CHAPTER 4
Omiai
Re-edited: 07 January 2019
Epigraph:
"You do not win
by struggling to the top of a caste system,.
You win
by refusing to be trapped within one at all."
—Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth
ʚ—ɞ
"We're here," the matchmaker declared inauspiciously.
Sakura looked up to inspect the house standing before her in all its glory. Although renovated with modern materials, it was a time-honoured architecture preserving its traditional shoji doors and wooden windows. Plants decorated either side of the main entrance, an oil-paper umbrella adding personal flavour.
But Sakura knew that quaint red umbrella like she knew the oath she had sworn as a medical kunoichi.
She knew it well, and panic rose like bile up her throat.
She stumbled backwards.
"Sakura!" she heard her mother hiss, "what are you doing?'
I don't know, mother. Her fingers curled around the front of her obi, crushing its embroidered silk. What have you been doing?
Sakura lifted the bottom layers of her constrictive kimono to better maintain her balance. How nice it would have been if she could lift the heavy dread compressing her chest just as effortlessly.
Glancing at her parents, their lack of awed wonder shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. Omiai were arranged between a matchmaker and a candidate's legal guardian. They had planned this. They had been planning it far longer than she had realised, lying in wait for her highest bidder.
And standing in front of the Uchiha clan leader's house, it seems they've succeeded.
Sakura struggled to contain the hysterical laughter exploding up her chest.
Only two possible candidates resided in the main household; Uchiha Sasuke and Uchiha Itachi. Both were renowned beyond their identities as sons of the current head of the founding family. The infamous brothers penetrated Konoha's ranks over the years, quickly rising up the shinobi ladder and establishing a name for themselves. Their profiles were polished by good looks, clean reputations and a wealthy title, easily ranking them on the top of the husband prospects list.
Women throughout the Fire Country made it their goal to claim one of the two Uchiha brothers—maybe even both, in some sick, twisted lover's fantasy. Some had managed to garner their attention, especially Sasuke's, but none had succeeded in coercing them to the altar.
None.
"Straighten yourself Sakura! A proper lady does not stumble, tripor fall. You should carry yourself with more grace." Mebuki's sharp reprimand doused her in cold water, reminding her of the gravity of the situation at hand.
She needed to figure a way out of this omiai, not come to terms with the preposterous predicament.
Swoosh.
The sudden rattle of a shoji door sliding open took Mebuki off guard, causing her to jump and yelp loudly in surprise.
"A proper lady does not squeal either, Okaa-san," Sakura retorted, unable to resist a sly remark at the rare sight. Her mother's responding glare only served to further feed her vindictive sense of pleasure.
"Good morning." The voice that greeted them was dulcet and evidently feminine. Uchiha Mikoto stood by the doorway, a polite smile gracing her lips as she surveyed each one of them. They must have been a sight to see for the matriarch's forehead wrinkled in concern, "Is everything alright?"
Hiding behind her long sleeve, Sakura smirked smugly when her mother cleared her throat and smoothed down the folds of her kimono in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. "Yes, Uchiha-san. All is well."
"Behave yourself," Mebuki warned Sakura under her breath, moving to follow her husband and the matchmaker into the house, "Do not dare shame our clan any further."
Sakura scoffed in the privacy of her mind. It was Mebuki who 'disgraced' the Haruno name by inadvertently shedding the stolid composure she only dons in public. Her tongue itched to lash back, but Sakura knew it was neither the time nor place for a verbal battle to ensue between them. No, she needed to gear up for a different fight.
One she dares not lose.
Rolling her tight shoulders, she took small, measured steps towards the entrance of the uncertain future that loomed before her. Slow and gentle, precisely the way she had been taught at the academy all those years ago.
Click.
. . . Clack.
Click.
. . . Clack.
With each step forward, the ominous, hollow sound of her geta hitting the cemented path echoed somberly in her ears, mimicking the tick of a time bomb seconds away from erupting. But Sakura was unafraid. Unwavering determination simmered beneath the surface of apprehension, and it lent her the courage to stride through the budding minefield with the will to survive.
And she will survive.
Passing the entryway, into the house, the proverbial bomb detonated mutely. Her unease and hesitation faded away like wisps of jittery smoke in the summer breeze. She wiped her face clean of weak emotions, and against all social etiquettes, Sakura unabashedly caught the eyes of the man who held the power to reign in her independence.
She refuses to tie herself to any man.
There was no room for mistakes.
ʚ—ɞ
The atmosphere enshrouding them was stifling. The Uchiha family remained dauntingly rigid, their cold veneer unnerving Sakura to the point of distraction. She was tempted to fidget and stretch her arms towards something solid, or maybe she wanted to cower in intimidation.
But Sakura forcibly detached herself from the fear, feigning a relaxed exterior. She kept her back ramrod, and her nose turned high, adamantly refusing to show a sign of weakness.
They settled down in a spacious four-corner room with tatami floorings. An Uchiha clan emblem—a large red and white fan—hung on one wall, covering almost its entire expanse. Directly opposite it, wall-to-wall shoji doors were pushed aside to grant its occupants an unspoilt view of the vast gardens thriving beyond the engawa. Minimalist navy cushions surrounded a low, oblong table at the centre, and eating ware for seven was arranged meticulously on top, but otherwise, the place was bereft of furnishing.
Impersonal, just like its owners.
Kamiko sat at the head of the table, parading her superior stature as an honoured matchmaker. The patriarch of each household took up seats on either side of her, followed by the respective matriarchs. Sakura sat beside her mother, precisely in front of the man who is supposedly her match.
