Chapter Text
At precisely five minutes to 7 p.m., Yamanaka Ino packed her chakra blades, her stiletto heels, and her panties in a bag and dashed over the rooftops quicker than a shadow to the Akimichi Compound for tonight’s all-clan banquet.
“Shit, come on,” she groaned, feeling her updo come undone with the wind as she left a trail of bobby pins and split hair bands in her wake. No use worrying about them now when there were more important things to worry about, like her father’s imminent disappointment with her tardiness to the third clan-related gathering in a month.
It was just supposed to be a quickie, something to let off some steam before an evening spent in the company of peacocking old men. She wasn’t even sure how they’d lost track of the time, although having to hunt for her passionately abandoned panties that had somehow made their way onto the bedside lampshade certainly hadn’t sped up the process. Now she was going to be late and she’d have to make her excuses winded and without wearing any underwear if she ran into anyone.
Luckily, Ino knew the Akamichi Compound as if it were her own, having grown up running around its halls and surrounding gardens alongside her childhood friend and former teammate, Akimichi Chouji. The main banquet hall was brightly lit against the encroaching darkness as well-dressed guests gathered near the entrance for the evening’s formalities. Ino skirted it and landed in the vegetable garden near the south entrance, her bare feet silently bearing her weight in the grass. She held her breath and extended her keen senses—large chakra signatures ambled about in the halls, likely Akimichi Clan members who were not invited to tonight’s gathering. To her relief, most of the chakra signatures were concentrated in the banquet hall itself, making sneaking in through the side hall much easier.
Some god was taking pity on her cross-village commando sprint, because Ino found a washroom off the staff’s entrance completely unoccupied. She shuffled herself inside, locked the door behind her, and took a couple precious seconds to just breathe.
Her hairdo was a lost cause, but the backless, formal pant suit she wore would work with it down too. Hastily, she combed out the remaining bobby pins from her long, blonde hair and twisted it into a messy braid over her shoulder. The pant suit itself slipped off in one fluid drop, and she quickly donned her underwear before re-dressing. How long had that taken, two minutes? Three? Gods, she was late.
But not late enough not to touch up her lipstick and admire the curve of her waist in the mirror.
Satisfied that she at least looked like she’d put in the minimum effort for a chic evening party and less like she’d just come from banging her unofficial lover in his studio apartment across town, Ino squared her shoulders and headed for the banquet hall.
Having opted for the staff entrance, she was not immediately noticed. It gave her precious seconds to duck out of the way of shrewd guests like Aburame Shibi and Chouji’s mother, who seemed to have a nose for mischief and every intention of interrogating it until it was dead in the water.
The banquet hall was lavishly decorated as befitted tonight’s auspicious occasion. The Akimichi staff had decorated the vaulted room with the clan’s traditional burgundy and brown colors. A huge tapestry bearing the clan’s sigil hung over the raised dais at the back of the room, where the four Noble Clan representatives would sit in the place of honor with their guests. Despite the formal occasion, there was a homeliness about the scene with its warm colors and low lighting and the smell of roasted meats and pastries that reminded Ino of being ten years old and sneaking lemon tarts from the kitchens. Chouji’s mother had cut her chops chasing Chouji and her, along with their infamous troublemakers-in-crime Nara Shikamaru, Inuzuka Kiba, and Uzumaki Naruto, from the kitchens with their pilfered treats.
Ino snatched a meat pastry from a passing server and groaned as the flavor filled her mouth. When the Akimichi Clan hosted, the food was always top notch. The last quarterly all-clan meeting had been held at the Hyuuga Compound, which had been just as stuffy and bleached as one might imagine from a clan that historically enslaved half its members and had a nearly unbroken, four-generation streak of inbreeding to preserve the sanctity of their bloodline limit. There had been nary a meat pastry in sight, to say the least.
Ino had just managed to swipe a champagne flute when she nearly bumped into someone.
“Ino, fashionably late as usual. Which is to say, you are quite fashionable and also quite late at the same time.”
Ino cocked her hip. “What are you talking about, Shino? I’ve been mingling.”
Aburame Shino struck a handsome figure in the traditional haori hakama he wore this evening, in contrast to the modern styles the majority of guests had opted for. He had kept his trademark sunglasses in place, however, so black Ino was amazed he could see anything at all.
“Mingling with the food, maybe.”
Ino rolled her eyes at Kiba, who was never far from Shino at these gatherings which he detested about as much as Ino herself. Even his giant ninja hound, Akamaru, was not with him. Ino sank her proverbial claws into that observation.
“Where’s Akamaru? If you’re crashing, I’m surprised he’s not chasing your heels,” Ino said.
Kiba grinned, flashing a sharp canine. Like her, he was dressed in modern attire tonight, his dark suit simple but well-cut on his shinobi’s figure. He even looked like he’d showered in the last 48 hours. Good for him. “Protection duty. We’re trading off.”
“I hardly think Hana-senpai needs protection, from you or otherwise,” Shino said.
“Gotta agree with Shino on that one, bud,” Ino said, pleased that she had successfully steered the conversation away from her dilatory entrance.
“Hey, hey! She’s the heiress, and I’m her bodyguard. It’s basically the most important job there is.”
“Is it, though?” Ino asked.
