moor

["Pop the Top" on AO3]

Previous Snippets of "Pop the Top" - Finale (You may find bits and pieces, or variations, of these within the fuller chapter below):
[29 Aug 2021]
[23 Feb 2022]
[06 Mar 2022]

Finale:

Part One

Part Two (below)

AN: While this chapter is incomplete, please find the second part of the rough draft of "Pop the Top"'s finale under the cut. There are chronology errors, typos, and other issues (please, please, point them out in the comments--it will help me find them and go back and correct them when I edit the main doc before I post it to AO3). I hope this helps tide you over while I continue working on the official version, though. :)

Due to the character limit on posting, I broke this chapter up. The first part (Part One) is linked above.

Words: Approx. 7,500 || Rating: NC-17 || Finale Part Two
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Madara's first entry was when he was only four years old. It was vocabulary writing practice, often accompanied by simple pictures he had sketched in the margins. He declared the journal was his, and none of his annoying younger brothers were allowed to touch it. (The addition of pictures of said brothers on the next page portrayed them all with wide mouths, crying eyes and squiggly marks with an arrow beside them that read STINKY.)

Sakura laughed until her tears ran dry.

###

The years flew by in Madara’s journals, though Sakura found herself fascinated by each and every entry. He didn’t write every day, but there was always an entry, no matter how cursory, when there were family matters involved. By the time he was six he recounted the babies he met and who their parents were, what his brothers were interested in and what he was teaching them, and who he disliked in their clan and why. The details ranged from very specific to hardly a passing adjective, depending on Madara’s interest or time. The birth of his fourth and final brother was initially summarised in a few words on one day; by the third day it ranted for pages and pages about the crying, the footsteps at all hours of the night, the fact he never saw his parents anymore and now he had to look after all his brothers himself, and did no one understand that he hadn’t asked for another brother? How was he supposed to deal with yet another one? Couldn’t they give it back?

He got said younger brother a bucket full of dug-up beach snails for his first birthday, much to his parents’ dismay and his other brothers’ excitement. Sakura laughed aloud at the thought of Madara being told to make his brother something and then showing up with that.

The entries went on as he started school. Madara was confident from the beginning and out-paced his peers easily. He made a frenemy early by the name of Hashirama. They became rivals in everything. It made Sakura smile.

There was a significant gap of time in the journal at one point that puzzled Sakura. Madara stopped writing completely, left two pages blank, and then started again several months later as if nothing had changed.

It took Sakura reading several weeks’ worth of entries before she realized what had probably caused the silence in his writing. It was never stated outright; but after the gap, Madara wrote only of his three brothers, not four. All mention of his mother disappeared from his writing, too.

Sakura flipped back to the blank pages again, studying them closer. They were old and faded, and she saw now, when she tilted the pages under a lamp, that something had been written there at one time and then erased. The words were lost after so long compressed between covers.

The water stains, however, endured.

###

School, Madara’s rivalry with Hashirama and his family duties continued and expanded over the years as Sakura pored over the pages, increasingly fascinated and understanding of the boy who grew into the man she came to know, more and more intimately. The complaints about his brothers dwindled over the years as they all came into their own personalities, soon forming a band thick as thieves as they followed in Madara’s footsteps, adoring him (according to him, though the descriptions were honest enough in places that Sakura recognized the truth in them). That Madara had at some point taken ownership of his responsibility over his brothers became obvious when he recounted several occasions where he had taken his brothers’ punishment for them, protecting them from their father’s harsh hand or belt.

“Even then, you did it,” murmured Sakura, tracing his childish script on the page, a wistful smile on her lips.

As he got older, Izuna came to follow Madara closely. Sakura learned that Hashirama also had a brother the same age as Izuna, a boy with white hair named Tobirama. He was very intelligent, bossy, and cold, and Madara and Izuna hated him. What goaded Madara most of all was that Tobirama didn’t give a wit about either of them and often insulted his own older brother for being a fool, too—which Madara took up with Tobirama directly, frequently landing them all in detention.
Sakura shook her head, amused. Madara’s warped sense of honour and pride extended to Tobirama’s treatment of Madara’s best friend-rival, it seemed, binding him to defend said rival against his younger brother. Sighing through her smile, Sakura chuckled.
“No one but you were allowed to abuse him, was that it?” she thought aloud. That definitely sounded like Madara, alright.

There were many schoolyard fights during a certain period of Madara’s childhood, Sakura thought, grinning as another ‘great victory’ over Tobirama and Hashirama was recounted in lavish detail. She quickly figured out that the very short ‘victory’ descriptions weren’t victories and bit her tongue at Madara’s hubris.

