Author's Note: Well, this story has been brewing in my mind for over a year now and I finally decided to write it after much prodding.
Just a few things to mention; I'm trying to stay as faithful as I can to the time period but, obviously in certain places I have made small allowances for the sake of the story. One of those things being the hairstyles. I'm sure everyone is familiar with samurai hairstyles, but I have chosen (with obvious reason) to not adopt that hairstyle for the characters.
Also, I'd like to thank my sister for writing parts of the first chapter. Its been very helpful.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, I pwn him. XP
Chapter One
"Zutydorp…zutydorp…" he repeated to himself as though it would somehow help him locate the ship faster. Around him, he could hear Dutch sailors speaking in their native language as they unloaded cargo, the halting voices of merchants as they attempted to communicate with the dock officials who were waving papers in their faces, the tired groans of ship masts as they rocked in the wind and the hungry cries of the many seagulls wheeling in the air, their own wings miniature models of ship sails. But the noise of the seaport was a distant buzz to Uzumaki Naruto's ears as he finally found the Zutydorp nestled between two other merchant ships, its name half-obscured by some spare rigging. He ran quickly towards it, his geta skittering over the dirty stone steps, his long strides making the only presentable kimono he owned ride up to expose his bare ankles.
"Excuse me," he said in slightly accented Dutch, tapping the shoulder of a sailor bent over a wooden crate.
The sailor turned to look up at Naruto over his shoulder, squinting against the sunlight as he took in the appearance of the young man in front of him.
"Aye?" he said, looking at Naruto as though he didn't know what to make of him.
"Is that Mr. Isaac de Capelle?" Naruto asked, pointing to a tall, fair-haired man in his mid-forties who was engaged in a heated argument with one of the dock officials.
"Aye, it is." The sailor seemed to have come to the decision that the blond youth in front of him had gone 'native'. As he shook his head and tutted to himself, he missed hearing Naruto's hurried thanks as he sped towards Isaac de Capelle.
Just before approaching the arguing pair, Naruto straightened his kimono and attempted to smooth out any wrinkles.
"Excuse me," he said again as he drew near, but this time in flawless Japanese. Both men looked at the young man who had interrupted them.
"I'm sorry," he said politely, bowing his head before he addressed the dock official, "I'm the translator for the Zutydorp."
The dock official's surprise was evident as he was unable to reconcile Naruto's physical appearance with his fluency in Japanese while the captain puffed up in righteous anger.
"Hang on a moment," he said, his moustache quivering with anger as he reverted to his mother tongue. "Just because this chap can speak your bloomin' language, doesn't give him the right to cut in front of me! We are in the middle of negotiations, sir!"
"Sorry, Mr. de Capelle," Naruto said apologetically switching back to Dutch, turning to the angry man. "I am the translator you requested."
He performed the obligatory bow to his employer.
"You?" Isaac de Capelle said, taken aback at the sudden turn of events. He recovered quickly, "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, boy! I knew I shouldn't have trusted that old coot!"
Naruto gave a half-apologetic grin and sheepishly scratched the back of his head. When his employer began to bristle at his lack of repentance, Naruto made placating gestures with his hand as he said hurriedly,
"Sorry, sorry, Mr. de Capelle. But you can trust me to do a good job, I promise!"
Despite Isaac de Capelle's unconvinced expression, he turned to the dock official to begin the formal proceedings. Although, in its narrowest definition, the translator's job was simply to translate what both parties were conveying, most translators were fairly knowledgeable in the negotiation of docking duration and fees, which ship identification papers needed to be shown when and the other seemingly endless niceties imposed by the shogun that needed to be cleared. As a result, the translators usually ended up not only collaborating with the dock officials on behalf of their foreign employers, but playing the part of unofficial guide. In this aspect, Naruto's job was no different from any other translator, but he had a trump card few others possessed: his mastery of Dutch. As such, he could prove to be a valuable asset to any trading merchant company if he could pass this first test.