Uchiha Itachi; Konoha's youngest ANBU Captain, the Uchiha family's rightful heir, and Sasuke's ever-beloved older brother. He was the person who stood beside Mikoto at the entrance to welcome the Harunos. It was he who greeted Sakura's glare with a calm gaze, mocking her disrespect with a polite incline of his head.
Uchiha Itachi.
The handful of times they met were never on pleasant terms. He was always there to witness her lowest points, silently judging her attire to her behaviour as she made a permanent fool of herself. Sakura had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that a man of his social calibre would ever spare her a glance. It seemed nothing more than a joke, but the elders expect her to believe Uchiha Itachi was the man who wishes to claim her as his wife.
Uchiha Itachi.
Sakura wondered if it's bad she was a tad disappointed.
"What a sickening turn of events," she grumbled under her breath.
"Did you say something, Sakura?"
All attention swung towards her, but it was the stern warning ringing in her father's voice that pierced her raw with shame. By deducting the affectionate honorific from her name, Kizashi was wordlessly daring her to repeat what she said—to test his dwindling tolerance and suffer the subsequent consequences. Sakura valued what little liberties she had too much to rise to the bait.
Shaking her head firmly, she replied, "No, otou-san."
Sakura lowered her eyes in the ruse of resignation, but the sudden prickly sensation skimming across the skin of her lower neck halted her. The fine hair on her arms rose. She quenched the reflex to shiver. Sakura peered up, locking gazes with her omiai partner. There was a knowing glint in those dark, depthless voids, telling her he had heard her brazen mutterings.
Good.
It meant she's one act closer to dissuading him from marrying her. One act closer to her goal.
Hopefully.
A girl who appeared no older than Sakura scurried into the room. She was quick but nimble as went about setting platters of assorted appetisers onto the table. Bowing at her waist, the girl left walking backwards, her head down and hands clasped over her stomach. Only once she had stepped out of the door did the girl turn her back to them.
Sakura raised her brows at the display of rigorous discipline. If that was the Uchihas' expected level of control over house help, she couldn't begin to imagine how much more domesticated Uchiha wives were.
Chopsticks tinkled against ceramic as everyone else dug into the food. Sakura remained still. As aesthetically appetising it was, the mix of anxious desperation and despair lodged in her stomach left no spare room for food. Sakura would rather not risk throwing up on the exquisite piece of kimono she was wearing.
Taking notice of her daughter's idleness, Mebuki made it a point to pile several sashimi slices on Sakura's plate before filling her own. She nudged Sakura tactfully using her elbow, knowing it'll send the needed message. Mebuki then struck a conversation with the matriarch and the matchmaker about the finest teas around Konoha. It was arbitrary, but it diverted attention away from her daughter's discourtesy.
Fugaku and Kizashi paid no heed to the women's chatter, distracted by their own conference about the village's current state of affairs.
Subtly rolling her eyes at them, Sakura picked mindlessly at the food on her dish. The rich aroma wafted past her nose, but it failed to make her mouth water. She waited for someone to address the obvious occasion at hand. The sooner they get done with this insanity, the faster she could get her hands on another mission.
Except no one seemed eager to accommodate her wishes today. The adults carried on with their meaningless small talk, not showing the least intent to include her or Itachi. Her patience waned.
Sakura may be a novice when it comes to omiai, but she doubted this was how the gathering was supposed to be conducted. If she remembers Ino's glorified tales correctly, the matchmaker should be intermediating a conversation between the two candidates for them to get acquainted. They are, after all, the central focus of the entire ordeal.
Contrarily, the parental presence left an itch on her intuition she couldn't quite scratch. She couldn't recollect a time when either Ino's mother or father accompanied her during a meeting. Even Hinata had attended them alone. So why were theirs here?
She felt that she knew the answer. It was there, tucked in the recesses of her mind, narrowly out of reach. It teased her with its skilful elusion.
"So Sakura." The medic jumped in her seat, her head snapping towards the unexpected attention. "Tell us about yourself."
Sakura's forehead creased in confusion, wondering if she heard him right. "Pardon?"
The edge of Fugaku's mouth twitched. Sakura couldn't decide if it was out of amusement or annoyance. "Tell us about yourself. What do you usually like to do?"
"Umm… I don't know. Normal things?"
Bewildered looks followed her ridiculous reply, and she flushed in embarrassment. Squirming in her seat, she cursed them for backing her into a corner when she was quite convinced the Uchihas already own a detailed information booklet about her.
"Don't you often visit Meisa-san's store?" Sakura's jaw unhinged, not having expected Itachi to speak up let alone help her out of the minor predicament. But alas when she looked at him, his eyes softened with encouragement.
"Yes, I enjoy spending my free time there. Plants have always interested me, even as a child."
Maybe she was hallucinating, but Sakura could swear Fugaku smirked as he threw Mikoto a side glance. "Is there any particular reason as to why?"
She bit the inside of her cheek. That was a dangerous question. A little too personal even. "I made my first friend, Yamanaka Ino, because of the wildflowers growing on the hills on the outskirts of the village. As you may know, the Yamanakas own a floristry. I used to help out at the shop every weekend a few years ago. I still do sometimes, but now I'm more intrigued by medicinal herbs."
At the Uchiha patriarch's questioning gaze, Sakura elaborated, "I work as a medic."
"Oh, in which sector?" Mikoto asked, perking up in her seat.
"I—" Sakura stopped short when she felt the sting of razor-sharp nails digging into her thigh. Swallowing a hiss, she swatted Mebuki's hands away and continued like she wasn't reproached just a second ago. It's not as if they don't already know, mother dear.
"The shinobi sector, Uchiha-san. I'm the Head Surgeon."
