Chapter Text
For the first month, it merely felt like Tomoe had moved alone to Itachi’s family’s house, instead of marrying him. Apart from having problems answering someone’s calling her Uchiha Tomoe instead of going by the name she was given, she tried for everything to go as smoothly as possible as she waited for their new house to be finished.
Itachi went to the house every day to get everything done before they moved, and his parents apologized to Tomoe countless times because it wasn’t ready yet for them to have some privacy. Sometimes Sasuke accompanied his brother to lend him a hand.
The season had just changed. Mikoto and Fugaku were both worried that winter would shortly arrive and perhaps the newlyweds wouldn’t have the time to adapt properly. Adjusting to a new lifestyle in the wintertime is hard. The older couple knew it well when they married in early January years before.
After the wedding ceremony by the end of September, Tomoe used to sit on the engawa a lot in early October, when the days still had some feeble grasp on the summer’s warmth. It felt relieving to feel the breeze smelling faintly like sunny days and the walks by the riverside. It gave her a sense of having things that hadn’t changed along with her marital status. The leaves still turned red, falling like every year.
The very first days, when Itachi was mostly present and engaged with Tomoe in the new house matters, such as style and decoration, before he could work on it, were the days when she had to learn to live in the same house he grew up in and lived all his life with his family. She felt like a fish out of the water. Sasuke was always a little moody if Itachi wasn’t around, and Fugaku was a man of fewer words than his older son. Yet she found solace in Mikoto, who always did everything in her power to make her feel as comfortable as possible, and Sakura, who visited the estate more often than not with the excuse of always having new commands from Hatake Kakashi for Team 7. Tomoe knew the only reason for the visits was that she could see Sasuke, but appreciated the efforts of the pink-haired girl concerning her well-being as a new wife.
The other presence was Uchiha Shisui, whom she found very enjoyable.
The man walked into the Uchiha estate for the first time a month after the wedding—a bouquet full of white roses from the Yamanaka flower shop in hand. Tomoe was seated by the engawa as she waited for Mikoto to fetch a piece of Itachi’s uniform that needed occasional mending. She smiled politely upon seeing Shisui. Mikoto emerged through the shoji doors holding Itachi’s green vest jacket, identical to his father’s.
“Shisui! I didn't know you were already back!”
Shisui walked a few steps and stopped next to the engawa where Tomoe was sitting.
“I came back earlier than expected,” Shisui mirrored her polite, small smile as he glanced at her. “Here to visit Itachi’s wife.”
Tomoe took a few seconds to realize he was talking about her.
“Oh… me?”
“Yes,” he nodded and extended the bouquet to her with a friendly smile. “This is for you.”
Mikoto grinned. Her dark-onyx eyes, the same color Tomoe was getting used to seeing in her husband’s eyes, disappeared as the corner of her lips went higher and her eyelids met her waterline. Tomoe accepted the white roses with deep-rosy hues on her burning cheeks. It was the first present she received from a member of the clan. It was a nice gesture.
“Thank you, Shisui-san,” she slightly bowed her head and smelled the roses. “They smell good.”
Shisui grinned.
“You don't have to be so formal around me. I’m like Itachi’s nii-san. He calls me nii-san most of the time.”
Tomoe smiled awkwardly at that. She didn’t think she could feel comfortable behaving toward every clan member as if she were born Uchiha. But she also wanted to consider Shisui’s words. Perhaps the reason she was feeling so out of place was the way she was keeping everyone at arm’s length. She acted just like her great-grandfather, keeping them distant. Shisui’s words made her realize she didn’t want that.
“Okay, Shisui-sa–” Tomoe corrected herself before she could finish it, “Shisui.”
Mikoto and Shisui laughed. Tomoe blushed harder, clutching the roses to her chest with all due care not to crumple the pieces.
“Itachi is not here yet,” said Mikoto. “His presence at the Hokage’s office was requested by Sondaime-sama.”
Shisui’s brows raised, and Tomoe’s attention spiked up. It was only natural that a wife should be curious about the things concerning her husband. It gave her a sense of purpose while adjusting to the new life—she didn’t have much to do, so it was better to get to know things about the man she was going to share a futon with until her last day.
Tomoe blinked rapidly.
The thought of sharing something so private as where she rested after a long day never crossed her mind. Itachi usually crashed on the common area’s futon instead of going to disrupt Tomoe’s sleep. She knew they never slept together because the place where he was supposed to lie was always neat in the morning, exactly how she remembered it before she went to sleep.
“The Sondaime?” He frowned. “I thought it would stop happening since we left the ANBU. It has been years.”
Mikoto sympathized with her firstborn’s best friend's reaction. The elders had already caused too much trouble for the youngest.
“I think Sondaime-sama only wants to make sure he is okay. There is nothing to be worried about.”
Tomoe thought about the billion possibilities for the Sondaime Hokage’s desire to know if Itachi was okay. Apart from knowing everything about the Uchihas and even about the prodigy her husband is, she didn’t know things concerning the way he lived in Konohagakure. All she knew was about the past his clan had with her own, and things the other four great Shinobi Countries knew about him as well. She was out for too long to have known what happened in her birthplace.