Ten minutes later, when all the necessary document exchanging and interpreting had been done and the dock official had waved them away, Naruto turned expectantly to Isaac de Capelle.
"Not bad," he admitted. "But the tardiness needs to be addressed. In my line of business, it's something we can't afford. Nevertheless, I like you, boy. How about you tell me a good place to eat and I treat you to lunch? In exchange, I get an informal interview of sorts with you; if you're fit for the job, you're hired for the next three months."
Naruto gave a wide grin that Isaac de Capelle would learn was his trademark before leading the way out of the dock.
The first of the Autumn rain fell in Kaga, blanketing it in a light mist. The soft pitter patter of rain sounded on the ceramic roofing tiles of houses. Uchiha Sasuke sat in his room, his shoji drawn open, looking out into the garden. The sharp sound of the sōzu resounded rhythmically in the air. He sipped his Gyokuro, lost in thought.
Last night, his father had confirmed that his engagement to Haruno-san's daughter was impending. He knew very little of the girl, aside from the talk of her appearance. He had seen her in his childhood and her appearance had left an impression on him, as it had on most people no doubt. Her hair was the colour of sakura in full bloom and her eyes the shade of jade. But, that was all that he could recall of the young daughter of the Haruno clan.
He had no desire to wed her, but his duty to his clan demanded that he do so. He was still young and felt that a wife would tie him down and limit his movements. He had wanted to express this to his father, but had thought better of it. In his father's eyes, if he refused to take Haruno Sakura as his bride, he was placing himself before the interests of the clan. And the clan came before all else, except the Shogun.
Sasuke became alert to the soft pad of footsteps on the engawa. A moment later, his view of the garden was obscured by his brother's lithe frame. Sasuke looked up at his brother. It seemed that he had just returned from Edo, on a visit to the Shogunwith the daimyo, Maeda Shigemichi.
'Niisan.'
'Sasuke,' replied Itachi to Sasuke's greeting, a weary expression on his face. 'Haruno-san and his family are due to arrive soon, are they not?'
'Hai. Will you be attending the dinner or has Otousan excused you?'
'I will be attending. Chichue expressed this desire before I left for Edo. I must go to greet him and Hahaue. I will see you at dinner.'
Itachi turned and took his leave of Sasuke. The sound of his footsteps becoming a distant sound. Sasuke stepped out onto the engawa, watching his brother's retreating back. His eyes still locked on the spot where Itachi stood only a moment ago, before turning around the corner, lost in his memories. The sudden clack of the sōzu drew him back, sharply, to the present. Sasuke sighed and stepped back into his room to prepare himself for dinner.
Tenten sat by the river's edge, a paint brush held between her teeth as she observed the ink painting on the white scroll. She placed the brush on the surface and with a few swift strokes, completed the image of the Barn Swallow perched on a branch, spreading its wings. She leaned back, carefully placing the scroll on the grass. She rose from her perch on the large, smooth rock and proceeded towards the river. She scooped up some water in a small pail and went about cleaning her brushes. The black ink swirled in the clear, cool water.
The soft rumble of thunder had Tenten jerking out of her crouched position and looking up at the sky. Black clouds were racing across the sky. Soon there would be rain. Her painting…..Tenten quickly gathered her belongings and tossed them into a bag. She could not roll up the scroll as that would smudge the ink. The first drop of rain fell. Tenten wrinkled her nose and looked up accusingly at the sky, as if to reprimand it for raining at that moment. She slung her bag across her shoulder and began to run back towards the town to find shelter and save her painting from the rain.
As she approached the town, it was raining even harder. Everyone had taken shelter from the rain, except her and a few others caught unawares. She clutched the painting closer to her and continued to run blindly towards the direction of her home.
'Oof!' Tenten collided into a solid form.
She stumbled backwards and regained her footing. She was completely soaked through and her bangs clung damply to her forehead. She looked up to see who she had crashed into and when her eyes met the stranger's, she immediately dropped her head, eyes wide.
