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[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven]
At Sixteen [Part Four]
Things settled into a very particular quiet within the Uchiha residence after the incident, unnaturally so.
Sakura continued to visit the Uchiha every two weeks; however a guard would escort her from the kimono shop all the way to the living room where Sakura would sit on the cushions to teach the boys. The guard remained in the room, holding silent vigil by the door for the duration of the lesson. For the boys’ sake, Sakura pretended everything was normal and she didn’t mind, and perhaps the guard wanted to learn English, too, but still had to work? That was probably why he was there, listening. Listening to every word they spoke, English or Japanese. She could tell by how the guard reacted that he understood enough English already to eavesdrop, though.
Madara would still join the lessons, but he never spoke. Sakura wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to risk the guard tattling on him to his father, or whether Madara physically could not. The garish bruise on his jaw lingered for weeks. He lost weight. She wasn’t sure how much he was eating, but she doubted it was enough since his clothes hung looser on his wiry frame with every Friday she visited.
But anytime their gazes would cross, the possessive hunger in his lit heat in hers, and she had to force herself to break eye contact or risk losing her train of thought completely. To the younger boys, she occasionally appeared more distracted, and Sakura would apologize and explain that her work kept her mind too busy.
What Sakura had not anticipated was there being more than one person watching and listening.
###
“Delivery for Haruno Sakura-dono,” announced the young man at the door of the kimono shop.
Sakura tilted her ear and raised her hand from the sales counter where she was planning a new kimono design. The first wave of summer customers had come and gone, so she took the opportunity during the lull to work on her winter designs. The voice was familiar, though. Finishing her sentence she looked up to find Izuna standing at the entrance, dressed in a very well-tailored, European-style suit.
A warm smile broke over Sakura’s face. Izuna’s return smile was polite and dignified, though he couldn’t keep his eyes from shining when he saw her. He removed his hat and nodded to her.
“Uchiha-san, come in! Why are you out running errands?” said Sakura, ushering him into the small sitting room area in the front by the window. The shop was mercifully quiet that day.
Just outside the window Sakura saw several guards stationed around the kimono entrance and further down the street.
“Some new books arrived. Brother asked me to drop them off with you,” said Izuna, setting the parcel on the table. Sure enough, the package had been postmarked from England.
“Oh,” said Sakura softly. Unconsciously she tucked her hands together, looking down at the parcel with yearning.
From his seat at the table, Izuna watched her expression shifting, studying every curve to her lip or arch to her brow. He swallowed at the way her voice caught when she reached out to touch the box with her fingertips, just over his brother’s name. She turned to him again, the colour in her cheeks warm against her fair complexion.
With the sun shining around her, Izuna couldn’t look away.
“That is very thoughtful of him. Please give him my very sincere thanks.”
“Would you like to write him a letter? I can take it back for you,” offered Izuna.
Sakura’s eyes widened hopefully before she frowned with concern.
“I understand that your father is very upset with your brother at the moment. I would not want to bring attention to anything… anything that might upset the peace,” said Sakura carefully. “Though I appreciate your offer. It’s very kind of you.”
“I can tell him a message, if you’d prefer?”
Sakura smiled so fondly at Izuna that his breath hitched in his throat. He cleared his throat to cover it.
“You are a wonderful, kind gentleman, Uchiha-san,” she said quietly. “If I think of anything, I will be sure to share it with you. For now, my thanks for the books… is all I can give.”
Sakura’s smile warmed as her heart swelled.
The way Izuna looked at her, and in that moment, reminded her so much of Madara that her words barely squeezed through her lips. It was as if she were staring at the Madara from two years prior, the more innocent though just as eager one. The one captured in the picture she kept upstairs in the drawer of her nightstand, with every single one of his letters.
She missed him more with every passing day.
Swallowing, Sakura looked away from Izuna and out the window.
“I see you have your own entourage now.”
“Any time one of us is out on our own, we have them.”
Sakura nodded. “I remember your brother with his.”
Izuna’s brow furrowed. “You saw my brother’s guards?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. When he would walk me home in the evenings,” said Sakura. “Or if he came by for lunch, if he was running errands.”
“He came for lunch?”
Sakura nodded. “Though that was some time ago. Have you been to the restaurant around the corner, by the tofu shop?”
Izuna shook his head, the gears in his mind whirring for a different reason.
“If you get the chance, maybe you, your brothers and father can stop by. Their sunomono salad is excellent with crab,” said Sakura, grinning at him.
