for our Thursday concert. As you may have noticed, the seven pieces we’re performing will heavily feature one of the principal musicians. We start off with Mozetich, which focuses on Ms Haruno as the principal cellist. Our next piece by Copland is your chance to shine as principal clarinet, Ms Yamanaka. Arutiunian will put the spotlight on our principal trumpet, and so on. In other words, we’re pulling out the big guns for this one, so I cannot stress this enough: I need all of my principals to bring their A game. I know you do that for every concert anyway, but this… is different. Let’s just say, I need to prove a point, so do not let me down.”
While the other musicians gathered their things to leave, Sakura watched him put on his suit jacket out of the corner of her eye. Before leaving the stage, the conductor shot her a look and quietly said, “Ms Haruno, my room in an hour.” Sakura barely managed the obligatory Yes, Maestro, too caught up in her own thoughts running rampant in her mind about what he might be needing from her at 8 pm in the evening, in his hotel room, in private.
“What crawled up his ass and died?” Ino whispered with an eye roll while packing up her instrument.
Sakura’s jaw dropped in shock and she fixed the blonde with angry glare, “Oh my God, Ino, you can’t talk like that, he’s our conductor!”
“Oh relax, you fan girl. Even you have to admit he was exceptionally prickly today. Like pluck-that-string-wrong-and-I’ll-pluck-out-your-eyebrows type of prickly. And the bar for that is already incredibly high, because Madara Uchiha was basically born prickly.”
Sakura could hear Naruto snicker behind them as the trio went down the stairs on the left of the stage, making Ino groan in annoyance.
“Men and their weird sense of humour. You’re imagining him as a cactus now, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but like, how can he conduct with his tiny cactus arms?”
Madara knew he was being insufferable. He never was particularly liked by his musicians – respected, yes, but liked on a personal level, not really – but during the last two rehearsals he did his utmost to qualify for the Condescending Jerk of the Year Award. Even little Ms Haruno was starting to sweat halfway through his symphony of exasperated grunts and annoyed eye-rolls.
If only he hadn’t picked up that damned phone two days ago, none of this would be happening. He could have stuck to his original concert programme, enjoyed one or two relaxed rehearsals, and wouldn’t be pacing up and down his hotel suite racking his brain over his request.
He may as well have asked Madara to chain her to a rock to be devoured by a sea monster, and Madara would still think Sakura’s fate worse than Andromeda’s.
A soft knock interrupted his train of thought, and he went to open the door for his late-night guest. When his intense gaze landed on his little protégé and her doe-like eyes, he couldn’t help but ask himself – what was his role in all of this? Could he be the Perseus to her Andromeda?
Or would Cretus once again rise from the depths of the sea and plunge her into darkness?
“You asked to see me, Mr Uchiha?”
Madara wordlessly stepped aside and closed the door behind her. He took a moment to run an appreciative gaze over her slender figure and noted with satisfaction that she was once again wearing clothes she was clearly much more comfortable in. His gaze was drawn to her short pleated skirt as it swirled around her legs when she turned to face him. There was a soft, pastel pink cashmere sweater tucked into the waistband that was a size too large for her, as it was currently in the process of slipping off her left shoulder.
Madara had seen and done a lot of erotic things in his 39 years on this earth but watching something as trivial as a piece of garment expose her neck and shoulder had his dick twitch in anticipation like no porn ever could.
Thank fuck he had an actual reason to invite her into his hotel room this late at night or otherwise he would already have her face down, ass up.
“It’s about our concert on Thursday. The reason I had to change it… was you.”
Her eyes widened even more as she immediately started playing with the hem of her skirt. “Me? W-why? Did I do something wrong? I’ll do better, Mr Uchiha, I swear!”
“Relax, you did nothing wrong. You’re perfect,” he stepped closer to sweep her hair behind her ear, “like always. I had to change the programme, because I got a call from someone who is going to watch us perform on Thursday, and I simply needed to make sure that he’s… well, rendered speechless would be the ideal scenario, really.”
“I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
“Because that particular individual happens to be a renowned music journalist and critic, and he will be writing a lengthy review of our first Shanghai concert, including an extensive interview with you.”
Madara’s gaze landed on her full lips as they moved to form a surprised little o,and to make things worse, his little protégé had the gall to go ahead and lick them.
“I’ve never given an interview, Mr Uchiha. A-and to be honest, I’m not sure if I’m up for it. I don’t need all that attention and all the probing questions. What if I say something stupid? I don’t want to embarrass you.”
Madara had to supress a smirk at her words. The interview was supposed to be all about her, and yet she was afraid of embarrassing him. It was like this little girl was born with the sole purpose of pleasing him.
“I assure you there is nothing you could do to embarrass me.”
“Not true, what about the last after party, when I wore something you didn’t approve of?”
“You’re right, but I made you regret that choice instantly, did I not?” A blush crept up her cheeks as Madara took a step closer, “I disciplined you,” he raised his hand to her face while enjoying the nervous breath escaping her lips, “you took your punishment,” he grabbed the back of her neck and twisted his fingers in her hair, “and you promised to never do it again,” Madara tugged on her hair, forcing her head back and staring down at her, their lips only centimetres apart, “like the good little girl you are.”
He allowed himself one more moment to drink in the sight of her innocent blush and her adoring wide eyes, before he let go off her hair and leaned on the desk on the opposite of his bed.
“The individual you will have the displeasure of meeting has, well… to say he holds a grudge against me would be the understatement of the century. He will do anything in his power to try to get under my skin, and the fact that I noticed you did not go unnoticed by him, so I’m sure he’s hoping to use that to his advantage.”
“So you’re saying the only reason he wants to interview me is to spite you and not because he’s really interested in me as a musician?”
“No, sweetheart,” Madara put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them as a show of encouragement, “one would have to be blind and deaf not to notice your musical gift. As much as I hate his guts, he does have an eye for talent, I have to give him that. If I weren’t your maestro, he’d still want to interview you, it’s just this way he gets to kill two birds with one stone.”
Madara watched his little protégé pull her bottom lip between her teeth, and his dick immediately sprung to attention. Brushing his fingers over her shoulders clearly did little to calm her down. If he didn’t already think she was nervous about the interview, she gave it away the instant she started playing with the end of his tie.
“I’m too shy to give such a high-profile interview, I really wouldn’t know what to say. And I really don’t want to embarrass you, Mr Uchiha, so um… Can you… can you, maybe, I don’t know,” Madara watched with utter fascination as she twisted the end of his tie around her index finger, “can you teach me?”
The question came out as a shy whisper, but their faces were close enough for him to hear it.
“Teach you what, little girl? You’ll have to be more specific, because I can teach you a lot of things.”
Madara watched her suck in a breath at his little innuendo. He knew he was pushing his luck, everything about their proximity and the way he was talking to her was wrong and if she weren’t such a lovesick puppy, she would have reported his inappropriate behaviour ages ago. But he couldn’t help himself around her. For the first time in the nearly four decades he had spent on earth so far, he was falling victim to the danger and allure of the forbidden.
His hazy mind barely registered when his protégé opened her mouth. “Well, um… You know, things like…”
A shaky breath. A tongue sweeping out to wet her lips.
“What-… what to say and what not to say, or… or things like…” hesitant eyes travelled up to meet his own.
“Body language.”
Fuck.