'Gomen! Gomen nasai!'
After her hurried apology, Tenten took off down the street. As she ran, her painting fluttered in her hand. The ink from it, running in rivulets down the scroll, giving the bird the illusion of movement.
The young man's eyes followed the running form of the bun-haired girl. His gaze, then, shifted to his hand, where black ink had stained the palm of his hand. His forehead creased into a frown. He watched the rising mist envelope the figure of the girl. He turned on his heel and continued down the path, back towards the Hyuuga household. The rain drops failing to remove the staining from his palm.
Sakura pulled the thread tight, finishing the final stitch of a blossom petal. She bent her head over the half-embroidered obi, pulling it close to her face to scrutinise her handiwork and tugging the cloth in an attempt to smooth out the stitches. At the sound of the shouji sliding open, she raised her head to see her father's tall form in the doorway, arms folded into the sleeves of his kimono. She sat up a little straighter.
"Continue," he said after observing her for a moment. Sakura frowned in puzzlement.
"Otousan?" she said, her tone questioning.
"Remember to always conduct yourself with the dignity befitting a daughter of a samurai clan, Sakura," he answered without explanation.
"Yes, Otousan," she said obediently, inclining her head to hide her deepening frown.
When she heard the shouji slide shut, she raised her head to stare at the spot her father had stood a moment earlier. An uneasy feeling settled over her as she replayed her father's words in her mind. What on earth had he meant by that obscure statement?
After an hour of attempting to continue embroidering, her drifting thoughts distracted her successfully and she abandoned the obi on the chabudaias she went in search of her mother. Unable to find her after searching the gardens and rooms she usually frequented, she headed to the kitchen in the vain hope of finding her there and the prospect of wheedling the cook for some wagashi.
"Hanako," she sang, traipsing into a small room, leading off from the main kitchen.
"Ojousan, you know Haruno-dono disapproves of you coming in here."
"Maa maa," Sakura waved her hand dismissively.
"What are you making?" she asked instead, inhaling the distinctly sweet aroma of melting sugar.
"Amanatto," Hanako said, stirring the sugar with a ladle as she dropped in the azuki beans clutched in her other hand.
She continued stirring in slow elliptical sweeps as Sakura watched the sugar begin to caramelise. Sakura was content to watch the bubbling golden sugar and the dark spheres that were the beans as she leaned against the flour-covered kitchen-top. When the sugar had thickened to the consistency of honey, Hanako pulled a rectangular tray close to the pot and ladled the syrup onto the tray spreading it out with a long flat, wooden utensil Sakura hadn't seen before. Once she had finished, she carried the pot and the other sugar-coated items towards the washing area while Sakura looked longingly at the cooling amanatto. It would be a while before she could have any. She knew that from experience, having dipped her finger into the hot sugar as a child. She had then promptly shoved her burned finger into her mouth, burning her tongue as well. She was about to remind Hanako of the incident when a servant came running into the kitchen.
"Ojousan!" she gasped, out of breath, "Your mother is back from her shrine visit. She requests your presence in her rooms."
"What is it?" Sakura asked, concerned by the look of urgency on the maidservant's face.
"You must come quickly," she pleaded.
"O-of course," Sakura said uncertainly, moving to follow her whilst shooting a worried look at Hanako over her shoulder. But Hanako was already bent over her confections.
Sakura arrived outside her mother's dressing room in a matter of minutes, slightly out of breath with the maidservant wringing her hands behind her.
"What's the matter, Okaasan?" Sakura asked as she slid open the shouji.
Her mother who was seated in the middle of the room in front of her dressing table turned to regard Sakura and the trembling girl behind her. Her hair was in the process of being coiffed by Midori kneeling behind her, running a comb through lustrous black hair. Sakura saw another woman in her peripheral vision, rummaging through the cupboard.
Her mother's eyebrows drew together elegantly as she said warningly, "Sakura, I hope you weren't in the kitchens."
