Note: This is pretty short compared to what I usually post, but it doesn't easily combine with what I need to write next. I hadn't intended on writing this chapter at all, to be honest. It's one of those necessary plot builders. I know people are eager to get back to Itachi, but since this story has expanded a little, I have to tie up some loose ends before he reenters the scene.
The door shut behind him with a soft tap, sounding much louder than he wanted it to in the silent house. All the lights were off, but he could trace his way through the entire floor plan blindfolded without bumping into a single thing.
Leaving his shoes by the door, he floated like a ghost through the shadows, head tilted towards the floor. Mind recycling over and over again the conversion he just had. How unfinished it seemed, despite having said exactly what he meant.
He wanted to let it go, but he couldn't. It was one of the reasons he took so long returning home. Deciding to take a long, leisurely walk while his mind settled. Or tried to settle.
It wasn't so straightforward, but few things were…especially now. He wasn't even sure if the rattled feeling in his gut was solely related to Sakura. She wasn't the only one acting strange. This whole evening had been uneasy between Itachi and their father.
Whatever was going on, he was tired of once again feeling like the only one out of the loop.
"You're home late. I didn't know you went out." The words spoken in that familiar baritone set him on a razor edge so rapidly, he slammed his toes into the corner of a chair when he jerked around.
A curse hissed under his breath. Sharp pain collided with shock.
So much for being graceful.
The nebulous silhouette of his father sitting in a chair, shrouded in darkness, took shape across from him.
Sasuke stared speechless. Thoughts like a shogi board that had been tossed into the wall, with all the pieces scattered senseless.
"Otousan… I thought you were already in bed."
"I was."
The short answer left Sasuke grappling for the right response. As the common theme went, his father was a difficult one to read when he wanted to be…which was frequently. It was no secret that both he and Itachi inherited the trait–or skill–from him.
Neither of them pulled off the stony indifference quite like him, though. No matter how convincing, it was rarely ever true indifference. That was the thing that made Sasuke apprehensive.
"Where did you go?" The question sounded neutral. Conversational, even.
There was no reason for him to lie, but that was a fortunate convenience. After 16 years, Sasuke knew better than to even attempt to deceive his own father. It was a gamble with a steep consequence that rarely ever paid off.
One could expect nothing less from the captain of the military police and the head of their own clan.
That didn't mean he would have to divulge the intimate details, though.
"I went to Sakura's. We needed to talk about something."
"It couldn't wait until tomorrow?" Another question, just as neutral as the first.
Sasuke knew better.
This time, he hesitated. Unable to match the neutrality as the awkwardness of the subject matter loomed over him like a wet blanket.
"I…had already waited longer than I should have." He spoke slowly, guilt tainting his words.
The silhouette didn't respond. It was easier to make out the details of him now, lounging comfortably in his chair. It would have been far less eerie if he'd only left a light on. He was in his robe, elbow on the armrest with two fingers propped against his temple.
"There was something I needed to…apologize for. I thought I should just…stop wasting time and get it over with." He finished what he hoped would be the extent of his explanation, and waited out the silence.
To his surprise, Fugaku smiled. It was almost impossible to see in the dark, but it was there.
"Ah." The small object in his lap lifted to his mouth. It took Sasuke a minute to realize he was holding a cup of tea. Then the waft of mild chamomile and lavender reached his nose.
"The older we get, the more we find ourselves apologizing to women."
The note of humor didn't slip past Sasuke, but he couldn't bring himself to do more than snort quietly in amusement. He couldn't relax enough to trust the conversation would remain benign.
It's not that he had anything in particular to fear. There was simply the ever-present expectation of pleasing his father that hung in the background. Like the shadow of a noose on the wall, even if there was no tangible noose to be found. It was a dynamic he'd never been able to break free from, unlike Itachi.
"How is Sakura?" This time, the question had a hint of genuine curiosity. Sasuke only knew the difference now because he had years to pick up on his nuances.
"She's…a little overworked right now. I think. The, uhm…conversation went alright, though."
