"Your father won't be home for another half hour or so," Mikoto begins, gingerly setting two ceramic cups in front of them. She takes her place at the table across from Itachi, the same places they've occupied for the past thirty years. She looks at her son, and in her heart knows that what he has to tell them is going to change things irrevocably. He is looking at her with an openness she hasn't seen from him in decades. It reminds her, bitterly, of when, in this kitchen, she would bandage his scrapes and he would look at her with all the trust and adoration in the world. Before ANBU and the clan had trained such openness out of him.
In the past few years she's seen some of it return. He has a dry, almost sarcastic sense of humor that she has started to see glimpses of. His smiles aren't quite as wide as they were as a child, much less toothy, to be sure, but they've returned.
Itachi's pondering isn't quite as pleasant. He moved out at 24 years old, against family tradition, because that house held too many memories for him. Things that were, or almost were, or that he worries still might be. He has nightmares about it sometimes. He pictures himself standing behind his mother and father, a katana in his hand, sobbing. He doesn't get that one as much anymore, but some nights it creeps up on him. Less so since he started sharing a bed with Sakura. They both get nightmares. It's rare to find a shinobi who doesn't. Neither are surprised when the other jolts awake in the dead of night. They don't have to explain. This is one thing he'll probably never share with her.
They sit that way for a long moment, both wrapped up in the memories of that kitchen, that house.
"Sakura and I are getting married," he finally tells her softly. He wants to tell her now, while they can celebrate that fact together, before his father comes in. Once his father's there, once this becomes a clan discussion, it won't be a celebration.
"Oh, Itachi," she answers back, eyes shining, "I'm so glad."
She pulls him to her, and he lets himself enjoy the embrace. Her son, her child, is getting married. It's one of the first times in recent memory that he's hugged her back with earnest.
She can admit, now, to a certain amount of guilt. Perhaps more than a certain amount. She had never wanted to send her first-born child off to war, had never wanted to expose him to the horrors and the violence of their world before his time. Ever, actually. But he was so gifted, they said, such a credit to the Uchiha name.
Mikoto hadn't wanted many of the things that had been decided for her children. Glory, accomplishment, recognition, acceptance - yes, of course she wanted those things. But not so soon. They had made a case, though. The council, her husband, and she had been young enough to think they had the right of it. She had grown into her role exactly as they had groomed her to. No matter that she'd reached the rank of Jonin, such an accomplishment felt trivial when faced with the great responsibility of carrying on the Uchiha legacy.
She had already been retired for ten years by the time she was Itachi's age now.
She knows what her son thinks of the clan. She'll never forget that night, barely thirteen years old, the first time she had ever seen him raise his voice to his father. Her proudest moment as a mother, and as a shinobi, was in talking Fugaku down from the uprising in those days following.
"He'll never cooperate. What world do you want for your sons?"
"I want a world in which they are given the respect they are owed."
"Itachi will earn that by his own merit. He has already begun. As will Sasuke. They do not need the name Uchiha to be respected."
"They will be hated."
"Don't give them a reason to be."
She could not credit herself entirely, of course. But she believed that in those moments, the ones shared between a husband and wife in the quiet of night, away from prying eyes and malintent, she had done her part to save them all.
And yet, she could tell, it was still not enough. The malevolence, the blood lust may have subsided, bridges may have been mended or built, but Itachi had never forgotten, nor forgiven it.
She knows, or thinks she knows, what this conversation is going to be.
She had heard through the grapevine (the grapevine being her much put upon younger son and favorite nephew) about the separation. Itachi had missed three weeks of family dinner in a row, a rarity since those family dinners had begun to include Sakura, and, concerned, she had trekked across the village to leave a note under her son's door. She knew, though it was never acknowledged, that the apartment was now a formality. He returned just frequently enough to collect his mail and had little other use for it. For this reason she was surprised to peak in through the blinds and notice the tell tale signs of an apartment which was, most certainly, being lived in.
