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!

AN: For the rest of the chapters, please check out the tagged entries: (https://moor.dreamwidth.org/tag/kimono+no+onna)

At Sixteen

The Festival

Sakura returned to her family home several days before the festival, grateful to embrace her family and familiar routines again. She caught her parents up on most of what had happened since the storm, strategically excluding certain details—like Izuna’s behaviour.

Late on the afternoon of the festival, the bell above the shop’s front door rang. A moment later, Hashirama’s long wolf-whistle of appreciation prompted titters and giggling from the staff at Sakura’s family kimono shop.

“Hashi,” Sakura growled, cheeks pink. She self-consciously touched the precious kanzashi in her hair, ensuring it was fixed in place. She would never be able to forgive herself if it loosened or got lost.

“Madara and I will be the most envied men at the festival tonight,” boasted Hashirama as Sakura’s parents approached, their eyes glowing with pride.

“And we expect you to take good care of our daughter and have her home by ten thirty,” said Kizashi sternly, shaking Hashirama’s hand firmly.

“Fath—”

“Midnight,” sighed Mebuki, her fond eyes filling.

“Mom…”

“Go, before we ruin any of your makeup,” insisted Mebuki, pushing the young couple out the door. “And don’t let your sleeves trail, that furisode is a work of art!”

“I designed it, and the hanhaba obi,” said Sakura, pertly adjusting the hand-sewn kinchaku hanging from her wrist. It matched her furisode. “I know.”

Sensing the moment, Hashirama bowed to Sakura’s parents and their staff, then held out his elbow for Sakura. She grinned and took it and followed him to the awaiting jinrikisha, waving to her family.

As they set off, Hashirama chuckled under his breath. They set off at a brisk pace for the Uchiha estate.

“What?” asked Sakura, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” said Hashi, grinning.

Sakura pursed her lips before remembering her mother’s chastising words about her makeup.

‘He’s going to be absolutely unbearable tonight,’ thought Hashirama.

They reached the Uchiha’s home with only a mild delay due to the gathering festival crowds and cordoned off streets.

Of course, Sakura, a kimono artist, had created a masterpiece to accompany Madara. Her orange and black kimono reflected a pattern with a red moon and black ravens, details in the birds’ feathers trimmed in silver and gold thread, to match her dazzling obi.

“...she’s like a fairy-tale queen!” gasped Tomoyuki when Hashirama and Sakura arrived at the Uchiha estate.

“Wow!”

Not to be outdone by anyone, Madara wore a kimono in deep shades of red, a dramatic pair of cranes flying over a moon that shone down over Fujisan on the back. The birds were rendered in such a way that their long, spindly legs almost seemed to merge to become the stalk handle of the uchiwa fan moon.

“Haruno-dono, you look spectacular! And you and Uchiha-san are wearing such complimentary outfits!” gushed Keiko-san, inviting the guests in. The boys were in various states of semi-formal dress, Tomo’s obviously struggling the most to stay straight on his lively little body.

“Thank you,” said Sakura, flushing. “After making Uchiha-san’s, I wanted to ensure that I had something nice enough to match.”

“You made his, too?” remarked Hashirama as Madara stepped his tabi-covered feet into his geta.

“Hn,” smirked Madara, who hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Sakura since she arrived.

“I wish we had a photographer here to get a picture of you all,” sighed Keiko-san, shaking her head. “Come on, boys, back to your rooms to get ready!”

But Tomo dug in his heels and tried to grab onto Sakura’s sleeve, “I wanna go with Madara-ni and—”

“We’ll see you there,” promised Sakura, smiling at Tomo. “Let’s play a game together when you arrive.” She ignored Madara’s growl of irritation in favour of pacifying Tomo.

“OK,” sulked Tomo. “But you’re not allowed to keep Haruno-dono to yourself, ‘ni-san!”

Tomo crossed his kimono-clad arms over his puffed up chest and glared at his oldest brother. Behind him, his obi loosened and a tail popped free; a nearby maid with frazzled hair sighed heavily.

“Tomoyuki-san, please stand still while I pin your obi in place again…”

“Have a wonderful time,” said Keiko-san as Hashirama, Sakura and Madara stepped out the front door and headed towards the awaiting Rolls-Royce motorcar fleet; one for the older youths, another for Madara’s security entourage. Two more motorcars were lined up behind them further down the drive, ostensibly for Madara’s father and brothers and their security.

With a wave out the motorcar’s window, Hashirama, Sakura and Madara set off for the festival, Sakura and Madara’s gloved fingers interwoven between them while Hashirama grinned.

###

Surrounded by their fellow villagers who were decked out in their own celebratory finery, Sakura, Hashirama and Madara gathered admiring and appreciative glances upon their arrival at the festival. Madara ignored them, but Sakura shied away from the attention while Hashirama grinned and waved to those around them, friendly to everyone they encountered. Their trio (and Madara’s guards) seemed to be ostentatious enough that others kindly stepped out of their way as they passed. Sakura nodded to each person gratefully while Madara blithely continued on.

“You’re used to this,” remarked Sakura.

“Used to what?” asked Madara.

Sakura shook her head.

“You’ll need to get used to this at some point too, you know,” said Hashirama, leaning in to speak privately to Sakura.

Exhaling patiently through her nose, Sakura nodded to Hashirama.

Turning off the main street with the clusters of bands and constant taiko festival drumming, their little group headed towards the nearby Shinto temple’s wraparound deck. The cobblestone walkway soon transitioned into thick, wooden planks across the outcropping that overlooked the reflective, calm waters of the lake. Below them and far out on the darkened water, a raft adorned with lanterns floated in preparation for the evening’s fireworks.

“Hungry?”

“I’m fine, but if you’d—”

Madara looked at Hashi, who nodded and took off without a word.

“Uchiha-san, you can’t treat Hashirama like that,” sighed Sakura as Madara sent Hashirama off for the fifth time to get them more snacks at the nearby takoyaki vendor.

“Why not?”

Sakura tugged on his elbow and gave him a look.

“He’s your friend, not your staff!”

“He can be both.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed.

“What? No, he’s our friend.”

“He can be both,” repeated Madara as they strolled to a stop by the wooden railing that surrounded the temple’s deck. Around them, more and more people streamed closer to get a good view for the evening’s show, however none ever encroached on Sakura and Madara’s personal space. Sakura searched the crowds for the rest of Madara’s family, but the venue was too busy.

Turning away from the view, Sakura met Madara’s even gaze.

