Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

“We’re just too different, Ino,” Sakura stated simply. “There’s nothing that would attract him more to me than to you. We’re just different.”

Ino glared vehemently at her best friend. “Oh, really, Forehead? Then why does Sasuke-kun hang out more with you than with me?”

Sakura looked at Ino with innocent eyes, trying to pretend that she really had anything on the beautiful blonde. Ino’s glare intensified and Sakura wanted to laugh, but the truth behind the situation caused her to frown instead. “If you must know,” she said glumly, no longer relishing her success at having spent more time with Uchiha Sasuke than Ino recently, “We’ve been assigned together as partners for tomorrow’s mock trial in Law & Economics. The only reason he agreed to be my partner is because I have the best grades in the class and his relative, some great-great uncle or something like that is coming to grade the class efforts. Whoever wins this contest gets an internship at the Senju & Uchiha law firm.”

Ino just about glowed with glee at her friend’s admission, but then quickly stopped herself in suspicion. “Who gets the job? Both of you?”

Sakura sighed wearily. “I don’t know, Ino. I don’t really care. You know my field is science, not law. I’m just helping a friend.” It’s too bad that’s all he is and all he ever will be. She couldn’t hide the look of disappointment on her face.

Ino, temporarily losing her triumphant expression, patted Sakura on the shoulder. “Hey. It just makes the playing field a bit more even, now that Sasuke-kun’s spending more time with you. If he wasn’t, he’d be spending all his time staring at me and you wouldn’t get any attention at all.”

Sakura bristled at the playful comment and Ino, seeing that her friend had risen to the bait, took off running with Sakura hot on her heels.

“I’m gonna kill you, Ino!”

They ran from the wooden bench placed in the front of Konoha College. Somehow Yamanaka Ino managed to run obscenely fast in her 5-inch heels and Haruno Sakura couldn’t catch up with her even though she was wearing flats.

“Get back here, Pig!” she growled, loudly enough for Ino to hear her.

“Fat chance, Forehead!”

After a long, dogged run, Ino slowed and Sakura nearly collided into her. At Ino’s sudden stop, Sakura looked at her questioningly.

The blonde shrugged and flipped a strand of loose hair over her shoulder. “I have class with Sasuke-kun next. Wouldn’t want to mess up my makeup with all that sweat.”

Sakura frowned at her. “Since when do you have class with him?” she demanded.

Ino all but preened. “Since I was too smart for English IV and got transferred to Honors.”

“Since when were you too smart for anything?” Sakura grumbled.

“Hey! Just ‘cause I’m good at Foreign Language doesn’t mean you have to knock me!”

The pink-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“So, you wanna get some lunch?”

Sakura nodded her consent. “Sure.”

They fell into step and walked in companionable silence. Sakura mused back on her friendship/rivalry with Ino. They had been friends since early on, when Ino had decided to befriend her in elementary school, to the shock and horror of her popular friends. Sakura had been bullied because of her large forehead—which, miraculously, she’d grown into during puberty—and had had no friends at the time. For whatever reason that still eluded her to this day, Ino had one day sat down next to her at lunch. From then on they’d been fast friends and soon after, best friends. Ino maintained her popularity and although the social status wasn’t contagious, Sakura wasn’t picked on anymore with Ino at her side. However, much to Sakura’s chagrin, Ino had given her the nickname ‘Forehead’ after they’d grown close enough. It was a term of endearment, but Sakura wasn’t to be bested and had soon started calling her Ino-pig, after her namesake.

They were close, and Sakura was grateful to her. They never talked about it, but without Ino’s friendship and consequent protection, Sakura wasn’t sure if she would have made it through middle school. High school hadn’t been that bad, comparatively.

“Hey, let’s go to that great café across the street! I wanna know more about your project with Sasuke-kun, anyways.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, but she understood Ino’s interest. If Ino had a project with Sasuke, Sakura would want to know, too.

They soon arrived and ordered their food, and then went to find a seat on the outside patio. It was warm for a day in early February, but no one was complaining.

“So, what’s it about?” Ino asked, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“We have to solve this criminal case and provide questions we’d ask the criminal, which Umino-sensei will respond to. We then get graded on by our answers and whether we can solve the case and provide sufficient evidence to win, which I guess Sasuke’s relative is there for.”

“He’s there because he works at Senju & Uchiha, right?”

“Yeah, and he’s a lawyer, so he’d know if it’s in the ballpark of convincing a judge or a jury.”

“Ah. And so…if you do well enough, you get to work at his company? You know, I think I heard my tou-san talking about them the other day. Apparently, the son of Sabaku Rasa—you know, the Prime Minister’s cousin or whatever—he murdered his uncle, and Uchiha Madara is going to be his defense lawyer. Can you imagine how much money that guy must make?”

Sakura frowned, but nodded. “Wow. I heard about that happening…but do you think this Uchiha Madara is going to be the one who comes to my class? I mean, he must be so busy, if he’s working with high-profile people like that…”

Ino’s brow furrowed. “And someone in your class is getting a chance to work at Senju & Uchiha? Damn, that’s lucky.”

“It’s only an internship, but yeah. I don’t want it, but I know Sasuke-kun does. He really admires his great-uncle or whatever—and who knows? That might be Madara. Sasuke-kun’s great-uncle is like one of the top lawyers in Tokyo.”

Ino’s eyebrows raised. “I wonder if he’s got those amazing Uchiha genes…I mean, have you seen Sasuke’s parents?” Her baby blue eyes glittered with interest. “Chances are, Uchiha-san’s going to be super-hot.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Stop being a perv. He’s probably like sixty.”

The blonde shrugged, completely blasé. “Oh, whatever…Just eat your food, Forehead.”

“Wait…you didn’t order anything!” Sakura couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed and she hated to be the only one eating—it made her feel fat.

Ino smirked triumphantly. “I’m on a diet.”

Uchiha Madara sat in his office at Senju & Uchiha, Attorneys at Law. In front of him sat two men: on the left, the crassest, rudest, most violent man he had ever met, and on the right, a quiet, stoic man with a penchant for piercings and a taste for world peace. This man’s ideas for world peace were not, however, what the grand majority of the public would find palatable. Atomic weaponry, a culling of the inferior and unworthy, and a singular world government with him playing God was the general gist of the plan.

Needless to say, he had not forgotten the United States’ display of raw power in the tragedy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, nor did he appreciate the numerous American army bases scattered throughout Japan, despite the fact that the former was much before his time.

Madara sympathized, as there had been a large Uchiha clan faction living in Hiroshima when the bomb struck. The clan had almost been wiped out before the head’s family—Madara’s grandfather, grandmother, and their son Tajima, who was his father—had relocated to Tokyo in order to escape radiation poisoning. Madara had been unaffected, but his younger brother, Izuna, had been born with defective eyes. Medication and numerous surgeries had slowed the loss of his eyesight, but eventually he would go blind. His father had died relatively young—forty-eight years old—due to cancer, and they had been raised by their mother, who had died five years ago. Madara had been groomed and bred for clan leadership, and had become clan head as soon as he turned of age. Some wondered how he had come out totally unscathed with his father born shortly after Hiroshima—after all, Izuna certainly had been affected—but Madara considered his ‘blessing’ a factor of simple genetics.

That was not to say he looked down on his brother. He loved Izuna immensely.

“We came to you because we knew you felt as we did,” the man to his right, Nagato, was saying. It interrupted his private thoughts, but Madara wasn’t complaining. This was business.

Pein was Nagato’s moniker and how he was known to most, especially in the underworld where his plans for world domination thrived, but Madara would only accept legal names. After all, he worked with the law extensively, and if he would be bringing this to a court room, he certainly wouldn’t be addressing the man as “Pein”.

“If you are attempting to make me reduce the fee for my services, I’m afraid you’ll find yourself disappointed,” Madara interjected calmly.

“What the fuck?” demanded Hidan, the man to his left, who was seeking his services because he was suspected of being involved with a string of murders—specifically, human sacrifices. Nagato was acting as a liaison—there was no official connection, but it was no secret in the underworld that Hidan worked for him—and there was an official escort waiting just outside the room. He wasn’t convicted yet, and there was a chance that the evidence could be turned on its head, which was why Madara was even bothering with this in the first place. “Kakuzu’s going to fucking maim me for this! Fuck, you bastard, just lower your price by a fucking zero and we’ll call it cool!”

Madara sat coolly in his office chair and did not pay attention to the lowly miscreant, barely glancing at him as he went on his tirade. However, Nagato was perceptive and quickly shut Hidan up—he knew that Madara’s patience was limited.

Hidan reluctantly quieted and Nagato went on. “We would be indebted to you,” Nagato said. “All I ask is a ten percent reduction.”

Madara contemplated this. Nagato was a powerful man in the underworld and certainly an ally he could benefit from having. With the younger man’s firepower and the connections that he himself had, Madara would certainly be in an advantageous position.

“You’re aware that I do not have the same goals as you,” he told Nagato. “I benefit greatly from the status quo, in fact.”

“And you would benefit just as greatly when our plans come to fruition,” Nagato replied confidently.

Madara’s facial expression remained neutral, but he did think that Nagato’s confidence was more arrogance than anything. To truly believe one could take over the world…with a collective one hundred and ninety-six countries against him and not a single one on his side, it was highly unlikely, especially with world superpower and hallway monitor America right on their doorstep.

Either way, he could see a use for Nagato’s indebtedness, even though it had nothing to do with his success in taking over the world. After a long moment, he counteroffered.

“Five percent for a partnership, and five percent for one unnamed favor.” Madara had no idea what this favor would entail, but there was never a downside to having that kind of power over someone.

Nagato’s brow furrowed. He understood the implications just as well as Madara did—it was not actually worth only ten percent, as Nagato had been aiming for a partnership in the first place. Ten percent would mean absolutely nothing if Madara was going to ask him to assassinate the Prime Minister.

…Although technically, that would be in line with Nagato’s goals. That was beside the point.

“Come on, man,” Hidan whined. Nagato shot a hard glare in the silver-haired man’s direction and Hidan immediately shut up. Hidan was more brawn than brain and obviously didn’t see the possibilities behind Madara’s request.

After a long moment, Nagato said, “The unnamed favor will be negotiable.”

Madara nodded. He had expected as much. If Nagato had agreed without such terms being established, he would be a fool. “Agreed. You will pay ninety percent, then.”

Hidan whooped most unprofessionally and Nagato’s left eye twitched, the only sign of his irritation.

Madara continued. “Now, then, let’s proceed…”

Chapter Text

It was a major headache, Uchiha Madara concluded, to even have considered going to his great-nephew’s college for this ridiculous display of lack in court experience. However, Hashirama, who he begrudgingly respected, had told him it would be good for publicity and Tobirama had urged him to do so. Two always outvoted one, which usually benefited him, but when he found himself on the losing team, he made sure he didn’t agree without compensation. Hashirama was too soft to deny him, as usual. He had told Hashirama that he would receive the next high-profile case that came to them, which turned out to be Sabaku Gaara’s murder case. His firm partner had frowned at the time, as it was technically supposed to be up to the client, but Madara was renowned enough that it would likely not make much of a difference.

It hadn’t.

Madara felt that his little victory hadn’t exactly been hard won, so he had pushed for two weeks off from work and delegated a lesser case to Tobirama. This had caused an uproar, as Tobirama and he had always been at odds, but Hashirama had quickly quelled his younger brother’s protests. Madara had felt liberated to walk away from that fight, knowing that Hashirama would take his side, as he usually did. The man called Madara his best friend, and while Madara wouldn’t deny that he was fond of the Senju, he would deem that title too sentimental for his tastes. He still wasn’t exactly sure why they were so keen on the class visit—then again, student interns were good for the firm and this proved a way to weed out the incompetent ones.

He had gracefully pointed out to Hashirama, when all this was started and their flimsy reasoning brought up, that all of the students might be incompetent and they would just be picking the smartest of the idiots.

Hashirama had scolded him for his insensitivity, but Madara had been unrepentant. Finally, Hashirama had given in, as long as Madara followed through with his part.

He’d scoffed. Once he decided upon something, he never failed to make it happen.

Frowning, Madara finished tying his tie and then headed for the black Lamborghini, which was parked and running in the driveway, thanks to Izuna prompting their help to start it. Izuna’s eyesight deterioration had taken another turn for the worse and now he could mostly only make out blurry, large shapes such as buildings and vehicles, and then only their size and color. He could see a person’s outline, but Izuna had to recognize them with his other senses, such as hearing and smell. Doctors were still working diligently to find a way to permanently halt the deterioration, but progress was slow.

Due to his life-long disability, Izuna lived next door to him in a house specifically built for the sight-impaired. It allowed him to live on his own safely and securely, but Izuna couldn’t help but try to make himself useful anyway, which was why he always did what he could to help his brother with the little things—such as getting Madara’s car started for him.

 “Good-bye, aniki,” Izuna called, hearing Madara exit the house. He was sitting outside on his front porch, reading a brail form of the Tokyo Times and sipping from a bottle of Ramune. Madara saw the bottle and rolled his eyes fondly. Trust Izuna to drink a commoner’s soda.

“Good-bye, Izuna.”

Madara frowned once in the car, his mood sour. He pulled out of the driveway to head to the college, taking his time as he drove. He was in no hurry. Konoha College was a smaller college for upper high school. Most of the students there would be at least eighteen, so at least he wouldn’t have to worry about any incredible amounts of annoying immaturity.

Frown deepening, his thoughts darkened as he remembered that he’d forgotten to call Suzuki Miya for a date after this ‘business endeavor,’ as Hashirama had put it. Stress tended to put Madara in a highly sexual mood. From his traditional upbringing in the Uchiha compound, he had learned a sort of misogyny from an early age. Women were utensils—delicate, beautiful utensils to perform specific tasks.

In most developed countries these days, it wasn’t so—women went to work and raised a family at the same time. But Madara preferred the docile woman, who would cook and clean, wait on him hand and foot and please him whenever he was in the mood. Suzuki Miya was one of these women, but she was sadly too old for his tastes and at the relatively young age of thirty-nine, he felt he should still have time in choosing a wife and preferably one that was young. Miya was forty-four and while it wasn’t outright obvious, her age would show soon enough and then he’d be stuck with an ugly old gold-digger for a life partner, and that was not what he was searching for.

No, his playtime was not over yet. But Miya did give good massages and had plenty of experience in bed, so she was suited for a quick fuck well enough.

Nonetheless, Miya usually required a day’s advance because she had a niece who she often took care of and the older woman was very devoted to children. Another thing he didn’t like, want, or need: children. He was almost positive Miya would be hell-bent on having one with him come the opportunity.

She was too old, though, he comforted himself. Menopause would start soon, and then she wouldn’t be able to get pregnant and they could lose the stupid condom.

Then again, would he even want to sleep with a woman that old?

Glancing at his GPS, Madara found he was just about at the college. Inhaling deeply, he mentally prepared himself to choose the best dunce of them all—at least, if Sasuke didn’t prove himself to be proficient enough—and be on his merry way.

Sakura couldn’t help but feel nervous. They were in a larger classroom designated for things such as this trial. She frowned, glancing at Sasuke, who looked at her expectantly. She handed him his portion of the project. While she had easily worked harder on it than he had, she was happy to let him bask in the glory of her work. She was busy enough—this would keep Sasuke happy, hopefully get her brownie points, and she’d definitely get a good grade. Sakura had kicked ass at this project, she knew, and she was happy to show it off in a presentation.

The class waited patiently for Uchiha Madara to arrive, the relative Sasuke spoke so highly of. Upon realizing just who would be presenting to the class, Sakura had at first been intimidated. Then she realized that being intimidated in front of an Uchiha would be like bleeding in shark-infested waters; any Uchiha worth their salt could sense that kind of thing intuitively, it seemed. So she had let go of that fear and called on her resolve—it was just a presentation, after all. The only person she truly needed to impress was her teacher.

Sakura rested her head in her hands impatiently. She had other homework, damnit, which she’d skimped on to help Sasuke with this project! She could feel the headache coming on. She still had a chemistry worksheet, a pre-calculus test review, a research paper for Economics…

“Sakura,” Sasuke said, nudging her. It was almost directly after the door to the classroom opened. “He’s here. Look a little more excited.”

Sakura shot Sasuke a you’re-telling-me-to-look-excited glare before glancing at the front of the classroom.

She almost immediately rolled her eyes.

He was handsome, certainly—flawlessly so. Signature Uchiha, right there—he could have been the clan’s trademark, with his long dark hair and inky black eyes. He was tall, older, well-built in that he obviously cared about his looks, and from the muscular biceps shown off through his tailored suit, she could tell that he probably worked out, too. He was certainly aesthetically attractive, but Sakura herself did not actually feel attracted to him.

It might have had to do with the fact that Sasuke sat right next to her and she was still too infatuated with him to really care about anyone else, or perhaps it concerned her that the man was very nearly in his forties, if he wasn’t there already, and she had no interest in lusting after someone over twice her age. Sakura had never been one to be ruled by lust or attraction—at least, not for anybody other than Sasuke.

Gross, was her immediate thought. She watched Madara’s eyes travel across the room, calculating, assessing, determining something. With her observant nature she noted how his eyes lingered on some of the more attractive females in the room—Midori Saya and Kuzuki Izori, to name the most sought-after.

Sakura noticed with slight disgust that the older girls were eyeing him right back.

Her eyes shifted from Izori’s face and she immediately found him looking directly at her. She froze like a deer in the headlights and somehow she knew that he knew she’d been watching him.

Madara smirked fractionally before his eyes shifted from her and he continued his assessment of the classroom.

For some reason the way he’d looked at her made her very uncomfortable. It wasn’t the smirk, although that certainly hadn’t helped, so much as how deep his eyes were. There were fathoms of knowledge behind them, and for a second, Sakura just wanted to pry open his brain and drain all the wisdom out of him. She could see the intellect deep within his eyes.

It was aweing and frightening at the same time. This was a man who had seen things, done things, and knew how the world worked. He wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. At that thought, a light shiver crawled up her spine, and she quickly looked down at her desk.

 “Aburame-san and Hyuuga-san, please come forth to present your case.”

Sakura distracted herself by looking on at the spectacle before her as her classmates Shino and Hinata took the stage.

Chapter Text

It was half-time—the students were on break, as this class was taking up a double-period—and Madara was already exhausted.

He had been mostly right about his suspicions. Other than his great-nephew Sasuke and his partner, Haruno Sakura, the entire thing had been an absolute bore. He hadn’t been aware that Sasuke knew so much about the forensics of the pseudo-case. When he’d concluded that the killer’s modus operandi hadn’t actually been the knife but the poison, Madara had actually been impressed. It would have normally been a difficult case to solve, but knowing the killer’s M.O. had made the ‘questioning’ easier and more fruitful when exercised.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sasuke and the girl, Sakura, arguing vehemently about something. The girl was getting red in the face and looked about to commit murder and Sasuke actually looked perturbed. Knowing his great-nephew, Sasuke getting riled up about anything wasn’t a frequent occurrence and Madara found himself interested in knowing what they were talking about. Madara began to approach them quietly, knowing that the moment he registered in sight Sasuke would clean up his act to impress him.