Madara had a thing or two to say about body language, alright, their own body language at this very moment, to be precise. Sakura was still standing between his legs, nervously playing with his tie, much like she did a few days ago when he was fixing her outfit. It was moments like these when a part of him questioned whether or not she really didn’t know what effect she had on men like him with a behaviour like that. Her innocence was believable and authentic enough to land her a part in Sesame Street, but then she had to go ahead and whisper body language like that – what was a man to think?
“Body language, huh? Alright, let’s start with the most important lesson on body language. For an interview, you want to seem approachable, but not too much. You can use your body to create a necessary distance, to signal the other person certain parts of you are off-limits. One way to do that is to make sure you don’t show too much skin, an unwilling openness a reporter is only too eager to exploit.”
Madara’s right hand left her shoulder and made its way down her arm to grab the low hanging neckline of her sweater, slowly dragging it up while making sure to brush as much of her soft skin with his fingers.
“Wearing a sweater that constantly slips off your shoulder is not the way to do it, little one. What did we say about dishevelled outfits?” Madara fixed her with a stern gaze.
“Not to wear them, and I know I’m going to wear something more professional for the interview, but I didn’t think that you would mind me wearing the sweater now. I thought you would like it,” Madara heard her voice become quieter and more unsure toward the end, much like it always did when she was asking for his opinion.
The only logical thing for him to do as her maestro was take away that uncertainty, the only way he knew how.
“Oh, I’m afraid I like it too much, princess. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your effort to dress comfortably and appropriately the last few days. I’m very happy my lesson stuck.”
Madara took her chin between his fingers and raised her face. “Good girl.”
When he saw the telltale smile and blush spread across her face, Madara knew it was worth playing with fire.
Now to pour some gasoline on it.
“Say thank you, Sir,” he commanded in his gruffest dom voice.
Naturally, his little sub immediately obliged.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Her whispering was going to be the death of him. Madara released his protégé and went straight for the bar at the other end of the room in order to gain some distance. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact he was sporting a raging hard-on for a 20-year-old she was not supposed to see.
“Of course, Deidara will be in charge of most of the media mumbo-jumbo, he’ll also get a say in your outfit, but if it were up to me, I’d button you up to your nose, maybe even send you to the interview in a straitjacket.”
Madara drowned the shot of whiskey as if it had the magical ability to calm his libido, which of course it didn’t, especially when he heard Sakura’s melodious laughter behind him.
“But Sir, you can’t put me in a straitjacket. You said yourself, this reporter is a renowned music journalist, and you only want to present yourself and the orchestra in the best possible light. I admit, a baggy sweater would not have been my go-to look, but a straitjacket doesn’t really scream take me seriouslyeither.”
“I don’t know, I quite like the idea of a straitjacket. At the very least, we can put him in it, so he won’t be tempted to touch you.”
Madara had meant it as a light-hearted joke, but he immediately regretted his choice of words when he saw her playful smile crumble.
“Why-why do you say that? Is he known to… touch women? You wouldn’t put me in the same room as someone like that, would you, Sir?”
He bridged the distance between them in three quick steps and immediately grasped her face between his hands to rub soothing circles on her cheeks. Madara hated the whole idea of the interview, but that was no reason to rile her up. Kicking a puppy probably couldn’t feel worse than being the one who put worries and doubts in her head.
“Never, little one. I would wring anybody’s neck who so much as looked at you wrong, I would never put you in any danger, trust me. I’m sorry for my poor choice of words, I absolutely didn’t mean them in that way. As much as I hate… that person, he is nothing but an absolute gentleman, and I can assure you he has tremendous respect for you. You’re going to be wonderful at the interview, I know it. You could just sit there doing nothing and he would sing your praises.”
“I believe you. But then what did you mean with that part about him touching me?”
Madara contemplated a few short seconds what to answer to that question. Of course, the simple truth was he was just being a dumb, territorial gorilla, but he would rather do shots out of Naruto’s belly button than allow Sakura to think of him in a simian fashion.
“Let’s just say, I know him from my childhood, and he always revelled in stealing my toys. And I told you when I signed you on, I tend to be rather possessive of my musicians.”
That seemed to have been the right answer, judging by the grin tugging on her pretty little lips. Before Madara could say anything that would dig himself deeper into the hole he called sexual frustration, he grasped Sakura’s arm and gently turned her toward the door.
“I’m sure I’ve given you a lot to think about. Take the rest of the evening to think things through about the interview, maybe think of questions that are off-limits, so we can make sure there won’t be any unpleasantness. Tomorrow, we’ll get together with Deidara and his PR team, he’ll straighten out the rest.”
As he was about to open the door to usher her outside, she turned around one last time, her skirt enticingly flowing around her slender legs. “What about the tips you were going to give me? You know… the training?”
“Miss Haruno, if I were to teach you everything I know, you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.”
“You’ll want to avoid words like never and always, or any kind of absolute statement for that matter. You a Star Wars fan? Never mind, there’s this character who wisely said that only a Sith deals in absolutes. Siths are the bad guys in Star Wars, FYI. So instead of saying ‘Maestro Uchiha is always rude to us during rehearsals’, you want to say things like ‘We are eternally grateful for his constructive feedback and his willingness to help us improve our craft’, see the difference? Another thing they like to do is talk about your fears, vulnerabilities, weaknesses, yadda yadda yadda. The best way to answer these questions is like you would answer them during a job interview. So don’t bullshit around with some made-up weakness, that is actually a strength like ‘I am very focused on details and therefore sometimes need longer for an assignment’. Journalists can smell bullshit a mile away, and this particular one is like a genetically enhanced bloodhound. What you want to do instead is be honest, but not too honest. You’re not going to come out and say you have a crippling porn addiction. Choose something that seems like a genuine weakness, but nothing too major that would inhibit your performance. And most importantly, follow it up with a statement underlining how you’re already working on bettering yourself. A good example would be ‘Sometimes I am too direct with my feedback and criticism and my colleagues may take it the wrong way, but I’ve already learned to word it in more neutral terms, so nobody gets offended’. Are you writing any of this down?”
Sakura could feel herself shrinking under Deidara’s disapproving gaze. Quickly grabbing the pen she brought along to her tutoring session, she continued writing down the tips he was giving her in preparation for her interview.
“Next, questions about your private life. We are not politicians, so don’t even pretend to be one with those ‘I can neither confirm nor deny it’ answers. You should give him some sort of answer, otherwise you’ll seem unapproachable, but you can control how many details you want to give…”
Sakura droned out the publicist’s voice while staring absentmindedly at the presentation slides. In her mind, she knew what the words really meant, but in her subconscious, they re-arranged themselves to form an entirely different sentence.
If I were to teach you everything I know, you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
That could mean anything, right? It could take him all night to teach her all about whiskey for instance, or the difference between a two-stroke engine and a cylinder. If they were to talk about music, that may have taken them several nights in fact, not just one, because he was a bottomless well of knowledge when it came to that.
But it couldn’t mean…that.