“You’re keeping secrets from me,” she realised aloud.

“Hn,” denied Madara, about to add something before he decided otherwise, sealing his lips again.

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him and he held his ground for a long moment before avoiding her judgement. Adjusting his shoulders, Madara turned towards the lake and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “He works for me, now.”

“Since when?”

“Since I needed a second in command who I could trust… with you.”

A faint tingling worried Sakura’s fingertips and lips.

“What do you mean?”

“If there is ever a time you need me and can’t reach me, go to him,” said Madara too calmly.

“Why would…” Sakura’s words faded on her lips. How often had it happened now, that something had come between them?

Understanding kindled in her expression, softening it. “He’s part of the security detail you arranged for me, isn’t he?”

Madara nodded. “Ultimately, but he is here tonight to stay close to you if we get separated. If my own security team must leave with me, you must be safe. The guards answer to my father. Hashirama answers to me… and to you. Coincidentally, another man, Uchiha Obito, is also part of your detail, but he is to remain hidden unless absolutely necessary. He is a good man. They both are.”

“And you chose Hashirama because he is closer to my family than yours.”

After a moment, Madara nodded.

“We announce the engagement in December, just a few weeks away. My cousins and uncles have been testing my allegiance to my father, and my intentions for the clan, for the last several years. Once they realize I don’t intend to marry within the clan, those who harbour ill-intent towards me will move forward with their plans to try and discredit and disinherit me, to put someone else, like Izuna, in charge, someone more easily manipulated.”

Sakura’s eyes widened as Madara confided in her.

Not for the first time, he appeared older to her, wiser than both their years combined.

“This is why I have worked so hard to secure my position these last several years; and why I needed someone I could trust in place to protect you before we break the news,” said Madara, turning to her with his face full of responsibility, maturity, and most of all, love. “I’m sorry I have been so busy these last weeks. I needed Hashirama and Obito-san up to speed as fast as possible. The clan must believe I am working in their best interests if I’m to gain their support; and I have to be twice as cunning as them if I’m to hold the zaibatsu’s reins without the use of inter clan marriage to secure power.”

Swallowing over the lump that rose in her throat, Sakura nodded.

“Don’t cry,” ordered Madara gruffly, reaching into his sleeve and offering her a handkerchief monogrammed with the characters of his first name and clan symbol.

“I feel like, sometimes, I can never match what you’ve done to ensure our future together,” admitted Sakura in a tiny voice. “How much you had to manipulate, and how many people you lead and manage, and how much further ahead you’ve had to look.”

“The reason I look so far ahead is because I look forward to it being with you,” said Madara matter-of-factly. “That alone is worth all the effort, challenge… and reward.”

His familiar smirk played at the corner of his lips, and the darkness in his heavy-lidded eyes brought heat rising quickly to Sakura’s face.

“You’re worth every minute,” added Madara, taking Sakura’s hand.

He kissed her palm as the first fireworks exploded in a shower of shimmering light and excitement in the sky.

From his place several meters away in the crowd, Hashirama fondly watched his friends enjoy their date. He smiled as he, too, accepted what they already felt for each other: to Sakura and Madara, they were already engaged, already married to each other in spirit. Neither would ever look at another person the way they looked at each other; their wedding would be both a massive and trivial formality, to them; massive in the planning and execution of a noble-class wedding, and trivial in that, to them, the paperwork was for everyone else’s benefit, not theirs, not when they felt the way they did.

At the end of the fireworks that night, Madara turned to Sakura. The crowds dissipated around them, but they remained by the temple railing, overlooking the lake below.

“Where to?” he asked.

She blinked.

“Your home… or…” the manor went unsaid.

Reluctantly, she took his hand and sighed. “My home, please. I’ve missed my family.”

He nodded and, Hashirama in tow, they walked towards the garment district where her kimono shop resided.

As they neared her home, Madara glanced over his shoulder and Hashirama paused while Madara walked Sakura to her door.

“I’ll be going to the winter house soon to review it before we open it for the cold months… You should come with me,” said Madara, stopping beneath the lantern that hung over the door to Sakura’s home and business.

“Where is it?”
“Kyushu. It will take a week or so,” said Madara. “Hashirama and Keiko-san will be there to chaperone.”

Sakura arched a brow.

“And your parents could join us, if they like. We’ll be taking our private rail cars. They’re very comfortable.”

Sakura had no doubt they were ridiculously lavish, if Madara considered them ‘very comfortable’. His clan’s zaibatsu had been instrumental in the industrial use and laying of the initial 5,000 miles of railway track in Japan, alongside the government. Of course they would make use of it privately, too.

“And your father? And brothers?”
“Will be staying here. I’m opening it on my own this year.”

Sakura swallowed. Madara really was a step above…

“When do you need an answer?”

“I leave Wednesday. Before then.”

That left them a few days and she nodded.

“What should I bring?”

“Summer clothes, maybe a few books for the train,” he said impishly.

Sakura was going to shove him before something rose in her memory.

“Uchiha-san, speaking of books… did you ever find the ones I lost at your home?” she asked cautiously.

The playfulness faded from Madara’s eyes and he shook his head once.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded.

“Promise me you’ll think on it?” pushed Madara. “Wednesday.”

“I will. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

He swallowed and dipped his chin. Then he lifted a hand to cup her cheek and leaned in.

“Don’t think too hard on it,” he whispered against her ear, kissing her cheek as he pulled away.

Cupping her hand over his, she sighed and nodded. “Ah.”

And then she kissed his palm, as he had done earlier that evening, love in her eyes.

Two days later, Sakura called Madara on the telephone and confirmed that she and her parents would love to take him up on his invitation to visit the southern provinces.

“Why is ‘dara-ni jumping around?” wondered Tomo aloud several days later, peeking around the corner of their father’s drawing room and spying on his oldest brother.

“Dunno. Must be excited about something,” said Shika as their oldest brother continued to dance around the desk.

###

The Travel

The Japanese countryside rocketed past the windows of the Uchiha’s rosewood panelled railcars as Sakura, her parents, Madara, Hashirama and Madara’s guards progressed to their destination. For the most part, Sakura and her family read, chatted with Hashirama or played various card games. Madara had holed himself up in a car of his own with the excuse of stacks of paperwork to be completed and had only joined them for meals. To Sakura’s surprise, Keiko-san really had joined them and served her family.

“Why wouldn’t she join us? She’s part of your staff,” answered Madara when Sakura pulled him aside and asked him about the maid’s presence.