“Ah, Inoichi-san, I found her.” Shikamaru’s raised voice cut through the crowd of guests, and Ino whirled. Shikamaru shot her a look across the way that was all the warning she would get from him, because her father and his bodyguard were marching across the room toward her, champagne glasses sloshing dangerously.
“Oh, fuck,” Ino muttered, and also: “Thank you,” telepathically to Shikamaru, who just nodded grimly.
Ino downed her champagne and placed the empty flute on a passing server’s tray, even though he was carrying canapés and gave her a weird look.
Shino and Kiba had disappeared entirely, because they were cowards.
Her father was upon her then in all his broad-shouldered, ponytailed glory. “Ino,” he said in his very serious Dad Voice.
“Uh, hi, Dad. Did you try the meat pastries? They’re amazing.”
He took her hand and pulled her aside where they would not be overheard. His bodyguard for the evening, Yamanaka Santa, met her gaze over Inoichi’s shoulder—icy blue on blue—and shook his head minutely. It wasn’t much, but it told Ino everything she needed to know about how to proceed.
“Where have you been?” Inoichi hissed. “This is the third incident in just this month!” He looked around, afraid he’d attracted attention, but they had found a quiet corner and no one appeared to pay them any mind. “Well?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Ino said, contrite and fixing her face so he would know it. “I got here as quickly as I could. I was only a few minutes late.”
“A few minutes is an eternity on a night like tonight.”
Ino set her jaw. Santa glanced at her, but he gave her nothing but a look of quiet resignation. “I know it is. I really am sorry. I swear it won’t happen again.”
If she had to forego panties entirely the next time she dropped in on Shiranui Genma ahead of any clan events, she would do it. She loved her father and respected his position that much.
Inoichi looked at her like he knew what she was thinking, but Ino was positive he did not; she could sense when another Yamanaka probed her with the Mind Reading Technique, and her father would never do such a thing without her permission. But that didn’t mean Yamanaka Inoichi didn’t have killer Dad Senses all the same.
“You’ll be twenty-one next spring,” he continued. “Old enough to marry and take a greater role in clan politics.”
“Dad,” Ino said, a warning in her tone.
“It isn’t me you should quibble with. Like it or not, there are appearances to be maintained. I know you understand this.”
Ino understood it very well. She had been raised to understand that her birthright, her gender, even her status as a Jounin, a top shinobi of Konoha, were all beholden to appearances. Her own mother understood it when she’d quit her job as a Chuunin and married her father and popped out an heir nine months later.
“We’ll discuss this later,” Inoichi said with less of an edge but no less hard. “For now, let’s just get through this evening with all the grace befitting the Yamanaka Clan.”
Ino lowered her chin in true contrition. She would get an earful from him later, and she would deserve it. Three times demonstrating a lack of commitment was three times too many, and he was already too gracious with her, to hear her mother tell it. But Ino was determined that it would also be the last time. “Understood.”
Inoichi squeezed her hand in his, and she felt his mind reach for hers, cool and soft as a stream on a hot, summer day: “I love you, Ino.”
She squeezed him back. “I love you too, Dad.”
Santa gave her a pointed look when she and Inoichi parted, and Ino elbowed him discreetly. She could tell he wanted to ruffle her hair like he always did when she was a girl and he was Cool Cousin Santa who’d just been promoted to ANBU as the youngest Yamanaka clansmen ever to achieve the honor, but he never would have dared mess up her hair at a party. Instead, he nudged her back and tailed after Inoichi with a parting “Stay sharp” that rang in her head.
He would keep an eye on her, she knew. He always knew where she was, and she could always reach him if she needed. One of the perks of being born a Yamanaka, and one of the reasons why she and her father often brought only Santa to these types of inter-clan gatherings while the Hyuuga and the Aburame brought platoons of bodyguards. Between Santa, the Nara Clan, the Akimichi Clan, and the Sarutobi Clan, however, Ino felt pretty safe among friends even in the exceedingly unlikely event that a disagreement could escalate to violence. It had been known to happen, but that was before her time. Ever since the Uchiha Clan lost nearly two-thirds of its members to a horrific overnight massacre years ago, most of whom had been able-bodied shinobi making up the now defunct Konoha Police Force, there had been no incidents.
Probably because the Hyuuga felt supremely uncontested strutting about these gatherings, deeming themselves the unofficial leaders and moderators of meetings such as these.
Speak of the devil.
There he was, Hyuuga Hiashi, the Overlord Prime himself, schmoozing over champagne with Aburame Shibi and Inuzuka Tsume, trailing Branch House bodyguards like a bridezilla’s wedding train. It wasn’t even that Ino knew Hiashi enough to personally dislike him. His politics were old school and conservative, his clan’s traditions primeval and weird, and none of that was her business. But what was her business was that he was a sour, pinched sort of man set in his ways and entirely unable to have a conversation about anything other than the weather. Like he was that paranoid about discussing anything with anyone who was not a Hyuuga and therefore sworn to unconditional ass-kissing.
Ino decided she did not have enough champagne in her to entertain these black thoughts, so she went in search of libations and also Inuzuka Hana, who was objectively the coolest person at any of these events and always had some hot gossip to swap.
She found champagne, but not Hana.
“Ino-chan!” said Hyuuga Hinata, dolled up in full kimono with pearls shimmering in her hair and studded through her ears to beautifully complement her eyes. “You have to help me!”