“You presented it all wrong,” Sakura reprimanded, folding her arms over her chest. “You even said the poison’s name wrong. You’re lucky nobody noticed.”

Madara smirked and paused. What was this?

“It’s not my fault you handed me the hardest part of the case,” Sasuke snapped, uncharacteristically showing anger. “How am I supposed to know those damned Latin phrases?”

Sakura snorted. “Like modus operandi? Look, Sasuke-kun, this is a BIG world we live in. It has BIG, non-Japanese words!” Her eyes comically widened as she mocked him. “Ooh, look, I’ve never see anything as big as planet Earth!” She pointed skywards, making her point.

Madara chuckled to himself, not happy that Sasuke had obviously not done much of the work, but certainly amused by Sakura’s harsh teasing. He watched them, from afar, and took note of Sakura with new interest. He’d caught her staring at him earlier, so he was almost certain she was interested in him, but as she had a less-than-ample chest and he was certainly an admirer of large breasts, he had overlooked her. Now, she struck him in a new light.

Outweighing the factor of large breasts, he found himself interested in the little spitfire that she was…

“Sakura, seriously. Cut it out.”

When Sasuke looked actually hurt, Sakura softened. “I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun. I just wanted to make sure you got the big part so you could impress—”

“Hello, Sasuke-kun,” Madara decided to greet casually, as though he hadn’t heard the entire conversation. He pretended not to notice Sakura, curious as to what her reaction at being ignored by him was.

“Hello, Madara-sama,” Sasuke said politely. When Sakura said nothing, Madara glanced in her direction, secretly disappointed. She should have at least tried to say something. He wanted to see more of her personality—not only was it an amusing pastime, but for some reason, despite his innate dislike for all things feminist, her strong character found appreciation somewhere within him.

However, Sakura was scanning the crowds, possibly looking for a way out of a potentially awkward situation. She apparently felt his eyes on her, because she looked over at him, made eye contact, and then before she gave any other response, her eyes fell away from him and she left, waving to a friend.

Madara’s face quirked into a deep, momentary frown before he relaxed his facial features and focused on whatever Sasuke was saying. He didn’t particularly care; Sakura’s casual rebuff had bothered him more than he would like to admit.

Deep within himself, he felt something foreign stirring. It was unidentifiable, but elicited strong feelings of possessiveness towards…somebody. He wasn’t sure who, or why this feeling was coming up.

Nodding at Sasuke even though he was distracted by thoughts of this strange feeling, Madara tried to pay attention his great-nephew. He found himself glancing in Sakura’s direction, where she was speaking angrily with a tall, buxom, incredibly attractive blonde. When his eyes strayed to the pinkette instead of settling on the clearly more attractive of the two, the possessiveness pulsed strongly. He narrowed his eyes at her, watching her excited hand motions and fiery demeanor.

It irritated him when he recognized the feeling. When he’d been thinking about young earlier, he’d meant more so in the mid-to-late twenties range. Not barely twenty, if even that.

Strangely enough, it didn’t seem to bother him as much as it should have.

“I’m sorry, Ino, but Sasuke-kun’s probably gay for his uncle or whatever,” Sakura spat. “He’s absolutely obsessed with getting on his good side, and when I corrected him on his mistakes in the case presentation, he got all pissy and defensive!”

Ino frowned, disturbed by the news, but replied anyway, “Well, you were kind of reaming him out. I saw a little bit of it.”

Sakura deflated, acknowledging on some level that her friend was right. “I guess. But seriously. I think he’s into his uncle.” This caused Sakura to laugh. It was somewhat forced, but when Ino laughed as well, the humor in it became real.

“I don’t know, Sakura,” Ino said after they had calmed down. “It doesn’t seem like Sasuke-kun’s like that…”

“He does have the girly hair though. How on earth does he get it like that?”

“It’s natural,” came the cold, decidedly male response.

Sakura, who had her back to the owner of the voice, froze, and seeing Ino’s look of despair and anger, knew exactly who it was.

Turning around slowly, Sakura couldn’t stop herself from wincing. It was Sasuke, just as the voice had portrayed, with Madara standing a few feet behind him and looking on with vague interest.

“Do you have anything else to say about me behind my back?” Sasuke demanded. He sounded even angrier than he had when Sakura was reprimanding him.

Sakura cringed at the anger in his voice. Ino would probably slink away soon and let her face the brunt of whatever was coming next, but surprisingly enough, the blonde stood up for her.

“I don’t think you honestly want to hear it, so no, we don’t.”

Sakura’s eyes widened comically at Ino’s careless remark. Didn’t she care about Sasuke’s affection? This would be a moot contest if she went around talking to him like that!

And then she noticed Ino eyeing Madara.

Sakura couldn’t help but stiffen in irritation.

He wasn’t that attractive! Then again, Ino typically went for older guys, but seriously? This one? He wasn’t in his mid- or late-twenties—he was old enough to be Sasuke’s father! Yes, power, riches, and fame were attractive to someone like Ino, but weren’t there better options who weren’t him?

She took a moment to realize that for some reason, she didn’t like the older Uchiha. She didn’t know why, but she was certain that he had somehow rubbed her the wrong way. She wasn’t even sure when it had happened.

Sakura took a deep breath, readying herself to say something, when Madara spoke.

“While that may be true, I believe an apology is at hand.” He looked at her pointedly.

Sakura frowned, but at least she now had justification to not like him. She wanted to refuse, but he was technically her superior and she had already acted meanly enough. If she didn’t want to totally alienate Sasuke, she supposed she didn’t really have a choice. A frown marring her features, Sakura ground out reluctantly, “I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke said nothing back and turned to Madara. “Can we go now? I told you, girls are nothing but trouble.”

Ino gasped in indignation while Sakura snorted. She turned to Ino. “Guess who was right?”

The blonde nodded at Sakura resolutely. “Yeah, I suppose you were.” She took a long look at Madara again before shrugging. “Hey, class is about to start. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Call me!”

Sakura waved, ignoring the two men who hadn’t left yet. She wasn’t sure if she should excuse herself or if she should just wait for them to leave.

A cell phone went off and since she didn’t recognize it as her ring tone or Sasuke’s, she knew from its proximity that it had to be Madara’s. She sighed, snuck a peek at Sasuke, who wasn’t paying any attention to her, and then began to walk away.

“Sakura-san, wait.”

It was Madara. She stopped, pausing in her gait politely. She kept trying to instill in herself that she needed to be respectful to this man, even though he didn’t really command any from her naturally, what with the way he was using her given name even though they barely knew each other and the fact that she didn’t even like him in the first place. However, not liking someone didn’t mean one could disrespect them, and the Senju & Uchiha law firm was an established, well-respected firm. Making any enemies in the business world wasn’t exactly high on her to-do list.

She turned around when Madara said nothing in her direction, instead answering his phone. She averted her eyes but frowned, trying to remain patient. Today had been bad overall—she had hurt and angered Sasuke, been ‘put in her place’ in front of him by his great-uncle, and she still had tons of homework to do when she got home. All Sakura was looking forward to going home and falling asleep. She was smart, so she could probably take this one day off from homework… All she had to do was sit through the rest of the mock trials and then she was free to go. This was her last class of the day and it was Friday. She could do whatever the hell she liked.

Annoyed with waiting when the conversation seemed to drag on, she began to walk back to the classroom. This was prompted by noticing that Sasuke had already left to go back as well. Madara, however, caught her on her shoulder as she passed him, causing her to whirl around with barely-suppressed anger.

It seemed like he was just finishing up the conversation now that she had decided to leave, which annoyed her greatly. He hung up the phone casually, as though he hadn’t just been incredibly rude, and then pinned her with his eyes in such a way that made Sakura’s skin crawl.

“You did well with figuring out the modus operandi of the criminal,” he said lightly.

Sakura nodded slowly, not understanding why this was important.

He continued. “It was also admirable that you gave the credit to Sasuke. Why did you do that?” He seemed genuinely curious, which softened Sakura’s attitude slightly. It had definitely alienated him from her when he had forced her to apologize to Sasuke, and even though he was petting her ego completely unsubtly, it was enough to give her the motivation to at least reply.

Still, she was hesitant to respond too honestly. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. “I’m getting the best grades in the class. Sasuke needed the help, so I figured it would benefit both of us if he got the bigger part. I did a lot of the work behind the scenes.” She kept her tone even and unassuming.

“So it had nothing to do with my presence?”

Sakura frowned. How had he known? It possibly could just be arrogance—the Uchiha clan had that in spades—but the way he said it was too knowing, too confident. He had to be awfully perceptive to figure that out, which wasn’t unlikely, but still…

She remembered her and Sasuke’s conversation earlier, and how he’d interrupted her speech. Of course; why was she even surprised that he had eavesdropped? Still, though, it was terribly uncouth.

Smiling saccharinely to hide her annoyance, Sakura shook her head. “No. Sasuke-kun likes you a lot, but it had nothing to do with you being here today.”

She made the brave gesture of looking him in the eye. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence, as she saw how he frowned when they both knew that she had lied to him. As they made and held eye contact, Sakura suddenly felt truly intimidated for the first time. This man was much older and more powerful than her. She shouldn’t be disrespecting him the way she was. The way his eyes pierced her, searching for something, made Sakura extremely uncomfortable.

When what felt like much too long a time had passed, Sakura finally broke. “Well, I’ll see you in class,” she said shakily, averting her eyes. She bowed perfunctorily and then quickly turned away. Swallowing hard, Sakura continued on to the classroom, feeling his eyes on her back the entire time.

Chapter Text

Madara wouldn’t lie to himself and deny that he had been somewhat annoyed when Sakura had blatantly lied to him. However, he also couldn’t deny that Sakura had a certain air of confidence about her—not like some women, who were used to using their bodies to get what they wanted or were used to being in leadership positions, but rather a subtle confidence that led him to believe she was perfectly fine with who she was, and comfortable in her own skin.

The part of him that was determined to be honest was putting thoughts in his head about how much fun it would be if she were being her fiery little self in the bedroom, only for him to tame her, force her to do as he commanded. She might be resistant, but she would eventually give in, and the passion with which she fought him would turn into passion for their mutual pleasure.

He frowned as his cock twitched. He was absolutely regretting not calling Miya the night before. There was no way Sakura would willingly let him spend his sexual frustrations on her. He was smart enough to realize now that Sakura hadn’t been staring at him out of interest earlier; she had merely been observing him the way he had observed the class. Such maturity and insight on her part was also attractive. Not many girls her age or even women much older than her were smart enough to be perceptive like she was.

He shook his head to clear away the thoughts before proceeding back into the classroom, a few minutes late. However, it was his prerogative and he didn’t really care if the teacher got annoyed with him. To be frank, he knew he was too powerful for the teacher to not respect him and even more frankly, he didn’t really give a damn about this class or what the result of it would be. He would just choose Sasuke to work at the firm, as had pretty much been predetermined when he’d found out about Sasuke’s presence in the class, and leave the politics of it to Hashirama and Tobirama. There was no reason at all to deal with this anymore.

Of course, it meant he’d never see Sakura again, which, like the entire situation, bothered him more than it should have. He felt rather cheated that he’d met a female he was actually interested in but who was also someone he would never see again.

As the next pair for the mock-trial went up to the front, Madara settled his eyes on the two students but let his mind wander. He didn’t even pay attention to their names—they were unimportant at this point.

Inwardly he sighed, frustrated that this little pink-haired girl with stunning green eyes was getting to him so much. He’d known her less than four hours and she’d already weaseled her way into his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop fantasizing about what he’d do to her petite body. He couldn’t bring himself to care that she wasn’t as developed as he would have liked, even though her blonde friend had been—and this friend of hers was certainly interested in him from the way she had kept looking at him. But still, he couldn’t take his mind off the pinkette. Her friend was insignificant.

This wasn’t right—not that he cared much for social politics—but he, as Uchiha Madara, was not supposed to be susceptible to women. They were to come to him, not the other way around.

This was beyond ridiculous.

As he sat there stewing, a storm raging behind his eyes, he glanced at Sakura and found she was staring at him. An inner part of him leaped and he immediately quashed it, but as they made eye contact briefly until she deemed it suitable to turn away, Madara felt his attraction growing. She was so irresistibly intelligent. Instead of averting her eyes immediately, which would show guilt, she held his gaze for several seconds before ‘deciding’ that she’d looked at him long enough. He could tell that she was still afraid of him, as her eyes had suggested earlier, and so her intelligence was reflected in that she knew how to hide her fear by pretending that she was in charge. He smirked at the thought. She might not have been interested in him sexually, but she was curious and already trying to win the very real power struggles going on between them.

It was then that he suddenly came up with a brash decision that he was uncannily steadfast in. She was curious about him—which meant that she had some kind of emotion or agenda. He doubted it was an agenda, as she seemed rather innocent in the ways of scheming, so she felt something concerning him.

She was young and impressionable. His influence could go a long way into making her truly an adult woman, perhaps one that he would be interested for long-term—

He paused. No, he was getting too far ahead of himself. It was, of course, the time in his life where people typically had already stared their families and perhaps a part of him was curious about that, but he knew that he didn’t honestly want children. He wasn’t even sure he wanted a wife, but that would be expected of him as head of the Uchiha clan. Children were also obviously expected, but he wasn’t too concerned about getting out of that one. There were plenty of younger Uchiha who could take over the clan head position when the time came.

Still, though, thoughts of Sakura remained. The thought of her sprawled out on his bed, begging for him to enter her. The thought of her wanting his attention, rather than wandering off to see her friends. The thought of her completely surrendering to him, capitulating and catering to his every need. No, he could tell she wouldn’t like it—and that, for some reason, made the outcome all the more desirable.

He went back to his previous train of thought. He would choose her over Sasuke for the internship. No, Fugaku would not be happy, but he had valid reason to choose Sakura over Sasuke, the very beginning of which was to ask Sasuke to pronounce ‘modus operandi.’ Sakura had a valid point in her argument, one that he would now use against her.

He was sure that she wasn’t incredibly interested in the role of intern at Senju & Uchiha. But he had found over the years that he knew how to be incredibly convincing…

And besides, curiosity had a habit of killing cats and other unfortunate individuals who succumbed to it.

Weaving his fingers together, Madara rested his head on his hands, unable to stop himself from feeling rather accomplished.

 While his face hadn’t changed in expression once the entire time she had observed him, Sakura had been able to see a veritable war being raged behind Madara’s eyes.

She wasn’t sure what he was at war with himself about, but she was absolutely positive it didn’t concern her, so she decided not to care.

The final presentation had finished and Umino-sensei and Madara both stood at the same time. It looked coordinated, but as Iruka looked at his superior with mildly repressed shock, Madara was undisturbed by the fact that he was leaving early.

Iruka scrambled to say, “Thank you everyone! Uchiha-sama will be sending the selected student an e-mail concerning the internship, so—”

“I will speak to the selected student right now.” Madara interrupted him, acting completely oblivious to his impoliteness. Sakura scoffed inwardly. From what she’d observed, this Uchiha Madara was much more aware that he let on—and there was no mistaking Uchiha Madara for being unaware. “Umino-san, are there any empty classrooms I may use to brief the student on the internship?”

Iruka nodded quickly. “Yes, Uchiha-sama. Room 41A should be empty until about 3 P.M.”

Madara glanced at the clock. Sakura couldn’t stop herself from watching him. Despite the fact that she couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by him, he fascinated her.

“That gives us about fifteen minutes.” He sighed, sounding exasperated. “Alright. Haruno Sakura, please come with me.”

Sakura was shell-shocked, not standing up even after a minute of the results being announced. While she had been admittedly fascinated by Uchiha Madara, it hadn’t been in a let-me-see-you-every-day sense. In fact, if she had seen him on the street corner after school she wouldn’t have even given him a second glance.

Then there was the fact that Sasuke was glaring daggers at her, along with the hostile stares of a couple of other students who had wanted the position.

“What the hell did you and him talk about in the hallway?” Sasuke demanded quietly. Sakura blanched.

“I don’t—”

“Haruno-san.” She noticed he didn’t call her by her first name publicly, which she was thankful for. “I’m waiting.” This was true. Madara was already standing by the doorway, holding it open.

Iruka looked disgruntled. “Uchiha-sama, the other students weren’t supposed to know the results. I don’t want there to be any resentment in my—”

Madara shot Iruka a derisive look that said very clearly, ‘Shut up. I don’t give a damn.’

“Uchiha-sama,” Sakura said, standing and bowing apologetically. “I don’t think my schedule allows for—”

One look into Madara’s calm eyes, apathetic to her case and growing ever more impatient, Sakura closed her eyes, prayed for patience and then collected her things. She would explain things to him after they left class. No need to cause a scene.

I’ll fix this, she mouthed to Sasuke before she left. He rolled his eyes fractionally before turning his attention to Iruka, who was already beginning to lecture on the differences between healthy and unhealthy competition. Good on him for trying, but it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Sakura exhaled hard, thanking Madara quietly as she passed through the door he was holding open for her, and then flinched in her step at how loud the door had slammed behind them.

They arrived in 41A. Madara sat down at one of the desks and motioned for Sakura to sit next to him. Hesitantly, she placed her backpack down on the ground and then sat.

Before she could open her mouth to make excuses for why she couldn’t work as an intern, he cut her off.

“If you don’t take this offer, no one in your class will.” His tone was harsh at first, but then softened into the tone of someone who was giving advice. “It pays well and you have flexible hours, being a student. You’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.”

Sakura was looking at him with hardness in her eyes, obviously offended by the harshness of his tone and then the fact that he was implying she was an idiot, because she had already expressed that she didn’t intend to take this job offer.

“Uchiha-sama—”

“Madara,” he corrected.

“Madara-sama,” she continued respectfully, although she seemed a little wary at the name change. “I really don’t have the spare time to do this.” Sakura looked relieved that she’d actually gotten a full sentence out, but not for long. As soon as she opened her mouth again, Madara spoke once more.

“¥1800 per hour.”

Sakura’s mouth, which had been previously open, now gaped.

“You will also have paid sick days and benefits,” he continued. No, this hadn’t been a part of the deal—initially the student was to work for free as an intern, but Madara had just agreed to pay her over double Japan’s minimum wage.

He didn’t care. This was personal now, and when he wanted something, he would get it. Besides, she’d be working for him as a personal secretary, like an actual job—but he wouldn’t mention that until she accepted. He knew that with pay like that, she’d eventually put school to the back of her mind and be coming to work more and more often. He’d sate himself of her. Madara knew—hoped—that eventually, he’d solve the problem that was Sakura and then he could drop her like he was going to drop Miya someday. Women were fleeting, just like the pleasure that an orgasm brought. That was why it was important to have many.

 Sakura tried to grasp the number he’d just put in her head. She was nineteen years old, almost twenty and she’d be working for ¥1800.

Unbelievable.

Nonetheless, she knew it was obvious her will to say no was breaking. Sakura’s parents had never been very well-off, so the prospect of having some spending money was almost inconceivable.

Finally, she’d be able to keep up with Ino on shopping trips!

That was the thought that sealed it, but of course she was weighing college tuition as well in her mind. Tokyo University would be a viable option if she was able to juggle school and work appropriately, and—

“Sakura-san, are you going to keep me here all day?”