Sakura blinked.

“Where you go, she goes. I think she is enjoying the break from the house, too. Think of this as a working vacation for her,” added Madara. “And an extra set of eyes and ears,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to make out.

Sakura smiled and nodded.

“Is my guard here, too?”
“Obito-san? Yes. He’s terrifying and extremely competent. He received permission to bring several extra men he trusts, too. You won’t see them unless you’re at risk.”

“Why the extra men?”

“To protect your family. He took the initiative to extend a safety net over them, too.”

Her heart clenched behind her ribs.

“My… family? Why would they…”

Madara’s eyes softened, though his tone remained firm.

“This is the world I live in; and the price we pay, gratefully, to ensure no harm comes to any of you. Going forward, you must anticipate this.”

He took her hand and Sakura nodded when he laced their fingers together and squeezed them.

“For as long as possible, they will escort you from the shadows. If you ever need them, though, call for Obito-san. You will always be within his sight. Later, we’ll work out a series of signals you can give to communicate with him, but for now, enjoy the train ride with your family,” said Madara, finally smiling. “It isn’t often they’ve travelled in a private railcar, is it?”

“No, and this is very comfortable,” admitted Sakura, returning his warm smile as bravely as she could. Her family. Her family’s safety would be affected by her relationship with Madara…
She had recognized early that her family’s professional and personal reputation could be affected by her own behaviour, but the fact that her relationship with Uchiha Madara may negatively impact her family’s safety had never crossed her mind. Unconsciously, she had always assumed that being associated with him protected them, as their fathers were long-time friends.

She was a potential vulnerability, she realised. Not just to Madara, but to her parents, now.

It was something to consider and Madara must have sensed the shift in her mood as he tugged on her sleeve, distracting her.

“Good. If you need anything, tell Keiko-san. I think she likes your family.”

“Really?”

“Ah,” murmured Madara, tugging her closer. “Go. I have work. If I can finish it before we get to the winter house, we’ll have more time together there,” he promised, nuzzling her ear.

With another nod, and a quick, tight hug, Sakura exhaled and centered herself before returning to the card table with her family. Madara returned to his own car with a fresh cup of tea from Keiko-san.

For the rest of the afternoon, she chatted with her parents, Hashirama, and Keiko-san, but her focus was only half present.

###

Hashirama returned from the passage that connected their private rail cars to the rest of the train. Outside, a train station’s awning protected the Uchiha rail cars from the dazzling autumn sun.

“The conductor said we’ll be stopped here for several hours while they re-order the cars and load the freight. He’s invited us to get out and stretch our legs,” announced Hashirama cheerfully. “He also said there’s a famous bakery down the road, if we follow the stream that cuts through the town.”

“Shall we go?” asked Kizashi, already sitting up.

“Bring your hats and gloves, ladies, it’s very sunny and warm,” agreed Mebuki, picking up a parasol and handing another two to Keiko-san and Sakura, respectively.

Their group, dressed in Western garments of the French style that day, meandered down the main road under the branches of the spent sakura trees. Hashirama and Kizashi window-shopped along the storefronts while Sakura’s mother wove her arm through Sakura’s, Keiko-san bringing up the rear, all enjoying the temperate breeze in their flowing day dresses.

“I know what’s coming,” said Mebuki, once Hashirama and Kizashi were out of earshot.

At Mebuki’s declaration, Sakura’s leather shoe caught in an uneven stone and she would have tumbled had her mother not tightened her grip on Sakura’s arm.

“I’ve known for a long time,” continued Mebuki patiently. “Tajima may not have spoken with your father—yet—but I can sense when that cunning fox is biding his time for the opportune moment, and no doubt Master Madara has learned how, too. However, Sakura, listen to me. Is it what you want?”

Her heart hammering in her chest, Sakura looked up at her mother as her parasol slid backward over her shoulder. Her cheeks coloured even as she paled under her mother’s scrutiny.

“What are you—”

“Do not ever think you can deceive your own mother, Sakura Haruno,” said Mebuki, her voice velvet and steel as she addressed her daughter in the European fashion, given name first. Reminding her of her own heritage and choices. “You have kept the details private, but I know events happened in Tajima’s house that traumatised you. The only reason I held back from interfering was my trust in you. Which you will always, always have, no matter what.”

“Mama,” said Sakura, swallowing.

Mother and daughter gazed at each other; their heights matched, now that Mebuki wore a taller heel.

“I want to trust Master Madara,” said Mebuki. “But I know Tajima too well. Master Madara is Lord Uchiha’s son and heir, through and through.”

“... I think Lord Uchiha is afraid of you.”

“He is,” replied Mebuki. A small smirk hinted at the corners of her lips. “But while Master Madara respects us, he does not fear us as his father does, so if he is whom you choose, we must be careful. Should anything tilt the wrong way, removing you from his side may prove to be more difficult. I want you to be sure of this, Sakura darling. I suspect young Master Madara made his decision long ago and put enough measures in place to ensure your relationship’s success that the only way to dissolve it would be to prevent it from being consummated through marriage.”

Her hand over her mother’s on her arm as they walked beneath their parasols, Sakura shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Mebuki pursed her lips for a moment.

“Sakura, Master Madara is… To be painfully blunt, he is very much the type to ensure that if he can’t have you, no one can.”

Kizashi and Hashirama had paused in front of an horlogier’s storefront, so Mebuki steered Sakura to look out over the stream that slowly whorled and rolled by, on the far side of the road.

“He will give you everything,” added Mebuki. “He will do anything to make you happy. But would he give you freedom, if you asked him?”

“I don’t want freedom from him, Mama. I want to be with him for the rest of my life. We have both known this for a long time,” continued Sakura. “It was never an option of not being with one another.”

Mebuki’s irises grew wide but she pressed her lips together as she focused on her daughter’s genuine imploring.

“But to answer your question, yes. He would. If I asked it of him,” replied Sakura, looking across the stream to the businesses that ran down the opposite side of the road. “But neither of us would be happy that way.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of Uchiha-san? Yes… And to be very clear, he is not the type to keep me away from others if I want to see them. He is the one who reached out to Hashirama, after all,” reminded Sakura. “So he could maintain a bond with not only our family, but the rest of the Dutch community, too.”

“That is true. That young man is far too shrewd for his age,” muttered Mebuki half under her breath.

Sakura grinned impishly at her mother.

“He uses it for the forces of good,” cajoled Sakura.

