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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] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen]
As the younger boys excitedly washed themselves (and each other) in the large family bathroom, Madara caught his father’s eye and they stepped away. Madara chose a corridor just off to the side, that led to an extensive linen closet. His father followed. Closing the door behind them, Tajima folded his arms across his front.
“I want a security detail for Sakura,” said Madara without preamble. “As soon as possible. Not just for walking her to and from home. I want someone with her at all times, including here.”
Tajima’s brows furrowed. “Here?”
Madara nodded once, his eyes sharpening. “Especially here.”
Lines carved deeper across Tajima’s forehead as he studied his son.
“Has something happened?” he asked evenly.
“Not from me,” Madara said sharply. He inhaled quietly. “I believe Izuna, though… may not understand how to behave like a gentleman around Sakura.”
“Izuna would never—”
“He has. Sakura told me. Last night I caught him in her room. He would have touched her if I hadn’t been there,” growled Madara, fists clenching at his sides.
Tajima’s slate eyes widened and he stared at Madara.
“What were you doing in—”
Then he noticed how deeply this affected his son. Madara’s chest rose and fell and strong emotion flickered through the calm he struggled to maintain. “Because I know he’s been watching her. Waiting for her. You’ve seen how he behaves when she’s around. He’s constantly trying to lure her to him. Last night wasn’t the first time he snuck into her room, either, if I’m right, Father.”
Swearing under his breath, Tajima turned away from his eldest son, his jaw a hard line. He paced for a moment before staring hard at Madara.
“She never spoke to me about any of this,” he said softly, the anger thrumming in the quiet tone. “You’re certain of this?”
They were mindful of the other boys in the next room, their voices never rising above a whisper.
Madara nodded. “She…” It was his turn to take a breath. “She didn’t want to stop coming. She cares for us deeply. She was worried that speaking up would anger you.”
Pain and disbelief radiated through Tajima’s gaze and Madara continued, trying to convince his father once and for all.
“If you don’t believe me, ask Keiko-san. She warned Sakura about Izuna. She confirmed that Izuna even trapped Sakura in the coat room and forced himself on her, earlier this summer.”
“Oh my gods,” whispered Tajima, clenching his eyes shut and rubbing his face. He glanced at his oldest son after a moment through his long, nicotine-stained fingered. “Why? Why did neither of you ever speak up?”
Madara swallowed. His chest rose and fell as he leashed his temper and tried to maintain his composure.
“Because you would have kept us apart,” he said quietly.
Tajima froze, then his shoulders sagged. Inhaling with grave understanding, he nodded. Intelligent, brave, determined Sakura-chan knew well how he ran his household. His son was right.
“Has anything else happened that I should know about?” asked Tajima.
Madara looked away before turning back to his father.
“Sakura believes Izuna took some of her books, the day of the typhoon. She helped Keiko-san clean the other boys’ rooms and they didn’t have them. But Izuna had a fit and screamed at her when he found her and Keiko-san in his room.” He held his father’s gaze. “I think he has them there. And possibly something else relating to Sakura, but I don’t know what.”
“Stay out of his room,” ordered Tajima.
“I have. For now.”
Tajima glared at his son but Madara returned it, unrepentant.
“I will speak with Izuna,” began Tajima diplomatically.
Madara’s eyes narrowed.
“And I will ask him to assist me with my work until Sakura-chan returns home, for the time being,” he added. “But I can’t arrange a security detail for her until the worst of the typhoon-related matters are put to rest.”
Madara opened his mouth to retort but his father lifted a finger.
“So—and understand exactly how much trust I am putting in you, Madara—” he added sharply. “You will escort her everywhere short of her bedchambers. I will also ask Keiko-san to try and work in the areas where you and Sakura-chan sit, to act as an unofficial chaperone to protect her reputation. Keiko-san won’t be able to be there at all times, so I trust that you will use your very best judgement to protect her.”
The severity in his expression easing, Madara nodded. He hadn’t expected such a great concession from his father, or for him to believe him so easily… which meant his father had probably picked up on Izuna’s obsession prior to that night, too, but had dismissed it as puppy love.
“Please also ask Sakura-chan to come see me tomorrow after I send Izuna for lunch. I would like her perspective on this matter. She may have suggestions for managing this so it is more comfortable and safer for her here.”
His jaw relaxing, Madara’s fists unclenched at his sides and he nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else?”
Madara’s brows furrowed slightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Could you please accompany Sakura and I when I return her home to her parents? I would like to formally ask them for her hand.”
