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Really, Sakura should have seen it coming. He had fallen for another Uchiha just because she was standoffish and pretty. He should have known it wouldn’t take much for him to fall for another one just as hard. All it had taken was a single smile.
He hadn’t realised it as the beginnings of a crush right then and there. Instead, that breath-taking smile had only made him more curious about the one behind it. Even more so, considering it was Uchiha Madara – one of the legends he had learnt about back in the academy before he’d screwed with a seal which never should have been touched.
He was no good with fuinjutsu, and after years of having wandered around, he was left with only one choice. Adjust and move forwards with his life. After all, Sasuke had gone with Naruto in the end, and his parents had died in the war. Tsunade was pretty much the only one who might have missed him, and even then she had become a rather distant presence in his life after the war. Ino had been too lost in her own grief to spend time with him. There was nothing waiting for him back there, so he’d chosen to carve himself a new life there in the warring states period… which had swiftly come to an end five or so years after he’d found his civilian clan and integrated himself amongst their numbers as a bastard child trained by a wandering Hatake.
Which was also how he’d spun it once he’d reached Konohagakure along with his clan, in search of the safety and security it had offered them. Which was how he’d ended up on the cliff overlooking the Hokage Mountain delivering a message to the Shodaime Hokage when one Uchiha Madara had smiled so beautifully. He had vanished as quickly as he could, content with keeping the blush which had threatened to spread across his cheeks a secret.
Uchiha Madara was the head of the Uchiha Clan, and she was incredibly pretty when she smiled. Though, as Sakura soon learnt, those smiles were a rare thing – something not scene much outside close friends and family. Not that Madara had any close family left.
Frowning at the thought, Sakura sighed. “Again with impossible crushes,” he muttered, shaking his head as he remembered Sasuke. He hadn’t been chosen then, and he wouldn’t be chosen now. Uchiha Madara was even further out of his league than Sasuke had been.
Still, that didn’t stop him from at least trying to be on good terms with the Uchiha. Though, if he was honest, he didn’t get many opportunities to interact with Uchiha Madara. Sakura was at home in the hospital, with the occasional out-village mission every now and then. He preferred saving lives there, where his future-knowledge of medicine leant a helping hand to the Senju’s medics. The Uchiha had naturally been behind on the medical front, though both he and other members of Konoha’s Medics were working to change that.
But the fact of the matter was that he wasn’t part of an important clan, which meant his hopes and aspirations both of the working and romantic nature were easily crushed under foot. He wasn’t as valued as Senju and Uchiha were. His contributions weren’t always attributed to him. Sakura told himself it didn’t matter. Not so long as the object of his crush was happy. Not so long as the medical care improved.
He was an intruder in that time, and he was constantly reminded of that fact. His higher-ups never liked it when he accidently fell back on old ways and tried to order them around. He wasn’t the apprentice of the Hokage anymore. He wasn’t even the student of one. But that was alright, or so he told himself. It wasn’t like he needed the attention.
There was only really one woman’s attention he wanted, but he was already consigned to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest whenever he spotted the mane of wild inky hair. He wanted to run his hands through it, laughing as his fingers tangled in the messy black locks. He wanted to run his thumb over the dark bags always there underneath her eyes, and coo at her that she needed more sleep. Scowling, Sakura splashed water over his face, grateful for the rudimentary plumbing in his house there. He needed to get the thoughts about what he couldn’t have out of his mind.
Rather, he needed to focus on earning a decent reputation even if only within the hospital.
It wasn’t like he had caught the eye of anyone important, no matter how he longed to have those onyx eyes fall on him. No matter how much he wanted to see her smile again.
“Hina-san recommended you for this trial field medic position,” Hashirama spoke, not really looking at him as he assessed the ragtag group before him. Instead, his attention strayed to Madara more often than not, with something akin to concern in his eyes as he took in the hostile stances of the ones set to accompany her on their mission which would take them to the very fringes of Fire Country. “I hope you’ll ensure their safe return, Haruno-san.” Brown eyes met his own for a split second, and Sakura bowed in acknowledgement.
“I will do my best, Hokage-sama,” he said, falling in with the group as Madara began leading them out of the office. He was already dressed for the mission, storage scrolls prepped, kunai and shuriken packed away in his pouch, his long silky pink locks tied back with a replica of the red ribbon Ino had given him so long ago. The door closed behind them with a slight clink, and Sakura felt his heart race at the realisation that he was going on a mission with Madara. Part of him felt slightly guilty for wanting her to get injured, so he would have an excuse to interact with her. Really, he hoped he wouldn’t have to see her, bloodied and injured, but such was the life of a shinobi.
