music in the midst of desolation

by TakaGang

Summary:

They promised they'd stay together until the very end.
No more Uchiha will die---not this time.
AU. Fugaku and Mikoto awaken again, before their killer was even born.

Chapter 1: Take Us Back

Fugaku doesn't expect to open his eyes, not now, not ever again. 

The last thing he felt was overwhelming dread when he heard the pitter patter of his youngest son's feet. Sasuke shouldn’t have been home so early. A cold fear rushed down his spine. 

He shouldn’t see this. 

 Fugaku remembers as he knelt beside his wife, and waited for death. The grief washes over him, sinking into his bones. Even if they had been disloyal, they didn’t deserve to go like that. As clan head, Fugaku knew it all would lay at his own feet. 

He didn’t want his family to be punished too. 

For a long time, Fugaku has been prepared to die. He hadn’t wanted to die, but as a shinobi he has long been prepared for it. 

Nothing could prepare him for Mikoto to also die in front of him. 

She was too strong, unmoveable, and yet she remained by his side. 

The ache burns and boils deep within his stomach. He shakes, and tries to stop. Tears build, but Fugaku refuses to let them fall. He’d cried enough. There’s no solving things through crying.  

The Uchiha clan died with their leaders. It’s his fault , even with so much out of his control. Fugaku felt every flicker of chakra being extinguished. He hadn’t thought the village would be so cruel. 

Why kill them all ?

Were the Uchiha all Madara in their eyes?

They thought Itachi had orders for them, just them. That made the most sense.  Historically, killing the head family would be enough. Sasuke would be spared if not from their begging they hoped his age would help. Itachi loves him. They both believed that wholeheartedly that Itachi wouldn’t kill his brother. 

How could the Hokage send their son?

When Itachi was born early, Fugaku rubbed his small fragile chest to help him breathe. 

They sent his heir, their son. Fugaku wants to tear out his hair. He can’t control his own shaking. 

Why couldn’t they send anyone else but him?

Fugaku felt his ribs snap and break as his son's sword thrust through his chest. The pain was immense as his blood pooled around his feet. It spread across his body like a shockwave until everything went numb. It hurt even more as it was pulled out, and that same bloody sword was turned on Mikoto. 

Itachi swung his blade with those small delicate hands. 

Knowing that hurt the most. 

He remembers dying, and nothing after that. It felt real. Fugaku feels his chest, but there’s nothing there. There is no gaping bloody wound, just skin, more unblemished than it’s been in a long time.  When he rubs that spot on his chest, he can still feel the sword. Fugaku doesn’t quite know where he is. 

Fugaku knows why Itachi was given the order. It couldn’t be anyone, but him. The others would have hesitated to strike. Fugaku pleaded with Mikoto to spare their son. He couldn’t do it himself, but couldn’t stand to see it stain his wife either. No matter how much she claimed she would, Fugaku still doesn’t know if she could’ve brought herself to fight him either. 

He should be dead. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be. 

Pinching his skin does nothing. His attempts to break any genjutsu prove fruitless.  His sharingan activates, but it finds no tricks. 

For all intents and purposes, his mind is convinced this place is real.  

This bed, this room, is not his own. It's strangely familiar, for all he doesn't recognize. The moonlight streaming through his window gently lights the room. The trees outside are distinctly from Konoha. He’s dressed in a soft yukata that looks like one he lost before the war. 

For whatever reason,the god’s saw fit to pull him out of his worst nightmare. 

That doesn’t make things any more clear. 

Fugaku sits up, looking around the room. There’s a tapestry that shouldn’t be there. His great aunt stitched it, but Fugaku distinctly remembers it burned when the Kyuubi was released.

It feels like his childhood bedroom. That’s impossible since that compound had long been destroyed. 

He doesn’t know what to do next. 

 This is an impossible situation, that can’t possibly be real. 

Mercifully, he isn't alone for long.  Mikoto silently climbs through his window. He can’t do anything but stare at the sight of his wife looking at least twelve years younger.  She quickly crawls into his bed. Her sharingan whirls, as she studies him. Her bangs frame her face, making her slender face look rounder and more like her sister’s. Mikoto grew those out after Itachi was born. 

She says, “It’s you…I know it’s you.: Her fingers hesitate to touch his face, “tell me I’m not alone here.”

His clan died. Fugaku died beside his wife. The Gods couldn’t be so merciful. 

This can’t be real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. 

All he can say are apologies. 

“I'm sorry…” Fugaku whispers, “I'm sorry I couldn't be better for us…so it didn't have to come to this.”

He naively believed the children would be spared. They did nothing. They knew nothing. 

The village will think of him as some power hungry madman. He served loyally, even with whispers of coup. Fugaku loved his village, and wanted to stay and fight for it. It was a doomed plan from the start, but it was all they had. 

He loves his family more than the village, and he failed them. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I don’t even care why it happened.” Mikoto says quietly, “I’m just too happy. I didn’t want to die…I still don’t.”

“I heard you fall first.” Fugaku says, “ I couldn’t look.”

The village sentenced them to death. Their plans for a coup had been found out, and the village sought a solution. They're not supposed to be alive. 

Mikoto speaks even as her voice shakes,“I'm enraged. I am so angry and I don't know who to be more angry at.”

They lay beside one another, so close, Fugaku can feel the heat of her breath against his cheek. She presses his forehead against her own. 

“How can I know this is not just a comforting dream?” Fugaku asks. 

Fugaku had heard the brain can conjure fantasies and hallucinations to ease the pain before death. 

“It was real. I know it was real…but when I woke up I was surprised to be in my old room.” Mikoto says in disbelief, “This is the old compound before the Kyuubi attack….my parents are still alive. Everyone who died in the war…this is so strange.”

Fugaku can barely begin to wrap his mind around that. It doesn’t make any sense, but he can’t even bring himself to think hard about it right now. 

Mikoto is alive. His wife, the mother of his children, his best friend--- was killed by their eldest son. He doesn’t know how his son could do something so savage to his own brother. 

That’s the only thing that matters. 

 Now, Mikoto is here beside him. 

They’re both alive. 

Fugaku replies, “I…I really don't want to think about it right now.”

“We both seem closer to twenty. I suppose there’s no reason for this to make any sort of sense.” Mikoto muses, “well then, my love, perhaps I should show you something you would have not seen at that age.”

She climbs into his lap, her hair falling around his face as she leans down to kiss him. Their last days had been tense and distant. Every long night at the station, he missed her. Perhaps he should’ve told her that more. Mikoto still tried, even when he couldn’t tear his mind away from the pit they’d found their clan drawing in. 

“If this is a dream, let it be a long one.”

She looks down at him with those dark sensual eyes, “Help me forget for the moment then.”

Her thighs straddle his waist. Mikoto ventured out into the night in only thin pants and a tank top. She's more muscular than what he had gotten used to, still an active shinobi. Her arms still wield a sword each day and show it in firm biceps that he wants to run his mouth over. 

“If this is a dream.” Fugaku says, “I hope it goes on forever. That is how long I’d want to remain by your side.”

“I'm afraid you are no longer my husband. At least not at this age.” Mikoto cradles his face, “won't you still allow me to spend the night, Heir Uchiha?”

He does not want to think of the past or more accurately their future. Just for tonight. 

“Of course, you are my beloved wife. Regardless of anything.”

Fugaku runs his hands across her taut stomach. This body has not bore two sons. She's still just beautiful. The thought isn't---unappealing, but they can discuss it another time. Fugaku can't believe, even when given a second chance, that she would choose him again.

His hands wander. Fugaku grips her soft supple ass in his hands. 

Her eyes shine with surprised delight, “darling!” 

Gods be good, they're both young. His body responds quickly even just to the sound of her voice. 

She would've never called him that at this age. 

Fugaku never told her how much he loves it. It never fails to make his chest feel warm. Hearing the word cross her lips feels more like home than the new compound ever did.

For just a moment, Fugaku can feel the weight of his name ease off his shoulders. 

There is no clan to lead with his mother and brother alive. They have no children to care for. They're not even technically wed. 

Even if it's arranged, even if it's an order, Fugaku will gladly marry her again and again. Her body is warm and firm against his own. It's more unscarred than it's been since the war. The war is yet to happen here. 

It feels like he's burning as she deepens the kiss. Their lips moisten as they're tongues tentatively touch. It's been a while since he's been with her. Fugaku would even guess this body hasn't even been with anyone , let alone one of the most beautiful women in the Uchiha clan.  

He wants to touch her everywhere. Fugaku wants to feel for himself the proof that she's alive. 

He doesn't deserve her. 

Fugaku asks,“Could you forgive me for my failings?”

He couldn't kill Itachi. As much as he couldn't bear to kill his eldest son, he still watched his wife die. 

He couldn't save her .

“We will overcome them together.” She replies. 

It will be different this time. 

It must be. 

Chapter 2: Fugaku's Family

Uchiha Torbana died before the massacre, although perhaps in her bones she saw it coming. A cloud of fear has hung over his mother until the very end of her life. 

Her own mother, the clan head before her, tried desperately to bring the clan's name into the light after Madara. It was her duty to keep them together after the 2nd shinobi war, even as Tobirama spewed words of a curse. 

He claimed there was hatred in their blood. 

She shouldn't have gotten sick. It came out of nowhere. Pale, weak, and barely able to breathe, Fugaku had never seen her look that way before. If there's one thing his mother would've wanted, it would've been to die on the battlefield. 

Uchiha Hyusuke died before the massacre.  

Fugaku didn't even see him on the battlefield, surrounded by his comrades bleeding, screaming, and dying in the grass. No one saw the ambush coming. 

Uchiha Ryuichi died before the massacre. 

Fugaku sees him bleeding, bowels leaking from his body. He sees his elder brother's blood covering his body. Everything hurt . It hurt so much he wanted to lay down and die too. 

But he didn’t. 

He lived…until the massacre took everything away. 

They're all alive now as if nothing happened. 

He wants to scream at the absurdity. This shouldn’t be real. It can’t be. 

Fugaku can't imagine being the scared little boy he'd been. He has led his clan for years without being under the watchful eye of his mother. 

They never saw the complete downfall of the Uchiha clan, led by their unprepared second born son. He led his clan right to the slaughterhouse, just like his mother predicted. 

They're all sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. It's too normal, too serene. This house is just like how it used to be, down to the childhood height marks etched into the wood. It still smells like the incense they’d ship from Suna. The prayer altar with its smoldering coals is proudly displayed on the front porch. 

This was their home when Konoha was built. The very home that was destroyed in the Kyuubi attack leaving them pushed into a new one on the outskirts of the village. 

Fugaku watched his family disappear one after another as he built his own. 

Itachi didn't remember his grandfather and uncle on his father's side. 

Lady Torabana never liked Itachi from the start. 

Sasuke probably barely remembers her. For as much as she preferred him over his brother. Just like she favored Mikoto, Fugaku thinks bitterly. It’s one of the primary reason’s his mother chose her in the first place. 

Sasuke would’ve only been three at most when Lady Torabana breathed her last. Fugaku can vaguely remember his toddler clutching the end of his kimono as they stood before the funeral pyre. 

He wishes Mikoto were here. 

When they woke early that morning, Mikoto whispered into his hair that she'd come back. Fugaku missed her as soon as she slipped silently out his window. Part of him wanted to follow after her, just to be certain she wouldn’t disappear in what feels like a twisted dream. 

His thoughts keep turning to the softness of Mikoto's legs against his lips. 

That certainly felt real enough. 

It's the only thing he wants to think about. 

He doesn't even notice Ryuichi rise from the table. 

His brother smacks the back of his head, “head in the clouds as always, Fugaku. Are you spazzing out?” He demands. 

It's been a long time since he's been scared of something as non-threatening as his annoying big brother. 

Before his death, Ryuichi had always seemed impossibly older. In some ways, Fugaku still feels like that small boy trying to grab for a toy his teenage brother holds out of reach.

Looking at him now, Fugaku sees now. Ryuichi had been young. Young, in love, and foolish because of it. Fugaku doesn’t want to begrudge him for it. It’s not the only reason he ended up heir to the clan, but it played a part. 

Ryuichi doesn’t have the same scar running from his ear that he gained in a difficult spar with Mikoto. His hair is shorter, the same brown as his own. At this age, he wore it lightly greased back so it wouldn’t get in his face. 

Ryuichi’s wife isn’t present, although that’s not unexpected. 

The poor woman tried to attend more meals, early on, but even she could feel the displeasure and distaste rolling off Lady Torabana in waves. 

It stayed that way until Ryuichi’s death.  

His wife returned home after that. Konoha had never been right for her, and without Ryuichi there wasn’t much to keep her here. 

Fugaju can't bring himself to be too irritated, not right now. 

Ryuichi can be cruel, inconsiderate, selfish---but everytime Fugaku looks at him he sees his burning corpse. 

“Come now, enough teasing.The boy has always had a weak constitution.” Hyusuke  looks at his second son inquisitively, “I will say, Fugaku. You do look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” 

Hyusuke, the late lord of the Uchiha clan, laughs. Fugaku had almost forgotten what it sounded like. He was known to laugh easily and freely; the complete opposite of both his sons. 

There’s only the smallest hints of grey climbing up his temples. Ryuichi has deep smile lines that crease the corners of his eyes. He might not have been the best father, but he was not a bad man for all he preferred spoiling his mistresses over engaging with his sons. 

Fugaku remembers more small details he'd nearly forgotten. 

Hyusuke never went to the station before breakfast. He'd spend hours gone in the night, who knows where, but no matter the reason he'd always come home for the morning meal. 

His mom wears herbal spice perfume. She received it as a gift from a visiting lord.

“You are already late to start the day.” Torabana orders, “Sit.” 

Lady Torabana never had much patience for jokes, lollygagging, or wasting one’s words. 

Fugaku’s body does catch up before his mind does. It is more used to following his mother’s stern commands. His back instantly straightens into a perfect seiza. He kneels and looks over the food spread out on the low table. 

This meal feels too opulent for breakfast. There are sweet breads, sliced fruit, and honeyed nuts. Even the table is bigger than the one in the home he shared with Mikoto. 

Fugaku tries not to think about it. He focuses on carefully extracting the fishbones from his mackerel. 

While his parents discuss the planned meetings of the day, Fugaku dares to sneak a glance at his mother. 

Even before her death, Lady Torbana’s headship had been a long encompassing shadow over his own. She’s still strong now. Her long dark hair is tied into buns held back by two jeweled combs. For as long as he could remember, his mother straightened it to avoid looking like her great great uncle, Madara. 

She spent her life preparing to lead the Uchiha clan into the future. Where he faltered, Torabana could be decisive. Even until the very end, she never trusted Danzo. 

If she were still clan head, maybe their fates would’ve been different. 

Torbana asks, “Is there a particular reason your eyes are boring holes into my face?” 

There’s another thing he has forgotten. 

At this age, Fugaku would’ve never dared look at his mother so boldly. He would’ve tried to be more respectful, but his own apprehension would leave him shyly averting his gaze. No one makes Fugaku lose his words like she can. 

His stomach turns when he remembers his own second born doing the same thing---just with Fugaku. He quickly shakes the thought away. 

Fugaku is not scared of his family's disappointment and expectations anymore. The village questioned, demeaned, and ignored the plight of his clan. He was used to the Hokage, the leader of the village, passing him over during clan meetings. The ire of his mother doesn't feel as scary. 

Torabana says, “If you have something to share then do not waste our time. Do it.”

There’s no time like the present. 

“I was hoping that I could discuss an important political matter with you, Mother.” Fugaku says. 

If there is any shinobi in Konoha who distrusts the Hokage's shadow more, it's his mother. 

As soon as the words are out, Ryuichi is trying to stifle a laugh behind his hand. 

Shit. 

Hyusuke doesn’t even try. He holds his stomach as his chuckles turn into cheerful booming laughter. 

“Ha ha, oh, that’s a good one.” Hyusuke wipes his eyes with his napkin. “Good way to start the morning, boy.”

Torbana frowns, pursing her lips in such a way her lipstick crinkles like a poppy. 

“What makes you think that I require your council?  

His mother looks him over with such a scrutinizing gaze it feels like ants crawling over his skin. Fugaku is just grateful she isn’t using her sharingan. He still can’t help but swallow under the pressure of it. 

He doesn’t want to apologize for just asking a question, but his mouth doesn’t want to comply. 

Fugaku replies, “I don’t mean any insult, Mother.”

“There is a time to make one’s thoughts known.” Torbana says evenly, “And there are times to know one’s place. “

Mikoto’s mother may compare her children, but at least they all get along. 

His mother always made it clear to both her son’s where her standards lay---and how far they both are from meeting it. 

Fugaku stares into his rice. He counts every grain. He’ll do whatever it takes to avoid looking up and seeing her heavy gaze. The mat beneath him feels scratchy for being finer than one’s Mikoto stitched.  His stomach tightens. Taking a breath, Fugaku tries to remember the messy uneven stitches.

 She’s really bad at sewing, but wanted to prove her sister wrong. 

As much as he wants to eat, as much as he doesn’t want to skip a meal…he can’t. Both his mother and Ryuichi are watching him like he’s a strange bug they found. Maybe Mikoto will get lunch with him later. 

“You have lessons later this evening. Do not forget.” Torabana states, “You are my heir now. You must do better.”

Ah, so Ryuichi has already been set aside. 