Behind his father’s eyes, Madara caught the flicker of emotion but it was gone before he could name it. His father cleared his throat and nodded.
“Of course,” he said gruffly and fondly.
Relieved, Madara lowered his eyes and bowed formally to his sire. “Thank you, Father.”
Through the door they heard the boys climbing into the oversized tub, the water splashing over the side as the younger siblings congratulated each other on such a good job helping each other in. They all cheered when Izuna arrived, though the latter sighed and told them to make sure Tomo kept his head above the water.
“And scrub behind your ears, like Haruno-dono told us, Izu-ni!” called Tomo.
“I know!”
The boys cheered again when Izuna joined them in the water and suggested they race their wooden boats.
Tajima squeezed Madara’s shoulder. It hit the Uchiha patriarch, in that moment, that he was one of the most fortunate men in the world. For all the tragedy his life had wrought, he still had his family, his sons… and the daughter he and his wife had always longed for. A daughter who had brought him and his children together by sharing her strong, caring, determined nature. A daughter who held his sons close when they were scared and helped them cope when they were sad, who encouraged their creativity and had become more than a nanny and tutor; she had become a surrogate mother to them, too.
And in December, Madara intended to announce their engagement to the world.
Swallowing twice, Tajima cleared his throat. Then, to both their surprise, he pulled Madara in for a thorough, man-to-man handshake.
“I’m proud of you, son,” he murmured to Madara.
When he released him, Madara stared at him, wide-eyed and unsure. Then he puffed out his chest and nodded. “You should be.”
His smirk warm and knowing, Tajima coughed into his hand to cover his chuckle.
“We should go check on your brothers. Come on.”
***
Madara needed a man.
The next day, Madara pretended to review the report for the third time as the sun streamed in from the tall windows behind him, warming his back and lighting his work. His father’s man, Tondo, had occasionally ferried financial reports and accounting summaries between him and his father in the past, but now Tondo would visit Madara twice daily to exchange reports and duties.
It worked out well, as sometimes neither Madara nor his father had the time to seek the other out… or, alternately, sometimes neither had the patience to deal with the other’s stubborn pride.
Tondo filled the role of intermediary more than adequately for his father, Madara mused. After all, the tall, broad man had been supporting his father for more than twenty years. Tondo was completely loyal to Tajima to the point where no matter what Tajima told Tondo to do, Tondo did it, no questions asked, regardless of how it would impact him personally or professionally. Tajima may ask Tondo to organise his social calendar, re-schedule a diplomatic or business meeting, relay direction to the house staff, or arrange various conjugals with a mistress. Madara knew his father kept at least two mistresses, though neither were allowed near him, his brothers, or their estate. His father didn’t hide the fact he had several paramours but it wasn’t something they spoke of openly.
After growing up desperate for his father’s rare tales of hijinks and misadventure with Haruno Kizashi, Madara had wondered that his father never asked Kizashi to be his right hand. Subsequent to meeting Sakura, though, gradually Madara understood why. Kizashi was an honourable, kind, generous, loving man, principled and friendly. He saw the world in shades of colour and light. He probably still believed Tajima did, too, to some extent. The man possessed not a mean bone in his entire body and loved his life and family with everything in him.
Tajima would never take those things away from his best friend. Were Tajima to ask Kizashi, Madara understood that Sakura’s father likely would acquiesce; but also that Tajima would never be able to forgive himself if Kizashi walked away from his family. Though, Madara smiled to himself, knowing Sakura, she would have snuck along as ‘back up’ to help her father. In another time, Madara easily imagined Sakura being a ninja or samurai, someone loyal to the marrow of her bones to the people and village who raised her. Someone who would never give up. Someone who would become stronger so as to not only never be their burden, but to be the one who would save them, in turn. She would do it willingly. She would do it well. She would do it against all reason, to protect those she loved.
That was his Sakura.
Devoting oneself to Uchiha Tajima would cost a man everything, potentially, and that was why Tajima would never ask it of Kizashi. He suspected his father also held a healthy amount of respect—or fear—for Haruno Mebuki. (The thought brought a rueful smirk to Madara’s lips and he shook his head.)
Now that Madara was a man, he too should hire his own man. Someone devoted to him and him alone… But also, mused Madara, someone to protect Sakura. Someone with no link to his family, lest they be swayed by another seeking to profit from his demise.
Someone who, perhaps…
An idea took form in Madara’s mind and he slid a spare paper on top of his report and continued making notes, but not about his father’s business; about his own.