Mikoto hummed but otherwise gave no response. Clearly, she saw no point in interrogating the medic any further. The matriarch had her answer, and Sakura had taken a giant leap towards her freedom.
The Uchihas were known to put value in their family name above all else. Driven by immense pride, their family goes to unspeakable lengths to uphold their prestige. They would never want to associate themselves with a woman bearing the label of a rebel let alone permit their precious heir to marry her.
It would be scandalous.
The dialogue soon lulled into another bout of silence, only this time, it was more strained. Mebuki's rage bled in thick waves as the Uchihas' judgements hung heavy in the air. But Sakura didn't have it in her to give a damn. She would never deny her profession to please people who couldn't accept her for who she was. Her mother included.
A soft tapping on wood sliced through the palpable tension in the room.
Thank heavens for small favours.
The house help excused themselves before entering, armed with trays stacked to the brim with the next course. Their footsteps were imperceptible as they moved around, retrieving empty bowls, replacing them with new plates. Miso soup, steamed rice, chilled vegetables, grilled fish and meat… various tantalising dishes crowded the tabletop in a strangely organised manner.
Sakura had to hand it to the Uchihas. They held nothing back when treating their guests.
Rolling her shoulders, Sakura straightened her back and pulled a bowl of rice closer to her. She served herself a decent helping of vegetables and seafood, trying her utmost to ignore the heated stare boring a hole into her face.
"He's doing it again," Sakura grumbled under her breath, stabbing a tempura with her chopsticks. She shoved the hot piece into her mouth, chewing it as slovenly as a goat. Her parents were too distracted to reprimand her behaviour anyways.
Eating Etiquette 101.1: Never spear food with your chopsticks. It is boorish, and a proper lady refrains from such uncivilised acts.
Eating Etiquette 101.2: A proper lady is delicate in all her actions. She chews clean and slow with no mess or audible sounds to disturb her companions.
But rightful table manners be damned, Uchiha Itachi will never fail to scrutinise her from head to foot. It was not an entirely unfounded action, though, since more often than not, they bumped into each other when Sakura was a sight to behold. Her clothes would be rumpled, her hair mussed up and parts of her body either bruised or caked with dirt. He must have such an unfavourable image of her because the man made no secret of his disdain.
Itachi had yet to verbally state his scorn, but it was undeniable in the way he indirectly admonished her crassness when she dissed that haughty old croon for insulting Naruto. It rang clear in his soured features when he stumbled into her tousled mess after the strenuous fifteen-hour reconstructive surgery she struggled through to save his brother's life.
It was evident, and it was reason enough as to why his supposed interest in her was absolute nonsense.
Aimlessly mixing the food around her bowl, Sakura concluded it was far more plausible that her parents pulled every last string in their connections to get a hold of this opportunity. It made her wonder if they took into account her previous encounters with Itachi before hatching their schemes. Did they feel his dislike emanate from his pores like she did?
Considering Mebuki and Kizashi's desperate attempts to impress his family, though, she didn't doubt her parents conceived this to be their first meeting.
But it mattered not. Their lack of insight worked well in Sakura's favour.
It wasn't too far-fetched to believe the Uchihas accepted this omiai as a one-time formality. The Haruno name held enough stature behind it to prevent the Uchihas from immediately turning down their suggestion for an omiai. It was all about petty power play. After this meeting, the Uchihas would be free to reject further offers without the threat of malignant rumours staining their name.
And her job as Head Surgeon seemed to have sealed that fate.
Her parents' plans were doomed to fail, and Sakura never felt more vindicated. But she didn't count her blessings just yet. After all, one cannot determine how the winds would turn.
"Is the food not to your liking?"
Sakura was startled out of her reverie. Her flustered little head whipped towards the owner of the voice, and without thought, she blurted, "What?"
Sakura grunted when an elbow jabbed at her side. Again. Her mother's reproach was sound, so she made an effort to correct her speech. "Pardon me, Mikoto-san, but could you repeat that? I wasn't paying attention."
Taking a furtive peek at Itachi, Sakura caught the minuscule tilt of the corner of his lips. He was laughing at her, the jerk.
Mikoto smiled, not unkindly, giving an indicative nod at the mutilated food on Sakura's bowl. "The food. Is it not to your liking?"
The extent of her rudeness dawned on her. Sakura was quick to negate, waving her hands frantically. "No, no. The food is wonderful. I'm just too nervous to eat right now." It wasn't an outright lie, but neither was it the wholesome truth.
"No worries, it is understandable. This is your first omiai, is it not?"
Mikoto's gaze weighed heavily on Sakura as if it was dissecting her words and actions apart to uncover what hides beneath her exterior. It made her feel remarkably exposed. Naked even.
"Yes," Sakura replied, dutifully ignoring the growing numbness of her legs. Her brow ticked in distress as the ache to adjust her posture grew, but under that watchful stare, she couldn't find it in herself to move.
"Perhaps you want to skip the meal; have a walk around the district instead?" Something in the matriarch's tone alerted her. Mikoto wasn't proposing a course of action. No, she was relaying an order. "Itachi can show you around."
Blindly faithful to his mother's word, Itachi inclined his head then set aside his chopsticks. Sakura bit her lip, glancing frantically between Itachi who stood from his seat and his mother whose smile sent chills of dread down to her bone. Should she go or should she stay?
Which option would give her a direct ticket out of this house?
"Go," Mebuki whispered at her side, and she need not say more. Sakura scrambled to her feet, forcing her deadened legs to run after Itachi despite her ambition to contravene her own mother's wiles; the urge to escape Mikoto's scrutiny prevailed over it.