Sakura was chewing on the other end of her pencil while still pretending to be enthralled by whatever Deidara was saying. The fact of the matter was, Sakura was his protégé. Their professional relationship was bound to take a different turn compared to the way he handles all his other musicians. Mister Uchiha said so himself, it was his duty to train her, to mould her to be the best possible version of herself. He couldn’t do that if he wasn’t allowed to give her a little bit of extra attention every now and then. And she never had an official mentor in that capacity before, Tsunade certainly never called Sakura her protégé. What’s more, she was embarrassingly inexperienced when it came to physical intimacy with the opposite sex. The line between appropriate touches and those that bordered on intimate seem to be drawn differently for every person, at least if her friends’ stories were to be believed, and it couldn’t be more confusing to her to try to understand when that line has been crossed if you explained it to her in Latin.
Sakura shook her head and tried to re-focus her attention on Deidara’s media training, but it was to no avail. In her mind, she kept replaying last night’s visit to her maestro’s hotel room and how he comforted her by stroking her cheek, or how he teased her by slowly dragging up her sweater up her shoulder.
Sakura had no idea what they meant, but she knew one thing: Lying was a cardinal sin, and she would end up in the deepest pits of hell if she were to ever tell anyone she didn’t enjoy Mister Uchiha’s touches.
It was time to cash in on her friendship with the promiscuous principal clarinet.
“I’m confused, why are you asking me all these questions? Sakura, did someone touch you inappropriately? If so, that’s a major offense and we need to report it ASAP.”
Sakura felt her panic rise as Ino stared her down with a worried look in her eyes. This was not the direction she planned this conversation to take. She knew she was a klutz when it came to talking about physical intimacy, but this was awkward even by her standards.
“No, no, nothing like that. I’m fine. It’s just, that… I saw two people from the stage crew, they looked cosy with each other, and I was just wondering, you know, if that means they… like each other, or anything…”
The blonde musician breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew, for a moment there I thought I was going to have to pull out a doll and ask you where you’ve been touched. But seriously, jokes aside, if anybody makes you feel uncomfortable, in any way, it doesn’t even have to be physical, you let me know, or any of your other friends. Or better yet, tell Mr Uchiha.”
Threats of wringing people’s necks suddenly popped into Sakura’s head. Telling Mr Uchiha anybody made her feel uncomfortable, even in the slightest, was a battery charge waiting to happen.
“Thanks for the tip. But seriously, what does it mean if a man puts his hands on a woman’s shoulders? It seemed…comforting. But I basically have zero experience with that kind of stuff. Naruto is always teasing me that guys could have I’m sexually attracted to you tattooed on their forehead and I wouldn’t get that they’re flirting with me.”
“It could mean anything. Couples touch each other on their shoulders, much like friends do. Even colleagues, who have no relationship outside of work, might comfort each other like that if someone has a rough day. It depends on the person who’s doing the touching. With Naruto, for instance, it doesn’t mean much, because he’s insanely physically affectionate. He hugged you the day he met you, and he regularly shows his affection with small physical gestures. Doesn’t mean he’s attracted to you. Shikamaru for instance was different. He was your predecessor. He was always too lazy to make new friends or even show his appreciation for the ones he already had, so in the rare instances he would hug or comfort someone, it really meant a lot. Does that help?”
Nope.
Sakura had no idea what the normal scope of Mr Uchiha’s physical affection was. Sure, he was always meticulously professional during rehearsals and public appearances, but it wasn’t like Sakura had the means to ask his friends how he behaved in private. And she couldn’t very well ask Ino what it meant if a conductor touches his protégé’s cheek or pulls up her sweater.
It could really just be harmless comforting of an inexperienced and nervous musician. Sakura was, after all, his protégé, she was already treated as the orchestra’s most recognisable poster child, she was about to give her first major interview. Mr Uchiha was just covering all of his bases and making sure she was representing him to the best of her abilities.
Yeah, that had to be it. The more Sakura thought about it, the sillier she felt for even entertaining the thought there could be more behind her maestro’s touches than the simple comfort and guidance a mentor feels obligated to give his students when he sees them struggling. Mr Uchiha was, after all, so very much out of her league and she would have to mature at the speed of light to catch up with the women he was probably interested in.
Sakura couldn’t supress the laugh that escaped her lips at the thought as she put her arm around her friend. “You’re right, Ino. I’m hugging you now, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to start developing romantic feelings for you.”
The blonde just shot her a seductive grin. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”
Of course, they were always brilliant. It was his orchestra, after all. But Madara had to hand it to his musicians: Tonight, they were magnificent.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything akin to nervousness before a concert, but tonight’s special guest set his teeth on edge. Everything had to be absolutely perfect, or he would have never heard the end of it in his next article.
Strutting proudly around the backstage area and congratulating his ensemble for a performance well done, he was headed straight towards his dressing room, where the highly unwelcome intruder was waiting for him. Only when he opened the door, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Madara, there you are.” Hearing his supposedly best friend’s voice was always a sensation similar to nails scraping on a chalk board. Madara never missed a chance to remind him of that fact, too.
“Hashirama, you know I hate it when you yell like-“
“I know, I know, don’t get your conductor’s panties in a bunch. Pretty sure the interview’s already started, so I’m sure you’re free now. Let’s go grab a drink to toast tonight’s concert, you guys really were amazing. Come on.”
Madara’s arm reached out to grab the man’s shoulders, digging his fingers uncomfortably into his skin. “What do you mean, the interview’s already started? He said he made an appointment for tomorrow.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw him enter her dressing room just a moment ago. You know how he is, he likes to catch his prey off guard. But don’t worry, I’m sure your PR team briefed her and everything, she’ll do fine. And if not, it’ll be a baptism by fire. Better learn from the tough ones, he’ll raise the bar so high, she’ll never complain about another interview partner again.”
Madara was sure if he could grind his teeth any harder, they would splinter into a million tiny pieces. The thought of Sakura alone with him, completely caught off guard, goaded into talking about things she wasn’t prepared for made his hair stand on end.
He quickly navigated the maze of dressing rooms until he found the door with her name on it. Madara could already hear their voices seeping through, and to his surprise he even heard Sakura’s telltale giggle.
Not bothering to knock, he swung the door open and found his protégé with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other trying to hide the grin on her face, which was clearly reserved for the man in front of her.
When Sakura saw him enter, her playful expression changed into a surprised one when she happily exclaimed, “Mr Uchiha, look, I got flowers! I don’t mind giving interviews if they all start off with such a nice gesture.”
She shot her interview partner a grateful look, which only made Madara’s insides boil.
“Trust me, Miss Haruno, flowers are a special gesture reserved for buttering up only my most interesting interview partners.”
Great, he flirts now, too.
Just as he was rolling his eyes in annoyance, the man in question turned to finally face him with a knowing smirk on his face.
“Long time no see, Madara.”
Madara puffed up his chest and let out a disapproving grunt as he eyed his worst nemesis.
‘I need to be more mindful of my bad habits. It doesn’t just affect me.’
“Done already?” A deep voice from behind startles the pinkette. Whirling around, her gaze lands on the man across the room, casually leaning against the wall. Piercing dark eyes stare back, causing her heart to flutter. There’s a hint of amusement in those depths, but something else lurks just below the surface.
“Ah… You scared me.” She places a hand on her chest, chuckling softly.
‘Dammit. Even after all this time, he’s still able to sneak up on me without making a sound. And there are very few that can hide their chakra so well.’