As the years went on, she could admit that she definitely understood the man better and better with each passing page. She also caught glimpses of the mention of ‘furthering his clan’, ‘becoming a man of worth’ and ‘ensuring that he did not spend time with those who were beneath him, man or woman’. The allusions to the alpha, omega and beta lore were loose at first, but with what Sakura had learned from the previous journals, she recognized lessons passed on from one generation to the next, subtly at first, laying the foundation upon which they would construct layers and layers of rules and expectations.

The one Madara took most seriously was protecting his family above all.

Which was why it hurt all the more when she read of the passing of his next brother, when Madara was ten.

###

By the time Madara was twelve, he had taken on more responsibility for his family and siblings than Sakura had ever imagined; certainly far more than was reasonable. He allowed no one but himself to look after them if his father was away. He looked after their tutoring and reviewed their homework. He supervised their outings if they went to play with friends. He spoke to the family staff if his brothers’ clothes were getting too small or worn, ensured they had new shoes each year for school, inspected their uniforms before they left in the family car each morning to attend their respective private academies. He ensured they practised their instruments, performed their drills for sports, and corrected their manners himself.

You became both parents to them, realised Sakura, the corners of her lips and eyes falling. Her heart hurt for him. What about your childhood, Madara?

It had all but disappeared, as far as she could tell, outside of his escapades with his rival, Hashirama. Only then did she spy the boy clinging to the shadows of the man he was becoming.

It was Hashirama, not Madara’s father, who taught Madara about the birds and the bees. He was sure it was another of Hashirama’s pranks until his father sat him down to explain the details to him as well, later, after he told his father about Hashirama’s ‘twisted ideas’. Madara’s second-hand embarrassment made Sakura’s brows furrow in sympathy. (His previous tirade about Hashirama’s stupid, perverted ideas being nonsense had gone on for several pages earlier.)

There was more. Madara’s father made him swear that he would not court or have intimate relations with a woman without the clan’s permission. Madara, thinking the whole arrangement was ridiculous for someone of his age who didn’t even like girls, agreed readily, his stomach queasy.

Sakura almost skipped the next section of Madara’s journals. She had read through a dozen of his books, and was now firmly entering his pre-teen years. Which should have been warning enough, but in her thrall to understand their author, she stopped thinking about what would logically come next.

Of course Madara was the type to test out new knowledge, however learned.

She slammed that particular volume shut the moment she realised what he was describing and blinked, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

“Did you forget you wrote about this?” snapped Sakura to her empty living room. A part of her, so used to imagining Madara present beside her by that point, suddenly burned with embarrassment. “Or is this you bragging?”

The room was silent.

Why, she lamented. Why did he feel the need to share this with her? With a heavy sigh, she read on, holding the pages with the tips of her fingers.

He had passed out shaking after masturbating to completion the first time. It was in the bathroom. He banged his head in the shower and lied to his father that he slipped.

Apparently he learned from that particular experience, though. The next day he lay on the floor of the bathroom on a towel, so he couldn’t fall again. He installed a lock on his bedroom door. He sat in his closet with the door closed, his feet pressed up against the wall as he held his breath, his body straining, biting into his hand to muffle his moans as he figured out how his body worked with this new magic coursing through his veins.

A hand at her temple, Sakura just stared. He was creative, she’d give him that.
“Is this normal?” wondered Sakura aloud, as Madara detailed his daily routine, including how often he ‘practiced self control exercises’ which was the most double-speak way of confessing he booked at least six separate masturbatory periods into his day at a minimum. Double on weekends. “That can’t be normal,” muttered Sakura.

She paused to search on her phone. Her jaw dropped.

“Are you kidding me?”

Okay, Madara was on the higher end of normal, but apparently not by much… initially. The more she read, the more it clicked in her head that his testosterone must also be skyrocketing around that time because of puberty. No doubt his ‘alpha’-ness was accelerating matters at an unnatural rate. He just decided to buy a ticket and ride the rails to explore it more enthusiastically than…

Sakura couldn’t help shaking her head.

Doubly aware of everything in his surroundings (that could possibly excite him), Madara went on to describe how he found himself especially aroused while riding in certain of his father’s cars. He became an avid connoisseur of luxury cars… for a specific reason. His father’s vintage Jaguar became his fast favourite. Literally.

“Let it rest or you’ll break it off, geez,” muttered Sakura, exasperated. Never had Madara shown so much blatant enthusiasm for anything in his life, until that moment in his journals. Somehow he even convinced his father to let him sit in the car on his own and turn on the engine sometimes, just to ‘listen to it’.

