family affair
nine:
angel numbers
Sasuke woke to dreams where money slid out of his pockets while his father whispered into his ears with his hands on his shoulders. He was eight years old. In front of him, 5000 yen bills spread out on the table. His father pressed his hands into the surface, his ring-clad knuckles and age-speckled fingers insistent on something. He kept gesturing, over and over again, running his hands, his yellowed fingernails, over the old, delicate-looking currency. He spoke in whispers Sasuke did not understand.
When he opened his eyes, it was to stare at Sakura's back as she pulled a sports bra over her shoulders. Hesitant winter light spilled in from the windows above her bed, casting the shadows of tree branches over her cream-colored walls. She pulled her hair into a ponytail with a flick of her wrists, saying simply, "You must've been tired. You're usually up before me."
He'd gotten a rare weekend free from the Syndicate, in which Hiashi likely felt bad about his leg wound while simultaneously reveling in the accomplishment of taking an Akatsuki club and killing one of their members. Sasuke later found out that the guy's name had been Deidara, a serial terrorist that had been on the federal most-wanted list for half a decade.
It was a trick of the light when he looked at Sakura and saw a flicker of ink against her back, an image of a woman with a knife held in her mouth. He rolled over, closing his eyes, and saw the red of his eyelids stare back at him. His body hurt. The image of money gathered around the red spots and he idly reached into his pants pockets to feel the edge of the worn 5000-yen bill.
"Merry Christmas by the way," she said after Sasuke said nothing. She moved around her apartment like water, adjusting different items as she ran into them. Something hit him in his chest. A gift.
"Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas," he replied, turning the gift around with deft fingers. It was wrapped in newspaper. He sat up and looked at her for the first time that morning, "you didn't have to get me anything."
Sakura rolled her eyes, waltzing into the kitchen as pink stains began to color her cheeks. She hid behind an open cabinet. "I know," she said. "Want coffee?"
"Sure," Sasuke said. He was frowning, thinking deeply about something, and holding the unopened gift in his palms. "If Deidara had been on a federal wanted list for years, why didn't they go to ANBU for help?"
"I dunno," Sakura was chewing on something absently, her words coming out muffled. "Maybe they didn't have the budget?"
"So...they didn't have the budget to catch him, but they had one for fixing all the infrastructural damages he caused?"
"Sasuke," he heard her sigh from within her small kitchen. The noises of her moving things around ceased suddenly. Agitated energy filled the studio. "It's Christmas––can we not talk about work for one day?"
"Work is why I'm here," he responded without pause.
"Okay well, can we not talk about work for two hours? Look at what's in front of you for once!" Sakura exited the kitchen, now wearing a silk red robe he hadn't noticed she'd put on. She held two steaming cups of coffee in either hand. Her features were arranged in anger...or hurt.
Sasuke looked down at his half-opened gift. He nudged it open as he frowned, his hands stopping suddenly. "Sakura I––"
"Don't, Sasuke," she muttered. Now she looked down too, into the depths of the coffee. "I know I'm not-––I know. Just let me pretend for one day. I don't get to pretend very often, okay?"
"I know," he said. He looked around the apartment for what felt like the first time since he'd arrived. He got there the night before, near midnight when Sakura led him to her bed without so much as turning on the lights. I want to be held, he remembered her asking, while you fuck me.
Sasuke realized his grave error after it was too late. Now that it was morning and he could look around the apartment with clarity, rather than the lust-ridden haze that transfixed him last night. He noticed a few key things: her desk was clear, her guns were tucked away, and her laundry was done.
Had she...cleaned up for him? He finished unwrapping the gift to reveal a small gold chain with a tiny fan attached––it mimicked the Uchiha insignia with minute detail. If he wore it around his neck, the charm would disappear around his collar.
He was stunned, staring at the chain with wide eyes in a way that was so unlike his usual demeanor that Sakura ducked back into the kitchen, leaving his cup of coffee on the floor beside him. He held it gingerly between his fingers. Cleared his throat. Cleared it again and said, "I––uh-–thank you, Sakura."
He could pretend for her. Just for a little while.
-:-
As they later found out, if Sasuke went into the office, Sakura had to, too.
