Hello My Honeys,
I apologize that my SasuHina month may end up running into September and into October. I have quite a few stories planned and so little time to do them in.
I'll keep these notes short. But I'd like to say thank you SO much for those who reviewed, it truly, truly, means the world to me. I appreciate it.
Secondly: Any of these stories ending in the Kanji: 続く -Tsuzuku - Means there will be a follow up to the story. It will be continued on another day of SasuHina months that correlates to its plot in the prompts.
Today is:
Day 4:
Prompt: Spring Hanami: The Flowers of the Season / Childhood Connection
Rating: T
蘇芳香: Sappanwood Incense
「8月4日」
Erupting in a flare of cinder and flame, the bright solar morn illuminated miles of sacral periwinkle sky and cotton-lavender clouds. Dyeing the wisps of a pastel veil high and polar bright, the lingering dregs of winter still dared to dance among the shower of candy-floss petals and transient sakura incense.
It was almost time for Hanami again, the effervescent spring shedding its two-week cherry-blossom praxis as nature continued to bourgeon delicate buds of moonstone pink. A twenty-eight-year-old Sasuke barely paid the yearly phenomenon any attention, polished black boots treading a harried path across Tokyo University's immaculate campus garden as the creeping shadows marked a rapid decline in temperature.
The Uchiha had never been a morning person, breaths misting haunting plumes of cotton-white as long shoulder-length bangs carefully curtained the left side of his face in an asymmetrical slant. The long indigo scarf settled around his neck did little to shield him from the encompassing cold — even dusting the tips of his ears a telling red.
With an elegant ebony coat undulating restlessly against his calves as he walked, the youngest professor in tenure at Geidai became a monochrome statue bedecked in charcoal grey and colorless black. Starched pinstriped slacks and a formfitting knitted turtleneck only accentuated the sleek-obsidian ice of his visible right eye. His left, a strange birth defect marked in wisteria-grey with concentric Samsara-circles and six-tamoe; carefully concealed behind a curtain of raven-iridescence.
Leagues of ophthalmologists had struggled to decipher the strange scleraless eye he was born with, never quite grasping the reason for its appearance or able to prove a detrimental disability it inspired in his everyday life. Most were too afraid to gaze at its form for longer than a few seconds, absolutely petrified of the soul-deep dissonance it seemed to echo.
It was an otherworldly construction his martial arts instructor believed, a gift of the gods his mother's psychic predicted, a medical marvel his brother insisted and a beautiful portal to his soul…a haunting voice in his memory recalled.
Whatever it was, Sasuke already learned it was better concealed behind a barrier. Whether it was hidden beneath a medical eyepatch, his stubbornly closed eyelid or the feral strands of his hair. The twenty-eight-year-old could never quite forget how much he despised being the center of attention, especially considering he was already branded the prodigal second son of multinational business mogul Uchiha Fugaku.
It was more than enough that his prized lineage drew international attention. It only grew worse when his father low-key disowned him the moment he found out his son was accepted into the Tokyo University of Arts instead of Todai's elite law department.
Sasuke's unique passion and interests paved a far more difficult path than what his family mapped out for him as their son — even if he was now much acclaimed for his genius accolades and academic achievements in classical circles.
All that truly seemed to matter to the Uchiha was that he was realms away from his brother's encompassing business prodigy and pointblank refused to take over as CFO at Sharingan International at his father's behest.
His rebellious nature and stubborn pride quickly derailed any hopes they had for him as an adult. It also seemed to grate on their nerves that Sasuke absolutely refused to yield to his father's next convoluted scheme hoping to draw him back under his control—.
Breathing a quiet sigh of irritation, a lean frame just shy of two-meters bowed forward momentarily as he curled his right hand a little tighter around the metallic glint of his phone and polished mahogany baton case. They were laying atop an ebony leather portfolio clasped nonchalantly against his forearm, his mind a million miles away from the pressing scheduled he had that morning.
It was almost as if—.