“Your father knew. He must have known. Oh my god…” muttered Sakura.

The frequency increased until he found it painful.
“Must determine how to counteract the negative effects,” he wrote on one page, a cold-pack on his throbbing crotch.
“Let go, you probably have calluses!” cried Sakura, a hand in her hair as she stared at the page in wonder.
Then Madara discovered unscented hand lotion and cheerfully bumped his schedule up again.

Sakura’s head fell into her hands.

“Why… why am I not surprised…”
She eventually did start skipping over a few passages in this section, if only because there were only so many times she could read about his measurements. (He had taped monthly charts on graph paper into the journal. Apparently for posterity. And scientific ‘research’.) He was competitive with himself about his performance.

Sakura just groaned. It was so textbook, cocky Madara…

On she read.

By the time his thirteenth birthday rolled around and a girl or two had caught his eye (or him theirs; his writing made it seem like they idolized him but Sakura was willing to bet a very shiny nickel that wasn’t the full story), Madara requestioned his father about the rules of engagement with the opposite sex.

Wait, what? Wondered Sakura. He hadn’t been interested in girls at all a year before.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. She flipped back a few pages and face-palmed at his sudden babbling after having found a stash of hidden tapes in the back of his father’s closet.

“... you were an absolute menace… what kind of example were you for your brothers?...” despaired Sakura.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, she thought, because at the same time this was happening, Sakura found more frequent, casual mentions of his care for his brothers. He ensured they ate enough, got outside, made friends, looked out for each other. He arranged for doctor’s visits when one of them was ill, and snapped at them when they tried to sneak sweets before they recovered from colds. He washed their laundry personally when they weren’t well and made their beds himself. Sometimes he used his pocket money to buy them treats or games when they were back on their feet again. He also included photographs of his brothers and their achievements, now. Trophies, competitions, contests, high marks on a test: Madara captured almost as many of his brothers’ special moments as his own.

In a particularly vivid entry, Madara enthusiastically described a family vacation where he took his brothers out on a yacht to teach them how to fish. Izuna fell into the water and Madara threw himself overboard to drag him back, yelling at him the entire time to be more careful. He did not say it in so many words, but the descriptions of his racing heart, his stomach bottoming out, forgetting to take off his sunglasses before he leapt from the boat, all convinced Sakura that Madara had been terrified for Izuna’s safety and had acted completely on instinct, like any parent would—but Madara was their brother, not their parent. He had taken on the role of parent, however, and all the related responsibilities. He was still a fledgeling teen, but with the selflessness of any seasoned parent. It didn’t sound like he even considered looking for an adult to help; he literally leapt into action the moment Izuna tripped over the side of the gunwale.

It reminded Sakura of the way Madara had spoken to her about her restlessness growing up as she came into her own instincts. It really did seem like some behaviours were hardwired into them and expressed outwardly before they understood what prompted them.

But Madara’s conversation with his father about girls sparked the beginning of his true education in how to be an alpha Uchiha.

To Madara’s internal humiliation, men and women from his clan were called in to speak with him, teach him about his role, his biological imperative, his duty to the clan.

“Why did they think it was me, though? Was it because I was the first born among my brothers?” Madara had written in the journal Sakura held in her hands as she curled on the couch, her tea forgotten on the coffee table in front of her. “I’ll do it, it’s what I was meant to do. But all this talk of how to ‘prepare a woman’, an omega, to—to take my—my dick and this thing, they called it a ‘knot’—the fuck—it’s bullshit, this doesn’t happen to people—I’m not an animal—and the way I’m supposed to just recognize her, as if we’re soulmates, it’s ridiculous—I’m of half a mind to call Father out. But it wasn’t just Father. It’s some of the elders. How am I supposed to fight that? If they speak another word of this bullshit, I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do. They made it sound so clinical, yet almost magical. Telling me what my body’s going to do to some poor woman, acting like it’s some great ‘gift’. If it’s a gift, why does she need so much ‘preparation’? What if she’s very small? Wouldn’t… wouldn’t that hurt her? I don’t want to hurt anyone. (Tobirama excluded and unrelated.) What should I do?... I’ll have to learn how to control it. I’m not telling the clan when I have a girlfriend, it’s none of their business. I’ll just have to figure out what triggers this gross knot-thing, and how to make it go away. If I do ever meet an omega, though… I’ll tell her the truth. I’ll try and get her to leave me and the clan alone. I may not have a choice, but I want her to be free. This sounds like such a sick arrangement—and there’s supposed to be another alpha involved, too, they said! Like fuck am I sharing my girlfriend with anyone! I’m not even sharing a girl with Hashi, let alone someone else in my clan! That’s bullshit.”