“Ah,” said Izuna. “Perhaps we could go together.”
The light in Sakura’s eyes softened. “Yes. We’ll have to see if anything’s changed.”
“Change can be very good,” remarked Izuna.
Sakura nodded. “Ah.”
###
“I dropped off the package,” said Izuna.
He leaned against the door to his brother’s room. Madara lay on his bed reading—of all things—a woman’s romance novel.
Izuna shook his head. For all his vaunted genius, sometimes his elder brother was abnormally strange.
“She said thank you very much.”
Madara looked over at Izuna and nodded.
“She didn’t have a reply message.”
Madara lifted a hand in thanks, nodded at his brother again and turned back to his book. A half second later, his eyes flickered red and he hurriedly underlined a passage in the book, halfway down the page. He studied it intently, as if it held the secrets of the universe.
As far as Izuna could tell, his brother had forgotten he was there.
Rolling his eyes the way his father told him not to, Izuna sighed and turned away. He could hear his brother’s pen scritching furiously on the margins of the book all the way back to his room.
###
A few days later when Sakura entered the Uchiha living room, she startled with a small cry. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Haruno-dono?” said Tomo from beside the game board he shared with Koji. “Are you okay? Did you see a spider?”
Staring at the game board, Sakura turned so deathly pale that Izuna leapt up and grabbed her arm. It was fortunate he was so quick as her legs gave way and she collapsed, sliding toward the ground.
Eyes wide, Izuna grabbed Sakura around the waist and held her against him, his heart pounding. He looked at Madara in shock, unsure what to do.
Panic erupted as the boys exclaimed in worry.
Sakura waved their concern off with a wan smile, but her pallor remained.
“Thank you, Uchiha-san,” murmured Sakura gratefully. “I…” Her voice trailed off.
Her eyes were riveted to the boys’ game.
Madara, meanwhile, had surged to his knee on his cushion, reaching for Sakura, before he turned to the guard who quietly tutted at him. The guard held his gaze evenly while Madara’s lips pulled back and he bared his teeth in anger. Furious, Madara’s attention returned to Sakura, where Izuna gently lowered her onto her usual cushion. Koji brought Izuna his cushion, and Izuna settled beside Sakura, his attention focused on her.
“Y-your buttons,” said Sakura faintly, her glassy eyes glued to the game board. “They’re unique. W-where did you find them?”
“Out in the garden!” exclaimed Tomo happily. “Shichi and I found them last year.”
Shichi nodded vigorously. “Yes, when father and his friends were watching the cherry trees blossom.”
Madara froze.
He looked at the game board and his eyes widened to saucers. Unbidden, they rose to meet Sakura’s, flooded with guilt and shame.
“We’ve been playing Tiddly Winks with them. They’re really good for popping off!” said Shichi. “You try!”
“Haruno-dono!” cried Izuna as Sakura covered her mouth again and keeled to the side, trying to muffle her retching. Her slight body bucked awfully as she fought the urge, making it appear all the more violent in spite of her efforts.
The leash on Madara’s obedience snapped.
Madara was across the room and at Sakura’s side before the guard saw him move.
Wasting no more time, Madara dragged Sakura off her cushion and into his lap. Pressing his lips to her temple, he cradled her, tucking her head against his chest as he rocked her.
I should have gone back to get them, thought Madara angrily to himself. I should have tied up all the loose ends to that day. And now to find out my brothers had been playing with them...
But right now, his focus was on Sakura.
“Breathe,” said Madara softly, rubbing her back. “It’s alright.”
His voice—
It was the first time in weeks—no, months, she realized—that Sakura had heard Madara’s low, mature voice. Tears sprang to her eyes. She missed him so much!
“I didn’t know,” whispered Madara against her ear, as quietly as he could. “Breathe, Sak—Haruno-dono.”
Control was harder than Madara anticipated. He wanted nothing more than to abscond with Sakura to his room and cradle her in his arms, in his bed, help her expunge every last bit of this panic and unfortunate memory from her. He knew they wouldn’t have long together. The guard would drag him away any moment.
But she needed him now and he refused to let go.
Making matters worse, his brothers had gathered closer, all trying to pat and console Sakura. Madara breathed deeply to summon his patience. At least they formed a ring that kept the guard out. But he tightened his hold on her and continued to gently sway, brushing his lips against her hair.
She still smelled the same.
In the middle of the emotional tempest, Madara closed his eyes, just for a moment, to focus on Sakura’s perfume and the memories associated with it. The feel and weight of her in his arms. The texture of her hair against his lips.
