A Cabin by the Lake

Perhaps it was my mistake for not inquiring when the Uchiha-Wife Crash Course would take place that I shouldn't be too taken aback. However, I had at least assumed Itachi had the human decency to allow to process the fact that I had over my first marriage and the next three years of my youth. That was my first mistake.

I gave Itachi an incredulous look as he headed towards the door with the expectation that I would follow suit on his order. Arguably, yes, I had agreed to abide to his training, but no where in the contract did I remember agreeing to being ordered around like a dog where I was expected to yield to him so willingly.

"Well, aren't you eager to groom me?" I teased, and he slowly turned to see me still seated in my chair. If I had thought it would affect his answer, which at the time I clearly didn't, I may have tried to look angry or disapproving instead of just looking smug with myself for the way he almost rolled his eyes at me.

"Oh contraire, Sakura-san. I was eager two years ago."

I made a face. Not because what he said was completely creepy and alarming, but because I knew he used "oh contraire" wrong. In all seriousness, it was unsettling that I was somehow being groomed without realizing it. Having not had any contact with the Uchiha family aside from Sasuke the last three years, I couldn't imagine how Itachi had succeeded in grooming me for the last two years without it being detected.

This wasn't my proudest moment. Call it a moment, lasting two years long, of weakness.

"I'm sorry?" Itachi succeeded in getting me out of my seat, and I shot Sasuke a look that he made an effort avoid. Not that it made him look any less suspicious, but was that guilt I saw on his face? My jaw clenched as the pieces started coming together in my mind, and indeed that right from under my nose, I had been falling into Itachi's plan without realizing it, no thanks to Sasuke. How he got Naruto to follow along with his plan was another question altogether, and I wouldn't be wrong to assume that both Naruto and I had just been duped by the Uchiha brothers. "You don't mean—"

"Longer hair really does suit you better."

The indignation in me started to rise and the patience I had been careful to maintain was close to non-existent at this point. I knew I was more upset with myself for letting Sasuke use my own curiosity against me, but lucky for all I believed sharing was caring, and I very much cared enough that had some anger to spare at Itachi for encouraging his brother to manipulate me. Even if it was just with my hair.

"Listen here, Uchiha." I huffed, crossing my arms and all but glaring a hole into his smug little face. "I did not grow my hair for you, and if I decided to cut it I—"

"Would be violating a condition of the contract." The older bastard finished, stuffing his hands in his pockets while raising his chin and giving me this authoritative stare as well as an easy opening for me to uppercut his jaw to the moon. "You agreed to dress and style your hair to my liking; I like your hair long and you will keep it that way unless I prefer otherwise."

At this point, my jaw just went slack and I had this overwhelming urge to take two chairs and chuck one at Sasuke, the other at Muscles, and then take the twenty foot long dining room table and use it as a bat to smack the fucking Uchiha through the wall and off my property. However, he did have a point—maybe—he just didn't need to be an ass about it.

"Where are we going?" Deciding that it was better than to argue against a very valid and legal point, I took the black rain jacket Shizune held out for me, and wrapped myself up before we headed out into the downpour.

Itachi glanced back as he walked out the door, and I could only assume he was contemplating on whether or not to tell me before he concluded with a "you will know once we get there," which was Uchiha talk for "shut up and just get in the car already."

In the two minutes since I agreed to his proposal, I was already having my doubts—not that I wasn't already wary of anything concerning this family to begin with. It wasn't that I thought I couldn't handle all this bastardness for the next three years because I think my relationship with Sasuke was useful for at least this much, it was just that the more I got to know—or not know—about what was going on, the more I began to think he was just trying to elaborately kidnap me on Mikoto's behalf. Again, I still wasn't a hundred percent sure if Mr. Muscles was a hitman or a bodyguard. The only thing that somewhat assured me of my safety, though I would never even admit it to his grave, was Sasuke. Knowing him and Naruto, they would pull some illegal stunts that would make their mamas cry before they let anything happen to me, and I couldn't say those feelings weren't mutual.