***
On the third day, Tajima allowed his children outdoors with a chaperone. The youngest boys cheered and a harried Tajima sighed as they rushed outside like a troop of little elephants, Sakura and Madara behind them. Indoors, Izuna assisted his father with paperwork.
The winds blustered around them but only enough to tug at their jackets and hair. The boys ran to one of the larger open spaces of the east lawns and began collecting sticks, occasionally play-fighting with them.
“Are they safe?”
“Safe enough,” said Madara to Sakura as they paced the boys more sedately. When they cleared the reach of the windows, Madara slipped his hand around Sakura’s and kept walking.
“Where are we going?”
“Wherever they lead, as long as we get away from prying eyes for a few hours.”
Sakura grinned at Madara, her eyes shining at his tired voice.
“Did you not sleep well last night?”
“I could have slept better,” he replied, turning to her. The corners of his lips curled, just like his voice coiled something hot and tight inside her. “You?”
Unable to hide her own smirk as his lips captivated her, she shook her head. “I slept soundly.”
Their gazes held for a beat, then two.
Unconsciously their pace slowed as the heat built between them. Madara swallowed when Sakura’s tongue peeked between her lips, wetting them. His gaze flickered to her lips and he tugged her closer, leaning in—
“‘Dara-ni! Look! It took all three of us to lift it!” called Koji excitedly.
Sakura pressed her lips together tightly to hide her grin when Madara hissed a curse under his breath, tucking his head into the crook of her neck to hide his flushed cheeks. Squeezing his hand in understanding, she nodded at the boys. “Mind yourselves!”
Meanwhile, Madara glared at his younger siblings over his shoulder.
“Be careful, that’s a very heavy branch,” he said sternly.
“D’you see how big it is!”
“Yes,” replied Madara. “You’re getting strong. You’ll be able to lift Izuna one of these days.”
Oh no, thought Sakura. Now he’d done it.
Her face hurt from the laugh she withheld at his subtle manipulation of his younger siblings, and she cleared her throat so she wouldn’t give away Madara’s new game.
His fleeting, wolfish grin at her as they followed his younger brothers further into the yard confirmed Sakura’s suspicions. He’d recruited them intentionally.
“Lift Izuna-ni? You think so!”
“Of course. You’ll have to practise, though.”
“Madara,” hissed Sakura, but his sharp eyes had narrowed and grin stretched enough that he bared his teeth.
“You may need to surprise him,” added Madara, ignoring Sakura’s chastising glare.
She sighed as they followed the boys who whooped and yelled in excitement, huddling together to whisper plans on how they intended to ambush their older brother and deadlift him.
“You’re going to get in trouble. They’re going to tell on you when he gets mad at you,” murmured Sakura under her breath. She leaned closer, speaking directly into Madara’s ear. “Don’t push it.”
Quick as a wink, Madara turned his head and stole a kiss, the lightest peck on her lips, before innocently continuing on. “He has to catch me first,” said Madara smugly. His eyes shone as he glanced at Sakura, her cheeks burning.
So this was his strategy, mused Sakura to herself as they trailed after the younger boys. Her anxiety clutched at her heart at everything that could go wrong if they provoked Izuna too far. Swallowing, she turned her attention back to the wreckage-strewn yard. She would need her wits about her if she was going to avoid a misstep as the wind buffeted her this way and that.
Beside her, holding her close, Madara scanned their surroundings, attentive to the potential for danger.
***
That night, as the younger boys changed into their pyjamas, Izuna paused outside his father’s room as he heard low voices from inside.
“The bridges were inspected and are safe to cross. Sakura-chan must return home tomorrow.”
“Is her home safe? We could invite her family here—”
“They run a business, Madara. I’m sure they would appreciate the gesture, but they employ a staff and are responsible for them. It would also reflect as charity, which would not do.” Their father sighed. “We are all very fortunate that neither of our families was hurt, but we also cannot selfishly keep her here. Her family have been very worried.”
His ear to the door, Izuna frowned. He’d been so busy helping his father that day, he’d only seen Haruno-dono at mealtimes, and even then, he’d had to share her with his siblings. His jaw tensed. He was running out of time.
“Will you accompany us when I walk her home?”
“You’ve thought it over and want to continue?”
“Of course, why would I change my mind about this?” quipped Madara stubbornly.
To Izuna’s surprise, instead of admonishing Madara for his rudeness, their father chuckled.