Ino genuinely startled at being accosted by sweet, diffident Hinata, of all people. “I do?”
Hinata’s personal guard and cousin, Hyuuga Neji, appeared behind her in a traditional, black yukata that did him every single favor under the sun. He steadied Hinata as she reeled back, apparently more surprised by her audacity than Ino was.
“Oh, gods,” Hinata stammered. “I didn’t mean—you don’t have to, of course—”
“Hinata-sama,” Neji said, calm as still waters. It mollified her a little, but not much.
“Whoa, chill, Hinata,” Ino said, careful to keep her voice kind. “Let’s get you a drink, and you can tell me what’s going on, okay?”
Hinata flushed, embarrassed by her outburst, which only intrigued Ino even more. What could be so important that it would make Hinata, of all people, seek her out with such a demand?
Ino caught Neji’s pale eyes with a questioning look, but she may as well have been trying to communicate with a really hot statue.
A server with a tray of champagne flutes passed them, and Neji miraculously grabbed one for Hinata, while Ino grabbed one for him because he definitely was not going to do it himself. She shoved the flute at Neji with a pointed look, and he accepted it with little (but very visible) protest.
Appearances and all.
“Come on,” Ino said, leading Hinata by her elbow to an empty standing table where they could speak with some privacy. “Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”
Hinata sipped her champagne. From the flush in her cheeks, Ino wondered if this wasn’t her first glass. She looked up at Neji again and placed her hand on his wrist.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” she communicated to him.
Neji shuddered. He had been subjected to Ino’s technique plenty of times on shared missions over the years, but it seemed he would never warm up to the invasion into his mind. “Nothing. She is distraught. I suggested you might be able to help, since clearly I cannot.”
Ino’s expression softened. She squeezed Neji’s wrist with affection she hoped he could sense, and he held her gaze. A hot statue he may be, but there was no denying that he loved his cousin and would do anything to help her.
Hinata seemed to have calmed down a bit as she nursed her champagne and gathered her wits. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice tinny and soft. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
Ino shifted her attention completely to Hinata and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t even worry about it, Hinata. You just surprised me is all. I don’t think I’ve seen you so fired up in a while. It was pretty cool, actually.”
“It was?”
Ino grinned. “It’s a good look for you, I think.”
“Oh…” Hinata flushed anew.
“Hinata-sama,” Neji prodded gently. “About the matter regarding Uchiha Itachi.”
Ino shivered at that name—Uchiha Itachi. Her proclivity for details flared with a nearly tangible force, tingling in her palms and her lips that she bit to force herself to stay cool. What in the world could the heiress to the Hyuuga Clan have to do with the reclusive, mysterious leader of the culled Uchiha Clan? Ino’s sharp eyes swept the room in search of the man in question. He always attended these events with dutiful consistency, was always cordial when spoken to, and yet maintained few personal ties to anyone from any of the other clans despite being the leader of one of the four Noble Clans that had founded their great village. Ino herself had spoken to him on a number of occasions, enough to consider him a politely distant tritagonist in her life’s play, but nothing beyond that. He seemed to radiate a reverse gravitational force, expelling anyone who came too close. In a sense, Ino could sort of understand given that he’d born witness to the majority of his family being slaughtered in a single, horrific night years ago. That sort of thing was bound to change a person in fundamental ways.
Hinata wiped her mouth and her damp hand found Ino’s. Her beautiful, lilac eyes were wide but not with fear as she held Ino’s gaze. “My father has disinherited me.”
Ino choked on her champagne.
“What?” she coughed out. Neji looked like he wanted to pat her back for how she was hacking up a lung.
Hinata withdrew again. “He… He’s named Hanabi heir.” She blinked rapidly. “I-It’s fine! I’m okay with it. I’m…happy for my sister.”
Ino stared at her longtime friend and fellow heiress (former heiress). “Well, I’m fucking not.”
Neji pursed his lips in disappointed solidarity, which told her all she needed to know about his own thoughts on this totally batshit turn of events.
“No, really,” Hinata insisted. “Hanabi… She’s an extraordinary kunoichi. Just fifteen and already a Jounin. I’m so proud of her.”
Ino could see that she really was. And Hanabi was fine, she supposed. Definitely strong, a prodigy if ever there was one, maybe even as good as Neji himself and with better breeding. Ino frowned at the thought.
Appearances.
But Hinata didn’t deserve to be disinherited just because her sister was the better kunoichi. She was strong too. She had worked hard, had shed blood, sweat, and tears to master the Byakugan’s strongest techniques and do her clan proud. Ino remembered the day Hinata made Jounin last year, the last but not least of their year mates, how she and Neji and Hinata’s former Genin team had watched the trials together with Ino’s best friend, Haruno Sakura, and Naruto. They had cheered and screamed until their voices ran hoarse, and afterwards they had celebrated at the Bent Kunai, their favorite bar in town, with the rest of the shinobi from their Academy year who’d come up with Hinata. Even their year’s resident prodigy, the normally unsociable and taciturn Uchiha Sasuke, had shown and congratulated Hinata himself, making her blush into her beer like a school girl for the rare praise.
“Is there nothing that can be done?” Ino asked softly, knowing full well there probably wasn’t. Clan heads wielded enormous power within the purview of their families and those in thrall to them, the Hyuuga being no exception.