But as an extra precaution to my person's safety, as in I had a convenient way of tucking and rolling out of a moving vehicle, I called "shot gun" and made a beeline to Sasuke's passenger seat.

"I can't believe you conspired against me with your brother." I hissed once I got inside, watching in my side mirror as Muscles opened the door for the Uchiha who apparently couldn't make use of his hands for mundane things like opening his own car door.

"He didn't want to say anything until the time was right." Sasuke tried lamely, surprisingly reaching over to strap my seatbelt before leaning back to pull on his. It became clear that it was out of his brother's interest to not lose his one-way ticket to fortune, as I saw him glance up in his rear-view mirror, that Sasuke developed a sudden concern for my safety.

Was I all that hurt that Sasuke didn't care about my safety in a moving vehicle? Not really. He knew hell would freeze over before I let myself die from his horrendous driving. It surprised me even less that he was trying to impress—was that even the right word to describe his poor concern for my safety—his brother.

The poor kid never got over his big brother complex. It was evident in the way he was always slightly tense around Itachi, watching him intently as to prepare to prove himself or protect his older brother.

Take his car for example: no doubt that all the heir had to do was just tell Sasuke he wanted to drive his car and Sasuke would already be reaching for his keys while, no matter how much Naruto or I begged him, we always end up in Naruto's beaten up pick-up truck that was so rusted I couldn't tell you what colour it was originally. Maybe it was red? Orange? Brown? Maybe it was actually none of those colours at all. I seriously couldn't tell you.

"And all this makes the time right?" I flipped my hair over my shoulder to emphasize the "this" I was talking about. Not that I really hated how long hair looked on me, it just simply wasn't conventional for me to have something that could easily get it the way. Not waiting for Sasuke to lamely stumble over his words just to give me some poor excuse, I reeled around in my seat and I gave Itachi a pointed look. "You waited two years just so my hair could grow longer? That seems like a waste of time for something so shallow, don't you think?"

It was more of an honest question than an accusation. Two years was a lot of time to waste, especially seeing that perhaps this title could've gone to him by now had he acted earlier. Not that I wanted this to happen before, or at all.

When the door finally shut and Muscles made himself comfortable, Sasuke kicked the gear into drive and began my decent into the fiery pits of hell. If it was one thing I disliked the most about conversing with Uchiha-men—though I can't speak for the women with what little interactions I had with anyone aside from Mikoto who was always pleasant to my face—it was the way they paused to think without the usual indication that they were doing just that. The normal "well," "um's," and "ah's" was severely lacking from their vocabulary. Though it made them efficient and respectable speakers, it made casual conversations with them painful.

Thank Heaven for small mercy that I've been graced—if you can say that—with a friend like Sasuke, and he's done it enough times that I knew Itachi was forming his words. So I sat patiently in the front seat, only speaking to the guards at the gate to tell him that if anyone asks for me to tell them I wasn't home and it was none of their business where I went.

"With how things have transpired for you the previous years, two years ago would not have been a favourable time to engage in this agreement." Itachi began, referring to scandals, or should I say one huge scandal, that I got myself caught up in. "As for your hair: you've kept it short throughout your adolescent years and during that incident. Your longer hair would help convince the public of your change of character, disassociate you from your past-doings, and symbolize growth—even if it is shallow."

He had multiple points that I reluctantly agreed with. While people cut their hairs to symbolize change, I ironically had to grow mine out. That on its own wasn't suddenly going to change the way people in Konoha thought about me, but like I said, Itachi had a point that looking different than I did during my more unfavourable days was a good place to start.

The incident, as he so eloquently put it, was an event that many—obviously including myself—don't speak about. While whispers and hush voices served as a reminder of the time, it was rare that anyone felt comfortable enough to bring the topic up in conversation. Even Itachi, who remained unaffected throughout the ordeal, had qualms about speaking about it more than just referring to it by that title.