There was a staggering amount of cursing in that particular entry, and the others related to his education in how to recognize his burgeoning instincts, temper them, and use them to his advantage. Her eyes narrowed when she read a particular passage.

“The pheromones thing… I tried it out today. I don’t know if the girls were omegas—they didn’t smell any different from regular girls, and nothing seemed particularly special about them—but I think it worked. They used to blush around me before, or tease me if they were in a group. This time, after kendo practice (they always come watch), I asked them to take off my bogu before I went to shower. Which would normally gross them out, since it stinks and it’s sweaty. This time they fell all over themselves to help. It was crazy. When they started pulling at my gi I turned the pheromones off, and they all calmed down and turned red. I felt… powerful. It’s curious. If I can do this with simple pheromones, I wonder what else I could do? I wonder if I could control them.”

Shaking her head, Sakura rubbed her temple. Thereafter, Madara experimented with his abilities, but never around his family or family’s staff.

Smart enough not to shit where he eats, thought Sakura ruefully. Not bad for a thirteen year old. Or, perhaps it was… Some of the ‘trials’ he ran could have gotten him in serious trouble if he hadn’t kept in mind the risk of the ‘knot’, which he was happy to avoid for the time being. To Sakura’s surprise, Madara spoke with his (for the moment) friend, Hashirama about the situation.

“Hashirama said his family used to have alphas, betas and omegas, but the cycle died out long ago. The stories are passed down to remind them of what they lost and what their mistakes cost them. I believe he was honest with me. More honest than those in my clan. Also, note to self, never use pheromones around Hashirama ever, ever again. And replace the bleach before the maids notice. *shiver*.”

No details were given beyond that, but Sakura would have given a lot to know what happened and why Madara ceased his experiments for a few weeks thereafter. Biting her cheek, Sakura made a tiny note on her Questions list to inquire with Madara should the opportunity ever arise.

His initial forays and exploration dealt with honing his control and power. He did eventually employ compulsion with control, she noted, but rarely for his own gain. In fact, it was only ever to dissuade his younger brothers from engaging in a dangerous prank or discourage their carelessness. They all deferred to him as a second father anyway at that point, but reinforcing their obedience when they went too far became second nature to him. The only person it failed to condition was Izuna; in fact, Izuna challenged him more as time went on.

It came to a head when he and Izuna came to blows in a vicious fight in the woods behind their house one day.

“I held him down by the throat. My own brother. My closest brother. I don’t know what came over me—”

Sakura sighed, already sensing why.

Another fight a few days later was so violent that Madara resorted to using his pheromones to try and calm and control his brother. It had the opposite effect.

“I don’t understand. No one has ever challenged me before when I’ve used them. It’s as if…”

There was another entry that same day, late that night.

“I explained it all to Izuna. I should have realised sooner. The clan came to me initially because it was expected of me. They never considered another would appear so soon. Perhaps they thought the other alpha would be born from that new triad, with the branch member. Supposedly they’re the new ‘main’ branch, but something seems off to me. The elders said they were very happy together, but when I see them, someone always seems strained. It is Fugaku’s second marriage; perhaps he isn’t used to sharing his wife with another, younger man? Kagami is further away on the branch family list. I’m surprised they met at all. For all the elders’ lessons, I don’t think I would be happy sharing my girlfriend or wife with someone else. I… I don’t know what to think, knowing that I may end up sharing someone with my closest brother. But if it’s going to be anyone, I am glad it may be him. And not Hashirama or his shitty brother Tobi. I pity anyone who has to put up with Tobirama.”

Did you ever outgrow that resentment towards Tobirama? Wondered Sakura.

It didn’t sound like it.

###

Their father passed away when Madara was a few months shy of fifteen.

Madara aged a decade overnight.

“I’ve taken over Father’s affairs. The board suggested a regent or trustee, but when I saw Uncle Fugaku’s name, I rejected it. I know he’ll make it more difficult for me every step of the way. I’ve seen how unhappy Mikoto and Kagami are, how they try to hide it. I don’t trust him. Hopefully once their son is born, he will change. Until then, I will take care of the family. It is my duty.”

He was up by four thirty every morning, reviewing business plans, sending e-mail to lawyers and associates, analysing their stock and trade. School became an annoyance, but he argued his way out of trouble when his teachers urged him to delay his rapid ascension to adulthood, that it was too much, too stressful for him. He didn’t have time to waste on their concerns; his only option was to thrive in all aspects of his academics and businesses. It was then that he tapped into his instincts actively.

