Work Text:
Under a sprawling cerulean sky, Izuna was patiently adjusting Sakura’s grip on her sword in the training courtyard. Not far away, Hikaku leaned against a wooden pillar, arms crossed, watching the rookie’s first foray into swordsmanship with an amused glint in his eyes.
Just as the atmosphere reached a peak of harmony, Madara strolled in from out of nowhere. He stood observing for a moment before suddenly dropping a bombshell.
"Why did you ask Izuna?"
Sakura and Izuna froze. Madara stared at Sakura with a face so unnervingly serious it felt like a trial. "Izuna’s swordsmanship favors speed." He continued, as if stating the most obvious fact in the universe. "But for someone with your dense chakra reserves and monstrous strength, my style is the most optimal. Why didn't you ask me to teach you?"
Time seemed to grind to a halt.
Izuna’s mouth twitched uncontrollably. ‘Nii-san…' He thought. ‘Who was the one calling her a weakling who didn't know her place just two days ago? And now you’re trying to scout her as a disciple?’ He truly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his brother's selective memory.
Hikaku was equally speechless. ‘The Madara who looks down on women and the Madara who wants to mentor Sakura... How are these even the same person?’
Sakura stood rooted to the spot, her wooden sword nearly slipping from her hand. She looked at Madara as if he were some alien species. One minute he was berating her with every harsh word in the book, insisting women should stay quietly in the rear and the next, he was telling her she ought to follow his combat style? The contradictory logic of this Uchiha man was enough to give even a genius medical ninja a sensory overload.
Madara, meanwhile, remained nonchalantly poised with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer, totally unaware of the awkwardness he had just unleashed.
"I... I think Izuna-sama is a better fit." Sakura stammered, casting a sideways glance at Hikaku who looked utterly perplexed and Izuna whose shoulders were shaking from suppressed laughter.
Hikaku let out a long, weary sigh, feeling the desperate need to diffuse the tension. He stepped forward and took the wooden sword from Sakura’s hand. "Alright, that’s enough. Izuna-sama is buried in work, and Madara-sama certainly has no time for this. I’ll take over Sakura’s training myself."
"Enough, Hikaku. She didn't ask you. Go deal with that pile of paperwork and the Senju dispatches."
‘Well, it’s not like she asked you either.’ Hikaku started to retort, but ultimately swallowed his words.
After a fair bit of back-and-forth bickering, Sakura remained firm in her choice of Izuna as her mentor. She thought she had finally escaped Madara's whims, but she had gravely underestimated the stubbornness of the Uchiha clanhead.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Izuna’s grueling and relentless sword drills had Sakura ready to collapse onto the training grounds just to remember how to breathe. His strikes were so blazingly fast that merely keeping up required every ounce of her concentration. Unfortunately for her, the day’s streak of bad luck was far from over.
Just as Izuna reached out to help her up, a massive shadow loomed over them. Madara, his face a mask of cold indifference, snatched Sakura by her obi belt and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Enough resting. Izuna’s technique is too soft, it’ll get you killed in no time." Madara pronounced coldly.
"Hey! Madara-sama! What on earth are you doing? Put me down!" Sakura shrieked, her legs flailing wildly in the air. But against the overwhelming strength of the Uchiha patriarch, her resistance was about as effective as a newborn kitten’s.
Ignoring her protests, Madara marched straight toward the deep woods where he usually practiced his more destructive jutsu. Izuna watched his brother commit this blatant kidnapping and silently offered a prayer for Sakura’s soul.
Madara’s tutoring was a literal nightmare. He bypassed wooden practice swords entirely, using raw chakra pressure and live strikes to greet the beginner.
"Dodge! Too slow! Do you plan on using compassion to parry this?" Madara barked, hurling insults to provoke her between strikes. Sakura had to summon every drop of her monstrous strength and evasion skills just to keep from being smeared across the rock face. With her hair a bird's nest and her training kosode shredded and soaked in sweat, she looked utterly pathetic.
