Chapter 2

(Day 4 Prompt)

Desenrascanço

To find an unexpected and unusual way to solve a problem.

"Three days," the small voice whispered next to Sasuke's elbow as he sat behind the shop computer, responding to email inquiries and ordering some accessories they were running low on. Earlier that morning he had sold a one of a kind, vintage Clarke pennywhistle to an aging woman with a particular passion for the instrument. That one purchase would cover their rent for the month.

So he could almost admit to being in a rather good mood.

"Hmm." He gave as his only response, eyes still fixed on his computer.

"Three da-ays," Souta repeated in a sing-song.

"So I've heard."

Souta's serious face swam into vision, blocking his view of the computer screen."You know what's happening in three days, right?"

Sasuke could hear the excitement in Souta's voice. Feeling buoyed by his earlier sale, and taking too much pleasure in pushing his nephew's buttons, he couldn't help but have some fun.

"Is it your makeup test for math? You know you have to get your grade up past a C, right?"

"Ughhhh, Uncle Sasuke, you know that's not what I'm talking about." Souta groaned, quickly giving up his rather poor attempt to broach the subject he'd been fixated on for months.

"Oh, right, I remember now," he said and Souta's face lit up.

"It's your night to clean the bathroom."

The boy's small face fell dramatically as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling in anguish. "Nooo! Don't you remember that it's my birthday!?" He wailed and Sasuke could no longer maintain the ruse as his lips curled up at the edges in amusement. He placed a hand on Souta's shoulder to calm him.

"Of course I remember. You've only brought it up every day for the last two months. I would sooner forget my own name at this point."

"So… you remember what I want then? You promised, Uncle Sasuke. Promised."

"And don't I know it…" he muttered to himself.

A little over ten months ago, caught up in the sharp grief of losing Itachi, Sasuke had promised Souta that upon his next birthday, he could start receiving lessons for whatever instrument in the shop he chose. At the moment it felt like the greatest extension of hope for the future that he could offer his young nephew. A way to remember his father and connect with him, even after the separation of death.

He couldn't even begin to count all the times he had witnessed Itachi sitting across from his son, teaching him the ins and outs of instrument after instrument. He showed him how to hold each one properly, where to place his fingers or strike a chord, how to correct his posture or shape his mouth. The boy soaked it up like a sponge, and before long had been introduced to nearly every instrument in the shop.

Unfortunately, Souta's fascination and love for the instruments was bottled up in the body of a young, rambunctious child and Sasuke lost track of all the times he had to scold him for getting a little too comfortable with an instrument. Playing was well and good, but at the end of the day they had to make a living. He simply couldn't afford for any of the inventory to be compromised.

It all came to a head one day after Souta knocked over a $500 sitar in an attempt to play it, nearly breaking off one of the tuning pegs. Sasuke had practically pulled out his hair at the money they almost lost due to the boy's recklessness.

Later that night after putting a very sorry Souta to bed, Itachi broached the subject.

"These instruments, while beautiful and precious, are best admired when directly handled. They exist to be played. Gathering dust on a shelf or a wall is a lesser fate for them."

Sasuke gave a dry remark about considering what a lesser fate theirs would be if every instrument in the store were subjected to the wiles of a six year old boy. Itachi simply fixed him with a look that communicated what only an older brother could. Patience. Amusement. Irony.

"Souta is perhaps a bit overeager, and clumsy…" a mild chuckle filtered through his lips. "But his heart is to help these instruments serve their purpose. His admiration for music comes from within his very soul. And that we must embrace and encourage, even at the risk of a few hundred dollars."

His brother's words that day had certainly corrected him, but he was struggling nonetheless to tap into that feeling at present.

"Souta, you have the choice of over 400 instruments in this store to learn. Are you sure you want to learn that one?"

His nephew nodded his head eagerly, while Sasuke hung his. He looked over his shoulder to the back corner of the shop where that ridiculous instrument lay, mocking him.

It was one of the only things Itachi didn't get around to showing his son before he died.