It was Neji who answered. “No,” he said, and there was a tranquil sort of anger there that had had time to burn and rage, only to simmer now, controlled but no less hot.
Ino hugged Hinata. “I’m so sorry.”
Hinata hugged her back. “I’m okay, really,” she insisted. “I was surprised. I think… I was just so used to being the heiress and everything that came with that, that it was just…a shock.”
Understatement of the century.
Ino wasn’t sure how she’d handle such a bomb being dropped on her out of the blue by her own father, no less. Hiashi probably would have done it the first time she was late to a clan event, her excuses be damned.
But then, her father was no Hyuuga Hiashi.
“What can I do?” Ino asked, because hell if she wouldn’t do anything to help Hinata now.
Hinata regained herself and looked up at Ino with determination. “There is something…”
“Tell me.”
“My father… He wants me to marry. Since I’m not the heiress anymore, there are, well… I have more options. Options Hanabi doesn’t have. And, um, well, Uchiha-sama is a powerful shinobi from a Noble Clan.”
Of course.
It made perfect, frightening sense. Hiashi wanted a strong heir, but he also wanted an advantageous marriage to strengthen his clan’s position. The Uchiha had always been direct competition, even a threat to the Hyuuga Clan’s supremacy in Konoha up until the Massacre. But even now, with their numbers reduced to young children, untrained women, and ailing elders, their name carried a certain clout. Their bloodline limit, the Sharingan, carried even more. Itachi and his brother, Sasuke, were the only Jounin-level, adult shinobi in the clan right now as they waited for the younger generation to mature, but the two of them were lauded as among the strongest shinobi in Konoha. Itachi himself was regarded as among the best Konoha had ever produced, no small praise. And as the head of the clan without any viable prospects among his own people, he was ripe for the picking for an advantageous marriage, he and Sasuke both.
Of course Hiashi would be gunning to marry Hinata off to the leader of the venerated Uchiha Clan and one of the most powerful shinobi to have ever lived. Hinata was disinherited to become nothing but a political pawn, a dowry to be collected. And the Hyuuga would have a strong inroad into the Uchiha Clan’s future through her, consolidating their power and influence in Konoha even more. It was a cunning strategy, Ino had to admit. But it was also cruel and fucked up, given how the option had been put on the table.
“Ino,” Neji said.
Comfort her, he might have entreated her. For surely, there was nothing Ino could truly do beyond commiserate. Hiashi was a powerful man who usually got what he wanted. What could a couple of women and an indentured Hyuuga Branch House shinobi do to him?
“Hinata,” Ino said. “Do you like Itachi-san? Have you spoken to him about this?”
Hinata’s eyes went wide. “N-No! Of course not! I mean, I haven’t spoken to him. I’ve never really said more than a few words to him. He seems polite…”
“…But obviously you’re not interested in getting betrothed to a man you don’t even know.”
Hinata averted her gaze like she was ashamed. Ino felt the sudden urge to shake her, to tell her there was nothing to be ashamed of and the only person who ought to feel ashamed was her father for putting her in this despicable situation. But Hinata spoke again before Ino got the chance.
“I’m sure Uchiha-sama is a nice person,” she said softly, “but I couldn’t…trap him in my father’s political machinations. It wouldn’t be right after everything he and—and Sasuke-kun have been through. I don’t even know him…” She downed the rest of her champagne, which was not much. “I don’t know what to do.”
Neji was quiet. On missions, when he was her captain and she, Shino, and Tenten would be dispatched to divest a criminal enterprise of its darkest, dirtiest secrets, he was also quiet. But he was never one to withhold his honest opinion, either. He withheld it now, communicating only in looks his distaste for the whole ordeal. But his disapproval would not help Hinata out of this impossible situation.
Perhaps Ino could.
“Okay,” Ino said. “Okay, let’s hash this out. What is Hiashi planning tonight?”
Hinata looked so relieved and Ino was tempted to hug her again. “Nothing too forward, I think. Just…um…” Her eyes traveled to the dais at the top of the room. “I’m supposed to sit with Uchiha-sama. As his…guest.”
“Does he know about this?”
“I’m not sure.”
The four Noble Clans often rotated “guests” to be seated with them at the head of the gathering, all in the name of facilitating inter-clan communication while conferring honor to the founding families. It was all a bunch of trumped up bullshit if you asked Ino, but for tonight, it might actually serve her purposes. Her father of course had been honored in such a manner numerous times in the past, and sometimes the heir to a clan would receive the honor to dine with the Nobles, though it was less common. Well, tonight they would put on a display no one was expecting, and all within the confines of honor and tradition.
“I have an idea,” Ino said.
Neji looked nervous insofar as an exceptionally good-looking statue could. “Will it compromise Hinata-sama?”
Ino smirked. “Not if I play my cards right. And I always do.”
“How?” Hinata said, awed.
“Just relax, Hinata. Enjoy the party. Drink more champagne.” Ino smoothed her hands down the plunging V-neck of her haltered pant suit until they came to rest in a power pose on her hips. “I got you.”
“Thank you.” Hinata’s voice was so soft it was almost indiscernible over the high Koto harp music strumming away in the center of the room. “Ino-chan, I’m… I’m sorry. Thank you.”