“You’ve prepared a suitable gift?”
“It’s been ready for years. There’s never been a doubt in my mind.”
Izuna’s heart sank. No. No, it was too soon! He would never be able to save Haruno-dono if his father and brother were already buying her from her family! It was heinous! They were supposed to be a modern family in modern times! How could they—!
“We can set out once your brothers are up and Izuna can mind them. Be ready… and ensure that you’ve spoken with Sakura-chan, so she isn’t surprised. It wouldn’t do.”
“Midnight?”
Their father huffed at Madara. “Making demands?”
“Reasonable negotiation.”
“Midnight and not a minute later. I mean it, Madara. I’m tired.”
“You don’t need to stay up late for us,” he offered.
“I do,” said their father in a no-nonsense tone. “It’s one more night. Don’t upset the balance.”
“You won’t have to stay up for us much longer,” added Madara. “Not once her family agree.”
Their father sighed heavily. “I know.”
The conversation waned and Izuna’s brows furrowed. Her family? Agree? They really were selling their daughter?
Footsteps shuffled and bedsheets rustled against each other.
“Madara…”
“Yes?”
“... There’s no rush for an heir. Enjoy your time together while you have it, without the demands of parenthood. The family will push, and you’ll be required to listen, but in this… enjoy the precious time the two of you will have, alone, as long as you can… Be… careful.”
“Ah.”
The simple contentment in his older brother’s voice shook Izuna. His stomach bottomed out.
No.
This was terrible.
They couldn’t do this to Haruno-dono! She wasn’t a broodmare for his brother! She was a person! She should get a say in this, too!
He had to warn her—
A single, light set of footsteps approached the door and Izuna disappeared down the hall. He only had one night left.
His fists clenching, he headed to the servants’ corridors and slipped into his room undetected. He arranged his covers to look like he slept in the bed, darkened his lamp, collected a small package from under his bed, and then exited into the servants’ halls once more with nary a whisper.
To anyone who checked on him, it would appear as if he’d never left.
But he would leave it all behind, for her. He’d promised to protect her and he would.
***
Sakura gasped into Madara’s mouth as he pressed her into the cushions of the settee, arching into him. The music rose around them, the doors opened to muffle the sound of the couple kissing passionately just a few feet away.
“We need… need… to… mmmm…”
“I only have you for one more night,” growled Madara. He kissed down the slope of her exposed shoulder, unfastening several more buttons leading down the front of her nightdress as he straddled her. “‘Need to touch you before you’re gone.”
“I’m not leaving forever,” argued Sakura.
Madara lifted her legs up around his waist and lowered himself down onto her, kissing and moving against her with intention.
“You shouldn’t have to leave at all,” he mumbled, grazing his teeth against her throat and sending her gasping and arching up into him. “You should be here, with me.”
She ran her nails through his hair and down his scalp and he purred, closing his eyes.
“You must learn to share. I fully intend to keep working,” said Sakura firmly. At Madara’s pouty growl, she sighed. “And we will be together… soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
“You are such a spoiled, rich boy sometimes,” said Sakura, before kissing his nose.
“Man.”
Sakura bit her lip as Madara couldn’t quite hide the sulk to his voice.
“Young man,” she amended, stroking his lovely, dark hair.
“Hn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I would rather be in you.”
Sakura’s head flopped down onto the cushioned armrest, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, cradling him to her heart. “...’dara…”
He sighed, lowering his full weight upon her and resting his head in the crook of her shoulder.
“It’s so right. I understand why the clan would be reluctant… but we’ve all known that time was a formality. I want it all now. I want you, now..”
“I know,” murmured Sakura, wistful. “I do, too. I wish things were different. Even so, we must play by their rules. They protect us all. Remember your promise.”
“Hn.”
“Please, ‘dara. You’re part of me. A part of me that will never be given, loaned to or shared with anyone else. It’s just a little bit longer, and then we’ll have everything. Don’t you want to have something left to look forward to?”
Madara buried his face in her chest and rubbed against her like a cat.
“Like this?” his cheeky, muffled voice asked.
“If you weren’t so rich and handsome, I swear,” muttered Sakura, but she fondly stroked his hair, holding him to her heart. She closed her eyes. “I’m so lucky to have you, Madara.”
Ceasing in his frottage, Madara tilted his head up until he could just make out the serene, loving smile on Sakura’s lips. He pulled loose and rose up on his forearms to gaze down at her, his expression softening as she opened her eyes to return his adoration.