Sasuke looked back to his nephew, swallowing painfully as he gazed into those black eyes that reminded him so much of his late brother.

He had promised to find Souta a teacher, and was determined to make good on that promise.

There was only one slightly… monumental hitch.

He couldn't find anyone who actually knew how to play the damn thing.

And with only three days before Souta's birthday, he was preparing himself - with an ever increasing dread - to break the news. And likely break a young boy's heart along with it.

The following evening, Sasuke found himself refreshing his email for the hundredth time that day.

With only two days before Souta's birthday, he was checking his phone at an exceptionally unhealthy rate. So often, in fact, that even the boy started catching on to the fact that something was up. But with how his eyes lit up, it could be assumed that he figured Sasuke was hard at work setting up his music lessons.

Sasuke knew he should have been preparing for a plan B (or even C) before this point, but he frankly didn't know how to call it quits. After scanning through and confirming that he was getting absolutely no responses, he began drafting a new email to all of the music schools he had harassed over the past few months.

Perhaps they had similar instruments that could be taught.

After pressing send, he set his phone down and returned to the task at hand: heading out to his quarterly meeting with Sakura.

He stopped in front of the door as he turned to give his nephew a serious look. "No funny business this time, kid. You've disrupted Choji's restaurant enough as it is," referencing Souta's game of hide and seek at Akimichi's three months ago.

Sasuke was determined that this time he would finally tell Sakura that these meetings should be moved to somewhere less… formal. And dark. And without other patrons that would end up harassed by an outgoing, bored seven year old boy. Choji had been extremely gracious to them, giving Souta his own table in a corner and indulging many of his tendencies. But the strain was still growing too much to bear and after last time's disappearance, he could no longer allow them to continue on like this. He still hadn't fully admitted to himself how utterly terrified he was when he couldn't find Souta for those handful of minutes. The boy was more precious to him than anything. Definitely more precious than maintaining some kind of obligatory ritual in an attempt to emulate his brother's work ethic.

This meeting with Sakura was something that he discovered Itachi partook in only after he had died. Akimichi's Restaurant, once quarterly on a Friday night at 7pm, at the small table in the back left corner of the restaurant underneath an aging photo of Choji's smiling grandparents.

He desperately wished it was something that he could forego, but that was far from being the case. Sakura was, when it came down to it, one of the most important partners to the shop, working with them from almost the beginning.

So every three months, over dinner, they discussed everything from the newest acquisitions and potential purchases, to cost increases and shipping regulations.

Sakura was extremely knowledgeable and well connected. And damn it, she was good at her job. He also knew that she was flirtatious. It was more than a little obvious that she had a small crush on him.

Up to this point he had been able to maintain professionalism and shut down every advance that she would attempt, no matter how small. It helped that he just simply wasn't interested. Not in her, by any means, and not a relationship in general to be honest. Between running the shop and chasing around Souta, he barely had time to devote to something like that. Not that he had ever met anyone that would have convinced him otherwise.

They had just finished up their meal, Sasuke eager to wrap up their conversation about changes in international shipping procedures and request that moving forward, they no longer meet at Akimichi's.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you about these meetings." He said suddenly and Sakura's green eyes blinked back at him, jolted out of her tangential monologue about an experience she once had trying to ship a pair of shoes to a friend in Korea. Sasuke was not a smooth talker like his brother, tending to just get right to the point.

"Psst, Uncle Sasuke." A small finger poked at his arm and Sasuke looked briefly towards his nephew before continuing with the point that he had been ultimately trying to arrive at all night.

"Look, Sakura, I've been meaning to tell you-" another poke, this time to his shoulder.

Clenching his teeth, he began again. "I've been meaning to tell you that I think everything we discuss here could actually be done at the shop. Without distractions-"

Souta pulled at his sleeve with a sharp tug, unwilling to be deterred from his request. "Can I go say hi to Hinata?"

"Yes. Sure, fine, just go." Sasuke waved him off, eager to finally be able to finish his thought.

The boy ran to the kitchen with glee before his uncle could realize what exactly he gave him permission for.