It was unnecessary. It made things awkward. There was nothing to gain by bringing it up again.

"Fair," I hummed, turning back in my seat and sparing Sasuke a look that said that I forgave him a little for his misgivings. Just a little though. Regardless of how much thought his brother put into this, I was still the one left in the dark about the entire planning process when Sasuke had many chances to let me on to what they were planning. Not saying that I would have been on board, but at least I would felt a little less betrayed. Furthermore… "But you still haven't told me why all of this is necessary. Why do you need a wife?"

And a fake one, at that?

As Sasuke drove down the dirt road into the sparse forest which led to the freeway, I had assumed he would drive us into the city when he made a turn in the opposite direction. A part of me wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, but remembering how Itachi flatly refused to tell me where we were headed, I just sat back and allowed these men to drive me to an unknown location. The farthest we could get driving in that direction was the ocean—which was only a day's drive away. So, unless there was some underground base where they kept poor, unsuspecting girls in the forests leading up to the edge of the country, I knew they weren't taking me anywhere far.

"In order to inherit the company, my father's advisors and councilmen have decided that their chairman should marry before receiving that title."

In all my silent panic about where we were going, I just about jumped out the window at the sound of Itachi's voice.

"I've gathered that." I had already pieced together that it had something to do with inheriting the company, taking into consideration he planned to divorce me after he inherited it. "But why not find a nice girl that you really like instead of orchestrating something like this?"

What was the rush? I mean, weren't chairmen usually kind of old anyways? Itachi could at least wait until he was in his 30s to inherit this company.

I looked at Sasuke for some kind of indication before staring back ahead at the dampen road when I saw he had a hard look in on his face.

"You and Sasuke have been friends since you were in infants, meaning we have seen enough of each other that a romantic relationship between us would seem natural." Itachi had a way of dragging conversations on for longer than necessary, instead of addressing things directly, it seemed. I had been grateful, then, that I hadn't engaged much with him until then because the patience that I did not have prior would've strained our "relationship" substantially. "And we simply don't…have the luxury of time to allow for a relationship to naturally blossom."

I had turned to give him both a look of question and concern when I heard Sasuke's turn signal tick. It had to be a mistake because all we had around us were trees, when he suddenly—well, I guess not actually suddenly—did as the ticker indicated he would.

The car rocked over the uneven dirt roads leading deep into the forest, and surprisingly, i was able to hear Itachi over the sound of Sasuke's car and him growling under his breath as we made our deeper into the dark. "You're aware my father's sick, Sakura."

In other words, he was dying.

I couldn't help but to glance over at Sasuke and think back to how Itachi said this shouldn't take more than three years. Obviously, he wouldn't hope to divorce me until after the company was inherited and his father had passed, which only means Fugaku time was coming way, way sooner than anyone had originally expected.

Scratching the back of my neck in guilt, I understood why Itachi waited until he made certain of my cooperation before revealing the reason behind his request. Not only would it have been the scandal of the century if I had said "no" and known that to inherit the company to be his reason—and subsequently blabbed to the media about it—but now I was having way more doubts about getting involved with a family around the time that they were expecting a loss of a family member. Sure, Sasuke and I were best friends and I would be expected to support, comfort, and attend the funeral when it came up, but being involved in this way, as a daughter-in-law, was much too personal.

Maybe this should've fallen under the category of "mind your own business" because I felt like I was intruding. In a way, he was also saying that he trusted me with something I wasn't at all comfortable with being trusted with. Not that it mattered, to be honest, I was stuck in this whether in liked it or not now.

I guess I was frowning a shit ton since, in the process of steering the car down the path that barely had any room for his car, Sasuke reached over and placed a hand on my knee, giving it a playful shove that knocked me on my side. It should've gotten me to bounce back and punch him in the arm, but all I did was grumble at the fact that my best friend was a douche bag and his father was dying—and he was a douche bag for not telling me his father was dying.