“I’m the lucky one. It’s you. It’s always been you. It will only ever be you… You’re mine, Uchiha Sakura.”
Sakura’s cheeks heated at the possession in Madara’s voice and eyes, her breath catching in her throat.
“Yours,” she whispered hoarsely when he closed the distance between them.
He nodded, brushing a loose tendril of hair from her face.
“Forever,” he added softly.
She smiled. “Ever yours.”
Their lips met in a gentle promise that turned more passionate by the second, until Madara slipped his fingers beneath Sakura’s night dress, stroking her intimately, growling as she grasped him through his pyjama bottoms and returned the favour exactly how he liked.
They came together in a chorus of pleasured sighs, their hearts racing and chests panting.
Across the room, through the peephole in the wall that led through to the servants’ halls, Izuna’s teeth drew blood from the fist he’d shoved in his mouth to conceal his muffled grunts. His shaking knees gave out and he slid quietly down the wall that had been supporting him as he watched his brother and Haruno-dono… do… things. Things he thought only husbands and wives did. Things only those paid by their customers and masters did…
Things he had hoped against hope that his brother wouldn’t force upon Haruno-dono, but there was the evidence, right in front of him. With the music playing, he hadn’t heard their words, but he’d seen his brother pushing her down on her back, scrambling to open her clothes, dragging his teeth down her, her… and his hands in—
—in—
—inside… her…
Tears ran down his cheeks. He’d failed her.
He had to do something. Tonight. He’d wanted to warn her, before Madara arrived, but they had come into the living room together and Madara hadn’t left her for even a second.
He swallowed, lightheaded, and looked down at himself, ashamed. His once-tented pyjama bottoms now clung to his lower body.
He… was he any better than his brother?
He had embarrassed himself. He would only sicken her, as he was.
Pushing himself up from the floor and gingerly approaching the peephole again, they lay together on the settee, embracing each other and whispering words he couldn’t hear.
Jealousy stabbed through him so suddenly he lurched to the side and had to catch himself on the wall, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable way his clothing stuck to his skin.
How… how dare she act so passive? How dare she surrender to his brother so easily?
Forcing his shoulders back, Izuna straightened and padded from the corridor to wash up again in one of the far restrooms so as not to alert the rest of the family of his restlessness.
His plans had changed.
No longer would he warn her.
No. It was too late for that.
Instead, he would show her.
***
On silent feet, Madara slid open the servant's passage door and peeked into Izuna's room.
His dread eased when he saw the lump beneath the bedcovers.
His shoulders relaxed, he slid the door closed behind him and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be one of the most important days of his life and he wanted it to be perfect.
***
Sakura’s covers curled around her warm cheeks as she slumbered in her guest room, sated and exhausted from the long day and intimate evening.
She didn’t stir when the pocket door of her room connecting to the staff corridor swished open on silent rails; the rails someone had oiled while the rest of the house played outside in the yard that afternoon.
“Haruno-do…Sakura-san?”
Sakura’s eyes fluttered but she didn’t move.
The mattress sunk down beside, then behind her. A chill slivered inside as the comforter was lifted from her shoulder before warmth replaced it, pressed against her back.
The top three mother-of-pearl buttons on her nightdress were unfastened with tender care, the collar opened wide at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Then smooth lips latched onto the pale, delicate skin of her throat and Sakura moaned in her sleep with drowsy arousal, her legs shifting restlessly as the pressure took hold. Her throat had always been her weak point.
—He knew.
He’d read all about it in the margins of his brother’s books.
With nimble fingers he unfastened several more pieces of mother-of-pearl further down her front before cautiously slipping beneath its cotton layer to touch the warm skin underneath. Her stomach was so soft he swallowed in awe, closing his eyes and sucking harder at her throat when he finally got to touch her with his bare palm. She whimpered in her sleep and he clutched her closer, unable to completely muffle his excited moan.
His adrenaline had never run higher as the forbidden became his, that night.
As the slow, heady rush built in him while he explored her a touch at a time, he imagined her dismissing his older brother, turning to him, kissing him, wrapping her legs around—his teeth bit down on her skin and she flinched, her breath catching—and her gasp sent him spiralling mindlessly, shuddering against her as he moaned her name. The mess in his pyjamas earlier that night was nothing compared to what he painted across her skin in her bed while she slept, soft and warm against his naked body.
His heart leapt in his throat as his sticky fingertip traced over her hip, along the edge of her panties… dipped an inch beneath their hem…
If Madara touched her there, then surely he could…
The temptation was so great that his wrist shook with eagerness.