That clears up some things. His mother started focusing on him only after the clan proposed it. It’s not like she could afford a divided Uchiha clan, not with whispers of war on the horizon. They felt valid in their concerns when Fugaku gave them an heir while Ryuichi could not. 

There is one small mercy in not having to go to the succession meeting again. Ryuichi raged horribly that day. He drank himself into a stupor and threw all his fury at his little brother. 

It took both his father, both Mikoto’s brothers, and Yashiro to tear him off. 

Ryuichi isn’t the clan heir anymore. Fugaku is---and he has to be better. 

His mother stands first, having finished her own meal. “You’re dismissed.”

She leaves with his father following dutifully behind. 

Clan matters are the one place where Hyusuke is always faithful. 

Fugaku sighs, and sets down his chopsticks. This is certainly one way to start the day, but one set back isn’t too damning. His mind struggles for the answer, but a cloudy memory of disinfectant smell and a green glow help him. Ryuichi, when he was actually in the village, acted as his father’s personal assistant. When he was off gallivanting with his wife to the Land of Hot Springs or the Land of Moon, Fugaku filled in at the station.

Fugaku has a shift at the hospital to get to. 

Even so, Ryuichi doesn’t care. Even if he also has to be going, he corners Fugaku in the hall. 

His mother’s words must’ve hurt. 

“What’s going on with you, crybaby? Something’s off…” Ryuichi studies him carefully. Fugaku freezes under the sight of his brother’s three tomoe sharingan. 

“Did you finally wet your cock with that little boyfriend of yours? “ He teases, “Find out you didn’t like it?”  

Fugaku is a grown man, even now. He’d lived his life as a man with a family. That knowledge is still fresh and painful in his mind. 

Ryuichi can’t frighten him the way he used to. 

It’s nothing compared to the terror and hesitation when the first whispers of a regime change arose. They were fired from prior positions with nowhere to go but the KMPF. Clan members kept coming home injured when they dared step outside the Uchiha district. Uchiha were going missing in disproportionately large numbers. 

They were out of money, supplies, work---but still expected to fight and die for the very village that denied them. The same village that looked at them with distrust. 

His own clan pulled away to keep together, but the other clans stepped back too. They heard the rumors. They feared the sharingan even before the Kyuubi attack. 

His clan had been so afraid…and they looked to him for a solution. 

The scariest thing had been realizing he couldn't protect his family. He and Mikoto may have calmly knelt to their deaths, but the thought of leaving his sons to the mercy of the village---terrified him. 

Ryuichi’s childish bullying can't compare to that. 

He used to love yanking Fugaku's nose, pulling him until he lost his balance and fell to the ground. Once he was in the dirt, Ryuichi often rubbed his face into it if he was feeling particularly vindictive. 

It's better than the crotch shots. Thankfully, those stopped as soon as Fugaku made jonin. 

At the moment, Ryuichi is still bigger. Broader, with more muscle, but Fugaku knows he'll catch up soon enough. 

He bats his hands away, “your a married man, Ryu, can't you act like it?” 

That earns him an attempted crotch shot that Fugaku blocks much to his brother’s annoyance. 

It does nothing to prove his maturity. 

“ Crybaby Fugaku certainly thinks quite highly of himself. Now that you're heir, do you really think you're Mother's equal?” Ryuichi scoffs, “The clan will burn under your leadership. Everyone seems to grasp that, but you.”

Ryuichi doesn't know the truth of his words. It makes Fugaku nauseous, but he shoves it down. His hands shake unconsciously. Even if his mind isn't afraid of him, his body readies itself in anticipation. 

If the years have brought him anything it’s the ability to shove down those pesky feelings. 

Fugaku doesn't cry. He doesn't get overwhelmed, not like how he used to. 

What would Mikoto do?

He decides to swing at the bastard. 

Their mother isn't happy to find her two grown sons wrestling in the hall when they both sound be headed off to work like respectable adults. 

Fugaku hopes Mikoto's morning is going better than his own. 

Chapter 3: Mikoto's Family

Mikoto looks around the breakfast table. It’s large and made of chestnut. Kenta lovingly crafted it by hand as part of his wedding gift to them when he joined the Uchiha clan. All her siblings are gathered with their spouses and children. Her parents are sitting down for the morning meal at the head of the table as if they never left. 

Uchiha Otohime models her own hair after the last clan head, Danuja. A complex, voluminous, ornate display with the hair pressed and folded into a butterfly shape. The style is held together with gold pieces and pins passed down in their family. 

 Mikoto feels underdressed arriving in her fatigues. She hadn’t had much time to change after sneaking back in from the clan head’s residence. 

No one but Otohime said anything about her unkempt appearance. 

Mikoto missed those comments, for all they used to annoy her to no end.

Her mother disappeared not long after the release of the Kyuubi. 

Otohime hoped seeking an audience in the capital might help them.  Moving the Uchiha district to the village edges wasn’t popular, and Otohime sought to protect their clan in the only way she knew how.

 Her traveling party never made it to the capital. 

After that, Mikoto put most of the jewelry away. All her mother’s best kimonos sat in trunks with the mothballs. There was no need for them. Uchiha were not invited to events where they needed finery, not after the Kyuubi’s release. 

Sengen didn’t go with her, and regretted it ever since. 

Her quiet, solemn father had been the only grandfather her children knew. He’d been content to let his wife lead the family, and seemed quite lost with her gone. He drew inward, where Mikoto could barely reach. 

Itachi still wouldn’t have let him live. He knew too much. 

Mikoto watches Sengen spoon peppers into her eldest brother’s bowl with a smile. There’s not a hint of grey in his long dark hair. His widow’s peak is deep and will grow deeper still in time. 

Naozumi is the eldest of the siblings. His legs are already gone, and his wife still sits by his side, bouncing a curly haired toddler on her lap. There are no stress lines on her tanned face from worrying about her shinobi son. 

She’d been crushed under the rubble as the Kyubbi’s tails tore down everything in their path. 

They never did find Shisui’s body, but here he sits now babbling on his mother’s lap. 

 Naozumi still has the same tired grey eyes. His cheeks are fuller, his hair still thick and curly. After Shisui died, he’d spent more time in the hospital, often too sick to eat. Shisui was their beloved, only child. 

It’s hard to look at him, so innocent and small. 

She never told Fugaku she suspected Shisui was spying on them, just like Itachi. 

“What’s with that serious face?” Akimomo pats the empty cushion on her left, “Come sit and eat, Miko.”

Jolted from her thoughts, Mikoto sits down crossed legged next to her sister. 

Akimono Is everything a proper lady should be. Mikoto knows that’s what her mother thinks. No one can truly dislike Akimomo, with her bouncing curls, and a cheerful smile. She is certainly not as unsettling as the skinny-placid faced daughter that would come after. 

 Her husband, Kenta, has a rather boxy build. He's a craftsman by trade with warm honey eyes all their children would inherit.  He holds their eldest son in the crook of his arm with one hand, and shovels chicken into his mouth with the other. 

Their firstborn, Harin, is trying to soothe his aching gums on his foot. 

The others have yet to be born here: the girls, Otomi, Mimi, and their fifth baby never saw the light of day. 

Already, Mikoto can see her sister’s stomach is already starting to round again. 

Never a shinobi, never having picked up a sword, Mikoto knew her big sister always wanted to be a mother. 

For all their differences, Mikoto is grateful for the wise and caring elder siblings. She never felt too stuck between her eldest siblings---even if those two were closest in age. Mikoto knows she's lucky in that regard. 

Fugaku might even be running from his own older brother right now

The sibling she was always closest to---is Masato. 

Uchiha Masato, the youngest brother. Long and lean with a high ponytail that flowed down his back, he's the image of their father in youth. Uchiha Masato would become known as the current head family’s eternal bachelor. For as much as Otohime despaired, he refused to marry. No one pushed it after they lost their mother. 

 Right now, he’s still a teenager with acne scars on his face. 

Unlike Fugaku, her family survived. They still kept going. 

Until the massacre that is. 

Otohime announces, “I have very good news, children.”

She waits for one of them to ask, hoping to build anticipation. None of the siblings particularly want to, especially after being called children. They continue eating, even as she looks around the room for a response. 

Sengen notices her mouth falling into a pout. He clears his throat, “Tell us your good news, my love. We'd love to hear it.” 

Mikoto rolls her eyes. He always spoiled her. 

Her eyes shine with unbridled excitement. She claps her hands together, and  happily continues,“I have procured a most advantageous match for Mikoto!”

In Otohime’s view, her children are expected to move up in the world. She sees marriage as the best way to do it. This had been one of the primary constants of Mikoto’s young life. Naozumi married up, and even if Akimomo married for love---Kenta still sought to fully embrace the traditions of their clan. Her mother was willing to overlook his lack of status for that. 

Masato groans and pretends to gag in disgust. Mikoto quickly hides the smile that sneaks out. Her little brother's outburst is also promptly ignored by their mother. 

“It will be officially announced tomorrow. Be assured, I will be inspecting all of your attire before we depart.” Otohime raises her teacup in toast, “you will all soon understand why this is wonderful for the family. I can assure you that you will be astounded!”

Mikoto carefully keeps her face unreadable. On the inside, she’s beaming. Her mother wouldn’t be so pleased with herself if her match wasn’t anything but the best. She does love to brag. It has to be the clan head’s son, the new heir. 

It has to be Fugaku. 

Akimomo asks, “are we not privy to who will be our new brother in law?” 

Otohime fans herself. Mikoto forgot her mother used to love paper fans. Her coy smile makes it obvious she’s hiding something big. 

“I'd like for it to be a surprise. You all will soon understand, “she answers. 

Mikoto bites her egg and tries to not let the attitude get to her.

She missed her. She did, but Mikoto forgot how easily her mother danced gracefully across her nerves. Otohime did love that doublespeak. Maybe that's why Fugaku's bluntness would be more tolerable in time. 

“I wish you the most enjoyable marriage, Mikoto,” Kaiya says warmly. She holds Shisui closer, as if remembering her own wedding. 

Her husband does not offer the same congratulations. 

Naozumi jokes, “I’m sure Mikoto would find it more favorable should we be gaining a sister-in-law.”

Masato responds by snorting into his tea. Kaiya scolds her Naozumi, who is giggling behind his hand. 

Otohime chides sharply, “There will be no more jokes! This is a momentous occasion, and I'm sure you will all be on your best behavior.”

Their heir taking her from behind early that morning probably isn't being on her best behavior. 

At least, it's her future husband this time around. 

Otohime never approved of Kushina, and prompted her to break up since she had plans of marriage on the horizon. 

Mikoto ignored her until the clan head, Torabana, asked for the same thing. 

She did her duty. 

She'll do it again. 

The matter can’t be avoided forever. She’ll have to face Kushina eventually, but there’s no use dwelling on it now. Kushina is another dead face that she’ll have to cope with just like all the others. 

Mikoto moves to add more rice to her bowl. Her mother sees the action and clicks her tongue in disapproval. 

“Your wedding must be perfect, Miko. I won't have any missteps. Please, be sure to watch your figure.” 

Not like she needs calories for missions. 

The wedding of course, can't be anything less than perfect.  That's how her mother sees it. Otohime wouldn't allow anything else in front of the clan head. Looking good, appearing the right way, Otohime has her own high expectations for them all. 

Her mother ranks her children, depending on how well they meet those  expectations too. It never bothered Mikoto much. She had a place where she was the favored one. 

At this age, Mikoto would've still been under the clan head's keen eye. Maybe her own mother did not care if she was a good fighter, but Torabana did. The late Lady of the Uchiha clan gave her ancestral blades neither son would ever wield. 

Mikoto respected her more than any one at this age. 

It was simpler back then. The only thing that mattered to her---was getting stronger. 

She can't exactly look at her old idol the same now. 

Fugaku gets breathless and panicky whenever anyone catches them kissing because of her. Mikoto knows she can’t blame his mother for all his faults, but the woman certainly didn’t try to improve them. 

Kenta and Akimomo offer their own congratulations and well wishes. 

“I know this may not be what you’ve planned, but I am sure you will make a wonderful wife and mother.” Akimomo tickles Harin under his chin making him giggle. 

It annoys Mikoto that she’s not even saying that to be nice. Akimomo actually believes it. 

Mikoto had been a mother, for all the good it did. 

What kind of mother is she?

She had a sweet little boy, a soft and beautiful baby boy, and she left him alone. 

Sasuke . 

There’s no reason for her to think of the other one. She doesn’t want to. 

There had been too much blood, and pain---her eldest refused to enter the world in a timely manner. He came early, but managed to leave her in labor for nearly twelve hours. 

As each hour passed, Mikoto cursed her sister for saying it would be beautiful. She claimed nothing was better than bringing a child into the world. 

Her mother bore her father four children happily. 

Her sister probably would’ve kept having children if she could. 

Since she was a girl herself, Mikoto never liked babies. They’re needy, smelly, vulnerable. Whenever she was asked the question “how many children do you want?” or “what names do you want for your future kids?”

She has one answer. She always asked for a cat instead. 

Her mother hated that. 

Mikoto never wanted children. 

She did her duty regardless. 

“You'll be having one of your own, soon enough.”  Naozumi chuckles, “Might as well get comfortable now with your marriage coming soon. We’d love to have you watch Shisui.”

Akimomo grabs Harin from her husband, and unceremoniously dumps him into Mikoto’s unsuspecting arms. 

Harin is probably crawling now. He looks alert and happy as he curls against Mikoto’s chest . His hair is fluffy tufts of black on his head. There’s that soft comforting scent in his scalp--that baby smell. Mikoto doesn’t realize her lips are pressed against his head until she feels Harin’s hair tickling her nose. 

She had a son…and he's gone.

A few tears leak out, she doesn’t mean for it. She quickly stops them before anyone can notice. Mikoto gingerly passes Harin back to her sister. 

None of them deserved to die for crimes they never committed. None of them deserve to end up alone and out of options.

The family before her will survive and thrive. She will make sure of it. 

Last time, Mikoto knelt to her killer.

She never will again. 

 

Chapter 4: Fugaku the Medical-Nin

Fugaku walks to work rubbing his aching ribs. The journey is unfamiliar, even if his feet seem to know the way. The memories are there fuzzily, but they’re faded like a distant dream. He doesn’t know these roads, but he knows which way to walk anyway. There’s quite a few things he’s forgotten. There’d been no reason to think about any of these things. 

 His brother was strong , he only never progressed past Chunin because he is a horrible team player. Fugaku forgot how beautiful the old compound used to be. He forgot how little his parents took him seriously. 

Until the day they died, neither saw him as an equal.  

This is a world that he barely remembers.

 This Konoha, the Konoha of his childhood that had burned under the tails of the Kyuubi. This is a Konoha that once only existed in history books. There are old shops, bigger grander homes, and so many more trees. This is the land of fire, known for the massive oaks that tower above them and weave through the buildings. Many more will be cut down to rebuild. That strife has not yet come. For now, vines travel up high,  having made their home since this village was built. 

 It's a miracle that Fugaku even remembers the walk to the hospital. 

The building is old wood, with the original gas lamps still installed in some of the rooms. They flicker shadows across the walls. Only the main hallways and operating rooms have been wired. It’s simple. Medical advancements will be made in the ten years to come, but it’s still clean with only the light scent of herbs and medicine from the apothecary. Fugaku sneaks past a group of women scrubbing the floor below a picture of the lady hospital head, Tsunade of the Senju clan.  

Lady Tsunade tried to encourage the village push for mandatory medical-nin in all four person squads. It’s a nice sentiment, for all the village claimed it could not make it happen. They said they didn’t have the resources, not during war. Fugaku was one of few who entered her rigorous training camp as a boy. Even with the war over now, shinobi numbers overall are still low. Medical ninjutsu requires precision, and patience. Tsunade’s standards are strict, but anyone sent in as a doctor acknowledges that her expertise can’t be ignored. 

It was her who revolutionized antitoxins to common poisons. 

 She’s not yet gone from the village, but gravitating further away each day.Lord Jiraiya is still in Rain Country, and only Orochimaru remains from her disbanded team. The shadow of the last shinobi war still looms. It was public knowledge that this is when her fear of blood came about. 

Fugaku remembers Orochimaru would betray Konoha not long after Minato became Hokage. 

At the nurses’ station, he stands waiting for orders with the other volunteer workers. Off duty shinobi, housewives, anyone with a semblance of healing capability are welcome. The hospital can’t afford to be picky. 

His mother didn’t quite understand why he wanted to heal in the first place. 

They never spoke about his time on the front during the second war, same as they never spoke about the third. Maybe if they had, Fugaku wonders if she would have understood. 

To heal, meant he wouldn’t be helpless. 

Back then, there had been nothing he could do. He watched his sensei vomit again and again in painful heaves. Sensei kept retching horribly until the bile turned to blood. Fugaku couldn’t move. He couldn’t blink. He could do nothing but stare as he watched his sensei die. The helplessness burned his own stomach.  He remembers being at the mercy of it. There was nothing he could do but cry. 

“No time for crying, not when you can still help him. So, help!”

Lady Tsunade ordered him to hold down. Fugaku tried, even with tears obscuring his sight. For just a moment, his fear eased.  Fugaku watched in awe as the steady green glow of her hands led the poison out and away. It felt like watching magic at work. The liquid flowed and ebbed in time to Tsunade’s steady hands. She stood with a sea of red coating her from the chest down. She was beautiful and terrifying, and at the time Fugaku couldn’t believe this was the granddaughter of Hashirama that Elder Raksasha would rant about. 