Forgoing the note, she opted for a longer route home, passing by the hospital and hoping to catch a glimpse of either her son or his charming girlfriend. Seeing neither, she continued back home, spotting her youngest son and entwining her arm in his as she caught up with him. She began her needling and it wasn't long before Sasuke admitted that Itachi was back in his apartment.
'The family shouldn't be involved,' Sasuke had said. The family, not just the clan. Shisui hadn't managed to fill in more blanks, ruefully saying 'they've been taking some time apart. Itachi won't say much about it.'
She wishes, as much as a mother can, that they could have offered him the simplicity and ease of a family without their legacy. Where the biggest fights where about dishes left in the sink or certain people not doing their share of the laundry. She wishes she could act as his mother, always, first and foremost, and not his matriarch. The balance of being both was precarious, and always painful for at least one of them. A lifetime of impossible choices, all so that she could pass the impossible choices to him. She can tell, from the set of his shoulders and the tension around his mouth, that he's made a choice.
They had chosen not to reveal their relationship to his direct family at first, both naturally private (not to mention busy) people. They hadn't hidden it, per se, but didn't see sense in turning their courtship into an act of public theater. As a clan heir and apprentice to the Hokage they found themselves objects of spectacle often enough. Aside from this, they both found themselves naturally shy, public displays of affection making them both a touch uneasy. It was fortunate, then, that Sakura was considered such a close friend of the family. Her childhood association with his brother, and her known rank as occasional ANBU operative, made sightings of the two of them together perfectly natural. If general members of the public had their suspicions they never provided enough cause for those suspicions to grow beyond the idle chatterings of gossip mongers at the market. Sakura's childhood affection for his brother, unfortunately being well known, made her the primary target, titterings about her transference of affections rarely taking into account the possibility that Uchiha Itachi, notably the 'least emotive man in Konoha,' might return them with any fullness of force.
In those seven hours between Sasuke 'discovering' them and Itachi finally dragging himself out of her apartment, they'd taken a few moments to iron out some of the details of this newly official relationship.
"You're my boyfriend now," Sakura had remarked cheerily, tracing circles on his bare chest when they were back in her bed, recovering from another round of lovemaking. He let out a small breath of laughter through is nose, his chest reverberating with amusement. She'd learnt not to expect belly laughter from him, and as such was delighted with the response.
"I believe so, yes," he replied, breath tickling her hairline.
"And Sasuke knows," she continued, a bit more serious. She tensed slightly, "you don't think he'll tell your parents, will he?"
Itachi drew back a fraction in surprise, withdrawing his neck to try to meet her eyes.
"Would you be bothered if he did?" He asked quietly. He had, in that split second decision to answer the door, made another decision: he was all in. Whatever that meant. He was ready for whatever more was, he was excited for what came next. He was prepared for whatever upheaval it could bring. Besides, he privately reasoned, and had been reasoning for several weeks, his parents could be brought to see the sense of his choice soon enough. Sakura was never one to shy away from a challenge.
It would have surprised Sakura to learn that he had fallen in love first. As much as she wore her heart on her sleeve, she had built up a delicate wall around herself as well. She felt deeply, certainly, but had made an active effort to hold herself back from it.
He frightened her, a little bit, with his eyes that could see everything and his voice that could sooth her or break her in turn. He was dangerous for her, she knew. He had responsibilities and exceptions placed upon him at a young age and she was not naïve enough to allow herself to fall freely and joyfully in love without some glimmer of hope for success.
"I don't want to cause a problem for you," she answered, weighing her words carefully, hoping the creeping insecurity she was feeling wouldn't come through in her voice. This was a useless hope, she knew right away. Itachi propped himself up on an elbow, forcing Sakura to reposition herself to meet his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from across her forehead and looked at her intensely.
"I'm prepared to tell them about us at whatever point you're comfortable with," he assured her. It was both more than she could have asked for and yet not quite enough, and seeing doubt still lingering in her eyes he bent down to kiss her gently. She closed her eyes and pressed herself into the kiss, feeling bereft when he pulled away.
