NARUTO: Tobirama/Sakura - "The Lost Ones" drabble series [Part Four] - #tobisakuweek2023

[moor]

Prompt: Fake Dating

Rating: T, maybe M later
Squicks: Misunderstandings, loss of family, misunderstood intimacy
A/N: The prompt comes into play later; this is just the intro. :)

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

# 
 

Muffling his yawn—he had finals soon and was up all night catching up on missed classes—Madara rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. He couldn’t wait for summer, when he could take a break. He smelled coffee and looked over at Sakura as she tiptoed into the boardroom, very carefully carrying a mug of coffee. His tense jaw relaxed. She wouldn’t spill a drop. She never did.

“Apologies, as I was saying,” said Tsunade. “Rumours have started and we must get ahead of them.”

“Rumours?”

“Sakura has been nominated for multiple Oscars.”

Madara dropped the scalding coffee across his lap.

#
 

Looking down at her pretty rose dress backstage, Sakura twirled the skirt this way and that, smiling to herself beside Tsunade at the Oscars. It was like a fairy tale. She and Madara had practiced singing earlier that week in front of the empty seats at the theater, and now she would sing in front of everyone. It would be just like practice.

But when staff called her name and she walked out under the bright lights, she panicked. Her hands shook as she lifted the microphone. Her eyes filled with tears. There were too many people. Her throat closed.

#

Madara saw her shaking and immediately knew something was wrong.

Ignoring the stage director’s orders, he hopped nimbly between security, down into the orchestra pit—”I’ll be right back,” swinging a guitar over his shoulder—before climbing up on stage and finding Sakura, trembling.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, sitting in front of her. 

She shook her head, terrified. He opened his arms and she leapt into his lap, burying her face in his suit jacket. 

“C’mon, you can do this,” he murmured, rubbing her back. She shook her head again, sniffling.

“I’ll play and you sing, just like at home.”

#

The low audience chatter flowed like a stressful susurration around Madara and Sakura, still on stage. From the wings, Tsunade stared at Sakura, glancing at Madara, but he subtly lifted his palm from Sakura’s back, and Tsunade held her place.

“I’m scared, Madara,” whispered Sakura into Madara’s jacket.

“Am I scary?” asked Madara, pulling back so he could look into her eyes.

She shook her head, sniffling, her eyes wet.

“Then sing for me. I’ll sing with you. Just like in the studio. Just look at me. Can you do that?”

Sakura bit her lip before giving a tiny nod.

#
 

Tobirama frowned. “What happened?”

Hashirama looked up from his phone. “Not sure, there’s a delay. Hold on, it’s back up again.”

And it was; on stage, Sakura held a microphone while sitting in Madara’s lap, his arms around her and the guitar. Then they sang the Power of Love, with no other accompaniment, gazing at each other with happiness and comfort.

Hashirama sniffed.

“It’s so beautiful—”

Tobirama groaned at his brother’s overt emotional meltdown. Again. Tobirama had banned them from watching “The Lost One”, Madara and Sakura’s film, after Hashirama’s last howling breakdown.

… but he could admit, it was magic.
 

#

Madara held Sakura’s hand as they bowed (Sakura curtsied, one little foot behind the other) at the end of the song, the susurration supplanted by thunderous applause. Colour high in her cheeks, Sakura then tugged Madara back to the orchestra pit, pointing. At the audience’s guffaw, Madara apologized to the guitarist and returned his instrument, Sakura hugging his leg when he straightened. The pair held hands all the way back to the wings, where Tsunade checked Sakura over, ensuring she felt secure enough to continue for the rest of the night.

“I can do it,” promised Sakura. “Believe in me.”

#

“And the winner for best actress… is Sakura Haruno-Uchiha!”

Sakura’s iron-clad grip shook Madara’s hand as they carefully ascended the stairs to the dreaded microphone. Sakura swallowed audibly and looked out across the thousands of faces for the second time that night. Kneeling beside her, Madara rubbed her back and handed her a cue card.

“You got this,” he whispered.

She nodded, chin wobbling.

“You’re doing great, Sakura-chan!” shouted Hashirama from the crowd, clapping wildly. “I believe in you!”

Sakura flushed, then grinned. “Thank you, Hashi-Hashi!”

The crowd chuckled.

Confidence renewed, Sakura read her thank-yous.

#

At the end of the night, after a few last interviews, Madara carried Sakura out to the limo. Fast asleep on his shoulder, he curled her into the crook of his neck while Hashirama helped settle Madara’s jacket around her to keep her warm. 

“Thank you,” said Madara quietly.

“Anything for Sakura-chan,” said Hashirama, grinning at them. “She did well.”

“Ah,” agreed Madara tiredly, pride in his eyes and smile.

From beside Hashirama, Tobirama watched the little girl sleep. Perhaps the others were excited for the success that night, but he couldn’t stifle his anxiety for little Sakura-chan.

#

At Hashirama’s insistence, the limo delivered Madara and Sakura home safely first, leaving Hashirama and Tobirama to handle the comedown from the night’s excitement. Silence stretched between the brothers before Hashirama’s smile retreated and he studied Tobirama.

“What is it?” asked Hashirama, breaking the peace.

Tobirama’s frown deepened and he drew his eyes from the darkened windows to find his brother’s gaze appraising him.

“I’m worried,” said Tobirama.

“About?”

Tobirama’s hands flinched on his dark wool-clad thighs. “This isn’t safe. Sakura-chan’s too young for this.”

Instead of laughing him off, as Tobirama expected, Hashirama nodded.

“Ah,” he agreed.

#

TBC