After three hours of non-stop torment, Sakura lay flat on the ground, unable to twitch so much as a finger. Madara stood atop a high boulder, arms crossed, looking down at her with his signature haughty gaze.
Gasping for air, Sakura glared up at the arrogant man, her indignation momentarily overriding her fear of him. "Has anyone... ever told you... that you are the most... loathsome man on earth?" she wheezed out through clenched teeth.
Madara raised an eyebrow, a rare spark of amusement flickering in his Sharingan. His lips curled into a smirk as he gave an answer so nonchalant it nearly made Sakura faint from pure rage
"Frequently. But I don't care."
He leaped down from the rock, stepped up to her, and delivered the finishing blow to her morale "Five minutes of rest, then we begin genjutsu sparring. Don't make me use Izanagi to save your pathetic life just because you were too stupid to pay attention."
Just as Sakura was about to scream, Hikaku appeared. Unable to watch any longer, he stepped in, shielding Sakura from Madara.
"Madara-sama, she’s reached her limit. If you keep this up, her body will break," Hikaku said in a low tone, his eyes reflecting a fierce protectiveness that made even Madara pause.
"Hikaku-san..." Sakura looked at him, her eyes brimming with tearful gratitude.
"The Uchiha still need her medical expertise, and the infirmary reconstruction needs her supervision. If you wring her dry like this, how is she supposed to work tomorrow?"
The surge of gratitude in Sakura’s heart died instantly. ‘He just wants to save my strength so he can exploit me for labor later.’ Sakura’s face darkened as she cursed both Madara and Hikaku a hundred times in her head.
Madara glanced at his strategist, then back at the half-dead Sakura. He let out a cold huff. "You coddle her too much, Hikaku. A weapon not forged in fire will always be mere scrap metal."
With that, Madara turned and walked away, leaving the two in silence. Hikaku knelt down, gently draped Sakura’s arm over his shoulder, and hoisted her onto his back. This time, Sakura had no strength left to fight, she instinctively rested her head against his sturdy back, mumbling "All of you... you’re all just obnoxious Uchihas..."
Hikaku sighed softly. "I know. But it’s these hateful men who are going to keep you alive."
Seeing Sakura so battered after Madara’s massacre, Hikaku felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Back at the medical ward, he helped her into a chair, his rough hands trembling slightly as they brushed against the dark bruises blooming on her fair skin.
"Are you sure you want to push yourself this hard? Your strength and medical ninjutsu are already enough for the battlefield, you don't necessarily need to hold a sword." Hikaku’s voice dropped, carrying a trace of worry he couldn't quite hide. "Just focus on healing. I only want you to be safe."
Secretly, Hikaku thought that if she remained just a little bit weak, it might be easier to keep her by his side. He feared the day she became so strong she no longer needed his protection or worse, that she would dive into a suicidal battle to change the dark future she so often dreaded.
Contrary to his expectations that she would nod in weary agreement, Sakura suddenly burst out laughing. It was a radiant, nostalgic smile that left Hikaku dazed.
"This is nothing, Hikaku-san." she replied airily, rubbing her aching shoulder. "Back when I trained with my Master... oh boy, that was a true living hell."
Hikaku frowned. "Your Master? Another medical ninja? What kind of person taught you that made Madara-sama’s torture seem normal?"
"Master Tsunade was... intense." Sakura said, her eyes shining with pride. "Once, she landed a kick that shattered my ribs and sent me flying into a stone wall. But the second I managed to use medical ninjutsu to patch myself up, she was already yelling at me to get back up and keep going. She taught me that if a medic isn't more durable and stubborn than a frontline warrior, they'll die before they can save a single patient."
Hikaku grew pensive. He realized he had to look at this small girl through a different lens. He had assumed those from the future lived in luxury, sheltered by naive ideals of peace. But no, Sakura was the product of a regime every bit as brutal as the Warring States period.
Her soft, cherry-blossom exterior was merely a shell for a will of tempered steel. Her previous capture and near-assault by outsiders hadn't been a lack of grit, it was simply because Madara had sealed her chakra.