“No, I have no doubt he uses it to get his way,” sighed Mebuki. She shook her head.

“Ma’ams, It looks like the gentlemen have outpaced us,” interrupted Keiko-san from Mebuki’s side. “Shall we catch up?”

“We don’t want to lose track of those two,” agreed Mebuki tiredly. “That’s all we’d need, them lost and holding up the train while we chase after them… Kizashi! Kizashi, would you slow down, we’re in heels!”

Keiko-san and Sakura giggled and hurried after Mebuki and the men. The return to the train an hour later was uneventful, with the exception of Kizashi having somehow snuck several bottles of the local saké aboard, which he and Hashirama proceeded to share generously, singing Japanese and Dutch bawdy songs as the countryside passed in a blur until Madara stormed out of his office-car and told them to be more respectful of their company and to start behaving like gentlemen.

Cowed for the time being, Kizashi and Hashirama hunkered down and went back to quietly playing cards.

From behind her book, Sakura bit her hand to muffle her snickering.

###

After a short trip by ferry, their group boarded another train once they reached the shores of Kyushu.

Her parents had retired to their own sleeping car late that night, leaving Sakura on her own in the ‘lounge’ car to finish up her book while Keiko-san brought their tea cups and saucers to the kitchen car. Her eyelids lowering as she yawned and turned the page, Sakura stretched her back only to feel a warm, familiar hand rub her shoulders.

Looking up, Sakura smiled at the gentleness in Madara’s eyes. He must have been biding his time for her to be alone before approaching her.

“You should rest,” said Madara softly. “We’ll arrive early and the rest of the journey will be by carriage. It’s harder to nap on dirt roads.”

“And you? How is the work?”

“Hn, if we’re lucky, I’ll finish up by tomorrow night. Does your father like to fish?”

“Father… I suppose. He hasn’t mentioned it much since we became so busy in Japan, but he used to go out on Sunday afternoons. Why?”

“I wrote ahead to the staff to stock the nearby lakes and ponds,” smirked Madara. “He’ll be a champion fisherman before he leaves.”

Sakura chuckled. “You’re buttering him up by making him think he’s better than he is. Clever.”

“Better than having him testy if we don’t catch anything.” He paused, clearing his throat minutely. “More likely to have him say yes.”

Sakura’s eyes widened and warmed and Madara swallowed, unable to look away from her.

“We’re really doing this,” whispered Sakura. “Finally.”

“Ah,” whispered Madara warmly. He squeezed her shoulder and she placed her hand atop his, weaving their fingers together.

“You two should get some sleep,” broke in Keiko-san gently, returning with a tray of clean, dry tea cups and saucers. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

“You’re always right, Keiko-san,” said Madara, helping Sakura to her feet. He carefully placed her bookmark between the pages she’d stopped and handed it to her. “Sleep well,” he said, speaking to Keiko-san even if his eyes remained on Sakura.

“You, too,” said Sakura, nodding to both of them. “Sorry to keep you up, Keiko-san,” whispered Sakura as she passed her maid.

“Nothing to apologise for,” replied Keiko-san with a wink.

###

The three-storey stone ‘winter’ house was flanked by an extensive wing on either side. In spite of its location in the mountains, the sprawling property itself was surrounded by English gardens on three sides and Japanese ponds and bridges in the rear, until the surrounding hills sloped into a small valley and stretch of lake to the west. Several outbuildings, similar in style to those found in England and France, dotted the landscape and Sakura spotted a flock of sheep grazing down one of the tors.

Their group was warmly welcomed at their destination early the next afternoon, with fond exclamations of, “The Young Master! The Young Master is here!”

“They’re very… effusive,” remarked Mebuki, leaning close to whisper to Sakura.

“This house belonged to Master Madara’s mother and her family, not the main Uchiha branch like Lord Uchiha,” offered Keiko-san, sotto voce. “They haven’t seen Master Madara in several years.”

Madara’s mother’s family?... Why did that sound familiar to Sakura? She ran the phrasing over in her head several times and came up blank. Of course Madara had a mother; he and Izuna were the only ones of their brothers who had still remembered what she looked like—

Sakura pulled up short.

—Izuna.
Izuna had been sent to live with Madara’s mother’s side of the family.

“Keiko-san—” began Sakura, her voice tremulous in spite of her best efforts.

A gentle squeeze at her elbow got Sakura’s attention and Keiko-san withdrew her gloved hand, shaking her head gently.

“Lady Uchiha’s family are vast, Sakura-san,” said Keiko-san calmly. “Spread out far and wide. Outside the regular staff, we are the only visitors here at this time.”

“Ah,” breathed Sakura in relief. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Anytime you need me, just call for me, Sakura-san. It’s my pleasure to serve you,” said Keiko-san kindly.

More and more, Sakura realised how much she appreciated Madara appointing Keiko-san her maid… and confidante, if she didn’t miss her guess.

Having given his attendant staff their initial orders, Madara turned back to his guests.

“Keiko-san, could you please accompany our guests to their rooms and direct the staff? Hashirama, please speak with the gamekeeper to arrange for fishing poles and bait.”

“Fishing? You have a pond here?” asked Kizashi, perking up as the staff collected their luggage in a flurry and carried it into the servants’ corridors to deposit it in their rooms, presumably.

“We have several. Hashirama has a map with the best spots marked,” said Madara. “Please feel free to visit them at your leisure while you’re our guest.”

“Well, this is quite the place,” said Kizashi, chuffed. “You have everything you need here!”

Madara caught Sakura’s knowing gaze out of the corner of his eye and smirked only a very little bit.

“I suppose I do,” agreed Madara, giving him a nod. “Please excuse me. If you need anything, Hashirama and Keiko-san are at your disposal.”

Sakura’s eyes followed Madara as he bowed to them and then went to meet the rest of the house staff, several of the maids already carrying heavy ledgers for his review as other servants hurried to their posts and opened the double-doors that led to another wing of the mansion. Each member of the staff inclined their heads respectfully to Madara as he passed, a master who was confident in his every step in spite of not having visited the residence in years. He took command of all of them as if it was the most natural thing in the world… which, in his world, Sakura supposed it was.

He was groomed to become the next Prime Minister of the Taishō era, a little voice inside Sakura reminded her. He can handle a family gathering.

So it’s high time for me to do my part and support us, too, thought Sakura firmly to herself.

“Shall we explore?” asked Sakura with a broad smile, turning to her mother and Keiko-san.

Mebuki’s eyebrow rose for a half-second before she nodded. “After you.”