“Ah,” the voice had his pausing in his step, and Sakura turned, blinking at the sight of the familiar blonde-haired woman. Senju Hina. The one who had recommended him as a field medic. “So you’re off on your mission,” she said, voice holding an odd nasal pitch to it. “Well, I certainly hope you come back alive.”
Sakura felt his eyebrows knot together. He could see the nasty glint to her eyes, and he knew right then that she meant nothing of what she had just said. Honestly, he couldn’t say he was surprised. Senju Hina had hated him on sight, and the feeling was oddly mutual. She considered healing to be a feminine art for some inane reason which often had Sakura rolling his eyes. In her eyes, men were meant to be the ones fighting and risking their lives.
Coward, she had called him oftentimes. And Sakura knew right then and there that she hadn’t signed him up because she thought he could do it. Rather, she was hoping he would die out there as he was supposed to. “Bitch,” Sakura muttered under his breath, remembering all of his work that she had stolen the credit for. She had gotten away with it too – simply because more people were liable to believe her because she was a Senju. He had been called jealous when he had tried to falsify her false claims. Ha. As if he – a medic with all his knowledge from the future – would be outstripped by the likes of her. Sadly, he couldn’t wring her throat or bodily throw her from the room as his shishou would have done. That would only get him thrown out of the hospital, or worse.
Pushing the thoughts of that annoying woman away, he hurried to catch up with his assigned squad, who, he realised, were staring at him with varying expressions of exasperation and annoyance. No doubt they thought him weak too.
Sakura was greatly looking forwards to proving them wrong, along with making it back alive. He would have survived almost anything anyway, but now he was doing just that out of pure spite. It was such an excellent motivator.
A grin curled at his lips, teeth bared. His canine teeth had always been unusually sharp, even Kakashi had made a mention of it, and it meant that when he smiled, he did so like a wolf. Sakura smiled, jade green eyes glinting like a predator on the hunt, and Sakura felt satisfaction thrum through him as the rest of his temporary squad looked away.
He would never admit the fact that some of the satisfaction was from finally having those onyx black eyes look toward him and finally see him.
“That is it!” The shout had Sakura tilting his head as he stared at the Senju male whose name he couldn’t quite recall. His shoulders sunk, eyes darting over to where Madara stood, calm and unblinking even as her supposed subordinate started ranting at her, his words cruel and vicious because he evidently knew he would never be able to do much damage in a physical fight against her. Sakura felt his hands curled into fists, and part of him wanted to snarl something at the man – but he knew Madara was fully capable of defending herself from both the idiot’s words and his fists. “None of us here even want to follow this bitch—”
“Hokage-sama, assigned me to lead this team,” Madara spoke, voice cutting through the stillness of the night air like a knife, and Sakura felt himself shiver. Her voice was beautiful, and he wanted her to address him using it. “Are you questioning his decisions?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing,” she hissed, onyx eyes narrowed into little flinty chips. “Complain all you want once we’re back in Konoha, but out here I hold the authority. I am your commanding officer, through Hashirama’s orders, and I do not want to hear your complaints about my person.” She turned away then, looking towards the direction they had been moving in before the complaints had started. “Now, we should—”
“Apologise.”
It took Sakura a moment to realise the word had slipped from his lips, almost unbidden. He couldn’t take it back. Madara had already turned to him, liquid black eyes piercing through him like an arrow to the chest. “Excuse me?” she spoke, eyebrow arched in question.
Sakura straightened his back, turning instead to look at the idiot Senju who’d insulted his crush. “Apologise,” he repeated, slightly more forceful than before, narrowing his own eyes on the target of his ire. He couldn’t back down.
The Senju scoffed. “And why should I listen to the medic?” he asked, and Sakura almost snorted in amusement. He said the term like it was offensive to him. He hummed quietly, wondering how many times the man before him had been patched up by medics.
Sakura raised his own eyebrow then. “Because I’m the medic, and I’ll be the only thing standing between you and death, should you somehow obtain grievous injuries…” Like having a fist impaled through his ribcage. Wisely, he kept the rest of that comment to himself, flicking out dirt from underneath his fingernails as Ino had once taught him to do. “Just saying…” he drawled, enjoying the slight twitch of the man’s cheek it earnt him.