"Broken ribs... and you had to keep training?" Hikaku repeated, his voice hushed.
"Exactly. So, as hateful as Madara-sama is, his teaching style actually reminds me of her." Sakura said with a squinty-eyed grin, her exhaustion seemingly evaporating as she reminisced. "So don't worry. I'm not as fragile as you think, Hikaku-san."
Hikaku fell silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, his hand which had intended to hold her back, clumsily patting her head instead. "You truly are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met."
"I don't want to hear that from an Uchiha." Sakura grumbled, gently swatting his hand away.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Hikaku-san, I was thinking I should probably learn archery so that-" Sakura began tentatively, catching Hikaku at the training grounds.
Hikaku’s mind immediately started whirring with tactical calculations. Archery was a brilliant idea, it would keep Sakura at a safe, comfortable distance from the enemy. He was just about to nod and say "Fine, I'll find you the best bow and-"
"Fine. I shall teach you."
A low, gravelly voice cut Hikaku off, vibrating with an undeniable authority from behind a massive ancient tree. Madara stepped out, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes burning with his usual brand of insufferable arrogance.
Hikaku froze, his unspoken words choking him. He stared at Madara with a look that clearly asked What is actually wrong with you? Madara, the man occupied with a mountain of political conspiracies and high-stakes warfare, was suddenly free enough to teach a medical ninja how to hold a bow?
Without waiting for consent, Madara strode forward and hoisted Sakura up by her collar like a stray kitten, marching her straight toward the archery range. "Uchiha archery is nothing like the mediocrity you see elsewhere. You have monstrous strength, if you don't learn to channel chakra into your arrows, you’ll just be wasting a perfectly good bow."
Sakura looked like she wanted to cry but lacked the moisture. She shot a pleading look at Hikaku for help, but found him standing there like a statue, the picture of utter helplessness.
"Madara-sama... I think Hikaku-san would be perfectly capable of teaching me..." Sakura offered a weak protest.
"He’s too slow." Madara replied coldly, not bothering to look back. "I will teach you how to fire an arrow that can pierce a partial Susanoo. Stop whining."
That afternoon at the clan’s archery range, a truly bizarre scene unfolded. Madara stood directly behind Sakura, his large hands enveloping hers to adjust her draw. His murderous aura made passing shinobi shiver and dive for cover, yet he remained maddeningly patient as he forced Sakura to hit bullseyes from impossible distances.
As Sakura tremblingly drew the bowstring, she cursed her luck internally. ‘Is anyone in this Uchiha clan actually sane? Sasuke-kun, I want to go home!’
During one particularly grueling set, Sakura’s hand slipped, sending an arrow overcharged with her raw strength veering toward the main estate. The projectile obliterated a structural pillar of the building. Instead of being furious, Madara let out a booming, hearty laugh. "Good! That’s more like it!"
Witnessing this earth-shattering display, Izuna began to fear for Sakura’s life. The Uchiha Vice-Head tried to reason with his brother. "She’s a woman, nii-san. Her physical build isn't the same as a man's. Go easy on her."
Madara stroked his chin in thought for a moment before decreeing. "You're right. Triple the intensity of the training, then."
The entire training ground fell into a deafening silence. Sakura, who was gasping for air with sweat dripping off her chin, felt her heart drop into her stomach as her emerald eyes widened in horror.
Izuna stood there, a vein throbbing in his temple. He had been trying to subtly suggest that women should be treated with a bit more grace and delicacy. Somehow, Madara’s logic had taken a turn that no sane brain could have predicted.
"Nii-san, my point was that her stamina is lower. You should decrease the workload," Izuna explained with forced patience, praying Madara was just joking.
Madara glanced at his brother, then turned a razor-sharp gaze back to Sakura. "Precisely because her physical stature is inferior to a man's, she will die in an instant against a stronger foe if she only trains to a woman's standard. The only way for her to survive and stand on equal footing with us is to compensate for physical lack with triple the skill and will." The logic of a man who treated the battlefield like his living room was truly beyond conventional bias.