“Hn.” Pushing off the wall, Madara saunters closer until he’s barely an inch away, hovering above her. Without looking up, she can feel his eyes boring into her and knows what’s coming just by the sound he made. A ‘hn’ from him can have a multitude of meanings, from joy to agitation. This time, it seems to be a bit of the latter…
“So, where did my wife run off to today?” Sakura purses her lips at the question, a twinge of guilt blossoming in the center of her being. There’s no doubt that he already knows well where she’d been. Honestly, it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out he even tailed her at some point, silently lurking in the shadows while keeping a watchful eye.
“Me?Run off? Why would I do something like that?” Sticking out her bottom lip, she glances up at Madara, trying to pull off her best puppy dog face. If anything, this will soften him up a bit… or a lot.
“Tch.” His brows furrow at the display, but the way his lips form a firm line gives away some of the conflicting emotions going on behind that hardened exterior. She knows he’s somewhere between chastising and kissing her. It’s a cheap move that she’s not above using. “Don’t give me that look.”
I’m so happy to finally update!!! I always feel guilty when I’m away for a while, but sometimes it can’t be helped. I have quite a few asks in my inbox wondering how everything’s going, so I’d rather go into more detail there. I’ll try to answer all my messages after getting some much-needed sleep lol.
On another note… I can’t believe in just a few months, it’ll be 7 years since I started this fic! That’s just so mind-blowing to me. I can’t thank everyone enough for all the support you’ve given me since the beginning. This is the very first story I ever wrote, so I didn’t want to abandon it. Recently, I’ve been on a MadaSaku kick (damn beautiful fanart everywhere that I absolutely adore) and thought this would be the perfect time to get back into it.
I really hope you guys enjoy the update! It can be quite difficult for me to get back into writing after taking long breaks. I’ll be working on a little Christmas AU one-shot of this story and ‘Knives and Cherry Blossoms’, which I’m super excited about! I’ve been debating if the latter should be a MadaSaku, JokeSaku, or clash between the two, so I’d love to hear what you guys think. There are still a lot of details to sort out, but we’ll get there.
here are the progress of this week. Since many people ask about the part2…here are the newly draw pages this week. YES it will be a serialize story. a light -hearted one I guess? after this wedge manga, I plan to show their mundane life with some serial short storys.
Warning - This fic will contain the following: blood, violence, gun violence, torture, manipulation, coercion, gore and graphic depictions of murder. If any of these are triggering or make you uncomfortable, please do not proceed. You have been warned.
Chapter One Prompt: Abducted
Of all the ways Sakura thought her Wednesday night would end, it was not like this. After getting out of a ten-hour trauma surgery, she had planned on pouring a large glass of wine, curling up on her sofa with a good book and falling asleep before finishing the first chapter. Not by being thrown into the back of an unknown town car by a bunch of rough-looking men.
They had grabbed her out of her own staff parking lot at the hospital, squishing her between them to keep her from trying to escape out the doors. She didn’t know who they were, but the handguns on their hips had kept her from asking from too many questions. They looked mean and ready to prove their strength at any given second.
The only thing that seemed to be keeping them back was the well-dressed and otherwise handsome man that sat across from them. He wore an expensive wristwatch and a tailored suit that wrapped around his lithe, and undoubtedly, strong body. He had dark eyes and a mane of dark hair that made his pale complexion even paler but no less stunning. Sakura had seen plenty of kidnapping stories on the news during her breaks on shift, but she was pretty sure kidnappers weren’t supposed to be this attractive. For some reason, that set her further on edge.
He had only glanced at her twice after her abduction, but he held himself with an air of confidence that made it clear that his word was the one that mattered.
Like a cornered animal, Sakura curled up in the center seat with her purse clutched to her chest. She tried to make herself as small as possible, as if they might forget she was there all together. No one had said a word to her since entering the car, except for the man on her right who had warned her only once to keep quiet. She was too frightened to disobey.
Her mind raced through the reasons of why she might be there. She had no family, no money. She was no one. Well, almost no one. She was the city hospital’s newest trauma surgeon. But she had no money for a ransom. She made a decent pay check, but the majority went to her medical school bills and insurance payments. She was comfortable, but not as well off as the man in front of her seemed to be.
The inside of the vehicle was silent as they drove, the roll of rubber against the road filling the quiet until they eventually arrived at the International District. The car slowed as they approached what appeared to be an abandoned fish market.
As soon as the car pulled to a stop, the driver hopped out and opened the back door. The man in charge exited first before the guards slipped out. When she made no move to follow, one reached back in and grabbed her wrist. Her survival instincts kicked in.
“No! Let me go!”
For a minute, she struggled with the man until he hauled her from the inside of the vehicle and slammed her back hard enough against the side of the car to nearly knock the breath from her lungs.
The man in charge stepped forward then, making a vague gesture to his man to release her. Still holding her purse to her chest, Sakura peered up at him, not sure if he was going to rape her or cut straight to just killing her. After all, she had seen most of it already in her new position at the hospital.
“Dr. Haruno,” he spoke, his voice calm in comparison to her frantically beating heart. “We require your presence. The more you cooperate, the easier this will be.”
Sakura gripped her purse tighter, as if that would protect her from what may happen next. “I don’t understand. What do you want with me?”
“Our intentions will be made clear soon. Please, come.”
It was clearly an order, but she still hesitated as her escort turned and made his way inside. At least until a guard grabbed the front of her jacket near her collar and yanked her off the car. Sakura’s struggles renewed, but she wasn’t given the opportunity to escape as her captors grabbed her by the arms and forcefully made her follow.
They dragged her through the empty fish market, the sour smell of old seafood flooding her nose and mouth, and into a large backroom that was perhaps bigger than the market itself. Like going through the wardrobe into Narnia, the guards forcefully pushed her into a well-furnished room with lush carpets and hardwood floors. There were expensive paintings on the wall and handcrafted wooden feet on the couches and armchairs.
Around a large, varnished table were a handful of men looking over something she couldn’t see. Everyone was seated, some with a glass of fine whiskey in their hands or cigars hanging from their mouths. The smell made her nose scrunch up.
On the far side of the room, a man was bent over the side of the couch. Whatever he was looking at she couldn’t see, but her attention turned as her escort approached another man.
The pair looked alike with their dark hair and even darker eyes. Even their high cheekbones and strong jawlines were similar. Perhaps an older cousin or brother. He was dressed just as finely, but there was an air of absolute authority and command about him that made even her escort look small. It seemed she had been wrong. Whoever he was, he was definitely in charge.
Without looking up from his phone, this new boss listened vaguely as her escort spoke in a murmured voice. Their conversation was indecipherable amongst the quiet chatter throughout the rest of the room, but her escort must have said something important for the man in charge glanced at him before turning his sights on her.
Sakura felt as if a set of crosshairs had just fixed upon her. A chill went down her spine, but she wasn’t given the chance to run before the guards shoved her forward until she was half-standing, half-cowering before this new boss.
“Dr. Haruno Sakura, I presume,” he said. His voice was smooth and easy as if he were discussing the full moon that were out tonight.
It made Sakura bristle and she glared up at him with more bravery than she actually felt. “Who the hell are you? And how dare you kidnap me on my very own hospital property.”
The man before her was hardly fazed by her tone. He simply inclined his head minutely. “I apologize. Where are my manners? My name is Madara. And this is my brother, Izuna,” he told her.
Her escort bowed his head slightly as if his politeness now would excuse his abrupt abduction of her only twenty minutes ago.
A scowl crossed her face. “What the hell do you want?”
