I am so, so sorry.

I am so sorry for being away for so long. I was able to leave my ex a few months ago, after years of trying, but my self-confidence in writing and everything else is pretty well shattered. I haven't given up and have still been trying to write this chapter. But I'm struggling.

I'm going to do something I haven't done since A WhiteWalled Christmas: I'm going to write a piecewise chapter, in hopes that it will help me get unstuck.

What does that mean? I'm going to post what I have of the next chapter, and then keep adding to it and updating it until it's done. I'm hopeful that it will get me to update faster, and finally finish the chapter. Hopefully, this will be the only chapter I have to do this for. But after so long away, after something like a two year wait (?!), you guys should never have had to wait for so long. I cannot express how sorry I am.

Here's hoping things get better now.

Onward...

~SectumSemprae

Mottled

-CHAPTER FIFTEEN- (piecewise - this denotation will disappear when the chapter is finished)

-/-

"Akasuna no Sasori, you say?" Madara murmured. Well that would explain the tail...

"Why, have you heard of him?" Inner Sakura turned her head momentarily away from the battle at hand. Now she fixed Madara with a curious stare.

"...No. A name like that one, I would remember."

Not just the name. The appearance alone was striking. Hair raked forward so that it stood up in stiff black spikes. A torn black cloth covering his mouth. Bloodshot eyes.

The shinobi was crouched down on all fours; Madara could see that one of his arms was different. It looked more like a cannon than an arm. Surely for hidden weaponry, he quickly deduced.

And then of course there was that long bone tail, so long that it came all the way over this Sasori's shoulder. The tail continuously twitched, restless, making the bones gleam in the dim light of the cave. Sharp... but does he intend to slash through opponents that way? Seems inefficient when he could use a sword... No, his intuition told him, his tail works in a different way. Hmm... He pictured the creature the shinobi was named for. A quick stab, a deep wound, or even a smaller puncture wound if his opponent manages to pull back... Poison? He almost smiled. It would be fitting, after all.

The chakra flow through Sasori's body was different. Chakra still flowed, of course, but it seemed off. Sluggish. It reminded him of how his chakra had felt when Kabuto controlled him during the Edo Tensei, when his own body was a mere corpse... Madara's eyes narrowed. Could it be?

But more noticeable than the shinobi's appearance was his murderous aura. If Madara had to describe it, he would say that it was drenched in blood. Not as intense as his own, but with definite potency. Madara could practically feel all the lives this man had taken.

Akasuna no Sasori, huh?

He could understand why the younger memory of Sakura was trembling.

"Sakura, do not be afraid. I am here with you!" The old woman had moved in front of the younger Sakura. "You just stay back, dear." She looked small, even smaller than Sakura - but she carried herself without fear. It would be foolish to underestimate her. Madara caught a glimpse of something shining between her fingers - right before the old woman pulled out a string of knives.

"Assault Blade!" With a movement, the kunai burst forth at the bizarre shinobi - this Sasori. The cold eyes narrowed, and the bone tail moved to block-

A little thread of blue chakra jumped from one of the knives, over to one of the vertebrae on the tail, even as Sasori sent the knives back with a well-aimed parry. Madara followed the shining line back to one of the old woman's fingers.

"I see." He leaned forward, an eager gleam in his eyes. "Interesting."

"What?"

Sasori was shaking the bone tail at the two women now, unknowing of the chakra thread now attached. "How would you and that brat there like to join my collection, Granny Chiyo?"

"That old woman affixes chakra threads to her fingers. Much like that trick your Outer self played on me." Madara turned to smile at Inner, his eyes crinkling in sinister amusement.

Inner glared at him. "That 'old woman' is Lady Chiyo of the Sand Village!" she practically growled. "Speak her name with respect."

"It seems I've touched a nerve." He continued to grin. So Imaginary Sakura doesn't like that I can decipher her moves so well. "She was your mentor, then?"

"Only for a moment." Inner turned away. Her short hair shielded her face, hiding her expression from him. When she spoke, melancholy filled her voice, "This was her final battle."

Madara perked up.