“Sorry,” he spat, proving he had some modicum of intelligence, and Sakura ignored the urge to go and punch the man. He had impulse control, contrary to popular belief, though it was being severely tested, or so he found.
Madara stared at him then for a few more moments, and Sakura felt something bloom in his chest at the approval he could spy hidden deep within her stare.
“Bootlicker,” someone murmured behind him.
Sakura fought the urge to measure just how far he could throw someone like a damned javelin. He was fairly sure it had been a while since he’d tested that, and as such he was probably overdue for a little test of that sort.
Hina’s face was absolutely priceless when he came back, whole, unscathed, and with glowing recommendations from the ones who mattered. Part of him wished he had a sharingan, or at the very least a camera, with which to record the image, but alas…
His life settled into a routine then, and sadly enough, he didn’t see Madara again for quite some time. The Yamanaka moved to Konoha, along with the Nara and the Akimichi, and Sakura soon went into the flower shop they brought along with them. They were to brighten up the little office he had earnt himself with his constant hard work – despite the sabotage from certain members of certain clans.
Sakura wasn’t entirely sure why it was the majority of the Senju who were offended by his presence. Perhaps because he was showing them up in skill? He was just a ‘clanless nobody’. Civilian clans didn’t seem to hold any substance to the shinobi he met there. Still, he was grateful the Uchiha, at least, acknowledged him.
A sigh escaped him, and he looked at the blue roses growing from the small wooden pot. They were a constant reminder of his unattainable love. Sakura didn’t mind it though, and oftentimes, he found himself wondering as to whether he could just give Madara the damned flowers. He was fairly sure most women liked flowers – but then again, Madara wasn’t most women. She was unique, and Sakura loved her for it.
He wanted that for himself, and he ached to see her smile once again. That happy expression on her face was growing rarer and rarer as time passed, and it didn’t sit right with him. She had built her village with her best friend. She was supposed to be happy.
“Haruno!” Hina’s voice was practically a snarl as she shoved a file into his arms. “Your patient is waiting for you. Get to it.”
Sakura felt his eyebrow twitch, and he swore one day soon he would punt the annoying woman through a window. Scowling, he hurried through the confusing tumble of corridors. He swore the designer of the hospital building had to be drunk when they created the place. “Right,” he said, reaching the room marked on the file which he flipped open as he strode into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Uchiha… Madara… sama?” Sakura almost tripped over his own feet as he spied those onyx black eyes peering at him from behind the fringe which fell so deliberately over one eye.
Really, Sakura thought that was a waste – to only be able to see one side of her beautiful face… Not that he would ever tell her that much. “Can you make this quick?” Madara asked, gesturing to the bloodied mess someone had made out of her leg. “The oaf insisted I come here to get treatment, but I do have other business to take care of.”
Humming, Sakura unwrapped the bandages, wincing at the abrasions and cuts he saw there. Were those splinters? He frowned. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that oaf you’re talking about is our beloved Hokage,” he murmured, blinking as he heard the snort of amusement.
“You would be correct,” Madara said, and it was then that Sakura noticed the cut slicing through her lip. But sadly her leg took priority. The matter of her face was only cosmetic. “Now please hurry—”
“The matter of your health is an important one, Uchiha-sama,” Sakura said, a smile on his lips as he got to work with pulling out the foreign matter from the wound. “You shouldn’t be in a hurry when it comes to that,” he continued, chest feeling terribly warm and fuzzy as he felt her stare. He loved being noticed by her, and he loved speaking to her all the more. He had been watching from afar for far too long. “After all, your haste to be healed and your hurry to continue your work might result in you becoming sick as a result.” His hands hummed with the green glow of his chakra as he set about mending the lacerations to her lily-white skin. It didn’t deserve to be broken.
“And what business is it of yours what I get up to?” Madara asked, black eyebrow raised, and it was then that Sakura almost commented on her appearance. His inner Ino was making an appearance.
Sakura could still remember learning about beauty from Ino. She had said he ought to learn, what with him and his long hair which required careful maintenance. He liked it too – which was probably part of the reason why he had been bullied by the other boys at a younger age. “It’s not,” he replied, smiling in satisfaction as he stared at her healed leg. “Just advice from your medic,” he said, reaching for her face then – resisting the urge to scowl when she got up, ready to leave. He wasn’t done healing her yet, and he would be damned if he left that cut crossing through her lip to scar. “Your face is injured,” he said, staring at her pointedly.