“Simple really,” Madara said, turning away to approach a nearby dry sink bar. On one side was a crystal glass of whiskey that he unstoppered before he filled a pristine glass. Only once he had resealed the expensive liquor did he turn back to her. “I require your skill.”
Sakura blinked in bewilderment. “My skill?” she parroted.
“Your surgical ability,” he clarified.
“What about it?”
“It seems we had a small altercation this evening,” Madara told her before taking a sip. “The Senju are becoming quite an issue for us.”
Sakura said nothing, but her expression must have expressed her continued confusion. It was like he was speaking another language.
Madara simply gestured to her. “Come.”
Knowing she would be forced to follow either way, Sakura trailed some paces behind him, her eyes darting from his back to Izuna before returning to Madara again. He stopped in front of the couch, one hand in his pocket, the other lifting his drink to his lips before he gestured towards the couch with his whiskey.
“It seems my nephews, Itachi and Shisui, may have crossed paths with a less than amiable Senju tonight. Such aggressive, violent people. Shisui needs urgent medical attention.”
Now that she was standing before them, Sakura understood what was wrong. One man, apparently Shisui, was laying on the couch with blood gushing from a wound in his shoulder. It was hard to see the extent of the damage from where she stood, especially with Itachi pressing a bloodied towel to the area, but it was obvious the injury needed to be seen to immediately.
Then something crossed Sakura’s mind. Senju – she knew that name. She had heard it on the news and read about them in the newspaper whenever a violent crime had been committed within the city. There were only ever rumors, but Sakura had worked trauma in the city long enough to know there was an Underground that dealt in weapons, drugs and women.
If the Senju were Madara’s enemy, that would mean him and these men were of the Uchiha family. In other words, mafia. And Shisui was likely suffering from a bullet wound.
Her fingers itched to help him. Every nerve in her body was yelling at her to go assess the damage and fix it, but she was also aware the instant she touched him, she would be bound to these men. There would be no escape.
“I won’t do this,” Sakura said, her eyes still glued to the man bleeding on the couch. “I won’t get involved.”
Like someone had abruptly raised the needle on a record player, the room went utterly silent. Even the men around the polished table stopped what they were doing. The sudden stillness pressed down on her like a physical weight, forcing her heart into the pit of her stomach. She swallowed thickly as her eyes darted around the room. The hair on the back of her neck prickled when she found everyone was watching her, cigars and whiskey halfway to their mouths as they paused to see how this would play out.
Itachi, who was still bent over Shisui and applying pressure to his gunshot wound, was openly glaring at her. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to hold her at gunpoint until she agreed to help. Which she realized was likely not far from the truth.
It was Madara who broke the silence. “I understand your reluctance,” he said, causing her gaze to flicker back to him abruptly.
Both his tone and expression were calm, almost friendly, but she got the distinct impression it was all a front. After all, this man was the head of one of the most dangerous mobs in the country. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He stepped towards her, his black, perfectly polished, cap toe shoes clacking sharply against the hardwood floor. Each step was like a clock slowly ticking away the seconds left of her life, until Madara stood before her like Death himself.
Sakura shrunk under his towering form and gripped her purse tighter to her chest. He stood at least a head taller, forcing her to crane her neck back to meet his dark, obsidian gaze. He was a handsome man, at least a decade or more older than her, but the mild lines around his mouth and eyes only made her realize that as much violence as she had seen in her career, he had seen more. He had likely caused it too.
“I will only ask once,” Madara said calmly. “And you do not wish to know the consequences should you refuse.”
Sakura inhaled a silent but shaky breath as her gaze briefly returned to the bleeding man on the couch. His face was pinched in obvious pain, his complexion pale as he breathed through clenched teeth. Itachi was holding pressure to the wound, but his gaze was focused on her, his eyes sharp like he was just waiting for the order to kill her should she say no. Behind Madara, Izuna stood only a few feet away, a similar expression on his face.
She only had one choice.
Flickering her gaze back to Madara, she asked, her voice coming out with a small waver, “And what happens to me after I do as you ask?”
“That depends on the condition in which Shisui is in when you are finished.”
She didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. The only way she got out of this alive was if Shisui survived.
After a hesitation that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, Sakura gave Madara a weak nod. "I’ll need some tools.”
Madara casually turned to Itachi then as if he hadn’t just threatened her very life. “Get Dr. Haruno what she needs. You will assist her as she sees fit.”
To her surprise, the glare was gone from Itachi’s face when she turned back to him. In fact, there was no emotion in his expression at all. She didn’t know which she preferred, but she wasn’t given the opportunity to decide before Madara turned and made his way towards a door in the back of the room, his expensive shoes clacking against the hardwood. He threw her one parting message over his shoulder.
“You better get started.”
xx
As quickly as the madness had begun, it ended. Sakura did what Madara had asked. She had dug the bullet out of Shisui’s arm and stitched him back together before starting him on a course of antibiotics. Then Madara’s men, this time with the absence of Izuna, had dropped her off on her apartment building’s doorstep as if nothing had ever happened.
That had been over a month ago.
Since then, Sakura had done her best to move on as if the incident had never happened. She went to work as usual before heading home, most of the time catching a ride with her best friend and fellow surgeon, Naruto. She doubted his presence would keep the mafia at bay, but she felt safer than when she was by herself. Still, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting to find a shadow everywhere she turned.
Tonight was an exception. Naruto had left for home some hours ago while Sakura stayed behind to review a case. She had a high-profile surgery tomorrow and the latest labs for her patient weren’t what she was hoping.
After ordering more tests and pushing more drugs, she finally got the results she wanted. Just in time for her to go home and catch a few hours of sleep before returning to the hospital in the morning.
Yawning, Sakura shrugged on her peacoat. She grabbed her purse from her locker before she closed it and left the quiet attendings’ lounge. There were a few messages waiting for her when she finally checked her device for the first time in hours, including one from Naruto asking if she was home yet.
Smiling faintly, Sakura shot him off a quick reply that she was on her way now. The rest of the messages could wait until later. She slipped her phone into her pocket before she searched for her car keys.
Only to halt abruptly halfway to her vehicle when she realized there was a shadow leaning against the back door. In the lighting of the parking lot, all she could see was a young man dressed in a nice suit with a flashy watch and curly hair.
Shisui.
Sakura didn’t wait to see if he noticed her. She turned sharply, about to escape back into the hospital, when she ran into a wall. No, not a wall. A firm chest.
“Going somewhere?” Itachi asked.
Sakura opened her mouth, but before she could cry for help, he clamped a strong hand over her lips and leaned down to whisper, “Scream and you will regret it.”
She got the vague impression he wanted nothing more than for her to give him an excuse, but she bit down on her tongue sharply even as she shrunk under his towering presence. He didn’t give her the chance to try anything else before a town car skidded to a stop beside them.
Itachi opened the door and shoved her inside without regard for her comfort. She nearly landed on her face, only just catching herself with her hands. Automatically, she scrambled for the door on the other side, but before she could reach it, Shisui opened it and slipped inside. She was effectively trapped.
Backpedaling, Sakura crawled into the corner of the back-facing bench. Neither Itachi nor Shisui paid her any mind as they settled in. As soon as their doors were closed, the car began to move.
Sakura didn’t bother asking questions. She suspected they were heading towards where they had taken her before. Once again, she pushed herself into the corner of the seat, hoping to make herself as small as possible.