When we pulled up the cabin, all I could think about was how much it really did look like something out of a horror movie. These three men brought me into the middle of the woods, where there was a cabin in front of a cold lake, which was surrounded by fog. I mean, if that didn't scream "I'm going to kill you, decapitate your body—maybe drown you somewhere in the process—and scatter your remains," I didn't know what did.

Itachi really couldn't tell me he was taking me to his friends' cabin? He had to be all secretive for the suspense of it all?

I was so lost in my imagination at the time that I hadn't realized everyone got out until all the doors around me slammed shut and my whole body tensed. It was only when Muscles reached for the door did I get myself together and opened it myself. There was no way I was about to let myself be pampered like a certain Uchiha who could take over a company, but couldn't even open his own damn car door.

Hesitantly, I let my feet touch the ground, as if the whole floor would collapsed from right underneath my feet—magically sparing the man who stood a mere metre away from me—and I'd fall right into an underground dungeon where they would do unholy things to little me.

There was a tiny chance that I was being over-dramatic, again, but I'm was sure that any girl in my position would've reacted the same way. Okay, maybe scratch that. Any girl in my position would swoon at the idea of being in a car with the two Uchiha brothers and a big, muscular man. But I've seen enough crazy things in my lifetime to know that this wasn't an entirely outlandish thing to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up the front wooden porch, uncharacteristically sticking closer to Sasuke as Itachi opened the door. I didn't miss the way he glanced at me with slight annoyance for, no doubt, the hesitation and reluctance I had. Not like he just told me his father was dying and he brought me into the middle of the woods like he wanted to dispose of me.

Sasuke began nudging me forward when I guess I didn't move forward quickly enough to the door Itachi had just opened. I braced myself for whatever laid beyond—torture machines, blood, dead bodes—and was surprised to see myself in a cozy looking cabin, only to be surrounded by men.

I started to wonder exactly then what "training" really involved. Suspicious, and maybe a little excited if I had to be completely honest. I could hold my own against a group of men, but in the way that this was suggesting, I had left unexplored.

"Eh? Is that Sakura, yeah?" The blond one exclaimed from the other side of the kitchen island, his hands dropping the rag and plate as he leaned over and stared at me wide eyed. "You were this small the last time I saw you!"

He held his hand to his chest, just below his armpit, demonstrating the height I may have been when I was, say, thirteen?

You know when you're reunited with relatives you haven't seen since you were in diapers and, therefore, have no recollection of who in the hell they were so you end of standing there like an awkward little turtle while they ramble on about how much you've grown and hope that they mention something familiar? That was one of those moments. And while that measurement he gave told me that I had met him more recently than when I was in diapers, I still had no recollection of who he was.

I made no effort to hide my confusion, and I rose my eyebrow and looked from Itachi, Sasuke, and back at the stranger who was too excited to see me for someone I had no memory of.

"I'm sorry. We've met?" I asked, inclining my head for an answer.

He chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as he grinned. "Briefly. 6 years ago, yeah."

That was a long time ago.

"That must've been one hell of a brief meeting that if you remember me so fondly." I stifled the chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest.

"The pink hair helps jog the memory." He gestured to his own hair, and, in the process, self-consciously making me reach up to touch mine. "And who could forget a girl who told me to 'catch' before she threw her friend off his balcony, then came outside and dragged his body away by the collar."

Well, I guess Naruto and I had much worse ways for sneaking/kidnapping Sasuke's grounded ass from his own home but that definitely sounded like something I had done. However, I still had no idea who this guy was, save for the boy who I threw Sasuke onto when I was fifteen years old because he got caught doing something stupid with Naruto. So, to save myself the awkwardness of his name, I just smiled like I remembered and nudge Sasuke in the ribs at the fond memory we both had trouble remembering.

"Ah, so you've told her, Itachi." The redhead to my left asked. He sat comfortably at the dining room bench, sipping on the contents of his cup as he regarded me carefully over his newspaper.