Ino parted from her friends with not quite a plan in mind, but not not a plan. Shikamaru probably would have hard passed, and Chouji wouldn’t know where to start. But as with torture and interrogation, the human factor of things often necessitated some improvisation, and in this Ino excelled like none other. She finished her champagne, checked that her tits were elevated to prime viewing position in her jumper, and went to find Chouji to cash in on a favor he owed her.
Itachi detested these inter-clan gatherings like he detested split ends: they were an inevitability of his existence and best resolved with a clean and decisive cut. He held himself with all the decorum and manners that his station required of him, and as soon as he deemed it safe to leave a conversation without offending anyone, he did so swiftly and without hesitation. It wasn’t that he disliked his fellow clan shinobi; on the contrary, he understood how important it was to maintain civil relations among themselves, having personally witnessed the bloody consequences of deterioration of the same. But he simply was not cut out for these networking events the way he was for assassinations and stealth missions. People were far more complicated when they were still breathing.
Only his personal guard for the evening, Uchiha Furi, a Chuunin of fourteen, accompanied him, and only then as a formality. No doubt she was off enjoying the hors d’oeuvres somewhere, watching him discreetly for any sign that he might need her (he would not, but it would be good for her to get the political and social experience).
He had asked Sasuke to attend him tonight, since the clan elder, Teru, was too tired after recovering from a cold. Sasuke had looked genuinely sorry when he said he had plans with Naruto and Sakura already, but not sorry enough to cancel. Of course Itachi would never begrudge his brother a night out with his closest friends. He was happy that Sasuke had them in his life. They were a good influence on his laconic younger brother who Itachi feared took too much after their father at the worst of times. So he had come alone tonight, not a confidant in sight.
Perhaps that was why Hyuuga Hiashi had picked this meeting to strike.
Itachi was not dense. He understood that marriage was just another move in the political game they all played, and one day he too would not be able to put it off anymore. Twenty-five now, he was due to pick a wife sooner rather than later and restore his clan like he’d promised himself and Sasuke he would do in time. So when Hiashi approached him and asked if he would be amenable to formally meeting his eldest daughter tonight, Itachi had not objected. Hiashi was not an enemy he wanted, and one dinner was hardly an eternal vow. He would meet the girl, politely show her he was not interested, and save her face with her father. She could blame it all on Itachi, save herself her father’s wroth, and everyone would walk away no worse off.
If Teru were here, she’d probably be boxing his ears for shirking such an immaculate opportunity.
But she wasn’t, and anyway, he was the head of the Uchiha Clan. He could do what he wanted when it came to his personal life, within reason.
Itachi smiled as he sipped his wine, allowing himself this small, petty self-congratulation on his own status. He did not often get the opportunity.
Dinner was to be served, an Akimichi staff person announced. Itachi immediately took the opportunity to excuse himself from the small talk he’d been roped into with a few Nara clansmen and made his way to the dais. As soon as he sat in the plush chair that had been designated for his occupancy at the center-left of the long table facing the rest of the room, a staffer appeared to offer him libations of his choice. He accepted a refill of the wine he had been sipping and waited as the others took their seats amidst a chorus of conversation.
The Konoha Elder Utatane Koharu was given the place of honor in the center as tonight’s guest. Itachi watched as Akimichi Chouza greeted her with a very low bow and flowery language, followed by Aburame Shibi, who was less obsequious in his welcome but no less respectful. Itachi did not so much as rise from his seat or spare her even a nod. She would not have expected anything else from him, anyway. He was grateful for the several bodies in between them so that he would not have to interact with her.
People found their seats as the Koto harp struck a new tune, and Itachi sat back in his chair and waited for this to be over. Shibi and his guest for the evening, a Sarutobi clansman, took their places to Itachi’s left, and he greeted them politely. The staff served a small appetizer as everyone settled in, something smoked and divine-smelling. The Akimichi always hosted the best dinners, if nothing else.
When at last the chair to his right slid out, Itachi steeled himself for an hour of being more talkative than he was used to, not wanting to offend Hiashi. It wasn’t the girl’s fault, and Itachi had no interest in being sour with her to soothe his own dour mood. But the sight of the person who had slid in next to him gave him pause.
“Are you going to eat that?”
The woman who sat next to him chewed and swallowed the food she’d been served and now looked between him and his own untouched plate.
“I…don’t have much of a taste for smoked beef tongue,” he said, which was the truth.
She shrugged and speared the rolled up bundle of smoked meat and herbs from his plate with her utensils. Itachi watched her eat it without a shred of hesitation, totally unashamed. She swallowed the bite with a smile and said, “Thanks.”
Itachi studied the woman: beautiful, confident, bold. Very blonde. He recognized her. “Yamanaka Ino.”
She eyed him askance as she sipped a glass of sparkling water and smirked. “Uchiha Itachi.”
She was not who he had expected tonight, and from the looks of it, neither had Hiashi. The Hyuuga patriarch had taken his seat in between his younger daughter, Hyuuga Hanabi to Ino’s immediate right, and Elder Koharu, who immediately engaged him in polite conversation. Itachi suspected something of a coup had taken place. He didn’t know Ino well, merely in passing acquaintance by virtue of their shared clan nobility status, but he knew she had a reputation for being somewhat aggressive and outspoken in her opinions. And he knew of her close friendships with several other clan heirs, some of whom were her year mates from the Academy.