"Like I said," Sasuke said after a large sigh. "Without interruptions."

Sakura blushed prettily at his words, clearly interpreting things a certain way.

"Well, you only needed to say something Sasuke. I agree that it would be nice to be able to meet in a more… private setting."

Her fingers inched forward bravely, nearly touching the tips of his, but not before he registered the movement and pulled his hand smoothly away. Covering the maneuver by grabbing his glass and taking a long drink of water, he continued.

"I simply mean that the interruptions by waiters, the conversations going on around us, and Souta's presence at these meetings have all made it difficult to concentrate and have resulted in our meetings being less productive."

Sakura had pulled her hand back at that point, recovering with grace and nodding in agreement.

At the mention of Souta, Sasuke finally registered that in his distraction he had given the boy permission to do something or the other that didn't involve sitting quietly at the table behind them.

"Where is Souta?" he voiced, annoyance searing through his veins, directed towards both the boy's antics and his own lapse in concentration.

Sakura took a sip of her wine and shrugged delicately, not seeming to be too terribly interested in the whereabouts of his nephew. "I think he asked about someone. Honoka? Haniko?"

Hinata was up to her elbows in raw chicken.

It was one of her least favorite tasks of her job. Deboning chickens, breaking them down, separating the different cuts. The slimy, slippery flesh and the raw smell made her skin crawl, and in such large quantities made her practically nauseous.

She was halfway through chicken number fourteen when a dark blur appeared at the edge of her vision. Turning to check what it could be, she instantly recognized the boy running towards her as he nearly tripped one of the line cooks in his haste. Ignoring the glare sent his way, Souta approached with a big grin on his face. It had been a few months since their encounter, but he had definitely made a lasting impression.

"Hi Hinata!"

"Oh! Hello, Souta. You recall my name?"

"Course! I'm pretty good with names. Plus you didn't blow my cover last time, which was pretty cool of you."

She smiled nervously, deciding not to admit that she had actually been very close to doing just that. Instead she asked, "No hide and seek again this time, are you?"

He laughed. "Nah. I promised Uncle Sasuke I wouldn't get into any funny business. I even asked him permission to come back and say hi to you, so we're all good!"

"That's good," she said, giving him an encouraging smile mingled with a small amount of relief. She wasn't sure she was quite ready to handle the intense scrutiny of his uncle yet again.

Standing there with chicken covered hands and unfamiliar with how to engage in banter with a young boy in her second language, she turned dumbly around and kept on with her task. Souta didn't seem to mind in the least, filling in the silence with the topic that ruled his thoughts day and night as of late.

"Do you know, it's my birthday in two days? I bet you can't guess how old I'll be."

"Oh, Happy Birthday," she said very sincerely, bestowing him a smile that would warm the coldest of hearts. Souta's eyes sparkled with joy, the moment solidifying a new friendship for the young boy.

"Let me see," she said, leaving the chicken in front of her for the time being. She remembered Choji mentioning the boy's age when they were looking for him last time, but decided to play along for a little while. She squinted playfully and tilted her head, pausing for suspense. "I believe you must nearly be…"

"I'm turning eight!" cried Souta, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

Hinata giggled at his excitement. "I thought it must be so."

"You wanna know the best part? Uncle Sasuke told me that I get to start taking music lessons!"

Hinata certainly wasn't expecting that, but continued to listen with rapt attention as Souta divulged the unique circumstances under which his uncle made such a promise. His excitement at finding a kindred spirit in Hinata, combined with his general exuberance over his impending birthday led the boy to speak non stop for nearly ten minutes straight, providing essentially his entire life's story.

And his story was a tragic one that pierced Hinata's heart. A lovely, spirited mother who died when he was only four years old. The subsequent arrival of a man who turned out to be his father. A move to a new country with new schools, new rules, new everything. His quick forming and fierce love for a talented father who loved music so much that he owned 'the coolest store that sold the most awesome instruments'. And then almost a year ago, the sudden death of his father, leaving him an orphan if not for his Uncle Sasuke.