I turn to see Itachi give him a curt nod, hands in his pockets, as he leaned against nothing like the Sasuke did. Ah, so that was the origin of Sasuke's annoying stance of disinterest.

The boy who I threw Sasuke onto—which I continued to reference him as until I learned his name later on—looked frantically between Itachi, the redhead, and I. His blue eyes widen in what I thought was shock before he hunched over and laughed into the marble island top.

"That's who we're turning into your window display wife?" I found my face contorting into disgust at the term. "Her?"

Tilting his head up enough to let his eyes peak over his arm, I saw them crinkle in amusement, but also caught a glimpse of mischievousness that I didn't like, but would've liked had it not been directed at me. I felt the heat rise up my neck like I was the butt of some joke being passed around, being the last to find out.

"Sasuke, you're free to go."

At Itachi's dismissal, I looked at my best friend almost desperately, my eyes silently begging him not to leave me there to die, and for once in his life, he actually understood what I wanted because he returned my look of horror. But as he opened his mouth to protest against his brother, he snapped it shut and his eyes narrowed in what soon became a glaring contest with Itachi. With that, I knew all hope was lost because the bastard already had a hard time winning against Naruto for crying out loud, there was no way he could win against the most-bastard of them all.

So, when he sighed in defeat and told me to call him when I was ready to leave, I couldn't say I wasn't at all surprised by the loss. I had a list of possible exits already planned in my head, and items that would suffice as weapons if I needed to defend myself, but I would have preferred to have kept Sasuke around as a buffer between my safety and Itachi.

"Sakura-san," Itachi called, pulling a chair out from the head of the table and setting it against the window. "Have a seat."

Finally pulling myself from the screen door, I eyed him untrustingly, but I did as I was asked.

The cold seeped through the glass and into the small corner of the room, but with all the adrenaline pumping through me, my body felt warm, nearly hot, as I looked up at the men who stood around me. The boy who I threw Sasuke onto rushed around on the other side of the island to clean up the plates, and I assumed it was out of excitement so he could quickly come join Itachi and the redhead in staring down at me with disinterest.

I cocked an eyebrow as I looked up, ready for some answers or at least some sort of instruction as to what they wanted me to do and how they wanted me to do it. I mean, it couldn't be that hard to be prissy and prim like an Uchiha. You just had to walk like a puffed rooster, talk like everyone owed you something, and wear this face of indifference and superiority all the time. I could do that. Hell, Naruto and I had been doing that for years when we felt like pulling on a "Sasuke" and laughing about him behind his back.

"I see you've convinced her to grow her hair out." The redhead said, and my jaw slacked as I half-smirked, half snorted. "It'll be easier to work with now."

I watched as the redhead disappeared up the stairway and glanced over to see Muscles laying on the sofa in front of the fireplace. It brought upon questions in my head, such as where the hell was I and what in hell's name was going on here, but I sat quietly to observe and hope the answer would come to me in time.

The answers came no later than two seconds afterward in the form of Itachi as he made himself comfortable on the furthest side of the table to carefully watch the scene play out.

"That man was Sasori," He said, using his chin to gesture to the stairwell where said Sasori disappeared while keeping an intense, watchful eye on me. "He will be your stylists."

Things were beginning to look like something out of "The Princess Diaries" and I nearly cringed at the idea of plucking eyebrows and waxing my entire body. The one positive thing about this whole idea was, if Sasori did his job right, I would come out looking like a million dollars, find myself a rich husband who actually loved me, and I wouldn't need Itachi's dirty 20 grand a month. This could really be my one way ticket to freedom and it all rested in the hands of the redhead and how skilled his was with scissors.

A girl could dream, couldn't she? Though mama would probably lose her shit if she found out I allowed myself to be in the position of depending on a man to take care of me. She worked way too hard, yelled too ferociously, and instilled too much self-respect to let her daughter grow up like that. But you know what they say: work smarter, not harder. I could still be a self-respecting woman, even if I was rolling around in my husband's money.