Despite Madara’s rudeness, he was smirking and it was obvious he knew she’d been swayed.

“I suppose I can’t really turn an offer like that down,” Sakura admitted. “It has to be part-time though. I can’t miss school.”

She couldn’t read Madara’s mind, but she could see he was triumphant about something. She couldn’t tell what, but she found herself just a little too curious and more than a little wary.

“Very well. Write down your e-mail address so I can send you your schedule. Your phone number as well, so that we can contact you.”

“Home or cell?” she asked, but felt it was dumb. Of course she’d give him her house phone, so she began to scribble down her family landline.

“Cell,” he said wearily, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Feeling even dumber, she hastily erased the home number and scribbled down her cell phone number.

After all was said and done and they were about to head out, Sakura couldn’t help but ask warily, “Can I ask you a question?”

Madara glanced at her from the corner of his eye as they left the classroom, just as several students were lining up against the outside wall, his expression unreadable. Even his eyes were masked. “Yes.”

“Why did you choose me? I mean, there are students a lot more interested in this than—”

“I only accept top-notch work, Sakura-san, and those who are team players. You will do fine at the firm. Sasuke is interested in the job—and the profession—for the money and especially the glory. You are not.”

With that, Madara stepped away from her and they parted ways, her mouth hanging open.

Chapter Text

It was early Monday morning and Sakura was awake at 5:30 A.M. and out the door by six, fully dressed and on her way to get coffee in the worst mood imaginable.

Monday wasn’t even a school day for her. So where was she going?

Work.

Madara had sent her an e-mail—a very distant, professional e-mail simply asking her about her school schedule—that was received by her inbox no more than fifteen minutes before she got home. As soon as she was home and it was marked as read, Sakura couldn’t help but feel that she was obligated to respond.

So she had, attaching a digital copy of her school schedule.

She had thought it was harmless to respond so quickly—helpful, even, because it would prepare her for whenever work started.

Sakura hadn’t, however, planned on Madara responding not even half an hour later to give her a semi-permanent work schedule for the next month. She hadn’t needed to do any math or calculations to realize that her social life had just gotten a lot less existent. She would have sent him back an email telling him that working every day except weekends and after school on days that she had it would be a problem, but unfortunately, the paycheck at the end of the month was a little too tempting.

Sakura was not greedy by any definition of the word, but seeing the secondary attached document that showed, in hard math, her income at the end of the month with taxes taken out, she had decided she could try it out. So, she’d agreed to give the first week a try. It didn’t occur to her that it was a little suspicious that he’d taken the time to try and convince her to agree; instead, she thought it very generous of him.

She was already hating herself and her decision.

Gripping her hot drink with way too much caffeine packed into its whole sixteen ounces, Sakura made her way to the front desk of Senju & Uchiha, where a woman who was way too cheerful for this hour of the day was sitting behind a neatly organized and ornately furnished desk.

The first level of the building was simple but spacious; the tile on the ground and walls was black speckled with olive green, gold, and navy blue flecks. There was a tall potted tree-like plant on either side of the desk, and Sakura could make out two elevators on the wall to her right. To her left was a window that took up the entire span of the wall, looking out to the busy street.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The woman had short brown hair and brown eyes, which were prettily made-up. Under the makeup, though, she could see the outline of two square purple marks on her cheeks. At first Sakura was alarmed and thought that they were bruises, but their sharp edges proved that they were just tattoos that were poorly covered up. Since tattoos were viciously frowned upon in Japan, Sakura thought that it probably had something to do with her heritage. The woman also wore a red long-sleeved V-neck shirt and what looked like a long black skirt. Sakura couldn’t fully tell because she wasn’t tall enough to see directly over the desk.

“I’m here because Uchiha-sama brought me on as the student intern,” she replied, not feeling comfortable calling him by his first name if he wasn’t there to demand it of her. Sakura didn’t want anybody getting the wrong idea about them.

She handed the woman—Nohara Rin, her nametag read—the paperwork Madara had sent her to sign and show to this very woman.  Rin skimmed over the signed documents and then nodded decisively.

“Alright, Haruno-san, I’ll get you a temporary badge until yours is made. You’re going to be heading up to Floor 12. Uchiha-sama’s office is 12C. He should already be up there. Thank Kami,” Rin said, a smile finding its way onto her face easily. “I hope you’re good, Haruno-san. Uchiha-sama’s needed some…assistance with file cabinet.” She winked and her voice lowered, “He’s good about it, I suppose, but there’s nothing a woman’s touch won’t help.”

Sakura hesitated, this entire situation suddenly feeling off. She’d read over the job description the night before, trying to mentally prepare herself for her first day on the job. It had said many things about what she’d be doing, but cleaning up Uchiha Madara’s files wasn’t one of them.

In fact, interacting at all with him after the mock trial hadn’t been one of them. Umino-sensei had warned the entire class that once the student was hired, they were most likely not going to see the person who had hired them, as Uchiha Madara was a very high-up individual.

She had understood at first that seeing him to check in was probably going to happen, but Rin implying that she would be working with him—or at least being in his presence—caught her off guard.

“Sorry, uh, Nohara-san?”

Rin nodded her head politely, motioning for Sakura to continue.

“So, I was, uh, supposed to be the student intern from Konoha College. It didn’t say anything on the description that I’d be doing much administrative work, or working with Uchiha-sama.”

Rin frowned, then glanced over the papers Sakura had signed the night before. Sakura waited patiently for her answer, but didn’t like it when she received a question to her question. “You didn’t read the contract before you filled it out?” There wasn’t disdain, but rather surprise in Rin’s voice.

Sakura furrowed her brow, feeling stupid. “I skimmed it,” she said quietly. It was true, she had, but a lot of the characters she hadn’t understood, and she really hadn’t thought it to be that important.

“It says you’re to be Uchiha-sama’s personal secretary,” Rin said pointedly. “It’s also very binding for a student internship.” She frowned as she glanced over the contract again.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Sakura asked, suddenly feeling extremely nervous and also a fair share of idiocy.

“You’re contracted for six months minimum, no loopholes,” Rin said, looking at Sakura skeptically.

Sakura’s mouth just about flew open, deeming it obvious that she really hadn’t read it very thoroughly.

“What?”

“You should probably go talk to your boss,” Rin said, still frowning. Sakura couldn’t tell if Rin was judging her poorly or uncertain about the implications of the document she held in her hands.

Sakura nodded, eyes hardening but not reflecting what was going on inside her head. She was terrified.

What had she gotten herself into?

Madara had expected Sakura at around seven-fifteen or so, as she was still a student and her schedule indicated that she probably wouldn’t be able to handle waking up and being there by six-thirty. So when his pink-haired beauty stormed through his door—without knocking, he noticed with a smirk—a few minutes before six-forty, he was pleasantly surprised.

He deduced almost immediately that Sakura hadn’t read the paperwork all the way through before she’d signed it, as he’d expected she wouldn’t, and that someone had most definitely informed her about what the paper had said exactly instead of what she had naively assumed it said.

Sakura took a deep, steadying breath, which seemed to calm her a bit. “I think you gave me the wrong paperwork to sign,” she said, her voice shaking—whether with fear or with anger he wasn’t quite able to discern. She was trying to hide her emotions and it was almost working.

“I don’t believe I did,” Madara said, his smirk widening at her trembling visage.

Sakura’s eyes hardened. “You must have. It says nothing about being an intern, according to Nohara-san, and that I’m contracted for six months to work with you—and no loopholes.”

Madara raised an eyebrow with mock concern. “You didn’t read it all the way through?”

Sakura reddened into a blush, but her eyes didn’t lose their hard edge. “Well, to be honest, I tried…the words were really complex and I wasn’t exactly familiar with a lot of the kanji, so I guessed that it was alright.” When Madara continued to look at her skeptically, she frowned. “Look, I was a little pressed for time, alright? I had lots of schoolwork thanks to Sasuke-kun and his botched attempt at getting this internship.”

“I think you mean job,” Madara corrected, his smirk never wavering.

Sakura frowned even more deeply. “You knew what it said,” she deadpanned.

At this, Madara’s eyes flashed. Her intelligence would most likely never fail to please him. “I wrote it myself.”

Her mouth hung open as she took in the implication of what he’d said. He could see the gears working at full speed, her mind trying to wrap itself around the situation. Her jaw worked for a few seconds without any words coming out before her expression took a turn for the worse and she surged forward, slamming her palms on the table. It was obvious she’d lost control of her temper.

“What game are you playing, Uchiha-sama?” she hissed.

“Madara,” he corrected, calm and unwavering. His eyes fastened on hers and she had no problem at first maintaining eye contact, but as their staring contest continued, she soon began to struggle to keep a firm grip on her temper and not let fear take over. He could see it behind her eyes’ hard glint; she was terrified of whatever game he was playing.

And what a glorious game it was.

Finally she slumped, anger exhausted and fear taking over. She averted her eyes and sat down in the chair she had forgone when she’d rushed by it to confront him.

“Can’t you just revoke the contract?” she asked, her tone desperate. “This wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“Yes, actually, it is,” Madara replied calmly, his eyes never leaving her heart-shaped face. He drank in every aspect of it: her cute, feminine nose, her pale pink lips, her round cheeks that perfectly accentuated the look in her fearful jade eyes.

Yes, she was certainly a beauty. Her body, while perhaps lacking compared to other women he’d had, was not at all lacking in his eyes. It was something he found himself mildly surprised at—he could sometimes forgo a less-than-perfect face if the body was superb, at least for a night. But with Sakura, she seemed to have the opposite effect. While she was by no means flat or a stick, her curves were gentler than his usual type and her breasts were small, although he could see their perkiness through the bra she was wearing. Her flaws were easily disregarded and he found her beautiful.

Funnily enough, he couldn’t remember thinking that about a woman, ever. There were many ways of describing an attractive woman, most of which he had used at one point or another in his lifetime. But beautiful? It usually held too much sentimental connotation for him to attach the word to a female. However, Sakura seemed to have no problem taking that title.

“When are you going to stop staring?” Sakura bit out, her face flushed.

Madara continued to let his eyes subtly undress her body while saying, “Whenever I feel like it.”

“I don’t know what’s going on in your dirty, perverted mind, but don’t think it will ever have anything to do with me.”

Madara finally glanced up at her eyes, more than a little surprised by her outburst. He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

Sakura scoffed, and he could tell that she was feeling more comfortable now that she thought she had the upper hand. “You think people don’t know about you? You, the head of the famous Uchiha clan, wouldn’t have rumors spread like wildfire every time you slept with a woman? Which, given your playboy status and the fact that you’re old,” she spat this and he narrowed his eyes at her disapprovingly, “would mean that your count can’t be under two hundred. Tell me, Uchiha-sama, how many people does it take to get an STD from?”

He was silent. It was quite interesting to listen to her tirade.

“It takes one,” she informed him, with some misguided sense of condescendence. “And in Japan, AIDS is at an all-time high. Did you know that? You’re probably HIV positive, so I would recommend getting tested.

“And with that said, I want you to take me off your payroll so I can get out of this office and never come back.”

Madara began to laugh, a genuine laugh that flustered and shocked Sakura simultaneously. He took his time recovering, letting her take in the fact that he found her thoughts on the entire matter humorous.

“Something funny?” Sakura finally asked, her voice venomous. However, Madara could tell that he’d rattled her by dismissing her with his amusement.

“It’s somewhat comical to me, Sakura-chan, that you believe everything you read in the celebrity newspapers,” he began, his eyes never hardening. He was going to show her how little he cared for her opinion.

Sakura reddened at his implication that she enjoyed gossip, but he raised his hand, stopping her from speaking.

“You were allowed to speak freely, so I’m afraid I must be allowed to do the same.” He looked at her intently and continued. “Since you are so obviously convinced that I’m what you say I am, I won’t try to convince you otherwise.” She seemed to be annoyed at this, as her brow furrowed. Perhaps she had hoped he would try to defend himself so that she could attempt to poke holes in his rebuttal. Unfortunately for her, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He had much more experience weaving and winning arguments than she had—there was no contest here. “However, I will let you know that I am, actually, HIV negative.” He felt this was important to tell her, given that she was going to be involved with him sexually, whether she knew it or not. “And clean of everything else you might hope to not find on the male anatomy.”

Sakura sniffed and turned her head. “Good for you.”

Madara smirked, continuing, “I might also add that as I wrote the contract, I have disallowed any and all loopholes. Including those I myself can create.”

Sakura paled, all the blood draining from her face. “You what?”

“It’s binding, my dear. You signed it.” He smirked. “I can’t fire you even if I wanted to.”

She looked like she was about to be sick. “You’re kidding,” she said weakly.

“That being said, I would be a little more careful of how you speak to your employers in the future.” At the gloating expression on his face, a sheen of tears glazed over her lovely, expressive eyes.

“I need to excuse myself.” She stood shakily, her body trembling.

Madara nodded, looking back down at the papers in front of him. While he was loathe to dismiss her, he knew that she was going to go cry in the bathroom. Good, he thought to himself. He would get to see more of the spitfire personality that had so captivated him just as soon as the tears ran out.

Sakura stared at her blotchy red face in the mirror of the ornate bathroom. She wasn’t a pretty crier, just like the rest of the human race—excepting Ino, who did everything beautifully—and so she had really and truly needed to excuse herself when she had been about to burst into tears.

She wondered, in her defeat, if Madara had ever cried in his entire life. No, she reminded herself, he just likes to make other people cry.

Her best and only option was to suck it up and try to survive the next six months.

Six whole months. Half of an entire year.

At least that meant her paycheck couldn’t be reduced, or at least she really and truly hoped not. Obviously it couldn’t go under minimum wage, but she’d agreed to the job for the money.

She regretted it so badly. Now she knew why he’d made the offer so tempting—he wasn’t planning on letting her out of it once she agreed. It all made sense now—the he’d insisted she take the job and how he’d bothered to do the math on her paycheck. It certainly hadn’t been borne of generosity.

Sakura wasn’t sure exactly how deep she was in, but she knew that whatever game Madara was playing was well beyond her league and her years. Whatever he was aiming for was bad and it needed to be avoided. She was hoping she was wrong, but there wasn’t much reason for an older male to go to so much trouble for a younger female other than sex. If he thought he could woo her, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

Trapping someone in a job they hadn’t even wanted wasn’t a very good start to any relationship, much less so when one’s goal was to get into the other person’s pants.

In the end, the only she thing could do was try to not let him get to her, evade whatever tactics he tried to use on her, and then pray that the job was over sooner rather than later. She was a smart girl and she knew she wouldn’t be fooled by his advances. No matter what happened, she could always say no. It wouldn’t go any further than that.

Heaving a sigh, she swallowed the lump in her throat and exited the bathroom.

The walk down the hallway back to his office was the longest walk of shame she’d ever endured. She couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve as to trust Madara. Uchiha Madara, the man who could spin a lie so many ways you would be certain it was the truth by the end of it, even if you knew it was false. After all, he was a defense lawyer—lying was his job.

Sakura hung her head in shame and quietly opened the door to his office, not bothering to knock. If passive-aggressiveness would make him miserable, good. He deserved it.

Madara didn’t pay attention to her at first, instead continuing to work on whatever paperwork he’d assigned himself. Sakura sat back down on the seat from which she had left to go cry, frowning with annoyance at the fact that he hadn’t given any sign that told her he noticed she had arrived. However, as he wasn’t assigning her any work, she took the liberty to simply sit there, more or less twiddling her thumbs. If he didn’t direct her, she certainly wasn’t going to direct herself.

It was a beautiful thing, this passive-aggression. He would really regret hiring her.

 He seemed to read her mind. “You know, you may not want this position, but you’ll be required to use me as a referral when you apply to future jobs as you have no other experience. That said, I would recommend you ask me what you can do.”

Madara didn’t once look up from his paperwork, but his words were clear. Help, or else. Sakura sat for a moment more, feeling weak. This was just too horrible.

Wearily, Sakura stood and went over to a file cabinet that looked much like Rin had described when they spoke. She pulled open one of the unlocked drawers, as a few were locked with a combination and keyhole. Just as she opened the drawer, Madara spoke up.

“I told you to ask me what to do,” he said firmly, still not looking up from his work. His pen hadn’t even stopped moving. It was like he had eyes in the back of his head.

Sakura glowered at him behind his back, not saying anything. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to him. It was just too demeaning; he was on a power trip. He just wanted control.

Standing angrily, Sakura walked back over to the chair she’d now claimed as her own and decided that two could play at this game.

“If you want me to ask, why don’t you acknowledge my presence first?”

She swore a smile ghosted over Madara’s lips, but she couldn’t be sure because he was still focusing on his paperwork. He still didn’t look up from it, but said, “Sit there as long as you like.” His voice was smug. “I’m sure your next employer will be very excited to hire you, given that you’re belligerent, a control-freak, and constantly disrespect authority.”

Her jaw dropped and her mouth gaped open. She couldn’t really argue with belligerence, but control-freak? Disrespect authority? This was not going to go undefended.

“I’m not a control-freak,” she said coldly. “And I only give authority to those who deserve it. In other words, not you. And belligerence? Quite frankly, somebody needs to put you in your place.”

Madara finally looked up at her, the masked expression on his face frightening. “And you believe that yourself, a young, not even twenty-year-old woman, without higher education, with maybe twenty-five thousand yen to her name, who lives with her parents, and who wouldn’t even have a job without the person she is try to ‘put in his place,’ should be the one to humble me? You, my dear, are extremely naïve and have no sense of place in this world. You would do well to go to an obedience school for women.”

It occurred to her that he was definitely a misogynist. The Western feminine movement that was slowly making its way towards Japan obviously didn’t impress him, but that wasn’t what bothered her.

Despite her tough attitude and her angry face, Sakura had been cut deeply by his words. They were mostly true. She wasn’t sure how he’d figured out even an estimate of what she had in her personal bank account or that she lived with her parents, but it was accurate. She had twenty-two thousand yen in her bank account, give or take, and most of her expenses were covered by her parents still, even at nineteen. But didn’t most nineteen year olds live with their parents? Maybe, maybe not. Ino lived with her parents and she knew Sasuke did, but her friend Naruto didn’t have any parents to live with so he was on his own. Of course she didn’t have higher education, she was nineteen. What he’d said was definitely kicking below the belt, because he was being scolding and condescending towards her mostly because of her age and the fact that she was a woman, but it stung nonetheless.

She wanted to make it clear to him that she didn’t even want the job, but in her sensitive, wounded mind she knew that it would only prove his condescending words. Sakura couldn’t even respond.

So another part of her took over. The strong, confident Sakura reacted and she was given a new perspective. As much as she hated it, Uchiha Madara was her boss. She couldn’t disrespect him and she had to listen to him. This was her role, and as much as she regretted it, she had gotten herself into this situation. She was going to be his personal assistant for the next six months. Looking at it as optimistically as she could, it would very much reflect well on her on any resume if she could get on Madara’s good side. If she performed well and did what he asked, it could actually really benefit her. She would figure out the rest later, like how to avoid his possible advances or whatever else he might be after, but she would swallow her pride now and be responsible. It occurred to her that her childhood was over and she had entered the working adult world.

