Five years after the Uchiha's coup, days of orange skies and ash-filled air, no Uchiha are allowed to become shinobi. Devastated and distraught, Sasuke seeks comfort in an old teashop. In a world where all hate his name as much as they hates his blood, Sasuke dives deeper into what started out only as a hobby but may now hold a bright yet fragile path of restoring his clan's honor.
"Jī-san!"
Two boys always used to always rush into his teashop on weekends. Following would usually be an adult: a young and strong man with dashing looks that would turn the heads of young ladies. The old man would always laugh to himself when the ladies paled upon seeing his hand, displaying a gold band. The ladies would then focus on the two boys intently, as if trying to discern the identity of the woman who had stolen such a fine man.
Though, on days like this, rarely does even one boy come.
"Hello, Jī-san," comes a hollow voice with sunken eyes and a thin frame. He steps in with the dull tinkling of the bell hanging on the handle and closes the entrance behind him quietly.
"Sasuke-kun!" he replies heartily, trying to raise his spirits. The boy doesn't look any more cheerful. Sasuke realizes the old man is trying to cheer him up, but there is no way he can be happy.
I studied harder than anyone else…I trained harder than anyone else…I…
Yet, why can't he feel the cold metal of a deserved hitai-ate on his forehead?
Rage and frustration and sorrow swirl in him as he stands in the entrance a few minutes before opening time. I shouldn't have come here…He keeps his face as calm as he can, but the old man sees through him. He probably hates me too. It's no surprise; I shouldn't even have been allowed to take that Academy Exit Exam. The old man strokes his beard, thinking. Then he steps out from behind the counter and strides towards Sasuke. Sasuke looks at him seriously and contemplates taking a step back and just running out and accepting his fate but…
The man turns over his open sign to read closed to the customers. He pulls down the blinds to the glass-paneled shop and gestures for Sasuke to follow him. Cautious and distrusting yet too emotionally battered to bring himself to refuse, Sasuke follows.
The man leads him into the back of the store where a traditional tatami mat-lined room opens up before him.
"Sit," he says. Sasuke complies wordlessly. But…this place has always been so peaceful.
Sasuke looks around at the walls, a pale green, and at an alcove to his right with a hanging scroll and carefully arranged flowers in a ceramic vase. Right before him is a hearth where water quietly boils in a metal kettle.
The man leaves the room for a while before coming back with a small wooden box. He sets it down before looking at Sasuke. Sasuke looks at the tatami mats, ready to hear a familiar string of words: Get out. Which is usually followed by: Traitor. Or: Filthy Uchiha. Or a variant of the two. Sasuke has gotten used to the words falling upon his ears, but not the hate that it stings with.
Please…Jīsan, it would be so much better if you just threw me out. Throw something at me like a teacup or a glass or something…a scratch on my skin might drown out the pain. Don't you know that letting me get closer to you will—
"Sit properly," the man says. Sasuke looks up in shock, and is met by stern, yet kind, brown eyes. The more Sasuke looks for hatred in the man's eyes, the less it seems to exist. The man sits down on a tatami mat across the hearth from Sasuke.
"Calm down, Sasuke-kun," the man mildly admonishes him, "I'm too old to hate. And I've known you since you were very small; I know you're a good child. Now, sit properly. You have to sit properly."
Sasuke furrows his brows, "Why?"
"You'll see," the man's eyes crinkle up in a smile, "Sit like me."
The man sits with his legs folded neatly underneath him with his back straight. He waits to open the box beside him until Sasuke follows suit. He opens and reaches into the box and with two hands carefully takes out a bowl, a bamboo whisk, a bamboo scoop, a red square cloth, a small black lacquered container, and a bamboo ladle.
Sasuke stares in shock as the man moves gracefully and deliberately before him. No movement is wasted. Sasuke had always viewed the man as too old to move comfortably. He'd thought the man was like Kagami-jīsan had grumbled about arthritis and pain and aches. He'd thought the man was too old to look as timeless as the art before him. He'd thought the man was…just some old kind man who just worked behind the counter.
'Just this cup, sir? Is that all you'll be buying today?'
The young man nodded.
The old man shook his head, still carrying a placid expression. Sasuke turned to his friend, 'What a weird old man. Doesn't he know your Tou-san already decided on what he wants to buy? Kind of pushy if you ask me.'
His friend didn't nod. He looked at his father the moment he heard the words leave the old man's lips, 'Today is a special day for your family. This tea,' he put forth an extra lacquered container with a strange inscription on it, 'Is special. Please, take it. It's free.'
The art of making tea blurs by him.
Sasuke stares at his hands on his knees. What was that? Why am I remembering that now?
He looks up at the man, who offers him a bowl with green tea in it, "Here. First, rotate the bowl clockwise slightly so the cup's front isn't facing you. Then take three sips. Then, turn it counterclockwise so the front of the cup is facing you, and then if there's another guest to be served tea, hand it to them after wiping the surface your lips touched. Then bow to the host and sit patiently with good posture until the other guests are done. Well, being that there are no other guests, the last parts don't really apply. But try it."
Isn't he just a kind old man who works behind the counter? Just…selling tea and cups and teapots?
There's something in the man's eyes.
"Sasuke-kun?"
Truly…there is no hate in the man's eyes. The man defies logic. He defies logic! Why doesn't he hate him? He's the same as the killers in his clan! They have the same name, eyes, hair, blood, kekkei genkai…! Especially the ones still alive, who shouldn't be! They killed innocent citizens while Uchiha who tried to go against the current of hatred five years were killed by angry Konoha shinobi. They were thrown into pits of fire, electrocuted, drowned, and forced to endure the greatest physical and mental pain. The old man surely has lost family and friends to his clan's hate! There isn't anyone alive or dead without that pain!
I don't deserve this!
"Sasuke-kun."
Sasuke pales as his heart races in his chest with fear, "W-wha…"
"The tea ceremony is a formal occasion that shows a host's deep consideration for his guests. Being given such a carefully made bowl of tea, an art of in it of itself, requires the guest to also show appreciation and consideration. What kind of guest doesn't take the tea and simply ignores his host? I'm not sure what's clouding your mind, Sasuke-kun, but I don't think it's important enough to not have the time to take and appreciate tea. Tea calms the soul. Drink, Sasuke-kun."
Sasuke takes the bowl. He turns it, brings it to his lips, and drinks. The thick tea runs over his tongue and sticks to his tongue and teeth. Its flavor is rich and deep yet bitter. He drinks it in one large gulp.
It's delicious.
The bowl falls from Sasuke's hands.
His vision gets blurry and his chest aches. His body quivers. He slams his hands over his face and curls forward, trying to keep his sobs inside.
"J-jī-san…" Sasuke's voice cracks.
The man waits patiently.
"It's…delicious…It's delicious!" Sasuke sobs. He raises his head. Watery and glistening black eyes meet elderly brown ones. The man bows and Sasuke bows, "P-please…teach me how to serve tea. Teach me the art of making tea! Teach me sado!"
"As you wish, Sasuke-kun," the man says.
A tiny flicker. A tiny flicker of hope. It burns faintly, but it's there. Sasuke can feel it. Sasuke can see it. It burns so much more brightly than the depression and hopelessness and guilt in his heart. It's the first time he's felt it since so long ago. Sasuke beams as tears of joy still stream down his cheeks and cut through the grime of sadness. He tries to wipe them away, but his joy won't stop.
"Thank you…thank you…" Sasuke says, holding his head up high with his back straight and his eyes clear, "I won't let you down!"