He didn’t understand how anyone dealt with it. How could anyone get used to seeing so many people die? Even the Lady Tsunade, who seemed immoveable, now freezes when faced with the smallest amount of blood. 

His team: An Uchiha, a Nara, and an Aburame. They were genin then, primarily on body retrieval closer to the Suna front. 

They had Sakumo sensei then. He protected them, probably more than he should’ve. Even with all his efforts, their team didn’t make it to the end of the second war intact. 

Aburame Genji died.. Fugaku does remember watching his kikaichū devour the body as they hid under a barrage from Iwa’s explosion force. 

This was before it all, before he took up the mantle for chief of police. After that, healing wasn’t that important. It didn’t matter what he wanted. Fugaku knew only that he needed to do his duty. He had to do what his brother couldn’t and serve without complaint. 

Fugaku doesn't regret that, for as uneasy as it felt as first trying to fill his father's shoes. He settled into the role. Detective work came easily enough. There was a methodical process, he liked filing and reports. He just never liked how little they could actually help. 

Dragging drunk shinobi off the street, and hearing small claims thievery cases made up the most of it. It's not that intensive, not with T&I taking over the threats to village security. As the years went by, ANBU often overstepped. The KMPF was meant to enforce laws and rules over the shinobi of Konoha. That became harder the more laws that arose restricting the Uchiha themselves. 

Fuagku tried his best. He tried to be fair. 

He must do the same now. 

Much of the morning is spent checking fluid bags, and cleaning bed-pans. The rhythm helps. It’s idle busywork, and it keeps his mind occupied. It certainly feels more normal than acting as a police chief ever did. It felt more like a chain than a medal of honor. 

Even if it’s only in small ways, Fugaku knows he’s helping here. 

He may not remember attending to her, but Ms.Hamacho smiles warmly when he enters her room. The whistle of a shakuhachi blows through the small radio near the window. She looks small and frail under her covers. Kneeling next to her futon, Fugaku checks her heart monitor and writes up the new report for her chart. 

“Your vitals look stable, Ms.Hamacho. We’ll have to keep an eye on your white cell count, but your blood pressure is higher today.”

“It’s just because you’re here, love. You know what they say, Uchiha men are some of the prettiest.” Her thin knobby fingers shake as they reach up, “your hair looks so soft.” 

Fugaku chuckles. He forgot about this too. While there have always been rumors and tall tales about the Uchiha clan, this is before they got worse. Some were more innocuous, if tiring, it’s better than the one’s about Uchiha drinking blood.  The Kyuubi attack just intensified ancient fears of the clan with the demon red eyes. 

“Thank you for the compliment, but I am on the clock, Ma’am.” 

Ms. Hamacho’s wrinkled face crinkles more like a shar-pei she does her best to wink, “Let me know when you’re off then.”

Her vital chart says she is fairly alert and mentally present. There is a note for male attendants to be cautious. 

“I'll need to check your lungs for any sign of scarring.” Fugaku says.  

“I know all about me. How are you? It’s dreadfully dull here.” She sinks deeper into her pillow with a sour look, “ I feel my eyes can’t bear to read anymore. There’s nothing else to do. Do you have a girlfriend? She better take good care of you. If she doesn’t, then you know where to find me.”

Technically, Fugaku doesn't have a girlfriend yet…but he doesn't think Mikoto will mind it. If she wanted distance between them in this second chance, she would've been blunt about it. She is currently his girlfriend, and the thought warms his chest. 

“She does, Ma'am,” he says. 

Fugaku sees her in his mind. Back in bed, with her long hair splayed out across his chest. It's the only place Fugaku wants to be. Mikoto’s soft lean legs were peeking out from his shirt that she stole.  She is stronger than him for having the will to tear herself from the coziness of the covers. 

Duty comes first, she told him. They both know that. 

Fugaku tries to focus on the good, on what feels real. 

It's the only way he’ll get through the day.  

Mikoto promised to check in during his lunch break. 

Fugaku can’t think of all the bad that's happened, not now. It is already weighing him down, threatening to topple over. It’s all too different. So much is here, and not here, and it’s playing with his mind. 

There will be time---later. 

Right now, Ms.Hamacho's fragile chest feels too tight beneath his hands. Fugaku focuses on the chakra. It’s strange. He can’t particularly recall the last time he used the mystical palm technique. His hands glow green against her, and Ms. Hamacho sighs in content. 

“Are you sure you do not want my company?” She asks, “ those hands are wonderful!”

She's really laying it on thick. His ears feel hot and flushed, blessedly hidden behind his hair. He’s grateful it was a bit longer at this age. The teasing is a bit embarrassing. 

 Even if she’s a little old lady, Fugaku doesn’t quite get why she’s doing it.   His sons were popular. They took after Mikoto, after all. That made sense. The common dark hair, and eyes of their clan are said to be striking, but Fugaku doesn’t think that applies to him.  He’s far from the prettiest Uchiha out there. He and his brother both take after his own father, broader and with short squat noses. 

There are many slender Uchiha men, as pretty as any of the girls. There’s even a folktale that says when traveling Uchiha would dress their young sons and daughters the same, so that slavers wouldn’t know which child to take. 

Fugaku’s glad none of his colleagues are here to see, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Ms. Hamacho to stop. 

It does get boring laying in the hospital with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling above. He sighs and decides to give her the gossip she so desires. 

“I will have you know I am soon to be engaged.” He tells her, “My family has begun discussions about finding me a bride, and I am quite pleased with the match.”

Technically, they’re not betrothed yet. It’s still only a matter of time. Ryuichi has been set aside, and his mother would want a bride for her new heir as soon as possible. A bride means a new promising young heir---that means security for their family and line. There’s only one person who Torabana would view as good enough. 

“Congratulations then!” Ms. Hamacho smiles wide, “ My own marriage was quite tense at first. We grew quite fond of one another. I should hope your own is the same.” 

Fugaku's lips twitch into a small smile, “your blessing will be cherished. Thank you.”

His marriage was tense, at first. Maybe it will be this time too. Fugaku knows there is much they haven’t discussed. They’re both shoving down arguing lack of any real time. It was sudden, intense, and Fugaku doesn’t quite know how they’ll even begin. 

They died. 

They were parents to two sons. He was a father. 

Now…he is not.

Whatever reason he is here, whether fate or some trick of the gods, Fugaku is simply grateful to have Mikoto by his side. 

“You seem lighter than before. You would come in all tense and unsure. You’ve never really spoken much before. I like it!  Truthfully, you have a very good bedside manner for an Uchiha.”

Isn’t that how it always is? He doesn't let the comment make his smile fall. It's not even that bad. He's heard worse. It's still another reminder---the Kyuubi wasn't the start of their fall from grace. It was the powder keg that blew a spark into a wildfire, but it wasn't the start. The Uchiha have always been viewed as…different and strange. 

They're human, same as anyone . Fugaku wishes they didn't have to prove it. 

 There's only a few more room checks until he gets to see Mikoto again. 

“Be sure to let my supervisors know, won't you?” Fugaku replies. 

Chapter 5: Mikoto the Daughter and Sister

It's strange. 

Any other day she would've been running errands for her own family. It would've just been another day getting Sasuke ready for school. The quiet routine of their morning had become so familiar over the years it feels wrong to not be doing it. 

Mikoto used to hope she'd see her husband and oldest son before the day's end. She hated it, but even that became normal after a while.

Now, what had once been normal doesn't feel the same. It feels like someone is playing a joke, sending her to a past she barely remembers. She was once head of the household. Now, she's just another unruly child in her parent's eyes. 

 Mikoto informed her family that she would be going out, only to be promptly handed a list of goods to pick-up from the market. It has been many years since anyone treated her like such a child. Masato tagged along without being invited, but she's glad for the company of her favorite brother. He is currently only a little older than her traitorous eldest son.

As the baby of the family, Masato is quite used to getting his way. He huffed and puffed in defense of his sister. He was the only one to protest Mikoto's arranged marriage. Naozumi told him that there was no changing their mother's mind. Akimomo said their mother always had their best interest at heart. 

Not Masato . 

This Konoha is different, bigger in a way, with more people even. The third war took more lives than the second. There are certainly more Uchiha than there used to be.  Perhaps, they all grew accustomed to the world after the third war, as if the life they lived before never existed. 

By the time Mikoto had her children, so many things were gone. The Uchiha once had their own personal hawk house. Clusters of trees still fill the village to the brim. Mikoto politely waves at people she doesn't recognize when they call out her name as she weaves through the market. 

The years slipped by so quickly. One terrible event after another, one death and then more, until Mikoto suddenly found herself a wife and a mother. She's different. She knows it, and she knows her younger self might have despised the very thought. At this age, Mikoto dreamed of freedom and adventure. She never dreamed she'd miss having a child tug at her skirts. 

But she does. 

The loss feels more acute at the market. Until it became too unsafe, Sasuke was her constant errand companion. Even when he started the academy, he would ask her to wait till the late afternoon so they could go together. Her little helper, even when he no longer held her hand. 

Masato is her helper today. He carries the bags, offers his opinions on what fruit looks best, and basks orders at people who do not move fast enough for his liking. Since childhood, Her little brother had dedicated himself to looking after her, even if she didn't need it. Mikoto had truly forgotten how cute he used to be. 

“We'll find a way out of this. They can't force you to marry that stick in the mud. I'll run away with you.” Masato kicks a rock in their path, sending it into the bushes. 

“Might you be aware who my future husband is?” Mikoto inquires. 

Masato huffs, “there's only one person it could be.” he pauses before he continues quietly, “You were crying…I saw it. They can't make you.”

Masato, her protective little brother, had always been her knight. They were closest in age, but he is also the sibling Mikoto feels closest to. The injustice of her arranged marriage had been one point where he never stopped complaining. Masato did warm up to Fugaku a little---eventually. 

She replies, “Good things can happen unexpectedly. I've decided to keep an open mind.” 

Masato scoffs, “you're just saying that because it's what mother wants. We're adults. We don't have to listen to her.”

For much of her life, Mikoto really hadn't listened to the wisdom of her mother. 

Uchiha Otohime wanted proper ladies for daughters. 

Mikoto joined the academy. 

Her mother begged her to avoid the uncouth, dangerous jinchuuriki of the nine tailed fox. 

She became her best friend, and then---even more. 

There wasn't much her mother could do to change her personal choices but escort the women she found in her daughter's bed out the door.

Mikoto didn't care. 

She always did her duty when it mattered. 

She was the clan head's favorite. 

She married the clan head's son. 

For all the good it did them, Mikoto gave them the next heir to the clan. 

Her little kinslayer.  

She doesn't want to think about that boy , so she shakes the thoughts away. There's nothing that can be done about it now. 

Mikoto must act the part of the dutiful daughter now. That is her primary goal. Her mother had thankfully been kind enough to remind her there weren't any missions to run off. She would've looked like a fool reporting for an assignment. 

Even now the chances of running into someone she knows are high. It's a small blessing she hadn't run into anyone like Tsume---or Gods forbid it, Kushina. 

She's not ready, not yet. 

Part of her feels like she won't ever be. 

She desperately wants to flee this rotten village, take Fugaku with her, and run far away. 

It's a child's dream. 

Miktoto can't. Fugaku would never agree. He would never leave their family, their clan, to the dark fate that awaits them. 

Masato chatters away about plans to subvert their mother or even foil the wedding itself as he tosses candies and snack breads into the basket. Mikoto doesn't have it in her to scold him. The money her mother gave her will be more than enough and then some. 

Hopefully, Fugaku will like his surprise. 

It truly is nice to have money. 

Before, Mikoto had been counting pennies  by the end just to ensure everyone in the clan had enough. She knew Fugaku would never admit he skipped meals so their sons would have more to eat. Mikoto gets it. After all, she did the same. 

This is the world before the Third shinobi war, before the tension between the village and their clan escalated into a no-win situation. After the Kyuubi release, everything kept spiraling until they were forced into a corner and out of options. 

Now, it feels like Mikoto had stepped into a fantasy world, so far removed from the trials and tribulations they'd left behind. 

She says, “If you'd be so kind, baby brother, would you please take the groceries and your treats back to mother.” 

Masato shrugs indifferently. He wasn't even listening to her, too busy waving at a pretty brown-haired girl. 

“MASATO!” 

He groans in annoyance as he turns to her,“what?” 

“I asked you a question.” she asks, “Could you repeat it to me if you were indeed listening?” 

Masato looks at her so petulantly, it reminds her of another young boy with that same pout. It makes her chest ache. 

“No…what'd you say?”His brow furrows in thought, “and when did you start sounding like Mother?” 

Mikoto sighs, “will you just please take the groceries home.”

“How come?” 

“Never you mind.”

The non-answer seems to be enough for him.  

Masato grins like a cat that's caught the canary. 

“Ohhh, I see.” He bumps his shoulder against her own, “okay, don't worry. I won't tell Mother that you're going to see Kushina.” 

Even with his teasing, he never would. Masato's trust was one thing that Mikoto could always count on. 

Akimomo would tell. 

Naozumi would tell. 

Not Masato. 

For all Mikoto loves her elder siblings, they aren't the type to be disobedient. Mikoto and Masato were always the rebels of the family and she adores him for it. 

Mikoto politely excuses herself before she leaves, even if makes her brother roll his eyes. 

She's going to visit her fiance. 

The walk to the hospital isn't too unfamiliar as she strolls unrecognizable streets. They built the new building where the old one once stood. The ivy that climbs up the sides of the ancient wood building will burn under the heat of the Kyuubi's chakra, along with the hospital. 

Mikoto avoids the front desk all together and goes straight for Fugaku's old favorite break spot.

There's a small courtyard. A large willow provides ample shade for the splintered picnic table below. Her husband is laid out on the bench with one arm shielding his eyes from the sun. A thin trail of smoke rises above his head. Mikoto frowns, seeing the cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. 

A good wife might gently coax their husband from a well-earned rest. Mikoto thinks about that, but then she gets another idea. 

A quick shunshin and she's immediately above him. She flicks his forehead and laughs as flails and jolts like he'd been shocked. 

“What the hell, Miko!” 

She manages to ask in breaks between laughter, “Have you eaten lunch yet?” 

He holds up the cigarette as an answer. 

“I see. What a filling lunch!” she retorts sarcastically. Mikoto sets a container of take out stir fry onto his lap. She adds, “you know I hate those things.”

He quickly puts out the smoldering cigarette and takes her hand in his own. The soft press of his lips against the back of her hand warms her whole body. 

Mikoto sits down beside him, close enough that their legs touch. She says, “eat, my love.”

And so, he does. 

Closing her eyes, Mikoto relishes in the quiet company of her husband. This feels normal. This feels real, easy, but reality is still there when she opens her eyes. 

Fugaku is still here. He's alive. And yet, he looks so different from the stern-faced man she had lived beside for the past fourteen years. 

His hair is a touch longer, spiking up more in the back. 

Like Sasuke's. Her traitor's heart whispers. 

Fugaku's face is still soft and unlined. He seems so small and young now. 

The words slip out before she can stop them. 

“I miss Sasuke.”

Fugaku freezes. His chopsticks slowly lower. 

They both know deep down. He must know.  

Fugaku might have begged with his final words for their eldest son to take care of Sasuke, but Mikoto knows better. 

She doubts Itachi will do as they ask. When did he ever? What are the odds he'll heed his father's final words? For him, orders come first. 

That boy struck down his own parents. He betrayed them. And for what? For the village? 

Even if the orders are cruel and unjust, Itachi followed like a loyal dog who doesn't realize he'll promptly be kicked away. 

Itachi killed his own mother and father, who loved him with their whole being. 

Did he not see that? 

Mikoto can't bear to think of her Sasuke at the mercy of Konoha's will, with his once precious older brother as their attack dog. 

It's not knowing that hurts the most. 

She waits patiently, for however long it takes, for Fugaku to find his words. 

“Darling, please. . .you know I feel the same, but I can't think about it now.” 

His voice cracks with unshed tears. He clears his throat, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. 

“I have to go back in a little while. Please, we'll talk---soon, but not now.” 

It's not like Mikoto wants to talk about it either. Saying the words will make it even more real. 

They must talk about what happened. The coup plans, the village's actions---and their eldest son. 

But what is there to say? 

Their people were butchered and it very well might happen again. There's no way they can pretend it didn't happen. Mikoto still remembers the feeling of a sword thrust into her chest. 

They must discuss it, but for now Mikoto lets it go. 

She rests her head on Fugaku's shoulder. He leans into her touch. Mikoto doesn't expect what her usually shy husband decides to do next. 

Pulled into his strong arms, he kisses her gently. Her husband is soft, too soft for all this. His hands gingerly cradle her back. He breathes in deep, burying his face in her hair. 

Fugaku whispers, “we have lived this before, but why does it feel so alien and strange.” 

Mikoto relaxes under his touch, “we must take it slow. Remember our prior steps. Listening certainly helps. My mother has been a wealth of information.

They seperate and sit by side once again. 

“How is she?” Fugaku asks. 

Mikoto snorts, “her usual self. I forgot how much I missed her critiques. How is yours?” 

“Still terrifying.” He replies, “ I tried to punch Ryuichi. She wasn't pleased.” 

That earns a kiss on the cheek. He's blushing, the fool. Her kiss is much more innocent than the one he just gave her. 

“Good for you, honey. I'm proud of you.” 

