moor

AN: A MadaSaku coming-of-age story based around 1910 in Japan (and later, England), where Madara and Sakura meet as children. Warnings for a parent spanking their unruly child, smoking, dubcon sexual content, sexual content between minors, and mild xenophobia. Based on artwork by

yomi_gaeru as a gift for her after all the wonderful inspiration she has provided over the years!

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen]

The roads and bridges were still unsafe for Sakura to travel by nightfall, so she returned to her room after a short visit with Madara in the living room to listen to music. As much as they both wanted more, they were exhausted from their day and kissed goodnight at the bottom of the stairs, holding each others’ hands until they separated at Sakura’s door. Madara’s expression was tender as he let his fingers trail down Sakura’s as she pulled away to close her door, a flush in her cheeks.

An hour or so later, barefeet whispered down the servants’ corridor behind the bedrooms, their master careful to listen at each sliding pocket door he passed to ensure no one else was awake or about. One door in particular he listened twice as long, knowing the occupant could be up late into the night when the spirit possessed him. But all was silent that night.

He returned down the passageway and stopped outside the pocket that interested him.

With a gentle push, he held his breath and slid the door open.

There, under her covers like the previous night, slept Sakura. Her breathing was deep and even, peaceful in the quiet night.

Swallowing, the intruder approached more confidently than before. His. She was his. He would protect her. She would stay with him. She would only want him. She would only love—

He reached to touch her cheek, to feel the warmth that must emanate from her soft, silky skin—

“Stop.”

Izuna leapt back, whirling on his feet and throwing his arms up in front of him, ready for a fight.

Dead in front of him, still as a wolf, stood Madara in the shadow of an armoire. He leaned against the wall, his feet crossed in front of him. His arms were folded over his chest and he studied Izuna with calculating eyes from beneath his shaggy bang.

Izuna’s heart exploded in his chest with panic.

“What are you doing in—”

“Get out now and I won’t tell Father,” murmured Madara calmly.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” hissed Izuna.

Madara watched him, not missing Izuna’s heaving chest and shaking fists. His laconic glance dismissed Izuna’s protests.

“Hn. Shall we wake Haruno-san up and ask her for her opinion?” asked Madara softly. His arms fell to his sides as he straightened up and approached Sakura. “It’s her room, after all.”

“Stop!” begged Izuna, voice breaking. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to contain his panic.

His arm outstretched, Madara’s palm paused an inch above Sakura’s covered shoulder. His eyes remained firmly on Izuna’s, daring him to continue.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Izuna.

“Stopping a pervert who has taken too many liberties,” said Madara, an icy edge to his voice.

“I’ve never—”

“Get out before you wake her up.”

Izuna’s lips crumpled and heat built in his eyes like fire.

“I hate y—”

Madara’s palm connected with Sakura’s shoulder. Then, his eyes still on Izuna, he caressed Sakura’s arm slowly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

The words in Izuna’s throat choked him when Sakura stirred. He stumbled backwards, hurrying away. He had just made it to the servants’ corridor behind her room when he heard her sleepy voice.

“M’dara? Shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know.”

“Go away,” she yawned, shifting under her covers. “‘M tired.”

Madara’s soft chuckle ghosted in the hallway to Izuna’s avid ears.

“Yes, my Sakura.”

Then Sakura giggled sleepily and Izuna’s stomach dropped out when he understood that Madara had leaned in to kiss Sakura.

“See you in the morning,” whispered Madara.

“Mmmmm, good night, I love you…”
“I love you, too.”

Izuna couldn’t make the air fill his damaged lungs. He couldn’t make his feet move along the polished floor. He couldn’t make his heart beat any longer.

He couldn’t see past the rage that flooded his gaze.

His teeth clenched and salt on his cheeks, Izuna slid down the wall, his chest aching with stabbing pains. No. No no no.

Madara had hurt her. Madara had taken advantage of her. Madara wasn’t good enough for her.

He swallowed, his fists pressed into his stomach.

He would never accept it.

Never.

… and he would make Madara pay.

TBC