She would just have to rise above his cold, cutting words and be a woman instead of a girl.

But that didn’t mean she would give him what he really wanted by hiring her. She would be calm, cool, collected and most certainly professional. There would be no trivial conversation, no games, nothing. As long as it was job-related, she would accommodate him, no questions asked. She would be the best personal assistant ever, and she would live through the experience. Hardening herself and cutting off her angry, tumultuous emotions, Sakura rose to the occasion.

Straightening herself in her seat, she noticed Madara had gone back to his paperwork. Nodding inwardly, she asked as politely and professionally as she could, “Madara-sama, what would you like me to do?”

He paused in his work and looked up at her, smirking triumphantly. “Good, you’ve learned your place. I suppose I won’t have to order you to go to obedience school after all.”

Sakura nodded, not taking the bait to show her temper, even though she seethed with fury inside. “I’m glad you will be spared of that expense,” she agreed meekly, although if it wouldn’t have been illegal to pummel him to death with her fists, she would have. As it was, she was all but biting her tongue to hold back a scathing remark.

Madara raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more for a good few minutes, simply staring at her. Knowing her place, she did not meet his eyes. He was her superior and she would treat him like it.

“You may get me coffee. Black, with two packets of sugar on the side.”

Sakura nodded and stood. “Where would you like me to go?”

“There is a coffee shop on the corner. Ask Nohara-san for my company credit card for the purchase. Anything you would like will come out of your paycheck.”

She nodded in understanding. “Alright, Madara-sama. I’ll get that for you now.” She turned to leave.

Just as she reached the door, Madara spoke again.

“It disappoints me, Sakura-chan, that you would break so easily. I believed you were stronger than that.”

Sakura ignored the back-handed compliment. “Some would say, Madara-sama, that strength is directly correlated with surviving. If I can survive working for you, I should think that death would no longer frighten me.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Chapter Text

The next Monday after she had been hired, Sakura finally met the two other men who headed Senju & Uchiha: Senju Hashirama and his younger brother, Tobirama.

She had felt rather confident that morning, as this Monday heralded a first week completed working under Madara. She had already marked her calendar in monthly increments for the duration of her time at Senju & Uchiha, along with rewards for each month endured. However, she was feeling generous to herself today and had bought herself a nice hazelnut mocha from the coffee shop Madara had originally sent her to for his morning beverages. Of course, there was a coffee and tea stand just outside the office in the hall, but Madara had apparently deemed himself too good for it, even though the brands of coffees and teas that Hashirama supplied were still fairly upscale. Sakura made sure to pick up Madara’s coffee on her way, and it was carried carefully in her left hand. For the first time, however, she had also bought a coffee of her own at the shop.

She had fallen into something of a routine with her boss. He had arranged for her to take a class to certify her as a notary, which had taken up the majority of her Saturday the previous weekend, and now she was as qualified as an upper high school student could be to do her job. Most of what she did was administrative work, which was more tedious than difficult. Although the job required lots of interaction with Madara, it never really allowed for idle chitchat or any drawn-out conversations that were not work-related, so she made sure to wield that weapon as skillfully and as frequently as possible.

He often tried to drag her into conversations, mostly about menial things, but also occasionally about politics or school. Once, he had even asked something personal—specifically, did she have a boyfriend? She was able to dodge the questions almost every time, citing work as her excuse. The only time it had failed was when he asked her about her relationship status; there had been a hard glint in his eyes when he looked at her and in an instinctual response, she had become truly frightened. Unfortunately, in her fear she had forgotten to lie and instead told him that no, she did not have a boyfriend. The satisfaction evident on his face at her answer had made her stomach twist and she had hastily excused herself, berating herself the whole way to her desk. If he thought she had a boyfriend, he was less likely to try and make an advance on her—or so she hoped. Nevertheless, it was a lost cause now.

She was learning about him, though, even despite their scant personal interaction. She had found that he was a very intense man, very hardheaded and stubborn when it came to achieving or getting what he wanted. The way he could refuse to take no for an answer sometimes frightened her, especially because he was certainly powerful enough to make others acquiesce to his wants. He was also detail-oriented and meticulous, and that alone made it clear why he was able to win as many cases as he did. Nothing went unnoticed by him.

He was also undoubtedly a schemer. He always had a plan mapped out, whether in his head or otherwise, that would lead him to getting what he wanted. These were all traits that were certainly admirable in his profession, but they also left her faintly unsettled. When using his skills the way he was supposed to, she imagined it was very lucrative for the firm. However, if he were to use them for something less desirable, or even illegal, Sakura had a bad feeling that it could be disastrous. She could only be glad that he was on the right side of the law.

She was also trying to get a handle on what he was after when it came to her. Other than the question regarding her relationship status and the way he had trapped her in this job, he hadn’t really shown much of the womanizer she had heard and read about. He hadn’t attempted anything at all—he hadn’t tried to grope her or manhandle her in any way, nor had he made any lascivious or inappropriate comments. Occasionally she would feel his gaze linger on her, but that in itself was harmless. By no means was she lowering her guard, but she found herself confused. His intentions didn’t seem to be what she had initially thought they were, even if she couldn’t think of any other reason he would have done what he had to trap her in this job.

Then again, she mused as she stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the twelfth floor, it had only been a week. He could be trying to lure her into a false sense of security.

Just when as the doors were closing, a very harried man with long brown hair, tan skin, and sparkling brown eyes dove for them. Sakura gasped, almost spilling the coffees, as he managed to slip into the elevator before the doors closed on him.

Reigning in her shock, she asked politely, “What floor?”

The man glanced at the buttons and frowned speculatively. “Twelve…that’s odd. Who’re you, again?”

Sakura smiled at him, and it was probably the first genuine smile she had ever had in this building. “Haruno Sakura,” she said with a bow, which was somewhat awkward due to the coffees in her hands. It wasn’t hard to realize that she was in the presence of one of Madara’s colleagues. “And you are…?”

“Senju Hashirama,” the man replied, bowing in return. “Who are you working for? I wasn’t aware that anybody had hired a personal assistant.”

Sakura was surprised for a moment, then realized that the fact that she was carrying coffee and was obviously too young to have a law degree or be a paralegal made her position clear. She recovered quickly, but not so quickly as to forget to call Madara his formal title. “I work for Uchiha-sama,” she said reservedly.

“Huh. I’m surprised he didn’t tell me,” Hashirama said, gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully. He then looked at her appraisingly. “How old are you?”

She couldn’t help the flush of her cheeks. “I’m twenty,” she replied, a little uncomfortable at his perceptiveness. “It’s-it’s an odd arrangement.”

She would have gladly ranted to Hashirama about the injustice of her situation and how she didn’t want to be there at all, but she was also aware that Madara would be upset with her if she revealed what he had done. While it would normally be in her best interests, she was stuck with Madara and she was certain that no amount of finagling by a disapproving colleague would be able to change her situation—and that was assuming that Hashirama would be bothered by what was going on at all.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, though?” he asked, keeping up the perceptiveness she wanted to go away.

Sakura made sure to keep eye contact to hide her lie and said, “It’s all been worked out. He was very…helpful.”

‘Helpful’ wasn’t exactly the term she would have used normally, but it wouldn’t look good on her to badmouth her employer.

Hashirama suddenly shrugged and then grinned brightly at her. “Well, Haruno-san, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m glad he’s got someone looking out for him—I know he’s a bit grouchy, but overall he’s a good person. He wouldn’t be my best friend if he wasn’t.”

Sakura highly doubted that Madara was a good person, but if Hashirama claimed Madara was his best friend, then he obviously knew him better than she did. Nonetheless, she was very glad now that she hadn’t said anything against Madara—it would have been very bad form to insult him behind his back, and to his best friend no less.

“Yeah,” she replied weakly, and thankfully they arrived at the twelfth floor just then.

Hashirama politely allowed her to exit the elevator first before following her. “Oh, you know what? You should meet my brother, Tobirama. He’ll be interested to meet our floor’s newest occupant.”

“Oh, um…”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take more than a minute or two. Madara can’t be that desperate for his coffee, now can he?”

However, Sakura had the thought that Madara wouldn’t be too pleased with a cold beverage, so she said, “Let me give it to him first.”

Hashirama nodded. “Sure thing.” She had apparently reminded him that he wanted one as well because he made his way over to the coffee stand.

Sakura made her way into Madara’s office. He glanced up when she entered and his eyes honed in on his coffee.

“Good morning, Sakura-san,” Madara said after he took his first sip.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied, and before he could give her that day’s assignments, she continued, “I met Senju-sama on the way up, and-”

“Which one?” Madara asked coldly. Sakura was a bit wary at his sudden frostiness, but continued anyway.

“Hashirama,” she replied. “He wants me to meet his brother, so-”

“No.”

Sakura’s eyes widened at his odd reticence. “Um, it’s just for a second. I’m not going to be missing any work…”

Madara’s eyes were shuttered, but his entire expression was forbidding. “I said no. You should get to work imme-”

“Madara!” Hashirama said from the doorway, the mug of tea in his hand sloshing with his exuberance. With his early morning cheerfulness, Sakura wasn’t surprised that he didn’t need anything as strong as coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a personal assistant? You didn’t think you could keep her a secret forever, did you?”

From the look on her boss’s face, Sakura thought that that was exactly what he had intended to do.

Madara responded easily though. “It’s been a very busy week, Hashirama. Haruno-san and I have been working hard.” He looked at her meaningfully.

She turned to Hashirama. “Yeah, it’s been a bit rough adjusting,” she admitted, which wasn’t entirely untrue. However, she wasn’t exactly sure why she was playing along with Madara. She was trying to keep him happy, but the fact that he was already controlling her interactions with the people he worked with made alarm bells go off her in head. She had never been in a workplace environment like this before, but she was still rather certain that this was abnormal behavior.

Then again, Madara didn’t seem to be a very normal man.

Hashirama rolled his eyes. “You work too hard,” he scolded playfully. “Anyways, Haruno-san should be meet Tobirama. It’ll be good for her to know all the faces around here, don’t you think?”

Upon seeing the dangerous look in Madara’s eyes, Sakura was going to protest, but he said, “Very well. Don’t be too long.”

Madara sent her a chilling look, but Sakura didn’t know what he was trying to convey. Instead, she nodded and followed Hashirama across the hall, to Tobirama’s office.

“Little brother!” Hashirama called with the same tone of voice he had used on Madara. “Open up! There’s someone you need to meet!”

There was some audible grumbling from behind the door before a tall man opened the door. “Hashirama, I told you not to bring women to the work-…”

And then his eyes landed on Sakura and he trailed off.

Sakura smiled at him tentatively, butterflies in her stomach. He was incredibly handsome, she thought. He had shaggy silver hair but a youthful face that didn’t match it. There were red markings on his face, similar to Rin’s tattoos, although they weren’t covered up with concealer. He was a large man with broad shoulders and sharply defined muscles, and Sakura could tell that he took excellent care of himself. He probably was no more than ten or twelve years her senior.

“Hi,” she said with a bow, “my name is Haruno Sakura.”

Tobirama gathered himself quickly and bowed in returned. “Senju Tobirama,” he replied. “I apologize for my brother bringing you here, he’s impossible to-”

Hashirama laughed. “No, no, Sakura is Madara’s new personal assistant.”

Immediately, Tobirama’s eyes flashed with a hint of disappointment before freezing over like death itself. “I see.” He looked at her with cool detachment now and Sakura found herself mildly hurt. However, she was able to make one clear connection: Madara and Tobirama did not like each other, if their countenances when the other’s name was mentioned were anything to go by.

Whether it was willful or unintentional obliviousness, Hashirama did not seem to notice. “Well, now that we all know each other, don’t hesitate to come to me or Tobirama for help, okay? Madara can be a bit much sometimes.”

That was an understatement if she had ever heard one.

Tobirama seemed to think the same thing because he snorted sarcastically. “Good to meet you, Haruno-san,” he said, still somewhat coldly. “Like my brother said, if you need anything, come to us.” When he said it, he made it sound like “come to me.”

Sakura didn’t know what to make of anything that had just happened, so when Tobirama closed the door and Hashirama waved to her before heading down to his office at the end of the hall, she could only stand there for a moment, befuddled.

Then she gathered herself, quite admirably if she did say so herself, and went back to Madara’s to be briefed for the day.

It should have been concerning, but it wasn’t.

Madara knew he was hopelessly obsessed. It was Friday around noontime and he was already tired, having been there since the crack of dawn—much earlier than usual. He admitted to himself, and only himself, that since Sakura had started working at the firm, he had been waking up earlier and earlier so as to not miss one second of her presence.

He looked down at the paperwork in front of him with weary eyes. If it was possible, he had grown even more attentive to his work; Sakura had an equally maddening and calming presence all at once. He was quickly becoming convinced that she was gaining more and more importance in his life, more so than any other woman he had met, and it was strange and yet exhilarating at the same time.

He had learned much about her in their short time together; it had been three weeks since she started working for him and although she remained professional in every sense of the word, he had glimpsed parts of her personality in that period of time. He had attempted to get to know her in a less professional capacity, but her intelligence worked against him in this—she used the most valid excuses possible to dissuade him, and although he knew he could have wrangled it out of her with persistence and intolerance of her excuses, he had preferred to let her come to him on her own terms.

He was quickly losing patience, however.

She avoided him at all costs. Anything she said was always related to work, and while he admired her diligence and ability to rebuff him—although he wasn’t sure why her rejections aroused him even more so than usual—it was starting to get irritating.

It was currently lunch time and Sakura had left to go downstairs to pick up the takeout he had ordered. She always brought her lunch—it seemed she was trying to stockpile as much of the money she was making as possible. It was another sign of her vast intelligence and that made it so very, very attractive.

The door to the office opened and Sakura entered, interrupting his thoughts. “Here you go, Madara-sama,” she said politely, placing the bag on the corner of his desk where it wouldn’t interfere with his files.

Madara nodded in acknowledgement and Sakura bowed slightly before turning to leave to have her own lunch. He’d given her the office next door to his, as only three offices were being used on the twelfth floor—his, Hashirama’s, and Tobirama’s. Sakura’s office was adjoined to his by a door to his left, which made it easy to communicate since it could be left open.

“Sakura-san,” he said calmly, “You will join me for lunch.” He was tired of waiting for her to warm up to him.

It was so adorable the way she stiffened, her back to him. “Sorry, Madara-sama, but I’m behind on my paperwork. I planned to catch up during lunch.”

It was a blatant lie; she’d just turned in her most recent assignment before he had asked her to get his takeout. He would have frowned, but it pleased him that she was standing up to him so calmly, so professionally, and with no intention of acquiescing without significant force. It was much more enticing than it should have been.

“Are you slacking, Sakura-san? I don’t pay you to twiddle your thumbs all day,” he said, smirking. He knew it would cause her to defend herself, even if only on a professional level.

She turned towards him, eyes hard and breaking her usual façade. “Of course not, Madara-sama.”

“Then there should be no reason you would need to catch up. Eat here.”

Her eyes glinted with anger, however slightly, and she said as smoothly as possible, “I’d really rather-”

“That’s an order.”

She visibly slumped before quickly straightening up, as she knew she couldn’t stop him if he demanded something. She then nodded curtly and passed by him to go to her office next door.

Victory was a beautiful thing, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to let her slip past him this time.

Once in the office, Sakura let down her façade and glared at the door behind her accusingly. She so wanted to hit something right now!

“That asshole,” she ground out through gritted teeth. Glancing at the clock, she realized she was going to have to spend an entire hour with Madara in a completely unprofessional way. Anger no longer simmered beneath the surface; it was quickly being replaced by fear. Was he going to try something? What if he-

No, she assured herself. He wouldn’t go that far, not with Hashirama and Tobirama on the same floor.

Also, he had backed off since her second week there. Sure, he still tried to engage her in conversation, but there were no more personal or invasive questions. For that she was thankful.

Sakura hadn’t interacted with the floor’s other occupants since Monday, but she saw them in the hallways occasionally. Hashirama always waved at her and sent her a bright smile, but Tobirama was much more reserved around her. Sometimes he would nod his head in her direction curtly, but other than that he made no effort to acknowledge her presence.

This hurt her, although there was no real reason for it to. He had seemed so eager to meet her for that one second before Hashirama said that she was Madara’s personal assistant, and she wondered if she could possibly bring back that spark of interest. It was unorthodox for her to be attracted to her boss’s colleague, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She had been harboring her crush ever since she laid eyes on him and it was very difficult not to try and talk to him when he was at the coffee stand in the hall. However, she maintained her professionalism and only did her best to smile at him warmly whenever she saw him.

She had learned from Madara that Hashirama was married to a woman named Mito, and they were living quite a satisfactory life. Mito couldn’t bear children, so they were a quiet, happy, childless couple. However, she hadn’t been able to learn anything about Tobirama, which wasn’t surprising given how much Madara seemed to despise him. She hadn’t dared bring the younger man up around her employer and he never made any effort to speak about him, either. All she could do was hope vaguely that he was single.

Sakura smoothed her beige shirt down to her black slacks and quickly tried to figure out how she was going to handle this impromptu lunch appointment with Madara. Somehow she doubted he was going to make this easy on her. She frowned, slowly making it to the bento situated in the mini-refrigerator in her office.

Then, inspiration hit her. She would just make it out to not be a big deal. That was the best course of action; if she showed that she was bothered, it would simply make things awkward and feed into her fear. However, if she played it off like there was nothing to it, there would be no tension and it was unlikely anything would come of the lunch.

Mentally patting herself on the back, Sakura took her bento, which was full of roasted salmon onigiri that she’d made herself and her cold bottled water out of the fridge. Steeling her resolve, she opened the door and walked back into Madara’s office.

Madara glanced up at her in acknowledgment. He then started returning the files to their folders and set them aside, clearing room for her to set her lunch down. Sakura stood there and watched, swallowing heavily as he opened the takeout bag and pulled out his beef yakisoba.

The clock ticked, every passing second filling her with a fear she couldn’t combat.

Finally, Madara turned to her and said, “Are you just going to stand there?” His tone was mocking, condescending.

This broke Sakura out of her paralyzed stance. Right. She would pretend this was no big deal. There was no reason she couldn’t maintain her serious workplace façade throughout a lunch date. She’d have to find different ways to evade questions that she didn’t want to answer, as she couldn’t use work as an excuse right now, but there really was no way to avoid conversation altogether.

Swallowing heavily once more, Sakura nodded and pulled up one of the seats to his desk. She was tempted to try to gorge herself on her food so that after she was finished she could make a quick getaway, but something told her that Madara wouldn’t allow that to happen.

She took a bite of her onigiri and Madara began to eat. The office fell into an awkward silence, at least on her part. Madara didn’t look discomfited at all, which bothered her, but nonetheless she was grateful for the lack of conversation.

After a few moments, however, Madara asked her, “How is school going?”

Sakura contemplated telling him that it wasn’t appropriate to bring that kind of thing up, but then she decided that she could save that for a potentially worse question. As far as she was concerned, talking about her school life wasn’t all that damning.

“It’s been going alright,” she said noncommittally. “Although I have much less time for homework now, and practically no social life.” She couldn’t help but make that small jab, narrowing her eyes at him as she spoke.