“It will heal,” she stated matter-of-factly, and Sakura gritted his teeth.
“It might scar if you leave it as it is,” he said, mentally pleading with her to let him heal it so she could continue to smile so beautifully without scar tissue getting in the way.
A snort of derisive laughter escaped her then. “It won’t make much difference then,” she muttered, eyes narrowing into catlike slits. “My face is already ghastly enough as it is—”
His hand lashed out then, striking out like a snake as he grabbed a hold of her shoulder, the fingers of his other hand coated with the required chakra as he made to heal the cut slicing through her lips. “Who told you that?” Sakura asked, lips curling down into a frown. “Your face isn’t ghastly, rather the opposite in fact… and your smile is devastatingly beautiful.” His thumb brushed over her cheek, green clashing with black as he stared into those inky irises which seemed to swallow her pupils. “It might be selfish of me, but I don’t want to lose it.”
Sakura blinked then, jerking his hands back as he realised he was stroking her face. It had just been his thumb running over her cheek like he’d always wanted to—and gods her cheeks were unfairly soft—but it didn’t change the fact he wasn’t supposed to be doing just that.
“I, er…” He scratched at his own cheek. “You’re all healed?” he offered, feeling the tips of his ears start to burn as those dark eyes bore into him so intently.
“Do you flirt with all your patients?” she asked, raising a single ebony eyebrow at him before she turned on her heel, walking out of the room.
Sakura gave in to the overwhelming impulse to smash his head into the wall. “Idiot. Idiot!” he hissed, smacking his head into the wonderfully hard wall another few times for good measure. “Why did you say that?”
“Hmm,” Madara hummed as she watched him heal her arm that time around. It was battered, and slightly burnt, but thankfully not broken. Though a broken bone would have taken longer for him to heal and would have required her to actually take some time off for once. Sakura thought she deserved some after how hard she had been working as of late. “I heard something interesting,” she said, and Sakura blinked. “Did you know that most people in this hospital call you a ‘wonderfully uptight, professional man’?”
“That’s something of a reputation I’ve earned, yes.” He nodded, tilting his head in silent question, bangs tickling his skin as they brushed against one cheek. “Is there something the matter with that?”
She chuckled under her breath then. “No,” she murmured. “There’s not.”
Sakura wasn’t exactly sure what possessed him to ask on the nineth time Madara wound up as his patient inside the hospital walls. All he knew for certain was that he was hungry, given his late shift, and Madara seemingly hadn’t had anything to eat recently – if the rumbling of her stomach was anything to go by – which was how he found himself asking, “Do you want to eat together?” he enquired, a small sliver of hope curling in his belly at the contemplative look sent his way at the question. “I’ve just finished my shift…”
“Sure,” she said, shifting on her feet ever so slightly, and Sakura swallowed hard. Eating dinner was something done between friends, and lovers, a snide voice in the back of his head added. “Is there a particular place you have in mind?”
“There’s a ramen place that just opened up on the main street?” he offered. “If you’re OK with that… They opened recently, and I’ve heard only good things about the food. Unless you don’t like ramen. Would it be too forward of me to ask what sort of food you prefer?”
Her lips curved into a wry grin, and Sakura felt heat pool in his lower belly as she stared up at him so prettily through dark lashes. “Why, Sakura-sensei…” she murmured. “You make it sound like you’re asking me on a date…”
“It’s just food preferences,” he said, looking away then so he didn’t do something he would regret. Like kiss her. Or hug her tightly. Or—
“Ramen will suffice,” she said, grabbing a hold of his arm, dragging him in the direction of the ramen place he had mentioned. “But next time I want barbeque. Akimichi’s.”
Sakura blinked. He would be eating with her again. The thing in his chest bloomed, and a smile pulled at his lips. “Of course, my lady,” he murmured, ignoring the sharp look it earnt him as he dutifully followed behind her – letting her drag him to get their dinner.
It was late by that time, the darkness concealing the redness of his ears, and there was relatively little traffic on the streets. Less people to see him and Madara. Less people to glare at the one he loved – so much so that it was almost painful. Part of him was grateful. Because if she smiled there would be fewer people to witness its beauty.
He was selfish like that.