"We don't need to reveal our relationship to them now, if you don't want to," he assured her. She still had questions, namely about the source of his willingness to open their relationship up to his clan.
"Let's wait," she acquiesced, "I think I want you to myself a bit longer."
It was agreed, however, that Team Seven should be made aware, as well as Shisui.
It worked out well for the two of them; they could enjoy each others' company in public as much as they wanted, coyly deflect the occasional questioning, and enjoy each other to their hearts' extent in private, unbothered by politics or the pressures that would amount from idle speculation.
A year into their 'official' relationship, approximately a year and a half into their more intimate acquaintance, all members of their more immediate circle knew. It was only right, they supposed, that Sasuke had known first, and a few days later Sakura assembled Team Seven to tell them of the development. It went against every bone in her body to turn it into a grand announcement, especially considering the relationship itself was still so fresh and the three other men closest to her had a habit of being annoyingly protective.
"I have something to tell you," she began, setting a bottle of whiskey and four stacked glasses down on her low coffee table, lowering herself to sit cross legged on the floor, facing her teammates. Kakashi was on the floor across from her, Naruto and Sasuke (who she felt absolutely should be there for the conversation to deflect whatever questions might be raised regarding his stance in all this) splayed across her couch. Naruto, who was closer to her, had propped his feet up on her table, and she shoved them off unceremoniously before continuing.
"You're getting promoted again!" Naruto burst out angrily, earning looks of consternation all around.
"No," Sakura replied, drawing a measured breath, "would that be a problem if I was?" she continued through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, we barely see you anymore! That's why you missed training the other day, isn't it?" Beneath the brashness she could hear a measure of hurt, and, against her will, softened a bit.
"I'm sorry about that, but no, not a promotion," She continued, opening the whiskey and pouring a healthy amount into each glass.
"What then," the blonde interrupted.
"Jesus, idiot, let me finish," she barked, sliding a glass to him, "I'm seeing someone."
The four of them remained completely still for a moment, she and Sasuke waiting for the reactions of the other two, who, for the moment, seemed to have difficulty processing.
"WHAT?"
"And I'm telling you all together because you're important to me, and I need you all to be accepting of the fact that he's going to be a... part of my life. And because I want you to be happy for me," she finished with some force.
"Alright," grumbled Naruto, still somewhat perturbed.
"So who is this mystery man?" Probed Kakashi, visible eye narrowed, mentally going though their list of common acquaintances. It had to be someone of some importance, firstly, for them to be worth Sakura's time in the first place, and secondly, to warrant this war-counsel like meeting. She flattened her lips momentarily, exchanging a quick glance with Sasuke which was observed by and reacted poorly to by Naruto.
"Is it Sasuke?" He bellowed, mouth agape in either anger or disgust.
"Cut to the chase, Sakura," Kakashi advised, "no need to build suspense." She had the decency to blush a bit.
"No," she repeated, forcefully, "it's Itachi."
Naruto's reaction to that piece of the news was actually quite similar to Sasuke's. He froze, eyes bulging and lip curling.
"Is this a Sasuke thing?" Naruto blurted out, dumbfounded, just as Kakashi offered his input of "Bit old for you, isn't he?"
"Oh, shut the fu-" she started in on both of them.
"Hey, are you really okay with this, Sasuke?" Naruto demanded over her.
"Hn," was his only noncommittal response. She expected this, at least.
"Are you really going to let your psycho brother take advantage of our Sakura like this?" He barreled on.
"Don't talk about him like that!" "What your mouth, idiot." Both Sasuke and Sakura answered together, grimacing at each other.
"You don't seem very surprised, Sasuke," Kakashi hedged.
"Wha- Sasuke, did you know about this?"
Sasuke and Sakura both exchanged another expression of extreme discomfort.
