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moorSummary:
The Wild. Long ago, the power that ruled the earth and everything on it created order and meaning, cycles to preserve balance and harmony. The checks and balances put in place ensured that power would never be used beyond equivalent advantage. Over time, the Wild produced Sources, entities through which the Wild could be channelled in times of need. During a battle to defend their Kingdom, the leader of the Uchiha summoned the Wild. In doing so, another channelled and became bound by the Wild to balance his power. This is their story.
Content Warning: A/B/O
Part One - The Senju and the Uchiha
Part Two - The Battle [first battle] | Part Three - The Battle [continued]
Part Four - The Secret [first secret] | Part Five - The Secret [continued] | Part Six - The Secret [continued] | Part Seven - The Secret [continued]
Part Eight - The Underground | Part Nine - The Underground [continued] | Part Ten - The Underground [continued] | Part Eleven - The Underground [continued] | Part Twelve - The Underground [continued] | Part Thirteen - The Underground [continued]
The Underground [continued]
On Yu’s first birthday, Sakura’s new home was overrun with Senju.
At least, that’s how it felt to Itachi, as Jiraiya, Hashirama, Tsunade, Mito, Tobirama, Naruto and Kakashi all gathered to celebrate. They brought gifts of toys and, in Kakashi’s case, play weapons, all of which Yu ignored in favour of playing with the boxes they were delivered in, much to Sakura’s chagrin.
“He loves the gifts, thank you,” assured Sakura apologetically, while Kakashi rubbed her back and chuckled.
“Time for cake?” asked Kakashi, his hand coming to rest on Sakura’s mid-back.
Smiling up at him, Sakura nodded.
Uncomfortable, Sasuke and Itachi hung back, not wanting to interrupt the intimate family event.
When Sakura saw movement out of the corner of her eye for the third time, she shook her head and turned, catching Itachi’s gaze intentionally, surprising him as he froze.
“Go get Sasuke and come join us,” she said, exasperated.
“We don’t mean to—” began Itachi, before he paused, tilting his head to the side. “How did you know we were watching you?”
Sakura arched a brow. “A surgeon spends much of her life bent over operating on patients. We need to know when our back is exposed and we’re potentially vulnerable. I have a sixth sense for when people are watching me.” Then, she smirked. “Plus, I saw your reflection in the glass.”
Filing that information away for later, Itachi nodded and went to get Sasuke.
The group sang happy birthday to Yu before giving him a slice of cake. He dug in with both little hands and buried his face in it, only coming up for air. His long dark hair snuck out of his cap, and while Sakura had tried to tie it back, it was no use; he had frosting all over his face and mashed into his hair. Everyone laughed, delighted with Yu’s enthusiasm.
With Yu enjoying his cake, Sakura and Kakashi served everyone else theirs, too.
The afternoon rolled into early evening, and all too soon their guests prepared to leave, with hugs to Sakura and kisses for Yu (face freshly washed), in Kakashi’s arms.
As Kakashi took Yu up for his bath, Sakura turned to Itachi, catching his eye again and tilting her head to the kitchen. With a subtle nod, he met her there.
“Sakura?” asked Itachi quietly.
But Sakura opened the pantry door, taking out a plate with a large slice of cake on it. She wrapped it all in a clean towel, careful not to touch the sides where the frosting was thick.
She swallowed, then, and took a deep breath.
“Could you please see that this gets to him? Tonight?” she asked, looking at Itachi intently. She bit her lip, her face conflicted before adding, “And… tell him Yu missed him, for his birthday.”
Ignoring how Sakura’s hands shook as she held out the cake to him, Itachi nodded, his eyes dark and gentle as he accepted the cake.
“Ah,” he agreed.
Her sigh of relief had the corners of his lips turning up.
“I’ll leave right away,” said Itachi.
“Thank you, Itachi,” said Sakura quietly. “You’re the only one I trust with this.”