He gave her the blue roses on her next visit to the hospital. For putting up with me, he had said, hating the way his ears had reddened as he all but shoved them into her arms and hurried away – because he was still in the middle of his shift. Just something to liven up your house, he had added. I heard it could use some more colour.
The second anniversary of the village’s foundation was coming up soon, and both Madara and he were growing busier as the days went by. Somehow he still managed to get dinner with her once every few days, despite their full schedules, and Sakura was grateful for that much. Still, he couldn’t help but notice how few people spent time with Madara.
Every now and then he spied her walking through the village with Hashirama at her side. Jealousy thrummed whenever he spotted that, but luckily Hashirama had Mito. Otherwise he doubted he would be able to bear it. For all that Hashirama seemed to enjoy her company on occasion, Sakura couldn’t say the same for his brother. Red eyes were always narrowed in her direction, distrust shining in his gaze whenever Madara did something. Anything. His hands itched whenever he spotted the white-haired man glaring at her. Part of him wanted to wrap Madara in his arms and shield her from those stares, but the part of him which wasn’t an idiot in love reminded him Madara was fully capable of dealing with things like that herself.
A sigh escaped him one evening in the marketplace, on a rare day he was free of the hospital. He was on his way home, after yet another day of no Madara, when a familiar gloved hand snaked out of the darkness of the alleyway.
Sakura didn’t dodge, instead allowing himself to be hauled into the shadows of the buildings towering over them on either side. His back slammed into the wall with a light thud, hands landing on the walls either side of him, and he could only blink as he spotted those onyx eyes glaring at him in annoyance and nervousness…? He frowned then, unsure as to what other emotions were swirling in their depths. “What do you want from me?” she demanded, and his concern grew as he spied the flecks of drying blood spattered on her face and clothing. She was still wearing her red armour, he realised belatedly, evidently having just made it back after a mission. “You’ve gotten me dinner… tried to get close to me… so what do you want?” she asked, enunciating every word of her frantic question.
He blinked, taking a moment to digest her words, but his mouth was already moving without any conscious effort on his part. “Are you hurt?” he asked, voice sounding so painfully gentle compared to the harshness of her own.
She pushed his hand away. “It’s not my blood, and don’t try to change the topic!” Her hands curled into fists, shaking as they rested on either side of his face. “Just tell me what you want already, and then you can stop pretending to enjoy my company!”
Sakura paused then, her question ringing around in his brain. What do you want from me? “Nothing,” he murmured, reaching out to tuck some of her wild hair back behind her ear. So that he could see her face, beautiful even tensed in rage and apprehension. Because she didn’t see what he could – couldn’t understand why he was so taken with her. “Everything…”
Madara frowned, batting his hand away once more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Uchiha-sama, that you’ve stolen my heart,” he said, smiling at the confusion which crinkled at her brow. “But I’m just a man without any standing in this village, and I know I’ll never be able to pursue you like I want to. You’re beautiful in everything you do, and I treasure your smiles because I know how rare they are.” He tugged at her arms then, watching as they fell back to her sides as she blinked rapidly, her confusion and shock palpable. “So I guess all I really want is for you to smile more…” He raised his hands in mock surrender then. “No ulterior motive here.”
He slipped away then, not wanting to hear the inevitable rejection. He knew it was wrong to want to covet what he couldn’t have. But he couldn’t help the way he felt. He just hoped Madara would still be willing to have dinner with him on occasion.
At least they could be friends, couldn’t they?
It was the night of the bonfire, of the village’s second celebration since its founding, when the knock on his door came. Wondering who it could be, Sakura pulled it open, blinking at the sight before him. Madara was wearing a yukata. That was all which rang out in his brain as he stumbled back as she stepped over the threshold. “Where”—Madara folded her arms, tapping her foot loudly against the decking of his porch—“have you been?”
“Uh.” Sakura blinked in confusion. “Here?”
“Not what I meant,” she said grumpily. “You’ve been avoiding me in the village,” she continued, and Sakura scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. “And I want to know why.”
He shifted on his feet. “I haven’t been avoiding you… before I just went to all of those places, because then I’d have a greater chance of bumping into you… and speaking with you if I were lucky enough,” he said, cheeks feeling like they were on fire as he continued speaking. “I thought you’d want some space, after… after what I told you that night…”
Madara snorted. “Well, you thought wrong,” she muttered, pulling the door shut behind her, prowling over towards him like a cat on the hunt. “You’re also an idiot.”