To most of the boys, it appeared that Madara was looking after Sakura the way he had looked after all of them when they’d been scared or sick. It didn’t even occur to them to call for their father, thankfully. But it was hard for them to understand that she just needed a few minutes of peace. It would pass. Madara knew Sakura was mentally very strong. She just needed to sort things out before she was ready to move on.
However, beside Sakura and Madara, one brother clenched his jaw at the way Madara held Sakura so intimately. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
Needing to insert himself, to reassure her himself, he pushed forward—
“Haruno-dono,” said Izuna, reaching for her.
—only for Madara’s fierce crimson eyes to snap to his younger brother’s face, the threat in them clear.
DO NOT TOUCH WHAT’S MINE.
Izuna froze, for in that split-second he nearly wet himself in terror.
His hands shaking, Izuna reminded himself that was 14, practically an adult, nearly as skilled as his elder brother and possessed of self confidence. He had admired and followed Madara all their lives.
But in that single moment, Izuna was bone-deep afraid of his elder brother… and what could have prompted him to turn on him.
Sakura belonged to all of them, didn’t she? thought Izuna, his thoughts stumbling over each other and heart racing. She was closest in age to Madara, and he’d noticed that Madara was fond of her and she of him, but that’s all it was. They were just closer. That was all…
… wasn’t it?
And their walks home together, at the end of the night if it got late. So what if they'd had more time to talk?
And their lunches together, when Madara would run errands—though why would Madara run errands? Izuna had wondered. That’s why they had staff.
Such small, innocent encounters… Was that really enough time for Madara and Sakura to have become so much more comfortable with each other?
And so what if Madara had gone to see Sakura first when he returned from England? That was years ago. It didn't mean that there was any difference in their relationship compared to how she was with the rest of his brothers… or with him...
Avoiding his brother’s eyes as his thoughts churched, Izuna looked at the game board.
For the first time, he realized the game pieces weren’t generic buttons. They were small and feminine, almost dainty. As if from a woman’s dress or shirt.
Found in the garden.
… But only men lived in their home.
Like setting tar, the truth spread black and oily through Izuna’s veins.
The buttons found the day Sakura got sick and hurried home… without telling anyone.
The buttons found in the garden the day Madara had stumbled inside, drunk and hollow-looking, his clothes and hair dishevelled.
The day after which the staff had whispered amongst themselves of rumours about Madara, and the maids refused to be in the same room with him.
The tar spread further, its fumes poisoning Izuna. It wasn’t just that day with the cherry blossoms. There were more, and the most prominent one rose in his mind, as a harsh, glaringly obvious spotlight was now cast upon it.
Like the day they came home late from the zoo.
The day that awful sound had ripped through their home, and when, instead of running away from it, Sakura bolted through the house towards its source, because that’s where she already knew Madara was, even though she’d met them at the door, Madara nowhere to be seen...
The day that had terrified Izuna, when his father had broken Madara’s jaw and screamed at him, when the rest of them huddled terrified outside the drawing room...
But also, when Sakura and Madara had been home, alone.
For hours.
The day then, and everyday since, that a guard had been posted to each of Sakura and Madara, who prevented them from being in a room alone together, Izuna realized, finally looking at the pair not as individuals, but as a whole. The way they currently clung to each other, understood each other…
… yearned for each other...
But this was the first time, since that day at the zoo, that Sakura and Madara had spoken, let alone touched, remembered Izuna.
How, why, were they still so close?
Perhaps they liked each other more than just a little fondly, but they were behaving like they had been torn apart, like…
The tar coating Izuna hardened like a shell. His breathing came quicker and full understanding solidified inside him.
DO NOT TOUCH WHAT’S MINE.
Sakura may belong to all of them in one way, thought Izuna numbly.
His sharp, dark eyes took in Madara’s protective embrace, his body wrapped around Sakura; her head tucked so naturally into the crook of his neck; her fingers clutched so desperately in his shirt.
Then Izuna’s brows shot upward as he heard the single muffled, loving, guilty word whispered between them that confirmed it all. The word they probably didn’t think he was close enough to have heard. But he did.
“Sak—Haruno-dono.”
Sakura belonged to all of them, didn’t she?
Yes… But she belonged to one brother more than the others.
Everything fell into place for Izuna with that one, single, murmured word. With that one word, he understood that she belonged to one brother in a very particular way:
Carnally… realized Izuna, his mouth dry.
—And that brother did not share what he considered his.