based on one randomly found funny picture lol

I like the self-confident Madara, who at the age of a little older than a sucker gets a wife for ever (another lol, because in fact he is not a sucker, but an ordinary 13-year-old boy)

I’m not sure how many of you have heard of the shipping wiki, but to sum it up, it’s a great resource for fanon ships where people can make pages dedicated to their ships that better explain why people ship them pretty in-depth. So, considering how much madasaku has grown, I was thinking it was high time I made a page.

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

The Protégé 1

The Protégé 2

The Protégé 3

Edit: I almost forgot to add this super important note: A thousand thank yous to my regulars who have followed this story from the get-go. There are a few of you who never fail to show their appreciation and never forget to leave an encouraging comment. Don’t think I don’t notice you, you stalkers ;). I am immensly thankful for your feedback and your comments, they keep me so motivated and give me a sense of validation, like this isn’t just some sort of private thing that I only create for myself and nobody else gives a shit about it. If five hundred people read my story without leaving a comment or anything and I’ve only got the few reviews from you guys, it’s still enough to show me that my work is appreciated. So thank you!

Note: For those of you who are as confused about orchestral stage etiquette as I am and have no idea what’s going on with the whole handshake thing in this chapter, here’s what I found out about it while doing research for chapter four: The first violinist in an orchestra is also called the concert master, he represents the entire orchestra and functions as a sort of “team captain” if you will. So whenever the maestro invites a soloist, the soloist is supposed to shake hands with the maestro (thanking him for the invitation basically) as well as the concert master (though there are variations to this, some only shake hands before the performance, some before and after, etc.). By shaking the CM’s hand, the soloist essentially thanks all of the other musicians for their collaboration as solo concertos are usually a group effort, and you know the soloist can’t go around shaking the hands of a hundred people so they usually only shake hands with the CM *gasp* wow that was a long explanation. Aaaaaaanyway, here’s a video of the concerto Sakura is performing in this chapter: Camille Saint-Saën’s Cello Concerto No.1 in A minor. 

Enjoy, have fun reading, let me know if you liked it, leave a comment, send a carrier pigeon, send a smoke signal, you know whatever floats your boat. You know the drill. 

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“A little to the left. Chin up. Perfect, stay that way.”

Sakura had trouble not squinting her eyes when the photographer unleashed another onslaught of camera flashes upon her. She was currently in his studio doing a photo shoot for the orchestra’s and the theatre’s official websites. Her probation period was over, and they were only a week away from kicking off their tour after their first performance at home, so now the New National Theatre was going to officially announce her as the principal cellist of Maestro Uchiha’s ensemble complete with interviews, articles, videos of her rehearsals, and ridiculously over-the-top photographs.

The nickname the press had given her after her solo in Sapporo spread like wildfire, and the orchestra’s publicist decided to capitalise on her image as the Imperatrix Furiosa. So they put her in a majestic velvet evening gown dyed in a scandalous scarlet with a skirt wide enough to allow her to spread her legs to accommodate her cello on the throne-like chair she was currently sitting in. Her hair was tied up into an overly dramatic and intricate updo and fastened with fancy kanzashi hair pins that were sticking out in such a manner they made it look like she was wearing a crown.

The dress and accessories paired with the red lipstick and dramatic eye make-up made her look every bit the Furious Empress and the enticing femme fatale of Japan’s classical music scene the publicist wanted her to portray.

And Sakura hated every second of it.

“Do you think you have enough pictures now?” the young cellist asked tentatively while trying to hold her unnatural pose.

Deidara, the orchestra’s publicist, looked up from the laptop where her photographs appeared right after being snapped. “Just a few more, sweety. You’re doing great, though.” He gave her an encouraging thumbs-up and shot her an apologetic smile. Great, Sakura mused silently, she must have looked more uncomfortable than she thought. And here she was thinking she was good at hiding it.

“Seriously, though, we need to wrap this up. She’s got rehearsal in an hour, and Madara will chop off my head if his MVP is late,” Sakura heard the blonde publicist explain to the photographer. She sincerely hoped the heavy make-up was covering the deep blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks at his remark. Did her Maestro really tell the publicist she was his most valuable musician?