Itachi didn’t even glance at her as he scrolled through his phone, his expression akin to boredom as if she was his annoying little sister his parents had made him pick up from school. Shisui, on the other hand, wouldn’t take his eyes off her.
His arms were crossed loosely over his chest as he chewed on a piece of gum slowly. She eyed him at first as she wondered how well his wound had healed. Then she noticed his expression. It was friendly enough, but she didn’t think she liked the way the corner of his mouth was curved into a hint of a smirk or how his gaze was just a little too unwavering. He didn’t even seem to blink.
Unconsciously, Sakura flinched and turned her sights out the window. The city passed by rapidly as the car flew down the highway. They took an exit into the downtown and drove through a number of winding streets until even Sakura didn’t know where they were. Eventually they pulled into a garage and parked the car.
Itachi and Shisui both exited. When Sakura didn’t immediately follow, she heard Itachi’s voice from outside, “You have three seconds to get out on your own or I will assist you.”
She didn’t wait for him to start counting. She hurried out of the car with her purse in hand. Itachi shot her a look as if to say ‘there, wasn’t that better?’ before he turned and continued further into the garage. A silent command for her to follow.
Swallowing, Sakura didn’t dare refuse him. She had felt the hard metal of his gun when she had body slammed into him in the hospital lot and she doubted he kept it on him just for show.
Now that she had a chance to look around, she realized they weren’t in a normal parking garage. It was a loading dock. Like the kind transport trucks and vans used to deliver shipments for the offices in the building. In the middle of the bay was a large area where trucks backed in to unload their shipments onto a higher platform before they were taken into the freight elevators.
Only there weren’t any vehicles now. Just two other town cars off to the side like the one she had been kidnapped in. Again.
In one of the parking stalls was a man bound to a chair. Another man stood over him, his knuckles bloody and torn from delivering blow after audible blow. Each smack made Sakura wince. She hoped with every fiber of her being that she wasn’t next.
A second man stood beside him, his hands less damaged, but blood speckled the front of his white shirt. She didn’t recognize either man, but a few paces behind them was Izuna.
He was watching the event take place before him with a passive expression, but it shifted slightly when he glanced up at the sound of their footsteps. He eyed Sakura silently before his gaze briefly flickered up to the unloading platform above them.
Sakura followed it to find Madara standing at the railing as he supervised. He looked like an emperor overseeing his subjects in his black, iron-pressed pants. He wore a matching black vest over a white button-up shirt. The suit of his jacket hung over his shoulders, his hands in his pockets.
The first time they had met, Madara’s arms had been covered. Now, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. His forearms were littered with tattoos. So much so that she couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. There was more ink than skin.
He was listening to one of his men speak a few paces behind him, but his dark, dark eyes tracked their movements as Sakura ascended the stairs with Itachi and Shisui at her heels. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, hoping no one would see how badly she was shaking. She had hoped after their last meeting, she would be left alone if she did her job well. She didn’t know what Madara wanted from her now.
As soon as they reached the top step, Madara dismissed his man. Sakura tried to swallow back her fear, but she knew even with his back turned Madara could sense it. He was like a shark who could smell blood in the water.
“Good evening, Dr. Haruno. I hope you had a pleasant trip,” Madara greeted.
There was a vague hint of friendliness in his tone as if he actually cared how her car ride was. It made her anger briefly overpower her terror.
“If you call being manhandled into the back of a car pleasant, then sure,” she retorted coolly.
For a moment, Sakura wondered if she had pushed him too far already with her sharp reply when Madara turned around. He seemed to scrutinize her before his eyes landed on the pair behind her.
“Gentleman, I thought I made it clear you were to treat the Doctor with respect,” he said. His tone was calm enough but there was a hint of ice that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. And she wasn’t even on the receiving end.
Itachi’s glare burned a hole into her back, but she refused to look behind her.
“She was treated fairly enough, given her uncooperative behavior,” Itachi said indifferently.
Madara eyed them a moment before his gaze returned to her, his expression once more an apathetic mask. “My apologies, but we do in fact need your assistance once more this evening. There was a small incident an hour ago that we do not need to go into the details of. All you need to know is one of our men sustained a severe injury. He was stabbed in the abdomen with a blade.”
At the end of his assessment, Madara’s gaze turned towards the far side of the wall. Sakura followed it to find a group of men huddled together she hadn’t noticed until now. They were standing around a makeshift bed that consisted of an old table covered with moving pads. The top blanket was dark blue, but the side of it was stained almost black with what she could only guess was blood.
The doctor in her zoned in on the injury, trying to assess the damage from where she stood. From her distance, it was impossible to tell what condition the man was in. The only thing she was certain of was that he was much worse off than Shisui had been. This man was likely in critical condition. She would need more than just a couple of tools.
As if it had just occurred to her where she was, Sakura peered about the loading dock. It was dirty. And not just because the scent of blood lingered in the air. There were pools of stagnant water in the corners of the room, left over from the rainstorm the night before. Cockroaches scurried from one crate to another and everything seemed to be coated in a fine layer of dust. At least when she had stitched up Shisui, they had been in a cleaner environment.
Sakura shook her head in exasperation. “I work in a hospital with unlimited resources and equipment, and a team of trained staff. What exactly do you expect me to do here?”
When she turned back to Madara she found he was watching her with an utterly blank expression. He didn’t look angry, but she got the impression she would have to watch her tongue and how she addressed him in front of his subordinates more carefully moving forward. Lest she preferred being the city’s best dead trauma surgeon.
“I expect you to do your very best to save him,” Madara told her like a parent chiding their child.
Even though she wanted nothing more than to shrink away from his towering form, she couldn’t stop herself from frowning in frustration. “You said you would leave me alone after helping Shisui.”
“I said you would be released. Not that you wouldn’t be called upon in the future as our needs arise.”
Scraping together all the bravery she could muster, she shook her head. “I won’t do this again.”
Madara’s expression didn’t exactly change, but a shadow seemed to flicker behind his eyes like when a bird or airplane briefly flew in front of the sun. He said nothing, but a faint click from Itachi had her glancing over her shoulder.
He had drawn his gun. It wasn’t pointed at her, but the threat was clear. Far clearer than it had ever been before.
She clung to the last bit of her quickly dissolving courage as she returned her gaze to Madara. “If you kill me, he will die.”
Well eventually at least. If they hurried and got him to the hospital, he might still survive, but his chances were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing second. They were wasting time. And Madara knew it.
“The same offer I provided to you with Shisui applies now,” he told her.
Meaning the only way she survived was if the man did too.
“And after that, you’ll leave me alone?” she asked, trying her best to keep her voice from wavering.
Perhaps she was pressing her luck, but if she didn’t stand her ground, these men would walk all over her. Some silent thought passed behind Madara’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. Then he gave her his ultimatum.
“If he survives, we can discuss it further.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was all Madara was willing to give her at that time. She held his gaze for one moment that seemed to stretch on for hours and then another before she gave a silent but frustrated sigh and got to work.
Sakura didn’t know how long she stood over the man – the gangster – as she attempted to stem the bleeding. He had been stabbed in the upper right quadrant of the abdominal cavity. She knew for sure his liver had been nicked, but judging by his poor breathing, she suspected the lower portion of his lung had been pierced as well.