She scanned her card, her fingerprints, and her retinas with a red-faced frown as Sasuke trailed behind her, his face a mask within his literal mask. In their expressions, there was no hint at what they had spent hours doing on a Christmas morning after Sakura had all but guilt-tripped him into staying.
Coffee gone cold and cigarettes smoked down to ash, Sakura collected her discarded robe from the floor with a sullen pout when she realized it was time to go.
When they entered her office, Ox was already there, looking through mountain piles of material. Without pause, Sasuke launched into story, describing the dynamics of the Hyuga Syndicate while Sakura took steady notes on her tablet. He described the layout of the Estate, the secretiveness of the Affair, and the initiation process with a light tongue––offering this information like it meant nothing to him. Until...
"Well, what about this daughter?" Ox said impatiently when Sasuke finished his report. "Does she have a role in the day-to-day?"
When Sasuke paused––his speech halted against his will––he felt Sakura's eyes on him. They seemed to dissect the pause and the hesitance like they wanted to pry open the tongue and spill the secrets onto the ground for her and Ox to behold.
But he had no secrets, and he didn't know why he paused. Perhaps, his only error was being attracted to Hinata––which he hadn't allowed himself to admit until this point. It was easy to be attracted to her and her quiet enduring power, her rosy cheeks, and the slow and sure way she chose her words. It was easy to see why someone could glimpse the art on her back and want to see more.
Sakura was still staring. Sasuke made up for his pause by pretending to be in thought and saying, "Not that I've noticed, but I haven't gotten to interact with her. The only thing I know for sure is that she does initiation tattoos."
The urge to lie had snuck out of him so easily that he almost believed himself. He'd have to process this later when two sets of eyes weren't focused on his intelligence report.
Ox didn't doubt him, or at least, didn't show it outwardly. "Okay fine. Tell us about the Foreign Car Garage."
Sasuke launched into story once again, and once again left out a detail featuring the glass of liquor, and the yen, and the Uchiha fan tattoo. It wasn't unusual that he left out details of reports, choosing to obscure them until he figured out what to do or acquire more substantial information, but it was odd that he was doing it seemingly for no reason. At least, in the Hyuga Princess's case. He felt like he wanted to keep her private like she was a puzzle he wanted to figure out himself. Once he did, ANBU could delight in all the information they wanted.
The Uchiha was good at his job, so almost no one questioned him after Sakura closed her tablet and Ox stood to leave the room. Ox gave him a couple of stern pats on his back, telling him to "hang in there" and "not to lose his head."
He did not tell her, or Sakura for that matter, that he already felt as if he was losing it. Being thrust into a world so much like the one he'd been raised in for the first nine years of his young life was seriously fucking with his head. His dreams had been worse than normal, often clawing him back to sleep and flinging him into a darkness so robust he'd wake with his heart leaping from his chest.
He saw the Hyuga's eyes and was reminded of the gunshots. When he stepped onto the tatami mats of the Affair room, his throat constricted with memory.
Here was one: His father sitting at a dining table, a silver ink pen in hand as his mother shucked peas into a dish. He was seven. The doors were open to the acres of land that existed behind their home; the compound felt compacted by sun. Sasuke reveled in it as he sat still beside his father. He was explaining something.
"There is an ancient scratching technique we use," Fugaku was saying. Incense filled the air and Sasuke felt himself sit taller, tracing the smoke's path with his gaze. "to send each other messages. It dates back to the Time of the Shinobi. I want you to learn it."
Sasuke watched with wide eyes as his father flipped the pen over and exposed the silver edge of a small knife. Before them lay several pieces of paper. With small, meticulous movements, Fugaku began to scratch the paper, each line so different yet so small, that Sasuke could barely see them.
"Only the blood know this," his father continued, the scratching making soft noises of paper being sliced. It comforted Sasuke and he rested his chubby cheek upon his hand, his eyelashes catching sun as they fluttered with interest.
"The blood?"
Fugaku nodded, "Yes. We who are born Uchiha. Not everyone who is in the Uchiha Syndicate is of Uchiha blood, and so not everyone in the Uchiha Syndicate is 100% trustworthy. It is the blood, and only the blood, you trust with your life."
"Okay," Sasuke said. His finger rubbed the marked grooves now in the paper. "I'll only trust scratches from you and 'tachi."