“No grinning, please,” came the photographer’s command from behind his lens.

Right. Stop daydreaming, Sakura reminded herself.

Straightening her back and schooling her features, the pink-haired cellist remained motionless on her make-shift throne. After a few more minutes of clicking, snapping, repositioning, and flashing, Sakura was finally free to get out of her dress and wash off all that make-up. She undid her complicated updo and gathered her hair into a high puffy ponytail. Putting on her pastel green boat neck dress with box pleats and slipping into her simple white ballerinas, she immediately felt more comfortable, like her young and goofy self and not the mature and seductive diva the photographer wanted her to be.

“Chop-chop, darling. Maestro Menacing is waiting for you.” Sakura was torn from her thoughts at the sound of Deidara calling out from the other side of the closed door. The young musician had to supress a smirk at the sound of the nickname she knew the publicist secretly used for her Maestro. He wasn’t entirely wrong, Mr Uchiha really could come across as menacing and unapproachable. But Sakura had gotten to know another side of him over the last weeks as well. There was a gentleness to him he only rarely showed, tiny little smiles of satisfaction and subtle gestures of encouragement. As much as she appreciated his constructive criticism, she loved his nods of approval and his well done, Ms Haruno’s even more.

And she couldn’t wait to prove herself to her Maestro during the upcoming tour and hope for a bit more of his praise she so selfishly craved.

After Deidara and Sakura left the photographer’s studio, they immediately headed back to the theatre where the rest of Maestro Uchiha’s ensemble was already preparing themselves for one of their last rehearsals before kicking off their tour. Sakura took her usual seat to the right of the conductor’s music stand. She was so busy tuning her cello, she didn’t even notice her Maestro approach his podium.

“Ms Haruno.” A deep voice made her look up in surprise and she was met with the sight of the raven-haired conductor casually leaning on the rail of his podium with his strong arms crossed in front of his broad chest, clad in a meticulous three-piece suit sans the jacket.

The young cellist prayed to God her blush wasn’t as visible as she thought it was.

“Yes, Maestro?” she answered in a small voice.

“How was the photoshoot?”

Sakura gave him a weak smile and chuckled softly. “Honestly? It was horrible. They dressed me up in this heavy, floor-length gown and backcombed my hair so much it looked like I had a bird’s nest on my head in the end. And I had so much make-up on I could literally feel my pores dying a horrible death by asphyxiation. Please don’t look at the photos once they upload them.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. But if it makes you feel any better, I will not go actively looking for your pictures. Though I have to admit, I would love to see a pink bird’s nest.” Her Maestro’s teasing grin made her giggle, and Sakura looked up at the raven-haired conductor with a huge smile on her face.

Just in that moment, she could hear the sound of a camera shutter from her left. Both her Maestro and Sakura turned around in surprise and spotted Deidara standing in the middle of the countless rows of seats with a camera in his hand.

“Finally. Do you know how difficult it is to get a photo of two people together who both hate to pose for pictures? You two are a publicist’s nightmare, but you’re lucky you’re so goddamn photogenic.”

Sakura turned to Maestro Uchiha and looked at him questioningly. With an annoyed eye roll, he explained, “Deidara said he needed a picture of the two of us together for our countless social media profiles. He wants to make a post about me welcoming you to the ensemble or whatever, and apparently, I cannot officially welcome you without a picture.”

His obvious annoyance with the blonde publicist elicited another laugh from the young cellist. Sakura watched her conductor narrow his eyes at her before his own lips spread into a tiny amused grin.

“Alright, that’s enough giggling now, Ms Haruno. If you keep enjoying my jokes like that, the other members of my orchestra might start to think I actually have a heart.”

Biting on her bottom lip to keep herself from chuckling at his quip and again hoping that her blush wouldn’t betray her, the young cellist focused her gaze on her sheet music and readied her instrument for the rehearsal. The other musicians took their seats as well, filling up the vacant space around Sakura, and fixed their eyes on the conductor.