He smirked, a flash of ruthless pride in his expression. "Tripling the intensity is the only way I can ensure she doesn't end up as a pretty corpse in front of the enemy."
Sakura slumped, hands on her knees, her head spinning. She thought ‘Master Tsunade might have broken my ribs, but at least there was some mentor-student warmth there. This guy doesn't even look like a teacher, yet he’s ten times stricter than Lady Tsunade ever was.’
Izuna could only cover his face and let out a long, weary sigh. "That’s my brother for you..." he muttered. "Zero sense of how to treat a lady."
Instantly, the archery drills were elevated to a terrifying new level. Madara decided static targets were boring. He ordered Uchiha shinobi to hurl small stones through the air at high speeds, which Sakura had to snipe while simultaneously dodging the fireballs Madara would casually toss her way to create pressure.
"Faster! Are you crawling?"
"Where are your eyes? Use your chakra sensory!"
Madara’s roars echoed through the forest. Sakura was so exhausted she could taste blood in her throat, but the stubborn pride of a Sannin’s apprentice wouldn't let her quit. She gritted her teeth, drawing the string until her fingers bled, her green eyes burning with a cold, defiant light.
When a massive fireball lunged too close, instead of dodging, Sakura abruptly flooded her arrow with a massive surge of chakra. The Byakugou seal on her forehead flickered with power.
THWIP!
The arrow tore through the air with a sonic boom, piercing the heart of the fireball and shattering the target stone behind it with an explosive crack.
Madara froze. His eyes flashed with a mixture of shock and sheer satisfaction. He looked at Sakura, who had collapsed to the ground in total exhaustion, her pink hair a mess, but her spirit still blazing.
He walked over. This time, he didn't sling her over his shoulder like a bag of rice. He stood over her with regal authority, arms crossed. "See? If you had trained normally, you would never have touched that limit. Get up and go rest. Tomorrow, we quadruple it."
Sakura "..."
Madara’s sheer tyranny was the final straw. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fainted on the spot.
Hikaku immediately rushed in, scooping her up before Madara could even think about another drill. He shot Madara a look of pure reproach and turned on his heel, heading straight for the medical ward.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Izuna leaned against the trunk of a massive tree, his Sharingan deactivated, yet his gaze remained sharp as a needle. He watched his brother standing tall in the center of the archery range, barking unreasonable demands and shouting at Sakura.
A bizarre thought suddenly flickered through Izuna’s mind ‘Is my brother... actually having fun?’
Izuna knew Madara better than anyone. Madara was a workaholic, a battle-junkie, and a man constantly crushed under the weight of the clan’s survival. Usually, to blow off steam, Madara would either hunt down Hashirama for a world-shattering duel or paint the battlefield red. However, lately, the war had stalled due to the rainy season, and Hashirama was bogged down by internal negotiations.
And so, Sakura had appeared like the ultimate stress ball.
She was stubborn, so Madara never got bored of scolding her.
She was resilient, so Madara could push her without worrying she’d drop dead instantly.
And her reactions were so vivid unlike most shinobi who simply trembled in terror before the Uchiha patriarch.
Izuna narrowed his eyes, noting the way Madara’s lip curled when Sakura shattered a stone. His esteemed elder brother was grinning as if he’d just been liberated from a mountain of annoying paperwork, there wasn't a hint of a proud mentor in that expression.
Izuna decided to test his theory. He approached during a brief lull, letting out a small, fake cough. "Nii-san, if you're feeling drained by the elders' nonsense, I can handle it for you. You don't need to vent your- I mean, you don't need to personally exert yourself by training her like this."
Madara shot a look at his brother, his face instantly snapping back into a mask of cold, stern gravity. "Drained? Izuna, I am concerned for the clan’s future. A weak medical ninja is a liability. I am simply removing that liability. Do you truly think I’m just taking my frustrations out on her?"