There's much to discuss---too much really. 

But that's a problem for later, for now Mikoto listens to the chirps of the chickadees overhead and leans against her husband. 

“Eat.” Mikoto prompts, “I don't want you to feel hungry later.” 

He gives her a grateful smile, so lovely it makes her want to kiss him again. 

There is one mercy in the world. 

They're not alone here.

 They have each other. 

Chapter 6: Fugaku's Team

His bones ache. His feet ache, really every muscle is throbbing and sore. Even his face hurts from having to force a smile. It’s been a long tiring day. His mood sours even further when Fugaku realizes he doesn’t even get to come home to his loving wife. He won’t hear a small voice call out, “Welcome home, Father!”

His long day will only get longer if he actually goes home to the old Uchiha district. 

He’ll be going home to his mother’s cold eyes, and  his brother’s teasing. Fugaku doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of it. He doesn’t want to go home to his mother. He wants to go home to his wife. 

The reality of it seeps in. 

His chest aches as he remembers that he won’t be eating Mikoto’s, admittedly mediocre cooking. There will be no ending the night, checking in on his precious sons sleeping peacefully. 

That’s gone now. 

His attempts to leave the hospital as slowly as he possibly can only work for so long. Fugaku lingers near the door until the head doctor shoos him away. He walks, and keeps walking. He’s tired enough that his feet drag, but still unwilling to go to his unfamiliar bed. 

He doesn’t actually know where he’s going. Fugaku wanders the dusty streets of Konoha as it is bathed in twilight. The day is ending and shops are starting to close. He sees other people are rushing to their families. 

Fuagku wants Mikoto. 

He knows he can’t just go to her house either. Mikoto’s family actually cares for her whereabouts. They won’t understand wh,  the new clan head of all people, just decided to start eating dinner with them and then retire to their treasured daughter’s room. 

Her mother might have been pleased with the proposal, but that doesn’t mean the family will just accept such a sudden shift without explanation. 

He wonders if Mikoto’s run into Kushina yet. 

Fugaku didn’t have the courage to ask

There’s being lost in one’s thoughts, and there’s being careless and clumsy. Fugaku would consider himself the latter. He’s too preoccupied to notice the woman bending down in front of him to pick up a mandarin that rolled into the road. His knees bump right into her ass. 

Fuck. 

The embarrassment threatens to overwhelm him. His face heats up,  no matter how much Fugaku hates it. It became easier to hide as he grew.  But now, Fugaku feels as young as he looks, like his limbs still don’t fit right and everything makes him feel shy. It does bring his mind back to the present, but Fugaku knows that his whole face must be  red. 

The woman shouts, “Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

His back bends in an apologetic bow., “I am so very sorry. My deepest apologies for my lapse. I genuinely did not see you, Ma’am.” 

A surprised voice asks, “Fugaku?”

Fugaku looks up to meet familiar brown eyes. 

“Yoshino?”

It truly has been a long time since he’s spoken with Nara Yoshino. Maybe for this body it hasn’t been as long, but in his mind it feels like a lifetime ago. 

She laughs, tossing the fruit back into her grocery bag, “I accept the apology. Fancy running into you!”

Yoshino looks him over, the small falling off her face the longer she keeps his gaze. She asks, “Is everything alright? Looks like something’s bothering you.”

She’s sweet. She’s always been a sweet woman at heart. 

Fugaku can scarcely remember the last time anyone asked him that---anyone not his wife that is. His list of friends had seemed to shorten as the years went on. 

“No, it’s nothing.” He replies, “I’m perfectly fine!”

Yoshino’s glares like she knows he’s lying. 

“Is it Ryuichi?”

Huh? Oh, yeah, his brother. 

It’s a bit disconcerting to hear how much stress his older brother used to cause him. It feels small in comparison to everything that would come. Sure, his brother might have never tried to be his friend, but Fugaku hadn’t worried about that man in years.

 It’s strange to hear what once used to be a prominent terror hanging over his life is now nothing more than a blip in his memory. 

Before this new life, Fugaku had actually thought he missed his brother. 

“Ryu has been nothing more than his usual pleasant self.” Fugaku says, “I really do appreciate you asking. I’ll be taking my leave then. Have a pleasant night.” He gives her the most reassuring smile he can muster. 

It must not be convincing. 

Yoshino asks, “Do you want to come over for dinner?”

He argues, “Oh, I can’t impose, really.”

“Shikaku isn’t home. He’s on a mission right now.”

That probably wouldn’t look appropriate in front of any prying eyes. 

“No, really, I can’t do that…”

His stomach traitorously grumbles. 

“It’s nothing special, just…dinner. “ Yoshino sighs, “Come on, give me a little company. It’s a pretty big house to be all alone in. I’m making cold rice noodles with beef. I’ll add extra cilantro and beansprouts.”

Conniving woman, he loves that. 

They walk to the Nara compound together. It’s been so long, Fugaku isn’t sure he’d be able to get there on his own. As they walk, he can’t help sneaking peeks at her. Her hair is shorter, cut in a cute short bob. She looks so young, her cheeks still round, there’s no stress lines on her forehead. 

Of course, they were academy classmates, but the first time Fugaku and Yoshino truly met was during team assignments. He was a short and scrawny eleven year old worried about making a bad impression on his new sensei. Yoshino was such a happy child, grinning ear to ear, as she introduced her new teammates to her proud parents. 

Sliding off his sandals, Fugaku enters the home of the Nara clan head. It truly does feel like a large empty house, more like a museum than a home. Shikaku’s mother died when he was quite young, and his father was another casualty of the 2nd shinobi war. Neither had siblings. Yoshino’s only brother died in infancy. There are still many Nara, other families, but the head family has dwindled to just a man and his wife. 

He sits at the kitchen counter stools, and sees their wedding picture hanging on the wall. Shikaku is clean shaven. They’re both adorned in traditional kimono, looking their absolute best. They do look like a beautiful couple. 

The last time Fugaku was here… he was still with Shikaku. He remembers Shikaku firmly clasping his hand. They didn’t even need to sneak around, but it felt fun. Even as kids, they used to push each other playfully as they ran around the engawa. 

He doesn’t realize he’s staring at the picture until Yoshino clears her throat. 

Fugaku gives her the first polite response that comes to mind. 

He says,“thank you for inviting me into your home. It’s lovely.”

There’s no reason to ask her how her marriage is going or how she’s adjusting to being in the head family. Shikaku claimed to the Nara clan elders that he’d only take a bride who could beat him in a game of Shogi. 

Yoshino won. 

The day of the marriage, Fugaku had been out on a mission. Fugaku remembers his brother gleefully informing him the Nara clan head had attempted to enter the district that very night. 

Shikaku still didn’t want to marry, but Fugaku knows Yoshino didn’t exactly want it either, but she’s at least willing to try . Yoshino understands duty, and did as she was commanded. 

It still won’t be until after the Third war till the Nara clan get the heir they’ve been waiting for. Personally, Fugaku isn’t sure it ever would’ve happened had it not been for clan pressure. 

She gives him a teasing grin,“How is your family adjusting to your status change, heir Uchiha? At least the clan should be happy.”

Yoshino is being too optimistic. The clan might be pleased that their fates are no longer in the hands of flighty Ryuichi. His mother is simply happy that Ryuichi’s wife will not usurp her title of Lady Uchiha.  That doesn’t mean either party is truly confident in Fugaku. 

Obedient, dutiful,  and not Ryuichi---that’s all that mattered when it was put to a vote. His nomination went through easily. Fugaku knows his father probably greased a few palms too. The respect his mother inspired as clan head might have helped. 

In the past, the place of the Uchiha clan head was decided by might. It only recently became passed down through bloodline. 

“I’m not ready.” Fugaku admits, “I don’t know if I will ever be. Ryu hates me even more for it---if that’s even possible. I just want to do what’s best for my clan.”

“Isn’t that what we all want?” Yoshino replies, “every clan head should---so if anything I think you’re halfway there.”

He says, “I’m not a leader.”

“I know that. They don’t know that,” she retorts. “Sometimes, it is easier to pretend for a bit. That doesn’t mean you can’t work to become one.”

That’s a nice thought. Fugaku does want to try harder this time. He watches Yoshino busy herself in the kitchen. This feels more familiar. This is what feels normal now. 

 Mikoto never minded switching back and forth between their tasks. When the words he was reading blurred together, she’d slide into his seat at the counter and take over transcribing. Fugaku doesn’t mind the monotonous rhythm of scrubbing. Mikoto always hated how the hot water prunes her hands. He bought her a special lotion, just to keep near the kitchen for it. 

Yoshino sets a pot to boil. She cuts carrots with such precision that his own wife could only dream of. 

An accomplished swordswoman she may be, Mikoto really sucks at cutting vegetables evenly. 

“You’re staring a lot.” Yoshino asks. “You got something to say?”

Fugaku thinks that there’s nothing to say about Shikaku, that's for certain. 

He can’t tell her the apologies he wants to say. There’s no apologies for not reaching out after her disastrous mission in Suna.That hasn’t happened yet.  He can’t apologize for avoiding her once she married Shikaku, even if he wants to. 

She was still his friend, first. 

Their third teammate, Aburame Genji, is already dead and so is their sensei. 

“Have you tried to speak with Sensei’s son?” Yoshino says sadly, “ I tried it myself, but he wasn’t very receptive.”

Fugaku actually hadn’t. 

Before this new life, he had actively tried to not think long about his sensei’s only son. Too wrapped up in his own troubles, Fugaku had pushed the circumstances surrounding his sensei’s death into the furthest recess of his mind. 

It shouldn’t have ever happened. 

Now there is only one Hatake left this far south: Hatake Kakashi. 

Fugaku hadn’t given enough thought to Kakashi until the boy trudged back into the village--- with the eye of the Uchiha clan in his skull. 

“I hope his passing hasn’t been too hard on you.” Fugaku says. 

The words feel hollow. He hates that some details of his sensei’s face feel foggy. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw a picture of the man. 

Yoshino snorts, “Please cut the polite clan bullshit. Let’s not beat around the bus. Sakumo-sensei killed himself.”

Their sensei had been renowned, a legend, descended from an ancient clan of warriors who rode their giant wolves into battle. 

He failed the mission, and they scorned his team---for saving his team. 

The war came soon after. 

Fugaku feels nauseous thinking about it. The war is inevitable. Even if other events may change, Fugaku knows the war will come. 

It always does. 

Sakumo-sensei plunged his sword into his belly, and waited patiently to bleed out into the tatami. 

Kakashi found him first. 

It’s not in his darkest moment Fugaku hadn’t thought about it. Any punishment for rebellion was meant to lay solely with him. That is what he hoped for. It falls on his shoulders as clan head, and he will be clan head again. 

It’s only a matter of time. 

Fugaku never told anyone, not even his wife, that he had wondered if his clan and family might be better off without him. They could manage. They would survive and thrive without him fumbling in the lead. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying, even as the teardrops fall onto his sleeve. Fugaku knows he should say something, anything, but nothing comes. 

Yoshino doesn’t call him a crybaby. She doesn’t tell him to be a man and stop his weeping. She sets down her knife. Slowly, gingerly, Yoshino wraps her arms around him. She hugs him, awkwardly, like she doesn’t quite know where to put her hands. 

“Sakumo was a good man. He was our teacher. He didn’t deserve to go out like that. Don’t be ashamed for feeling like that. It’s even worse knowing his son is now all alone.”

The boy does have his own teacher. 

“Minato…” Fugaku mumbles. 

“You and I both know that airhead has the emotional capacity of a teaspoon,” Yoshino replies. 

She’s right, but Fugaku doesn't want to admit it either. 

It’s truly only hitting him now. The future fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato, and Uzumaki Kushina are currently both still alive. 

Fugaku says, “it’s good to see you, Yoshi.”

He means every word of that with his whole heart. 

She smiles at the childhood nickname, “You too, Fugaku.”

They are the last remaining members of Team Sakumo. 

Chapter 7: Mikoto's Treasured Friend

When Mikoto last saw her, she was pregnant with Minato's child.

 She has no way of knowing that would be the very last time they spoke: nothing more than a cordial visit. It felt so inconsequential at the time. Just something to break up the monotony of the day. Fugaku took his grumbling mother upstairs, while claiming baby Sasuke was fussy. It was a lie, but Mikoto appreciated the gesture all the same.  Even early on, he was more indulgent than most would be in his shoes.

Uzumaki Kushina died that fall, the night her son was born. 

The releases of the Kyuubi destroyed much of the village.

 It helped destroy the trust between Konoha and the Uchiha clan. 

It was also the night Mikoto lost her beloved friend. 

The only chance she had to say goodbye was to Kushina’s child, laying alone in the hospital. It didn't matter if he was alone, not to the village. The only thing that mattered was that the new Kyuubi container remained safe. 

Minato was given a hero’s funeral. 

Their child was given Kushina’s name. 

There wasn’t any time to dwell on it. Konoha would punish them all for so much as looking at their jinchuuriki. The clan needed her. 

 Mikoto missed her, for all she pretended she didn't care. It was easier to pretend. It was Minato, the genius fourth Hokage, that everyone missed. 

Everyone cared Minato died. What about Kushina? 

 They had been best friends since the academy, and only grew closer when they were assigned to the same genin team. 

Being next to Uzumaki Kushina felt like staring into the sun. Mikoto was the Uchiha clan’s pride and joy, and she still felt like she couldn’t measure up. 

Things changed as they grew older. It was a slow… awkward decline.

Their relationship devolved into polite interactions and things unsaid. It felt stuffy and more out of habit than real desire. They still keep meeting up like they always did. Mikoto hated it. Kushina didn't want to break up in the first place. She truly hadn't either, but at the time defying the wishes of the clan felt unthinkable.  Lady Torbanana said it would feel easier.

 Duty comes first. 

That was always something that she and Fugaku could agree upon. 

Even with the end of their relationship, Mikoto hadn't wanted their friendship to so easily dissolve too, but it fell away into the wind like sand. In their childhood they were thick as thieves, it seemed so easy. It felt easy to talk, and laugh, without responsibilities outside of their missions. 

Mikoto knows she will be a wife soon

 They became strangers as adults, and Mikoto didn't know how to stop it. They grew further apart when Mikoto became a wife…then a mother. It only escalated when Kushina became focused on her blossoming relationship with Minato.

Talking about pregnancy was an easy topic. Kushina had feared the unknown, much to Mikoto’s surprise. She knew it well after two of her own, even if she kept some details of Itachi’s birth to herself. 

Even if talking felt stilted, a drowsy routine of playing pretend, it was still better than having her dead. 

 

Kushina is now standing in front of her--- still very much alive. Young, beautiful, and smiling right at Mikoto with that big dumb grin. She saw that same smile illuminated across her son's face. 

“Mikoto! It's so good to see you!” 

Without any questions or formality, Kushina pulls her into a tight hug. She could make friends with anyone. Her bright crimson hair falls around on Mikoto’s shoulder. It’s thinner and softer than her own. 

Minato always loved her hair. 

Mikoto never told her how much she did too. 

The sudden thought crosses her mind. Kushina might be able to smell Fugaku’s aftershave on her. She’s so close, too close. 

Kushina never liked Fugaku. She found him grave and dull. There wasn’t any interest on her part in getting to know Mikoto’s new husband. Fugaku, at most, tolerated Kushina. He found her loud and ill-mannered. He is gentle, studious, but not soft. He’ll down an entire pot of coffee himself, while Kushina can’t stand any bitter foods, especially coffee. She is soft-hearted, but not at all gentle. Reading never came easier to her. From what Mikoto remembers from Sasuke's rants, her son was the same. 

Mikoto blinks, trying to collect herself. Kushina reluctantly releases her from her grasp. Mikoto doesn’t know what to do with her own hands as she keeps her gaze firmly down. 

This was bound to happen. It’s not like she could avoid Kushina forever. 

She’s still not ready. 

The words spill out of Mikoto’s mouth before she can stop them. “My mother has procured a match for me.” 

Shit. Not the first ones she wanted---at all. 

“Oh, really?” Kushina chuckles, “guess a lot tends to happen when I'm out of the village. So, who's the lucky guy? We knew it was coming, but I didn’t expect them to find someone good so quickly.”

“I do not know. It is to be announced tomorrow. I believe our parents will be meeting and we'll be formally introduced.”

Kushina wrinkles her nose in distaste, “that's so stuffy. It sounds more like a business.” 

“In a sense, it is.” Mikoto shrugs, “a joining of two families often has a financial aspect.” 

She sighs. Kushina doesn't even know how lucky she is. She has Uzumaki Mito's bloodline. If Uzushio were still standing, she'd probably be married off to some lord’s son as well. Fate is still so cruel. Kushina might spurn the idea of an arranged marriage, but in the end she did the exact same as many women do. She wed a powerful lord, gave him a son, and died before getting a chance to raise him. It's too common of a tale. 

“It's lame, but whatever you say. This guy better not be some fat old fuck. If the guy doesn't treat you right, he'll be hearing from me!”

Mikoto’s mother does love a good name and a good wallet, but in her eyes her grandchild being head of the clan is the grandest prize.

“You know I wouldn't allow any bad behavior. I trust my parents' judgment in the matter,” Mikoto says. 

“I'll still keep the bastard in check.” Kushina asserts, “nothing can keep me away.”

Nothing but Namikaze Minato and all his false promises, Mikoto thinks bitterly. 

“I appreciate your concern all the same, Kushina.” 