In spite of all the violence, horror and misfortune Itachi was ordered to deliver, the punishments and vengeance and brutality in the name of the Uchiha Underground, this young woman—who had yelled and screamed at him fearlessly—shook when asking him to do something thoughtful and compassionate. Instead of asking him to hurt someone, she asked kindness of him.
Had anyone else ever trusted him with such a personal, wonderful request?
Itachi’s heart melted a bit at Sakura’s trust in him, and his expression softened to one only his immediate family had ever been privy to.
“Thank you,” said Itachi.
With a slight bow to Sakura, Itachi left. He had a very important mission to complete.
***
At the knock on the spy entrance, Madara’s hand froze. He had been bent over his desk for most of the evening, and his wastebasket was full of crumpled paper he would burn the next day. He had struggled with his words for hours. The knock was a welcome relief, though he had not expected company that evening. His eyes narrowed. Few were allowed to use that passage. The knock came again, followed by a personally identifying, tapped code.
Madara straightened, recognizing it immediately.
“Enter,” he called.
Madara straightened and watched his nephew, barely a decade his junior, enter his personal chambers, a package in his hands.
“What’s this?” asked Madara, accepting it from Itachi. It felt like a plate. It didn’t have the heft of a decapitated head (which his nephew had provided on more than one occasion)… But what else…
Madara sniffed. Was it… food?
What was his nephew playing at? Itachi knew he didn’t accept food from anyone beyond his personal staff (and Mikoto). It was a huge show of trust, but Madara knew his nephew would never betray him. It would cost his family their lives.
Itachi did something strange, then. He smiled at Madara impishly, arching a brow.
Madara stared at him.
“Open it,” chided Itachi, waiting.
“What’s gotten into you,” muttered Madara, side-eyeing Itachi. He set the plate down on his desk and unwrapped it carefully, his blood slowed with each revealed corner.
It was a slice of cake.
Birthday cake.
A child’s birthday cake, going by the colourful icing.
Curious, Madara rotated the plate to get a better look at it, then paused as he read the name written in cheerful yellow icing.
“Congratulations on the first birthday of your son, Sire,” said Itachi softly.
Madara struggled to swallow over the invisible lump in his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the plate.
—day Yu!, read the icing.
It was his son’s birthday cake.
“Sakura said to tell you that Yu missed you today.”
“Ah,” acknowledged Madara after a moment, his voice raspy. He kept his back to Itachi, his head bowed, as he stared at the cake.
His son was a year old.
Yu was a year old.
—And Madara had never met him.
Madara’s hands fisted on the surface of his desk.
“Anything else?” asked Madara, trying and failing to clear his throat.
Behind him, Itachi stilled, and Madara hated how transparent he was in front of his nephew. Itachi always saw everything, didn’t he? Including this, Madara’s greatest weakness, failure.
His failure.
His failure as a father.
A father should be at his son’s first birthday. He should have been there.
Once again, Madara didn’t feel like a father.
He hadn’t even known they were having a party.
What kind of father was he?
He wasn’t one. That was the brutal truth of it, wasn’t it?
The ache in him plunged deeper. His claws scraped the desktop, his shoulders slumping.
“Do you have a return message?” asked Itachi quietly from behind him. All teasing had seeped from him as Madara curled further in on himself.
Looking down at the letter he’d been trying to write Sakura and Yu all day, and again failing at, Madara breathed in through his mouth, unable to speak.
He pointed, instead, at a small wrapped parcel by the door. On silent feet, Itachi collected it.
“Anything else?” asked Itachi gently.
Madara shook his head.
With a bow, Itachi turned to leave. The last thing he saw were his uncle Madara’s trembling shoulders as he disappeared behind the tapestry that concealed the spy entrance.
The last thing Itachi heard, as he hurried down the stairs, was the lonely scrape of a fork across a plate.
wonderful
Date: 2022-05-03 11:46 pm (UTC)Re: wonderful
Date: 2022-05-04 03:49 am (UTC)