From behind Mebuki, Keiko-san winked a twinkling eye at Sakura and subtly pointed to the main stairs.

“This way,” said Sakura, holding her head high and leading them through the lobby.

###

The next several days passed in a comfortable sweep for Sakura’s family at the ‘winter house’. Madara joined them for meals, however was otherwise occupied reviewing the estate’s accounts and businesses.

On the third day at supper, a staff member approached Madara and murmured in his ear. Madara nodded and the man left immediately without another word.

“Is everything alright?” asked Sakura quietly from beside him.

“Ah. I was confirming our plans for tomorrow,” said Madara to her and those seated at the table at large.

“‘Our’ plans?” asked Mebuki, her cutlery’s passage slowing across her plate.

“I have arranged for us all to enjoy a day trip. It was one of my favourite places in Kyushu when I spent time here,” said Madara.

Sakura’s brows rose. He hadn’t mentioned such a place to her…

“It’s a surprise,” said Madara, smiling at her. “You’ll see tomorrow.”

“What should we wear?”

“Something comfortable to move in… that will dry quickly.”

Mebuki and Kizashi looked at each other and shrugged, going back to their delicious meal. Hashirama grinned while the tilt of Keiko-san’s chin looked… knowing?

But when Sakura turned to Madara, she caught the tell-tale shit-eating grin he wore and pursed her lips. He was planning something. Hashirama and Keiko-san were in on it, too, if she didn’t miss her guess.

“What are you up to?” she whispered, leaning in to his side.

“Nothing, eat your supper,” he replied just as quietly, but he reached over and squeezed her hand in his, just for a heartbeat, when Keiko-san cleared her throat and started another conversation with Sakura’s parents, distracting them.

###

The next day their group gathered together and travelled to another village in the mountains, descending steep, narrow roads in their motorcars. Sakura, Madara and Keiko-san in the first car, Sakura’s parents and Hashirama in the second. The roads were little more than tracks in the rocky ground at times, but they made their way safely through the mountain passes where riots of colourful trees pressed in on all sides.

Then, as they turned a corner and the valley sprawled before them, Sakura gasped.

“A gorge! Waterfalls!”

“Ah,” said Madara, watching her reactions fondly. “This is Takachiho Gorge. My mother’s family always paid tribute to the nearby shrine. On nice days we would walk the trails and explore.”

The cars wound their way down to the bottom of the valley and their group assembled by a small, neat shack. Beyond the shack’s employees, no one else was present. On the other side of the shack was the shore of a waterway, bordered by basalt cliffs on either side, waterfalls spilling over their crests into the riverway below.

“We’ll be boarding here,” said Madara, leading them forward. He nodded to the skiffs docked in the water on the wooden jetty. “We’ve booked three for our personal use for the day.”

Which was when Hashirama and Keiko-san got to work herding Sakura’s parents towards their skiffs while Sakura could only turn to stare at Madara.

“It’s beautiful here,” she breathed, taking in the crimsons, ambers, oranges and umbers of the autumn foliage that peeked over the sides of the cliffs and spread across the mountainside above them like a quilt.

“Ah,” agreed Madara peacefully, taking her hand.

Everyone else paddled eagerly ahead while Sakura and Madara eased into their little boat at the dock and set out at a more leisurely pace.

“You’re healed enough for this? You don’t need to show off for me, you know. I can more than pull us along,” offered Sakura. She reached for one of the oars, but Madara waved her hand away. She arched a brow and he smirked at her before pulling the oars effortlessly through the water, no hint of a wince or flinch. Ah, he wanted to show off. So be it.

“I finally get you all to myself,” teased Sakura. She leaned back on her cushioned seat and grinned at him.

“I will be saying that to you on our wedding night,” gloated Madara with a low chuckle. They approached one of the larger waterfalls that plummeted from the mountainside straight into the river they paddled, mindful not to get too close.

Not to be outdone, Sakura, cheeks warm, decided two could play at that game.

“Do you know what I’m going to say on our wedding night?” she asked, fingering her pendant.

Madara froze in the middle of paddling. His Adam’s apple bobbed as Sakura’s fingertips trailed leadingly down her throat, luring his increasingly heated attention.

She leaned forward, drawing him in closer, her gaze on his lips. “I’m going to say—”

The waterfall’s downpour drowned out her voice for anyone other than Madara’s ears, which was fortunate as Madara dropped the oars in surprise at her words. He then spent the next five minutes trying to fish them out of the water again without tipping over their boat, muttering curses at Sakura as she laughed at him.

—which was probably for the best, as Madara certainly needed the chilly water to cool himself off after Sakura’s naughty teasing.

###

The last several days of their trip, Madara brought Kizashi, Sakura and occasionally Mebuki with him and Hashirama as they completed the last of the estate’s property review. Kizashi was especially enthused when they frequently took breaks to fish in the ponds.

“It’s like I can’t lose when I fish here!” he exclaimed, netting another slippery, silver-scaled victim.

Madara met Sakura’s gaze over her father’s head and smirked.

Everyone turned in to bed early on their final night to prepare for the long return journey the following day… everyone except Sakura and Madara, who remained downstairs in the Master’s salon, their tea cups empty and hearts full.

“Was it enough?” asked Madara, eyelids drooping as he clutched Sakura’s hand in his. His head reclined on the back of the chintz sofa, his shoulders sagging.

“You wore yourself out trying to impress him. You didn’t have to,” said Sakura, stroking his hair.

“Yes, I did. You’re his only daughter. He needs to know you’ll be provided for,” murmured Madara.

“He’s been your father’s best friend since childhood. He knows well what partnering with your family entails and will encompass,” said Sakura, yawning into her shoulder. She smiled sleepily at him. “What’s important to him is that you’ll treat me well.”

“That above all,” agreed Madara, lifting Sakura’s hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she curled into his side, their eyes slipping closed…

“Up to bed, both of you,” whispered Keiko-san in the dark, some hours later. She nudged their shoulders, separating them in spite of Madara’s instinctive curling around Sakura. “Just a little bit longer, and you’ll both have what you want most.”

“Th’nkyou, Keiko-s’n,” mumbled Madara, yawning and pulling a mostly-still-sleeping Sakura up with him.

Sakura nodded and blindly followed Keiko-san up to her room, with none of the other household any the wiser. Several hours later, Keiko roused them again and helped pack the last of their things.

They set off as the sun rose, Sakura and Madara soon falling asleep in the carriage once more, slumped against each other, fingers entwined.