ʚ—ɞ
For the first time in a very long time, Uchiha Itachi felt peace.
Sitting in her direct line of vision, with their families sharing a simple meal over the prospect of their near future, he let go of his inhibitions. He let himself grasp at the tiniest inch of hope. So he sat there, unable to take his eyes off of her as he savoured the first proper interaction they've had in years.
He found her stubbornness amusing. If he were not as observant as he was, Sakura would seem absurdly unaffected by the tense interaction around her. Calm, even. Yet the subtle rustling of her clothes reached his ears, the pinch of her mouth captured his attention.
She is not the calm she portrayed herself to be.
And he supposes it would be stranger if she were truly unruffled.
From the day he sent the formal request for her hand in marriage to early this morning, he had agonised about his decision, over and over, turning his feelings inside out until he no longer knew what he wanted. Itachi questioned, then questioned again whether he placed his counters on the right grid. Shisui's disagreement echoed obnoxiously in his ears; a broken record refusing to quieten unless it successfully coerced his foolish little cousin to take a step back and reconsider his hasty actions while they were still reversible.
Itachi couldn't deny it; Shisui was right.
Marriage was a whole different battle. Signing her name into his family registry, living together and exposing his vulnerabilities contrasted dramatically from watching her comings and goings from a distance. The latter was harmless, but the former could be irrevocable damaging. Permanent. Once the vows were exchanged, the documents stamped and registered, there was no turning back.
Not for Sakura.
As a man, it was socially acceptable for Itachi to file for divorce—even re-marry if he so desired. But divorce was synonymous with a woman's ruination. A divorce would do nothing but add the list of senseless matters the villagers would condemn Sakura for, and that was an outcome Itachi feared.
An outcome he needed to avoid.
So he decided to end it before it could even begin.
Itachi barely convinced himself, but as he prepped to formally meet the Harunos, he knew deep down that the move towards marriage was too hurried. Too risky. He braced himself for her parents' inevitable outrage at rescinding his offer for their daughter's hand.
But then she entered his house, and that was all the answers he'd ever needed.
Sakura had stood there, completely and unapologetically her. A determined fire burned in the depths of her emerald pyres, fueled by a firm resolution that flowed in sheer abundance. One look reconfirmed the reasons he chose her. One look and all the doubts and worries he needlessly shouldered ebbed away.
Haruno Sakura would be an extraordinary matriarch to his clan, but most all, she was the woman he wanted to share his life with.
Now, if only she'll let him.
"Perhaps you want to skip the meal; have a walk around the district instead? Itachi can show you around."
The underlying command in his mother's velveteen voice left no room for objection. So despite the apparent reluctance glossing over Sakura's features, Itachi set his eating utensils aside and rose to his feet. He didn't want to force her, but neither did he wish for them both to suffer mother dearest's oncoming wrath.
Itachi wasted no time to wait for Sakura to gather her wits. He rose to his feet, striding towards the pathway which lead to the lake. He didn't doubt she would follow, and she didn't disappoint his certainty. Not a second after he stepped off the engawa, onto the stone path, his ears picked up on the scuffle of her footsteps scrambling after him in haste.
And for a logic beyond him, it made him smile.
Slowing his gait, he lingered awhile until she caught up with him. Neither attempted to strike up a conversation, content enough with the distraction their surroundings provided. Itachi watched her watch in wonder as they strolled through the gardens, relishing the spark in her eye when she caught sight of the vast array of plants and flowers.
The extended lengths of time she spent wandering inside their village's herb store hadn't escaped his notice. Each time she visited, she was lost within its confines for hours before typically emerging with a new pot of vegetation and a satisfied grin that matched the spring in her step. Perched on an adjacent building's rooftop, Itachi never tires of patiently waiting for her to exit the little abode because the joy she exuded after every visit was contagious.
Itachi had always wondered why those multipurpose plants fascinated her to such extremes. Although Sakura's answer to his father's question seemed straightforward, there was a vagueness about it that hinted her hobby was influenced by more than just the Yamanaka heiress.
But no matter. Itachi will figure it sooner or later.
Once they reached the end of the garden, Sakura craned her neck to look back at the bed of herbs, unable to tear her longing gaze away from it. Itachi bit down a chuckle. The inexplicable love for flora was one of the many quirks Sakura shared with his mother. When the time comes, he hopes the common ground would ease their ability to bond.
Walking side-by-side across the main street, the warmth of summer mornings enveloped them, warding off the cold draft that dissipated slowly as the sun rose higher. They passed by several shops entertaining their first wave of customers. A few of his relatives meandered outside their houses, inclining their heads at them in greeting instead of calling out to him like they usually did. He guesses it might be on account of his distinctly female company.
Stealing a glance at the woman at his side, Itachi was immediately taken aback by her growing agitation. With every foot she put forward, Sakura appeared to manoeuvre her body closer to his. Her widened eyes darted from him to his clansmen, then back again until she decidedly settled her gaze on the cemented road. Her loose fringe hung listlessly, obscuring his view of her face.
She, in the simplest term, bewildered him. For the life of him, Itachi couldn't fathom a reason for the swift shift in her mood. One moment she was deeply enthralled by the greenery around her, and the next she was cowering away like a slave from the abusive clutches of a dictator.
Why, though? What was she so afraid of?
Sadly, the answers eluded him. It was a cruel truth that he knew next to nothing about Sakura. He knew her habits and her little nuances, scraped together through his little covert observations, but these facts barely thawed her depths. Itachi doesn't truly know Sakura. He doesn't know why she loves what she loves or why she does what she does; he doesn't know the intimate, little details that justify her as an individual.