"This one is Deidara," The blond boy sat down on the bench in front of me and smiled. "He's going to be your…bodyguard."

Supervisor. He meant supervisor. He was going to be following me and making sure I was keeping myself out of trouble, for the sole reason that I didn't tarnish the Uchiha name when Itachi wasn't looking. My eyebrows furrowed at the idea of a person following me around all day, and my lips twitched into an arrogant smirk.

"I don't need a bodyguard." I stated indefinitely, crossing my arms over my chest, unwilling to negotiate. This wasn't mentioned anyway in our contract, and had I known my answer would've been different. And they knew that.

"Oh, trust me. With all the people who are going to be swarming you, you will, yeah." Deidara said it hopefully, his face lighting up with amusement as he looked me straight in the eyes.

He must've thought his enthusiasm would be contagious, and maybe it would've been if I hadn't been friends with Naruto for long and became immune to this sort of persuasion. But my smirk dropped, my eyes narrowed, and I flipped my slightly dampen hair I took out of my braid to the other side of my head—just for dramatic effect—before growling "I can handle myself just fine."

My explanation and argument shouldn't have been unnecessary, considering the fact that Itachi had taken his bodyguard and Sasuke when he came over to see me. That alone spoke for how capable I was in protecting myself; a grown man had to take two other grown-ass men to come talk to little me. My reputation should have had been explanation enough, and it was foolish to suggest otherwise.

Of course, they didn't need to know that I knew what they meant by bodyguard to begin with.

"Haruno, you agreed to this."

But yet, Itachi was insistent that I took Deidara on as my bodyguard, which I didn't understand. It wasn't out of pride or the much known fact that Haruno Sakura could handle herself that put-off the idea of having a man guard me 24/7, but the fact that there was a strange man around me 24/7. The paparazzi alone was bad enough with the snapping pictures of me here and there, and writing up half-truths and full lies because of their misinterpretations of what was really happening, but a bodyguard was in a different level of being all up in my grill that I did not appreciate. A supervisor in disguise would be much worse.

"No. I agreed to be your 'window-display wife' and to looking and acting like one to help you inherit your family's company." I bit out, turning my glare from Deidara to Itachi. "Not have a strange man follow me around all day, Uchiha. What happened to our agreement on privacy?"

Sasuke may not be able to win a glare-off with Itachi, but I can. In the midst of glaring into each other's souls, Muscles had risen from his nap to observe the safety of his client, and Sasori had returned with multiple pairs of scissors and styling tools.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the way Sasori cautiously set down his tools as to not disrupt the atmosphere and Deidara glances up at him in amusement. One small encounter with Deidara and he knew I was capable of fending off paparazzi and bad-guys who could attempt to kidnap me for ransom, and Itachi had how many? Clearly, it should've been him that I punched in the face at Sasuke's birthday party, maybe then he would agree that any man who crossed my path would face a hotter hell than anything any bodyguard could attempt to give him. With that, he would run out of options as to what position to give Deidara, and I hoped that would mean he wouldn't be used altogether to spy on me.

"Very well," He conceded. "He'll be guarding you from 8AM until 9PM, and any time I request you to appear with me in public."

I played out the timing in my head, trying to rearrange my life around the 13 hours of watchfulness, not overlooking the fact that everything was just about closed around 9PM so that I would not be out and about otherwise. I also had various means of sneaking away from Deidara, many of which I developed over years of sneaking out of the house from mama and Shizune. And when facing the fact that Deidara was not a mother, or a women, and didn't have that very scary sixth sense that even I have when it came to Naruto or Sasuke, sneaking away from him when I needed to would be twenty-thousand times easier.

Also, if he was my bodyguard and was working for me, dismissal of service would most-likely be at my disposal unless Itachi instructed otherwise. Which I knew he wouldn't for the first little while unless my behaviour, for whatever god forsaken reason, got out of hand and I blew my cover of sending Deidara way early.