“Do you have any plans for dinner? I'm starved! I was just headed to Ichiraku.” 

Technically, showing up at family dinner isn't mandatory. Her mother expects obedience, like she does with everything, but Mikoto hadn't had ramen at a shop in a long time.

Fugaku probably would've gone if she asked, but she never did. 

Kushina and Mikoto walk in those unfamiliar streets in an uneasy silence. After she died, it was hard to even think about the good times. Mikoto had her family and clan to focus on. It gave her direction. It kept her steady.  As the years went on her memories of Kushina turned into a memory of warmth and light. 

Mikoto had forgotten how awkward it used to be. Part of it was her own doing. Once her betrothal was announced, Mikoto treated Kushina coldly. No matter how much Mikoto presented her logical plans,  Kushina wouldn’t accept her attempts to create distance. She wanted to continue on as they had. Her antics only escalated when she found out who Mikoto was marrying. 

She’d flirt, and tease, even when Mikoto pleaded with her to behave. She couldn’t grasp the situation the Uchiha found themself in. The succession crisis meant nothing to her. 

It wasn’t about them. Kushina thought it was. 

 During the fire festival that year, a tipsy Kushina had yanked her to her feet. It wasn’t the first time she’d coaxed her into dancing around the bonfire. Mikoto doesn’t like dancing, but she still allowed Kushina to clasp her hands and spin her in circles. This was early in her marriage, before Itachi was born.

 Kushina pulled her closer, perhaps…too close. Mikoto didn't realize, even with the cheerful sounds of her family enjoying the festivities around her. She felt Kushina’s mouth softly kiss the curve of her ear, only then did she step away.

Fugaku never said anything, but Mikoto knew he saw it. He stiffened as soon as she returned to her seat at his side. Even if they slept separately at the time, she could tell when he avoided her more than usual. Sometimes the only time they saw one another was during official clan business. 

 Itachi’s birth changed things. The clan had their heir, as sickly as he was. 

Fugaku found himself caring for the baby alone for months until Mikoto could bring herself to even look at the boy. He never pressed her. He never pushed. 

She knew the clan was asking about a spare. Fugaku still said nothing. 

Kushina wasn’t able to visit…even when Mikoto wanted nothing more to have her by her side. Missions happen. It’s understandable. 

Kushina only mentioned it in passing. Mikoto knew that Kushina started accepting more of Minato’s invitations. Everyone could tell. She talked about him more. They’re own meetings eased. There were excuses, and apologies. She had plans with Minato. 

The war ended with Mikoto carried home in a humiliating back brace. 

Minato returned as the conquering hero with the position of Hokage was waiting for him. 

Sasuke was born and that same year Kushina died with Minato alongside her. 

Sasuke does not even exist, but Minato and Kushina are both alive.

How quickly things change over and over again. 

So many of the events that stand out starkly in Mikoto’s mind haven’t even occurred in this time period. Maybe now they won’t even come to pass. 

It’s a terrifying thought, one Mikoto doesn’t want to dwell on. 

Blessedly, Ichiraku is  not much different from how she remembers it. It's in the same spot, with Teuchi's unlined face smiling to greet them. The wood bar is still bright with varnish. The chairs might have been restuffed at one point, but it still smells as delicious as before. . 

Kushina laughs when she hears Mikoto’s stomach grumble. 

It has been a busy day. 

Kushina calls out, “Two orders of Miso Pork, please!” 

“Of course, Kushina. Back in the village I see.” Teuchi asks, “Successful mission?”

She plops down onto the stool, It lets out a faint squeak. Mikoto sits next to her. She waves at the little girl trying to peek over the counter. 

Kushina replies, “Always! Just a dumb escort mission, it was so boring. Nothing more exciting than mosquito bites.”

Teuchi says, “You say that about those missions.”

“they should give me less boring ones.” Kushina argues. 

“Nothing wrong with boring, I say.”

The jinchuriki is to be protected, at least when it's not war time. If other villages send out their jinchuuriki, Konoha does the same. Everyone seems to know that but Kushina. 

Uchiha are often given the hardest jobs with the least reward, long before the Kyuubi attack. Mikoto was assigned to guard the jinchuruki at all costs.There was never a reason to tell Kushina that. Mikoto would've protected her regardless. 

Teuchi sits the bowl down in front of her. The steam gently heats her face. It’s such a pleasant salty scent. Mikoto pushes the piece of pork down with her chopsticks, watching the broth cover the neat. Kushina digs in, slurping the noodles without a care. 

“Wait for it to cool, at least,” Mikoto chides. 

Kushina gulps down her bite before she replies, “Hottest is when it tastes best!” 

Mikoto blows on the spoonful of broth before trying it herself. The flavor is meaty, and comforting. It warms her inside and out. 

“Perhaps, you are right there.” 

“I'm right sometimes.” Kushina says, “You're just a know-it-all.” 

Mikoto chuckles, “I prefer prepared and capable. It's more polite.” 

Kushina shakes her head, looking at her with such a fond look, it makes Mikoto's chest ache. 

She jokes, “You're such an uptight princess.”” 

“You're a hot-headed fool. It balances.” 

For all her faults, Kushina also wanted to do good for the world. She never got that chance.  She wanted to be the first female Hokage even if no one else remembered her declaring it. Mikoto did. Kushina deserved better. They could've planned. There is no reason they couldn't have had a seal master on hand for the birth of her child--- it seems like no one wanted to try. 

They eat for a while, but Kushina used to always tap her chopsticks on her bowl when she was thinking too hard. 

Kushina asks, “Are you okay, Mikoto?” 

She’s not going to be if that tapping doesn’t stop. 

“Why wouldn't I be?” 

“You seem…nicer. Does that make sense? I mean I like you how you are, don't take it the wrong way. It just seems like…you have some heavy stuff on your mind.”

Mikoto isn't quite sure how to reply. Is she nicer? She can't recall fully how she used to act, perhaps colder and harder, wanting to seem tough for her comrades. 

It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth, at least part of it. 

Mikoto says quietly, “I…I do not wish for us to grow apart even if I am betrothed to another.” 

It’s harder to admit it than she thought it would be. 

Kushina rolls her eyes. She mocks Mikoto in her most snooty voice, “ betrothed ohhhh my lady I am betrothed to another!” 

“I will hit you,” Mikoto warns. 

Kushina holds up her hands in mock surrender, “it's just a joke, come on, lighten up, Koto”

Mikoto forgot she used to call her that. Fugaku never explained why he started calling her Miko. It was the first and easiest way he showed affection early in their marriage, a sweet name. Only later on, did she realize that he always says it with the same reverence as when he calls her his lady wife. 

Kushina called her Koto because she said seeing Mikoto makes her heart sing. She does not mince her words. Kushina never needed to. 

Fugaku and Kushina both might not think they have a lot in common, but they are both blunt to a fault. Even if Fugaku's nerves and tight sense of propriety hinder his own speech. 

 Mikoto genuinely thinks they might get along if they actually tried. 

“We've been over this. It's friends for life, that's our genin squad motto!” Kushina says, “You worry too much, Mikoto. Nothing will change that.”

Nothing but Minato's attention and broken promises.  

Kushina continues, “if anything, we should have a team dinner sometime. Did you hear Tsume had a baby girl?” 

Hana. If Mikoto remembers correctly the girl isn’t much older than Itachi. 

The very last time Mikoto saw Tsume, she had yelled at her and stormed out of the Inuzuka compound. She knows that Fugaku saw her in clan meetings, but Mikoto never asked about her. 

It felt easier to pretend that way. 

Mikoto forces a smile, “I didn't realize Tsume was seeing anyone.” 

“Some loser Inuzuka that her clan married her off to. I don't know a lot, but I know Tsume hasn't been getting along with him.” 

Mikoto can't for the life of her remember the man's name. She does know that man will flee the country as soon as the Inuzuka clan has their heir and spare. 

“I should hope my own marriage is happier than her own, but we cannot control who our arranged matches might be.” 

It was, and it will be once again. 

Kushina speaks with her mouth full, “you could if you weren't a coward.” 

Coward, hm?

Mikoto quickly snatches the uzumaki from her bowl and shoves it into her own mouth. Propriety be damned! 

Eating her favorite part of the ramen hurts Kushina more than hitting would. She should be glad that Mikoto didn’t snatch the meat from her bowl. 

Kushina whines dramatically, “Mikoto! Come on, that's cruel!” 

Mikoto dutifully ignores her. 

Kushina is alive: in all her raucous and oblivious glory. There will be trials to come. The impending war comes to the forefront as does how Kushina will react to Fugaku but for now Mikoto can take comfort in knowing that Kushina is sitting beside her. Maybe one day, they’ll be able to eat with one another---all three of them together. Both Fugaku and Kushina do love a good meal. 

She's alive.  

Mikoto sneakily glances at the woman beside her. 

Fugaku was right. None of this truly feels real…but it is a nice dream. For however long it lasts, Mikoto will enjoy it. 

Kushina is alive. 

Mikoto promises herself that is how Kushina will stay even if she must begin learning about sealing herself. 

Chapter 8: Late Night Talk

Fugaku can't sleep. 

Staring at the ceiling above him, the blankets feel scratchy and too warm. He has already pulled them back on and tossed them aside many times. The bed does seem softer than his one at home, but it still doesn’t feel right. Tossing and turning to find the right position hasn't helped at all. No matter what Fugaku tries, he can't get comfortable enough to relax. 

Sleep will not come, not tonight. 

The house isn't right. The bed isn't right. His wife is not blissfully slumbering at his side.

The fuzzy fog over his mind hadn’t gone away. 

Nothing feels right anymore.  

The unfamiliarity of the Nara compound is still better than facing his formerly deceased family. Yoshino offered him a room. Even if it looks improper, Fugaku didn't have it in him to refuse. He accepted the towel and extra fatigues without argument. He doesn’t ask if they’re Shikaku’s clothes, even if they’re closer in build at this age. 

Fugaku doesn’t want to go back to the Uchiha compound, not yet. 

Ryuichi is still probably still pissed from the morning. Fugaku just doesn’t have the energy or will to deal with that---not tonight. Father probably won’t notice his absence. Mother will be unhappy. She didn't tell him that his betrothal meeting will happen tomorrow, but he knows. Tomorrow is the day. 

Mikoto will be his wife once again, and Fugaku can’t ignore the reality. The clock is ticking. As happy as he is to marry her, they only married so fast because Konoha will be at war soon. 

He must lead his clan into the future---a future where they all survive. 

As his mother’s heir, he must be above reproach. Fugkau feels that colossal weight, perhaps even more acutely now than before. His clan is completely unaware of the blade hanging precariously above their heads. Fugaku can see it, waiting for them. It’s all up to him and Mikoto. There’s so much work to do and so little time. 

This simple bedroom feels like a cage. There’s no time to sleep. He doesn’t deserve to rest, not when there’s so much work to be done. They must save the Uchiha clan from their inevitable downfall and Fugaku doesn’t know where to begin. 

There are so many things that can go wrong. Maybe they should’ve run, maybe they still would’ve been hunted down like animals. Konoha is unpredictable. Fugaku understands that now. He can feel the walls pushing in ready to crush them at any moment. 

Fugaku never felt confident in what direction to take. 

The coup was not their first option, or their second, but there weren’t any others. They were trapped. The clan’s rage roared thunderously, always getting louder and Fugaku understood. He felt the same anger rolling in his own chest. Each insult burned more than the last. Their clan helped build the very village they claim to protect, and yet that village fails them again and again. 

The weight on his chest feels as if it’s crushing his heart. Fugaku worries it will always ache like this. He told his clan they would fight rather than run, and they all paid for his choice.

His clan is alive now, but they still died. 

This is his fault. 

It’s all his fault. 

It was his heir, his flesh and blood, that was their executioner. Itachi swung the sword, but Fugaku knew it was he who sent his clan to their deaths. 

He wants to have faith that this truly is a second chance. Fugaku desperately wants to believe in it, but he can’t shove away the feelings of doubt. It keeps his eyes from closing. There was never enough time before, but Fugaku feels it even more now. Each minute is passing by so fast. Even when he’s only thinking about it, it steals the air from his lungs.

Under his leadership, the Uchiha clan is doomed. 

This isn’t his house. This isn’t his home. This is the very first night without Mikoto by his side. It is real, it must be, but it all feels unbearably wrong . His skin itches, like ants scurrying up his arms. Fugaku distinctly remembers dying. He felt every brutal inch of his son’s sword. That was real. He knows it was. Fugaku still worries that when he closes his eyes they will return to that horrible night. 

Mikoto says that this is a second chance. To Fugaku, it feels like a cruel trick. They are nothing more than playthings to the whims of unknown gods.  Maybe they can change things for the better, but Fugaku isn’t as confident as Mikoto. 

He wants to cry, and keep crying. He wants to hide and cry until he can’t anymore. 

There is only a small chance things could change. Fugaku doesn’t want to gain his family back only to lose them all over again. 

The reality they have found themselves in is nothing more than the whispers of a memory. They’re being forced to live in a world infested with ghosts. 

Fugaku never wanted to see another war, but he will soon. He could die. Mikoto could die. This all could have been for nothing if he dies in a ditch somewhere in the Land of Rain. The entire clan could be wiped out again, and their second chance would be for nothing.  

It leaves him shaking, unable to stop. 

Tink, Tink . Tink. 

Tink . Tink.

Tink. 

It takes his brain a moment to register the noise. There’s a soft clanking sound, like little rocks hitting glass. Fugaku leaps up from bed when a hand pushes the window open.

“You weren’t answering. Put the kunai away, it’s just me.”

Mikoto’s voice. Yes, that he does recognize. Fugaku flops back down on the bed, his heart still racing. He slips the kunai back into place beneath his pillow. 

Mikoto slips through the window, not seeming to care that she's breaking into someone else’s home. Her feet don’t make a sound as she drops down onto the floor. 

Her long hair shadows her face under the dark of night. Her sharingan is active, red and seems to glow. Fugaku thinks that staring into the crimson red feels more like home than anything else in this world they’ve woken in. 

“What are you doing in the Nara compound?” She gives him such a cocky smile, “should I be jealous? Are the Nara clan head and his wife as young and beautiful as you remember?”

No more than you , he thinks fondly. 

Of course she’d think this is an appropriate time for jokes. 

Fugaku says, “Shikaku isn't here.” 

He probably said it too quickly because it only makes Mikoto's smile wider. 

“Felt the need to bring it up, huh? Don't worry, darling. I was just wondering how you ended up here.” She sits down next to him on the bed,“ How's Yoshino anyway?” 

“We talked about sensei. I ran into her when I left the hospital and well…” Fugaku shrugs, “I didn't exactly want to go home.” 

Mikoto points out, “The war will be coming soon if Sakumo’s gone already.” 

Fugaku’s fingers play with the loose blanket threads. 

He sighs, “I know…”

She doesn't need to say it, but she’s being practical. Of course, the war is creeping in. This false peace surrounding them will not last. The compound, the village itself, are of a bygone era in Fugaku's memory. For whatever reason they ended up here, the gods dumped them into a place full of nothing but phantom memories. 

He wonders if she's dealing with it better than him. 

Fugaku asks,“What are you doing here?” 

He’s happy to see her, but she wouldn’t have gone searching for him without a good reason. 

Mikoto says, “You said you wanted to talk.”

He's not prepared for it. He doesn't think he ever will be. But Fugaku doubts he’s going to sleep anyway, might as well spend the time with his soon-to-be wife. 

He runs a hand through his hair,“I suppose I did say that, yes.” 

She stands. Grabbing his hand, Mikoto pulls him to his feet. 

“Train with me, and we’ll talk. That is what I am here for.”

It’s too easy to sneak out. This is before the war, before the Kyuubi. The entire village is less guarded, more sleepy. They’ve settled into peace, slumbering like fat cats in the sun. ANBU patrols that were once a constant around the village are non-existent. The training grounds are empty, quiet, with only the crickets and fireflies for company. The moon above them is almost full, partially hidden behind clouds. Looking at the stars above them, Fugaku is reminded of Sasuke's eyes: dark like his mother's but sparkling with light. 

They stretch together. It’s easier than it used to be. Mikoto’s back bends properly now. Fugaku notices his knee doesn’t pull as much as it did. Their bodies have not yet seen the war, and hopefully they can avoid those injuries once again. 

There are so many things that must change. Fugaku feels like they’ll end up losing track after a while. He knows his own failures are endless. 

Mikoto says quietly, “I saw Kushina.”

He knew she would although perhaps he didn't expect it would be so soon.  

“How was it?” Fugaku asks dutifully. 

Part of him doesn't really want to know, but he asks. Kushina was a topic they had always carefully danced around unless necessary. It’s not like talking about her son was an option. Talking about her death only served to make Mikoto angry.  

Fugaku waits patiently for Mikoto’s answer, watching the pull of her shoulder as she reaches her fingers to the sky. 

“I've always wondered what happens when a dog outlives its master,” she replies. 

“Don't say that.” 

“It's true. I followed her every word. I would've died for her. It was my duty.” She pauses and looks up into the starry sky. “Do not mistake me. My duty now is to you and our clan, our family. I was a mother and now I am not. I am…not certain of how I fully feel about this all. This is an immense duty that we have. It has come with a price.”

Fugaku did not doubt her. He still doesn’t. He knows very well how much Kushina meant to her. It must feel strange to have her alive again.  For all they’ve gained, there’s still so much they’ve lost. 

