Sasuke got home well after 3 am, tired, annoyed, and full of nerves.
The lights in his apartment were all off, and he hoped that meant that Sakura had gone to bed, but somehow he doubted as he heard the soft sounds of Channel Five playing from his lofted bedroom. Instead of tackling his next battle, he went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He'd spent the majority of the night arguing, planning, eating, and drinking conspicuous amounts of sake and he felt like nothing to show for it aside from a growing headache.
"To celebrate your life," Obito had said, holding the ceramic cup to the light. He grinned at Sasuke. "And to mourn Motoi's."
The group of men poured liquor off the engawa and into the grass to commemorate their late partner. Killer B. stood large and silent, his wide glasses masking any true emotion that lived on the man's face.
Sasuke would be hung over in the morning and found himself still slightly drunk. He opened the refrigerator, blinking past the beer, and pulled out a curiously wrapped box of chocolates. He raised his eyebrows and leaned against the counter––had someone gifted this to Sakura? Had she left it there to make him jealous?
He cracked a slight smile, undoing the pale purple ribbon to open the box. It was still full of different types of dark chocolates, shaped in small ovals with different toppings and fixings. As he picked out one with crushed almond on top, a note fell out and slipped across the floor.
Sasuke welcomed any distraction at this point––after that long meeting, and the night of required merry-drinking and "friendship" building, he would take anything, even if it was reading a note from one of Sakura's many admirers.
So, he was surprised when he picked up a typed note with Hyuga Hinata's signature at the bottom. The message was quite long, and Sasuke read it through the fog of intoxication.
Dear Haruno-san,
Please accept my most sincere apologies for the comment I made last week. I regret that I may have hurt your feelings with such a crass, thoughtless statement––my intentions were only to understand you and your aspirations, as I hoped that we could build an acquaintanceship…and perhaps even a friendship over time...now I see that my comments were hurtful and misguided. You are a fellow woman working in a demanding environment and I never meant for my comment to demean or offend.
I find it necessary to say that even if my comment were true, I would still respect your position and the strength it takes to move through the world as visibly and as bravely as you do. While I do not wish to make excuses, the social world of Konoha is quite different from the one I grew up with, so I apologize if I may have seemed harsh or insensitive––or if I have overstepped in any way. I know how inspirational you are to young girls everywhere, and it would pain me to think that I have discredited your hard work in building the life that you have.
I do hope you can find it in your heart to accept my apology. Because of our proximity and career aspirations, I would love it if we could build a positive relationship and get to know each other a little better. However, I understand if that is something you are no longer interested in.
Please enjoy this basket of dark chocolates, made locally here in Konoha! My favorite is mint, but there is quite a range. I hope you enjoy them, and that you might come to think of this offer of sugary treats as a sweet new beginning between us.
Apologies, if corny.
Sincerely,
Hyuga, Hinata
Sasuke wrinkled his nose as he chewed. Surely, whatever his assistant had said hadn't been enough to warrant such a lengthy letter and home-delivered chocolates? They were quite delicious, by the way, and Sasuke usually wasn't one for sugary treats. He picked up another, bit into it, and looked at its green insides. Ah, the mint! Quite good, he mused, but he liked the almond one better, it had more of a bitter taste, which he preferred.
Still, it irked him that Sakura had gone out of her way to meet up with Hinata in the first place. It wasn't her place to access the performance of his workers––it was inappropriate. This, combined with the fact that Hinata had almost been killed only hours before, was certainly making him feel guilty about hiring the poor woman. Why the hell didn't she want to quit?
Sasuke turned to get more water when the lights in the kitchen flickered on. He made no expression as he felt Sakura's presence––already knew she was glaring at his back. When he turned, she was looking at the box of chocolate with anger in her eyes.
"She called me your trophy wife," Sakura hissed. Sasuke was silently surprised––that was the first thing she wanted to address? He was in for an even longer night than he thought. He'd have to call off work tomorrow just to recover.
"Are you not?" He replied, picking up another chocolate, and squishing it between his fingers––its insides were white. Hm. Coconut? He ate it. He couldn't imagine his meager assistant saying anything like that in truth, so it was best just to play along. If anything, her accountability letter suggested that it was merely a misunderstanding––some cultural confusion, or miscommunication women have.
The sake was helping him get through this conversation, so perhaps he should be grateful to the Syndicate for that.
"I might not even become your wife, Sasuke." Sakura hissed and slammed her hands on the gray stone countertop; her hands looking redder than usual. "All day, my phone is blowing up, I'm watching the news, I see you are almost killed and you can't call me back once? I can't––I can't fucking believe you!"