But amidst the anguish of losing his father and coping with a new reality, was the bright promise that for his eighth birthday, he would get to choose any instrument in the shop to learn.

Hinata listened, her limited interactions with the intense and somewhat rude man now seen through a different lense. One where he was a grieving brother, a new guardian for a young boy, and a stressed out owner of a business that had fallen solely to him.

"Father showed me every single instrument in the store, all except for one. And that's the one I want to learn. I just knew he was saving the best for last. That's why I told Uncle Sasuke I want to learn th-"

"SOUTA."

The door to the kitchen swung open, revealing an extremely tense Sasuke. He began taking deliberate steps towards them and Hinata could only brace herself as he approached, sensing that he was not at all pleased to find his nephew back here once again. Souta, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his uncle's ire.

"Oh, hi, Uncle Sasuke! I was just telling Hinata about my birthday and about how you promised that I... could… learn…" his words trailed off as he finally noticed the clenching of the older man's fists and the tightness in his jaw.

His dark, sharp eyes shot towards Hinata, taking in everything from the pile of chicken carcasses surrounding her to the embarrassed flush of her cheeks. She shrunk slightly under the weight of his gaze, feeling suddenly very guilty and not totally sure as to why.

He looked back at Souta. "You have caused enough distractions here. Let her get back to her job."

"I-it's okay," Hinata uttered before she could help it, hating the dejection she saw in Souta's eyes and feeling the need to come to the boy's defense. "I didn't mind."

"You should mind," he responded coldly as his eyes snapped back to hers. "Chatting it up with a seven year old boy when you should be working doesn't exactly bode well for keeping a job, does it?"

She paled at his words, guilt and fear and a tiny bit of anger swirling around in her chest. He did have a point, she knew that. The last thing she wanted was to lose this job, and perhaps she shouldn't have let Souta talk for so long. But after hearing his story, she also knew that he could use every bit of kindness offered to him after enduring so much.

She considered all of this, but her mouth was much too clumsy and slow to respond with any of her thoughts. Not that she would have had the audacity to do so anyways.

Still, she felt the itch of missed opportunity as the pair began walking away, but not completely out of earshot.

"What did I tell you about messing around?" Sasuke asked, frustration lacing his voice.

"But I asked you and you said it was fine!" Souta retorted.

"I was clearly distracted when you asked and you knew it, Souta. This is the third meeting you've interrupted with your antics."

The boy rolled his eyes. "I don't get why it's such a big deal!"

"The big deal is that I'm trying to make sure your father's business doesn't go down the drain and all you can think about is entertaining yourself!" Sasuke's voice was rising in pitch and tension, his patience strung out nearly to its end.

But Souta couldn't help but continue to argue his point, stomping a foot as he went on. "I was just telling Hinata about my birthday. I told her about father too and what you promised after his funeral. About learning the koto!"

Sasuke snapped back fiercely, "It's not going to happen, Souta, so just STOP bringing it up!"

The boy froze, staring at his uncle in disbelief. In fact, the entirety of the kitchen staff was now watching the two in rapt attention.

"But you…you promised," he said with a pitiful whine.

Unfortunately, the floodwaters had burst forth and Sasuke seemed no longer able to hold back.

"Why should you deserve this, if you can't seem to listen to instructions in the first place? Even if I could find a teacher, which I can't, you shouldn't even get lessons at this point!" He finished his tirade, breathing heavily under the weight of his confession and unleashed irritation. Looking down at his nephew, he was already beginning to regret how things had unraveled so quickly. Sadly, he was too stubborn to change directions when he'd already dug himself so deep.

They stared at each other for a handful of long, silent seconds.

"I hate you."

It was muttered in the most deadly serious way, full of feeling and white hot resentment, as tears began to fall down the young boy's cheeks.

The silence was deafening in the kitchen and Sasuke seemed to finally register that they had an audience. But before he could tell them all to mind their own damn business, Souta exited the kitchen - not in a rush or a temper or by making any kind of a scene - just stalking away with silent, hateful dejection. Which seemed so much worse, somehow.