"Shit!" The unexpected and abrupt hitch in his gait jerked his body to a halt, a painful collision running headlong into his torso as a flurry of sheet music, a delicate lavender portfolio, water bottle and purple music case ended up clattering on the icy footpath.
Sasuke instinctively reached forward to stop his victim's fall, a stark flare of irritation and bodily discomfort shuddering through his limbs as he hooked an arm around a generously curved waist and a luscious feminine silhouette intuitively molded itself against his frame.
The solar glare of the sun was catching a pearly-black iridescence illuminating long spherulitic strands, the magnificent stratos length of her hair falling like shimmering galaxies of silk down his arm as the delicate scent of peach-blossoms and vanilla cream spiraled against his senses.
She dug slim fingertips in the lapels of his coat, the heady brush of a grey, knee-length, knitted dress eliciting a flare of static electricity between them as his entire world narrowed in on the hauntingly wide ametrine orbs gazing up at him in mortified surprise.
"I-I'm s-so s-so-sorry!" She gasped, her voice lilting like a tranquil lullaby at night as a single onyx orb refused to look away from the eerie pupiless-opalescence refracted in her gaze. A dangerous rouge was already rising to cover the roundness of her cheeks, her guileless timidity swiftly but clumsily yanking herself from his grasp just as quickly as she settled against him to steady her lost equilibrium.
"I-I'm sorry! I w-w-wasn't looking w-w-where I was going!" She bowed in contrition, taking two steps back from their intimate proximity as the indigo tips of her hair cascaded like water over her shoulder to brush the icy pavement.
The genuine regret in her voice was a sound Sasuke was not used to hearing in situations like these. The usual flare of triumph and lust in a woman's gaze or voice when they managed to 'stumble' into him like this was completely absent — neither could he say she deliberately grasped at his torso like she wanted to climb him like a tree.
It was only her gentle honesty and obvious distress that stalled the usual brusqueness of his reply, a quiet nod of understanding excusing her careless clumsiness just as much as his own inattentiveness as he drew on decades of manners his mother drilled into him since he was a child.
He knelt down to help her gather the reckless spill of her belongings, the twenty-eight-year-old unable to dismiss his own flicker of discomfort at the glitter of mortified tears gathering in the corner of her eye.
"I-I'm s-sorry—."
"Hn." He quickly dismissed. "It's fine."
"Will your instrument be alright?" He asked instead, his timbre surprisingly smooth and gentle in comparison to its usual apathetic intonation. Manicured wisteria-stardust fingertips hesitantly but lovingly picked up the instrument case situated a foot to his left, the Uchiha professor instantly marking its construction and size as that of a woodwind.
The leather sheath was coloured an unusual purple and black, the two rabbit-tail bag accessories matching the deep lavender of her scarf and merino-grey dress as she swung the strap over her shoulder.
The black opaque stockings and platform Mary Jane heels only added to her outfit's understated coordination, a chunky black belt deliberately accentuating the voluptuous chinch of her waist and overgenerous bust.
It had been a long time since Sasuke found his attention captured so wholly by the guileless beauty of a person rather than his work, a delicate dusting of pink colouring his cheeks as her perfectly painted nails brushed his hand the moment he handed her a purple-top water container and half the spilled parchment within his reach.
"I-It should be," She answered shyly, hastily kneeling beside him, hem of her dress carefully tucked beneath her calves and thighs, as she gathered the last of her scrambled papers and stuffed them haphazardly inside a lavender portfolio.
The delicate brush of her hand rose, momentarily, to timidly tuck a messy spill of blue hair behind her left ear.
"I-inside is p-protected by a h-hardwood case." She reassured, the twenty-eight-year-old Uchiha nodding in understanding as he reached forward to slip his own dropped phone and mahogany baton case inside his coat pocket. He offered a hand to help her to her feet, an innate curiosity and genuinely beguiled interest unable to cast his gaze from the vivacious swell of her chest, trailing hair and unassuming manner as she offered one last bow of apology before hurrying away.