“You should have tried it while you had the chance,” Ino said, nodding her chin toward his now empty plate.
Itachi was honestly at a loss. He had geared himself up for an awkward evening with a girl who was undoubtedly being served up as a candidate for his future bride against her wishes. And here was Ino, seemingly of her own bizarre volition for reasons unknown to him (or Hiashi, who seemed to be fighting a losing battle with the vein in his forehead thumping strong and prominent whenever he glanced Ino’s way).
Interesting.
Itachi went with it.
“My loss,” he said softly. “I’ll be quicker with the next one.”
She brandished her knife at him. “See that you are.”
Ino went back to her water, and they were served the next course, which was a cold medley of garden fruits and vegetables, no doubt freshly harvested this morning. Itachi picked up his utensils, but Ino’s hand appeared out of nowhere and impaled the only slice of white peach sitting delicately on top of the presentation and brought it to her mouth.
“Too slow, Itachi-san,” she said. “I thought you were supposed to be some kind of prodigy.”
Itachi watched as she took a generous bite and swallowed.
(Now she is just being crass.)
Why?
He decided to ask her, because Itachi understood the power of truth wielded with targeted and ruthless precision. “Are you flirting with me?”
Ino coughed. Her cough turned into a laugh. She drank the rest of her sparkling water. “You are too serious. Just as they say.”
Itachi did not react to this. He was not sure how to.
Luckily, Ino did not seem to need him to. “Relax,” she said, and she shoveled her own untouched peach slice onto his salad in recompense. “I’m just making friendly conversation. Here, an eye for an eye, see?”
Itachi looked between Ino’s laughing eyes and the juicy, white peach she had given him. He picked it up with his fingers—it was chill to the touch. With a last look at her, he brought it to his mouth and bit it in half.
Ino didn’t so much as fluster.
Itachi swallowed the fruit (absolutely delicious, he would have to compliment Chouza and his wife before he left for the evening). He wiped his mouth and watched Ino watching him.
“All right,” he said. “I’m listening.”
She wanted something, clearly. What he could possibly give her, he couldn’t being to guess. He didn’t even know her well. But it seemed she had gone through some trouble to wind up seated next to him at this important dinner where people would see them, watch them.
Ino smiled and leaned closer, like they were two friends sharing a secret. “Hyuuga Hinata.”
“You’re in her seat.”
“She was disinherited.”
Itachi did not react. Quietly, he processed that information. It must have been recent, perhaps even tonight, otherwise he surely would have heard of it. But then why would Hiashi offer her like he was trying to make a match? Unless…
Ah.
“I see,” he said.
Ino looked at him in a way that told him she understood. “Yeah, so. You know.”
Itachi glanced discreetly at Hiashi, who was straining to maintain a mild smile as Elder Koharu spoke to him of municipal tax reform. Briefly, he imagined a life where this man would be his father-in-law, a man he would be obliged to consult in future affairs concerning the Uchiha insomuch as they affected his daughter and her children—Itachi’s children. An unavoidable situation, but…there were admittedly much less disagreeable men to fill that position than Hiashi.
But none of that explained Ino.
“Why do you care?” he asked, leaning his chin on his palm.
“She’s my friend.”
The fierceness in Ino’s tone surprised him. Sure, they were year mates, and that seemed to count for something if Sasuke’s own friendships were anything to go by, but they were not teammates. He didn’t know Ino, admittedly, so he couldn’t know her heart’s loyalties. But her conviction struck him. She cared about Hinata’s feelings more than she did for clan politics, and Itachi found that he respected that about her on a personal level. He did not tell her this, of course.
“I’m sure her father would not take such a sentiment into consideration.”
Ino indicated herself. “Ergo, me.”
Itachi took a moment to ponder that, but before he could respond to her, he was accosted by more clansmen looking to greet him and welcome him to the Akimichi household. More food arrived as well, and Itachi was obliged to eat it while he could so as not to offend. Beside him, Ino was all smiles as she complimented the server on her manicure, inquired about the fall harvest and which vegetable had come out the most robust, and more. She had a smile and something interesting to say for everyone no matter their station or job, and everyone offered her warmth in return.
“Oh, no beef tongue for Itachi-san, please,” Ino said as they were served their next course.
“Oh! Of course, please allow me…” The server swapped a platter with his attendant and served Itachi from it.
When they left, Itachi said, “That wasn’t necessary.”
“Why not? You said you don’t like it. No reason to suffer.”
Itachi studied her between bites of food, not trusting her for a second no matter her reasons. “What do you want?”
“Right now? A glass of wine. I think the red would pair well with this—excuse me?” She flagged down a server for a drink.
Itachi waited until they were alone again. “I mean, what do you want from me?”
Ino sipped her wine and cut into her food again. “Why do you assume I want something?”
“Most people do,” he said. “Especially from me.”
“That kind of sucks, don’t you think?”
“How do you mean?”
She finished cutting her food, and he waited for her to chew and swallow. A light blush and a small smile told him she found it absolutely delicious. When she turned back to him, though, she looked quite serious. “I mean, if you have to filter every interaction you have with people through the lens of quid pro quo, that sucks. You can’t meet anybody just for the fun of it.”