And it frustrated him.
Suddenly, she lurched forward, her feet entangling at the abrupt loss of balance. Itachi found his body moving of its own accord. Before he could fully comprehend his actions, his hands reached for her, prepared to break her fall—but the moment his fingers poised to grab hold of her shoulders, Sakura jerked away. She took two hasty steps back, widening the distance between them.
The world around them stilled. Awkwardness descended upon them in thick, stifling layers.
"Thank you," Sakura cleared her throat, dusting the length of her kimono in an act to regain her composure, "but I'm fine."
His eyes roamed automatically over her body, inspecting every inch of her to pinpoint any possible injury. Detecting none, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Hn."
A strange look flitted across her face, but it vanished before Itachi could put a name to it. "So, where exactly are we going?"
Clearly, she wanted to change topics. Itachi internally debated if it was worth addressing her evident turmoil, but the hands mindlessly fidgeting with the material of her obi dissuaded him. Now wasn't the time.
Complying with her silent wishes, Itachi nodded towards the body of water below the grassy slope bordering the roadside. "The Lake."
The deep blue waters glimmered like precious gems under the direct glare of light. Its glossy surface imitated a mirror, reflecting the hues of the cloudless sky along with the blurred images of the vegetation thriving on its banks. The waning croons of songbirds echoed gayly throughout the open space. A dry gust of wind whisked through the dew-packed trees, blowing fallen leaves and petals onto the water.
Descending the stone stairway built into the slope, Itachi carefully led Sakura to the dock.
When his mother suggested for them to take a mini excursion around the Uchiha district, the first place he thought of was this lake. Something in him nudged to show her one of the areas he frequented as an unfettered child. He wanted to explain to her why he brought her here, glorify her with the poignant memories this lake had witnessed; express how dear to his heart it was. But his lead-ladened tongue stuck to the floor of his mouth, too hesitant to move.
It didn't help his cause that Sakura constructed a palpable wall between them. The intangible barrier served to amplify his unease and force him to tread with caution.
"This place is beautiful," Sakura commented, awe lilting in her voice. "Do you come out here often?"
"Hn."
Itachi berated himself inwardly. That wasn't how he was supposed to respond! There were so many things he could have said, so many alternate answers he could have given, but the words floating in his mind refused to string into a coherent sentence.
Her dull chuckle almost made him wince.
"Well, you are brothers alright. If the dark hair and dark eyes don't give it away, the curt responses and caveman-like grunts does the job."
As much as Itachi loved little brother, he couldn't decipher how he felt to be compared to Sasuke by a person he saw as a romantic interest. A person who, evidently, Sasuke was already close to but Itachi struggled to get to know.
It wasn't a very pleasant feeling.
Already aware she wouldn't receive a reply, Sakura readily shook off her geta. She lifted the hem of her kimono to her knees and moved to the edge of the dock. Crouching low, she balanced herself on one leg then carefully dipped the toes of her adjacent leg into the cool waters.
A disarming smile crinkled her eyes, and Itachi decided he didn't need to rack his brains to find a topic worth talking about. He can just do what he does best; relish the joy of observing her as she found delight in the most mundane things.
ʚ—ɞ
That evening, Itachi's knuckles rapped on the wooden door of the Hokage's office. Once his presence was acknowledged, he entered the unusually crowded room.
The coppery hues of twilight bore through the glass windows, reflecting onto every visible surface in the room that was yet to be seized by the clutches of darkness. It intensified the dismal atmosphere lingering within. Off to a side, there were a dozen children of varying ages standing in three rows of four. Their restlessness was apparent in the way they shifted from foot to foot, their moistened eyes darting to the vacant spaces in the office as if expecting terror to appear out of thin air.
Itachi had no doubt about it. These were the missing Fire Country children his team failed to locate during their last mission.
A woman in a grey yukata stood protectively between Itachi and the children, eyeing him more keenly than a hawk after its prey. As he stepped closer, he could see the beginnings of a scowl colouring her features, but he paid it no mind.
She was of average height, her form slender but well-proportioned. Tucked into a simple updo, her violet-tinged hair was dusted with white. The crows feet marking the edge of her steely eyes were pronounced while the skin of her neck showed clear lines of ageing.
She did not fit any of the descriptions of the three girls who worked for the widowed dango stall owner.
Who was this woman?
The ANBU Captain stopped a few inches short of the Hokage's desk and bowed in greeting. "You called for me, Hokage-sama?"
Minato got straight to business. "Itachi, this is Hagihara Aira-san. She runs the Hagihara Child Protection Centre alongside her husband." He gestured towards the woman who saw no point in attempting to hide her suspicion of Itachi. "Hagihara-san, meet Uchiha Itachi, the Captain in charge of the mission to take down Kurosawa."
At the Hokage's revelation, the older woman visibly relaxed. Her oddly unwelcoming demeanour did not offend Itachi. If she ran a child protection centre and the missing children came here with her, it could only attribute to one thing. Somehow, those children had ended up in her care. She must know the atrocities they've been through if she was openly hostile to strangers approaching them.
"A little over a week ago, close to thirty children appeared at our doorstep with no guardian accompanying them," Hagihara set aside her misgivings as she recounted the incident. The slight hitch in her voice belied her pain of reliving the distressing memory. "I managed to coax some of the kids to tell me what had happened. According to them, they were in the midst of an auction, minutes away from being sold off, when a cloaked figure attacked their captors."
The Hokage sent Itachi a telling look.