Sasuke didn't move until the click of her heels were but a memory, a haunting sense of déjà vu born from her hesitant manner and moonlit orbs as an irritable niggle of nostalgia ruptured in the back of his mind. Sasuke was sure he had seen those wisteria opals somewhere in his life before, his very soul quivering at the look of tender affection, understanding, recognition and childlike innocence she briefly directed at his gaze not too long ago.
"Hn." Curling his free hand in a frustrated fist by his side, the Geidai professor shook his head in delirious thought as his mind descended into a hazardous daze. Absent movements were rewinding the indigo scarf more firmly around his neck, a visible shiver of regret ejecting him from a spiral of near-forgotten memories as he headed in the direction of the campus' main music building.
There were still a million and one things he had to do before his first class that day, never mind the private four-hour tutoring session he promised his colleague he would take over for the propriety of the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra.
It was their first time hosting a graduate soloist student still in need of understanding his cues in a professional sense. It wasn't every day, after all, they landed the most sought-after conductor in Japan for their seasonal Hanami recital but insisted on using an insecure oboist still hesitant in expressing their own voice.
. . .
Startling slightly in surprise when the door to the music room suddenly opened, Uchiha Sasuke absently lowered the takeaway cup of coffee, no milk and sugar, he bought a few minutes ago onto the desk behind the Blüthner Grand. He had been scanning the notations of the concert he was to be directing a month from now, the thick ream of papers discarded haphazardly on the piano's lacquered music stand.
The ebony and ivory keys sparked momentarily in the midmorning sunlight, the cheerfully golden rays gleaming through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows as the room looked out onto a small koi pond situated just outside. The weeping cherry blossoms and fresh spring green shrubs were swiftly but silently throwing away the winter-burnt flora, the wind carrying with it a flurry of premature, dancing, petals as a flicker of heterochromic onyx-wisteria orbs turned in the direction of the doorway.
The twenty-eight-year-old almost couldn't believe what he was seeing.
She stood there, frozen, in the corridor's liminal verge.
Haunting ametrine orbs were blinking at his semi-relaxed posture in surprise, a momentary parting of her lips breathing a quiet gasp before a lilting 'shitsurei shimasu' greeted him in apology.
The professor was somewhat amused the woman was still visibly embarrassed by their earlier encounter, a reaction he found in complete contrast to the soft but serene glide of her heels towards the individual music stand set up just beside him.
"Midday tutorial?" He enquired with a raised brow, a languid lick of his forefinger shuffling through the ream of his class papers for Handel's Phantasia in G Minor and Marcello's3rd Concerto as he watched his student nod a sincere affirmation before she unzipped the black and lilac leather instrument cover to remove an inner purple case.
"H-Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha-hakase." She introduced herself. "I-it's an honour to make y-your acquaintance."
"Ah." The conductor nodded, a frown of intrigue furrowing his brow when the sound of her name didn't quite stir the recognition he was sure he should have experienced by now. There was something otherworldly calling him to her, something binding and steeped in the darker, more depreciating, parts of his memory.
It tainted his thoughts with a strange sense of possessive protectiveness and misunderstood fear even now, an evocative cry of elusive whimsy and loss spiralling to the forefront of his mind as he attempted to escape the roiling emotional toil by pinching the bridge of his nose.
It did little to ease his trembling soul, the groove of age drawn in the corner of his eye a little more pronounced in fatigue as he breathed a quiet sigh.
Forcefully shaking himself from his thoughts, the Uchiha professor instructed his student to set up as he watched elegant fingertips assemble a beautiful Loree Royal Amethyst Oboe. The young woman, probably five years his junior, handled the polished grenadilla wood and sectioned joints exceptionally well.
Gold-plated keys flimmered, near-blindingly, in the line of his gaze; a unique princess-cut amethyst delicately inlaid on the oboe's bell joint as manicured fingertips rifled through a genuine Japanese Lacquer case to find a soaked reed for her performance.
Only time would tell, however, if she mastered the instrument.
Though, privately, Sasuke desperately hoped she would meet his expectations…that the sound of her oboe would jog the irritable slowness of his memory that day. The quality and ease of her movements as she assembled the instrument certainly expressed a higher competence than he saw in most. But then again, soloists in any field had to be better than mere diamonds in the rough to lead the TPO in concert.