“I can tell when they’re lying. I can tell when they’re afraid. I can tell when they’re keeping things from me,” he wrote in his sharp script. He wasted few words, as he wasted few minutes, hours or days. Everything rested upon his shoulders.

Then Sakura was back at the pages she had originally encountered in this particular volume, the night she and Sasuke first reviewed the journals.

“Mikoto grieves the loss of Kagami, still. It’s been several months,” he wrote just after turning fifteen. “She tries to save face by caring for Shisui, but a part of her was lost. Fugaku has become terrible. I fear for their child.”

“Mikoto looked ragged today. I know what Fugaku is doing to her. Day and night. I hate that I can smell it. She can barely walk. He is trying to replace Shisui, trying to solidify his union with Mikoto now that Kagami is gone. I established a separate fund for Shisui to protect the inheritance he should have received from his father. The elders told me they would handle it, but I know something is wrong. I can sense it.”

“The elders brought another girl around this afternoon. I was working in Father’s study. They should have known better. They shouldn’t have disturbed me. She smelled different. I think she may have been an omega, but there was nothing special about her to my eye. They left her alone with me and told us to get acquainted. I knew what they were doing. My stomach lurched as she ran her hands through my hair and whispered in my ear. I asked her if she knew what I was or how old I was. She was at least three years older than me, possibly more. She faltered when I asked her what she was there for and she looked away. I dismissed her when she reached between my legs… I threw up in the toilet. I hate their touch. I hate them. I installed another lock on the door.”

“Izuna saw me this afternoon. I told him to go study. Instead he made the kitchens prepare all my favourite foods. He made the maids draw me a bath early, replace all the sheets in my bed, set out my favourite pyjamas and play my favourite music while I soaked. I should have punished him when I saw the magazines, tissues, lotion and garbage bin beside my bed, but I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He thought of everything, even down to… that.” Between the pages was a small scrap of paper with someone else’s handwriting on it.
“Take a load off,” it read.

“He is too cheeky for his own good, sometimes.”

Sakura grinned.

“He kept everyone away from me for several days. I needed it. I didn’t know I needed it, but he did. I found him later. He hugged me. I don’t remember the last time I felt the touch of someone who didn’t want something from me. He actually used his pheromones on me, to calm me. My younger brother, he is something else. I am… lucky.”

“I’ve barely seen Izuna the last few days. I must keep an eye out for him.”

“I think Izuna stole my lotion. Prick.”

“I never thought I would have a more awkward conversation about life than the one I had with my father and elders, but it turns out that trying to explain being an alpha to my youngest brother could indeed be worse. All the questions. How am I supposed to be able to answer some of them? I haven’t… I could ask Hashirama—no, I will never ask him about this. He would never let me forget it.”

“He didn’t ask any more questions. He’s been asking questions daily and today he suddenly stopped.”

“There’s a video missing. Izuna was the only one who couldn’t meet my eyes at supper.”

“Now none of them will meet my eyes. For fuck’s sake.”

“Izuna is handling it. Urk, I should have phrased that better…”

“Thank the gods Mikoto got out in time. Shisui was hurt, but he’ll be okay, according to the doctors. He was always such a happy baby, but he doesn’t smile anymore. He doesn’t speak but he understands everything around him. I’ve never seen such a stolen child before. No one is speaking about it, but they know. The elders said it’s up to me to decide what to do; the triad is broken and all the triad-related assets are already being transferred back to me in my name as the official head of the clan. But I am torn on how to proceed with their fate. If I separate Shisui’s parents, they will both die—and he will bear the curse, too. The madness, the suicide, I’ve read the histories of what happens to fractured packs. What’s worse, it may not be restricted to them, as Mikoto is currently round with Fugaku’s child. Gravid, if I recall the terms the clan midwives used. She should be glowing, excited, anticipating her next child the way she was with Kagami’s baby. It should be a blessing to have a child in a triad. Instead she looks hollow, fearful. Her eyes are lost, her bags carved into her once pretty complexion. I must decide what to do, for I lead the clan. But no matter what I choose, there will be loss. How do I decide another’s fate? How do I make such a decision? What happens if Fugaku reacts the same way with the next child, the one that will be his? How do I protect them all?”

The entries continued similarly for several days before Madara made his decision.

“I separated Shisui from his parents. Mikoto wept. Fugaku did nothing. Shisui… Shisui held onto his mother’s sleeve until she pushed him away. Time will tell if it was the best decision. Until then, I accept that I am a monster. I will never forget the look in Shisui’s eyes…”

“Mikoto delivered a healthy baby boy today. Fugaku is celebrating with the entire clan that night, crowing that he finally has an heir. It’s as if he’s pretending there never was a triad, that Shisui never existed. Izuna stormed out and it took everything in me to drag him home and calm him down. I told him to go check on Shisui instead. He listened. He’s been visiting Shisui often, making sure his foster parents care for him properly. I am grateful to him.”