“Oh…”
“You didn’t even stick around to hear what I wanted to tell you, imbecile,” she grumbled, and Sakura found himself frowning as he was once again backed against the nearest wall. Did Madara like pinning him against the wall or something? If it was her doing the pinning, then he didn’t mind it. “My clan is aware that I will not be marrying within, given most of the candidates are insipid fools who think they can control my actions and thus the clan through such a match.” She scoffed at that, and Sakura felt highly affronted at the idea that anyone could control Uchiha Madara. Nobody should try to control women, or so was his thinking, especially not the ones who could utterly destroy oneself in a fight. “I cannot marry someone of high status in another clan, given my status as the Head of the Uchiha Clan – given the elders and the people I am meant to lead would worry about outside manipulation.” She spat the word out like it offended her. “Not to mention I prioritise strength above all else when it comes to a match… meaning of the weak, low-level grunts who I would be allowed to marry there are none who could hold my attention. Truthfully, I doubted I would ever get married,” she said, sighing then. “And then along comes you…”
Sakura bit his lip, hating the tentative seed of hope which buried itself within his chest. “Does that mean I have a chance to hold your affections?” he asked, waiting with bated breath for the answer which would either shatter his heart, or allow his dreams to be realised.
“You come from a civilian clan, meaning there’s no worry of outside interference from your clan,” she said, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. It wasn’t a no or a yes. “But it takes more than pretty words and flowers to court an Uchiha. Are you ready for that much?”
A smile curved at his lips. It wasn’t a no or a yes. It was a maybe. “Uchiha-sama, there’s more to me than pretty words and the blossoms after which I’m named.”
Onyx eyes twinkled in the light of the moon as she stepped back outside, looking back at him with what he realised to be one of warmth and amusement. His heart fluttered in his chest, and that little seed of hope bloomed into something more. “Then I look forward to finding out,” she told him, before she vanished into the night.
“I am really, really, really sorry,” he muttered, fretting like a mother hen as he placed his hands over Madara’s ribs, healing them as fast as he dared to. “I thought you would dodge that last blow,” he said, feeling oddly shaken at the sight of Madara coughing up blood. She was meant to be stronger than him – and admittedly she was, but that hadn’t stopped him from getting a hit in. He wasn’t as good of a fighter as her, but when he did manage to land a blow, it was devastating. “Are you feeling alright? Any more blood? Do you want a drink – to, you know, get the taste of blood out of your mouth? Maybe I should take you to the hospital, that’s what you do when you injure your sparring partner, isn’t—”
A gloved hand pressed itself over his mouth, stopping his word vomit before he could further embarrass himself before the woman he loved. There was something about the woman which always had his brain turning into mush in front of her. “I’m fine, you worrywart,” she muttered, rolling her eyes fondly at his antics.
She had been on the receiving end of them several times already. Sakura figured she was getting accustomed to him and his babbling, and dimly, he prayed it was a good sign. He had been courting her for a while – the longest anyone had ever lasted, or so Madara’s clanmates told him. The Uchiha were only growing fonder of him as time went on, more so because he could calm the hellion, as they had so affectionately dubbed Madara, down before she started spewing fire everywhere in her rage. Plus there was the fact he had healed quite a number of them at the hospital, and the Uchiha Clan on the whole were rather grateful for medics, given the poorer quality of their own during the clan wars.
But the way he calmed her was awfully similar to how she calmed him down whenever he spied Tobirama giving her that look. The one which made him want to punch the white-haired Senju into the stratosphere.
Sadly, he had never quite managed to.
Partially because he was the Hokage’s brother, and partially because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get rid of the man discreetly. Not to mention it was treason.
Not that he really cared too much about that last point.
The door to the Hokage’s office slammed open with a bang, and Sakura blinked as Madara stormed in, like the thunder before the lightning. Hashirama paused mid-speech, looking surprised by his dear friend’s arrival. “Madara-chan?” he mumbled, frowning then. “I’m in the middle of—”
“I’m not here for you, you blithering moron,” she hissed, and Sakura felt the ghost of a smirk curl on his lips when she linked arms with him instead. “I’m here, because of whatever this incident is… what even is going on here?”
