Author's Notes: Done on a whim. There's just no way that the Uchiha family can be all friendly and perfect... so here. :D
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.
An Arrangement
Sakura remembers many things about the Uchiha family, none of them particularly pleasant.
But one memory, out of all of them, has most deeply engraved itself into her mind.
(She is thirteen years old, deeply besotted and deeply in love, hand in hand with the boy who just might be 'it'. They enter into the Uchiha's dining room, which is more lavish than anything else she has ever imagined. Wistfully, she imagines that she is the princess, and he, the prince.
Really, she feels as if she's in a fairytale, as if she's in a dream, as if—
"Try not to make a fool out of yourself."
She knows that Sasuke is probably just nervous, that he said it to warn her and not to insult her. But still, the words come out clipped and cold and hurtful and she cannot help but feel like she has just walked into a nightmare.)
She remembers sitting at their dinner table, feeling uneasy and out place.
(She is dressed in her best clothes; a soft green empire cut dress that falls a little below her knees and accentuates her eyes, her pink locks swept up into an elegant twist, with a few strands framing her face. She even applied some make up, dusting her cheeks with the faintest of pinks and dabbing her lips with glittery gloss.
Before she left home, she was actually worried that she might have gotten a bit carried away and that she might have overdressed. But now that she is here, she cannot help but notice how much better the texture of the table cloth is compared to her garb. Suddenly, inexplicably, she no longer feels pretty.
And Lady Mikoto sweeps in, impeccable in a long white gown, long black hair a curtain of silk.
Her gaze sweeps over Sakura, once, twice, before she looks away and pretends nothing happened.
Mikoto does not smile.
And Sakura feels as if she has already failed.)
She remembers feeling as if the differently sized utensils laid out in front of her were weapons meant to scare her away.
(Soup has just been served, and she feels like it is a pop quiz.
The Uchiha family seems to be waiting for her to begin, but she is hesitant and for the life of her, she cannot remember which spoon should be used for the soup and which should be used for dessert. Something tells her that the one on top is for dessert, but she could be wrong. She probably is wrong, she thinks, and she really wants nothing more than to run away. Still, she can feel their eyes on her, expectant and impatient, so she reaches out –
Sasuke lets out a little cough and reaches out to the spoon on his right and not the one at the top.
It is an admonishment, covert and subtle, but everybody in the table and Sakura has to fight off this urge to take the bread knife and stab herself with it.)
She remembers feeling more naked than the roasted pig they had for the main course.
(Fugaku asks a lot of questions – How are your grades? Straight A's sir; 'as it should be', his look says. What do your parents do? They're businessmen, sir; and she wonders if that is a condescending sneer she sees; Who is your role model? The Lady Tsunade Sir; That doctor woman?, he asks, and it sounds like an insult; What do you want to be when you grow up? I'm not sure yet sir; and this time, she's sure that it's a sneer – and she feels like she could, maybe, probably, if she was exposed long enough to his overbearing presence, hate him)
She remembers feeling as if she should run away and never return.
(The eldest, Itachi, looks pityingly at her, an apology apparent in his eyes – but really, he shouldn't pity her. On the contrary, it is she who truly pities him. He is stuck, she is not.
She is not an Uchiha – and for the life of her, she can't imagine why she ever wanted to be one in the first place – and she can still run away.)
But most of all, she remembers the feeling of falling out of love.
(Uchiha Sasuke sits there saying nothing and doing nothing, head bowed in apparent embarrassment.
The dinner was a disaster, and Sakura feels lower than dirt. The servant comes in, places a dish of Pear and Almond Tart in front of her, and she reaches out for the dessert fork – but then she sees them looking at her, Mikoto and Fugaku, and Sasuke, all expectant and judging and horrible, horrible, horrible – and stops.
She takes the salad fork instead.
And she smiles.
This – Uchiha Fugaku glaring, Uchiha Mikoto gaping, Uchiha Sasuke burying himself in his seat – is her rebellion.
'The tart is delicious', she says, her words muffled by the food in her mouth.
But she is lying.
To her, the tart tastes only like disillusionment; it tastes like her heart breaking.)
So really, what does her father expect?
That she would say 'yes' to Sasuke's (parent's) proposal?
She would be crazy to agree – and yet, it really isn't her choice.
He is from a family of impoverished aristocrats, with only their name to clutch onto.
She is from the nouveau riche, with no name to speak of.
It is a perfect arrangement, their parents think – a win, win situation.
She and Sasuke will be mere sacrifices –
and oh, weren't the two of you childhood sweethearts? It's so perfect that the two of you are getting married; 'Mikoto-san', Sakura wants to say to the hypocritical, disgusting woman, 'let's not pretend', but she is not brave enough and she does not want to ruin things for her father's campaign, so instead she nods mutely, smiles, and lies, 'Yes, yes, we were'
– and their relationship would be doomed from the start.
She certainly won't be happy.
But if there's one thing she knows about the Uchiha's, it's that they almost never are.
the|end