Fugaku nodded slowly, resting the cup against his chest while he leaned back.
"I like her." He mused aloud, gazing thoughtfully past his son, "It's a shame she isn't an Uchiha."
Sasuke's mouth parted slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion. The intention of the comment evaded him, and he found himself unsure how to react.
"What do you mean…?" He asked hesitantly.
His father stewed quietly. Attention elsewhere, and far enough away that he seemed not to hear him at first. His thumb followed the rim of the steaming cup in his hand absently.
"Hm… I mean that our clan would be stronger if she were a part of it."
A simple clarification that on the surface seemed not to allude to anything more.
Sasuke sensed there was something to read between the lines.
"Oh… Yeah, I guess it would be." He agreed, watching his father more carefully now. Not that it would grant him any insight the man wasn't willing to reveal. Least of all in a dark room that made the subtle changes in his expression even more difficult to read.
It did nothing to prepare him for the heavy implication in the next question.
"What is your relationship with her?"
It was so calm and casual, like Sasuke should have expected it to be the natural progression of their talk.
Sasuke did not expect it, but Sasuke did find a way to choke on his own spit when he inhaled.
The rim of the cup touched his bottom lip when he heard the small noise. Fugaku glanced at his son, watching him turn slightly and cough. He stayed quiet enough not to wake anyone else, but with obvious difficulty.
"We're–we're just…teammates." He answered, and cleared his throat.
It was dark, yes…but not so dark that his father couldn't see his eyes cast away in discomfort. While he was distracted, Fugaku smirked.
"Just teammates…" The words echoed back to him wryly, and he understood the connotation. His father didn't believe him. Were he anyone else, Sasuke would have shut down the conversation firmly and with ease, but that wasn't an option here. His father commanded respect and transparency. Any kind of evasion just guaranteed him an even brighter spotlight.
'Well… Even if that is the case, you're getting old enough for your perspective to start changing on that front."
Though he was relieved to hear his father fill the silence with enough tact not to make him feel too uncomfortable, Sasuke was starting to wish the shadows would just swallow him whole. The dark room was suddenly not dark enough.
"There is more to life than being shinobi. You have plenty of time before you need to be making serious decisions, but you should begin considering the qualities you value in a wife now."
Sasuke stared off into space. Eyes wider than he realized. His father might have assumed he was lost in thought, stewing over what he just said. In truth, Sasuke was considering how next time he needed to run a late errand, he would simply stay out all night long. That way, he'd never suffer through another embarrassing ambush like this again.
His internal death was slow and painful, and his cheeks were uncharacteristically warm.
"Uhm…" He blinked with effort, realizing how dry his eyes were getting, "I…understand…where you're coming from."
With a tilt, Fugaku resumed leaning his temple against two fingers. Patiently waiting for his son to finish spitting out the words he was scrambling to find. He found the situation far more amusing than he let on, but none of this was out of spite. It was about time the subject was broached, and he always favored ripping off the bandaid when possible.
"But, actually…" He gave a short, somewhat nervous laugh, "If we're talking about Sakura… I think she's a lot more interested in Itachi."
The smirk sank down, disappearing before it could even be noticed. The calm eyes watching his son hardened.
Sasuke didn't notice. The details would have been too subtle from where he was standing, anyway.
Calloused fingertips trailed down the side of his face and over his lips with a shift of his head. It was Fugaku's turn to glance away in thought.
"That does explain some things."
It was the tone of his voice that brought Sasuke's attention back to him. There was a slight, disquieting drop. As if he'd said one of the last things his father wanted to hear.
Fugaku sat brooding in silence, head turned while his fingers scratched along the stubble around his mouth. Aware of the fixed gaze his son had set on him. He was a man who guarded his words. Never one to speak carelessly. Something his dual positions of responsibility helped to instill over the years, through trial and error.
"Do you think the interest is returned?"
The question brought flashes of unwanted memories to Sasuke's mind. Ones of Itachi with his face buried between Sakura's legs. The disaster on the training ground afterward, and all the raw emotions it unraveled.