“I will talk to Itachi when I have the chance. Today I came here for Tomoe-san,” Shisui turned to Tomoe and smiled again, being a little more formal, exactly the way he asked her not to be. She noticed it seemed like he smiled quite often. “I hope you feel welcome here. Don't worry about Itachi. He’s a good guy.”
When Shisui left, Tomoe asked Mikoto if she had a spare vase for the flowers. She guaranteed it was only until she went to the market to buy one, but got dismissed by the older woman. Mikoto handed Itachi’s jacket to her, disappearing behind the shoji doors. Tomoe held the bouquet in one hand and Itachi’s clothing in the other, thinking about Shisui’s visit. He had been nothing but gracious.
Tomoe looked down at the green piece of Military clothing in her hand. It had visible usage marks and some stains. Upon touching the material, a smell she slowly started to memorize rushed through her nostrils. It smelled like wood in springtime and embers. She thought it couldn’t have been different for a user of a style the same as his.
Mikoto came back with an earthenware vase colored red and handed it to Tomoe, who, in turn, placed it full of white roses on the engawa beside where she would be fixing Itachi’s jacket. She planned it to be placed next to her futon until the petals started to fall.
Itachi got home two hours after Tomoe’s bedtime. She was fast asleep when he entered the room to pick up fresh clothes. Itachi made almost no noise and left without looking back—not before he noticed the vase full of white roses next to Tomoe’s futon. After a much-awaited bath, he found Sasuke still awake, sitting on the engawa, when he placed the damp bath towel to dry on the clothesline. His brother’s clothes were already the ones he used to sleep in, but his face showed no signs that he intended to rest soon. Sasuke had his upper body against one of the timber frames.
“How are things in the house going?”
Itachi hung the towel, walked to Sasuke, and sat by his side.
“Almost done. I think we will be moving out in a few days.”
Sasuke nodded and looked at the sky. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help today. The Yondaime handed Kakashi-sensei a new mission. I will be traveling when you move out.”
“It’s okay, Sasuke,” Itachi smiled. “Maybe next time.”
Itachi serenely laughed, thinking about the old times when he used to be so busy with the ANBU and Shisui that he barely had any time to be with his brother. Sasuke sighed. The blame ate him alive, and he didn’t know how to take that weight off his shoulders—knowing very well Itachi, of all people, would be the last one to put that blame on him to carry. Sometimes Sasuke wondered how things would have gone if Itachi had never told him about their clan’s plans—if he hadn’t interfered the way he did.
Would his brother be happier then?
“What about Izumi-chan?” Sasuke’s voice was in the lowest tone Itachi had ever heard.
“She will be okay,” Itachi muttered.
Itachi loathed those words but did not comment any further. He could grasp a piece of Sasuke’s sentiments regarding his matrimony—he had no desire to worsen the situation.
“Do you regret it?”
He sighed. Itachi knew what Sasuke was getting so conflicted about. He wondered if there was ever an option none of them would feel burdened. But no matter what different paths he tried to picture, it always ended with at least one of them having to make a hard choice, a sacrifice. Itachi would rather it be him than Sasuke.
“If I weren’t who I am, maybe,” Itachi looked at his younger brother. “But I am satisfied enough, Sasuke. You don’t have to worry about your older brother. Leave that for me, would you?”
Sasuke wasn’t satisfied with his brother’s short reply. Although it wasn’t enough, he decided, at least for that night, that a few words would have to do, though. He would leave Konohagakure soon and didn’t want to do it if he knew he could not fully concentrate on the mission if his thoughts were anywhere else but with him. It would do no good for Kakashi, Sakura, and Naruto. And it certainly would do no good for him either.
For years throughout their childhood, Yamanaka Ino thought Haruno Sakura’s obsession with Uchiha Sasuke consisted of some kind of childish feeling—even if she was smitten herself. It felt like a contest. Some kind of never-ending race for territory dominance over the coolest boy at the Academy. Somehow, the years ran faster than Ino realized. The more they both grew up, the more she felt curiosity growing inside from how Sakura never seemed to let those supposed childish feelings go.
They gathered at Ichiraku to talk and laugh about Naruto’s birthday party and to say goodbye before Team 7 went on another mission. Shikamaru hissed at the talking blonde whilst Choji ate everything he could fill his mouth with. Usually, Ino would have commented on Choji’s eating habits just to see Shikamaru stressing out. But the way the pink-haired girl left her ramen bowl untouched, mirroring Sasuke, intrigued her. Ino poked Sakura’s side, but she ignored it. Her gaze was solely on the quiet guy—a stark contrast to the Uzumaki kid by his side.
“It’s going to get cold,” Ino murmured. “Lukewarm ramen must taste horrible.”
Sakura’s eyebrows creased. “I’m not hungry.”
“Stop staring at Sasuke-kun, then. Dumb-face.”