Sakura looked back guiltily, but didn't say anything.
"Calm yourself, Yuki," she said addressing the nervous maidservant. "It is Sakura who was where she wasn't supposed to be."
Sakura heard Yuki bow behind her and excuse herself.
"What is going on?" Sakura moaned, collapsing dramatically on the floor in front of her mother. She grudgingly pulled herself into the proper sitting position after her mother shot her a reprimanding look.
"Yuki was sent to fetch you fifteen minutes ago," her mother said, as the woman who had been rummaging in the cupboard brought out a cloth-wrapped object and placed it on the dressing table.
"Oh," Sakura said. "But why was she in such a panic?"
"We have a dinner to attend in half an hour," her mother answered. Taking in her flour-smudged clothes and messy hair, she said, "You should get ready quickly."
"What?" Sakura almost yelped. "There's not enough time. Emiko takes ages to help me get dressed. When was this suddenly decided?"
"I don't know, dear," her mother said patiently, choosing to ignore her unladylike behaviour. "Your father only told me once I returned from the shrine. Midori is nearly finished with my hair. She will help you get dressed."
Sakura was a little surprised because Midori was her mother's personal handmaid. Her mother then proceeded to tell the other woman to fetch a kimono from the storage room while Sakura sat besides the dressing table waiting. A few minutes later her mother was ready; her hair was combed into an elaborate hairstyle held in place by a simple hanagushi made of lacquered wood inlaid with seasonal kikyo. As she motioned for Sakura to take her place in front of the dressing table, the maidservant returned with the kimono her mother had requested. She then began to assist Sakura's mother with a kimono already laid out as Midori loosened Sakura's hair from the bun it had been secured in.
Sakura was panicking as Midori pulled and tugged at her hair with a comb; she didn't think she'd be able to get ready in time. A quick glance in the mirror revealed her composed mother adjusting her obi. Her mother caught her eye and walked towards her, reaching for the cloth that the maidservant had laid on the table earlier. She un-wrapped it carefully to reveal a fan-shaped kanzashi with two hairpin prongs made of ivory. Its etched surface, partially painted with gold maki-e leaves, depicted a mother-of-pearl bird and was inlaid with minute jade and coral blossoms. It was breathtakingly beautiful, Sakura thought. She had never seen anything like it before.
"Your hair will complement it like no one else's can," her mother said, smiling kindly.
She passed it to Midori who inserted it into her hair to accompany a matching pair of mother-of-pearl kanoko dome fashioned into fan-shaped leaves, their edges enamelled with forest green jade. As Midori reached for a bira bira, Sakura's mother stopped her.
"It will be too much," she said.
Sakura stared at her reflection for a moment, trying to get a look at the hair ornaments at the back of her head before Midori grabbed her face and began applying makeup. Once that was complete, her mother and Midori helped her into a tea rose-coloured kimono with swirling dusky pink petals, its hems were a shade closer to lilac embroidered with grey water birds and pale pebbles. Before Sakura had the chance to admire her transformation, white tabi were being slipped onto her feet, her mother was tucking a small bag into the pocket sewn on the inside of her obi and pulling her towards the shouji, which seemed to be sliding open of its own accord to reveal her father dressed in formal attire. Sakura saw him look at her mother, pride evident in his eyes before he turned to scrutinise her. She self-consciously reached a hand up to pat her hair, but her mother caught it. Her father nodded his approval and started making his way towards the entrance of the house. Sakura and her mother followed; their steps smaller, but quicker.
Sakura's mind was too caught up wondering about the particular attention that had been paid to her to think about where they were going. It was only as they approached their destination that she noticed the red and white fan that was the kamon of the Uchiha clan painted on the compound walls at regular intervals.
Sasuke sat at the chabudai, his eyes trained on the screen opposite him, which depicted Mt. Fuji in autumn. Across him sat his mother, who was talking quite vivaciously to his future bride and her mother. Haruno-san, as the honoured guest, sat in the kamiza, the seat located furthest from the entrance. His father, as the host, sat at the other end of the chabudai, nearest the entrance.