Izuna was silenced. The reason Madara gave was so noble and focused on the greater good that it was impossible to argue. But watching Madara eagerly prepare a fresh set of genjutsu traps for Sakura’s next session, Izuna was more certain than ever ‘Nii-san is absolutely using Sakura as a stress-relief toy!’
Meanwhile, Sakura, the unsuspecting victim, genuinely believed Madara was invested in her growth. She whispered to Hikaku as he bandaged her hands. "Madara-sama might be insufferable, but he’s truly dedicated to this training. I can't let him down."
Hikaku could only offer some noncommittal responses. He glanced toward Madara, who was surreptitiously watching from a distance, then back at the naive girl in front of him. Hikaku thought to himself ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Sakura. Madara-sama is just using you for entertainment because he can’t go play with Hashirama.’ But sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.
The peak of the absurdity came when Madara forced Sakura to learn how to fire a bow with her feet while her hands were tied, just to simulate being captured.
Izuna protested weakly. "Nii-san, this is a bit too much..."
"Silence, Izuna! This is high-level escape artistry!" Madara retorted.
Sakura, straining every muscle to keep from bursting into tears, shouted at the top of her lungs. "I... I can do it!"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The relationship between Sakura and the head of the Uchiha clan had taken a bizarre turn. After weeks of being battered and bruised on the training grounds, Sakura realized that Madara, no matter how godly his power, was just an incredibly stubborn patient.
The initial paralyzing fear had been replaced by the professional instincts of a top-tier medical ninja. Seeing Madara begin to abuse his Sharingan while ignoring every medical red flag, Sakura decided she was done staying quiet.
One evening, Madara was buried under a mountain of strategic blueprints, his eyes shot through with angry red veins from exhaustion. Sakura marched in carrying a bowl of medicine that was practically billowing steam.
"Madara-sama, it’s time for your medicine and rest." She set the bowl on the table, her voice ringing with iron-clad resolve.
"Leave it. I have work to do," Madara replied coldly, not even deigning to look up.
If this were the version of Sakura who had first arrived in the Warring States period, she would have surely retreated. But now, she stood her ground, arms crossed, staring down the patriarch.
"You're right, your willpower is immense. Is it so immense that you plan on using it to replace your eyesight entirely? Do you intend to lead the Uchiha by groping around in the dark because you’ve gone blind?"
Madara froze. His Sharingan swirled to life, burning as he glared at her. "You dare to insinuate such things about my capabilities?"
Sakura didn’t flinch. In fact, she doubled down with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "I’m not insinuating anything; I’m saying it straight to your face. A great leader who is so terrified of a bitter bowl of medicine that he makes excuses about being busy ... It really makes one reconsider that strength you're so proud of."
The room plunged into a state of absolute, deafening silence. Izuna, who was eavesdropping from the roof, broke into a cold sweat. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to intervene before Madara sent Sakura to the afterlife in a single heartbeat.
Madara stared intensely at Sakura. He felt a peculiar surge of irritation at being read like an open book by this girl. He loathed the taste of traditional herbal medicine with every fiber of his being, but he hated Sakura's challenging and slightly pitying look even more.
"Fine!" Madara growled. He snatched up the bowl and downed the contents in one go, leaving both Sakura and Izuna in utter shock.
He slammed the bowl back onto the table, his face contorting from the vile bitterness coating his throat. "Satisfied? Now get out before I change my mind and toss you into a genjutsu for your insolence!"
Sakura cleared the bowl. A small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. It felt like sweet payback for the physical torment he’d put her through recently. Nevertheless, she added a gentle reminder. "I’ll bring a different dose tomorrow morning. Make sure you sleep on time, unless you want me coming into your bedroom to wake you up with my monstrous strength."
Once Sakura had vanished from sight, Madara leaned back into his zaisu chair, muttering to himself. "That girl... who on earth did she learn such defiance from?"
‘Well, isn't it obvious, nii-san? You're the one who's been rubbing off on her.’ Izuna thought, still perched on the roof to prevent a homicide, letting out a weary sigh.