If she had an ultrasound or any medical piece of equipment other than a single scalpel and some crappy sutures, she might be able to save him, but as each second passed, she could feel his life slipping away. And with it, hers.
Another warm gush of blood slid down the back of Sakura’s hand and down her arm before collecting on the sleeve of her shirt. The material was dyed red, but the deep crimson turned it nearly black everywhere it touched.
She paid it no mind. Her entire focus centered on how she could possibly delay this man’s death. He had been in terrible agony when she had first started, but as the blood continued to stain her hands and the moving pad beneath him, he had quickly lost consciousness. She didn’t even know if he would want saving at this point. The muscles were sliced clean through, his liver had damage and she would be lucky to save his lung. His quality of life would be terrible. But she had to try. Because her life depended upon it too.
“Fuck,” Sakura cursed.
She grabbed a large wad of bandages from the little medical kit they had provided her and began shoving gauze inside the hole in the man’s chest. She didn’t know if they were sanitary at this point, but she was far past the ability to care. She had to do something to stop the bleeding.
“What the hell are you doing?” Shisui asked somewhere over her shoulder. She had been left in his and Itachi’s charge.
Sakura didn’t look up as she continued her work. “I’m packing the injury. This is beyond what I can do here. He needs a hospital.”
“That’s not an option.”
“That’s the only option if you want him to live!” she retorted.
Shisui might have said something else, but she was no longer listening for she glanced at her patient to find he was no longer breathing. Another long string of curses slipped between her lips before she placed her palms on the man’s chest and began compressions.
Somewhere very far in the back of her mind, she knew it was useless. But the louder, even more urgent voice yelled at her to keep going. If not for him, then for herself.
She put all her strength and energy into her compressions. She pushed down until his ribs cracked and his cartilage crunched beneath her hands. The seconds stretched onto minutes and the minutes into what felt like hours until Sakura’s arms ached. Her body quit before her mind gave the option.
Numb, her hands stilled over his chest. Her eyes drifted over the now-deceased man’s face. He was grey. Whatever blood might still be circling from her attempted CPR was pooling in his abdominal cavity and seeping through the gauze she had shoved into his side.
Utterly spent, Sakura stepped back from the table only for her knees to give out on her. She would have collapsed to the floor hard enough to bruise if it hadn’t been for the pair of hands that helped soften her fall. She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t dare look at them. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man on the table.
He was dead. Which meant only one thing: she would follow shortly.
Sakura’s gaze dropped to her hands. They were stained crimson, wet and sticky, but they didn’t tremble. They never shook. No matter how stressed she was. And given the circumstances, she was under a great deal at the moment.
As soon as Madara learned of her failure, he would kill her. She wondered if he would be merciful with a simple bullet to the back of her skull; or would he make her suffer a slow, painful death before he dumped her in some ditch on the outskirts of town?
Sakura couldn’t move. She wondered if her body even remembered how to. She just sat there. It could have been a minute. It could have been a year. Then she heard the sharp clip of Madara’s exclusive, polished shoes. Her eyes didn’t leave her hands as he stopped a pace behind her. She barely dared to breathe as he delivered his verdict.
“Itachi, dispose of this,” he ordered. Then the longest pause in the world followed before he finally said, “Shisui…take her home.”
Amazed, Sakura turned her gaze up to Madara slowly as she tried to process if she had just heard him correctly. He simply stared down at her. His expression was utterly unreadable, but for a moment she thought she saw the slightest shift of something behind his eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but he turned and walked away before she could look closer.
Stunned, Sakura didn’t move as his footsteps faded away. She likely would have sat there forever had Shisui not finally reached down and helped her to her feet. The real world felt so far away. Like she was seeing everything through water. She barely remembered being guided into the car.
The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of her apartment door, her shirt and hands still stained with blood. Not even the hottest shower could seem to scrub it all away.
In the shadows of the deepest part of the city, there is a place not even Death dare lurks. That is where you can find him. The Mob Boss of the city. The man who controls everything. Including her very life. That is where you will find Uchiha Madara.
The long awaited chapter 2. Now that this story is becoming a small ficlet, I have renamed it to “Not the Only One”. Enjoy!
Chapter Two Into the City MadaSaku/TobiSaku
This was not supposed to be happening.
That single thought had rolled through Sakura’s mind many times in recent weeks, but never as strongly as in this moment.
From her place on the witness stand, she couldn’t hide from any eyes. Not the judge. Not the jury. Not the lawyers. Not Tobirama.
Not Madara.
He had always been a hard man to read. Even after nine years of marriage, there had still been moments when it was impossible to tell what was passing behind those black eyes. Like a statue sculpted from ice, Madara sat unmoving. The coldness he regarded her with was nothing she didn’t expect. Having disappeared on him nearly a year ago she hadn’t anticipated a warm welcome back. Even less so when her return had been prompted by a court subpoena.
“Answer the question, Miss Haruno,” the judge demanded.
Sakura didn’t blink. Her maiden name having become so familiar to her as the months passed since the divorce papers had been signed and mailed. Her identity returning to her.
“Miss Haruno, would you like me to repeat the question?” the prosecutor asked.
Even without looking at him, Sakura could feel Tobirama’s eyes on her. They had spoken a few times since that fateful day a year ago, but not about the reason she was here in court today. This had completely blindsided her.
“No, I heard you,” Sakura said, not quite coldly. But there was a bite of something in her tone. “You asked if I had even been aware of Madara embezzling funds from the Uchiha-Senju Corporate while married. My answer is no. Madara and I never discussed business when we were together.”
Calm and professional, Sakura answered the prosecutor’s questions. Her gaze never wavered from him as she spoke. Each question he asked attempted to chip away at her a little more. Break her down, destroy her testimony and her character. The demeaning questions, the lack of respect shown to her was obvious, even if he poised his questions in a seemingly innocent way.
“Let’s discuss your marriage, Miss Haruno,” he continued.
Sakura felt her spine stiffen defensively. “What about my marriage?”
“Was it happy? Were you happy?” he asked, his expression turning vaguely sympathetic.
She saw through his false sense of pity. “I fail to see what purpose that question serves,” she said, her gaze briefly flickering to the Judge.
The older man behind the high bench beside her looked ready to intervene, but the prosecutor stepped forward. “I promise my questioning has a reason, your Honor.”
The Judge looked doubtfully but he nodded nevertheless, silently granting his permission.
The prosecutor returned to her. “Miss Haruno?”
Sakura held his gaze for a long moment, weighing how much she could still conceal. How much of her dignity the courts would allow her to leave with. Her red lips twisted into an ironic smirk as she realized they intended to strip her down bare. Her eyes briefly dropped to her lap.
When she raised her gaze again, the look was gone. “Are you married, Mr…?”
“Tanaka,” the prosecutor provided. Then he smiled, “And yes, I am.”
“And is your wife happy?”
“She is. Very much so.”
Sakura simply eyed him. The prosecutor was in his late forties. He was dressed well in an expensive suit and a pair of shoes that gleamed in the bright courtroom lights. He obviously had a successful career with a hard-earned reputation. Tobirama and Hashirama wouldn’t have hired him otherwise.
“Are you certain?” Sakura asked, her voice soft, almost as if she were speaking to a lover. Still, it rang out clearly for everyone to hear. “You must spend plenty of late nights at the office. What time do you get home? Nine or ten? Maybe later? That gives her plenty of time to pay the bills, order the groceries, make dinner. Touch up her make-up after she realizes just how cold and lonely such a big house is. It only takes two hours for the swelling of her eyes to go down. After so much practice, a fake smile becomes her normal smile eventually.”