"This cloaked person also escorted the kids to the shelter, but he fled immediately after ensuring they were safe enough to be left alone," Minato continued to explain. Resting his elbows on the desk, he steepled his fingers to prevent them from tapping incessantly against the wooden frame. "Hagihara-san nursed the children to the best of their abilities. Her husband made arrangements to send the other kids to their respective villages, but Hagihara-san brought the Konoha children back here herself so she could testify as well as to give us crucial evidence."
Itachi kept his emotions neutral in spite of his confusion.
Hagihara handed him a piece of paper. It was creased and dirtied at the edges, the oily blotches replicating the form of small fingers. Unfolding the sheet, he expected to read a message or a warning of some sort, but instead, his critical gaze latched onto the painting of a purple flower. Its numerous petals were elongated and narrow, cramped together to resemble the bulb of green thorns it protruded from.
"It's a thistle," Hagihara clarified, confirming his hunches, "In the language of flowers, it signifies defiance. It's also, as I've heard, the symbol Kuro no Senshi uses."
That wasn't public knowledge.
He had read the file on Kuro no Senshi. Those paintings began to appear at mission sites only a few years ago when conflicts arose over the reasons why certain operations failed. The ANBU delegated to this case prior to Itachi linked the paintings to Kuro no Senshi and were then banned from recounting the newfound clue.
The Hokage's decision to keep it confidential was rightly justified. The renegade was infamously evasive. His mysteriousness made it difficult to differentiate his illegal stunts from those of rebel groups and hired guns. If rumours were to spread about Kuro no Senshi's official mark of glory, it wouldn't be too far fetched for missing-nins to start faking paintings to save their own hide. They would unjustly blame their crimes on an innocent as a strategy to mislead hunter nins.
But wait…
"The paintings are not public knowledge," Itachi turned to address Hagihara, "How did you hear about it?"
"Maki-chan told me." Hagihara peeked over her shoulder, her gaze drowning in compassionate sorrow. "Kuro no Senshi had given her the paper with the instructions to hand it over to me. He had also informed her of the flower's meaning."
Itachi followed the older woman's line of sight. A little girl who looked to be the oldest stood in the first row, next to where the Hokage sat. She didn't turn at the mention of her name, lost in thought as she stared blankly at the sun sinking behind the Hokage Monument. Despite her inattentiveness, she held tightly onto the hand of the youngest child, a boy who could be no older than three. The poor toddler trembled in her grasp, tears glistening as it trickled in thick rivulets down his flushed cheeks.
The sight tugged at Itachi's heart, and the urge to comfort the boy surged through him. He knew he couldn't, though. Not while he was here for duty.
"Did she see what he looked like?" Itachi knew the question was pointless, but it was better to be completely certain.
Sighing, Hagihara shook her head. "I've asked her about it, but Maki-chan refuses to speak up about him."
The girl's reluctance to discuss the subject spoke for itself. Maki has caught a glimpse of the otherwise faceless convict. She could know the shade of his eyes, the colour of his hair or even his seeming age. But interrogating a child recovering from distraught was unethical. Inhumane.
The ANBU Captain will just have to find other means to catch Kuro no Senshi and uncover his secrets.
Itachi inspected the paper in his hands once more. The painting was beautiful, the delicate brush lines and careful mix of watercolour shades showing it was perfected by professional hands. Thistles usually signified Pain, Protection and Pride, but the lesser known symbolism was Defiance.
What exactly was Kuro no Senshi opposing? Their village leader? The council elders?
Or mayhaps it was the shinobi system itself.
ʚ—ɞ
In the still afternoon air, the melody of mother nature's choir resonated wholely around training ground three. The river's knee-deep waters gushed and tumbled over jagged rocks, its tuneful gurgles a backdrop to the energetic hum of cicadas. Flaps of feathers became distinct when a murder of crows rushed over the open glade, their caws reverberating soundly. Bumblebees buzzed from summer bloom to summer bloom, sipping sweet, succulent nectar and dispersing pollen throughout the length of its travels.
Sakura sat beneath the shade of a tree, her back resting against its rough bark as she idly admired the way a stray sunbeam filtered through a gap in the dense foliage. Most would see the spot of light on the shadowed ground then glance away, not caring to question or put meaning to its existence.
Kuro no Senshi was much alike. The underground organisation was able to exist so long solely because there were cracks in the shinobi system. Kunoichi were able to conduct missions with haphazard ease because men chose to overlook the obvious.
Or perhaps they were apprehensive about adopting uncommon ideals; Kami forbid, a woman would parade around in a pair of pants and a shinobi vest, hunting down criminals like they did.
A breeze whistled past Sakura, thick and heavy with humidity, barely able to lift even the dry dust from the ground. Her forehead was sprinkled with sweat, but her arms laid limp on her crossed legs, too tired to wipe it off. The perspiration would return in no time anyway. Sighing pensively, Sakura let her eyes droop shut. If her mother were to see her right now, with the hem of her yukata hiked up to her thighs to accommodate her posture and her hair askew from a quick updo, she would faint. The mere thought of it tugged a smile on her lips.
Shliiing—clang!
The jarring clash of metal striking metal disturbed the tranquil harmony, and Sakura faced forwards only to see Naruto wielding a single kunai to block Sasuke's katana from slicing the length if his chest.
"Give up already, idiot," Sasuke directed with a smug smirk. He put more weight on his sword, forcing the blond to bend over backwards. "There's no way you can escape."
Naruto's sandals scrunched against small rocks as he adjusted his footing to keep balance, silently grateful for the undue support of the stump digging into his back. "Never, dattebayo!"