Maestro Uchiha gave his final orders, raised his baton, and the musicians started playing.

                                                            ---------

“I finally got Naruto to accept my karaoke challenge. He’s going to do Leona Lewis’ Bleeding Love at the bar tonight, you gotta come with us!”  

The pink-haired cellist looked up from her sheet music and was met with the face of her new roommate Ino, the principal clarinet of their ensemble. After her first rehearsal with the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, Temari had introduced her to some people she claimed were the only tolerable ones, and Sakura immediately hit it off with the blonde musician. Not long after getting to know each other, Ino offered her to move in with her after her previous roommate accepted another job in a different city. Though some of her newly found friends in the orchestra, who had all known Ino for a long time now, jokingly advised her against it with the explanation that she’s bi and you’re annoyingly adorable and totally her type, she’ll eat you up and spit you out, Sakura hadn’t regretted a single second of being the roommate of the exuberant and feisty clarinet player.

“Sure, I’ll be there. I just need a minute to talk to the Maestro,” Sakura answered with an amused grin.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ino bounce up and down with excitement. “Yay, it’s gonna be so great. We always go out the night before our first performance, without any alcohol of course,” the blonde musician added in a loud voice, pointedly looking in Maestro Uchiha’s direction before continuing, “but still, you’re gonna have so much fun with us. I’ll see you at home. And don’t be late, missy, I still need to do your makeup.”

Sakura was met with the end of Ino’s perfectly manicured index finger pointed accusingly at her face before the blonde turned on her heel and strutted off the stage as if it were her own personal catwalk.

Gathering her things, the pink-haired cellist made her way to the Maestro, who was currently busy berating his principal percussionist Naruto for goofing around with his timpani sticks during a break and pretending to have a swordfight with his fellow players. She decided to wait for them to finish and came to a halt in the middle of the string section when she realised that their orchestra’s concert master Kabuto was seemingly also waiting for a word with their conductor.

The grey-haired violinist was one of the musicians who hadn’t even spared her a glance on her first day. But while most of them seemed to have come around in the meantime or have at least started greeting their newest member, Kabuto was still adamantly giving her the cold shoulder. Whenever she tried talking to him, Sakura was met with nothing but haughty looks and condescending remarks. Though she had to admit, the moments of interaction between them were few and far between, because Sakura tried to keep them to a minimum. Their concert master was clearly of the highly competitive sort, and Sakura had no intention of letting him drag her into a musical pissing contest.

And still, manners were manners, so the cellist forced a tight smile and greeted him.

“Hey, Kabuto. Excited for our first concert tomorrow?”

The grey-haired violinist slowly turned his head and looked down his nose at her. He studied her for a second with narrowed eyes, as if trying to discern whether or not she was worthy of an answer, before opening his mouth, “I’m sure you are.”

Supressing the urge to roll her eyes at his usual cryptic answer, Sakura instead ignored his remark and cleared her throat. “So um, every CM seems to be handling stage etiquette a bit differently, so I wanted to ask you how you want to do the handshake tomorrow? Before and after, or just after or do you –“

“Honestly, Haruno, I couldn’t care less about the handshake or your solo. But if this really is so confusing to you, why don’t you go ask Daddy for help? It’s not like our Maestro has anything better to do than take his new little girl by the hand and show her how things work around here.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Sakura could feel her cheeks heating up at his embarrassing remark, and she stared at him open-mouthed, stunned into silence. Luckily, she didn’t have to come up with an answer, since Kabuto was approached by another violinist in that moment, asking him whether he wanted to go out tonight.

“No thanks, I’ll be staying at the theatre for a while longer. I’ve got other plans for later,” the concert master explained with a devious grin.

After the violinist left, Kabuto made no attempt to address Sakura again, and Maestro Uchiha was still not done chewing out Naruto. Since she felt so incredibly uncomfortable in Kabuto’s presence, the young musician decided to grab her cello case and leave. Not even the prospect of talking to Maestro Uchiha for a few minutes was worth it, if it meant she had to spend another second in awkward silence with the concert master who seemed to hate her guts.