"A-Ano, U-Uchiha-hakase, d-do you mind if I warm up?" Shaking his head in the negative, Sasuke found his single visible onyx orb completely mesmerised by the flit of her fingertips across delicate keys as she ran through an array of chromatic scales, technical slurs and short but meaningfully-ranged melodies.
It certainly was a rare experience for him to be so drawn in by the instant purity of her sound, of the sometimes hesitant but clear musical 'voice' she employed even in the watery sway of air and spring. He could certainly see why she was chosen to lead the Hanami Concert; her soft transience and timidity added an ethereal quality to classical music he had not heard in a long time.
Yet, he could still not recall where he knew her from…where his very soul knew her from—.
It was there and gone in a matter of seconds: the flicker of spring air and a small hand clasped protectively in his…the joyful exclamation of his mother and brother, a stuttering whisper and timid smile hidden behind soft hime bangs. And words, gentle, loving, tender words that changed his painfully cursed perspective on the wisteria-lavender dysmorphia of his left eye—.
"Right." Dragging frustrated fingers through the raven slant of his bangs, pale lips pursed in a flare of irritation as he reached for his own silver-cuffed baton and settled it back in its velvet case. Things were destined to go nowhere if he didn't start paying attention to the task stretching out before him, especially since there was still half a day left to complete.
"We'll work through Handel's Phantasia and then Marcello's second movement. Be sure to keep up." Sasuke usually didn't accompany his students on the piano when he taught, he preferred reigning over them from the sanctuary of his rostrum.
With Hyūga Hinata however, he was coming to realise nothing really went as he expected.
For the first time in a long time, the twenty-eight-year-old truly lost himself in the flow of another musician. The graduate student certainly earned her title as a celebrated oboist, her very body and soul subjugated to the composition as if she could coax apart the threads of the universe and breathe to life a multihued neutron star.
Sasuke knew this correlation would inevitably die when they parted — its very existence destined to fade as frustratingly quickly and painfully as his memory that day.
The entire four-hour class turned into less of a tutorial and more a of meeting of souls, the two-hour half mark forcing the Uchiha conductor to still the flit of his fingertips and quiet directions as his mind reeled internally at the abrupt and heavy gravity suddenly forcing his consciousness back to reality.
Sasuke couldn't take it anymore, black wool coat long since forgotten on the free space of the piano stool beside him as he breathed for the first time in what felt like centuries.
Hinata stilled not long after him, plush embouchure withdrawn from the shape of her reed as the twenty-eight-year-old raked an irritable palm through the feral locks of his hair. It was tickling the flush of his cheeks, a visibly puzzled frown furrowing his brow as he turned on his seat to face the genuine musical treasure before him.
"Have we met?" He asked.
"H-Hai." The indigo-haired Hyūga flushed. "T-This mor—."
"No," Sasuke interrupted, his palm curling in a frustrated fist by his side as a warning glare darkened his pupiless onyx orb. He was scrutinizing her body from top to toe, drinking in the luscious womanly curves and soft innocent features that greeted him. Her long midnight hair was dancing hypnotically in the breeze of an open window, oboe clasped demurely in her lap as she tipped her head forward shyly at his close scrutiny.
"Before that. I know you from somewhere and—."
"I didn't think you'd remember." She iterated softly; airy voice whispery quiet and tenderly sweet as beautiful moonlike orbs lifted to collide tenderly with his.
"It's been so long." The oboist sounded whimsically sad, an almost childlike quality radiating in the timbre of her voice as she smiled openly, nostalgically, at his near-unbreakably aloof features for the first time. It was a sight he unconsciously wanted to sear into the back of his eyelids, he swore, for eternity.
"You've grown so much, S-Sasuke-nii. You look a little more like Fugaku-Oji now than when you were the spitting image of Mikoto-Oba when you were younger." Bittersweet agony froze him in place a second later, heart squeezing painfully in his chest as a floodgate of memories surfaced in the depths of his mind.