Over the children’s heads, Kizashi and Mebuki’s eyes met, warm, lingering, and concerned.

###

At the same small town their train had paused in before, the group took a small break to stretch before the last leg of their journey.

Wary of her mother’s thoughtful, quiet mood, Sakura set out with her parents while Keiko-san and Hashirama remained with Madara to attend to his business with the train staff.

“Shall we go to the bakery again?” asked Sakura, aiming to be pleasant in the face of her mother’s silence.

Beneath her sun hat, Mebuki nodded.

When her mother made no comment beyond asking for a dozen of the sweet custard buns at the bakery, Sakura bit the inside of her cheek and put on a fixed smile.

Her mother was never this quiet and reflective. Her father babbled on about this or that, especially how he looked forward to fishing with Master Madara again soon, since he seemed to be a bit of a good luck charm… However, Mebuki did little beyond nodding or humming in agreement with her husband, her thoughts private.

Mebuki was renowned for having opinions on everything. The silence twisted Sakura’s stomach until she finally slowed beside the stream that curled through the village.

“What is it?” she demanded, gripping the wooden guard that prevented passerby from tripping down the bank into the flowing waters.

“Hm?” Mebuki stopped and looked over her shoulder at her daughter. “Is something wrong, darling?”

“You’re too quiet.”

Mebuki smiled ruefully. “Your father’s never complained about me being quiet.”

“It terrifies him.”

“Rightfully so,” agreed Kizashi without missing a beat and coming to stand beside his wife and daughter.

“There is that,” agreed Mebuki goodnaturedly. “What’s wrong? Why would I be quiet?”

“I don’t know. We worked so hard to make you and Father see that you need not worry about Uchiha-san and me, but you’ve hardly said a word.” Sakura’s fingers twisted together as she wrung her hands. “Please, tell me the truth.”

Beneath the trees that lined the banks of the stream, Mebuki and Kizashi slowed to a stop and gazed at each other, speaking without words.

“We’ll give you our blessing,” promised Kizashi softly. “If that is what you wish.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed and her mother lifted a hand, stilling Sakura’s reaction.

“What’s most important to us are your safety, happiness, and success,” added Mebuki. “Do you feel Uchiha Madara-san will openly and enthusiastically provide for you in these ways? No, think about this before you speak,” ordered Mebuki gently, her brows lifting to insist on Sakura’s patience.

“He would never harm me,” Sakura was about to retort before remembering he already had. “We’re still discussing how I can continue my kimono work,” she admitted instead, and her parents nodded. “But he has already made arrangements for my safety. He gave me a security detail some time ago, and extended it to you both, to reassure me. We also talked about the measures he must take to protect himself,” she said steadily, lifting her chin.

“Success… we support each other’s success. We’re young. We’ll be looking to you, and Lord Uchiha, for advice and guidance ensuring our mutual success. We don’t intend one’s success to come at the expense of the other’s,” said Sakura. “And I have no intention of leaving Maison Haruno Kimono, the art, the business, the design… That is mine. No one may take that from me. I will be the best at that, always.”

A warm glow entered her father’s eyes as her mother’s shone with pride.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to send a telegram,” announced Kizashi, nodding and swallowing gruffly. “I’ll rejoin you in a moment.”

“Papa—!”

“Sshhhhh, it’s nothing to worry about,” promised Mebuki, tugging her daughter behind her.

“Mama?”

“Trust me,” said Mebuki, squeezing her daughter’s gloved hands. “Now, let’s get some drinks to take home with us for the last day of this beautiful trip.”

With that, she tucked her daughter’s hand into her arm and tugged her back along the main road towards the train again. Kizashi soon followed them.

The whole way back to the train, Mebuki and Kizashi exchanged secret looks. Kizashi occasionally sniffled.

Biting her lip, Sakura hoped she’d said the right thing.

###

Looking around her private cabin bunk on the rail car on the last night of their trip, Sakura’s brows furrowed.

“Something wrong?” asked Keiko-san across from her, folding some of the laundered linens from the hospitality car.

“Have you seen my hairbrush? I used it this morning, but it isn’t where I left it,” said Sakura, kneeling down to pat around the plushly carpeted floor.

“No, it was beside your wash basin when we left for breakfast… Is anything else missing?”

“No,” Sakura shook her head. “Everything else is here, I think.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn up. I’ll take a look after I finish—” Keiko-san’s yawn cracked her jaw. “—finish these wash cloths,” she finished, covering her mouth. “Excuse me!”

The stress around Sakura’s eyes eased and she smiled apologetically at her friend.

“You should have a nap. You’ve been run ragged tagging after us and looking after us all this past week,” said Sakura. “Don’t worry about the brush. I can find a new one if necessary. It can’t have gone far.”

But Keiko-san wouldn’t hear of it. “I wouldn’t dare sleep while the rest of you are awake—”

“Please. Rest. Imagine what it’ll be like once we get back to the manor and the boys are jumping all over us again demanding to know what we got them for souvenirs,” teased Sakura.

Keiko-san’s shoulders and expression sagged so demonstratively that Sakura burst out laughing and Keiko-san shook her head and giggled along with her.

“Fine. But no more than an hour. I must serve supper when it’s ready,” said the maid firmly.

“Deal,” said Sakura, closing the blinds and shades as she left her friend to rest in her room.

###

When Sakura returned to the main rail car, she was surprised to find it empty. Returning down the hall, she could make out the sounds of her parents snoring from their room, and Hashirama humming to himself as he worked in his own room.

Curious, Sakura explored further and knocked lightly on the open door that led to Madara’s personal car and suite of private rooms.

“Uchiha-san,” called Sakura quietly. “Are you here?”

“Hn? Yes, is everything alright?” he asked, pushing back his chair and coming to stand. He set down the book he’d been reading, spreading its pages so as not to lose his place.

Sakura looked around the well-appointed room and shook her head. Brass fittings and porcelain doorknobs and transom windows above each pocket door? Needlessly lavish, in her opinion, but Madara looked quite at home therein.
“It’s usually my father’s car. He loaned it to me for the trip,” explained Madara, coming to join her and pull her into the room and onto a sofa beside him. “You didn’t answer.”

“Everything is fine. I think almost everyone else is asleep. You exhausted my parents and we all wore out poor Keiko-san. I think she was asleep before I finished closing the door of the car! Hashi is working on something or other in his own room,” explained Sakura.