                                                              ---------

There was a ritual Madara had long formed a habit of going through before every concert he was going to conduct. It consisted of him mumbling every single articulation in chronological order of every piece of that night’s programme while he re-arranged the seats of his musicians on stage. Even though the stage crew of every theatre he ever worked at never failed to position everything correctly, the conductor still felt more at east when he could move every chair and every music stand to just the perfect spot.

Madara was currently contemplating whether to push a sax player’s seat half a centimetre to the left or to the right when he heard a commotion from backstage. He followed the noise to the labyrinth of dressing rooms where his eyes caught sight of three blonde musicians rushing from one room to the next, frantically looking for something.

“What do you mean, she can’t find it. It must be there!” Temari came rushing past him with a handbag before she promptly dumped its content on a table and started digging through it.

“I don’t know. When we got home last night, I asked her if all of her stuff was ready in the dressing room. She told me she checked everything three times, even tried on the shoes just to be safe, because she was afraid they gave her the wrong size.”

Madara watched his principal clarinet go through the countless makeup bags before she turned to another person in the hall. “Naruto, did you check the clothing racks in all the dressing rooms?” Madara’s gaze landed on the blonde percussionist who just entered the room with an apologetic shake of his head.

Clearing his throat to get their attention, the raven-haired conductor leaned against the door frame and let his gaze wander around the dressing room in which the three musicians were currently bustling about.

“Our concert starts in half an hour. I sincerely hope you’ll find whatever you’re so desperately looking for.”

Madara’s accusatory gaze met the desperate look of the blonde clarinet player before she approached him, grabbing his arm and tugging him down the hall.

“Maestro, you need to help us. It’s an emergency.”

Ino came to a halt in front of the closed door of another dressing room and knocked twice before letting herself in. Madara stayed behind, still unsure of what was really going on.

“Oh God, Ino, please tell me you have it, please! I need to be ready before anyone finds out, or before he finds out. Please, we need to hurry, Maestro Uchiha absolutely can’t know about this, or I’m screwed!”

Madara’s heart suddenly lurched in his chest at the sound of Sakura’s distraught voice so close to tears. He took a step forward and entered the room where he was met with the sight of his principal cellist dressed up in her concert outfit, a dark-green fitted pant suit, black patent leather Oxford’s, and a white blouse fully buttoned up – and missing a bow tie.

“Ms Haruno, what’s going on?”

She fixed her scared, wide eyes on him, and Madara was immediately hit with the urge to envelop her in his arms and assure her he’ll make everything right for her again.

The conductor couldn’t help but let his gaze be drawn to her beautiful mouth, invited by the sight of her teeth chewing on her bottom lip before releasing it to speak.

“Maestro, I’m so so sorry, but I … I can’t seem to find my bow tie. But I swear to God it was here. After the rehearsal and before I left the theatre yesterday, I checked if all of my stuff was ready like you told us and I swear to God my outfit was complete, I know I saw the bow tie with the rest of my clothes. But now it’s gone and we looked everywhere and I don’t know what to do. God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” Her voice was shaky and on the verge of tears and Madara had to consciously restrain the urge in his feet to run to her.

He was just about to say something to comfort the distraught young cellist when he heard more voices approaching the dressing room. The maestro turned around to see a small crowd gathered outside the door, all asking and wondering what was going on with their youngest member.

“Nothing to see here, alright? Just looking for a lost bow tie. We’ll be ready any second now, so scram, got it?” The blonde clarinet player fixed the crowd with a stern gaze and waved her hands in front of her to signal the other musicians to disperse.

“Maybe we should help look? I’m sure we’ll find it faster that way. Then we can all get back to our preparations in peace.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Madara could see Sakura’s head shoot up and her eyes widen in surprise at the sound of his concert master’s suggestion. But before anybody could say anything, Kabuto had already turned around and left.