Upon his bold proclamation, Naruto disappeared in a puff of smoke. The sudden loss of stability caused the Uchiha to stagger. Grunting in irritation, Sasuke took a full turn, surveying the glade for his cheating teammate. "This is supposed to be a taijutsu spar with weapons only, Naruto. No ninjutsu allowed."
"Teme, we're ninjas. Kakashi-sensei always told us to look beneath the underneath. Expect the unexpected."
Picking up the particular location Naruto's voice originated from, Sasuke ran towards it, his hand slipping into his weapons pouch. He threw four shurikens at the flicker of orange he detected from the corner of his sharp eye, but it zipped aimlessly through the leaves of a tree.
Suddenly, Naruto reappeared mid-air, just a few meters above Sasuke. His leg was outstretched, targeting to hit the Uchiha's upper body. "Take this, teme," he screamed out brazenly.
With lightning fast reflexes, Sasuke spun on the balls of his feet and grabbed hold of his teammate's ankle. He used the momentum to throw him effortlessly across the training ground. Not wasting a moment, he rushed towards him once more, sheathing his katana into its scabbard.
"You're distracted today."
Sakura jerked in surprised at the unexpected voice to her immediate left, stealing her attention away from the fight. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed Sai sitting on a flat boulder with his legs crossed at his knee. A drawing book rested on his lap, a pencil in his hand as his wrist flicked in long, slow strokes across the paper. She had forgotten his presence.
"No, I'm not," she denied.
"Normally, you would be engrossed by the spar, but today you're unusually enthralled by those leaves." Sai did not take his eyes away from his art piece as he replied. It left Sakura marginally curious about what he was drawing. "And you've sighed twenty-three times since you sat."
Sakura gaped at him, incredulous. "You actually counted?"
"Should I not have?"
"It's creepy," Naruto commented, rolling over in the dirt twice to avoid the fireball headed towards him.
Sai's hand stilled from shading his drawing. He looked up at them, his brows meeting in confusion. "How so?"
Sakura knew it was pointless to explain.
Three years ago, Sakura was sent along with Naruto, Kakashi, and Team Gai to Suna on their mission to rescue Gaara. She was the team's accompanying medic, tasked only with healing the Kazekage's poisoned brother. A week after they returned home from that successful mission, they met Sai. He was assigned as replacement of Team 7's fallen teammate. Naruto had kicked up a fuss about it, but the Hokage refused to budge with his decision, and with grudging acceptance, Naruto introduced Sai to Sakura, claiming they would meet sooner or later.
Their first impression of Sai, simply put, was that he's a tactless, incorrigible jerk. Within minutes of getting acquainted, he managed to insult Naruto, nickname Sakura 'Ugly', and worse, denounce an absent Sasuke as a deserter—all with a fake smile painted across his pale face.
Back then, Sasuke was a sensitive topic no one dared to raise in their presence.
Sai's unjustified accusation provoked Naruto to attack him with reckless abandon, but Sakura had held him back. Pasting on a fake smile of her own, she imagined striking Sai's forehead and watching his rude ass punt to the other end of the village. Having been aware of the gathering crowd, however, she settled for stepping on his toes, daring him under her breath to accuse Sasuke without proof one more time. She distinctly remembers him choke down his scream when his bones cracked under the pressure she exerted.
Getas may be the most irritating footwear, but they're useful tools against the ignorant.
It quickly became apparent that Sai was not only socially inept but also emotionally stunted. Sakura often comes across him in bookstores and at the public library, reading up guides on social interactions, memorising ludicrous etiquettes and rigid rules. He would check definitions of every known emotion then try to put them into context.
His effort was acknowledgeable, though, prompting those close to him to be more understanding, but doubts lingered about where he came from and what kind of life he had lived for him to turn out this way. At times, Sakura even wonders if he really was in the same shinobi rank as the rest of Team 7.
Sai was a person who was very monotonous with his emotions. So it shocked everyone into a stupor when he announced his engagement to Ino two months ago. It shocked Sakura even more that she didn't have an inkling about it. Ino was her best friend. She had always thought the Yamanaka heiress would end up with Sasuke, either by hook or by crook, seeing as how she'd been fawning over him since their adolescence.
It seems Sakura thought wrong, though.
"So what's on your mind, Sakura-chan?" Naruto asked, ducking low so the katana would slice through the air instead of his neck. "Is it some bastardous patient again?"
It warmed her chest when all three turned their heads towards her, fully expecting an answer. Despite the line society drew to segregate genders, giving men the higher status and encouraging them to look down on women, Team 7 showed her once again that they defied those lessons. She can be honest with them.
"I attended an omiai."
Her announcement visibly took them off-guard. Sasuke paused mid-charge. Naruto tripped on his feet, landing face first in the dirt. Sai's eyes merely widened.
Sakura pursed her lips, fully aware their reactions weren't entirely out of line. Considering her lack of omiai meetings throughout the years as well as her evident distaste for men, it might even be warranted. Still, it unsettled her, making her feel like some bad joke worth criticising.
Pushing himself up, Naruto adjusted his position so he could sit cross-legged on the ground. Dusting his hands on his pants, he questioned, "When was this?"
"Yesterday."
"Which clan was foolish enough to believe you're worthy of continuing their family lineage?"
Sakura scoffed in disbelief at Sasuke's impudence. He stood metres in front of her, resting his weight on one leg, arms crossed over his chest. His face was adorned with an egotistical smirk that ticked her the wrong way. If he were any closer to her, she would've risked her kunoichi career to bash his head into the ground.
"First off, that remark was bigoted. Second, it was your clan, Sasuke."
Smug satisfaction coursed through her when Naruto's smothered snickers reached her ears, and Sasuke's smirk slipped into oblivion. Vengeance was such sweet, sweet agony.