Mikoto takes a firm stance. No jutsu, no swords, this is just a spar with nothing but their fists. Fugaku gets ready for her. His body still feels tired and sore from work, but there is something about a good spar that gets his blood pumping. They are shinobi. This has been their reality since they could walk. 

The words do not come easily but between blows, they say what must be said. 

“We have lost our sons.” Fugaku tries to knock Mikoto off her feet, “ There are so many people alive, but we’ve lost our sons.”

He doesn’t say that their youngest son may have watched them die. 

Mikoto says, “I have but one son. And he is dead.” 

Fugaku knew she felt that way, deep down. It still hurts to hear it said aloud. 

He jumps back, nearly missing a barrage of kicks. Mikoto quickly gives chase, grabbing him by the back of his shirt. She tosses him into the dirt. Fugaku rolls away, his chest heaving as he tries to get some distance between them. 

He asks, “You plan on breaking my heart to get through this?”

She replies bluntly,“If I must to make you stronger, then yes.”

Mikoto never answers the way he expects, but she has never been one to soften her words. Only with their sons, or really…just Sasuke. 

“I felt them die, Miko. It wasn’t just us…it was us all. They planned to kill us all.”

He doesn’t know how to apologize to her anymore than he has. 

It’s my fault, he thinks, it’s my fault that they killed us all. 

Every man, woman, and child---what unimaginable cruelty. 

Fugaku had long known that Konoha’s reputation as a “good” village was not all it seemed. Every village puts up a veneer of strength and good will, but it’s never the Kage that fights in the dirt. He’s sheltered in a downpour with reasonable Iwa shinobi. He has shared rice with Kumo-nin. 

The village he served loyally betrayed them all.  

If there is any chance at peace, there are fissures that must be closed. Not just among nations, but the clans---if they’re even allowed to strive for that. 

At the end of the day, they’re all tools. That is the true role of shinobi. They are tools that will be hastily tossed away as soon as they’re no longer useful. 

He dodges the punch she aims at his head. Each movement is calculated, controlled, not the smallest bit of energy is wasted in her strikes. Mikoto spits, “Our son was our executioner. You knew he was a spy. He destroyed our family, as did this village, and I will not allow that to happen again.”

Fugaku catches her elbow before it slams into his shoulder. She grunts as she struggles to break free. 

“He may have spared Sasuke.”

Her foot slams brutally against his thigh. 

Fuck, that stings. 

Mikoto’s always been fast, faster than him. She doesn't pull her punches either. 

“Don’t be a fool, it would be cruel to leave him alive and alone.” Mikoto circles around him. Her face is like ice. The only telltale sign of the fury she’s keeping contained---is the sharingan red unconsciously flickering to her eyes

Mikoto charges forward and tackles him. His back slams against the ground. Fugaku tries to throw her off, but she grabs him by the hair. Slapping his head against the ground with such ferocity, his ears ring. 

Leaning close to his ear, she says,“The massacre cannot happen again. I will not allow it.”

Fugaku knows what she isn’t willing to say. 

If the choice comes between Konoha and the clan---Mikoto will see this village fall before their family does. Of that, Fugaku is certain. 

They spar, and keep sparring. They trade blows until they’re both too tired to stand. Neither of them may dream of battle, but they have both trained for it since birth. There is a pleasure in it. Exerting oneself past ability, only to push forward stronger next time. 

The adrenaline courses through his body leaving a pleasant buzzing hum. Fugaku pulls off his t-shirt, using it to wipe the sweat dripping into his eyes. He falls back into the grass, looking up at Mikoto. The dew against the grass feels nice against his skin.  Mikoto takes a swig of water and tosses the bottle to him. He holds the cold bottle to his flushed face.  

“I suppose I could sleep better now,” he says. 

Mikoto smiles, “Perhaps, we should be. There is our betrothal meeting tomorrow.”

Hopefully it’s not too early in the morning. 

Fugaku nods, “we’ll need to start figuring out a plan for the future. I’ve been thinking greatly about the matter, and I was hoping to run some ideas by you. I trust your judgement soundly, but I am admittedly nervous of what is to come.” He takes a sip of water, “Things can be the same, and that terrifies me. Things can change too, and it’s still just as nerve-racking!”

She sits down in the grass next to him. 

“You’re going to get yourself worked up thinking like that. Don’t give yourself a migraine.”

Fugaku had been frankly surprised not to have one, but he was less prone to them before he cracked his skull. 

Mikoto lays down on his chest. It’s nice to hold her. It’s always comforting to hold the warmth of his body against her own. His heart is still beating fast, but it thumps faster as her breath falls dangerously close to his nipple. She makes herself cozy, closing her eyes. Her hands softly graze across his stomach. Her hair gently tickles his sides. Fugaku glances down, seeing a small smirk on Mikoto’s lips. 

He realizes her line of thinking before she can even act.

“You can’t keep avoiding serious discussion by fucking.” 

She doesn’t buy his attempt at a stern voice. 

Mikoto teases,“You didn't didn't mind this morning.”

She caresses his jaw, thumb gently brushing his skin, as he leans closer to her. Her eyes are dark and beautiful lined by long lashes. They always draw him in.  Their foreheads gently touch.

Being this close, they’re eyes gazing into one another, is a way that Uchiha show love. 

Mikoto kisses him. Fugaku considers pulling back. They both do need to get back to the Uchiha compound before sunrise. But then her tongue licks curiously at his lips. He pulls her closer. Her hair smells like peaches. Her skin smells like home. Her mouth is warm, and she will be his betrothed. 

Mikoto kisses and tugs at his lips with her teeth, her hands tightly gripping the back of his head. It’s the only thing that makes sense in this dizzying fantasy world. Fugaku passionately kisses back her, panting into her mouth as he wraps his arms around her. She can’t help but grin at the needy whine that escapes his mouth. 

Fugaku certainly feels younger. His body reacts with an eagerness only youth and experience brings. He’s aware enough to realize it’s not just the hormones. Part of him does want to make up for lost time. Too much time was spent at the station, and not enough in his wife’s arms. 

This is simple 

This is real. 

“Help me feel alive,” Mikoto says. 

Fugaku isn’t certain she’s dealing with the change well. He also does not have the will to refute her. 

He replies,“Fiend.’

Fugaku closes his eyes. There is so much work to do, but at least he can savor this moment. There is nothing here, but Mikoto and the night sky above them. 

So he kisses her again. 

Chapter 9: The Betrothal Meeting

Uchiha Ryuichi, the former heir to the Uchiha clan, blocks the door to the bath like a petulant child. Crossing his arms across his chest,  he still tries to tower over Fugaku even when they’re nearly eye level in height now. 

“I know you were out last night,” he says. 

Fugaku scoffs. What's he going to do? Tattle to mother? They’re both too old for this. 

“I would assume with a beautiful lady wife beside you, you'd have better things to do than spy on me.”

Ryuichi snaps back, “You’ll say nothing about my wife!”

It’s too early for any of this. Fugaku hasn’t had any coffee or tea yet. He collapsed into bed as soon as he returned home. He is still sweaty, dusty, and sore. The only thing he wanted to do was take a hot bath, not deal with this. 

Fugaku pinches the bridge of his nose, “Please, move. I genuinely have no desire to fight with you right now.”

Ryuichi’s brows furrow, his face turning only more sour. Fugaku doesn’t get it. How can an unwillingness to engage make his brother angrier? 

“I want to know what you’re up to.” Ryuchi says, “It’s…strange. You’ve been strange. Today is your arrangement announcement and I haven’t seen one tear from you.”

Nosy bastard. 

Fugaku jokes, “I did not realize my emotions meant so much to you. You’re being too kind, dear brother.”

That earns him a shove. Fugaku doesn't even bother dodging. 

Childish, nosy bastard, his brother is. 

Ryuichi sneers, “you’re fucking with me and I don’t like it.”

“What is your issue with me?” Fugaku demands. 

“There’s something off with you…” Ryuichi asserts. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

That’s---unexpected. 

It has been years, but from what Fugaku remembers Ryuichi used to be too self-centered to involve himself much in his little brother’s business. Before, Ryuchi couldn’t care less about Fugaku’s personal life. There were jabs, insults, sarcastic comments, maybe even the random chance of a brutal spar, but they never really talked---not like this. 

“So…you are mad because you are concerned about me?” Fugaku asks, genuinely confused. 

“That!” Ryuichi throws his hands into the air with wide and exasperated eyes, “you look me in the eye and you make fun of me. You keep fucking testing my patience. Call me curious to know when you grew a damn spine!”

Fugaku doesn’t know how to reply to that. Perhaps he is bolder, he is older after all and lived through much more. The world is big and scarier than Ryuichi even realizes. 

Fugaku was scared that he would wake one day and see his children be executed. 

He was terrified at the prospect of defying their village. Afraid to make that leap into the unknown that all missing-nin must take. 

Compared to that, his big brother is not so scary. 

“That’s what you’re so mad about?” Fugaku says plainly, “I’m going to be married, Ryu. I have bigger things to deal with than you.”

Maybe Fugaku is different, but there’s no reason for Ryuichi to get so worked up about it.

This time period is the most peaceful it will be for a long time. The clan is larger here, happier, and only just becoming aware of how close war marches to their door. 

Ryuichi has no way to know that, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t sound like an ungrateful child making issues where there are none. 

Uchiha Torabana frowns when she sees her sons standing about the hall in their sleepwear like they don’t have an appointment to make. 

She demands,“both of you must be getting ready! Now!”  

Fugaku begins to say, “I was attempting to…” 

Torbaana interrupts with more orders, “Ryuichi, allow your brother to bathe first. Fugaku cannot be late for this meeting; it is pivotal for the future of our family. There can be no delays.” She turns to leave, but stops not even turning to face them as she adds, “Oh, one more thing…Ryuichi, inform your wife that I would prefer she not attend. This is for your brother’s future. I will have no issues arise.”

Ryuichi’s fists clench at his sides as he glares at the floor. He still doesn’t argue. 

Fugaku hastily ducks past his brother and closes the bathroom door. He listens to the stomping of his brother’s footsteps until they fade as he walks away. 

There’s no time to dwell on Ryuichi. 

Fugaku turns on the shower and removes his clothes, tossing them into the corner. His hands are drawn to that same spot on his chest, pressing the pliable skin. No matter how many times he checks, Fugaku finds himself surprised to not find it broken and bloody. His mind keeps forgetting. Looking down at his hand, and not seeing sticky red but clean skin.

He remembers what Mikoto said. 

This is no dream. This is no trick. That boy may never even be born. 

And yet today, Fugaku is going to be betrothed to be married. He will marry that boy’s mother again. 

Knowing she’s choosing to marry him again, that does help put Fugaku’s mind at ease. There’s a contentedness he hadn’t felt the last time this happened. 

When he returns to his room, Fugaku finds the kimono his mother set out. It’s dark green, soft, and so fine it feels delicate in his hands. Looking in the mirror is still an odd phenomenon. Fugaku can’t fully reconcile this youthful face with himself. He doesn’t even remember ever feeling this young before. 

He wants to make the most of it. 

The peppery scent of incense leads him to the porch. A stone altar is burning freely and unabashed. Fugaku watches as Torabana tosses in another piece of coal before she scoops up a small pile of ash into her palm. She uses it to write a marking on the underside of his wrists. 

“For luck.” She says, “we need this for the family. Understand that, boy.”

Fugaku nods dutifully, “For the family, I’ll do what I must.”

She does not do anything as audacious as smile. There are no soft touches, but there is a relaxation in her posture that Fugaku thinks he might just be imagining is there. 

“That’s my boy,” she replies. 

---

Mikoto lifts her chin, observing her heavy make-up in the mirror. Her mother fusses and fiddles with her hair until she can deem it perfect. Her sister, Akimomo, carefully pins in her earrings. 

“Don’t lose these.” she warns, “they’re an heirloom.”

Mikoto nods, but the disruption makes her mother click her tongue in disproval, “Don’t move, sweetling, you know today is an important day. You must look your very best. I do not want the clan heir to be displeased with you.”

As if he could be. 

“You already look the part of a beautiful bride.” Akimomo assures her, “he’ll fall head over heels for you.”

The last time this happened, Mikoto had been confident---even if it felt empty. She hadn’t been excited, nor nervous. The only thing Mikoto thought of back then was that she couldn’t be anything less than perfect in front of Lady Torabana. 

It’s different now. 

Fugaku is going to be her husband, and that thought fills her with a pleasant warmth. 

“Perhaps a bit of padding in front.” Otohime says, “I wouldn’t want the heir to find anything to be displeased about.”

Mikoto takes a breath and forces herself to hold back a retort. 

It’s a warm day. The soft white clouds above are nothing more than wisps in the sky. All the children of Otohime and Sengen line up in front of their home. Otohime walks gracefully before them like a general inspecting her troops. 

Naozumi’s wheelchair is polished till it shines. 

Otohime tightens Masato’s obi by force. 

The babies of the family are passed over to other relatives for the afternoon. 

Otohime states, “There can be no mistakes today!”

Her grown children echo her words in unison, “everything must be perfect.”

Mikoto can’t hold back a snicker at seeing such a childish display. They all used to be so obliging to their mother’s whims before death and children brought some sharpness to all their tongues. 

Otohime looks at her sternly, “Now, Mikoto, there will be none of that in front of your betrothed. It makes you look pinched and boyish.”

Judgemental woman. 

Sengen laughs at the sour look splayed across his daughter's face. He says, “smile, daughter, you’ve got a good husband to meet!”

That does get him a smile. Sengen always did have a talent for softening his wife’s blows. 

Like ducklings, Mikoto and her siblings and their respective spouses follow in a line from eldest to youngest---with one expectation as Mikoto brings up the rear. 

Her introduction is the most important of all. 

Walking up to the clan head’s home, grander and larger than their own, Otohime steadies herself and bangs the knocker on the door. 

The group are greeted by the clan head’s eldest son, Ryuichi. 

Mikoto had never taken the time to observe him closely before. He and Fugaku shared the brown hair, flat nose, and broad build of their father. Ryuichi is also more than ten years his brother's senior. Mikoto thinks his hair always has too much product. He's wearing a kimono that looks plainer and more out-dated than what he usually prefers. 

Otohime begins to introduce herself and her children, but Ryuichi interrupts before she can even get to Naozumi's wife. 

Only his first sentence doesn't read like a script as he speaks sounding like he’s bored. 

“Save your breath for Mother. We are pleased to have you as guests in our home. Allow me to introduce you to Lord and Lady Uchiha.” 

Mikoto takes another breath. 

Those titles…they were once hers. 

This house is the home of the Uchiha head family. Yet, it is not her home. This compound with its intricately carved wood and painted walls burned beneath the Kyuubi's tails. 

Mikoto focuses her eyes on the ground. It would not be polite to stare. She only looks up beneath the veil pinned to her hair when she sees Lady Torabana and Lord Hyuusuke standing before her. They are not young, but also not yet old either. Hyuusuke, who smiles so freely, is easily charming in a way his more serious sons can’t emulate. Torabana is a tall stern-faced woman. Beautifully intricate layers of silk kimono hide her strong arms that once wielded a war hammer. 

Lady Torabana led the clan through war before, and now her son must be the one to take her place. 

Mikoto bows along with her siblings. Lady Otohime begins her introductions once again. 

“My Lady and My Lord, please allow me to introduce my children to you. My eldest, Naozomi and his wife, Kaiya. My firstborn daughter, Akimomo and her husband, Kenta. My youngest son, Masato, and last but not least our jewel, Mikoto.”

Mikoto resists rolling her eyes. It takes more willpower than she thought it should. 

Until now, Mikoto never heard her mother call her anything close to being ‘ the family jewel.’

Lady Otohime gently removes the veil and Mikoto finally gets to meet Fugaku’s gaze. She’d felt his eyes on her as soon as they walked in the room. Once their eyes meet, Fugaku’s face brightens. The green looks lovely against his tanned skin. Mikoto doesn’t think he looked so dashing the first time this meeting occurred. 

Torbana says, “We are pleased to have you all. May I introduce to you, my sons: my firstborn, Ryuichi, and my heir, Fugaku.”

The last time, her heir had looked so close to vomiting the moment his name was said. 

Now, he just looks wistful. 

Fugaku does remember to say his own practiced words.“We are honored to have you. Thank you for coming.”

The family takes their assigned seats. It’s simple for the most part, ordered down by birth order with the expectation of Mikoto and Fugaku sitting opposite one another beside their respective parents. The eldest of her siblings and their spouses are one side of the large low table with Fugaku’s sole sibling and an unhappy Masato on the other. 

They all know better than to ask about Ryuichi’s wife. 

Watching as Torabana stands to light the incense, Mikoto has to think for a moment before recalling the words for the prayer. 

They pray for dawn, for strong children, and a happy and fortuitous match. 

Torabana speaks low and clear, “We are gathered today to propose the joining of two families.Warm yourself by our fire and join hands.”

Fugaku will not be shown to a parade of eligible women like a calf for sale. That is not the way of Uchiha Torabana. No, Mikoto fought her way to the top. Being the clan head’s favorite was always the end goal. She won. Even then, Mikoto never imagined the clan head would view this as her reward. 

Her own family had been at odds with Izuna’s line for generations before. 

Now, Mikoto’s children will be in line for clan head. Her line joining the head family is her mother’s dream. 