The old woman was now explaining Sasori's "human puppet" body to Sakura. So that's why he reminded me of an Edo Tensei, he mused. His lip curled in disgust as he overheard Chiyo say that Sasori's puppet body - "Hiruko" - had once been a shinobi from a nearby village. He muddles with corpses. Desecrates the bodies of deceased warriors for his own sick purposes. Coward. He sensed the old woman had the same sentiment if the way she spoke to the corpse-armored missing-nin was any indication.

A shudder seemed to go through the inner demoness. But instead of putting her arms around herself - which he could see Outer Sakura doing - Inner merely clenched her fists. "We should respect her by watching it."

"...You said her name was Chiyo?" Madara said suddenly.

"Yes."

Madara looked more closely at the Sand woman. "I remember. Now her I have heard of."

"Really?" Inner's head twitched, as if she wanted to look away from the battle at hand and over at him. But she didn't. "How?"

"I lived through the Second War and died during the Third War. Though I was never a part of either, I heard and saw enough, when I would venture out to spy for myself, and later through White Zetsu..."

Inner was avidly watching her younger self and Chiyo as they discussed Sasori's weaponry in low tones, preparing for the fight ahead. Still, she tilted her head towards him. Impatience seeped into her tone. "Well?"

"She was a medic and poisons expert from the Hidden Sand, wasn't she? I heard her name mentioned several times, but I am afraid I didn't take her seriously. Especially since..."

"What?"

Madara watched the little old Sand woman as she leaned close to the younger Sakura to whisper in her ear. Their mouths were hidden by Chiyo's robed arm; Madara was sure the missing nin missed the slightest flash of blue chakra that extended from Chiyo's fingertips to the younger woman, before winking out almost entirely. "Well, she may be a great healer, but I am certain she is no Hashirama."

Inner scoffed.

"I had always believed puppets made good theater. I admit I hadn't seen the practicalities of them on the battlefield. I might have overlooked them as pretend shinobi playing with their dolls."

"But you still remembered Chiyo's name."

Madara smiled. "She is a genius puppeteer, isn't she?"

"Obviously."

Madara shook his head, not bothering to comment. He looked up at Inner, and he noticed something peculiar.

Inner was fighting back tears.

It caught him by surprise. Why would Inner, the more violent and tougher version of the Sakura he knew so well, be prone to such weakness?

The demoness's eyes hadn't left Chiyo even once during their conversation.

Madara relaxed. A knowing took hold over him. She was watching Chiyo with a familiar emotion - an emotion not unlike the one he felt when he relived Izuna's fatal battle with Tobirama. Sorrow, choking grief, bitterness, pride, anger, subtle horror. Determination not to look away.

Shinobi died all the time on the battlefield, as well as on the medic's table. Somehow he didn't imagine Inner shedding tears over each of them, though Outer might. This one is special to her.

"So this is Chiyo's final dance," he said more softly, acknowledging her words from earlier.

"Yes." Her response was terse.

He nodded, though she didn't see it - younger Sakura had just darted forward, towards Sasori. "I am sure it will be worth it."

Sasori - or rather Sasori's puppet Hiruko - pulled back the cloth covering its mouth, and now Madara could see the segmented jaw in all its macabre utility. His own lip curled in disgust.

Sakura and Chiyo didn't hesitate.

The puppet mouth opened, and out flew a barrage of needles, straight for the two women. Any shinobi of lesser prowess would have been impaled, but-

But Sakura and Chiyo didn't take even a scratch.

Chiyo controlled the girl expertly, and Sakura even sent a few needles hurtling back with her kunai. He could see her natural athleticism peeking through even then, body weaving through the air as Chiyo fine-tuned her reactions.

Madara narrowed his eyes suddenly at the Sand woman. She was deflecting needles too - he could hear the clang of the deflections - but unless she was moving too quickly for him to see (Unlikely! he scoffed), she did not appear to have a kunai up her sleeve. So how was she deflecting them, seemingly with nothing but her arm?

The puppet's mouth was empty now, agape, obscene. Sakura and Chiyo paused, awaiting Sasori's next move. They had traversed half the battlefield; still not within striking distance of their target, but closer.

POW! The arm cannon came next, discharged like a bomb, more needles spewing in all directions. Madara could see the naked joint left behind.