"Uhm… Maybe. I'm not sure."
The dark eyes snapped perceptively to Sasuke at his vague response, and he felt a twinge of uneasiness. As if he'd somehow been caught in a lie.
But how did he know?!
"Yes." The correction blurted quickly, and sharper than he meant it to. Why was it his job to have this conversation, anyway? He just wanted to go to bed, not be prodded about his teammate.
His father studied him a moment, and then glanced away again.
"I see."
Ah, great. So he gets away with being as vague as he wants, while Sasuke feels like a pinned insect on display under a magnifying glass. He was too tired for this right now.
A soft, defeated sigh fell from his son, but he didn't speak again. He waited for more questions to target him, but as the seconds climbed into a minute, he was met with stillness. As much as he wanted to know what was going through his father's head, he couldn't begin to guess.
"Alright.. I'm…gonna head to bed, I guess." He mumbled hesitantly, unable to bask in the silence any longer.
He turned and managed a single step towards the hall when he heard his father behind him.
"There is one thing we need to discuss."
Sasuke froze, assaulting the dim hallway tunneling before him with a half-lidded, grumpy glare before swiveling back around to face him.
"It won't take long." Fugaku added in reassurance, though his voice sounded heavier. As though it was a conversation he didn't want to have himself.
He took one last sip of his cooling tea to wet his mouth, and then set the cup on the small table next to him.
"Your brother has made it clear that he no longer wishes to participate in our clan meetings. This is a subject we have revisited many times with no resolution. Simply put, he has priorities that do not align with our own, and is abdicating his position as future head of our clan."
Ripping off the bandaid indeed.
Whatever expression left on his taut face went slack. Sasuke stared quietly, both in surprise and in wait for him to continue. This must have been where all that tension had been coming from earlier. Tonight wasn't the first night, but it was the most palpable it had been in a while..
"I need you to step up in his place."
There wasn't an immediate answer. Fugaku glanced at him skeptically, able to take in the dazed, if not lost look in the dark.
"Ah… Uhm… Soo…" Once again his eyes strained too long without blinking. Busy navigating the maze of his own mind as he tried to digest the news fast enough to give a legitimate response.
He couldn't do it. His thoughts and feelings melded together and shifted like an abstract kaleidoscope. Never maintaining one disposition for long. Unsure of how he was even supposed to feel.
"I…" He nodded quickly, snapping himself from his fumble, "Of course. I'll do whatever needs to be done."
His father considered him with a keen eye, and then returned the nod with a single, nearly imperceptible one of his own.
"That is…a refreshing attitude. Thank you, Sasuke."
He watched his father rise from the chair, taking the cup with him as he made his way towards the kitchen. Sasuke let him pass without tearing his distracted gaze from the empty seat left behind. Still trying to process what this meant, and how it might change his own future. There were too many unknowns and unanswered questions on the playing field.
"Our next meeting will be a week from today. Make sure your schedule is clear after eighteen-hundred. This one will be longer than usual while we bring you up to speed." The cup was dumped in the sink, and he stepped quietly into the hall behind his son. Voice dropping even lower in an effort not to wake anyone.
"Are you and Itachi…okay?"
Sasuke's question caught him off guard, and he paused mid-turn to glance back at him. He mulled over it for a minute, and then released a deep sigh.
"Itachi…will always be my son. He will always be part of this family. We've had some…irreconcilable differences in both our visions for our clan's future, and his level of involvement in that future."
The explanation manifested more questions than it answered, but Sasuke didn't press him for details. There was a greater chance he'd irritate him, than actually extract all the information he really wanted to know.
Though chances are, his own understanding would begin piecing itself together next week.
He nodded, and felt his father's hand close down on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He watched him turn and drift silently down the hall towards his bedroom without another word. Leaving him alone in the murky shadows.
Sasuke collapsed down into the chair his father had been using, and stared into space. Suddenly feeling the pull of sleep dangle frustratingly out of reach.