Sasuke leaned against the counter. He was being an asshole and he knew it––but after the days (multiple, in fact) he had, who could blame him? Could he not come home and experience peace, for once? Had he no safe spaces? He didn't receive a box of chocolates and an apology from Suigetsu, after all. Why wasn't he being comforted? Did he get no empathy for being involved in a traumatizing event?
He needed a different approach. He needed to go to bed. He needed 4 tylenol. The coke from two nights ago was still in his pocket. He certainly didn't need that.
"Listen, Sakura," he said, though he might've been slurring. "Can we talk about this in the morning? I'll call off work and we can get brunch. We can go baby shower shopping like you wanted. We can figure this shit out."
Sakura just looked at him, her bottom lip trembling. She was wearing a thin red nightgown made of satin that brought to mind stained glass windows and pomegranates. Sasuke closed his eyes––this was not where his mind needed to be.
The screams, the shattered glass, the bloody knee. The gunshots, the concrete, the indigo hair hitting his chin; it smelled, surprisingly, like citrus.
"I'm alive," Sasuke finally said, and it felt like a heavy, enduring thought. He was alive. He lived. He'd made it home, finally. "Can't you be happy that I'm here?"
Sakura nodded and glossy tears appeared at the corners of her eyes, which she swept away with the back of her hand. She went into his chest and folded herself around his body. Sasuke held her there, feeling her breathe heavily through her cries. He lowered his head.
She smelled–––different.
-:-
"How was the fundraiser?"
"Uneventful," Itachi said as he undid his tie. "It was private, so no press, thank God. I managed to leave with more endorsements."
Shisui got a pot of coffee off the counter and handed it to his friend, looking up when Itachi's silence continued. They were standing in Shisui's loft, tepid morning light filtering through Shisui's warehouse-style windows, each box bright orange like a starburst.
Itachi had stopped by before making his way into the office, as he normally did on Thursday mornings. Shisui either set an alarm to wake up for him, or stayed awake a few extra hours––with his position back at the Military Police, he sometimes took the graveyard shifts. He'd have to stop soon, though; it was frowned upon for someone of his stature. He was going to be a Captain.
Shisui watched Itachi's back as he picked up Shisui's orange cat, who gleefully curled under his chin. Shisui immediately chastised this, walking over to collect the feline, but Itachi turned away, giving him a cold shoulder
"You're going to get her fur all over yourself," Shisui said, wiping at his back. "And the press will not be so forgiving this morning. Have you spoken to Sasuke?"
Itachi sighed and shook his head curtly. He sat heavily on Shisui's couch and unbuttoned his shirt, paused, and then decided to take the whole thing off. He tossed it onto Shisui's bed––who again, chastised this––and ran a hand through his hair. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"No," Itachi said, eyes following Shisui as he went to put Itachi's shirt on a hanger and hang it from his closet door. "He won't answer any of my calls. How was the meeting last night?"
"Weird," Shisui responded. "Mikoto made a huge dinner––don't look at me like that, nobody could stop her, and believe me we tried––and Killer B. came all the way from Tokyo."
"––Killer B.? From Kumo?"
"Yes," Shisui leveled Itachi with a keen look; confused at first and then slightly guarded when he realized. "You don't know, do you? Nobody told you?"
"Told me what, Shisui?"
"Motoi was found dead shortly after meeting with Naruto and Sasuke. They found out at work, right before Sasuke left for some sort of business lunch. That's when Sasuke was targeted. Killer B. came to meet with Fugaku about next steps––seriously, 'Tachi, nobody told you?"
"No," Itachi repeated, staring hard at the floor. "So what came of the meeting? What are the next steps?"
Shisui bit his lip, tenderly sitting down beside him, his bare knee touching Itachi's clothed one. "Don't you think–––don't you think it's kind of weird you're being left out of these things?"
Itachi sent Shisui a dark look, but Shisui didn't recoil––he was used to his friend's darkness. They couldn't intimidate each other any more than they could stay away from each other. "It's…perplexing," Itachi admitted. "But I imagine they don't want me to be too stressed out. My stress is affecting Izumi, which affects the baby."
Shisui didn't even wince when Izumi was mentioned––which was big for him. He often thought of them, all growing up together, playing soccer through fields, or getting tangled in Izumi's long dark hair, or filling their cheeks with sweets, or skipping rocks, or camping, or having their first kisses––yes, all three at once––and feeling the shame afterwards (yes, all three at once). Then, teenage years: an all-boy school for Shisui and Itachi, where both their families' men had always gone, and distance from Izumi who watched them disappear.