His breath caught, his eyes wide, his bottom lip caught between his teeth—
He buried his face in her hair to stifle his moan.
They would never be able to push him away, now. They would never be able to hide this. He had accomplished something his brother couldn’t: he had branded her as his and stained her sheets with his love, drawing a heart over her womb with his seed.
He relished in the knowledge that he had done something that others would see; that his beloved, idolised, paragon of an older brother would see.
That everyone would see and understand.
Overcome, he held her to him as he panted, tremors wracked him and his triumph rushed through him like a powerful coastal tide. Only when his shivers calmed could he find himself again. Only once they stopped was he able to catch his breath in victory. It was better than he’d ever imagined; would no doubt only improve when she turned to him on her own, seeking him, instead of rolling as he had carefully shifted her, so he could stare into her beautiful sleeping face. Someday, she would look upon him with love in her eyes. Not tonight, but someday. She had to. He had made her his.
When sleep pulled him dangerously close in its embrace, he reluctantly shifted away from Sakura and dressed again. Tucking her in, Izuna kissed her temple and disappeared into the hall once more, closing the door behind him.
That night, he’d proven that Sakura-san was theirs.
—not Madara’s.
***
Brimming with energy, Madara woke early the next morning.
Finally, he would be able to formally ask Sakura’s family for her hand. He’d readied the gift months ago; some of it, like the alcohol, he’d kept since his trip to England. He’d been saving it for a special occasion.
He couldn’t think of a day more special than this.
His hair and teeth brushed, his best suit buttoned, his hat in hand, his cheeks glowing with the smile he couldn’t contain, Madara checked himself in the full-length cheval mirror beside his walk-in closet. There wasn’t a mark or misplaced hair anywhere.
For a split-second, his heart skipped in his chest.
What if they refused? What if they thought he wasn’t good enough? What if… What if Sakura changed her mind?
“Ever yours,” she’d breathed in his ear last night.
Exhaling long and slowly, Madara shoved down the jitters that swarmed like butterflies in his stomach.
No.
Nothing would go wrong.
He’d followed all his father’s rules. Every one. Sakura had been back in her room every evening by midnight, and he’d never left a single mark on her (much as he would have liked to).
Picking up the hand-carved crate he had carefully wrapped himself, Madara took a deep breath, opened his bedroom door, and stepped outside—
—only to meet his father’s furious eyes and swinging fist, knocking him back, the crate flung to the hardwood floor, the contents smashing inside.
“What have you DONE?” roared Tajima.
Reeling, Madara unconsciously raised a hand to his throbbing jaw as a puddle formed around him, soaking into his fine clothing. He tried and failed to get his bearings as his brain rattled in his skull. Panting in confusion and fear, Madara could only stare at his father. Over his father’s shoulder, he caught sight of Sakura’s green eyes and tried to read any hint of what had happened from her expression.
—which was when he realised her eyes were sunken and red from tears. She clutched her nightdress to her middle and sniffled, shaking her head.
“It—It wasn’t him! It could never be him!” she begged. “Please, please stop!”
“I warned you,” snapped Tajima, looming over Madara and shaking a finger in his face. “I trusted you!”
Terrified, Madara looked between his father and Sakura… and finally noticed the bruising around her throat. His eyes narrowed as he realised there was a gap in her nightdress, where several of its buttons were missing.
“What do you have to say for yourself!” demanded Tajima, reeling back to strike his son again.
“Stop! Please!” shouted Sakura, grabbing his fist and yanking him back. “Please! It wasn’t Madara-san! I swear!”
“It wasn’t me,” Madara finally gasped, getting to his knees and then his feet. Anger built in him as he rushed to Sakura but his father shoved him back.
Baring his teeth, Madara glared at his father. “Someone did this to her!”
“You expect me to believe it wasn’t you?”
“I warned you! I told you she needed a security detail!” screamed Madara. “This isn’t my fault! I didn’t do this!”
“You have before—”
“I was going to ask her parents today for their blessing! I would never do this to her!”
This time he did get past his father and grabbed Sakura, holding her to him as if she were his anchor in a storm.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I thought…”
Sakura buried her face in his shoulder and shook her head. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly he could barely breathe. Pained, Madara could only clutch her tighter.
“You’ll be lucky if you can walk after the paddling I’m going to give you—”
“It really wasn’t him,” spoke up a new voice.