Sitting beside her, Madara reached down and pulled her feet, one at a time, into his lap. He untied her shoes and popped them off her stockinged feet, kicking off his own slippers at the same time.

“Uchiha-san,” said Sakura warningly.

“Shhhhh,” he murmured, leaning in to nuzzle her throat. “Just a few minutes. You keep an eye out.”

Sakura’s breath caught as her eyes fluttered shut, and she slowly sank into Madara, her hands tangled in his hair.

“Th-that may be… mmmm…”

Madara’s low chuckle tightened Sakura’s low belly and she writhed in his lap when his knuckles skimmed her inner thigh, creeping up sensitive skin beneath her dress and silk slip.

“I can’t wait until our wedding night,” growled Madara, panting in her hair as his fingers sank into her thighs when he pulled her over the part of him that strained hardest for her. His male moan of desire sent Sakura’s head spinning.

“I-I have something for you… w-when we get home,” managed Sakura, reaching between them to cup him through his trousers. He moaned into the tender skin of her neck and shoulder, pushing her blouse away with his nose and dragging his teeth across her until she whined.

“Hn?”

“Soon, I promise,” said Sakura before she leaned in and kissed Madara on the lips. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

His response was enthusiastic and they lost themselves to kisses for the rest of the hour.

“Come back here tonight,” whispered Madara as the scent of supper began to waft through the room. They reluctantly let each other go, then checked each other’s attire before opening the door. Madara helped tidy Sakura’s hair and makeup as they peeked out into the main social cabin. It was still empty, fortunately.

Madara took a seat in the main car while Sakura debated before nodding. “I need to go wake up Keiko-san. I’ll be back with a book.”

“Ah,” said Madara, reopening his own to the page he’d left it on. Fortunately, they had stayed off the desk that afternoon so this particular volume was still in decent repair.
That was how Sakura’s parents found them as they shuffled in, still a bit sleepy, half an hour or so later, Hashirama right behind them.

“What were you two up to this afternoon?” teased Hashirama.

“Reading,” said Sakura and Madara, lifting their books up simultaneously. They froze and looked at each other. Madara grinned.

“It’s like you’re already an old couple, sometimes,” laughed Hashirama.

Keiko-san saved them from responding when she called them for supper a heartbeat later.

###

That night while the rest of the cars’ occupants slept, Sakura tiptoed into Madara’s private car, locking the door behind her. She set a bundle down on the seat by the sliding door, then dropped her dressing gown on the floor.

Awake and waiting for her, Madara didn’t waste time and dragged her into his bed.

With her arms pinned over her head, she let Madara drink his fill of her, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to him over and over again, careful never to risk too much. Eventually he allowed her to push him down into his bed and straddle him, taking him in her hands and bringing him, finally, to shuddering completion, his face buried in her throat and hands buried in her flanks, desperate to bury himself inside her and fighting the urge with everything in him.

Smiling down at him as they panted together, their skin dewy and alive, Sakura kissed Madara’s brow. “I promise you will like the present that’s waiting for you at home.”

“You keep teasing me,” he grumbled, gazing up at her from on his back, spent. He shivered as Sakura moved down him to clean him up with her hands, cloth and tongue. His eyes rolled back as he bucked unconsciously, still too sensitive.

“Hm?”

He could only moan, the back of his hand jammed in his mouth to muffle the sound.

Sakura chuckled softly.

When she was done, he pulled her up his naked body—she still wore her nightgown—and they cuddled until they fell asleep.

###

“Madar—fuck!”

“Hm? Hashirama, what are—ugh, shit,” hissed Madara, throwing the covers over Sakura and leaping out of bed, ignoring Hashirama as he pulled on the trousers he’d worn the day before.

“It’s breakfast. You just couldn’t wait one more fucking day?!” snapped Hashirama under his breath, grabbing Sakura’s clothes and tossing them in the direction of the bed while deliberately avoiding looking at her. “Good morning, Sakura.”

Pushing herself up, Sakura rubbed her eyes and tugged the sheets and her clothes closer. “Morning, Hashi. How bad is it?”

“I’ll go head off your parents, but I think Keiko-san was already on the job deflecting them. She was chatting with them and convincing them they should spend at least one meal in the ‘touring’ car, which is full of windows but far too cold for almost November!”

“It was nice and warm in here,” said Sakura sweetly, watching Hashirama’s face go from red to purple and trying not to laugh as he scowled. Madara snickered and tossed her the bundle of clothing she had brought with her the night before.

“I swear, if you end up with a bastard before you’re married and it ties back to this trip—” began Hashirama murderously, ensuring the door was closed behind him. “Your father will have my head!”

“We know how to be careful,” said Sakura, turning her back to Hashirama and changing. Madara handed her her stockings and helped her fasten the back of her fresh dress as she stood from the bed. “Tuck these in with your things?” She handed him her nightclothes. “Keiko-san will know how to get them back into my rooms at your house without anyone the wiser.”

“I thought better of you, Sakura,” said Hashirama quietly, glancing over his shoulder to find her fully dressed. “What would your parents think?”

Sakura paused in buttoning her sleeve cuffs while Madara, brushing out her long, rose hair with his own brush, glared at his second-in-command.

“They trust me,” said Sakura after a moment, chin lifted. “So should you.”

“Did it smell like a whorehouse when you came in?” asked Madara evenly.

“No,” admitted Hashirama after a moment, swallowing, his cheeks pink. He looked away from them.

“Well, there’s your answer,” said Sakura lightly. “I’ll go first. Boys, give me at least two minutes before you join.”

With a smile on her lips, she happily went to join her parents and Keiko-san in the touring car, exclaiming over how well she slept the night before and apologising for being late.

Sakura’s mind wandered as she sat down to eat with her family.

Hashirama had given Sakura a taste of what others would think of her, say to her. She and Madara had washed each other down before they went to sleep, which was fortunately what had prevented their tryst from being discovered, but it was still a close thing. Hashirama could still confirm that there had been no intercourse on his or Keiko-san’s watch.

For her part, her best armour was to not react to future accusations, she decided.

If the approving nod Madara gave her at breakfast was any indication, Sakura suspected she was on the right track.

Had it been reckless to sneak into Madara’s car the night before? To be even partially intimate with him? Of course. However, she missed him, his arms around her, his breath along her collarbone, his hands in her hair and on her skin, his voice and moans and his surrendering devotion as he worshipped her—and she him. She missed his touch so much it made her desperate for him. She would take anything he would give her, and she would fight anyone who tried to keep them apart. She was not afraid of anyone; she only feared that there still may be some way of keeping them apart. She refused to let that happen.