"Sakura! You told him before us?" Naruto seemed truly hurt at this, and it was in an effort to mitigate that hurt that she unthinkingly blurted a reassurance.
"No! we hadn't meant to tell him, either, he just sort of walked in on-"
"ALRIGHT," Kakashi cut her off, reaching for the bottle and topping up all their glasses. Naruto had reverted to a state of disgusted horror and Sasuke looked on the verge of being ill. Kakashi pushed their glasses back towards them forcefully. "Sakura, if you're happy, you could certainly have done worse. I'm sure he knows that the three of us together are more than capable of retaliation should it be warranted."
With that, he raised his glass to her, and took a swig of the liquor, pulling the top of his mask down for just a moment and sharing a hint of a smile with her.
"Thank you, Kakashi," she said softly, raising her glass to him in turn, and glowing in the reluctant congratulations offered by her team. "And that'll be the four of us, if it comes to it."
Itachi and his mother sit across from each other for several long moments, and she enjoys the brief minute of calm before he broaches a question both shocking and telling.
"Have you been happy, as matriarch," he asks gently and earnestly. Mikoto licks her lips before answering, drawing her hands away from his and wrapping them around her tea cup.
"That isn't a simple question, darling," she begins, "being yours and Sasuke's mother has been the greatest joy of my life, and I've had no higher privilege than serving this family and this village."
"Have you been happy, mother," he pushes.
"The point of a shinobi's life isn't to be happy, Itachi," she responds sadly.
"I don't-" he begins haltingly, "I don't know that that's true."
"Happiness, it... it's fleeting, Itachi. That's not to say it'll run out, one day, but to build a life in pursuit of it... it isn't a constant state of being. I have had very happy days in my life as matriarch," she reaches out to take his hand again, her's now warmed by the cup, that same warmth in her voice. "The day I had you, Sasuke, the day you passed your exams. Your fourteenth birthday, that was a happy day, wasn't it?"
His fourteenth birthday had been a mere two months after the almost night of horrors. It had been the first birthday they had celebrated with anyone outside of his clan. A goodwill gesture. Kakashi had tried to get him drunk behind his mothers' back when Itachi had snuck out of the house to sneak a cigarette with Shisui.
This answer removes any amount of doubt he may still have.
"My first priority has to be her happiness, now," he says quietly. Mikoto feels tears pricking behind her eyes, and before she can offer any reassurance Fugaku enters the home from the same door Itachi had arrived through.
Sakura's integration to the Uchiha family was surprisingly smooth.
It was a year in, after the majority of their close acquaintances had some knowledge of their relationship, that they chose to tell their families.
For Itachi's part, he was tired of deflecting match making attempts and not so subtle hints from his family to settle down. Or, more precisely, he was eager to tell them that such efforts were entirely wasted and he had already met a woman of higher caliber than they could hope to affix him to.
For Sakura's, she was growing tired of the nagging anxiety that hiding the relationship entailed.
A plan was made and set in motion, Sakura would join the family for their weekly meal, not an entirely unusual occurrence given her close working relationship with both sons, and they would introduce themselves to his parents as a couple.
"This feels like a terrible plan," she hissed under her breath, trailing after Itachi as they made their way to the compound.
"It's an excellent plan," he reassured her.
"It's barely a plan at all!" He stopped walking abruptly, Sakura crashing into his shoulder in her distraction. Turning to face her he looked at her intently.
"What are you afraid of, Sakura?" he asked. Her anxiety had been high the past few days, but it was not until now that Itachi recognized a tinge of true fear in her eyes. How long had that been there?
"If they don't approve..." she trailed off.
"If you're afraid of them being unkind to you, I can assure you-"
"No!" She interrupted. Proud and intimidating the Uchihas may be, but she had seen enough of Mikoto's hospitality and Fugaku's temper to know they wouldn't, at least, abuse her to her face. "But please don't pretend that their approval isn't important to you."