Itachi could not remember the last time he had met anyone purely for fun, rather than for political or professional reasons. Perhaps when Sasuke had introduced him to Naruto and Sakura, but that was years ago. “That’s a little naïve coming from an heiress apparent, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s a matter of perspective.” Ino indicated the room with her wine glass. “What they’re perceiving right now seeing us together is totally different from what you personally are perceiving.”
What everyone perceived was Uchiha Itachi, unattached bachelor and head of Konoha’s founding clan, in close conversation with the equally unattached heiress to the Yamanaka Clan. He could imagine what they whispered at their tables, the suspicions and the rumors that would no doubt reach the outermost ends of the shinobi population come morning. The rumors that would now involve Ino rather than Hinata.
“Perception,” Itachi said, “is like fire. It may keep you warm through a cold night, but lose control of it and you will burn.”
For the first time since this strange dinner started, Ino looked unsure. There was no flirtatious smile or coy quip, and she merely watched him with interest. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here with me. You Uchiha are masters at playing with fire.”
Itachi felt a rush of chakra behind his eyes, instinct, but he swallowed it before it could manifest the Sharingan. She was no threat, of course, but something in the way she watched him, the way her voice wrapped around those words—playing with fire—stirred something incendiary and raw in him that he couldn’t name. The strange feeling passed quickly, and they both sat back. He hadn’t realized they’d leaned in closer as they lowered their voices in conversation.
Not knowing how or what to say next (Ino did not appear to be forthcoming as she paid attention to her wine), Itachi focused on his food. It was, in fact, as delicious as he suspected from her earlier reaction.
The moment dessert was served, the Koto harpist was relieved in favor of a pianist and accompanying woodwind quartet to encourage guests to get up and make use of the dance floor. Ino watched as Shikamaru was dragged out by an Inuzuka Chuunin with a very excited Dalmatian circling them. Ino bit her lip to hide a smile at his expense. He hated dancing, always had, but as heir apparent to the Nara Clan, he couldn’t leave an event like this without suffering through at least three dances with members of other shinobi clans.
Neither could Ino, for that matter.
Next to her, Itachi ate a spoonful of lemon compote with barely so much as a glimmer of enjoyment. He may as well have been tasting cement for all the joyless duty with which he ate.
“No need to force yourself, Itachi-san,” she said, purposefully injecting an airy lightness to her tone so he wouldn’t think she was seriously concerned.
“It’s quite good, actually,” he said tonelessly. “Refreshing.”
“Wow, such eloquent praise.” Now she was teasing him, and he seemed to sense it. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, smiling. “You just looked quite serious there.”
“I suppose I’m a rather serious person,” he allowed, examining the spoon he’d cleaned.
Ino watched him looking at that spoon, his eyes far away. She recalled accusing him of the same earlier, and she couldn’t help the small pang of regret for her teasing. “Well, even a serious person can enjoy himself once in a while. Dancing, for example.”
“Are you asking me to dance, Ino-san?”
Well, shit.
She supposed she was now. Which, fine. Like everyone else who was important, Itachi surely would be expected to partner a few women before even he could bow out without raising any suspicions. But this favor to Hinata was only supposed to extend for the dinner, not anything after. It was the dinner that would have made Hinata the target of salacious rumors and gossip, not a little dancing she was expected to do with a number of different clansmen anyway.
“That would be improper,” Ino deflected. “At these sorts of formal events, isn’t it usually the man who asks?”
The hell it was, but Ino was pretty sure Itachi was the type to be polite and overly sensitive to things like manners and propriety, given how she’d observed him behaving at these types of functions in the past.
“More or less improper than stealing Hyuuga-san’s guest seat for my attention?”
Ino stared at him, at the subtle curve of his mouth, a ghost of a smile. “Itachi-san, are you flirting with me now?”
The ghost animated a true but sly smile on his handsome face. “No. That would be improper.”
He was teasing her.
Ino had not expected much when she slipped into the seat next to Itachi beyond excruciating boredom and a delicious meal. And while he was not exactly a proactive conversationalist, he was more than competent and willing to engage when she put forth the effort. Dare she say, she was even starting to enjoy herself a tiny bit. He was not at all like Sasuke, who had a habit of being rude in conversation, and not always in the amusing way.
Ino laughed, because it was absurd and delightful, and Ino lived her life in the pursuit of absurd and delightful at every turn.
Itachi said nothing as he watched her, but there was a calmness to him that was made softer somehow, almost comfortable, but not quite.
“Oh no,” Ino said. “I think you’re about to be accosted.”
Hyuuga Hiashi had somehow escaped Elder Koharu’s tax banter and managed to pry Hinata away from the dessert she and Kiba were enjoying together with several other clansmen. They were making a beeline toward Ino and Itachi’s section of the dais.
Itachi adjusted the black tie he wore and squared his shoulders in his suit as if he were preparing himself for battle. “Perhaps you ought to escape while you still can.”
Ino almost laughed at him again. Hinata looked stricken, however, when she caught Ino’s gaze.
Like hell.
“I haven’t finished my dessert yet,” Ino said. Then, because she found no greater joy in life than that of sharing observations about the indefensibly ridiculous habits of others, she added, “Ten ryo says the first thing he wants to talk about is the weather.”
Itachi did not have time for more than a questioning look before Hiashi appeared at their table with Hinata in tow.
“Uchiha-san,” Hiashi greeted with a polite bow.