The following silence was echoing. The prosecutor eyed her for a long moment and she wondered if something she had said struck a nerve.
Then he swallowed and his expression cleared. “You left Mr. Uchiha quite suddenly, Miss Haruno. Why was that?”
That familiar feeling of betrayal rose within her as she recalled the night she realized Madara was having an affair. It burned within her, tearing open the old wound, but she kept her cool façade. Every eye rested on her. Their pressure almost physical as they all waited to hear what she would say.
None, however, was as penetrating as Madara. His stare was piercing. Like a physical weight, he held her in place.
Sakura purposely avoided his gaze. Some part of her still stung that he hadn’t come after her after she had left. She had sent the divorce papers and he had simply signed them. As if she had been nothing to him for last decade. That almost hurt more than the fact he had found another woman’s company more pleasurable than her own.
Still, Sakura held her strong guise. There wasn’t any question the lawyers could ask her that could make her feel small or insecure. She had felt plenty of that in the last year on her own. And she had worked hard enough to rebuild herself from nothing to fall back on those self-doubts.
“Because he was having an affair,” Sakura eventually answered, her voice threatening to waver.
Mr. Tanaka was either unmoved or unconcerned. “Not because Madara had asked you to move a large sum of money for him?”
“No,” she shook her head.
The questions turned less personal after that. The prosecutor wrapped up his questioning before the defense took their turn.
By the time the courts had let out nearly five hours later with the jury coming back with a guilty verdict against Madara on all counts, Sakura was exhausted. She had sat stone-faced through it all. Unmoving, she watched from the public benches behind the defense’s desk as Madara was escorted out of the courtroom. He was far too wealthy and held far too much power to be removed in handcuffs.
Still, Sakura’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again. For though they were divorced, Madara had been an important person to her for a big portion of her life. Someone she had planned on spending her life with, someone she had once thought would father her children. But that future no longer existed and that knowledge left a hollow ache in her heart.
“Sakura,” a voice called softly. She glanced at Shikamaru, her lawyer and longtime friend, as he squeezed her arm gently. “Are you ready?”
Pursing her lips, Sakura swallowed hard to keep her emotions from showing. She glanced back towards the courtroom doors as another attendee exited, allowing the loud chatter and flashes of photography from the press to slip through. The idea of having to push through another gauntlet of reporters made her stomach roll.
Automatically her gaze fell back to Madara, only he was already gone. She was alone. Just as she had been for these long months since leaving.
Inhaling a steady breath, she nodded. “Yeah.”
With Shikamaru at her side, Sakura pressed through the courtroom doors. Immediately, the press was on her, shoving microphones in her face and flashing her photograph. She kept her head held high, her mouth firmly pressed shut as she marched through the throngs until they reached the back of the courthouse where the reporters weren’t allowed.
Once the heavy doors had closed behind them, Shikamaru told her, “There will be a sentencing trial in a few weeks. The jury will decide Madara’s punishment then. You’re not required to be present, but if you want to go, let me know and I’ll accompany you.”
Sakura nodded numbly, her mind still reeling from everything that had happened that day. She didn’t know yet if she wanted to be there for that. To watch if Madara would not only lose everything he had worked for – and stolen – but potentially his freedom as well. It was all overwhelming.
However, before Sakura could begin to process everything, she heard the clack of expensive shoes echo on the tiles behind them. “Sakura,” someone called.
Both Sakura and Shikamaru glanced over their shoulders to find none other than Tobirama hurrying towards them. Hashirama and their lawyer, the asshole prosecutor, were a small distance behind him, their eyes tracking Tobirama’s movements as he descended the few steps that led to the courtyard and the private parking lot just beyond.
Upon sight of him, heartbreak and resentment swelled within her. She didn’t know if it was justified and frankly, it didn’t matter to her right now. He was one of the ones responsible for all of this. For Madara potentially going to prison, for tarnishing her name and leaving her feeling as if she had just run from home and her husband all over again. It left her with a strange conflict of emotions.
Without pause, Sakura continued on, pretending as if she hadn’t seen or heard him.
Tobirama’s pace increased. “Sakura, please wait.”
She was angry and hurt and upset, but even still, she found her pace slowing. If only because Tobirama had been the one to help her out nearly a year ago.
Beside her, Shikamaru’s hand slipped her to elbow. “I have to advise against you speaking to him,” he murmured in her ear.
She pursed her lips together before her gaze flickered up to meet his. “I know. Just give me two minutes.”
A frown crossed his face but he nodded minutely before he stepped away to a respectable distance. Sakura watched him go before she turned to meet Tobirama, her expression guarded and her shoulders stiff.
He stopped before her. He looked impeccable in a three-piece designer suit with gold cufflinks and a navy blue, silk tie. His white hair was pushed back away from his face, and though the trial had been in the headlines of the news for the last month, she couldn’t spot one line of stress on his handsome face.
“I’m sorry,” Tobirama said after he had caught up to her. “I didn’t want to drag you into this. This trial wasn’t supposed to involve you.”
“But I was involved,” Sakura retorted coolly. “My name has been dragged through the mud on every front page of every newspaper. My reputation has been shredded, my morals questioned and my career threatened.”
He shook his head. “I tried to talk my lawyer out of calling you to the stand. I never wanted any of this for you.”
Sakura laughed without humor. “But it still happened, didn’t it? After I left Madara, I had to work for everything. I built myself up and just when I thought I could move on, I get subpoenaed. The media has called me everything from a gold digger to a manipulative whore. I’ve been accused of marrying Madara for his money, using my body to steal tens of thousands from the corporation and then divorcing him once I got all the cash I needed. So tell me, what exactly did you think would happen to me when I get dragged into all of this?”
Tobirama didn’t immediately respond but the guilt was clearly visible in his face. It was enough that it looked like it physically pained him to hear everything she had gone through, but she didn’t feel any sympathy for him. In the end, she had suffered more than anyone. Even Madara hadn’t been slandered to nearly the same extent as her.
“I am so sorry, Sakura,” Tobirama murmured. He reached out towards her. “Please, tell me what I can do.”
As if he was poising to strike, Sakura flash-stepped back out of his reach, a threat and a warning apparent in her expression. “You can leave me alone,” she said, her words dripping with venom.
She didn’t miss the pained look in his expression before she turned her back and crossed the courtyard. Shikamaru followed behind, only briefly tossing a glance back at Tobirama before they headed towards their cars.
And as Sakura walked away, she pretended not to notice the pair of eyes that tracked her every movement until she was in her car and on the road, making her way back out of the city that had only ever chewed her up and spat her out.
Enjoy this art I made for @sariasprincy ‘s fic under the knife!! I was so inspired by that last chapter. This is such a refreshing fic with a mature couple. One of the best I have read! Please take a moment to read even if you aren’t multisaku . (The cursive is messy on purpose by the way like a doctors handwriting. Haha )
Under the Knife
Sariasprincy
Summary:
In the shadows of the deepest part of the city, there is a place not even Death dare lurks. That is where you can find him. The Mob Boss of the city. The man who controls everything. Including her very life. That is where you will find Uchiha Madara. [Mobster!Madara x Surgeon!Sakura]