"And mommy," Mikoto hummed, noncommittally preparing food. "I know how to scratch, too. And you came from me."
Fugaku said nothing, but a small smile intoned his features. They all settled in nicely around the wooden table, their chairs padded with deep red cushions, their glasses cool with iced juices. Fugaku was a rare picture of soft edges as he taught his youngest son how to decode the markings, introducing him to an entire universe of symbols and secret alphabets. The blood would carry Sasuke forward, the code would show him the way.
Sasuke jolted out of memory when Sakura asked to find dinner after the meeting––a task she said might not reach fruition given the holiday. "Ox told me that Ramen Shack is probably open," she said as she logged out of her various interfaces and locked them with long streams of numbers. "I liked their broth––you know? The fish one with all the garlic and scallions? Honestly, I feel like you can't get broth that good in Konoha, one good thing about being here, I guess––"
She was talking a lot because she was nervous. After Sasuke received the gift, they'd had sex again––the gratuitous and indulgent kind that left the muscles aching after––but he hadn't put on the necklace. Not even after they'd showered and finally eaten. He hadn't put it on after they pulled their shoes on, hanging their masks inside of their jackets. He did not leave with it on.
Instead, he pocketed it, thanking her. His tone was kind and gracious, appreciative, even. But he didn't know what to make of the gift or of their relationship, and Sakura evidently did not know what to make of his blase response.
And perhaps, also their relationship.
"Ramen Shack is fine," he assured her distractedly. "I'll meet you there. I need to pick up a new hoister and some clips."
This much was true: he wanted a holster that fit tighter around his chest––but there was something else he wanted to do before that.
-:-
"Nuh-uh." Tenten chastised as she took in Hinata's downcast facial expression. "We don't have time for that today."
They were in the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner; busy seasoning, baking, frying, and tossing various foods around. The whole kitchen smelled like rosemary, lemon, garlic, and butter, but the tantalizing smells were not enough to distract Hinata from her own forlorn thoughts. Christmas was just about her least favorite holiday.
It did not help that her birthday fell two days later. She thought grumpily about turning 21 and how instead of resting like she wanted, her father had given her a job to do.
"Sorry," she grumbled as she pulled her fist out of the inside of a whole chicken. She began to fill the hole with stuffing. Beside her, Hanabi was slicing onions, her lips twisted and just as sour.
"Don't be sorry," Hanabi countered as she pressed the knife down so hard it made a sound. Hinata winced, poor knife. Then she picked it up and pointed it at Tenten saying, "You don't understand what it's like."
Tenten raised both eyebrows, her hands gravitating to her hips as she swiveled, "I don't understand? Me? The resident orphan of the Syndicate?"
"Hey now, I think there's room for multiple resident orphans, don't ya think?"
Their heads swiveled to see Shenji standing in the doorway, a smile fixed on his face. He was assigned a post at the Estate for Christmas, which typically meant that he'd be doing nothing at all. Those who were closest, or directly under Hiashi merely waited around for orders, acted as security, and had the luxury of eating good food.
Shenji had that great luxury today: joining them for Christmas dinner. Traditionally, Hinata, Hanabi, and Tenten rolled up their sleeves to create something delicious, covering their meals with garnish, butter, and savory ingredients. It started as a small thing between Hinata and Hanabi that they quickly folded Tenten into, once they learned that she liked to cook and usually spent holidays alone.
Holidays had been Aoki's thing. It was the only thing she commanded over their father––often forcing him to have off days to spend with his children. She'd decorate the halls with string lights and garland, and spent hours picking the perfect batch of Christmas trees to distribute throughout the Estate. She'd sequester help from Hinata and Hanabi, asking them their opinions on ornaments and their placements, color schemes, and lighting arrangements.
"Only if you help cook," Tenten chided, rolling her eyes. "These two are being fucking depressing like they're the only people here with dead moms."
If possible, Hinata's face soured more and Hanabi's knife came upon the cutting board as if she were trying to slice it in half. But then Hinata remembered her task and felt her frown slide off of her face with ease. When she smiled, it was with pointed hesitancy, "Y-you're welcome to join...if you want."