Itachi was quiet for a moment, considering her, before leaning in to kiss her squarely on the mouth, hand cupping her cheek tenderly. When he withdrew Sakura was both taken aback and flushed. Such public displays, especially so close to his family home, were unheard of in their relationship.
"Their opinions have no baring on my feelings for you." With this he turned around and continued on towards the compound, capturing her hand in his and pulling her slightly to walk with him. Flattered but still not entirely reassured, Sakura caught up in the next second and tried to keep her head high and heartbeat in check as they wound their way through the compound, cognizant of several pairs of eyes following them.
It was with no small amount of nervousness that Sakura followed Itachi as he led them both into the house and directly to where his parents were in the living room. She bent stiffly at the waist when he introduced her simply as, "Mother, father, I believe you know Haruno Sakura, apprentice to the Hokage, and my girlfriend of the past year."
The shock the statement illicited was enough to offset any immediate hostility or disapprobation. Mikoto was the first to recover, eyeing her husband for some cue of how to respond. After sever seconds with no help from that quarter Mikoto rose from her seat, and waltzed forward, wrapping the girl in a hug.
"Sakura, of course, it's been too long!"
What followed was a stilted, but pleasant, dinner, attended by Sasuke and Shisui as well, who acted as buffers when questions became a bit too probing for comfort. Fugaku stayed mostly silent, though, Itachi reassured her, it was not much different from his usual demeanor. He directed a few pointed questions to her concerning her family, her training, and her current work, and seemed satisfied enough with her answers.
Sakura joined Sasuke and Shisui in the living room for ta after being forcefully expelled from the kitchen for trying to help Mikoto clean up. "It's not a job for guests!" Or youngest sons, apparently, a Itachi was the only one instructed to stay.
"I'll tell the elders not to take it seriously until you tell them to," Mikoto reassured him as he joined her at the sink.
"It is serious, mother," was his insistent response.
"Good," she answered, winking, "then you'll enjoy the peace from them even more."
Mikoto moves them deftly from the kitchen to the living room, allowing Itachi to take a place on the tatami mat before them.
"I need to speak with you about my engagement to Sakura Haruno, and our future in the clan."
"I was under the impression the engagement had been terminated," Fugaku interrupts with a sigh.
"I fully intend to marry her," he continues, "and in order to do so I cannot bring her into this family. It is my wish to abdicate my position of clan heir."
"Itachi," begins Fugaku, in a tone that, from any other man, can almost be described as delicate.
"I have no wish to turn my back on this family," he continues softly, "or to force you from our lives."
"That won't be necessary," his father interrupts, not allowing him to continue. Itachi does not rise from his place on the floor, but feels his father move closer to him, and finally looks up when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looks into his fathers face and, for once, does not attempt to mask his shock. Fugaku looks almost morose.
"I'm tired of fighting, Itachi," he says, baring more emotion than his son has ever witnessed from him. And, indeed, he looks it. His father, in only a moment, goes from the indomitable figure of stoicism and malice Itachi has almost always known him as to a hardened and depleted veteran of two wars and a failed coup. "Do what you must."
Itachi had been prepared to fight, to threaten, to dredge up long buried skeletons. This calm, defeated acceptance, welcome as it is, feels hollow. Hollow and dangerous, somehow. More than fifteen years since the tidal shift in his father's ideology, and Itachi still struggles to trust any offerings of peace from him.
"Thank you, father," Itachi murmurs in response, remaining immobile on the floor until he hears his father exiting down the hall. Raising himself up he looks towards his mother for a sign of what to do.
Smiling ruefully, Mikoto places a hand tenderly to his cheek. "You ought to go home to her, Itachi. There'll be time to talk in the future."
Following her husband down the hall, Mikoto leaves Itachi to his complete solitude, and to, perhaps, the greatest sense of peace he's even felt in this house.
These chapters are really becoming more backstory than anything else, which wasn't my intention when I started continuing this but I have to say I am enjoying it a lot. Nice to break up the angst! Thank you, all, for your continued interest!