He was completely unconcerned, however, and she felt she shouldn’t have been surprised. He was selfish; she already knew that beyond a doubt.

“There is nothing wrong with a lesser social life if it will move you up the ladder in the long term,” he replied easily. She could see his point even if she didn’t appreciate it, but something told her that there was some double entendre in there. She just wasn’t sure what it could be. It was impossible to miss the smug look on his face, though, and that bothered her.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not waste my youth at work. There’s enough time for that later in life,” she retorted a little too hotly.

Madara looked at her intently and she couldn’t help but avert her eyes at his intense stare. She took a large bite of her onigiri to avoid speaking to him for a little bit.

He had no comment in the end and silence resumed. She had no reason to break the quiet and there was certainly no inclination to, so she sat and focused on eating.

Madara ate leisurely, not altogether too concerned about the time passing. He was content to watch her eat daintily, although it eventually started to become trying. The sight of her lips around the rim of the water bottle and her throat undulating when she drank, and the way her tongue would occasionally flit out from between her lips to remove little grains of rice from where they shouldn’t be being more arousing than he would have originally imagined. Of course he loved being given head like any hot-blooded male, but the thought of Sakura doing it—he’d grip her hair and make sure she couldn’t pull away, even if she wanted to, and he’d really make her work to keep up with the pace of his hips as he fucked her mouth—and then, when he tore himself away from his thoughts and felt the stiffness of his cock pressing against his thigh, he realized that he had never had such a violent fantasy about anyone before.

But there was something about it that made his blood pump ever faster through his veins down to his throbbing cock, and when coupled with an image of Sakura, he knew that he was lost. Nothing in his experience to date could compare with the surge of arousal that fleeting image of Sakura in his mind had given him.

His preoccupation with his fantasy made it difficult to focus on conversation. He couldn’t get the image of her on her knees with his cock in her mouth out of his head, and this ended up wasting precious time he could spend learning about her. Finally, with a hard mental shove, the visual was pushed away.

“What do you think about the Akisawa case?” he asked. How better to get a feel for the workings of her mind than to challenge her intellectually?

Sakura paused and looked up, for a split second looking like a deer in the headlights. Then, swallowing the food in her mouth, she said hesitantly, “I don’t think you should be defending him. He’s obviously guilty.”

He hummed contemplatively. “What makes you think that?”

“Other than the mountain of evidence clearly displaying that not only was he at the scene of the crime, the fact that his alibi is weak, and that his fingerprints are on the murder weapon? Oh, there’s no reason to think he’s guilty at all.” Her voice was blatantly sarcastic, and he found himself smirking at her cheek.

“Then here’s a question: why would I choose to mar my record by defending someone who, with any other lawyer, would clearly lose his trial?”

Sakura blinked, and then her jaw hung open ever so slightly. He could tell that he had thrown her for a loop; indeed, why was he defending Akisawa? He knew she was intelligent, and it would be amusing to see if she could come to the right conclusion.

She was silent for a long while, turning the question over in her head. At last, she frowned and said uncertainly, “If you know you’re going to lose, then the only reason I can see that you would defend him is the chance to set a precedent.”

Madara smirked widely at her deduction. “Exactly. Even if I lose the case—which, by the way, I won’t—it sets a precedent. In the future, similar cases will be much easier to win. Public opinion will dictate that.”

Sakura glared at him disapprovingly. “That’s pretty much the opposite of ethical, you know.”

“When have lawyers ever claimed to be ethical?” he asked rhetorically. And whether or not she realized it was actually rhetorical, she couldn’t come up with an answer, so she stayed silent.

“Well, I’m done with lunch,” she announced, standing up and gathering her lunchbox and empty water bottle, which she promptly tossed the recycling bin. “I’ll just get back to work then.”

Madara considered whether he should make her stick around regardless of how much she’d eaten, but then decided that it didn’t matter. He’d opened the doorway to discussing cases with her, and therefore it would be much easier to drag her into conversation.

Just like he was going to set a precedent with the Akisawa case, he had just set a precedent with Sakura. She would be subconsciously more willing to interact with him now that he had appealed to her rational brain.

The best part was that she didn’t even realize it.

Chapter Text

From there on out, he was able to engage her occasionally in any court case he deemed interesting enough to catch her attention. She remained wary of him, but she was slowly starting to open up more, although he could tell her trust for him was in the negatives.

That didn’t bother him. In a way, it was almost admirable that she would persist in her suspiciousness of him, as they both knew the last thing his intentions were towards her was honorable. She was smart and could see that, and it would have almost—almost—ruined her allure if she was willing to fall for such a simple ruse as having barely less than professional conversations.

Not for the first time, Madara wondered what it was about Haruno Sakura that had brought on his obsession for her. Her intelligence was a part of it, her personality was another, and while her looks were enticing as well, they actually took up the smallest amount of importance in his obsession.

But even those three factors combined still did not warrant the strength of his feelings towards her. She was magnetic, the north to his south, and any chance he had ever had of letting go of her had faded the moment she had defiantly lied to his face during their first conversation, stilted though it was.

Madara stood in his bedroom, his white dress shirt unbuttoned past his collarbones and tied loosened from around his neck. He technically had a date with Miya tonight, which would inevitably end up in a high-end hotel room in downtown Tokyo—he never allowed any of his ‘dates’ come back to his home, no matter how familiar with them he was—but it held no real appeal to him. He was more concerned, if that was the right word, about his relationship with Sakura.

It had nearly been a month now, and he was tired of waiting. Realistically, he’d known that it would take much longer for her to warm up to him than a mere month, especially given she wasn’t as willing in their arrangement as he would have liked her to be. However, it was grating on him. Coming home every day only to take off his clothes and immediately masturbate to whatever fantasy about her had popped into his head during the day was taking a toll on him. He knew without a doubt that the only way his lust would be slaked would be if he had her, body and soul.

He had realized not long after hiring her that his initial decision to sleep with her to get her out of his head was not going to happen. Sakura had embedded herself in him, regardless of whether or not she had meant to, and nothing in the world could stop him from owning her.

He had never been in a relationship, not like the one he planned to have with Sakura. Whereas he had had rather intense flings in the past, he had never intended for it to go anywhere outside the bedroom.

Sakura, though…Sakura. She would be his, outside the bedroom just as much as inside. He would marry her someday, he knew, because he couldn’t see this passion waning.

Running his hand through his long hair, he sighed and finished unbuttoning his shirt. He might as well see Miya after all, but then he’d get to work. He picked up his phone and thumbed down his list of contacts. Under the guise of a popular restaurant’s number was Nagato’s private line. Perhaps, with some finagling and negotiation, he could convince the young man that carrying out his orders would be in his best interests without cashing in his freebie.

So much preparation, so little time.

 Sakura was equally as frustrated as her boss, but for very different reasons.

“How am I supposed to get a date for the dance Friday night if Kiba won’t even call me back?” she raged to Ino as they sat at a tea shop by Ino’s house.

Ino drummed her fingers on the table, her head propped up on her hand and bored eyes scanning the busy street. “I don’t know,” she said. “Shika hasn’t returned any of my texts, either. And even though there are plenty of people I’d rather go with, might as well be someone I’ll at least have fun with.”

Sakura smirked. “If he doesn’t bail five minutes in.”

Ino turned to face her, a dark but playful look in her eyes. “You know I won’t let him.”

“And they say men can’t be victims of abuse.”

Ino laughed at that and Sakura joined in. It was nice to go out with her friend and just relax for a little bit, even though there was a ton of homework waiting for her at home and she was supposed to finish up a financial report for work. When it came to working for Madara, there was no such thing as a weekend. There were days she went to work, and then there were days where the work came home with her. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure how she was still coping with the stress.

Ino seemed to notice her suddenly glum look and frowned. “What’s up, Forehead?”

Sakura sighed and took a sip of her tea. It was in that heavenly middle between piping hot and lukewarm, and she was going to savor it while it remained at the perfect temperature.

“Ugh,” Sakura moaned. “It’s just everything. Do you remember how I told you I was picked for that internship?”

Ino nodded. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s worse,” Sakura confided. Ino gave her a look and Sakura nodded. “But you have to keep this to yourself. I recently read over the contract and one of the things mentioned was a confidentiality clause.”

Her friend raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Of course there’s a confidentiality clause. You’re working at a law firm.”

“No, that’s not what the clause is for.” Ino frowned, and Sakura looked surreptitiously around the room, even though there was no one to overhear who would care. “He tricked me. It’s not an internship at all.”

Ino’s frowned deepened with concern. “What do you mean?”

Sakura went on to explain the story: how he had offered her wages in exchange for her agreement, the convoluted contract that didn’t do what it said it did, including the confidentiality clause that made her glad she hadn’t thought to complain about Madara’s duplicity loudly and publicly, and his assumed intentions towards her.

Ino’s jaw dropped lower and lower throughout Sakura’s explanation until it was stretched to its limit. Then, when Sakura had finished, she looked torn between amusement and anger.

“Yeah, right, Forehead. As if someone of his status would ever go so far for a college student. But you really did have me going there for a minute.”

Sakura blanched at Ino’s disbelief, but realized she should have expected it. After hearing herself say it all out loud, it really did sound ludicrous. And really, it was like her best friend had said—why would a man like Uchiha Madara go after a girl like Haruno Sakura?

“Why would I make something like this up?” she asked after a long silence, unable to hide the hurt in her voice. Sure, it appeared pretty ridiculous on the outside looking in, but it was nowhere near as funny when you were the person in the situation.

Ino’s brow furrowed and she looked at her disapprovingly. “Sakura…”

Sakura hadn’t realized just how much it had meant to have Ino believe her. If anybody would take her seriously on this, it was Ino, and even she wasn’t. It hurt, but Sakura also didn’t blame Ino. If Ino had come up to her saying the same thing, she would be reacting exactly how the blonde was.

But how could she prove it to her?

“I’ll show you the contract,” Sakura declared decisively. If that didn’t convince her, then nobody would ever believe her.

Ino’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Like I said, why would I make this up?” Sakura wasn’t angry, not really, but she supposed she sounded it, because Ino looked intensely concerned for a long moment.

“Okay. Show it to me on Friday, when we’re getting ready for the dance, okay? If this is true, and not some super crazy prank you’re playing on me—and good job, by the way, if it is—you probably shouldn’t bring it to school.”

Sakura nodded, and they lapsed into awkward silence. Once she realized that conversation was effectively over, her too hurt and Ino too suspicious, she stood up and placed a few bills on the table.

“I might as well go home and get some homework done,” Sakura told her. “Can’t get behind.”

Ino smirked, and it seemed that even though they disagreed on Sakura’s plight, all was more or less well between them. “Like you’d ever get behind, Forehead.”

“Pig,” Sakura sneered playfully. “I’ll see you Friday, then?”

Ino nodded, also standing up. “If not before. But you’re so busy these days, I hardly ever see you.”

Sakura knew it would be pointless to remind her that that was directly caused by the job she had but didn’t want, but knew that that would only make things awkward again, so she kept it to herself. She waved goodbye and headed down the street towards the bus station.

Sakura was filing away paperwork in the appropriate cabinet when she heard Madara’s cell phone ring. She startled at the sudden noise in the oppressive silence, but Madara quickly answered it.

“Hello?”

Sakura could vaguely hear a voice speaking on the other end. It was deep and not nearly as cultured as Madara’s, but it was clearly identifiable as a male.

Madara rarely received calls on his personal cell at work. Sakura couldn’t help her curiosity, so she focused on what the man on the phone was saying.

“-can be done Friday evening,” she heard the man say.

“Is that so?” Madara said, humming in what seemed like appreciation. “Very well. I suppose that’s as soon as possible.”

The voice was speaking too fast for Sakura to catch everything, but she heard, “-Hachi Street-” Odd, that was the street Ino lived on. “-father—enemy—useful information—It will be done at 9 p.m.”

“I will make the arrangements,” Madara replied calmly.

For some reason, Sakura felt a twist in her stomach. Somehow, she was almost certain she wasn’t supposed to have heard what was said, and not in just an ‘it’s bad to eavesdrop’ type of way. It almost felt like this was something that would actively hurt her if she understood the implications.

A bead of sweat trickled down her spine and she swallowed hard. Better to just put it in the back of her mind and not worry about it. Whatever was going on with Madara and whoever this man was, she was positive she didn’t want to know.

And did it really surprise her that her boss might be involved with illegal dealings?

…Not as much as it would have if it had been anybody else, no. In fact, she wasn’t surprised at all.

She tuned out the last of the conversation, focusing on making sure the files went into their correct places. She couldn’t help but hurry a little, in fact. She didn’t quite understand why, but she wanted to be around Madara less than usual right then, which was really saying something.

She hurried to back to her office, but didn’t close the door in case he needed something from her. There was rarely a point in the day where she had a legitimate excuse to erect the barrier between them, but right then she wished she had one.

The rest of the day, Madara seemed exceedingly jovial—as much as a person like he was could be, at least—and was clearly very, very pleased about something. Sakura didn’t know what that might be, but she had a feeling that it was very bad for someone somewhere.

It never occurred to her that the person it was bad for was, in fact, herself.

Chapter Text

8.

Yamanaka Ino sighed angrily as she held the phone up to her ear. Of all the times her best friend could choose to bail on her, did it have to be this time?

“I’m really sorry, Ino! My boss is being a total bastard and making me bring him some file he left at work. He has a car, but no,” she dragged the word out emphatically, “it has to be me who brings it to him—at eight o’clock at night! What a jerk! I can’t believe him!”

Ino growled. “Forehead, if you needed an excuse to get out of showing me this ‘contract’, you could at least do it in person. I don’t see why you’re skipping out on the dance, too. Trust me, the joke isn’t funny anymore.”

“Pig, no! You don’t-why-I just-god! I know it’s hard to believe, but please, you have to trust me! Would I really miss a dance when I finally got Kiba to agree to go with me?”

Whether or not Sakura knew it, Ino was contemplating this. It hadn’t been long since they had both moved on from Sasuke by mutual agreement that he was a dick and didn’t deserve their attention—oh, and it was rumored that he had been making out with Uzumaki Naruto in the storage closet, but Ino was the Gossip Queen and didn’t give that any credence—so perhaps Sakura had lingering feelings for him? But Sakura hadn’t acted as though she was still mooning over Sasuke, and Ino would have known if that were the case. She had grown up with Sakura, through all her ups and downs, and it was Sakura who had nearly ended their friendship when they both professed their ‘love’ for Sasuke to each other at literally the same time. Ino had been able to convince her that while he was amazing, godlike, beautiful, intelligent, and overall perfect, Uchiha Sasuke wasn’t worth their friendship. It had taken some time, but they had remained friends through it all.

So basically, no, Sakura was not trying to get out of this because she was still possibly pining for Sasuke and didn’t actually want to date Kiba. While the feelings on both ends of that budding relationship were lukewarm at best, they were still there and Ino was certain there was room for growth, even if Kiba wasn’t quite smart enough to keep up with Sakura. And really, Sakura wasn’t the type of person to bail on her best friend because she was embarrassed that she didn’t have some supposed to contract to back up her ridiculous love story. If anything, Ino was inclined to believe that Sakura had found another Uchiha to be crazy over, but even so, she was taking it too far.

Which brought her to thinking about how out of character this was for her, and really, Sakura had never been much of a prankster anyways, nor had she been such a good actress. If she had been, she would have used those acting skills to pretend her skin was thicker than it was during middle school. She couldn’t quite accept that Sakura was actually going through every outrageous detail she had outlined, but perhaps there was a grain of truth in all the fiction.

Ino sighed again, this time in resignation. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t. But seriously, Sakura, even if you’re telling the truth about this whole job thing, you need to tone down the drama. You know me, I can appreciate a good soap opera any day, but your soap opera rendition is just creepy.”

Sakura obviously had pulled the phone away from her ear, because the screech of anger that she emitted would have hurt Ino’s eardrum had she not. Ino had to admit that she was starting to get a little freaked out. This wasn’t her Forehead Girl. Her Sakura would never act like this, not ever.

Something niggled at the back of her mind and a slow, tarry pit of anxiety started to form in her stomach.

When Sakura spoke next, she sounded like she was close to tears, but she was also plenty angry. “Fine, Ino, don’t believe me. I’m going to go drop these off at my jerk of a boss’s house, spend a total of two hours getting around town late at night, go home, and have so much fun sitting by myself in my room while you go to the dance. Good night!”

And then she hung up the phone before Ino could get another word in.

The blonde put down her phone, honestly bewildered by her best friend’s outburst, and also more than a little worried. What the hell was going on with Sakura?

Her eyes strayed over to her bed, where three outfits that Sakura had been supposed to help her choose between were laid out. Truthfully, Ino already knew which one would look best on her and what she would wear, and Sakura knew she already knew, but it was fun to giggle and playfully argue over the clothes. Next to those three outfits were four for Sakura, and Ino also already knew which one would look best on her, but it was the principle of the matter. Before dances and get-togethers, it was tradition to have at least some haggling over which outfit they each would wear.

That wouldn’t be happening tonight, and it almost felt blasphemous. Dejected, she walked over to the stunning royal purple dress she had chosen—plunging yet still school appropriate neckline, halter top with ruffles lining the straps, and a respectable length just past her knees. It was almost too formal for a school dance, but Ino firmly believed in being the best-dressed person in attendance, and she wasn’t going to ever have it any other way.

She put on her strapless bra, as with her bust size, bras were not optional, slipped on the dress, and seated herself in front of her vanity. As she perused her eyeshadows, it was second nature to turn and ask Sakura what color would be best, but before she had even halfway turned her head, she remembered that Sakura wasn’t coming. It wasn’t like it had slipped her mind, either; she was definitely sulking about her friend’s absence, and come Tuesday, Sakura would get an earful.

And then that pit of anxiety reasserted itself. Ino wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was anxious about, only that she was and she didn’t like it.

She applied her makeup, put on her jewelry, and slipped into her heels before trudging out of her room. It just wasn’t the same, and she was-she was hurt that Sakura was really going to leave her to do this by herself. It wasn’t like she’d have a shortage of friends to hang out with, but this was a dance! It was their thing! Not once had Sakura ever missed a chance to get dressed up with her, even when she complained that she didn’t want to or didn’t have enough money to keep up with Ino’s spending.

Her father noticed her bad mood as she passed through the dining room. She wanted water, but she couldn’t smudge her lipstick until it dried a little. “Everything okay, Ino-chan?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Why isn’t Sakura over?” he asked.

“She’s busy with some work thing she has to do. I don’t know.”

“Cheer up, dear. It’s just one night.”

In that moment, Ino was annoyed that her father was a psychiatrist. She often had been growing up, as he could easily read her moods and was always too perceptive for his own good. It was almost like he was inside her head at times, and if that wasn’t annoying to a teenage girl, she wasn’t sure what could be.

He was the top of the line psychiatrist, too. He had recently been involved with some hush-hush case involving human sacrifices; it was such a big deal that even the media was kept away from it for fear of inciting a mass panic. That was all she had been able to figure out, and all of it had come from curious eavesdropping. Her father would never divulge anything to her about a case, especially one of this caliber, but she had seen the stress lines on his face pronounced over the last month and had been worried enough to risk her father’s confidentiality to find out what was going on.