"DIE!"

But again, Sakura and Chiyo prevailed. Like leaves dancing in the face of a hurricane, they dodged lightly, avoiding the deadly projectiles.

The rain of needles seemed endless. He could practically feel Sasori's mounting fury.

Finally the barrage ended, and it was then the younger, more impulsive memory of Sakura saw her chance, sprinting alone across the battlefield to the missing nin. Madara halfway lowered his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. Wouldn't this generation ever learn to not charge the enemy head-on from halfway across the battlefield without at least a cover attack or a smokescreen? It was honestly amazing they had survived this long. Sakura surged forward, hurling a kunai - which the puppet deflected with its bone tail. The tail changed directions and came swooping back through the air-

Only to stop a bare half-inch from Sakura's face.

Madara smiled briefly. Looks like Chiyo's gamble paid off.

Sasori's confusion and rage were palpable for a split-second, mirrored through his puppet.

"Now, Sakura! Now - strike it down!"

"RIGHT!"

Sakura's black gloved fist came down. Madara admitted grudgingly to himself that she wasn't copying him after all with her handwear.

SMASSSHHHH!

The puppet shattered as easily as porcelain under her fist. Hiruko's head rolled away and stopped, now hollow and lifeless. And a shadow leaped from the puppet's shattered husk, landing safely away.

Inner clenched her fists. Madara took careful note of her reaction and sat up straighter: now the real fighting would begin. He smiled, while the demoness glowered at the shadow on the battlefield.

"Perhaps this will be entertaining after all..."

"I've waited twenty years... I want to see my grandson's face!"

Inner could remember every part of what came next. After reliving this fight many times over, she knew each moment of the script by heart.

Vaguely she heard Madara mumble something about expecting Sasori to be taller.

The Akatsuki's fingers, the only part of him they could yet see, twitched.

Hiruko's head launched into the air, teeth creepily chattering, then spinning and presenting its base outward. A new shower of poisoned needles, and Chiyo's frantic reaction as she swiped a hand and younger Sakura was yanked backward, revealing their slight of hand.

The puppet's head hit the ground, cracking into halves, and Sasori spoke.

The voice still sent shivers through Inner, not that she would ever reveal that. That soft, slow, utterly malicious drawl, as Sasori pieced together their strategy. But unlike her younger self who trembled before the puppet master, Inner's shivers weren't from fear. They were from rage.

Just one more time, I wish I could break him.

"Unfortunately, playtime is over!"

"You don't know how right you are..." The cloth slowly slid from his head, revealing his shock of red hair and young, unchanging face.

She heard Chiyo's shocked gasp. But Madara had a different reaction. Inner watched from the corner of her eyes as Madara leaned forward, his lips twitching.

"Interesting..."

What did he find so interesting? Was he already piecing together Sasori's secret? Surely he must have ideas at least.

She had almost hesitated to show Madara this memory, even though it was one of her proudest. To have him mock this memory... Well, fortunately he hadn't yet, though he had been disrespectful to Chiyo. Ultimately what had decided her wasn't his potential reaction to her Outer self's prowess, or not; she wanted to send him a message. Sasori's fight with them was about more than winning; it was about deception. Each side had secrets, revealed one by one. She wondered if Madara would relate more to Sasori, what with them both being evil and all, and if he would be able to recognize himself in the puppet master's own cockiness.

In the end, the secrets she and Chiyo kept had given them enough of an edge to defeat Sasori. Even if Chiyo believed Sasori allowed himself to be killed in the end, Sakura didn't. He couldn't master his emotions, after all, a tool Chiyo used against him when she summoned the Mother and Father puppets in their battle.

Madara believed himself to be in control right now, inside her and Outer's head, as it were. He believed himself to be invincible.

It would never occur to him that they could have kept any secrets from him.

She didn't know what would happen when he finally left Inner's hammerspace. Hopefully, Outer would have regained consciousness by then, enough to keep her wits about her. She needed to delay him until then. And she needed to protect their secrets.

But just maybe, through witnessing this fight once more, Inner could send Madara a message:

Do not underestimate Haruno Sakura.

more soon