The assembled group froze in the hallway. Slowly they turned to see who had arrived on the terrible scene.
“You,” breathed Madara, and the loathing in his tone swore retribution in blood.
It hit him all at once and he faced his defiant younger brother. His arms tightened around Sakura.
Tajima turned, too, to find Izuna watching them, calm and relaxed.
“Sakura-san isn’t his. She’s all of ours,” said Izuna.
He stepped closer but Madara turned Sakura to his side, shielding her.
“Haruno-dono to you!” shouted Madara, teeth bared. “You rapist!”
“I didn’t rape her,” said Izuna. He had the gall to shrug. “I would never do that. I’m helping her.”
“Helping… me?” choked Sakura, lifting her horrified face from Madara’s shoulder. Her eyes hardened and nails curled into talons. “Helping me!”
“Yes. Didn’t you hear the staff arriving earlier this morning?” said Izuna, approaching and reaching for Sakura.
Madara shoved her behind him, his lips pale and expression focused unyieldingly on his brother.
“At least half of them have heard this row. Your reputation is ruined. Now you can’t be his wife. He can’t force you to do anything, anymore. You have freedom to choose who you want to marry!”
“I am marrying him! I choose him! I have always chosen him!” stormed Sakura, shaking with anger. “I will always choose Madara! How dare you interfere?”
“Sakura,” said Madara, now trying to hold her back. His eyes widened as she pushed forward anyway, and he held on tighter as she leapt at Izuna. “Sakura!”
“You did this to me!” she shouted, tugging on her nightdress. “You fucking pervert!”
Izuna swallowed but stood taller, his eyes cooling.
Sakura didn’t give up. “Admit it!”
“Izuna,” said Tajima, looking between the young adults, the shock fading from his face. His voice lowered incredulously. “Is this true? Did you… touch… Haruno-dono? While she slept? In my house?”
A muscle ticked in Izuna’s jaw and his gaze flitted to his father’s before settling on Sakura again. “Yes.”
“I’m going to kill you,” breathed Madara, stepping forward, still restraining Sakura.
“Me first,” said Sakura, struggling to escape his grip.
“Stop it, all of you!” thundered Tajima so loud that the nearby window rattled in its casing.
They turned to look at Tajima and his purpling face and shaking fists.
He glared at his sons and swallowed before turning to Sakura. The tension between them was palpable. Tajima reached a hand toward her but Sakura retreated instinctively into Madara, her eyes blazing and jaw clenched; her fists had risen at her sides.
His shoulders twitching, Tajima lifted a hand to his face and closed his eyes. A full minute later, his soft voice spoke. “Please wait for me in your room. I will join you shortly with Keiko-san.”
For a moment, Madara wondered if his future wife was about to re-arrange his father’s face. The thought bewildered and excited him in equal measure. She was the most terrifyingly wonderful creature on earth, so strong, fierce and beautiful. The way she had defended him… she’d been so passionate, so genuine, so completely determined.
Alas, Sakura did not strike back at his father, nor raise her hand as she was due. Squaring her shoulders, she glared at Izuna again before bowing curtly to Tajima, straightening her back, and returning to her room without another word.
Her patience and grace would only last so long, however, and Madara began counting down to the moment she would explode like a mine blast, decimating her surroundings (Izuna, hopefully).
Speaking of, their father had turned to his second son.
“Go pack your bag,” he instructed Izuna with lethal calm. “You have one hour.”
The world stopped spinning for Madara. He blinked.
What?
His father couldn’t be serious.
Where was the police? Where was the punch that would send Izuna reeling? Where was the bloodshed, the pound of flesh Izuna’s disgusting actions deserved?
Betrayal seeped through Madara’s skin and into his circulatory system, pulsing with the burning of his heart’s anger, crying out on Sakura’s behalf.
“Pack?” repeated Madara, looking at his father. “You want him to pack?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” declared Izuna, chin lifted.
“You’re going to stay with your mother’s family until I can control myself around you enough not to snap your neck,” said Tajima softly. “And I recommend you do so as quickly as possible, then write a full, formal apology to both Haruno-dono and your brother for attempting to ruin their lives out of spoiled, petty jealousy.”
His expression darkening, Izuna turned on Madara. “It’s your fault. You didn’t protect her—”
“He should never have had to protect her against his own brother!” roared Tajima, seizing Izuna by the front of his pyjama top and shaking him. He backhanded Izuna’s cheek so hard that Izuna’s head whipped around like a doll’s. A trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth and dripped to the floor. “You have disgraced us, all of us! Now pack and see yourself to the front foyer while I telephone your aunt. If I catch you within ten yards of Haruno-dono’s room before I see you off, so help me, I’ll beg your mother for her forgiveness when we next meet.”