Torbana continues, “I have chosen Mikoto as my son’s bride. You have graciously accepted this proposal. I believe her to be the best candidate for my son, and for our family. She has never failed me. I am asking for Mikoto to marry my son, Fugaku, and become the next lady wife of the Uchiha clan head.”

“It is an honor to be chosen.” Otohime replies, “We are blessed that you consider our Mikoto so highly.”

Mikoto doesn’t want to seem entitled, but she can’t help but preen. 

Torabana says,“your daughter will bring strength to my line. It has been sorely lacking as of late.” 

Fugaku and Ryuichi both still when they hear her harsh words, but Lord Hyuusuke changes the subject. He turns to Sengen and they discuss the matter of the dowry. Mikoto couldn’t care less about it.  She knows how this all will go. 

Mikoto will become part of the head family and gain all the prestige and trouble that comes with it. 

The food is brought out and laid gingerly across the table: roast duck, herbal soup, and  spiced pickled vegetables. The rice is served in shiny metal tins. It’s a decadent and rich meal so early in the afternoon but Mikoto can’t eat too much anyway, not with her mother watching, so closely. 

Instead, she watches as Fugaku eats slowly and methodically, probably because Ryuichi is glaring across the table with enough ferocity to set his brother’s eyebrows on fire. 

Something to keep an eye on. Last time, Ryuichi laughed and laughed when his brother fled outside to vomit into the rose bushes. She hopes they’ll manage to avoid that. 

Mikoto turns her attention back to the parents discussing marriage and the future in between bites. 

Sengen brags, “Mikoto is not only a great beauty, but a very accomplished shinobi. I am certain any children born from their match will take after her.”

Lady Torbana replies with a polite chuckle, “we can only hope. My eldest son's failures are now my second born’s duty. Fugaku has much to make up for.”

Masato hastily covers a laugh by shoveling more rice into his mouth. 

Otohime inclines her head pointedly to Akimomo, who nods in return. Masato flinches and straightens in his seat. His brows pinch in irritation, as he’s kicked in the leg beneath the table. 

Sitting at the head of the table, Lady and Lord Uchiha thankfully don’t seem to notice.  

Mikoto has enough sense to hide her own smile behind a sip of tea. 

Fugaku is not unnerved, his face is as calm as a still pond. He asserts, “our duty is to honor the clan, Mother. We shall.”

He’s been able to say everything his mother wants to hear. Smart choice. Maybe they’ll be able to make it out of here without too much trouble. 

Lord Hyuusuke laughs heartily, “Don’t let the boy’s past preferences fool you. It need not be a concern! He enjoys the female form as much as any one. He’s always been a shy lad, our Fugaku. 

Otohime laughs a bit too loudly in return, “Oh, My Lord, you’re the funny one. I should hope you both do not let our rowdy girl’s past cloud your judgement. I am certain she will prove as wonderful a wife and mother as her sister.”

Mikoto peeks at Fugaku. He looks as exasperated as she feels. Harping on their children’s prior relationships was one thing their parents always had in common. 

Sengen opens a bottle of sake he brought as a gift. Lord Hyuusuke cheers and slaps his back with a friendly pat. 

He announces,“A toast to the joining of our two families.”

Shot glasses are handed out and passed around. Akimomo is the only one to decline. They each down a shot after they raise a glass and toast to the future. Sengen and Hyuusuke share another, and Ryuichi too. Ryuichi keeps ordering the woman pouring shots to stay even after the rest of the family returns to their meal. Mikoto watches him as he drinks another, then another. 

Her eyes narrow as she counts each stacked shot glass. 

Ryuichi spent most of his life very certain of his place, always above his weak little brother. He never became accustomed to being usurped, not until his death. He could never reconcile with Crybaby Fugaku, of all people, being the one who took what he viewed as his right. 

Ryuichi muses aloud to no one in particular,“You truly think he won’t fail with her at his side? Even if Fugaku manages to fuck that frigid woman, what makes you think that weak fool manages to lead us till the child comes of age?”

Lord Hyuusuke breaks the silence that comes with a hollow laugh. 

He says calmly, “Now, Ryu, have more faith in your brother and respect for his betrothed. This is a special day.”

Mikoto looks across the table, past Masato who is desperately trying to sink into his chair. Ryuichi glares at them all at the head of the table, eyes full of contempt that is special for her. 

Mikoto remembers why. Oh yes, she remembers the swords. The dao blade she has wielded since she was fourteen years old had been passed down in the Uchiha clan for generations. There are only a few left now. Mikoto was the only child of her generation to be gifted an ancestral weapon. Neither of the clan head’s sons---no, Torabana chose Mikoto to wield them. 

Back then, Ryuichi was still the favorite. He marched to Mikoto’s house and demanded she hand it over. Hand outstretched, like a spoiled child, who couldn’t fathom that he could be told no.

He is not one to easily forget a slight. 

Thankfully, neither is she. 

Mikoto says, “If we are to become family, then I would hope to get along and enjoy each other’s company. I understand, as the former heir, that this must be quite upsetting for you. I imagine this must be even more difficult for you without your beloved wife beside you, Ryuichi.”

Ryuichi’s face reddens in anger. Even his mother’s scoff at the mention of Yukari does not deter him. 

Ryuichi snaps, “Do not make presumptions of me, woman!”

“I mean no insult. You're soon to be my brother. I only wish to offer you some reassurance. I promise to do my duty to the best of my ability. You can be certain of that.” 

Ryuichi is many things, but he's not stupid. He knows what she's doing and it only serves to make him angrier. It's fun. Mikoto feels like a clever cat teasing a snarling wild dog who can’t reach her from the fence. 

Fugaku interrupts the exchange, “Brother, you have misspoke about my betrothed enough. You can be soothed to know I will do whatever it takes to protect this family and this clan. I will not ask you again. Mind your tongue. This is meant to be a special occasion, not for you to drink too much.”

Mikoto will have to ask if he practiced that little speech beforehand in the bath. She can't hold back a smile. 

Her siblings around her are all carefully keeping focused on their plates. Oh, there will be words later, but they all know better than to speak out of turn now. She can feel Masato seething at Ryuichi's insults. Akimomo is going to be running her mouth as soon as they're back home. They're an opinionated lot, and Mikoto is going to be hearing it later but they keep quiet for now under Otohime's watchful eyes. 

When Ryuichi was heir, no one stood up to him. Especially not Fugaku. 

Torabana clears her throat, “This is meant to be a special occasion, momentous really. Well spoken, Fugaku. Now then, we are gathered to share a meal as a joining of two families. Together, we strengthen the Uchiah clan. You offer me your beloved daughter for the hand of my heir. My mind has been made up. I ask you now. Mikoto, do you agree to this match?” 

There's only one answer. 

Mikoto nods, “Yes, I do, My Lady.” 

Otohime says, “I should hope that you find this match favorable, Heir Fugaku. Do you agree to this match?” 

“I do.”

Notes:

Reading Rec: Batman in Konoha by Vetrax. Mikoto and Fugaku are different from how I usually write them, but I still enjoy the work very much!

Chapter 10: Mikoto's Brother: Masato

The only sound in the dining room is the clinking of teacups on saucers. Without Ryuichi's comments, the family, now soon to be joined in marriage, falls under a spell of uneasy silence until Lord Hyuusuke decides to speak. 

“Those two…accepted quite easily, don't you think?” he muses. 

Lady Torbana asks,“Do you suspect they're planning something?” She looks at Akimomo, “Have you noticed anything suspicious regarding your sister?”

Presumptuous as hell, Masato thinks. Just because they’re the only girls doesn’t mean they’re the closest. As if Mikoto would tell Akimomo the Gossip anything about her love life. 

Akimomo and Kenta immediately straighten under the attention of Lady Uchiha. 

“We haven’t noticed anything amiss, my lady. I had simply thought Mikoto was showing a level of maturity.” 

Masato snorts, and Kenta shoots him a glare for it. 

“Mikoto is an obedient girl, at heart,” Otohime argues, “I am certain she is focused on carrying out her duty to the best of her ability. I am sure the two are trying to grow more familiar to discuss the best possible future.”

It’s a good political answer. She looks to her husband for support, but Sengen only shrugs. 

His only reprieve from this wretched lunch is that Ryuichi headed off to the bathroom not long after Mikoto and Fugaku left for their walk. The couple excused themselves, encouraged by their parents to discuss the marriage. Masato thinks they’re probably both just happy to be away from Ryuichi. 

Masato can’t say he likes the former heir to the Uchiha clan. Ryuichi is an arrogant, empty headed man. His negative energy throughout lunch ruined his appetite. Hell, the only one that is any fun in the Uchiha head family is Hyuusuke. That man does whatever he pleases. Even with his marriage as a chain around his neck, he isn’t bothered. 

Lord Hyuusuke says, “I suppose Fugaku has shown surprising fortitude.”

Naozomi tries to discreetly whispers to his wife, but Otohime catches it

“Is there something you wish to share with all of us?”

Naozomi sighs, “Mother, I just think this is nonsense. We should simply be grateful there wasn’t any more fuss. I say there’s no reason to jinx good fortune. I would like to go home. I mean no disrespect, you know how I tire easily.”

Their father, Sengen, adds his own input, “Mikoto has been rather sweet as of late.”

They’re not wrong there. 

Maybe Mikoto has been nicer and more patient than she usually is. 

Masato likes her as the prickly, vindictive, proud, sister he has, but…he’s well aware she is a bit different. She certainly didn’t react to her betrothal like he thought she would. There is something off, but Masato can’t quite put his finger on it. 

There is something going on. Masato is certain he caught Mikoto crying yesterday. She was trying to discreetly wipe her tears after Akimomo rudely dropped her son onto Mikoto’s lap. His big sister always tries to come out looking tough. 

Someone’s gotta look out for her. 

Naozomi and Akimomo are too wrapped up in their own lives. They think that Mikoto should always listen to their parents like a good daughter. They’re not the type to question their mother. It’s annoying that they don’t understand it at all. 

They don’t care that Mikoto is an astounding shinobi. Naozomi’s been retired for a while now and Akimomo never had any interest in taking up the sword. 

Mikoto’s different. The blade was made for her hand. Her jutsu mastery is an amazing sight to see. She’s always been quick and clever, especially over her own peers.

 It’s why the clan head favored her most of all. 

And they want to waste that talent, all those hours of training. They don’t think about it, or they don’t care. 

  It’s not fair.  

To their mother Otohime, Mikoto is just a bride that will serve as a gateway into the head family and that’s all. 

Masato really thought Mikoto would hate the idea as much as he does. He expected fire or at the very least some show of upset with the man their family dares chain her to. Fugaku had always been a teary know-it-all that’s too dull to be of interest to anyone. 

Yet, his sister smiled at him . 

Fugaku, who would've never spoken out against his brother before, defended her. 

It doesn’t make any sense. Masato’s still trying to wrap his mind around it. 

His big sister is the most stubborn person he knows, and yet she's claiming she wants to keep an open mind. Yeah right, like he believes that. Mikoto loves three things: sword fighting, lying, and bold curvaceous women. 

And yet, Mikoto walked outside with Fugaku with such a casual step一like she wanted to. 

It makes absolutely zero sense. 

 Masato has only one plan: to sip his tea and keep his mouth shut. 

Otohime asks, “Masato, have you noticed anything off about your sister?”

Shit. 

“The boy’s sweating.” Lord Hyuusuke laughs, “Do you know something then?”

Shit. 

The man isn’t known for his subtlety. 

Masato is torn. 

On one hand, his mother is glaring at him like wants to tear the information out of him herself. 

On the other hand, Mikoto probably would tear him apart for saying anything. 

He certainly can’t tell them the truth. He doesn’t even know how to put it into words. The only thing he wants to do is scrub the image from his memory. Masato knows he’s a man now at fifteen years old, but there’s still some things he’d rather not know about his own sister. 

So, he says part of it…but he still lies. 

“I saw Mikoto sneak out last night. I followed her. I didn’t want her getting into trouble or anything.”

He thought she’d be with Kushina. He  really hadn’t meant to spy. If anything, Masato hoped he’d catch her before any rendezvous and remind her that she’ll need to be back early. Mother would know if she didn’t come back rested enough to get ready for betrothal. 

Only… Mikoto wasn’t with Kushina. 

“She was with Fugaku.”

He thought they were just training. It would be rude to interrupt mid battle, so he waited. Masato waited to tell his sister, went and grabbed a late night snack, and cane back to find the two of them fucking. 

Uchiha Fugaku railing his sister is the absolute last thing Masato thought he would see that night. The sounds; Masato feels nauseous thinking about it. 

He doesn’t care if they saw him. Masato just wants to forget the whole thing. He plans to, no matter how many drinks it might take. No matter how insane the entire situation is, Masato never wanted to see that . It's bad enough Akimomo and her husband are probably planning on upping the clan numbers themselves and his room is right next to theirs. 

Even i f Mikoto somehow knew who she was going to be betrothed to, that still doesn't explain the absurdity of what he saw last night. He doesn't want to keep thinking about it. No way in hell he wants to discuss it. 

Mikoto is an adult. She can do whatever she pleases, at the end of the day it’s none of his business. 

Thankfully, Otohime seems to buy his half-truth tale. 

She croons, “oh our girl is so bright. She must've figured out our choice in her fiance. She must've wanted to get to know them a little.” 

Yeah, she got to know him really well.

Otohime distracts the conversation by bragging about Akimomo’s son. 

One small crisis averted. 

Masato ignores Naozomi’s suspicious glances and downs the rest of his tea. 

They’re all annoying. 

 

---

As they walk, they speak in the dialect of their Uchiha ancestors so that the general populace doesn’t understand. They are betrothed. It’s expected they’re seen together in public now. Mikoto knows it would embarrass him too much to do anything as audacious as hold hands, but she feels more content just being at his side. 

It’s a nice day. They’re not dead and  best of all the meeting had gone as well as could be expected. 

Mikoto says, “ You are going to be my husband, and I shall be your wife.”

“Indeed.” Fugaku replies, “So, what do we do now then?”

Mikoto hopes he doesn’t mean to imply they should start making heirs. 

Fugaku continues, “I want to save our family. I want to protect the clan better this time.”

Mikoto replies, “ I want to save Kushina. She is still my friend.”

Mikoto doesn’t know how they’re going to go about that, but there are no other options. They have to find a way. Why else would they be here, if not to try and be better the second time? 

“ We were too alone.” Fugaku says, “ I…I think it would be prudent of me to reach out to the other clan heirs. Many men I shall grow to know in the war have yet to even take headship of their clans.”

Men like Shikaku, Mikoto thinks. 

“Not an unfeasible plan, and not a poor one either. I think we should consider long term investments and secure trade deals as well. The hardest part last time was the stopped  supply shipments.”

“You’re always right.”

Perhaps not always, but Mikoto does like hearing it. 

Mikoto says, “ We shall keep the clan together. I promise you this, we know the darkness that is brewing within this village. I will not let it stand. If Kushina never loses the Kyuubi, then perhaps our descent will not come to pass.”

Miktoo doesn’t say the quiet part. There was resentment building even before the Kyuubi was unleashed, but the Uchiha will find a way to come back from it. 

She is comfortable with being ambitious. 

Now, there’s still that little nosy bastard Masato to deal with now. 

But Fugaku doesn’t need to worry about that. 

Chapter 11: Past Complexities

Kagawa Yukari is an elegant woman. Her thick dark hair is always worn in up-dos. Fugaku’s never seen her in anything but dresses and gowns. Even today, she's wearing a ruffled white blouse with a green velvet skirt. It’s modern, fashionable, and not at all proper for combat.

Yukari does not come from a shinobi family. 

Like Inoichi’s future wife, Yukari likes the finer things in life. These women are not kunoichi…not like Mikoto. They like jewelry, silk, parties; all the prosperity that peace brings. Yukari never grew fond of the idea of sending children to war, even when she wed a career shinobi. She learned not to say anything about it. 

 The Kagawa are a wealthy and reclusive family. Many men of the family, including the head, were killed in a border conflict. The cousins and daughters were married into other families to secure allies. The Uchiha are still a noble clan and not viewed in full disregard. They’re the strongest and wealthiest they’ll probably ever be. 

But Yukari did not marry into their clan for wealth or prestige. She already had that. 

She did it for Ryuichi. 

In Fugaku’s eyes, Ryuichi is not a good man, but he does adore Yukari. 

She still wants to be Ryuichi’s wife,  even after Torabana’s distaste for her grows with each passing day. 

Uchiha Yukari is the one name Torabana never called her, even after Ryuichi's death. 

She’s not a bad woman, far from it. Yukari wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

Perhaps that was part of the problem. 

There was no reasonable way for the coddled girl to gain the Dragoness’ favor. Uchiha Torabana respects strength, discipline, and control. Yukari…has none of those attributes, at least not on the surface. When Kengen joined the clan, he gave handcrafted gifts to the family. Yukari found many of their traditions superstitious. She had no interest in learning their stories or history. 

Maybe, if given the right encouragement…even if Torabana never warms to her, there's no reason not to try. The clan has to be stronger with the war coming, and all that comes with it. Fugaku is tired of fear holding him back. The decisions are his own. His choices must be his own and made without regret. 

It’s the only way forward from here. 

He told Mikoto he'd reach out to the other clan heirs, and he will, but Fugaku figures he should start at home. If anything, Fugaku thinks this is harder. The clan can’t be divided, not with all the trials to come. He isn’t even certain things can change at all, but Fugaku has to try. 

