Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Summary: The first time she meets him, she tells herself to love him. FugaMiko.
she will be loved
Mikoto has always known that she was to marry Uchiha Fugaku-san. He is her father's second cousin's aunt's nephew, and her mother's third cousin twice removed, and he is the Heir.
It is a good match, she is told, because she is beautiful and he is strong, and marrying him will bring honor to her family. This confuses her, because isn't she an Uchiha, and isn't everyone who lives in the District an Uchiha? Her parents never answer her. Her girl cousins stop talking to her.
Still, she agrees – not that they ask – and manages to be happy. She never ever meets him, and she thinks he probably won't, until they're married. She sits in her home learning to pour tea and sake, a hundred different embroideries, and a thousand different ways to bow: to your husband, to the Hokage, to the daimyo, to your mother, to your father.
The first time she meets him, it is an accident. She is fifteen, and he is standing beside a river; he is meditating, she thinks. She watches for a moment too long, and he opens his eyes to look at her. They are a comforting black, not the murderous red she once saw in her father's eyes.
She bows deeply, an Uchiha to her future leader, a lady to her future husband, and then she rushes away. Her steps are carefully paced, and the traditional kimono she has worn since she was twelve binds her legs together above the knee. The best she can manage is a fast walk, but it will have to do.
Two weeks later, at sixteen, she is taken to Uchiha Fugaku-san, her future husband. When she kneels before him on trembling legs, she swears to herself that she will love him. When she looks into his eyes, she discovers that she doesn't even have to try.
But it is not that simple, she finds. He does not speak to her more than absolutely necessary, often giving her monosyllabic answers and, worse, onomatopoeias. It is infuriating and depressing, and one day on the way home from a trip into the Village, she demands that she visit him and barges into his rooms unannounced, shutting the door behind her with a snap.
"Fugaku-san," she says, still facing the door. "I would like to love you very much. It is my duty as an Uchiha to marry you. Would it be so much to ask that you make this a littler easier on me? I understand that you may not want to marry me, but…"
A hand lands on her shoulder, and she blinks hard before forcing the tears back and looking at it. A look of shock and utter dismay crosses her face, and she quickly looks up at him, eyes wide with worry. With concern comes guilt, and a wave of apology tumbles from her lips, "Uchiha-san, I'm so sorry, I didn't know… I was just… I'm so sorry!"
To her chagrin, the tears that she was, just moments ago, able to blink away are dripping from the corners of her eyes. She gropes in her unfashionably bulky bag for a pack of tissues, and the bag tumbles from her shoulder to the floor. Immediately, she kneels, trying to hide the contents of the bag, blabbering apologies frantically.
With a wince, he bends over and plucks a stone jar from a side pocket. Weighing it in his unwounded hand, he stares wordlessly at her. She freezes, "Uchiha… Fugaku-san. I can explain, just… please, please don't tell my parents." She glances over at him and blushes before adding softly, "and please sit down."
Looking almost amused, he took a seat on his bed, leaning against eh wall with a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief.
She watched him, wringing her hands, before saying, "I… I'm doing a little… experimentation." Her mouth twisted wryly, "My father… he is getting on in years, and the Sharingan… he gets headaches, right behind his eyes, and…" She shrugged, helpless.
Fugaku unscrewed the cap, sniffing at it for a moment. He looked up, "This is not for headaches."
"No," Mikoto agreed, meek in the face of her future husband's possible rejection. "I found… find… the art of healing very… captivating."
"This is for burns," he said, as if he had not heard her.
"Yes," she managed to reply. "For… for the Katon."
For a second he paused, as though debating. Then he looked up at her and wordlessly began to unwrap his fingers.
She was at his side almost immediately, posture subservient, but her face set in such a way that he was certain she would never let him do it himself.
With a sigh, he let his hand drop to his side, watching as her pale fingers deftly unwrapped his burns, smeared the ointment on, and replaced the bandages with new ones, retrieved from her bag.
"Uchiha Mikoto," he says, finally. "It is my duty to marry you."
She looks up at him, eyes large and hopeful.
"I will never strive to make you unhappy."
His eyes capture hers, ands he thinks she understands what he is saying. Her head bows to hide her smile, and she answers.
"I will never strive to disappoint you."
"That is good," he replies, and then he stands and offers her his arm, as she has seen the Westerners do in movies, when she had been able to go out for such frivolous reasons. Blushing, she lays her palm on his forearm, and he slides open the door for her with a complete disregard for their culture that leaves her breathless.
She smiles up at him, as dazzlingly as she can, and she thinks that she will love him. And that she won't even have to try.