Sasuke discreetly observed Haruno Sakura from beneath his bangs. She seemed quite happy, smiling brightly. Laughing softly into her sleeve as his mother said something. She did not at all seem the part of a shy bride coming to see her betrothed. She had greeted him with a small smile, and nothing more. No indication of what she thought of this arrangement.
Sasuke raised his gaze as Haruno-san cleared his throat. Everyone placed their chopsticks down neatly, and turned their attention towards him.
'Fugaku-san, it is a great honour to have our clan joined with yours. I could not have asked for a better match for my daughter. Sasuke-kun is highly spoken off amongst the samurai. I could not be any prouder, if he were my own son. I am sure he will be a good husband to Sakura, and I hope that she will be a good wife and daughter to Sasuke-kun and you.'
'……….match for my daughter…..husband to Sakura….good wife…..'
Sakura, who at that moment had been sipping her sake, choked slightly. Her eyes widened. She placed her sleeve against her lips and tried to cough softly. She hadn't realised the purpose of this visit was an informal engagement of sorts. Was she the only one who didn't know? Her eyes darted to the young man opposite her. His face was trained into a blank and calm expression. He seemed unaffected by the news.
Her eyes flitted to her mother, who had a small smile turning up the corners of her lips, and finally her father who was gazing at her with a proud expression. She looked back at him, trying to convey through her eyes how betrayed she felt. She realised her father had stopped speaking and what he said before they had set off for the Uchiha house came back to her sharply.
"Remember to always conduct yourself with the dignity befitting a daughter of a samurai clan, Sakura."
Sakura shifted so she was facing Uchiha-san and his wife, and smiled.
'It is a great honour to be chosen as your daughter. Please take care of me.'
Sasuke's eyes darted sharply to his right as he heard a soft cough. Haruno Sakura looked panicked. He looked away swiftly as her eyes became focused on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Itachi's eye and his quirked eyebrow. He had noticed her reaction as well. But Haruno Sakura was quick to recover, it seemed. She was already facing his parents and thanking them for letting her be their future daughter-in-law. Sasuke noticed the smirk twitching the corner of Itachi's mouth as he looked at Haruno Sakura with amused eyes.
Sasuke turned to face Haruno-san and regurgitated words fed to him by his father of how great an honour it would be to marry Haruno-san's daughter and other such formalities as was expected. After the announcement of the engagement, their parents seemed to think it was the perfect time to decide when the official engagement before the rest of the two clans should take place.
His father and mother appeared to be pleased with her. His mother was holding her hand and saying how much she looked forward to having her with them and how she had desired a daughter and now she was to have one. Both their mothers looked very animated, as did Haruno-san. His father, though, as usual had a rather steely expression.
By the end of dinner, they had come to the conclusion that the engagement would be held sometime next month. Sasuke was not too pleased by the imminence of it, and from the looks of it neither was his bride-to-be.
Sakura spent the whole journey back home in the palanquin fuming. As soon as the palanquin was set down, she climbed out slipping into the geta a servant placed before her and hurried towards the house after her parents whose palanquins were already gone. Crossing the short distance from the grounds to the entrance as the slate-tiled roof slowly dripped rainwater overhead, she entered the genkan and carelessly kicked off her sandals before striding determinedly towards her parents' location, the kimono restricting her movements. She opened the shouji with more force than necessary, pushing her hair back from her face as she began angrily, "How could—!"
She was interrupted by her mother's displeased cry.
"Sakura! The kimono!" she exclaimed.
Sakura followed her mother's line of sight to the kimono's hem which was distinctly damp and dirty from its misadventure through the wet grass. She only felt a twinge of guilt. Even as she prepared to resume her tirade, her mother was hurrying towards her and assisted by one of the maids quickly removed the kimono, which was taken away presumably to be immediately washed.
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