“I promised my brothers a vacation. We’re heading out by train on Sunday to the winter house. Just for a few days. Izuna asked if we could take Shisui. I am a fool for agreeing.”

“Izuna and Yuuto are up to something. Perhaps they don’t have enough chores. What does it matter whether I prefer walking on the beach or staying in to watch a movie? I don’t have time for that. And what kind of nonsense is this preference for dressing up or wearing jeans? I wear suits unless I’m tuning the Jag; then I wear jeans or shorts, depending on the season. When they asked about candlelight or moonlight, I could have sworn I heard paper rustling, but I think I’m being paranoid. I was on a call with one of our board members and shooed them away, telling them to decide what they thought was best.”

“I am going to beat them both to within an inch of their miserable lives, those underhanded shitheads.”

“Fine. Izuna may not have been a complete shithead. The girl was… not terrible.”

“... I am speaking with the midwives the minute we return home, to educate my idiot, shithead brothers about what the consequences of their actions may resemble in the next nine to ten months if they do not smarten up. I had to speak to both of them tonight about appropriate uses of the barn, its blankets, our guests, and what clothing should remain on their person at all times, and I don’t care how hot it was with the fireplace going, or how deep the snow was, they were a hundred yards from the house, it was hardly insurmountable. Going forward they will either button it up or I will hammer it down while they’re standing and no one will further the family line until I give them permission to remove the nails!”

“The second girl wasn’t so terrible, either. Izuna may get trouser-wearing privileges reinstated sooner than originally intended. (Father, if you’re looking up or down at me from wherever you ended up, stop scowling. It was the only way to stop him from sneaking out to meet with more girls. I’m not becoming an uncle at sixteen—beyond Shisui’s, that is… Wait. Damnit, that’s how Izuna’s been baiting the girls! That unscrupulous—”

“Keeping Shisui with me has had unforeseen consequences. Firstly, I’m behind in the work I was secretly trying to complete while Izuna and Yuuto weren’t paying attention. Secondly, Shisui has picked up on a rather bad habit or two. Fortunately one of the staff was less reluctant than the others about accepting bribery, and now no one need know who Shisui learned to say “stupid shithead” from. For now.”

“Damnit! He keeps crying, “stupid shithead! Stupid shithead!” then looking at me and smiling! The little idiot’s going to give it away!”

“Izuna took Shisui back this morning, along with his own trousers. The day’s saving grace arose when Shisui frowned at Izuna who was trying to change him. He called Izuna a “stupid shithead!”. His tone matched mine perfectly. I had to beat a hasty retreat from the room lest Shisui hear me laughing and take it as encouragement. Izuna told the staff not to serve me dessert at supper. Joke’s on him, they’re more afraid of me than him.”

“The first girl had a very nice visit again this afternoon. I showed her the barn.”

“Izuna has stolen all my trousers and called me a two-faced hypocrite. As if I would ever take my own pants off. She did it. Which reminds me, I still need to return her stockings. I’ll send them over to her in a gift basket with some throat lozenges. Hn, would flowers be too much too soon?”

“Had to give everyone back their pants last night so we could pack for the return trip home. We were all late waking up this morning, in spite of my best efforts, and no one would meet anyone’s eyes at the breakfast table, until Shisui pointed at Izuna’s neck and said, “Owie?”. Then Izuna told me off because I said The Words again, which Shisui immediately repeated, and I think it’s time for us to find a permanent nanny for the little tyke before “stupid shithead!” becomes part of his regular vocabulary. Which will be a shame, because the passion bite on Izuna’s neck clued me in that my brothers had declared shared custody of the barn and were up until the wee hours of the morning saying goodbye to all their girlfriends the night before. Multiple girlfriends each. Of course that was going to leave marks on their hearts. And Izuna’s throat. What else was I supposed to say? I have to set an example… to a degree. Not only that, but they had to learn not to wave their flags under my nose. At least take it out further than the treeline, there were plenty of other outbuildings.”

“... It turned out that we had closed the barn doors after the proverbial horses had escaped. Shisui made a booboo when he affectionately called the new nanny “stupid shithead”. Izuna refused to deal with it even after I doubled my very generous ‘service reward’. He had the gall to tell me to take responsibility for my mistakes instead of bribing others to cover them up. The cheek!”