“I’m sorry for troubling you with this, Maestro. We actually promised Sakura not to tell you anything, but we really couldn’t find it anywhere after looking for so long, and now we’re kind of lost.” Ino’s apologetic gaze was shooting back and forth between the conductor and his principal cellist.

“It’s quite alright, Ms Yamanaka. I’m glad you told me. Now I can get to the bottom of this myself.”

When he saw Sakura’s worried expression turn even more desperate, Madara felt like slapping himself. That came out way more threatening than he intended it to. He was just about to clarify his statement when he heard a knock on the open door which made all their heads turn around.

Kabuto was standing in the doorway with his right hand raised, a bow tie dangling from the edge of his middle finger. “You’ll never guess where I found this,” he said in a casual tone, a barely visible smirk gracing his features.

Madara watched his principal clarinet cross her arms in front of her chest. “Oh I’m sure I will.”

Kabuto ignored her, instead stepping into the dressing room and approaching Sakura. “Somehow, it landed in a drawer of one of the dressing tables.” He slipped the bow tie off his middle finger, and Sakura barely had enough time to catch it. “Lucky for you I’m so thorough at everything I do.” He gave her what was probably meant to be a half-baked attempt at a sincere smile and then turned to face Madara, his fake grin widening, before he left the room.

The maestro’s eyes landed on the young cellist in front of him again, who was still staring after the concert master with a look of confusion. He glanced at his watch and cleared his throat.

“Everybody out. I need a minute with Ms Haruno.”

After her friends hesitantly left the room and closed the door behind them, Madara let his gaze rest on Sakura’s downcast head. It was then the maestro realised she was playing with the bow tie in her hand, tugging at it and turning it around between her fingers. She was nervous.

“Ms Haruno, look at me.”

At the sound of his soft command, Sakura slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. Madara had to supress a groan at the sight of her teeth chewing on her bottom lip again.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” her whispering voice pleaded with him.

“I’m not mad, Ms Haruno. I know none of this was your fault, trust me.” He closed his hands over her fidgeting ones and took the bow tie.

“Chin up.”

The young cellist just stared at him for a second, jade-green eyes wide with confusion.

Madara took a step closer to her, put a finger beneath her chin and forced her head up. He then proceeded to turn up her collar and fasten the bow tie around her neck.

“You’re not going to allow this incident to rattle you, you’re better than this and we both know it. Once I call you up on stage, you’re going to walk up there like you own the place, play your solo to perfection, and blow everyone away.” He gave her bow tie a final tug.

“Have I made myself understood, Ms Haruno?” Madara looked down at her with a strict gaze and a tiny amused smirk gracing his lips.

“Yes, Maestro,” Sakura nodded enthusiastically while smiling up at him with a look of pure determination.

“Good.” Madara grabbed her chin between his fingers and leaned closer to her face before murmuring, “I wouldn’t expect anything less form my protégé.”

He watched with satisfaction as a deep blush spread across her cheeks and her jade-green eyes widened in surprise, staring up at him with that look of wonder, reverence, and gratification she only seemed to have reserved for him, as if his praise was the only thing in the world giving her life meaning.

Unable to resist, Madara allowed his gaze to rest on her inviting lips for a split second before letting go off her chin and forcing himself to leave her dressing room.

His thoughts kept swirling around the young cellist even as he stepped onto the stage amidst tumultuous applause. The conductor had to admit that it was a good decision not to have Sakura join the ensemble for the entire programme but only for her solo in the last half hour; he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes from her. Though that wasn’t the original reason for not having her on stage for the entire performance. What Madara was really hoping to achieve with the late entrance of his principal cellist was to give her the grand introduction deserving of a musician of her calibre. After all, the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra was one of the most prestigious ensembles in the world of classical music, and Sakura Haruno wasn’t just anybody. And a good maestro knows to save the best for last.