Tajima shoved his son away from him in disgust. Landing on his hands and knees, Izuna’s wide eyes were white around their tiny pupils. He trembled, more blood spilling down his chin.
“B-but, I was h-helping—” he began in a small voice, his throat working over the words. “She doesn’t belong to him, she belongs to all of us—it was my turn—I love her, too—I had to show her—can’t you make her both of ours? How much would her family want, if we made an offer for her—I marked her, she’s mine now, too—didn’t you see?”
It was a close thing, next, as Tajima’s furious face spun to face his, his nostrils flared and his leg reared back—
“You—” he began.
“Izuna!” cried Madara, already moving.
—as Madara dove for his little brother to shove him out of the way—
—as their father’s foot connected with Madara’s ribs and Madara flipped over and went down, gasping and clutching at the hardwood, its surface slick with pooling alcohol and splattered with blood.
“Madara-ni!”
“No, Madara! Son!”
His brother and father called for him simultaneously, but it was all Madara could do to try and inhale. It wasn’t working. The air wouldn’t come but the pain exploded through him, as if someone had thrown a mortar directly into his chest cavity. He coughed wetly.
On his knees, Izuna reached for him but Madara was too angry.
“Get… away… from me…” gasped Madara, smacking his brother’s hand away. “Leave!”
His hands inches from his saviour’s prone form, Izuna glanced between Madara and his still-heaving, vengeant father. Without another word, he scurried backward and ran to his room, locking the door behind him.
At the slamming of the door, Madara’s eyes rolled up and he collapsed to the ground.
TBC
Always Breaking Hearts!
Date: 2023-07-29 06:33 pm (UTC)I like to head cannon that Madara would have turned out happy and successful if he had his own Sakura or person outside his clan that didn't view him as a controlled asset. But here, looks like he is destined to have some level of unhappiness.
And poor Sakura. Earlier when Madara was forceful and Sakura was unprepared for him and fearful of her voice being unheard was already a concern, that that may come back in a bad way. But Izuna taking advantage of her while she slept is just... Urg. Poor girl, can't catch a break. Here's hoping that Izuna didn't catch her the week before ovulation so she doesn't end up preggers.
Anyways! /Rant? /Tangent?
Excellent work, read like a story polished. The meticulous details of their relationship (outside horny young attraction) is definitely sweet.
Thanks for your time and effort! Can't wait for the next installment!
Re: Always Breaking Hearts!
Date: 2023-08-01 02:51 am (UTC)There is happiness coming for our lovely pair, and much of it; there are just 2-3 more little hurdles for them to overcome first. ;)
Thank you so much for reading
no subject
Date: 2023-08-03 11:21 pm (UTC)Dearest Moor. It is currently 1:56 a.m and I am in pure shock. Just wow. Holy hell.
IS IZUNA BEING SERIOUS? Is he experiencing psychosis or something? What the hell does "It's my turn now" mean??? YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH. I would have gagged if my jaw wasn't halfway on the floor. He must be out of his mind with that fever dream narration of his assult of Sakura. Holy fuck I'm speechless. Even though he was annoying me soooo heavily all throughout this story I never would have thought him capable of going this far. Poor Sakura.
And poor Madara taking the brunt of his father's fury when he's already so worried for Sakura and angry on her behalf and his own. I was so proud of him for trying to act so grown, putting on his best suit, probably combing his wild hair for longer than he has ever had only to have his betrothal delayed yet again. And getting punched into next Thursday. Ouch.
I'm so glad Sakura is angry and confrontational. I was worried for her as in this story she is so proper and ladylike. I'm glad she's not blaming herself at all. Hope she gets in a solid punch before the show's over. The little creep deserves it. And her reputation? I would quote young master himself on that one. "You don't need a reputation, I will marry you." <3 Still, praying that they get their happy ending after the upcoming struggles, I don't think I've ever been this invested in anyone's relationship in my life.
I'm over the moon that there's another chapter available for me after this because you beguiled me back into this wonderful world again and I don't want to get out. With every chapter this story carves out more and more space in my heart and I'm so grateful you keep updating it. Wonderful work as always, I'm forever in your debt.
PS: Kinda wanna know more about Tajima's sex life now. You planted a seed.