The highschool years which were dark and clouded with Shishui's depression and struggle with sexuality, only brightened by a smile from his best friend. Of course there was some misguided fooling around; some swearing that it would never happen again. But it did––again, and again, and again, until graduation.
Then college, where they parted. Itachi overseas where he re-met Izumi, and Shisui to stay in Konoha. Once grad school rolled around, Fugaku and Mikoto saw the potential and planted ideas in Itachi's young mind. Shishui didn't bother interfering; he found solace in the clubs, in working out, in a lively dating profile. They were best friends, that was all.
It wasn't until after Itachi and Izumi's engagement, and the celebration of Itachi's new political job that the mist cleared, and Itachi looked at Shisui that night with a clarity so damning that Shisui knew that he could never return to the dating apps again. He remembered Itachi taking his hand, and leading him away. He remembered his mouth on his neck, the storage closet, the feel of his chest, the smell of his cologne, the tiny curls at the base of his head and––
"Right, of course," Shisui said, shaking his head, riding away the memories. "But I just think this is something you should've been told about, right? Sasuke is your brother and––"
"Shisui, I'm sorry but I don't have time for more conspiracy theories," Itachi said, his voice with a hard, stressed edge, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn't even look at Shisui as he said this. "Please, just tell me what happened during the meeting. I will address this matter with my father later."
Shisui's eyes eclipsed with hurt. He even sat back on the couch, his knee springing apart from Itachi's, his body angled away. Itachi saw this and reached out, but Shisui was already standing, already putting on pants from his drawer, already fetching more coffee. Always just slightly out of reach.
The way it should be. The way it should've been.
"I'm sorry, Itachi," he said, though they both knew he didn't mean it. "I know you're busy. This is what happened…"
-:-
Killer B. was a large man with a commanding presence. His blonde hair was plaited in braids and sat folded against his thick neck, and his lips rested in a displeased sort of scowl. His eyes were hidden by chrome glasses; unknown to them.
He ate and talked with them with great respect, bowing low to Mikoto as she left the room. He didn't talk about business until it was appropriate, and even sounded emotional when he spoke of his dead friend. Apparently, Yugito, one of the women from the Kumo Syndicate found Motoi dead with a senbon needle in his arm. She took the needle with her and called the police, who were overly casual, and suggested an overdose.
The City Morgue would not give the details of what caused Motoi's death to anyone who was not family, but Shisui would start working on that soon. In the meantime, it was lucky that Killer B. still had the needle––and it wasn't empty.
"I think it's poison," he told them, taking the needle out of an iron box after they'd finished dinner and the table was cleared. "And assassins. Poison and assassins. And if we don't want our blood dirtied too, we'd better find an anecdote."
"A poison assessment could help us find the source," Sasuke said, staring at the slick needle. "However, in these conditions I'm not sure who is worth trusting. The hospitals are especially protective of their Hokage given her experience and kind donations."
Killer B. fixed Sasuke with a look, turning his entire, large body, "You think the Hokage is in on this?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Shikamaru said evenly. "It's better to avoid government suspicion no matter how you spin it. Even if it was a spy––shitty job they did, leaving fluid."
"Motoi is in the Bingo Book," Shisui said, pulling from Military Police data he'd memorized. "So a government entity would have their reasons."
Fugaku didn't look convinced. He folded his hands under his chin, thinking. "So what now?" He asked them all. "We focus on the poison? That seems far too simple."
"Maybe not," Shikamaru cut in, again. "Poisons can get complicated, so we'd need the right person to look into it, especially since we've only got one drop," he said, gesturing to the needle that was laid on the table. "And we can't waste it. Luckily, I've heard of a woman from the Suna Syndicate who is well versed in those arts."
Heads turned to Shikamaru appreciatively. He'd just spent the last month and a half strengthening their relationship with that family, and it was already paying off.
"Would she help us?"
Shikamaru shrugged, watching disinterested as one of the men went around pouring sake into hand-held ceramic cups to usher in the second part of the evening. "I dunno. She's old––the matriarch––and she retired in Italy. According to Temari, she can be hard to reach but I heard she's having a birthday party we might be able to crash."
"That's decided," Killer B. said, causing Fugaku to look over with a twitch of his eyebrow. "We'll go to Eruope, then."
"Hell yeah, we'll go to Europe," Naruto said, raising his cup.