The air instantly flew from his lungs in a shaky exhale.
It had been so long, he mourned. So long since he last saw the little Hime that adored him as a child, that practically adopted him as her older brother when she could have chosen Itachi in the summer of his fifth year in elementary. It had been a particularly difficult year in his life, inspiring not only an ocean of self-doubt in his conscience but hatred, fear and vivid insecurity as well — especially considering the natural isolation and teasing he suffered because of his unique left eye.
She was that little Hime? The little stratos fairy with her short pixie hair, shy bangs, wide eyes, soft smile and dainty steps often following him, step for step, on the many days he was forced to endure the ridicule of a bitter ophthalmologist and terrified mother when he nearly plucked the accursed left orb from his socket—.
The little girl had only been six at the time, oftentimes dropped alone at the doctor's office with an inattentive older cousin because her rigid father was busy with work and her family wanted answers for the seemingly miraculously clear vision but blind looking eyes she possessed.
"Y-you were the f-first to e-ever tell me there was nothing wrong me." Hinata continued softly, "the f-first to m-make me believe I was m-more than w-what others saw me as."
"Y-you saved me." Unable to stop the awkward quirk of disbelief kissing his lips, Sasuke turned his face from the blinding sincerity in her smile as he absently mourned the loss of the solar brightness he could vividly recall illuminating her ametrine-silver orbs.
The previous apprehension seemed to uncoil from his limbs the longer she remained in his presence, a nonchalant elbow planted thoughtfully on the edge of the piano as he exhaled a shaky breath.
"You made me a protector." He said, deliberately leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand so a mass of raven bangs could spill haphazardly over the skin of elegant fingertips. "You made me love the curse I was born with." Gazing at her from between the gaps of messy onyx strands, the wisteria-lavender of his left eye spiralled an exotic six-tamoe daze behind hooded lashes.
This was the beautiful soul that changed his perspective on his entire life, shifted his mind away the bitter insecurities and inadequacies he believed he still possessed and soothed the howling sense of unbelonging he constantly carried on his shoulders—.
When the Hime set her instrument aside to stand boldly before him, the twenty-eight-year-old tipped his head back to connect their eyes once more. The air was cracking with a frenetic and evocative energy, emotions he had long since sealed behind inexpressive apathy brazenly crossing his features as she stepped up to his parted thighs and stretched out a shy palm.
When he didn't react negatively to her proximity or the silent plea in her eyes, the twenty-four-year-old oboist traced his left temple with gentle fingertips and cupped his cheek in a tender caress. She was gently hooking the asymmetrical slant of his bangs behind his left ear, a tender smile alighting her features when Sasuke did not reflexively close his unique eye or wrench himself from her grasp.
It was only fair, after all.
Naked, raw, and exposed; mismatched onyx-wisteria orbs gazed at equally unveiled ametrine-silver. A gentle thumb was tracing the line of fatigue drawn in the corner of his eye, mapping the curious samsara spiral and scleraless wisteria blinking dazedly at her from surprisingly feminine lashes.
"It's still as b-beautiful a-as I remember," She breathed. "Just like you."
"Hn." Was all he said, the emotionally charged moment carving a new path of unusual need beneath his skin as he grinned in amusement at her swiftly deepening blush. He desperately wanted to repeat the words back to her, yet he only found enough courage to whisper it in the private confines of his mind.
She really was just as beautiful and enchanting as he remembered, the little opaline-eyed fairy he wanted to marry at the age of ten despite never being able to see girls as anything but an annoyance constantly vying for his attention and her being several years his junior.
She, however, she was different…sweet and all-encompassing and uncompromisingly his since she first moment she called his name.
Sasuke wanted…and what he wanted, the Uchiha had to have.
続く
If I could, please, ask my Honeys for a tiny review for my hard work, I would greatly appreciate it. It would truly make my day to hear back from you. Any comments about the things you loved, the plot or questions you may have...I would be happy to hear.
Thank you, as always, for reading. Please look forward to my next update. :)