He raises his hand to wave, before he loses his nerve. 

And before people will think he’s strange for lingering around the district entrance for so long. 

He calls out, “Good afternoon, Lady Yukari.” 

Fugaku doesn't technically need to use a title. Yukari wasn't Lady Uchiha for long, but he can show her that much respect—she probably doesn't hear it often. She is still his brother’s wife. She deserves that much. 

Yukari waves, absentmindedly, like she expects him to greet her and keep walking. She has a letter in hand. The Uchiha’s hawkhouse would be faster, but she prefers the shinobi postal service. 

“How are you today?” He asks.

She always looked at him curiously, never sure what to make of Ryuichi’s elusive younger brother. 

Right now, she just looks startled and confused. It’s not like Fugaku tried to give her his best impression in the past, but he's going to give it his all now. Fugaku isn’t even sure if Yukari knows the extent his older brother despises him. Ryuichi always tries to behave in front of her. 

It doesn’t matter. 

Fugaku is going to be head of the clan. 

Yukari is a member of the Uchiha clan, whether his mother acknowledges it or not. 

She blinks, clearly befuddled. Yukari peers over her own shoulder, as if she expected him to be speaking to someone else but there's no one there. 

She says,“Excuse me?”

Gods, he must really not have ever tried to talk to her before 

Fugaku tries again. He asks,“are you doing well, Lady Yukari?”

“Well, thank you. I hope you forgive my tardiness. Congratulations on your engagement!”

He’s sorry she couldn’t attend, but he doesn’t say it. They both know why. There’s no need to rub salt into the wound. 

“Thank you, I am more than pleased with the match.” Fugaku says, with genuine joy, “Uchiha Mikoto, daughter of Otohime and Sengen, is to be my bride.” 

“She is beautiful beyond measure. You're a very lucky man, and she will be pleased to have you as her lord husband.” 

She's lying through her teeth. 

At this age, Mikoto probably never even looked in Yukari's direction. She wouldn't have dared to do anything to damage Torabana's favor. Mikoto never regarded Yukari with anything but polite distaste. 

Fugaku adores her. He does一but his wife can be a bit obvious in her dislike. And she wonders where Sasuke got it from. 

Yukari was Lady of the Uchiha clan for only a brief moment. 

Mikoto has been in line for the title long before Fugaku even dared look her in the eye. 

He says, “I should only hope my marriage is as happy as your own.”

Hopefully, blessed with more children. 

At this age. Ryuichi wouldn’t have come to terms with it yet. 

Yukari says, “You’re too kind, Lord Fugaku.” She’s blushing but trying to hide it behind her hand. “Was there something you required? I was running a quick errand, but I’d be happy to assist with whatever you require.”

Sweet woman, too sweet to have married a man like Ryuichi. 

Fugaku replies,“I had hoped we could have tea some time, and perhaps just talk. You are family now, and I thought that my betrothed and I should get to know everyone better. I thought that we could all learn about the clan, our history, together . After all, we will be leading the clan one day. ”

Ryuichi would probably take his words as an insult. He would think Fugaku’s rubbing it in.  He’d never hear a word of it, but Fugaku is banking on Yukari to be the more reasonable of the two.

Fugaku doesn’t know what she expected him to say, but it’s not that. 

“I…I would ask my dear husband. I must say that I am pleased. I can’t say I know Lady Mikoto quite well. I doubt Ryuichi would be that interested in history.” Yukari giggles, “You know he prefers his horse races over books.”

Speak of the devil. 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” 

Ryuichi shoves past him, pulling Yukari into his arms. Fugaku didn't even do anything, kept a respectable distance away, yet Ryuichu is glaring daggers. He’s making demands as if he hadn’t just interrupted like a child. 

God damn overprotective bastard. 

As a child, he always thought Ryuichi could sense it whenever he was up to something. He hasn't forgotten the betrothal dinner, even with all the booze he drank. 

Fugaku doesn’t want to get angry. There’s no point. He’s more annoyed than anything. There's so much work to do and his family seems intent to impede him at every turn.

 Is a little maturity too much to ask for?

“Ryu, I am having a conversation. Is that so wrong?”

Ryuichi says rudely, “I didn’t give you permission to speak to her. You aren’t fit to look at her, let alone speak to her.”

Fugaku wishes his elder brother were wise and caring and not the spiteful man he is. 

When he became a father himself, Fugaku dreaded his sons might get along the way he did with his own. 

Yukari strokes her husband’s cheek. “My dragon, please, it’s no trouble. He’s not bothering me. We were having a polite discussion. Your brother is to be wed, and he thought it would be nice for us to have tea with his betrothed."

Shit, Fugaku was hoping for just Yukari. 

Ryuichi replies softly,“If you wish, my dear. I shall.” 

Not even a single apology for interrupting, of course. 

He’s only saying that for her.  

Ryuichi doesn’t like Fugaku, but he truly despises Mikoto. 

As if they've forgotten Fugaku is there, Ryuichu pulls his wife into a loving kiss as he cradles his wife’s back. He probably just doesn’t care that Fugaku is there, dutifully ignoring him as always. When they separate,  the tenderness between them is clear. 

They do make a lovely couple. Ryuichi has higher cheekbones, prettier than him for sure, looking only more distinguished with age. He is in just black training fatigues today. Ryuichi usually dresses well, more fashion oriented than most —like Yukari. The more practical shinobi tend to keep to their uniforms, but there’s a reason Ryuichi is still only a chunin. 

Fugaku loves his big brother. He does, for all it never seems like Ryuichi feels the same. Fugaku’s older brother was an angry, sour boy that grew into a very bitter, spiteful man. 

Kagawa Yukari is probably the only person in the entire world that he does like. 

When Ryuchi turns his attention away from his wife, all that prior softness is gone. Fugaku feels like he can see the love fade as Ryuichi glares his way. 

“I have business with my little brother. If I may, sweet wife, could I borrow him for a moment?” 

Shit, Ryuchi is gonna try to kick his ass. 

There’s no getting out of this. Fugaku sighs, but he reluctantly follows. He doesn’t want to be dragged. They walk through the dense forests to the training grounds. Birds chirp overhead, but Fugaku can’t relax even on such a nice summer day. He never could be around his brother. Ryuchi’s irritation is practically rolling off in waves. 

Fugaku says, “I have no interest in your lady wife if that’s what your thinking.”

“Shut up.”

Fugaku persists, “I'm just saying—” 

Ryuichi cuts him off,“I said shut up.”

There’s no reason for this, but Ryuichi doesn’t care. If there isn’t an issue, he will find a way to make one. That's the kind of person he's always been. Fugaku wishes he didn’t feel as scolded as he does, but his older brother always had a talent for making him feel small. 

He had almost forgotten what it felt like. 

“I’m just saying…I think there’s zero need for jealousy.” Fugaku says, “I am engaged to be married. Yukari is pleasant but I have no interest in her.

Ryuichi chuckles, “You are to be wed to a sharp tongued brute of a woman. The biggest ego Mother could find in the Uchiha clan! I doubt your marriage will be pleasant.  How are you incapable of following a simple order? Isn’t that the one thing Mother likes about you?”

“What order did I not follow?” Fugaku demands. 

“Shutting your damn mouth.”

Fugaku is tired. He's tired of arguing. He's tired of the insults. He wishes more than anything he could've had a brother to confide in, a brother he could trust. 

But that's not Ryuichi. 

“I'm assuming you want to spar?” Fugaku asks.

When they were kids, Ryuichi used to beat his ass under the guise of sparring . Fugaku isn't really in the mood, but he also knows there's no talking his way out of it now. 

“You've been pretty entitled lately. Don't you think you need to be brought down a peg?” 

Condescending asshole, Fugaku thinks. 

Mikoto wouldn't wait, so Fugaku doesn't either. 

Pulling back his fist, Ryuichi doesn’t even anticipate the first hit. He’s not fast enough to stop the second. Fugaku doesn't hesitate for a third time, wanting the satisfaction of watching Ryuichi's head jerk back with such force. 

The hit doesn't land. Ryuichi grabs his arm, locking it behind his back with his own. Fugaku grunts as his shoulder pulls uncomfortably. 

Ryuichi barks, “I didn't say start!” 

“Fuck you!” Fugaku spits back,“ I don't even want to spar with you. Unlike some people, I actually have shit to do.”

Ryuichi chides, “watch your damn mouth, brat!” 

“You first!”

Fugaku manages to break free, sending a brutal kick to his brother's face. It lands, but Ryuichi recovers too quickly. 

He knocks Fugaku off his feet. He doesn’t hesitate. Ryuichi kicks Fugaku’s head in the dirt. His head slams against the ground as Ryuichi stomps on his temple. One hard stomp after another. Fugaku’s ears are ringing. He rolls away before the next kick falls. Standing again, even as he staggers. 

Fuck. 

He needs a minute. 

Fugaku manages to dodge the first punch, then the second. Even as they keep coming and Ryuichi is only getting angrier with each passing second. 

“Fucking fight me!”

Fugaku looks for the right opening. He just needs one . Ryuichi is still bigger than him, but Fugaku knows his moves well. Anger doesn't fuel him. When Ryuichi gets angry, he gets reckless and flippant. 

That's when Fugaku strikes. 

Sweeping Ryuchi's feet out from under him feels good . His body is younger, not as experienced, but Fugaku remembers f ighting. His body is untested, but his mind has been through war. There aren't old injuries hindering him anymore. He feels stronger than he has in a long time. 

This is nothing. 

Ryuichi is nowhere near as skilled as Mikoto. He's not as fast as Shisui. 

He's no Itachi.  

They're interrupted right as Ryuichi sends a fire style attack his way. Fugaku easily weaves out of the flames path even as he feels the warmth of the fire. 

Fugaku shouts, “We didn't agree to use jutsu!” 

Ryuichi yells back, “I didn't say shit!”

It's then he finally notices Shikaku standing there watching them.

“Ryuichi teases, “sneaking off with your little boyfriend, huh? What would mother say?” 

Fugaku won't even dignify that with a reply.

Shikaku responds for him. 

“Shut up, Ryuichi.” Shikaku retorts,“you're so troublesome. Aren't you too old to be bullying your brother?” 

Ryuichi was too old for it by the time Fugaku was born. 

Shikaku never cared about Ryuichi's opinion.  Even when they were very young, he was never afraid to stand up to Ryuichi.

He and Mikoto probably don't even realize they're similar, at least in that regard. 

Ryuichi grumbles,  “This doesn't concern you.” 

“I am friends with the heir to the Uchiha clan, so I think it does,” Shikaku replies.

Ryuichi's lip curls. He flicks his hand towards Shikaku dismissively before turning his attention back to Fugaku.

“Choke on his cock, I don't care.” He jabs Fugaku in the chest with a finger. “Yukari wants nothing to do with you. I sure as hell don't. Leave her alone, and I will leave you alone.” 

Sure, Fugaku believes that. Might as well look for flying pigs or Danzo to invite the clan to brunch while he's at. 

Ryuichi sends him one last disgruntled look before he turns to leave. He stomps away into the forest, probably to tell anyone who will listen how much of a fool his little brother is. 

“Fuck that asshole.” Shikaku says, “you alright?” 

Not really, no.  

Shikaku looks so young . He still wears his hair down at this age as it falls against his shoulders. His face has yet to gain scars and he doesn't have a beard yet. There's a softness in his face that will quickly fade away, but  he's barely a man now. 

The sight makes his chest ache. 

All the men and women he would fight beside—are still practically children. Yet they'll all be married with children themselves after the war ends.  

“How was your mission?” Fugaku asks.

Shikaku falls back into the grass, using his hands as a pillow. 

“Alright.” Shikaku replies, “lasted too long.” 

He takes a moment to stretch before he sits up again. Fugaku sits down beside him. 

Shikaku holds out his pack of smokes to him, one sticking up tantalizingly. Fugaku's fingers itch for it. His body is still thrumming with adrenaline from the impromptu sparring session. He really wants that smokey bitter taste on his tongue. 

But he thinks of Mikoto, and sighs. 

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“You quitting?” Shikaku asks. 

“Might as well.” Fugaku replies casually, “ I doubt my bride would like it, and it's not good to smoke cigarettes around children.”

There's no need to get into the habit again now. 

At least…Fugaku wants to be optimistic. He and Mikoto will have to discuss it in more indepth, privately. It is expected of them to provide at least one heir. Hell, in the past his mother insisted on at least three even if she never saw it come to pass. Torabana ranted and raved about how in the old days Uchiha men were expected to have large families. Fugaku held back from pointing out that the reason for it was because many children wouldn’t live past seven in the old days. 

Shikaku coughs and splutters as he inhales too much smoke. His hand that had been sneaking close to Fugaku’s leg yanks back as if it were burned. 

“Come on, Fugaku. Do we have to talk about that right now?”

Fugaku says,“You know I am to be married. It’s expected. Ryu has been set aside, and everything that was expected of him falls to me. I am serious. I was hoping I could tell my best friend about my betrothal.” 

They've been here before, and Fugaku didn't expect it to go any easier. He still doesn't want to go back to not talking. Even so, the Uchiha clan can't afford it either. 

Shikaku replies, “It's not like she's pregnant right now. What's one smoke?” 

“My duty is to my clan and now to my future family. I'm begging you to understand that. Please, old friend, I genuinely don't want this to turn into a fight.” Fugaku gestures in the direction Ryuichi stomped off in. “As you could see, I have more than enough of it with my darling brother.”

Shikaku is quiet for a moment. He’s sulking, but Fugaku can let it slide. Shikaku is young, and he’ll grow out of it. 

He says, “You seem different. Who is it then?”

Fugaku answers honestly,“Uchiha Mikoto.”

Shikaku takes a deep draw of his cigarette, savoring the taste as the breeze blew it back into his face. He lays back down in the grass. 

“Does she intend to say her vows from between Kushina’s legs?’ Shikaku asks. 

Fugaku hates how much hearing that from him stings. 

He replies, “Don’t be crude.”

Shikaku continues,“a coldhearted woman like that can't exactly keep your bed warm. I heard she can’t cook. Do you want a wife like that?”

Fugaku genuinely forgot Shikaku was like this. He thinks women are meant to act a certain way to be proper. Fugaku is not completely unaware of it. His own mother has very stern expectations when it comes to sex, duty, and honor. 

Fugaku asks, “Have you gotten to know your own wife any better?"

Yoshino has been vocal in her own complaints. She detests living with a stranger. Shikaku doesn't seem to care whether she us happy or not. 

Fugaku hadn't really wanted to know whether or not Shikaku consummated their marriage, but Yoshino still told him. 

Shikaku sighs, “is there a reason I should?" 

Aside from the obvious, Fugaku figures giving the smallest amount of effort would make the whole process more bearable.  Shikaku always knew he'd be married. 

It was always going to end like this. 

Shikaku scoffs,“It doesn't matter. Even if I'm married, it doesn't matter to me. You do. It didn't matter before. It doesn't now.” 

“Shikaku…we've talked about this.”

Even in the past, Fugaku had this same argument with him again and again. He's not the forgotten second born son anymore. Maybe he would've kept up their relationship, talked about it with Yoshino, if Ryuichi was still first in line. 

But that wasn't meant to be. 

Fugaku has a duty to his clan, and his family. All their expectations, all their hopes and dreams, are his to carry. 

Even so, Mikoto can be a bit possessive too. She tries to hide it but Fugaku knows she can't really stand Shikaku for longer than thirty minutes. 

He genuinely doesn’t want an affair. He might have kissed Hizashi a few times during the war, but his marriage was still new then. They still hadn’t known each other well.  They  didn’t share much aside from Itachi. Mikoto often left Fugaku along with the baby to sneak a moment with Kushina. 

That’s the past, a sweet, hard, and nostalgic past—but things are different now. 

Fugaku knows his time with Shikaku is firmly in the past too. When they were young, Fugaku thought no one was smarter than Shikaku. Shikaku was brave, talented, and so handsome. He’s still all those things, but Shikaku is also arrogant, impatient, and blatantly dislikes women. 

Really, he just thinks women should be sweet, demure, and capable of taking care of both her husband and children. Any woman who doesn't fit in that mold—are deemed aggressive harpies. It’s all conceptual, and silly. Fugaku thinks it's another reason Shikaku doesn’t like Mikoto. 

It wasn't until they were fully grown did Fugaku realize that they disagree on quite a few things. 

Shikaku thinks children should be seen and not heard. Fugaku actually likes kids, even if he doesn't have the chance to engage with them often. They're cute and funny. His own were the pinnacle example of wonderful children. 

As he grew, Fugaku did realize that he and Shikaku were always different people. 

There was love, of course, and Shikaku always accepted Fugaku for who he is. 

But it's still not the same. 

Fugaku misses his friendship, more than anything, even with all Shikaku’s faults but he can't imagine his life without Mikoto.

He’d rather never see the sun shine again then live a life without Mikoto at his side. 

Shikaku changes the subject, “Well, then as your friend, I want to know what made you think you could go toe to toe with Ryuichi. He always fights dirty, you know that.”

Fugaku replies, “I thought I did fine.” 

Shikaku chuckles. 

“You actually did. I'm proud.” 

“Thanks.”

Shikaku's smile is a bit too fond to be friendly, but Fugaku can let it slide. 

For Shikaku, it must feel like they've only just ended their relationship. The pain is a fresh wound. 

For Fugaku, it's been years.