She ended up leaving early for the dance, which was usually unacceptable because it was important to arrive fashionably late, but Shikamaru had refused to pick up a platonic date, claiming that it was just ‘too much trouble’—to go to when he wasn’t going to get laid at the end of the night, Ino had tacked on in her head. Shikamaru was a teenage boy through and through, but he was single and probably still a virgin just because it would be too much effort to woo a girl.

Then again, he had gotten really close with some girl at a party a couple of years back. It had to have been a one-night-stand, because if Ino remembered correctly, the girl—Tenami? Tamari? Something like that—had been from Kyoto and was visiting because of some business deal. So perhaps he wasn’t a virgin after all…

Ino was content to distract herself with these frivolous thoughts as she walked down the street to the subway. It was a little creepy, though, how empty the streets were right now. It was a Friday night, and Tokyo never slept, so it was very odd to be the only one out.

And then she saw a woman who looked very similar to her, her blonde hair in partially in a ponytail and partially let down, wearing a very unattractive trench coat but who had shining blue eyes just like her, walking down the sideway in the opposite direction. So she supposed she wasn’t the only one out here. That was comforting.

Then the woman was approaching her. “Hey, do you know where the subway is?” she asked, and it turned out it was definitely a man. An effeminate man, but a man nonetheless. And a man with an accent. She couldn’t place it, but she was thinking somewhere north, like Sapporo.

And now that she looked at him, he was actually pretty cute. She smiled, her flirting charm already in action before she even called upon it. “Yeah, that’s actually where I’m going right now. I’ll show you?”

The stranger smirked, and wow, he really was cute. “That’d be great, yeah.” Then he bowed, and motioned for her to lead the way.

They walked in silence for a little while, and then the man said, “So, are you from Tokyo?”

Ino nodded, grinning. “Born and raised. In fact, I’ve been living on this exact street all my life.”

The man looked thoughtful. “And this street is…?”

“Hachi Street. You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked, and couldn’t help but giggle a little.

He laughed and shrugged. “Nah, I’m from a little prefecture north of Sapporo, yeah.” Score! “Came down here, looking for work and all that.”

“Yeah, Tokyo’s a pretty nice place. Very urban, though. I’m guessing that far north, it’s not so much?”

“Well, it was urban, yeah. But not like Tokyo. I mean, here, the grocery stores never close, yeah.”

Ino felt a little disappointed when the subway was coming into view, as well as the noise of a crowd of people. She had only barely started talking to this cute foreigner, and now they would have to part ways. She sighed. Too bad.

“Dammit, Sasori!” the man muttered under his breath as she checked his watch. “Hurry the fuck up!”

“Who’s Sasori?” she asked, a bit concerned at the vehemence in his tone.

“Patience is a virtue,” came a flat, toneless voice from behind them. Ino whirled around and shrieked in surprise at the voice, but her voice was instantly muffled by a large, warm hand, and she was dragged into a hard chest.

She immediately knew it was the chest of the stranger she’d been walking with, and panic seized her mind.

Ino had been trained in self-defense from an early age. Her father worked for the state and if a criminal with a grudge ever decided to get back at him, his daughter was the first person they’d choose since his wife had died in childbirth. She was quickly aware of the fact that this potential abduction had to do with the human sacrifices case, and therefore elbowed her captor in the stomach and slammed her foot on his instep with all the strength in her body.

He only grunted and then gripped her tighter, punishingly.

“Sasori no danna, get a move on, yeah,” the man growled. Ino screamed against and tried to position herself to jab her heel into his groin, but he was holding her too tight and his grip was too strong.

She hadn’t paid attention to the man she was now facing, too busy trying to get free. Why wasn’t anybody helping? What the hell was going on? But later, she would wish she had, because one minute she was trying to figure out why no one was paying any attention to someone clearly in trouble, and the next, she was unconscious.

Chapter Text

Sakura fumed as she walked up the stairs to her boss’s admittedly beautiful home at the center of the Uchiha clan compound in Tokyo. It was hard to tell too much in the dark, but even without being able to take in much of Madara’s home, it was very apparent that it was a building that had had no expense spared.

How typical of her boss—well, he was an Uchiha, so perhaps that it explained it. It did not, however, explain why said man was such a bastard.

The Uchiha clan compound was really just a somewhat segregated neighborhood where only the Uchiha were allowed to live. The segregation was by choice, of course—no one would dare discriminate against one of the most famous clans existing since the Meiji era. They were practically royalty to conservatives, and liberals also held them in high regard. It was one of the reasons Sasuke was so popular at Konoha College, even though from an objective standpoint, he was kind of a…no, he was a huge asshole. Sakura hadn’t been willing to see it until the day she had met her boss, but even now when she saw Sasuke, she would sometimes feel her cheeks heat. It was the just the kind of effect Uchiha males had on the female population.

She stomped up the front steps and glowered at the door in front of her. Apparently, Madara was the only Uchiha she knew who didn’t have that effect on her. Sasuke’s older brother, Itachi, had made her a blushing, stammering idiot when he had visited her high school, and even Sasuke’s father was very handsome. His mother, Mikoto, was possibly the most beautiful woman Sakura had ever seen. The Uchiha were just beautiful, and that was that. It was a fact of life.

Similar to how having naturally pink hair would get you teased mercilessly, Sakura thought uncharitably as she reluctantly knocked on Madara’s front door.

It didn’t even take him a moment to answer the door. Sakura frowned upon seeing the bane of her existence, clutching the file folder with the documents her boss needed even more tightly to her chest.

“Hello, Sakura-san,” he greeted, his tone neutral and unassuming. Sakura wasn’t sure whether it would have pissed her off more if he had been cheerful, but she knew that this casual address angered her just as well. “Come in. I’ve put the tea on.”

Sakura hesitated for a moment, her brain suddenly overloaded with emotion and too full to process rational, logical though. How could he-? Why-? When did-? What the-?

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Sakura screeched, nearly throwing the file folder into the air and scattering the papers everywhere when she gesticulated wildly. “Do you even know what I had to go through just to get these stupid, god damned files to you?”

Madara continued to watch her with that infuriatingly neutral expression. Sakura’s chest heaved, her anger seething and preparing for another go as soon as she caught her breath, when he spoke. “Come in if you are going to make a scene. Decline the tea if you wish, but don’t get the police called because of your temper tantrum.”

Sakura felt herself go a shade of what she thought might have been plum purple, her rage was flying so high. But, acknowledging that pissing him off would only make life worse for her in the long run, she stepped into the house, already planning out her next verbal assault. It would cut deep, deep enough that if it had been a weapon, perhaps a kunai or some other knife, it would have drawn copious amounts of blood.

But she didn’t get a chance to go off at him, because the tea pot reached a boil and there was a high-pitched scream from the kettle, startling her from her furious thoughts. He walked away, and while she regained her balance and prepared to get going again, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want that tea?”

“No, I don’t want the fucking tea!” she screeched, matching the tea pot’s pitch.

“Very well,” Madara replied, not affected by her fit at all. “But I do have a very rare Darjeeling that was just came in yesterday. It’s truly-”

“No. Fucking. TEA!” she yelled, and then, overwhelmed by sheer emotion, she began to cry, clutching the file folder to her vest like a lifeline as she sank to the ground.

There was no response to her quiet sobs other than that the kettle stopped its terrible noise and the smell of a truly delicious tea wafted to her nose, which was runny from crying. She heard Madara take a seat and the fragrant scent grew stronger as the tea seeped.

A long silence passed and Sakura gathered herself, wiping her tears away from what she considered a most shameful performance. Of course, her anger had certainly been warranted, and she still probably could have yelled at her boss for a week straight for all the injustices he’d imposed on her, but crying hadn’t been in the game plan.

She settled the files on the table, taking a deep breath. The tears had released something in her, because she was no longer angry now, just defeated, and perhaps it was better this way, because Madara would certainly lash out at her later proportional to how much she disrespected him now. She still could have said some scathing words, but now she could see that it wouldn’t benefit her in any way.

Madara was apparently insistent for her to drink the tea. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

Finding no more energy or wherewithal to argue with him, she sighed in resignation and said, “Yes, I’d like some tea.” She figured that since she was here, she could accept the tea that probably cost more than a week’s wages and took a seat.

Madara went to prepare it for her. She watched him for a moment, but then her eyes were torn to her surroundings.

The interior of the house was not nearly as traditional as she might have imagined. There were doors just like any other house instead of shoji, and there was carpet and tile instead of tatami mats. She wasn’t sure why she had expected him to be living in a house out of the Meiji era, but she had. Instead, to her left was a comfortable sitting room with expensive brown leather couches that she assumed were made of actual leather, a large modern television set, and an ornate ottoman as well as a mahogany coffee table.

It was also a much smaller house than she had envisioned. There was obviously much more to it—she was pretty sure that this whole area was something of a place for greeting unimportant or untrusted guests and not at all half of the house like it appeared. The kitchen had no refrigerator, microwave, or dishwasher—in fact, now that she saw it, it looked like it was only there specifically to brew tea. How unnecessarily lavish.

Sakura wondered if Madara had servants and if he did, why they weren’t doing this for him. Eight was late to her, but she imagined that a man of Madara’s stature wouldn’t have a problem have servants around the house 24/7 if he so wished it. There were kinds of people whose dream job would be to serve royalty, or as good as, like Madara.

She came back to the present when he set down a cup of tea in front of her. It was already fully steeped, and Sakura thought that she must have been staring off for a while. She picked up the delicate china with care and took a slow sip.

It quickly became her opinion that this tea was to die for.

They sat in silence, though, because other than whatever Madara wanted her for, they really didn’t have much in common besides that. As she continued to sip the tea and take in her surroundings, she felt herself growing sleepy. The tea was just that good, apparently.

“I sh-shhh-”

Sakura stopped speaking abruptly when she heard how badly her words were slurring. Her eyes should have felt wide with alarm, but instead her eyelids drooped dangerously and she was having a hard time piecing together thoughts.

She started swaying just as Madara stood up, and he caught her as she fell sideways.

“Whhhhaaaaaa djou-” What did you do? she wanted to ask, but then her eyes closed without her permission and all she felt was Madara’s strong grip on her, and vaguely the feeling of him breathing in her scent. She knew then exactly what he had done, why he had wanted her to drink the tea so badly.

She had been drugged, and that was her last thought as she fell limp in his arms.

Waiting was the worst part, Madara decided as he leaned against the wall opposite his bed in his bedroom. There was, after all, not quite enough room on his bed to lie down, what with his Sakura occupying it so fully. He could have sat next to her in one of the spaces where she wasn’t splayed out, but then he wouldn’t get to watch her the way he wanted to.

She was deeply unconscious. When he had considered how to get Sakura’s submission, he had taken many factors into account, not in the least her stubbornness. He easily could have overpowered her, of course, and while violence was largely a part of his fantasies concerning her, he rather hoped to not make any mistakes that could ruin his plan. There was always that small chance that she would get away, and while it wouldn’t affect him with the courtrooms in his pocket—they wondered how he had such a perfect record and that was exactly the reason, although he didn’t always need bribery to get his way—he wasn’t willing to risk that chance. Once Sakura realized that he would do whatever it took to claim her and keep her, she would know to stay away, and he knew that she was stubborn enough to ruin her own future if it meant avoiding him.

Hence, he had come up with the safe idea to drug her, just for a short while, before taking her.

He’d wait until it had fully worn off, of course, as he had no intention of letting her forget anything that took place between them. From now on, she was his, and he planned to occupy every facet of her life.

Regardless of whether she wanted him.

Just as he was about to become annoyed, Sakura stirred. Her arms twitched as though to come to her sides, and they resisted because of the leather tying her arms to the bedposts. Her legs, free because he wanted her available for any position he might choose, curled up towards her chest, and then her eyelids fluttered.

He saw the confusion on her face as her eyes opened wildly, taking in her surroundings with fear. He saw her become terrified when her arms refused to budge from where they were tied, saw her frantically looking around until she focused on him.

“What the hell?” she spat, but there was terror lacing her tone behind the bravado. “Are you seriously going to rape me?” Her voice was full of much more than the jeering mockery of her words. He knew she had been expecting something like this since he had manipulated her into becoming his employee, but he rather thought that she had also been expecting to be allowed to turn him down.

But Madara was just as stubborn as she was, except with much more power to take what he wanted.

“If that is what you choose for it to be, then that is what it will be,” he said, not taunting or sarcastic—it was as he said. If she decided to consent, then it would not be rape, but he was willing to overlook little snares in his line such as lack of willingness or the word ‘no’ in order to get what he wanted: Sakura, body, mind, and soul.

“How can you-What-I don’t-” she spluttered, obviously not find the right words she wanted to use in her disbelief. Then her voice grew small. “You wouldn’t really…”

“I would,” he confirmed, starting to approach her slowly, deliberately.

Sakura didn’t seem to think so highly of taunting him anymore. “Please, Madara…” He was pleased that she had removed the honorific—he knew she was doing it because she felt no respect for him, but he liked to think it portrayed just how close they would soon become. “Please, don’t do this…You’re making a mistake…”

“I’m not,” he told her as he finally reached the bed and stroked her long, smooth leg. She flinched away from him and screeched.

“No! Stop! I won’t let you!”

“You have no choice,” he replied calmly.

He saw the panic on her face, the tears in her eyes as she tried to free her arms and couldn’t. He watched her struggle into a sitting position so as to better defend herself, but it only allowed him to get onto the bed and sit across from her, taking in her naked body.

He had avoided looking at it while she was unconscious, focusing on only her face so as to not grow overeager while he waited. But now, he could take in at least some of it, and the teasing aspect of this hardened him much more quickly than he would have liked, but no more than he had expected.

Her knees were pulled to her chest, so the peaks of her small breasts were hidden by them, but he could see their upper curve and the fullness that awaited him. He took in her slender but strong arms; her lithe, toned legs; her pale, unblemished skin. But through the crack of her legs, he could see paradise waiting for him, nestled beneath a small thatch of pink curls, just like her hair. His mouth salivated.

He couldn’t wait, couldn’t draw it out like he had planned, not when she was so supple and beautiful, staring at him with those large, fearful green eyes. Standing, he began to undress himself.

“No, please, no!” she begged, and the sound was music to his ears. However, he didn’t deign to reply as she fought as hard as she could to released herself. But when she maneuvered herself to start gnawing at the leather, Madara knew he had to put a stop to her rebelliousness.

He could have threatened her, but he much preferred to do it physically.

Shedding the last of his clothing, he walked up to her and grabbed a fistful of hair. She shrieked as he yanked her head away from the leather ties, and she began to cry in earnest.

“Please, Madara, please don’t do this! Please, you’re a better man than this!”

He smirked at that, and waited until she made eye contact with him before saying, “No. I’m not.”

But he released her hair and instead got back on the bed. He could feel a fire raging inside him, begging to be quenched by Sakura…his Sakura.

Without fanfare he pulled her legs away from her body and then leaned over her. All the while she screamed and begged, but her pleading fell on deaf ears.

Tonight, and forevermore, Haruno Sakura was his, and he sealed it with a kiss.

Sakura reared back when she felt Madara’s lips on hers, but she couldn’t go far back enough to evade. She twisted and turned, but he took her face in his hands and forced her to be still while his tongue probed her lips. She gritted her teeth, and thought that in his moment of distraction, she’d be able to kick him where it would really hurt, and then maybe he’d think twice about attempting to violate her.

But all her shifting did was distract her, and he forced himself into her mouth while simultaneously pinning her with his body and stifling any offensive moves she could have made.

She choked in disgust when he moaned and moved his hands to grasp her breasts. She wanted to buck him off, but thought better of it; she could feel his arousal against her belly and she didn’t want to egg him on any more than she had to in order to get free.

Because no, Haruno Sakura did not give up, even in the face of someone like Uchiha Madara.

Then his fingers were plucking at her nipples, pulling and twisting and forcing them to attention. To Sakura’s disgust, she felt the slightest stirring of arousal, but it was easily squashed when she remembered who was doing this to her.

He pulled away, panting. “You’re delicious,” he said, and she was sure it was meant to be praise, but all she could feel was loathing so deep and overwhelming that it made her want to vomit.

Her hatred must have shown on her face because he chuckled, and then one hand left her breasts, toyed with her lower lips, and then pushed inside her with unrelenting force.

It unclogged the gates of her fear, to have his finger inside her. “Please, no, please!” she begged, tears filling her eyes at the realness of all this, and where she had once decided not to try to buck him off, she couldn’t help twisting her hips to try and get him out of her, thrashing her body to and fro. Hot tears dripped down her face, but all he did was begin to pump inexorably in and out of her, the friction making her skin crawl.

“Please, please,” she begged, but she didn’t only beg him; she begged her arms to overcome the leather and fight free, she begged herself to grow strong enough to get him off her, she begged the gods to save her from this fate, because surely something this terrible couldn’t be happening to her. Not her.

“You’re tight,” was all he said in response, removing his finger and licking her scant juices from it. Then he positioned himself above her and said, “This will hurt.”

She screamed, crying and bucking and thrashing, as he aligned himself with her opening. She did everything in her power to prevent him from making connection, but all he had to do was grip her hips with his strong hands and pin her in place before positioning himself.

“Grit your teeth,” he ordered, as if somehow trying to make this better for her. She didn’t listen, still fighting futilely.

But when he pushed inside her, too big to fit, especially without her lubricating juices, she found herself doing exactly as he ordered while whimpering and seething her pain.

Madara made several smaller thrusts as he sought to push as much of himself as he could inside her. The tears leaked hotter and faster now, and her jaw hurt from clenching. A low whine came from the back of her throat when he fully seated himself, and when he paused, the ragged sobs of defeat came.

“Please, why are you doing this?” she asked weakly as he stayed still, possibly to let her adjust. “Please…why…why…”

“Shh.”

And then he pulled out and pushed in again.

It hurt, hurt like nothing ever had in her entire lifetime. It was worse than breaking a bone; it felt like her very soul had been stabbed and gutted like a pig, a huge gaping wound where she had once been whole.

He set a steady pace, thrusting in and out until she was lubricated, and she thought it was probably blood from her loss of virginity, as she wasn’t aroused in the slightest.

Once he had set his rhythm, he began to pepper her neck and face with kisses, gentle and affectionate and oh so sick. He licked away her tears until she jerked to get him off her, and then he settled for pulling a peak, taut with fear and pain, into his mouth and lavishing it with attention.

Despite her skin crawling, a jolt of arousal filled her abdomen, and she gritted her teeth as his path inside her slickened that much more.

Eventually, it was too much. She faded out, conscious but not there, and when he grew rough, probably to bring her back, she only retreated further.

“Sakura, look at me.”

She heard him, but didn’t.

“Sakura.”

He was growing more insistent.

“Sakura.”

The slap to the face brought her back at last, and she cried out, terrified and angry and why hadn’t he let her escape? Why do this but not allow her any reprieve?

She had no words to describe his treatment of her, none at all. She didn’t have any words for him at all, in fact.