As she packed up the last of her things that afternoon as they approached Konoha, however, she questioned herself one last time about where she had left her hairbrush. Across the small room, Keiko-san buckled the belts around the other luggage they had previously packed.

Kneeling beside her bed, Sakura ran her hand along the edges of the floor and shook her head. Well, she supposed Madara couldn’t spend a minor fortune on a hairbrush, if she asked him to get her a new one…

“Something wrong, Sakura?” called a voice from the corridor. Sakura’s mother poked her head in and looked around, finding Sakura on the floor.

Looking up from the carpet, Sakura shook her head. “No Mama, I just feel silly that I can’t find my brush.”

Mebuki’s eyes narrowed and she inhaled slowly before pasting on a smile. Then she stepped into Sakura’s room. Without a word, her eyes on Sakura, she reached and pulled down the comforter on Sakura’s bed.

There, where Sakura would have immediately found it the night before if she’d actually slept in her own bed, was Sakura’s hairbrush, nestled between her pillow and sheets.

Time and space froze for Sakura.

“What a strange place to find a hairbrush. It should be put away in the proper place at night, shouldn’t it? To avoid causing future problems? Wouldn’t you say, Sakura darling?” enunciated Mebuki clearly.

“Yes, Mama,” breathed Sakura, trembling faintly.

“Well, good thing we found it together, then, hm?”

“Yes, Mama,” croaked Sakura, face flaming.

“That’s my girl,” said Mebuki, patting Sakura’s hair and leaving Keiko-san and Sakura alone again.

Sakura had never identified more with Lord Uchiha Tajima in her life than she did in that singular moment.

“Sakura-san, your mother is breathtakingly terrifying,” whispered Keiko-san in awe.

Shaking off the shiver between her shoulder blades, Sakura very carefully packed her hairbrush in her bag. Her mother had taught her a lesson she would never forget.

###

(Later, Madara would laugh when Sakura explained what happened. “She’s exquisitely cunning,” he said appreciatively. “Would she consider working for me?” “Never.” “Pity.”)

###

To Sakura’s surprise, Tajima met them at the train station when they arrived. His hands clasped behind him, he observed their descent from the train, even offering a hand to each of Sakura, Mebuki and Keiko-san.

When everyone had assembled and the train station staff saw to their luggage, assisted by the Uchiha-liveried porters, Tajima turned to his son.

Madara nodded and turned to Sakura’s parents.

Sakura’s blood slowed and for a moment she feared her heart stopped.

Madara stepped forward and turned to Sakura, reaching for her.

Now—but they hadn’t talked about when—

“Haruno Kizashi and Mebuki. Your precious daughter and I have known each other for many years and I swear that no one has ever meant as much to me as she does,” began Madara. “I respect your daughter and will provide her with shelter, safety, and love for the rest of our days. After seeing the property I intend to provide her as a wedding gift, may I please beg your permission, and blessing, to marry Sakura-san?” stated Madara, holding Sakura’s hand.

Their hands shook, but Sakura prayed no one else could tell.

Wait—Sakura’s mouth went dry as his words registered.

Property… wedding gift… to her…

He was giving her his mother’s house.

Suddenly dizzy, Sakura looked between Madara’s confident calm and her parents… her parents’ watering eyes?

“You have our blessing, son,” said Kizashi, sniffling. He accepted the handkerchief Tajima, equally misty eyed, offered him.

“Mama?” whispered Sakura hopefully.

“Of course you have my blessing, too,” said Mebuki, wrapping her arms around both Sakura and Madara.

Shaking now, Sakura embraced her mother and Madara, too.

“We’ll make the formal announcement at his next birthday, in December,” said Tajima, reaching forward to shake Kizashi’s hand.

Kizashi, however, threw his hands around Tajima and began bawling.

“My b-b-baby i-is growing up,” wailed Kizashi, snorting into Tajima’s formal suit.

Shoulders sagging, Tajima just patted his best friend on the back. “I’m finally getting a daughter,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, as he looked at Sakura.

Sakura met his gaze and gave him a watery smile and nod.

—which was when Tajima burst into tears.

“Everyone, let’s get in the motorcars,” suggested Keiko-san pleasantly, joining in now that the formalities were complete. She ushered their group along to the waiting motorcade. “There we go, this way, Sirs, you’ll need to let each other—nevermind, just hug it out, that’s it, in you go…”

Keiko-san was getting a raise the moment Sakura accessed her pending allowance, Sakura decided.

With the adults so wrapped up in their emotions, no one noticed—except perhaps Keiko-san, who winked at Sakura before driving off with her mother and Hashirama—that Sakura and Madara were left on their own at the train station with the final car in the motorcade.

“Master, My Lady,” said the chauffeur, holding open the doors for the young couple.

“After you,” said Madara, holding Sakura’s hand as she stepped up. He followed her confidently inside. The car pulled away from the curb and they stared at each other.

“It’s really happening,” said Madara.

“It’s really happening,” repeated Sakura incredulously.

“Though there’s one more formality,” said Madara. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another small wooden box, one encrusted with tiny, fine gems in the outline of the Uchiha family crest, the uchiwa fan. He slid from the seat onto the floor, on one knee.

Her heart in her throat, Sakura leaned forward, reaching for Madara, and he took her hand.

“Sakura Haruno,” said Madara, voice thick. “Would you do me the eternal honour of being the greatest part, the fiercest part, the strongest part… of my heart… in sickness and health, in calm seas and adversity, as my loving wife, to the end of our days, as long as we both shall live, and into the ever after if it exists?” He swallowed. “Because I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Me, too,” said Sakura, nodding, happy tears running freely down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes! I love you, Madara.”

“Finally, you say my name,” he teased, catching her in his arms as they laughed and cried together, finally, truly, openly in love.

Madara slid his mother’s ring on Sakura’s finger, and the key to his mother’s home in her bag, and another kanzashi in her hair, to match the ring.

When they arrived at the Uchiha estate, hand in hand, Keiko-san opened the door to them and they were met with the entire staff, the Harunos, all Madara’s brothers and family, staring them down.

“... she said yes, of course,” snapped Madara haughtily.

Sakura lifted her hand to show off the ring, biting her lip and grinning ear to ear.

The house erupted in cheers, applause, and wolf-whistles as Sakura turned to kiss Madara.

Poppers went off and they were showered in confetti, followed immediately by a party that went on all night.

TBC