“Eh?!” Sasuka’s eyes bulged. “I’m not staring!”
Ino pursed her lips. She would have used her Shintenshin on Sasuke just so she could know what his sorrowful expression was all about and put an end to the agony of having to see Sakura’s ugly, sad face, but knew better than to try. He would have caught her the moment she looked his way. Perhaps he already knew what she and Sakura were talking about.
Ino looked at Ichiraku’s curtains the moment she felt another presence. A woman she recognized as Uchiha Mikoto entered alongside another she had never seen before. The redhead held an empty glass flower vase to her chest.
Even if nobody had told her, Ino would have known who the woman by Mikoto’s side was. She looked at Sakura, who was already looking in the same direction.
“Okaasan,” Sasuke said. “Tomoe-san. What are you doing here?”
The chatting between the teens subsided. Ino saw one of Shikamaru’s eyebrows rise. Choji did not stop eating.
“We were at the market and I decided to give Tomoe something to eat. She hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
“Why is that?”
“I was settling the last details of the house with Itachi, Sakura-chan. I also needed a new vase for Shisui-san’s welcoming flowers, so I came to the market.”
Ino recalled the day Uchiha Shisui left the Yamanaka flower shop with a bouquet of white roses.
“Are the flowers still good?” Ino asked. It had been a few days. “Shisui-sensei bought it at my family’s flower shop a few days ago.”
“Yes,” Tomoe nodded and smiled. “I hope they can endure the nuisance of moving out. They’re very beautiful flowers.”
“Where’s Itachi?” Sasuke asked with a slightly sour mood.
Mikoto answered first. She knew how to deal with her youngest son better than anyone there—well, she was the one to give birth to him. “At his house, Sasuke. He says he will miss you when you’re off on your mission.”
Sasuke kept silent as he felt his cheeks burn. Everybody kept silent upon seeing the scene unfold—his mother left with her daughter-in-law after ordering two takeaway ramen bowls, like she hadn’t put him in the most nefarious situation of his life toward his friends.
Sakura managed to smile a little then.
There weren’t many things the newlyweds had to move to the new house. Tomoe realized Itachi had just a little more stuff than herself.
The flowers did not survive, sadly.
After Tomoe emptied her boxes, she debated whether she should empty Itachi’s boxes as well. They were stacked on the engawa, each one with its name written on it. She decided to take them inside since the sky was gray—it would be bad if it started to rain. She decided to put everything in its place, so he could have a chance to change anything he wanted to change when he had time, and his things would not still be inside the boxes.
The first box guarded his family photos from the harsh movements of moving. Tomoe didn’t want to feel like she was intruding on something so personal, but couldn’t help gazing at the first small wooden frame, protecting a picture of a young Itachi and an even younger Sasuke. Her husband didn’t change much, she thought, apart from the childish lines he had back then—even the deep lines he had from the top of his nose to the middle of his cheeks were there, but smaller. Sasuke, on the other hand, had rosy flushes on his cheeks and a look of innocence in his eyes. They were very much alike in physical traits. Both were adorable kids.
The next frame held a photo of Mikoto beside Sasuke and Itachi beside Fugaku—they all had small smiles on their faces, apart from Sasuke, who smiled so big his eyes disappeared. There was another frame below, one Itachi was alone. He wore his full Police Officer uniform and had a solemn look on his face. Even though his Sharingan was not activated, it felt like an impossible task to dart her eyes from the picture.
She wondered if it was the same as when he would cast a Genjutsu on an opponent. Moreover, she wondered if she could be considered some kind of opponent to him.
Tomoe decided it was enough of prying. She put Itachi’s photos beside the very few of her own and started to fold his clothes. She blushed deep burgundy like her hair when he had to put his underwear neatly in his part of the wardrobe. Once everything was in its rightful place, Tomoe took the time she had left before Itachi came back from the headquarters to walk through the house.
It felt a little empty, but she did everything in her power to make it feel a little bit warmer. She made a mental note that it still had a long way to go until it was filled with meaningful things and considered a home. Perhaps a few plants on the engawa to complete the green of the small garden.
Upon seeing the final result of everything that had been done in the house, Tomoe thought back to when Itachi gave her the autonomy to participate in the process of creating the space where they would be living from that day on. The right side of her lips was a little bit higher in the smallest of smiles.
It was a beautiful house.
Small enough for only two people, but close enough to the river that she could hear the water and smell the droplets that landed on the grass.
Tomoe wished someday it could also be a home.
“Is it to your liking?”
Her husband’s baritone made her jolt and hiccup. She felt mortified as she looked back at him. He was wearing the same uniform as he was in the picture she had been snooping moments before, and she had to fight the urge to blush upon noticing it.
Itachi’s proximity was unnoticeable, something she suspected he mastered long ago.
Tomoe nodded, still dying from mortification. “It’s better than I imagined,” she gave another brief look around, not sure if to register everything or just avoid his gaze. “Thank you, Itachi-san.”
She made a mental note to thank Sasuke later, too. The younger boy had his part in everything.