“Good girl,” he said, and then he was thrusting so hard and fast that the bed moved with him—while Sakura didn’t, and was forced to accept the pain he was pushing into her with every movement.

She began to cry again, but silently, her tears leaking down her face and onto the bed, and then he came inside her, thick, hot liquid invading her and then leaking out, just like her tears. He grunted with the pleasure, and once he was done, without pulling out of her, he collapsed onto her artfully; he wasn’t suffocating her physically, but he was so close she could smell his personal scent, and it made her want to vomit yet again.

It was a parody of cuddling. She was tied up and limp and he was curled around her like the lover that he wasn’t. He kissed her gently, and she pulled away in only a token effort, because what else was there to do? He didn’t care whether she wanted it, or him, or anything—he just took, took everything from her.

He sighed and then pulled out at last. “Mine,” he murmured into her ear, and she shivered in disgust. In response, he kissed her on the tip of her nose and then deftly untied her left arm.

Gasping with relief and realizing this was over, she moved so as to better allow him to release her other arm. But all he did was pull her naked body into his and hold her to him.

“I’m-I’m not going home?” she asked in a tearful whisper. But she already knew the answer.

“This is your home.”

She had not, in fact, known the answer, and of course when she was wrong it would be that much worse for her.

Crying quietly, she let him hold her as he fell asleep, and the only thought her traumatized mind could come up with was, My arm’s going to be numb in the morning.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Her arm was, in fact, numb in the morning.

Sakura woke up blearily, and after only a split second of disorientation, she remembered and promptly wished she hadn’t.

As she came into her surroundings, she felt the hot puffs of air against the crown of her head, gently disrupting the hair there. A warm body—too warm, sickeningly warm—was pressed up against hers, naked and breathing and alive. An arm like iron was wrapped around her waist, and Sakura didn’t dare move in case she woke him up.

Because to her great disgust, that monster—he wasn’t a man, he wasn’t even human to her anymore—had become hard in his sleep, and she didn’t dare provoke a response in him.

She felt like she should be crying, because something was definitely broken inside her, but her eyes were dry. So was her mouth, for that matter. Probably a side effect of the drugging. But no craving for water could get her to stir, no panicked thoughts about what happens now? would she let increase her breathing and cause him to wake. She lied still, hardly willing to breathe deeply in case it woke him up.

She wanted to go home, but she knew that wouldn’t be happening.

This is your home.

What was worse was that he could enforce that if he really wanted to. The people who could truly stop him were few, and those who would be willing to stop him were none. She was trapped.

Sure, she lived with her parents, and they might put up a fuss, but they were commoners. Not in the feudal sort of sense, but they held no sway over the monster. Ino’s father had more, being the descendent of a once thriving clan, but he was the last descendent and the Yamanaka line was so obscure in the public eye that it would take work to get the public on her side. But that was assuming that she could even convince people that the monster had raped her, a young college student who someone like him should never have taken a second glance at. Ino’s reaction was proof of that, and they were best friends.

Most people would be inclined to be on his side, and no one would believe that he had raped her. Nothing short of a video of what had happened would convince anyone, and even then, she wouldn’t put it past a jaded population to think it was staged.

Sakura was trapped, and she didn’t know what to do other than flee the country. While it would be barely financially feasible, the bigger obstacle would be getting away from the monster for any period of time long enough to catch an airplane.

She had a feeling that the monster would be keeping her close by to prevent any such action, because the monster was terribly smart and knew her a little too well without her permission.

When there was the slightest movement behind her, Sakura quickly inhaled and held her breath, willing herself to stay steady and not move a muscle or make the slightest sound.

The monster shifted and pressed himself closer to her, but did not wake. She exhaled slowly and with utmost control. Sakura wasn’t going to risk breathing out too sharply and ruin her fine work of keeping him asleep.

But the problem was that he would wake eventually, and she would have to deal with him again. Thinking quickly, for after that movement she was certain her time to herself was going to be cut short, she tried to figure out what her options actually were right now. Did she play along, or play her part? He was expecting a fight from her, and she wasn’t so sure she wanted to give it. The violence he had displayed at her attempt to free herself the night before—an ingenious idea, gnawing through the leather like that, and if she could she’d try it again—had been frightening. She wasn’t so sure things wouldn’t escalate to physical violence, and from there, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill her.

She hadn’t realized just how much she didn’t know the monster. She had never thought it would be all that relevant to her life, and now it could literally be a matter of life and death.

Without her permission, a single tear escaped her eye. She hadn’t even noticed it building up.

There was a gusty sigh from behind her, and Sakura stilled. He shifted again, pulling her even closer so that they were contoured against each other. Sakura felt bile rise in her throat at the way his manhood pressed so insistently against her lower back, at attention and so ready to hurt her again.

She knew the monster was awake when he nuzzled into her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Sakura feigned sleep when he propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over her, gently stroking her side as one would pet a cat. Only the utmost exertion of willpower prevented her from shuddering or flinching away.

His hand went lower, probing her lower lips. Now it was a struggle not to clamp her legs together, but she told herself that if she feigned sleep, he might lose interest and go do his morning ritual, whatever that was, which would allow her time to get herself loose and run. It might be her only chance.

But he continued to probe, gently massaging something that sent zings of pleasure through her, and she fought to maintain her charade. Then he leaned down and licked the shell of her ear, nibbling on her earlobe with just enough pressure to tease. Sakura attempted to keep her breathing steady, but when he blew on the wetness he had left behind, she shivered involuntarily and took a sharp breath.

The monster pulled her legs apart further and she was pretty sure that the gig was up, so she tried to clench her thighs together while still refusing to acknowledge his presence.

“I knew you were awake,” he murmured into her ear lasciviously, pressing his hardened shaft against her.

Sakura’s breathing hitched and she tried with all her might to keep calm and at the same time not relax her struggles against him. But he was stronger than her and was able to pry her legs open, slipping one knee in between hers and then suddenly he was aligned with her.

She was shocked at how quickly he had positioned himself and so could barely comprehend the situation when he began to press himself inside her. Going rigid seemed to be her only defense with his arm curled so tightly against her, preventing movement.

He slid inside with a single thrust, and Sakura felt dirty and weak and terrified and furious all at once. It hurt, not as bad as last night but she was still sore, but the fullness was the worst part. There was too much of him and too little of her, and as he began to thrust, hitting deep inside her without care for her pain, Sakura felt tears of shame and fury leak from her eyes. She felt sobs build in her throat, but refused to let them free.

The monster moved slow, languidly, every thrust deliberate. Sakura clenched her jaw to fight the overwhelming emotions vibrating within her, begging to be let out. She clamped down on them as hard as she could, fighting for calm, even as the back of her throat ached with the magnitude of what she was feeling.

“You’re very quiet,” the monster whispered to her, hissing at what must have been a particularly pleasing movement. “Does it hurt?”

Sakura did not deign to answer, shutting her eyes as though she could block out what was happening.

One thrust, then another. “It doesn’t have to,” he told her as though sharing a deep, dark secret. “I can make it feel good.”

Still she was silent.

“Don’t be like that,” he mockingly whined, moving his hand to pinch her nipple. She flinched but made no sound. Something must have happened below, though, because he groaned, thrust harder, pinched again, repeat. “So good, Sakura-chan, so good.”

Sakura’s whole body wracked with disgust at his words.

“Like that,” he hissed. “Just like that.” He was thrusting powerfully now, hurting her more with every movement. And then he jerked particularly hard and despite her best efforts, she whimpered. He kept doing it until she made a sound of pain with every forward thrust.

She finally broke, tears wresting themselves free from her eyes. “Please, stop, it hurts!”

And just like that, his strokes gentled. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She began to cry helplessly. The monster kept going as she cried, grunting and groaning, and then he released himself inside her with powerful, painful thrusts before pulling out at last.

He leaned over, kissed her cheek, and then got out of bed.

Sakura was unmoving.

She was somewhere dark and damp. That was about all she could make out, though. Darkness because she couldn’t see, damp because she could smell mold. She tried to move, and discovered a third thing: she was bound to whatever she was lying on, because she couldn’t move her hands and feet more than a couple of inches in any direction.

Ino took deep breaths and tried to remember her training. Her father had coached her when she was old enough about how to handle a situation like this—the danger to her was very real, though very few knew about it. Ino knew she had mentioned something about it to Sakura, but Sakura never really realized the magnitude of what she was talking about.

In truth, Ino herself hadn’t realized it either.

She kept her eyes wide open, waiting for them to adjust. Her small, almost nonexistent pupils dilated wide to take in as much light as possible, and eventually she could make out a few features of where she was being kept.

It was a prison cell or something of the sort. She was definitely underground. There was a dripping in right hand corner of the room that was only noticeable once she fixated on it, and then it wouldn’t leave her consciousness. The only sound besides that was her breathing, and then her stomach when it growled lowly in protest of lack of food. It wasn’t worse than what she’d endured during more stringent diets, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable.

Her thoughts went to her kidnappers. Deidara and Sasori. She had never met them before, hadn’t even heard of them or known they existed, so they must be criminals that either her father didn’t know about or hadn’t seen as a threat. Ino was starting to consider the former. Deidara was a northerner and could pass as a masculine female if he didn’t speak. Sasori…well, she’d only caught a glimpse of red hair and honey colored eyes, and that he wasn’t of the tallest stature. But there had been a coldness about him that sent shivers down her spine, and Ino knew that if there was anyone holding her captive that she didn’t want to see again, it was him.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before a flickering fluorescent light above her came alive. The brightness hurt her eyes and she winced, but as soon as she gave in to the urge to shield herself, she remembered that she had to be alert, and that meant keeping her eyes open, so she forced her eyelids apart. She couldn’t help squinting, though, and when she heard clanging footsteps coming down the hall, she did her best to sit up. However, what she could now see to be zip ties held her down steadfastly, and the nape of her neck prickled at the thought of her utter helplessness and vulnerability.

The footsteps revealed a monster of a man, nearly seven feet tall with skin so sallow it was a greyish-blue, with tattoos all over her arms and even on his face—they looked like gills almost—that just screamed yakuza. Ino took his features in quickly: pale grey eyes that looked distinctly unfriendly and teeth that had horrifyingly been filed into points. In his huge hands, he carried a tray of very unappetizing food, but what really ruined her hunger was the huge gun strapped to his back.

“Dinner time, girly,” he said, and shoved the tray through a little slot cut out at the bottom of the bars. There was no way she would be able to reach it.

She voiced this to him.

“Not my problem.” And he sauntered away, leaving her to stare at food that she might not even be able to stomach but still wanted anyway.

Time passed in slow motion. Ino couldn’t take her eyes off the food, and the longer she stared at it the better it looked. It was just a cup of rice and what looked like cold, congealed miso soup, but she wanted it. From her growing hunger, she could tell that it had probably been at least a day since she had been taken. Her father would know something had happened by now. Would there be search parties? Would someone have reported seeing a struggling blonde girl against two men? She hoped so, but Ino had good intuition, and she had a feeling help wasn’t coming any time soon.

But she wanted the food.

That was her main concern right now. Keep up her strength.

She was regretting her misguided dieting now. She had been using food mainly to stay thin, not concerning herself with working out because she didn’t want man-arms. Now, she would have given anything for man-arms if it meant that she could break free of these zip-ties and get that food, or even further, get out of here.

But she didn’t have that strength, and although she didn’t know it now, she hadn’t reached a level of desperation great enough to reveal the inner strength she didn’t know she had.

So she stared at the food mournfully and lied in the fluorescent light, still and quiet.

Chapter Text

She wasn’t released from the bed for the next several hours, and when he did let her up, he restrained her hands with metal handcuffs, gave her the discarded clothing from the night before, and led her to the bathroom—it was, apparently, the only freedom he would allow her at this point.

Once she had relieved herself and he had released her just long enough to put on her clothes, Madara put her back in the same position as before, except that he fastened her left arm back into the ties.

“I can’t have you running off now, can I?” he said with amusement, responding to her unspoken question. Sakura lay quietly, immersed in her own depressing thoughts.

 He wasn’t going to let her go ever, she could already see that without him saying it aloud. This is your home. She had never wanted someone to take back their words as much as she did now.

Boredom was worse for her than it had ever been before. Just twenty-four hours ago, if she had been bored, she could read a book, play a game on her cellphone, call up a friend to chat, go for a walk—there had been numerous things to do to alleviate that. But even if she hadn’t had anything to do, she hadn’t had dark, miserable thoughts running through her head nonstop, and there was nothing she could do to distract herself from them.

The ceiling didn’t have anything for her to count, the window was curtained, and she didn’t particularly feel like memorizing her surroundings because she was terrified to know that there might actually be a time where they’d become familiar, and that was the last thing she wanted.

She cried a little, tears silently streaking down to the pillow beneath her past her temples, but it didn’t last long. She wasn’t sure if maybe it was shock, but her emotions felt stifled somehow, especially after the morning activities. They were still there, of course, roiling and bubbling just beneath the surface, but that surface was a lid of lead, not allowing any to take root in her psyche. The tears felt more reflexive than of emotion—the physiological aspect of her feelings was apparently not going to be contained by that lid.

She wasn’t sure how long she lied there, but as much as she thought that she wanted to be free, when Madara arrived to free her for the second time, she realized that she would have rather stayed away from him.

“I’m sure you’re hungry,” he said as he undid the restraints. It hadn’t been a direct question and Sakura felt no need to respond, so she settled for rubbing circulation back into her hands.

She didn’t see it, but his brows furrowed momentarily and then he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Come. I’ve made you something to eat.”

Sakura was first surprised, then immediately suspicious, because the last time that she had ingested what he’d given her, she’d ended up in an unenviable position. Still, food was food, and the metal handcuffs didn’t make a reappearance. With her wrists just now getting released from any sort of constraints, she wasn’t eager to pull something to escape when her chances were so low, so she decided that today would not be a day for attempting escape unless it was completely surefire.

She wasn’t going to get her hopes up for any of that, though.

Sakura followed her captor through the house towards the back, where they arrived at a large dining room with two places set. She was momentarily surprised that there didn’t seem to be any sign of life in the household—didn’t he have servants or a chef or even a maid? With his status, surely he would have some? But then again, it was a Saturday, and being the arrogant bastard that he was, he probably didn’t want to be home while the ‘help’ was around.

In a parody of chivalry, he pulled out her seat for her. Sakura sat stiffly and eyed the omelet and rice that had been laid out for her. It was simple, although she wouldn’t have expected anything different. He was having the same, and it surprised her that he would settle for anything less than five-star food. Then again, all her expectations regarding this monster had been disproved; she needed to forget everything she knew about him and start from scratch.

He noticed her hesitance to eat the food and chuckled. “Don’t worry; it’s not drugged. There’s no need for that now.”

She promptly felt like vomiting at his callously blunt words.

When she still didn’t eat, although for a different reason that he apparently assumed, he said, “A hunger strike will not instill empathy in me, Sakura-chan. You’re better off keeping up your strength. It’s not drugged, so eat.”

There was an order in that statement, and increasing impatience. Swallowing down bile, she took a tentative bite.

It was good enough. A little bland, but no worse than she would have done on her own. She ate mechanically, not really tasting the food beyond the first bite to check for odd flavors—because like hell was she going to take the monster’s word on the integrity of her food—until she couldn’t stomach another bite. She pushed her plate away, and upon inspection, found that what had felt like a lot of food had only been barely half of what she had been served.

Madara looked from the plate to her skeptically, then continued eating until he was done. Even though she had no desire to be around him, she knew that getting up and walking out of the dining room—even if it was just to go back to the only room she knew—would not be a good idea. Right now, she had no wiggle room. In fact, other than knowing that he planned to keep her here indefinitely and do horrible things to her against her will, Sakura actually had no idea what was going on.

When Madara was done—he’d eaten everything—he leaned back, sighed contentedly, and then looked at her.

“I’m sure you have questions.”

She stared back at him blankly. Asking questions about her situation felt like implicitly agreeing to what he was putting her through. She wasn’t going to do that.

Once it became clear she wasn’t going to speak, he huffed an amused laugh, but there was a dark undertone to it that Sakura knew held a warning: he didn’t like her silence. However, she wasn’t going to change her behavior until she had ample reason to. At this point, bending to his will without question would only damn her further.

She remained unspeaking.

Something hardened in his eyes and Sakura’s back stiffened of its own accord. “You’re not making this easy, Sakura,” he said, a threat in his voice.

She didn’t care.

“Why would I want to make it easy for you, you prick?” she spat, anger rearing up and taking her vocal chords by storm as though it were a physical entity. “If it’s so damned hard, then just let me go!”

He smiled a razor-sharp smile and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is that how you feel then, Sakura-chan? You want me to let you go?”

“Of course I do!” she snarled. She was unconsciously leaning forward with a contemptuous look on her face, all of her body language showing that she was raring for a fight.

“How tragic for you, then.” He too had been leaning forward, but now he reclined in his chair and watched her closely. “Because that’s not going to happen. The only person you will be making things harder for by defiance will be yourself.”

“Why?” she demanded. Tears were starting to fill her eyes and she wanted them to go away, but there was nothing she could do. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t think that’s important right now.”

She bared her teeth like a feral animal. “Will it ever be important?” she hissed.

He smirked at her keenness. “Probably not, no.”

Sakura felt an impulse to leap forward and attack her captor that was almost impossible to restrain, but she did so in the end, if only because she wasn’t ready for the consequences. She knew attacking him wouldn’t allow her to escape, and whatever part of her mind that was still functioning rationally told her that physical force needed to be utilized at a crucial moment—he was too much larger and stronger for her to wound him in any useful way with an attack he was prepared for. She forced herself to sit back, although she was breathing heavily with repressed fury, and turned her head away, focusing on nothing.

“For now, I expect that you’ll need a few ground rules,” Madara began, his voice even and calm. “Obviously, you’re not to try to escape or leave in any capacity. You’ll do what I tell you to—unless we’re in bed.” She could hear the disgusting glee in his voice. “Then, feel free to defy me all you want.”

It took all of her self-control not to retch in his direction and hope her vomit on him would turn him off her forever. In truth, it would only make things worse for her, and what if he killed her? She had no idea how he would react—she only knew how reasonable people would, and Madara was certainly not a reasonable human being.

“You’ll eat when you’re given food, you’ll bathe when you’re told to bathe, and you’ll behave the way you’re expected to behave,” he went on. Sakura found his last words justifiably questionable.

“And how exactly am I expected to behave?” she asked snidely.

He chuckled. “However I wish you to.”

It wasn’t her imagination: she could feel the burning of food and stomach acid creeping up her esophagus. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to let it out freely or fight it, but either way she was certain that if he continued talking in the same vein that he was, she wouldn’t have a choice in how her body reacted. It was making its intentions perfectly clear.

She was silent once more and he continued. “You’ll drop out of school, of course. You don’t need an education as far as I’m concerned and there are plenty of things to do at the office to keep you occupied. In fact, all you need to worry about is doing what I want you to do—other than that, everything in your life shall be taken care of. You won’t ever want for anything.”

Fighting the urge to throw up, she replied shakily, “Except freedom.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “That is patently overrated.”

She had, at most, ten seconds. “Bathroom,” she croaked, fighting her body’s impulse. She stood shakily and made to move, but Madara quickly restrained her against his body.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked harshly.