Sasuke rolled his eyes and sat still. The whole thing seemed overly complicated, but he supposed that this was important––one of their main contacts had just been killed, after all.
"Killer B., with all due respect, I think it's best you let us handle this," Fugaku said, his tone flat, but polite. He was a vision of diplomacy, even with a handgun tucked into his waistband. "Suna is our ally––I don't think they would take too kindly to the Kumo family showing up and making demands."
"Fair enough," Killer B. said, leveling with him. "But just know, if I don't see results, we will have to take matters into our own hands."
"Understood," Fugaku said. The two men shook on it.
Everyone drank, as was customary after an agreement was made. Sasuke tasted the bitter alcohol on his tongue and tried to stay present, though the day was weighing heavily on him. He drank more when he saw Naruto giving him a sympathetic look out of the corner of his eye. Business first.
"Do you think the same guy tried to kill Sasuke?" Killer B. asked.
"No," Sasuke said plainly, though after he said it, he wasn't really sure. He didn't know what type of tricks Suigetsu had, and maybe his revenge plot was more serious than Sasuke had made it out to be.
"We've got a lot of enemies," Obito said sardonically. "We Uchiha aren't so great at making friends."
Fugaku merely waved a hand, disregarding the questions. The question of the attack on Sasuke was better kept among the clan, and with no one else. "Shisui is leading that investigation for us; if we find any similarities you will be the first to know."
Killer B. nodded, understanding the inner-workings of the Syndicate. Some things just weren't for everybody. As long as he got what he came for, he would be satisfied.
An hour or so later of drinking and conversation, the men slowly began to leave the Boroughs for their homes. Sasuke felt the warmth of the sake in his belly as he stepped out into the humid August air. His father stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder right before he would've dropped off the engawa and into the grass like a little boy. The jump had always been his favorite part.
"Father?" He said, turning. He even managed to not feel annoyed––thank the Gods for sake.
Fugaku looked over at him, his slightly ruffled shirt paired with his impeccably ironed slacks and unscuffed shoes painted a picture of the type of day he'd had. He patted his son's shoulder once more, saying: "Give your assistant my thanks. I'm happy you're alive.
That was the kindest Fugaku had been to Sasuke in a very long time.
-:-
"Rome?!" Sakura exclaimed, stars in her eyes. The two of them sat in a dark corner of a brunch restaurant, slowly making their way through piles of food. Beside them were five massive bags––all luxury childcare items that Sakura had picked out from her favorite Baby Boutiques. Sasuke hadn't even known such things existed, let alone that Sakura had favorites. But he simply couldn't concern himself with that fact––not yet, anyway.
"Mhm," he said casually. He was wearing sunglasses like he was in hiding, but in reality he was just dreadfully hungover. When he woke up to Sakura talking business with her father over Facetime, he felt like his face was going to explode. He went to the kitchen and popped more Tylenol, and took the quiet time to email Hinata to inform her that he would be out for the day. He suggested that she take off too, which she'd hesitated on, before gracefully accepting in that soft way of hers.
"I don't know why you're so excited," Sasuke said, voice flat. "You've been there fifty times."
"Well, yeah, but we've never gone together––"
"Need I remind you that Shikamaru, Naruto, and Hinata are going?" Sasuke rubbed his temples, anticipating some sort of negative response, so he was quick to finish his thought before Sakura could get a word in. "I don't expect the conference to be very interesting, but we might meet new contacts."
In two weeks there would be an international conference for corporate law, which coincided with Chiyo's 75th birthday party. Somehow, Uchiha, Uzumaki & Associates had found themselves nominated for an award: Best Small Practice, or some shit. Sasuke didn't care, but it made for a good cover up. He'd have to bring his staff to keep up appearances, and strangely, that included Hinata.
Strange, because he never considered bringing Karin anywhere. But with Hinata there at the conference, taking it seriously, he knew that the company would be well represented in case he was met with…distractions.
Sakura sipped her drink slowly, blinking in surprise. "This trip isn't about just a conference is it?"
Sasuke tapped his fingers on the table, inclining his head. "Of course not. I will fill you in at home."
He didn't like to keep his fiancée out of things that concerned her––he wasn't stupid, and neither was Sakura. When they finally married, it was assumed that she would become far more involved in Syndicate affairs, but for now, he told her what he could and she accepted it. Aside from her computer meddling, Yakuza affairs hadn't affected her personal life very much at all.
Just how Sasuke liked it. Happy wife, happy life––or whatever those jaded men said.
An. uchiha centered transition chapter. yayy