Hinata exhaled heavily after their departure, feeling guilty at witnessing the scene between uncle and nephew. Her heart felt the burden of empathy at seeing Souta's dreams being dashed in such a manner, but she was also in no position to judge Sasuke. It was clear that the man was strung tight and stressed out. And now, she had first hand knowledge of just all that he was carrying on his shoulders. It was a heavy load, indeed.

Her mind continued to wander for the rest of her shift. To the story Souta had shared with her. To the argument, and Sasuke's angry confession, and Souta's hateful declaration. To the tiny mention of - she could hardly believe her ears when she heard it - the koto.

But what replayed over and over in her head more than anything else was the briefest, broken look in Sasuke's eyes as he followed his nephew out of the kitchen.

On the morning of his eighth birthday, Souta sat quietly at the kitchen table, eating his favorite breakfast - blueberry pancakes - as Sasuke tried to fill in the silence that had pervaded their apartment over the last 36 hours with discussions of plans for the day.

After returning from Akimichi's the other night, Souta had walked stiffly to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, not emerging until late yesterday afternoon. Sasuke, unsure of what to do, vacillated between either barging into the room, starving him out, or slipping a lengthy note of apology under his door. In the end he went with none of those things, figuring it was best to simply wait for when Souta was ready to talk.

And when he was, they had a tense, but beneficial, conversation.

Sasuke was the first to apologize, feeling sick over how things ended at the restaurant. The mounting pressure at not finding Souta a teacher combined with the conversation with Sakura led to that absolutely atrocious outburst. He was certain that had to be the most unfortunate, miserable way possible to confess his failure at getting his nephew the thing he had promised for nearly a year.

Souta, too, acknowledged his misbehavior, but was still understandably hurt. Dinner last night had been a quiet affair, followed by an episode of their favorite show and an early bedtime for the both of them.

Sasuke understood that only time could heal things at this point. He couldn't go back to change what happened on Friday, and he couldn't conjure a koto teacher out of thin air either. So, he did the next best thing. He resorted to plans…E, F, G? Who really knew at this point. All of yesterday morning was spent setting up lessons for every stringed instrument he could find - the guitar, the harp, the sitar, the mandolin, even the godforsaken banjo. And while none of them really came close to what Souta actually wanted, he was determined that he would do whatever it took to find something the boy would be happy to get his hands on and alleviate the hurt of not learning the koto.

"Happy Birthday, Souta."

Sasuke slid the small envelope across the table, proof of his desperate efforts yesterday morning.

Souta, swallowing his last bite of pancakes, grabbed the envelope with sticky fingers and looked at it for a long moment before shifting his gaze back up to his uncle.

Clearing his throat, Sasuke continued. "I know it's not what you were hoping for. It's not what I promised. But I… I still hope you like it."

Giving a warm smile that extended way more grace than was deserved, Souta softly thanked him.

Sasuke's chest tightened as he looked back at Souta. He was so damn proud of the kid. Of how he'd grown and who he was shaping up to be. So impressed at how he handled things this past year. Amazed that he still had so much love to give, and joy to offer. Most of all, he was in awe at how Souta could - after all he had gone through - find good things in the world around him.

There wasn't a single day that passed without finding himself in disbelief that this is how things were. Not a single day where he didn't miss Itachi and wish he was there. But today, on Souta's first birthday since Itachi had died, Sasuke felt the weight of losing Itachi washing over him almost as painfully as the day it happened.

Ready to move on from his sentimental, heavy thoughts, he practically breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the sudden knock on their door. It was only a second later that he realized he wasn't expecting anyone to be stopping by.

Hinata stood nervously in front of the door, holding a box of cookies in sweaty hands and regretting whatever insanity it was that led her to this place. After finishing her shift the other night, she had made a decision that she was certain was either completely stupid or absolutely brilliant.