Sakura snorted then. “I am accused of being at fault of a clan patient dying, after leaving them unattended – because I apparently wanted them to die, according the words of Senju Hina here,” he said, summing the entirety of the ridiculous situation up. “Hokage-sama is trying to get to the bottom of who is at fault, because I refused to take responsibility for the death of a patient who I had never seen before.”
“Your name is on the paperwork,” Hina hissed, and Sakura felt Madara’s hand find its way into his own. Because she knew he was exercising his ice thin patience when it came to dealing with the irritating fellow medic. The same one who kept stealing the damned credit for his more difficult work, because clanless idiots couldn’t outstrip the Senju Clan’s Medics.
“That’s not Sakura’s handwriting though,” Madara chimed, staring at the two files of paperwork before her. “Neither is that for the matter either,” she continued, tapping the file of the patient he had actually been working on. “But it says here that Senju Hina’s patient was treated in Surgery Room Three…” She chuckled then, and Sakura smirked. “Funny… because earlier I was waiting for Sakura here to finish his shift so I could treat him to lunch, and I found myself waiting outside Surgery Room Three for him.”
“Did anyone see you there?” Tobirama asked, from behind his smaller desk on the other side of the room. “Or are you simply lying to cover his back?”
Sakura felt Madara twitch, irritation pulling at her face as she rounded on the white-haired Senju. “Tobirama-sama,” Sakura spoke then, beating Madara to the punch. “Kindly, keep your personal bias of Madara to yourself.” He turned away then, not wanting to look upon his face a second longer than necessary. Because it made his hands itch to break his jaw. Or his nose. Sakura wasn’t particularly fussy about the exact details. “Senju Haru witnessed Madara waiting there, as did a number of your clan, and should you wish to verify this, then be my guest. Though ideally don’t let Hina-san speak with them beforehand… I wouldn’t want anyone to be suspected of clan bias.” Sakura sucked in a long breath then, figuring he might as well take the plunge. He doubted he would get another chance to speak with their righteous Hokage anytime soon. “On that note, I would also like to raise a complaint with Senju Hina, because whilst I’ve tried before… let’s just say my complaints seemed to get lost, more so after I became acquainted with Madara,” he continued, casting a brief glance at the white-haired object of his suspicions. He wouldn’t put it past him, if he were perfectly honest, but then again the administration system wasn’t the greatest, being in its infancy still. His complaints weren’t the only ones which mysteriously vanished into the veritable pile of paperwork that was the administration office. “She’s taken credit for some of the surgeries I’ve successfully completed, and whilst I wouldn’t mind her indulging that sort of behaviour if she’d actually assisted with them… well, she’s never been in the operating room with me. Really, I feel as though she’s using her name to get away with it as such, because it apparently makes more sense for a Senju – who was on the other side of the hospital on a tea break – to have completed a complex trauma surgery rather than the clanless nobody who was actually in the room.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Madara said, blithely ignoring the apparent mood of the room as she turned to him then. “The clan has finally decided on the wedding date…” She sighed then, a smile curving at her lips. “They seem really desperate to have us married – the sooner the better.” Sakura chuckled at that. “Did you know that my clan call me a hellion behind my back?” she grumbled, and Sakura laughed then.
“No.”
She elbowed him in the side. “Liar,” she muttered, but there was no vehemence behind her words.
“What?” Sakura pouted. “It’s a cute nickname!”
“That, right there,” Madara said, turning on her heel then, “is why you have half the clan wrapped around your finger…”
“Forget half the clan,” Madara muttered, glaring at him as he sat behind the desk. “You’ve got half the damned village wrapped around your finger…”
Sakura grinned then. “What can I say?” he spoke, smiling so innocently – as he had learnt to do from Kakashi all those years ago. “I’m just that lovable.”
Tobirama gagged in the corner of the room.
“Can’t you do something about him?” Madara grumbled, planting herself down in his lap, no doubt enjoying the look of absolute disgust on the white-haired Senju’s face as they cuddled in the Hokage’s office.
“Sadly, personal bias must stay out of office,” Sakura said, fiddling with the ridiculous hat people had decided to force upon him for reasons he still hadn’t quite managed to grasp. The Second Hokage was supposed to be Tobirama – not him. Not that he was complaining. He didn’t trust Tobirama to keep his personal bias of Madara to himself.
“Hn.” Lips brushed against his own then. “Don’t stay too late,” she warned him then, wandering over to the window which had been refitted since practically nobody used the door anymore. “The kids want to see you at dinner.”
“I’ll be there.”