“Bathroom,” she choked out. Saliva flooded her mouth. “I’m going to vom-”

She retched heartily then, although nothing thankfully came up, but she knew that the next time it happened, she would lose everything she’d eaten in the last twelve hours, namely the food that had just been made for her. Thankfully, the retch convinced Madara that she wasn’t making a bid for freedom and quickly led her to the nearest guest bathroom.

Sakura didn’t know how to feel that Madara patiently held her hair back while she vomited. All she knew was that she didn’t like the intimacy or concern for her wellbeing that the action conveyed.

When she was done, she was given a toothbrush and toothpaste to clean up with. That also felt invasive, and if she hadn’t been concerned for the state of her teeth, she would have declined. Having a toothbrush at another person’s house signified that you were over there often and felt at home there, enough that you would have something of your nightly ritual stored there. Having one here was just repulsive.

Still, she brushed her teeth and rinsed with water, Madara standing behind her and watching all the while. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking, but she was sure that she would find out soon enough.

She would have thrown up again if she hadn’t already emptied everything from her body.

When she was done, she turned to her captor and waited for him to show her out. Sakura knew that if his immediate reaction to her moving without prior warning or permission was to restrain her, and she knew that his attraction to her must be great for him to go these lengths, and that violence was not a turn-off for him, it was better to let him guide her at this point. She couldn’t handle anything else today.

“I think it’s best that you rest for today,” he said, the slightest hint of concern in his voice. His lips were curled downward in a frown, and Sakura could see nothing good coming of that expression.

Still, she wouldn’t mind resting if it meant being away from him. Sakura rather thought that if she could drown herself in sleep she would—just sleep through everything that he was going to put her through.

Just sleep, and escape.

He led her back to the room she had dubbed her official prison and when he motioned for her to lie down, she did, but when he grabbed her hand to tie it with the leather again, she begged quietly, “Please…it’s so uncomfortable…” She resisted his motion, and he yanked past her feeble resistance and tied it up again.

“We’re not at that point in our relationship, Sakura-chan,” he said, sounding like he hadn’t just nearly torn her arm out of its socket—or so it had felt like.

“Just one then,” she pleaded. “I won’t be able to sleep.” She looked up at him and imagined she was plenty pitiful in his eyes. She couldn’t help that, but if it allowed her to sleep comfortably, or at least not entirely uncomfortably, she would take it.

He assessed her for a long moment, then took her left arm and reattached the leather tie to it so she was forced flat on her back. She cried out, misery tripled by the sheer callous cruelty.

“If you behave, perhaps next time,” he told her, and then exited the room.

As far as captors went, Sakura didn’t think she could do much worse.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Sakura dozed fitfully for the rest of the day, the blessed unconsciousness she sought evading her the moment she got too close. The discomfort the restraints caused had no little role in this.

Sakura liked to sleep on her sides or on her stomach, and only rarely on her back when it was a particularly warm night and she needed extra control of the ventilation from her blankets. Due to this, being forced into the position she was in was exceedingly uncomfortable and the fact that Madara was just simply that cruel caused added fuel to the fires of her resentment.

She’d behaved perfectly well all day, unless one counted the vomiting, which to be fair she’d had no control over. She hadn’t done anything to go against him, had made no escape attempts—yet—and overall had been completely compliant and even quiet about it.

But he couldn’t even leave one hand free so that she could sleep. Not even one, and it wasn’t like she could untie the other one with only one hand. His decision was just needless maliciousness.

Around sunset, the burgeoning hunger that had begun a couple of hours after her nausea had calmed down made itself very clearly known, and she was no longer able to even attempt to doze. She thought about calling on Madara, but it was also getting dark, and she knew what activities many people reserved for the nighttime hours. She wasn’t going to bring that on herself, and what if maybe he wasn’t in the mood tonight? She wasn’t going to trigger it.

Madara came, though about an hour later, carrying a tray with what looked like artfully crafted nigiri. Unless he had the talent of a master sushi chef hidden beneath layers of rapist and disgusting piece of shit, he had ordered out. Despite the sudden loss of appetite at seeing him, the sight of food made her mouth water. It was an odd combination to say the least.

“Good evening, Sakura-chan. I hope you slept well,” he said as he placed the tray down before freeing her right hand. So she was going to have to eat one-handed. Fantastic.

Sakura didn’t say anything, instead opting to struggle with the chopsticks. He snatched them away from her and she looked up at him, deeply offended. Now she was going to be forced to forego utensils?

“When I speak to you, you will respond,” he said quietly but firmly. When Sakura said nothing, he raised an eyebrow pointedly.

“Okay,” she replied slowly and angrily. He broke apart the chopsticks and handed them to her, then motioned for her to eat.

It was difficult, but luckily what she lacked in dexterity she compensated with eagerness. The food was definitely takeout, but probably from a nice place that normally wouldn’t allow takeout if one wasn’t Uchiha Madara. Sakura wasn’t going to worry about that right now though. She’d take what she could get.

“You won’t ever want for anything.”

Sakura abruptly felt ill at the remembered conversation and the food that had just a second ago tasted delicious now felt like ash in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow and then retreated from the tray.

“Are you done?” Madara asked as though it wasn’t obvious.

Sakura almost didn’t respond, but remembered what he’d said and grudgingly replied, “Yeah.”

He nodded and left with the tray. Sakura, now feeling both satisfied and dissatisfied simultaneously, leaned back against the headboard and wondered how she was going to cope with the rest of the night now that she’d been reminded of the terrible conversation that had transpired at breakfast.

She supposed she’d just blocked it out because it was too hard to hear. Now, though, she’d been reminded and she didn’t think she’d be able to avoid it so easily again.

Just as she was about to accept that she was going to be stuck thinking about the information on her captivity that she’d received, Madara returned. At the sight of him, she flinched and curled in on herself.

“Now that’s not very welcoming at all, Sakura-chan,” he chided lightly.

“Leave me alone,” she hissed.

“In my own room?” he said with false incredulousness. Then his tone hardened. “I think not.”

She shrank in on herself as far she could go.

“I am a man with needs, Sakura,” he said, throwing out the suffix and making her feel that much more uncomfortable. “But I also have the propensity to be generous. You can choose how you will pleasure me tonight.”

Sakura stiffened in horror and looked up at him, hoping that he was joking and also knowing that he wasn’t at all. And the way he’d said it—at least he wasn’t pretending he was here to make her feel good. She was inordinately thankful for that, because the only thing that could be worse than being raped was enjoying it too.

“No,” she said weakly, and cursed that she didn’t sound strong.

He seated himself on the bed. “You’d prefer I choose then?”

Sakura turned her head away, fighting tears and clutching her knees to her chest in a flimsy attempt at protection.

Suddenly, her hair was being yanked backwards, forcing her to meet his eyes. She yelped at how close he was, right in her face and looking particularly angry. “Sakura, I told you to respond.”

Pain and his proximity made her panic and she hated herself for it. “P-please,” she begged, trying to move away from him, but he maintained the same distance until she was pushed right up against the headboard.

“Answer the question: do you want me to choose?”

Sakura felt like she was going to be sick. How-how could he do this? Make her complicit in his abuse. But she had no choice. Shuddering, she whispered with almost no voice, “Yes.”

“What was that?” But he was so close there was no way he couldn’t have heard her.

“Yes!” she yelled loudly, hoping it would hurt his eardrums.

He only smirked in satisfaction. “Well done.”

She could feel tears building up in her eyes and her face was hot with shame. However, she was soon distracted by him releasing her hair and also undoing the remaining leather tie.

Madara motioned to the floor. “Get on your knees.”

Sakura jerked like she had just been lashed with a whip. No… no, he couldn’t really mean…

It was too much. She couldn’t—he couldn’t do this. No, no. She wouldn’t.

His eyes narrowed at her defiance, and he gripped her bicep punishingly. “Sakura, don’t make me angry.”

She was shaking too much though. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. All she was able to do was stare at him with horrified, pleading eyes, begging him to just drop it, to not make this happen, to just not do this.

He stood and dragged her to the edge of the bed until she fell off, and only his bruising grip stopped her from collapsing to the ground. However, when he released her, she crumpled to her knees anyway, tears streaking down her cheeks and muted sobs building in her throat.

Ignoring her, he took his seat at the edge and unzipped his trousers before freeing that thing, and Sakura choked on air at the length, at the girth, at the very image of what she was supposed to put in her mouth. The tears streaked hotter and faster and she bit her lip hard, punishingly, as though she could glue her lips together with her blood and he wouldn’t be able to force her to do this.

“Up, Sakura,” the monster ordered. “Take me in your mouth.”

At the thought, she retched, but he wasn’t fazed by it this time. A hand fisted in her hair and brought her shrieking to her knees, her mouth even with his groin. Sakura clenched her jaw together in refusal, and the hand in her hair pulled her up until she was screaming and fighting against his hold.

Then, suddenly, she felt something hot and silky and hard force its way into her mouth and she gagged, but it was now there to stay. “Now suck.”

She sobbed against his cock but the hand released her and all she could do was steady herself on the bed with her hands and tentatively close her mouth down around it. Bite it off, she thought venomously, but already knew that wasn’t an option.

Not yet, at least.

Tears still coming hard, she bobbed her head up and down, trembling with revulsion but unable to do anything about it. The monster’s hand stayed on her head, guiding gently, and she longed to shake it off, but couldn’t without angering him and making it worse for herself. She sobbed around him and he groaned in pleasure, which prompted another sob.

“Mm,” he hummed appreciatively.

Sakura paused, unable to keep doing this with his disgusting sounds ringing in her ears. The hand ‘guiding’ her quickly moved to the back of her head and forced her down so that he went past her mouth and down her throat. She screamed, choked, and tried to pull away, but he held her tight until she was sure she was going to suffocate.

 “Did I tell you that you could stop?” he growled, barely audible over her own panic. Sakura didn’t care; she leveraged her arms against the bed and pushed, and she was free at last.

For only a moment, though.

“Sakura, Sakura, Sakura,” the monster said, sounding terribly disappointed as he stood, cock still erect and glistening with her saliva. “You just can’t behave, can you?”

She had to run. There was no other way to end this. It was only going to get worse from here.

Sakura scrambled away, but she was caught around the middle and pulled into him. “Let’s try this another way.” He turned her around and forced her to her knees again.

Then there was no chance for her to fight. He rammed his cock down her throat, she screamed, and he held her head in place with a firm grip on her hair and forced her to meet his thrusts with her own momentum.

When he came, there was so much it flooded into her mouth and he hissed, “Swallow.”

With him still halfway down her throat, all she could do was comply.

And then he released her and she fell to her hands and knees, choking and willing his essence to come back up, give him something to clean, but despite her revulsion it was stuck inside her. She coughed and sobbed and collapsed on the ground as he wiped himself off and then tidied his appearance.

“Could use some work,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Sakura screamed.

She spent the rest of the night crying helplessly, so much and so loudly that Madara stuffed her mouth with—with her panties—and fastened masking tape over her lips. Her sounds were muffled then, at least enough so he could sleep, and then all was silent in the through except through her heavy breathing through her nose.

It was a night of hell on earth.

As to be expected, she eventually exhausted herself and fell into fitful slumber full of nightmares. In every one of them she was suffocating, something stuck down her mouth and throat, and she woke up terrified because there was something in her mouth and she couldn’t spit it out and her lips were taped shut.

Madara slept in, his breathing even and peaceful the entire time while Sakura laid there, unable to stop crying now that she was awake. Her tears didn't seem close to even slowing, despite the rawness of her cheeks and eyes. It was starting to hurt; she wanted to stop crying.

But it hurt so much. She didn't know what would happen if she stopped expending her pain.

When he finally opened his eyes and sighed contentedly, Sakura moved as far away from him as her restraints would allow.

It wasn’t very far.

He rolled over and faced her teary, bloodshot eyes and puffy red cheeks. “Sleep well?” he asked, the question nothing short of cruel.

She clenched her eyes shut, unable to look at his smug face, and shook her head because he wanted an answer and she was afraid.

Sakura flinched away when she felt a large hand caress her hair and then cheek. “It will get better, Sakura-chan. You just have to behave.”

She choked on a sob but said nothing. In that moment, she almost hoped he was right.

That had been…horrific. Such an evilness should not exist, should not be allowed to exist. But it did, and it had happened to her.

The monster had happened to her.

She started crying again.

The hand caressing her did not cease. “Shh. It will be alright.” Then he was pulling her into his body and she couldn’t do it, couldn’t do this, but she couldn’t push him away either. Her body was strung tight as a wire and she spasmed erratically, terrified, in his hold.

 He just continued stroking her hair and held her more tightly. “Shh, shh.”

After a moment, he pulled back and removed the masking tape from her mouth as gently as he could. It still hurt, the adhesive having melded against her skin because of her body heat, but he would have torn skin if he had done it any faster than he had. Then he, again gently, pulled her panties out of her mouth. Ragged sobs escaped her immediately.

“I think it’s time I show you something,” he said like an announcement. “To preserve your sanity.”

Those words were almost heartening. She didn’t particularly care what he was going to show her, but preserving sanity seemed like a good idea to her. She didn’t want to lose herself here. She had to hold on to the hope that she would someday be free of him forever.

But when his hand crept between her thighs, she realized he wasn’t going to ‘show’ her anything she wanted to see, and she began to thrash. “No! No! No!”

He gripped her tightly and held her still, a knee wedged between her thighs to grant access. “Trust me, Sakura. This will be good for you.”

“I will never trust you!” she shrieked, and Madara twitched violently, like he had wanted to hit her. But he restrained himself for whatever reason in his twisted mind, instead choosing to part her lower lips and press his index finger against her clit. She felt absolutely nothing other than disgust, but he was persistent. Sakura told herself she would be just as persistent in not responding.

But slowly, a small flame built up inside her from the pad of his finger insistently rubbing against her in a circular pattern that somehow ignited her body’s natural reactions. Still caught in his grasp, Sakura keened miserably, but he wouldn’t let up until she was slick and wet.

“There,” he said softly. He shifted his body so he was aligned and she screamed, struggling ineffectively against him, and then he sheathed himself inside her.

She began to cry again. “Please… please, stop,” she begged.

“Hush. It won’t hurt this time.” As if that was a good thing.

But he was right. Her own lubricating juices allowed him to slip in with—not ease, but little resistance. He filled her too much, until she was bursting, and she could hardly believe he could fit himself entirely inside her. But then, that would explain why it had hurt so bad before.

Madara began to move in small increments, ostensibly letting her adjust, but Sakura knew he wasn’t even that kind. She shivered in revulsion, especially now that her body was reacting in a much different way. He angled himself and pressed against something inside her that she had never felt before, only ever seeking her clitoris when she had masturbated. But the monster was touching this deep, almost sacred part of her, and it felt good.

She gasped harshly at the zing that shot through her, and then she started to fight again. No, no! This couldn't be happening!

“Shh,” he continued. “Shh.” And he continued that hated movement until he was moving in and out of her with true ease and her body seemed to welcome him inside her like he was coming home.

He was right, it didn’t hurt—not physically, at least. There was something shattering in her and she felt heat flushing her cheeks, her body strung taut like a bowstring, the fluctuation of internal muscles around him.

Madara moved harder, with greater, agonizing accuracy, and she felt the urge to move back against him. Inside, she screamed at herself to resist the urge.

However, her body seemed to have a mind of its own. As his speed increased, her hips reacted, and she felt broken but couldn’t stop it, a soft gasp escaping her through her grimace. There was a soft squelching noise from where they continued to connect. Sakura felt sick.

Then he was pounding into her, and it should have hurt, but it didn’t, not the way it had before. She was on fire now, muscles twitching as writhed, not sure how to process these sensations. Madara released his tight grip on her and started to gently tug and roll her nipple between his fingertips, lancing a whole new fire through her.

“See? It’s not all bad. If you’re good, it doesn’t have to be bad at all.”

Sakura barely heard him but knew on some level that whatever he had said, she disagreed with it because he had said it. Instead, at one particularly rough thrust, she shattered around him, milking and clenching him like a vice. He groaned, a lewd, pleased sound that she hadn't heard before, and he released himself inside her. They had all but come at the same time, together.

Madara panted as he came down while she remained shuddering around him. He hadn't pulled out yet, too dazed, and she was overstimulated. His cock, though softening, was still touching the part inside her that had wrung her body dry of everything, and it hurt.

"Please…" she finally whispered, trying to wiggle away. "It hurts…"

In a baffling lack of cruelty, he pulled out of her at last, and his semen started to leak out of her at last. She couldn't even spare a thought for how much she hated the sensation.

"So, Sakura-chan," Madara said, "how was it? Not so bad, hm?"

Not knowing what to do other than not anger him, Sakura nodded. It wasn't in agreement; instead, it was a mechanical motion because that was what was expected of her. He untied her then and she shifted away, curling in on herself.

It was difficult to think, even more to feel. She wasn't sure what to do if he could actually make her enjoy it. What happened next? Did he train her to be his little slut so he could rape her whenever he pleased? He had made it clear he wanted it to be rape; he'd told her to fight him in the bedroom. But that would have to get boring eventually—he had implied differently, but what happened when he got bored? Was she discarded like trash? Would there be other survivors of Uchiha Madara? Or… did he kill them? Did she face death once he lost interest? He was thorough like that. She'd just disappear, body left to rot in his no-doubt spacious backyard. She thought him killing her after everything might be a mercy compared staying alive after even these last few days.

It was like a switch was flipped, and suddenly couldn't care anymore.

“Come, let’s get you fed,” he said, affection in his voice. She didn't—couldn't—hear it, because the monster was a monster and held no regard for anyone except himself, but she obediently followed him into the dining room. He wasn’t bothered when she sat down naked with his essence still leaking out of her, creating a mess to be cleaned, but rather stared at her fondly.

Again, she didn’t notice the warmth shown. She was in another world, one split between the will to live and the will to die; one foot on earth with the living, and one foot in hell, ready to die.

He gave her food she didn't taste but ate like he wished, too numb to deny her body its needs and too gone to think of disobeying. He led her back to the bedroom into the bathroom and bathed her with hands that were gentle and unassuming. He washed her hair without pulling or tugging and once rinsing her off, he combed it for her. Even that act of intimacy was lost on her.

He took her to the bed and she laid down without thinking, automatically raising her arms into the desired position for him to tie her up, face expressionless.

"Sakura."

She turned to him and blinked. His narrowed gaze met hers and she realized he was irritated with her.

Oh. She hadn't responded.

"Yes?" she replied blankly. She didn't really care about what he had to say. She couldn't; feeling anything felt beyond her. She was safe in her cocoon of brokenness, or whatever it was she was feeling, and she wasn't safe anywhere else. She wanted—no, needed—to stay here for the rest of her life.

In the next moment, she was facing the wall opposite him, right cheek on fire. She blinked back reflexive tears. It hurt, a lot. She wasn't even sure what it was for. Should she apologize?

This was too difficult to decipher. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she turned back to him.

He looked angry now. Roughly, he tied her arms back up and left with a parting, "Don't move."

Like she could. She settled in and ignored her discomfort.

Safe here. Not anywhere else.