Though she had lived in this city for over a year now, this was the first time that she had ever visited someone else's home. The fact that she was showing up unannounced, without being invited, filled her with panic. She nearly turned around to abandon the entire endeavor at least five times in the 20 minute trip from her apartment to this place. But by some miracle, she had arrived.

Making friends had always been challenging for Hinata, even when she lived back in her home country. She was generally shy and soft spoken, and didn't have a personality that drew others in. So here, in this new county, with her limited language and long hours at the restaurant, it felt nearly impossible to even meet others, let alone make a friend.

That was, until a small boy pretending to be a bag of potatoes entered the picture.

It felt crazy to her, that she was doing this after having only met Souta - and Sasuke by extension - twice. But somehow the boy had broken through every barrier, worming his way into a little corner of her heart. It had been years since she felt something like this - the warmth of caring for someone. She forgot how much she missed it, and couldn't help but chase the feeling.

So that is what brought her here.

Shifting the box so she could free one of her hands, she lifted a hand and knocked gently on the door.

Hinata fretted, feeling the gravity of what she had just done. Perhaps they wouldn't hear and she could leave the cookies and run. Yes, that would be okay. She had written a note, so Souta would still know where they came from. She would likely see him again at the restaurant anyways.

But before she had fully made up her mind to turn and escape, the door opened to reveal a very confused Sasuke, piercing her with his gaze that seemed perpetually sharp.

"H-hello," she stuttered out.

He blinked once or twice, as though she was the last person he ever would have expected to be standing at the other side of her door. Shaking his head as though to clear it, he cocked a dark brow before asking, "What are you doing here?"

Wordlessly, she lifted the lid of the box to show him a dozen iced cookies with the words 'Happy Birthday' piped neatly across each one.

Just then, a small dark head emerged beneath Sasuke's armpit. Wide, excited eyes twinkled up at her.

"Hinata!" Souta exclaimed.

"Happy Birthday, Souta." She said, extending the box of cookies towards him.

"Wow! Thank you!" He grabbed the box, looking ready to gobble them all up in one go.

Sasuke didn't move his gaze from Hinata as he spoke to his nephew. "Why don't you go put them on the table, Souta. I'll be right there."

Souta looked quickly between Hinata and his uncle in understanding. "Okay," he said as he dashed off, "but don't expect any to be left for you if you take too long!"

The silence after Souta left was profound and Hinata could almost hear the pounding of her heart, unsure at what Sasuke could possibly want to say to her. Would he scold her again? Tell her she should have never presumed? Ask her to leave him and his nephew alone for good?

"That's the happiest he's been in two days," he said quietly, and her eyes - which had been fixed to the ground - shot up to his. She nearly gasped at how different his eyes looked when they lost some of their sharpness.

Their eyes locked briefly before he was actually the first to shift his gaze away, the smallest trace of pink making its way to his cheeks.

They both continud to stand there awkwardly, for different reasons. Sasuke, embarrassed at remembering just how public his ugly row with Souta was the other night. Hinata, at the sudden thought that he looked rather… nice… when his eyes softened and his face warmed.

"Well, I guess… thank you," Sasuke finally spoke into the dead space between them before beginning to close the door.

"W-wait!" She called out just before the door shut completely, remembering the other reason for her visit.

He opened it just enough to show his face, clearly hinting that he had reached his capacity for vulnerability with someone he hardly knew.

"I can teach Souta." She said without preamble or explanation.

The door opened wider until he stood fully framed, staring back at her like she had spoken another language. She wondered for a second if perhaps she had.

"I play. The koto." Hinata explained. "Used to," she added with a whisper.

He stood there for a painfully long time, utterly still and fixing her with a look she could not possibly decipher. She attempted to translate his gaze which had once again turned hard, thinking that perhaps he was insulted at her presumption and would slam the door shut at any moment. Or maybe he was pained at the reminder that he let down his nephew. Or maybe he was simply calculating whether she was pulling a joke and was thinking of a way to test her.

The last thing she would have ever expected was to find herself engulfed in his surprisingly warm embrace, as he whispered an earnest 'thank you' into her hair.