“Another successful clinical trial indicates that pheromones can assist with the resolution of interpersonal conflict, when used appropriately. We should expect no further issues from the nanny, assuming Shisui keeps his smart mouth shut.”

“Shisui did not. Time for another pheromone clinical trial.”

Sakura set the journal down in her lap and stared at her ceiling. They were boys raising themselves, each other, and a toddler, at the most hormonal time in their lives. They had no guidance. They had no filters. It was a wonder they weren’t feral, if Sakura was being honest with herself.

One thing was clear to Sakura. It made so much more sense now how Shisui had held so much more information about alpha-beta-omega dynamics compared to Itachi. Fugaku and Mikoto didn’t seem to have shared much with Itachi beyond the basics if he didn’t even know they had been part of a previous triad. Perhaps his parents hadn’t known as much as Madara had, what with Madara having the entire clan at his disposal? Or, were they ashamed? Did they feel as unqualified and ill-equipped as Madara thought them? Had Fugaku, the most overbearing of the triad’s members, forbidden them from inquiring further about alphas and omegas out of pride?

If so, no wonder Itachi had been so unprepared that night in Madara’s studio. No wonder Shisui had taken liberties that day at Shisui’s cabin, when Itachi had trusted him. It seemed like neither had been properly tutored in their alpha duties, roles or responsibilities, at least not to the degree Madara had by the clan elders. They had fallen prey to their own instincts and probably relied on second-hand knowledge at best.

Sakura’s lips pressed together at her next thought.

How must Mikoto have felt when Itachi and Shisui became such close friends, growing up? Did Shisui feel anything for Mikoto and Fugaku? Did he remember them as his parents?

Her heart full, Sakura ran a hand through her hair, tugging on it as she inhaled deeply, her patience fraught. None of them could have anticipated things would turn out this way, but she was certain that much heartache could have been avoided, if only…

With a glance at her phone, Sakura saw it was past supper. She reluctantly set the journal aside with a bookmark and headed to the kitchen.

Madara was parent to all of them, with no one he trusted to ask for help. How had he managed the emotional load of it all? How had he coped with it all? The boys protected and raised Shisui as best they could, but how long could it last?

###

Sakura’s heart broke a little for Madara and Izuna as she read that Shisui’s foster family accepted him permanently into their home. No longer would he be visiting them, though Izuna kept regular visits up at Madara’s unspoken request to confirm he was well cared for. Izuna had taken to Shisui and treated him like his own baby brother; at times, almost like his own son.

As Sakura read, she took in the progression Madara made through high school, teaching himself how to drive, guiding Izuna and Yuuto, and declaring his room entirely off-limits to his brothers after his first forays into alcoholism with Hashirama. He dated—and she used the term loosely—but primarily used that time to study others’ behaviour, particularly their behaviour around him whether he made it appear he was paying attention to them or not.

Reading his occasional analysis or critique of a situation, Sakura realised that Madara recognized full well that people treated him differently than others his age, whether it was because he no longer had parents, literally ran his family’s zaibatsu (or pretended he did, according to some), or was so serious and aloof, his attention often directed inward as he figured something out on his own (as he always did; he was so used to it that it was second nature to accomplish everything independently). He relied on no one but himself, and while he never wrote a word of it, his seemingly careless words and occasionally caustic behaviour showed evidence of deep-rooted loneliness; of a young man afraid to let others in. At times, she was sure that he had been severely depressed, operating on auto–pilot like a machine in order to push through and just keep everything in his and his brothers’ lives running.

Then there were the hints of the self-destructive behaviour: the drinking, the drugs, the unhealthy sexual activity if others initiated it with him. He never sought these out during high school, as far as she could tell, but he wouldn’t turn them down on the days he needed something, anything, to lift even a little of the weight off his shoulders. To help him just make it through another day, another night, another week.

Every so often he would mention a test or exam, and it was increasingly obvious to Sakura that Madara was gifted academically. He held himself and his brothers to a high standard, even as he ran on empty, sometimes hurting himself to stay awake and focus if his mind drifted. Every page she read convinced Sakura that Madara saw himself as the only reliable person in his own life.

She wasn’t surprised when occasionally that self-control would snap and he would drink himself blind, or accept whatever one of his peers would offer in terms of casual sexual intimacy.
“It was the only way you proved to yourself you were still living a life, wasn’t it?” murmured Sakura to herself as another party was summarised in terms of names and events. He never let Izuna or Yuuto join him on those nights. He didn’t want anyone to know what he did to forget.

He was nearly kicked off the kendo team for one of said parties, but after Madara collected all the pictures—one way or another—from anyone present, the issue mysteriously went away.