"Also, I won't be following you around until you're properly trained anyway, yeah. So you have lots of time to hide all your dirty secrets." My soon to be bodyguard said playfully, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that made me roll my eyes. "And I'm also not obligated to tell the Uchiha anything you do, so any secret you have is safe with me, yeah."

I kept myself from raising an eyebrow at the title which he used to refer to Itachi, and the only thing that ran through my mind at the time was he then seemed bearable. Unlike Muscles or Sasori who seemed to be more than willing to abide by Itachi's commands, Deidara had a sort of backbone and carefree personality to him that distinguished him on Itachi's payroll.

"Fine, I guess I can live with that." I sighed, devising a plan to make this training last at least a year so I can keep as much quality time to myself as possible.

Deidara shot me a wicked grin that only deepened Itachi's glare—towards me or Deidara, I didn't really know—and nodded in satisfaction.

It clicked with me then that Itachi and Deidara were an older, more bastard-like version of Sasuke and Naruto and for a second, a very small second, I thought to myself that I might enjoy their company.

And by company, I meant rivalry.

I watched Sasori carefully as he pulled out three different pairs of scissors and a comb. There was something menacing about him that I couldn't quite place my finger on, but I made a note to make sure I was ready to snap his wrist in half the second I felt his sheers cutting too close to the skin of my neck. I wasn't taking any chances that this wasn't an attempted murder in disguise. I still had Mama Uchiha to worry about until further notice.

"Can I start?" Sasori tested his scissors for emphasis before nudging the blond at least another meter away from me, and I shit you not, I saw calculations flash before his eyes as he studied my hair.

"Depends." I grunted, pilling all my hair to the back and untucking the stands stuck between me and the back of the chair. "Are you going to finally cut this damn thing off?"

He paused momentarily, scissors in hand as he looked from me and Itachi in confusion. "That's not what we agreed on, was it?"

"No, Sasori." The Uchiha sighed, resting his face in the palm of his hand like he's had so hard up until this point. "Just a trim and add layers into her hair—whatever way makes it easy for you to style it in the future."

He nodded before ushering me and chair forward. I had been a little surprised that he hadn't made any mentions at the colour of my hair, seeing that most hairstylists do when they first begin to cut my strangely-coloured hair. But guessing that he's been friends with Deidara, there was a chance that I may have briefly met him 6 years ago as well—not that I would remember him either.

At that age, no one really gave a fuck about who anyone was unless you were a part the squad. So, unless your name was Sasuke, Naruto, Ino, Neji, anyone from my friend and former friend group, I didn't do so much as glance in your direction and had we crossed paths before, my self-centered ass really couldn't tell you now.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance as Sasori did begin trimming the ends of my hair. I spent too much time dealing with the annoyance of tangled hair that got in and caught on everything, just to find out it was because it was what the older Uchiha wanted.

I debated on moving around and making Sasori mess up just so he had to cut everything off to fix the mistake, but from the way Itachi was watching every strand of my hair fall to the floor, I didn't think I could do it discretely enough without being accused of violating our contract. Our eyes met for a second as I watched him watch me, before I flickered it to Deidara who watched with the same interest as the man on the couch.

Was this really my job now? I had to wonder to myself, realizing as I sat in the warm cabin, listening to the sound of scissors and the crackling of the fireplace, that I was expected to show up here every day to learn. I had been a little too dramatic and unwilling for someone who would practically be paid for being pampered, and although I didn't like my future husband, I needed the money he was too willing to give.

I nearly snorted at the thought. He knew I needed his money. Maybe that's why I had been so reluctant to accept. While he needed me in order to get what he wanted, I felt it in my heart that like everyone else, I was being looked down upon. I wasn't nearly as indispensable as the money in his bank account. While Itachi could go off and find another girl who would be more than willing to do his bidding, I wasn't going to find another man—no, employer—who was going to offer the same wages.

With that, I smiled contently as I watched bits of my hair fall to floor. I had to be good.

Updated: 01-02-2020

All comments and criticism are widely accepted and appreciated.