"Sure," Shenji said enthusiastically. He dropped his bag on the floor, washed his hand, and stood in front of Hinata like an excited puppy. He was pretty cute, after all. Just like Hanabi had said last week, both men were attractive in their own right.
Shenji had an open face and eyes that mimicked the sky on its best day. Sasuke was a much more gothic handsome, his shoulders proud and stiff, his eyes dark and enduring, the bridge of his long straight nose. His face was angular, and he tilted his head ever so slightly when he spoke to her. He was a heart-stopping alternative to Shenji, who was readily tying an apron around his waist.
He stood in front of Hinata, a smile gracing his features, "what do you want me to do, boss?"
Her cheeks went red. She directed him to an additional chopping board and they stood side-by-side as he smashed garlic with the side of a knife. Every once in a while, his arm brushed hers and he looked down at her, smiling apologetically.
"He has Golden Retriever energy," Ino had told her last week after she'd seen Hinata and him talking after his initiation. Suggestively, she said, "He could be good for you."
"Y-you know I'm not looking," Hinata replied, red-faced. They stood together in the bathroom. This was after Hinata's charged conversation with Sasuke. When he walked away from her, she seemed to deflate in her chair––all the air leaving her body as if she'd been holding it the whole time, and had just popped.
If Ino had seen her speaking to Sasuke, Hinata wondered what Ino would say. Instead, Ino rolled her eyes. She brushed her lipstick across her mouth, smacking her lips together a couple of times before saying, "You're going to be 21 next week. You're going to have to get over what happened with Gaara someday."
Ino was one of the few people who knew, and still, Hinata had not told her about him approaching her at the Affair. Hinata wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, shaking her head. "Of c-course I will," she agreed. She was anxious but she kept her tone stern, "b-but Ino...I have...I have to do it on my own time. "
"Yeaaaah," Ino agreed, nodding her head facetiously, "and why not rebound? It doesn't have to be a serious relationship or anything." She tossed her hair, some of it hitting Hinata in the face. "I mean, you had the guy trailing after you all night. Everyone noticed!"
"I'll t-think about it," Hinata conceded. Once again, she was saying anything to diffuse the conversation.
Her long conversation with Shenji (over many drinks) had been overly casual; getting to know him, where he came from and where he planned to go. His responses had been normal. When asked where he came from, he said West Konoha (poor). When asked where he wanted to be he said East Konoha (wealthy). When asked about his education he said he barely had any. When asked about what he did before this he said, strangely, weed cultivation.
Hinata said, "t-that's oddly specific.."
He shrugged, "I really like weed. I got an opportunity to work on a farm out in the country last year, so I took it."
Hinata asked, "U-Uchiha, too?"
Shenji shook his head, "Nah, I think he was doing other shit." Vague. "The farm I worked at got shut down, so I came back to Konoha and crashed on his couch. One thing led to another, and now we're here."
"A-and by 'one thing leading'...y-you mean the Akatsuki tip?"
"I guess," Shenji scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I mean, we just needed money. You've never been poor before, have you?"
She changed the subject.
Now Shenji was making casual banter, riddling her cheeks bright pink as he made fun of his own cutting skills, talking about how he couldn't season a dish well if his life was on the line. Spices were an enigma to him, and herbs were entire constellations of confusion.
"Here you go," he said when he finished with his garlic. Hinata instructed him to cover the chicken with it so that the meat would suck in its flavor. He leaned over as he placed each handful, his tongue sticking out in concentration.
He is definitely cute, Hinata decided as she watched him, her eyes keen on the earnest look on his face. When she thought of Shenji, she thought of Sasuke too for whatever reason, and how his heavy gaze routinely disarmed her.
Though Shenji made her feel safe in some ways, she still did not trust him and could not break through his shining exterior. But when she looked at Sasuke, and a cold warning shot through her belly, she knew––like she knew the back of her hand––that all of their interactions were real.
When she spoke to Shenji, there was nothing there. No passion, no proclivities, no motivations. But when she spoke to Sasuke, the room filled with tepid heat as if he were made of a fog that was meant to obscure.
Perhaps her father had her studying the wrong man, after all.
-:-
"Hey," Sakura sounded relieved after Sasuke entered her apartment well after midnight. She stood abruptly from her desk, her eyes heavy with tired, her hair sticking out in multiple directions as if she had been forcing herself awake. "What happened to you? I was waiting at Ramen Shack for like, an hour."