So did the girl who made the claims.

“As if I wouldn’t track down who hired her to spread those lies and take those pictures. Do they take me for a fool?” wrote Madara scathingly. “They’re lucky I was so benevolent.”

He took first place in every kendo tournament he attended until his last day of school, almost in retaliation for the school threatening his reputation.

Madara’s graduation from high school was momentous by the sounds of his clan’s celebrations, though the young man himself barely paid it any mind.

“Wife this, heir that, fuck them all, I have an empire to run, university to study for and Izuna’s homework still to review before supper. And where the Hell has Yuuto gone again? I swear he disappears like a ghost more and more often. Izuna keeps deflecting when I ask about him, so he’s obviously up to something.”

“Yuuto didn’t come home last night. I sent a dozen security guards out to find him, which he didn’t appreciate when they dragged him in this morning. Izuna had to pull me off him. My voice is still strained, as is my patience. I broke four chairs, but Izuna convinced me not to do any more damage and that Yuuto was safe and sound, which was what was most important. I don’t care if Yuuto said he wasn’t “doing anything”. Has he forgotten so soon how it feels to lose a brother…”

“Izuna brought Shisui by today. He made me promise not to use any bad language. Shisui is speaking now in full sentences. He remembers me and liked playing with my hair now that it's longer. It was… good to take a break from work. He reminds me so much of my brothers at that age…”

“University is a waste of time. At least Hashirama is in most of my classes. We’re going out drinking Friday. I can’t remember how he convinced me but apparently it’s all set. I should see if Izuna wants to come… No. He’s studying for his own university entrance exams at the moment. I shouldn’t distract him. Which reminds me, Yuuto’s personal security detail are looking uncomfortable again. For gods’ sake, what did he do this time..”

“I crossed paths with Mikoto this evening. She wore her toddler son, Itachi, in a sling as she walked back from a friend’s home. She looks healthier. She is quieter, more passive than before. Her smile is dimmer, but it is there. I think she still grieves, but she does so privately. Itachi looks strong. He was incredibly alert and peaceful for so young a child. Were any of my brothers so well-tempered?... She let me hold him. He was small and warm. He reminded me of a quieter Shisui. His eyes are considerate and intelligent; he definitely takes after Mikoto. There’s almost no Fugaku in him at all…”

“We took Izuna out drinking with us after his exams. Yuuto wanted to come but I reminded him he was too young. Izuna may be too young, too, but he knows how to handle his liquor already. Yuuto would just drag us down.”

“Yuuto has disappeared again.”

“Saw Shisui today while I was out. He waved at me; I was about to wave back when one of the elders interrupted. I’ll have to remember to… No, I’m too busy. Maybe I can ask Izuna to check on him again sometime soon… after his exams.”

“Fucking Hell, that fucking pest stole the Jag and took out for a joyride. And he ran it into a ditch. Izuna had to pull me off Yuuto and remind me to take him to the hospital. I don’t know what’s going through that idiot shithead’s brain. He knows no one is allowed to touch the Jag but me. No one. Not even Izuna touches the Jag. Father left it to me. It’s… It’s not theirs. I’ve taken the cost of repairs out of Yuuto’s allowance and savings, cancelled his sports practises for six weeks, and told him if I don’t see improvement in his marks he’s in for summer school again, and this time his tutor won’t be pretty or nice. It’s like he’s trying to find ways to antagonise me.”

“Had a night out with Hashirama. I don’t remember much of it. I’m sure the bills will remind me when they roll in…”

“Bills are in. It looks like I have a knack for gambling. Hn. Interesting.”

“Izuna and Yuuto aren’t speaking. I think it’s been going on for days. I didn’t notice at first, with how busy work has been; the merger is coming up on us and Legal have been working overtime to protect all our assets, and between the meetings and my midterms, time got away from me. But at supper, I realised that neither of my brothers spoke to the other. Our table has become even quieter. Izuna is acting fine with me, but there’s a strange tension between him and Yuuto. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Yuuto wanted to come out drinking with me and Izuna. As if his behaviour has shown any hint that he would be responsible enough to join us. I laughed. We left him home and went out.”

“Something is going on at home. The house-staff are hiding something. I’ll see if Izuna can ferret it out; this merger is exhausting. We’re so close, though…”

“Spent the night reviewing schoolwork with Izuna for his exams. He’s been accepted into the university I attend (not that I had any worries, considering the generosity of our family’s donations since Father graduated), but he must outperform that prick Tobirama. Izuna told me he just wanted to sleep. Well, he can sleep once he’s mastered his calculus derivatives…”

TBC