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moor
Prompt: Fake Dating
Rating: T, maybe M later
Squicks: Misunderstandings, loss of family, misunderstood intimacy
A/N: The prompt comes into play later; this is just the intro. :)
#
Squicks: Misunderstandings, loss of family, misunderstood intimacy
A/N: The prompt comes into play later; this is just the intro. :)
#
At four years old, Tobirama rubbed his sore eyes, frowning at his big brother.
“It’s late,” mumbled Tobirama, dragging his blankie behind him as he glowered at Hashirama in the dim light provided by the lamp above the keyboard. His little jaw cracked with his yawn. He’d heard Hashirama playing and followed the notes to the music room in their home.
Hashirama, age six, sat atop the stack of books piled upon the piano bench so he could reach the keys. He grinned at Tobirama and ruffled his hair.
“Go back to bed, Tobi. I’ll play with you later, promise.”
#
#
Ashen, Madara, age sixteen, looked down at the pathetic child gazing up at him with ancient, oak-leave eyes. She had no expression, yet she understood everything around her, he was sure. Seated on either side of her were his nephews, Itachi and Sasuke. They each held one of her tiny hands.
“You’re sure there’s no mistake,” he asked, trying and failing to maintain his composure. His sister, his brother-in-law…
“You’re their legal guardian now, as was laid out in their will; including little Sakura-chan, their adopted daughter.”
Madara swallowed, nodded.
“Of course I accept,” he said.
#
#
Izuna had a late-night practice, damn it!
Madara had banked everything that week on Izuna being available. He dreaded leaving the children with someone they didn’t know, so soon after losing their parents. He wanted to be a steady presence for them, but he was stretched thin between school, the clan business, the kids and now, his music.
All he’d wanted was a little time to himself, for the music…
He groaned, his elbows noisily came down on the keys of the piano and he held his face in his hands.
Peeking from behind the door, Sakura watched him.
#
#
Madara stiffened at the muffled shuffling behind him.
The light over the piano cast the rest of the conservatory in shadow, leaving him alone at night to work—usually.
He turned back to the sheet music and added another note in the margin, picking up the melody where he’d left off.
He started when a little tug on his shirt distracted his focus again. Behind him, a gasp had him turning. Sakura-chan, in her little nighty, slippers and blankie, watched him with wide eyes.
She glanced at the bench, and he sighed.
“C’mon up,” he lifted her. “But bedtime.”
#
#
His brow furrowed. No, it still wasn’t quite right…
Madara played the tune through again, more slowly.
Curled up into his side on the piano bench, as she always did at night now, Sakura listened quietly. Luckily, no one had noticed the cushion and extra blanket he’d brought into the music conservatory, to keep Sakura warm when she joined him there when she was supposed to be in bed. It had become their custom to sit while he played, and he carried her to bed when she drifted off.
He continued studying his original composition, while Sakura silently studied him.
#
#
“What do you mean, family responsibilities? Izuna can look after himself for a night. You promised you’d play in the Battle of the Bands this weekend, Madara. How am I supposed to find a replacement on short notice?”
As Madara explained, tight-lipped, Hashirama’s expression and heart crumbled.
“I had no idea,” whispered Hashirama. He squeezed Madara’s shoulder. Madara had become head of his clan far too young, and now he was head of a family, too. Tragedy dogged his best friend’s every footstep. “Whatever you need, just ask.”
Madara huffed, rubbing his temple. “A babysitter.”
“… I have an idea…”
#
#
Tobirama and Izuna glared at each other across Madara’s front foyer.
This is a bad idea, thought Madara with a sinking feeling. But the weight of his promise, and guitar case, forced him to rely on Tobi to watch the younglings. He worried most about the one whose tiny fingers almost never left his.
“We must go out for a bit, so Tobirama will be looking after you,” explained Madara to Itachi, Sasuke and little Sakura-chan. “I’ll be back late.”
“You promise you’re coming back?”
Sakura’s shivery voice was tiny. He knelt in front of her, voice soft.
“Ah.”
#
#
Itachi was remarkably mature for his ten years, and Sasuke immediately trotted off after him when Itachi offered to make them some snacks. That left Tobirama and Izuna staring at each other while the last child curled up on the floor of the foyer, staring at the door, her tiny fists clenched tightly under her chin and bottom lip sucked into her mouth.
“If you touch anything—,” began Izuna, stepping forward.
Tobirama ignored him; in the corner, those Old Soul forest eyes had filled with silent tears that leaked down her cheek.
“What is your name?” he asked her gently.
#
#
Her little hands clasped together, she stared at him, paling.
Izuna huffed but came to sit beside her.
“Her name is Sakura-chan. She only really speaks to Madara,” explained Izuna. He looked down at the little girl, his expression softening as he put an arm around her, gently. She snuggled into him. “She’s been through a lot.”
Tobirama stared at Izuna, at the protective note in his voice.
“Sakura-chan, this is Tobirama. He’s going to take care of you tonight. Madara and I will be back as fast as we can, okay? You won’t be alone,” he promised.
#
#
Tobirama had no idea how to look after a little girl. Luckily, after Izuna left, it seemed Itachi did. So Tobirama spent his evening watching Itachi look after his younger siblings, ordering pizza and washing dishes while Itachi played games with them or read to them. Itachi told him that they had bathed before Madara left earlier that evening, allaying another fear.
“You didn’t even need me here,” noted Tobirama to Itachi.
“I’m not old enough to care for them alone,” said Itachi. “Not legally, yet.”
The responsibility in Itachi’s tone implied that he fully intended to do so, though.
#
#
Madara, elated and exhausted, arrived home after midnight. He found Tobirama sitting in the living room, on his phone. “How were they?” he asked, immediately scanning the room.
“You could have told me that Itachi would do all the work,” chastised Tobirama, though quietly so as not to wake the children.
Madara’s shoulders sagged. “He takes too much on. But understood. Thank you for staying with them. Did they all go to sleep?”
Tobirama nodded. “Sasuke snuck into Itachi’s bed, but Itachi didn’t mind.”
Madara nodded. “He does that. And Sakura-chan?”
“Sakura-chan’s gone,” gasped Itachi from the door.
#
#
TBC