Clearing his throat, Sasuke jibed at her once more. "So who's the unlucky man? I'll be sure to send condolence flowers to the poor soul. He had to settle for you after all."
"Your brother."
Naruto no longer bothered to try and hide his amusement, clutching his stomach as he rolled over, guffawing loudly at Sasuke's failed attempt to regain his pride. Sakura didn't think the situation was as laughable as the blond made it out to be, but she relished the thrill of outplaying the Uchiha cockiness.
"I guess this is an appropriate time to say 'you put your foot in your mouth.'" Sai quipped in, looking directly at the Uchiha who scowled in anger. With the mindset of a child, Sasuke turned his cheek away from them.
That damned Itachi.
Sasuke knew there was something fishy about Itachi's extended presence around the house over the past month. For someone who took long missions back to back, his schedule had been pretty lax lately. Now the pieces fit, and Sasuke berated himself for not noticing it sooner.
Scoff. An omiai? Sasuke hadn't been aware his brother was meeting potential marriage partners, let alone contemplating settling down. With Sakura at that. It baffled him. Knowing his brother, Itachi must care for her to some extent to even take her into consideration—Sasuke didn't even think Itachi acknowledged her existence!
The younger Uchiha felt a sharp surge of betrayal as he realised his family failed to inform him about such important affairs. Itachi obliquely made a fool out of him by withholding information, and Sasuke couldn't wait to get back at him for the embarrassment he had to go through as a result.
"Did something happen during the meeting?" Sai asked.
Sakura raised her shoulders in a careless shrug. "Nothing remarkable. The atmosphere was tense, and we didn't do much other than eat."
They need not know about the awkward moment at the lake and her disastrous attempt at a conversation. She would never hear the end of it if they did
"Then what's the issue? It's not as if one meeting means you'll get married immediately."
"Exactly, Sakura-chan," Naruto tried to reassure her, "Most omiai gets cancelled if the candidates are incompatible."
Letting out a groan of despair, Sakura hit the back of her head against the trunk with a loud thud. The entire Uchiha clan had seen her walking alongside their beloved heir, and despite the family's devotion to secrecy, people are already talking about the rumoured link between she who never attended an omiai and him who was of age to get married.
Once Konoha's most avid busybodies get a hold of the possibility of their engagement, it would be the last of her quiet days. Those conniving, passive-aggressive clan women would be unto her faster than Lee's village sprint record. Their claws would strike the minute she 'steps out of her place.'
And getting engaged to Konoha's top bachelor was considered beyond stepping out of her place. It was blasphemy!
"At the end of the meeting, I overheard Mikoto-san tell my parents that they'll let them know soon if the engagement would continue as planned."
"Ehh?!" God bless Naruto. At least he understands her distress. "But you can't get engaged without your consent."
"Idiot, which progressive world do you live in?" Sasuke kicked Naruto's back, making him crash hard on the ground. The blond cursed, throwing him a dirty look, but the young Uchiha ignored him in favour of addressing Sakura. "It seems to me like you attended your pre-engagement function instead of an omiai. Your parents were there too, were they not?"
Sakura's breath stopped short.
The luncheon—breakfast; whatever it was. That was what she had been failing to catch onto all this time. It was never an omiai, to begin with. She never had a choice or fighting chance to escape in the first place. The wedding would push through with or without her consent. Sakura's opinion had never mattered.
The members of Team 7 jerked in surprise when Sakura suddenly screeched, brutally ruffling her hair as stark frustration bursted at its seams.
"Tsk," Sasuke hissed, "Why'd you do that you freak?"
Sai rubbed the length of his forefinger on his chin as he inspected the mess that she was before turning to his teammates and, in an all too serious tone, told them, "I think she has finally cracked. Perhaps we should admit her into an asylum?"
"Hn," Sasuke conceded with a scrunch of his nose.
Sakura shot them both an icy glare. "I just don't want to get married."
"Why not?" Genuine curiosity laced Naruto's voice. Sakura sighed, thinking her reasons should be obvious by now.
"Because men are egotistical, sexist pigs who believe women only belong in the kitchen and in the bedroom."
Naruto pouted. "That's mean, Sakura-chan. Some of us don't think that way, dattebayo"
"One would be ignorant to assume a handful of men is a representative of their entire gender," Sai remarked. His was voice flat, completely devoid of emotion.
Sakura parted her lips to counter their claim but shut it again when she grasped that they weren't wrong. She unjustly categorised all men as sexists, letting herself become as equally prejudiced as the rest of the society she abhorred.
"Aniki is a good person, Sakura," Sasuke commented, looking straight into her eyes to indicate his seriousness, "Don't judge my brother before you get to know him."
Feeling chagrined, she nodded and gnawed on her lip as she realised how offensive she must have been. She mustered up the courage to apologise, but trust Kakashi to interrupt her there and then, appearing in his typical fashion; with a burst of smoke and his orange book faithfully open in his hands.
"So, what did I miss?"
"You're late!" Naruto yelled as he scrambled to his feet.
Sakura let her attention get stolen by a dragonfly that whizzed past her, the rapid flap of its wings alluding to how quick her world had flipped right under nose and how equally quick she wishes she could run away.
AN:- Hello, dear readers! I apologise for taking an unnecessarily long time to upload this chapter. It wasn't intentional. The external hard drive I had saved all my writing prompts and ideas for Porcelain Heart got corrupted, and I had to wait two months to get it back. But the wait was pointless because they couldn't recover any of my files. I had to re-write this entire chapter instead of just editing the bits and pieces I had written.
Please accept this extra-long chapter as an apology :)