Despite his mind being distracted with the image of her inviting lips only centimetres away from his own, Madara was still able to focus on the musicians in front of him as he led his orchestra through the concert’s programme. After they finished their second to last piece and when it was time for Sakura’s solo, he signalled his ensemble to quiet down, turned around on his podium to face the audience and grabbed a microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, as you may have heard the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra has signed on a new member. As of this April, our vacant spot of principal cellist was filled with an immensely talented young musician from Kyoto. Though she doesn’t need an introduction, she’s going to get one anyway. She is an award-winning cello prodigy who was the youngest ever recipient of the first Grand Prize at the Rostropovitch Cello Competition at the age of sixteen. She studied under Takanori Nakano, Stjepan Hauser, and Steven Isserlis, to mention but a few. After establishing herself as a world-renowned cellist in her previous orchestras, she will now join us for our tour as the newest and youngest member of my ensemble. Ladies and Gentlemen, you will now hear Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto number 1 in A minor with our new principal cellist Sakura Haruno as the soloist.”

Madara put down the microphone, stepped off his podium, and walked off the stage to where Sakura was waiting for him.

“Ready?” he asked with an encouraging smile.

She answered with a determined nod as her lips spread into an excited grin. “As I’ll ever be.”

The maestro signalled her to lead the way. As the cellist stepped onto the stage with her instrument in hand, the audience erupted into thunderous applause. Madara followed after her, clapping his hands like the rest of the guests and the musicians of his ensemble. He watched her bow deeply to the audience before turning to Kabuto and shaking his hand with a smug grin plastered on her face. She waited for Madara to step onto his podium before shaking his hand as well.

“Give ‘em hell, Ms Haruno.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another one of her blushes he liked so much taint her cheeks as she took a seat and readied herself with a subtle, sincere smile gracing her lips.

Madara raised his baton while Sakura steadied her bow above the strings of her cello. They shared one last look, the cellist looking up at her maestro for guidance and the maestro giving her a tiny smile of approval. He nodded to his entire ensemble.

As the music enveloped the large concert hall, Madara could see Sakura sway in her seat, eyes closed and completely surrendering herself to her instrument. He knew in that moment that she was gone now, transporting her mind into whatever utopia she conjured up whenever she let go and allowed her music to simply take her away.

As easy as it was for him to get and hold her attention, the maestro had to begrudgingly admit that music still seemed to be the only thing able to ensnare her in a way he could not. He was going to have to change that soon enough, he decided.

@madasakuweek and @beyondthemoor (in case the first tag didn't work)

Fanart, impiled MadaSaku

Prompt: Waiter

Disclaimer: This is not an analysis of how the fandom ships Madasaku. This isn’t pertinent to any other version other than my own that exists in my WOYY AU. This is not the result of fanon influence, nor should it be taken as such, because this is not a fanon analysis. If any other Madasaku fans want to know how your favorite authors/fanartists portray Madasaku, I highly recommend you ask them. They’ll probably love the interest. This is a subjective take and it shouldn’t be blown out of proportion as anything but.

So, with The Maiden wrapping up (it’s finished, I’m just staggering the posting rate) and The Mother (its sequel) coming very soon, I thought I’d round out the year with my thoughts on this ship as it exists in my series. It doesn’t need saying that Madasaku is a controversial ship at best, and has extreme potential for dark fic at worst. At its absolute best, time travel AU’s that occur before Madara snaps highlight what can be fantastic about this pairing as much as more villainous, post-canon takes can showcase how toxic it can become. 

(And for the record, people who utilize more toxic dynamics shouldn’t be shamed for it. The potential is there, easily. Madara after he left Konoha spirals into depravity despite his endgame being anything but (”a world of peace, of winners, of love” is basically the tagline for the Inifinite Tsukiyomi) and there’s a lot to address for the harm Madara does, of how inhumane and merciless he can be. The toxicity is already there post-canon if an author decides he lives, but it only takes certain nudges to make it glaringly apparent.)

Which I think is what makes Madasaku such a fascinating character study. As I’ve come to find, healthy fic of this ship post-canon are rare. Very rare. Have I read them? Not greatly. Do I know they exist sparingly compared to time travel AU’s and modern mafia AU’s that draw so many people in? Certainly? Now, on to the discourse!