She sounded angry, which was fair. Sasuke had all but ditched her––getting lost in his work within the labs and equipment rooms for so long that time had slipped away from him completely.
"Yeah, sorry," Sasuke said quietly as he shrugged off his boots and jacket and placed them into a corner that he frequently claimed. "I was going to leave, but Ox asked me to draw a blueprint sketch of the Hyuga Estate and the Foreign Car Garage."
He was lying, but he did sketch the blueprints for alibi and filed them away for later use.
"That took you five hours?" Sakura's eyebrows rose into her hairline.
Sasuke just looked at her with a long, impatient look that said are you my keeper now? The blurring lines of their relationship had her asking questions that, months ago, would not have come from her mouth. They were teammates second, agents first. And agents mostly liked to work alone.
She was undeterred, "Don't look at me like that. I mean––we had plans!"
"Plans change," Sasuke said, his voice low and edging on annoyance. A headache was blooming over his temporal lobe. In the lab, he slid the yen under a telescope, watching as scratch marks slowly appeared under the lens. He recorded the markings in his journal superstitiously, as if possessed by the action.
Luckily, he'd chosen an empty lab. A quiet spot with no windows and no people. He looked and looked and looked. He checked and double-checked the bill. He rubbed it in his hands. He looked down at his notebook and back at the bill, making sure that every single marking matched up.
He wasn't making it up. These were Uchiha scratches.
He broke into a sweat, trying to think himself into remembrance. What did a sideways slash denote? What about the character that looked like an upside-down cross? What of the circle, the wide-open u shape, the left-angled dash?
He thought briefly that he'd have a stroke trying to translate this message. As his memory deepened, his emotions tsunamied. He thought of his mother's touch on the back of his head, his father's stern voice as he gave instruction, leaning over Sasuke as he pointed to a mistake here or there. He thought of his brother who smiled as he watched his learning, saying "You'll be the best of us yet, little brother."
So no, it wasn't possible for Sasuke to meet Sakura for dinner. It didn't matter to him that it was Christmas––he'd just unlocked one of the most important and secretive joys of his life. As he translated, it was like a mother tongue had been returned to him and the loss of it––the loss of his parents and his brother––left a heavy feeling settling in the pits of his stomach.
He translated the message as his head pounded, his synapses firing rapidly with memory, plans, and...hope.
It took him three hours to piece together the code. When he wrote it down in his journal, he nodded quietly to himself, tore the page into tiny pieces, and burned it on the steel table. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his hands were shaking. He had never felt so out of control of his body in his entire lifetime.
He left the lab in a daze. He went to the gym. He worked out for three hours without stopping, his mind racing.
Sakura was tapping her foot with agitation in front of him, though her dominating expression was hurt. Her mouth trembled. Her stance was unsure as she looked at him.
Then the moment passed: her expression fell away from her face, masking into one of professionalism. When Sasuke had ditched her, the lines that they had slowly started to erase with time and loneliness redrew themselves. There was a boundary, and it was back in the place where it belonged.
"You're right," Sakura agreed, her tone neutral. She allowed a tight expression, but that was all. "I shouldn't have assumed and I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize," Sasuke said professionally. He, too, wore a tight expression when they looked at each other. He went to gather his things, his movements sharp and unapologetic as he grabbed his bag and slung it across his shoulders. "I should've been more straightforward."
"You were clear enough today. That's all that is necessary."
Sasuke nodded, grateful that Sakura was skilled enough to say two things at once. He put on his shoes quickly and quietly. When his hand wrapped around the doorknob, Sakura surprised him:
She let him go. She said nothing as she shut the door behind her with a solid, confident, click.
Sasuke drove back to Konoha in silence. When he drove, he did not think of what had just ended between him and Sakura. He did not think of his Holiday with ANBU at all. He simply repeated numbers in his head in a long stream, barely taking his eyes off the road or allowing any distracting thoughts. He had successfully uncoded the scratches, and he was left with a series of numbers.
21.89328, -35.03072: 01.02 12:00
Coordinates. In a few of short days, Sasuke would reunite with his brother. And no one could know about it.
an. im back! friday new update day? we'll try it out.