Itachi rose and bowed back. “Hyuuga-san, you look well.”
Ino got up and did her bow and greeting too; just because she didn’t care for formalities didn’t mean she wasn’t an expert at them. “Hyuuga-sama.”
Hiashi nodded to her. “Ino-san.” Then, back to Itachi: “Pleasant weather we’ve been having. Excellent for the fall harvest, wouldn’t you agree?”
Ino had to literally bite her tongue not to laugh in the face of the esteemed head peacock himself. Next to her, she felt Itachi stiffen. She dared not look at him, knowing she surely would not be able to hold her composure if she did.
Itachi cleared his throat. “…Of course. Very pleasant.”
Gods help me, Ino prayed as she tasted blood on her tongue from biting it so hard.
“Allow me to formally introduce my eldest daughter, Hinata,” Hiashi said. “I had hoped she could make your acquaintance over dinner…”
When he glanced at Ino, she held his gaze with a pleasant smile. It would take more than the likes of Hyuuga Hiashi to intimidate her over something as trifling as one dinner.
Hinata, looking very much like an overdressed deer in her kimono and pearls and wide, nervous eyes, bowed low before Itachi. “I-I’m so pleased to see you this evening, Uchiha-sama.”
Ino said nothing, but she caught Hinata’s gaze and tried her best to convey a look of support.
“Likewise,” Itachi said, ever the picture of perfect manners. “But, we’re not strangers, Hinata-san. Please don’t be so formal with me.” He smiled mildly.
Hinata flushed, no doubt embarrassed she’d overdone it (no doubt her father had impressed upon her the importance of formality). “Oh, um, yes…Itachi-sama.”
“Forgive me,” Itachi said, “but I recently heard that you’ve decided to pass your inheritance along to your sister.”
Hinata blinked rapidly. “I…that is…”
“That’s correct,” Hiashi said, laying a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “Hinata has many wonderful talents to speak of, though they lie outside the realm of politics. She graciously decided to step aside so that Hanabi might be named heir in her stead.”
Ino fantasized about throwing her wine in Hiashi’s face—graciously.
“I see,” Itachi said, betraying nothing. Then, to Hinata directly: “Will you be focusing primarily on your shinobi career then, since you won’t be so busy with all the responsibilities that come with being the heiress?”
Hinata gasped. “I—yes. Yes, of course. I’d like to continue taking missions outside the village for as long as I’m able.” She averted her gaze. “It’s always been my dream to become a strong kunoichi worthy of protecting my country.”
The vein in Hiashi’s forehead looked ready to burst.
“I think that’s very admirable,” Itachi said. “Perhaps you might even consider ANBU. The Byakugan is invaluable for the types of stealth and reconnaissance missions I often take. We are always looking for good talent.”
Hinata looked ready to burst alongside the vein in Hiashi’s forehead.
Ino was pretty sure Itachi had just earned himself a lifetime admirer in one Hyuuga Hinata for that one—and in front of her father!
“Hinata is indeed a talented kunoichi. I daresay she’s surpassed all my expectations,” Hiashi said, under extreme duress. “Uchiha-san, I wonder if you would do my daughter the honor of a dance this evening?”
Itachi didn’t miss a beat. “It would be my pleasure. However,” he glanced at Ino, “I’ve already promised my first dance to Ino-san. Perhaps later this evening?”
Ino had to hand it to Itachi for surprising her. Not many could. She merely smiled and enjoyed Hiashi’s simmering frustration with the way this night had gone totally not according to his plans.
“Of course,” Hiashi said. “We would not dream of inserting ourselves out of turn.”
Ooooh, burn.
Ino could not bring herself to feel guilty for her role in saving Hinata some embarrassment tonight, however.
Hinata shot Ino a significant look as Hiashi led her away—thank you. Ino winked and turned to Itachi, who was holding out a ten ryo bill for her. Unable to resist, Ino snickered and snatched the bill.
“I almost cackled in his face,” Ino said.
“I could tell,” Itachi said, fighting a smile.
“So, you promised me your first dance, huh? I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”
Itachi made a sound of amusement and loosened his tie until it slid out from under his collar. He rolled it up and put it in his pocket, and Ino watched him unbutton the collar of his dress shirt. “We’ve both done enough damage for one night. What’s a little more?”
“By the gods, Itachi-san, are you actually, maybe having a little fun?” Ino asked, coy.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” The warm glimmer of mirth in his black eyes told her differently, and Ino couldn’t help but feel somehow accomplished for it.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm.
Absurd and delightful. Ino almost regretted intervening on Hinata’s behalf. Surely, there were worse ways to spend one’s evening than with Uchiha Itachi.
She took his arm, and he led them to the dance floor. A host of other couples were already gliding about, most of them mixed between clans and conversing amongst themselves. She spotted her own father partnering a Sarutobi clanswoman whose face Ino recognized but couldn’t name.
Itachi pulled her close and held one of her hands out to the side. He placed his other hand on her lower back. His palm was hot against her bare skin, but if he minded the direct contact necessitated by her choice of outfit, he didn’t show it.
Like all clan nobility, Itachi was well-trained in the art of formal dancing. No surprise there. Ino, however, was used to leading the boys she partnered, so it did surprise her that he took charge of the dance before she got the chance, and she was left to follow his perfectly timed steps.
“You’re resisting,” he said.
“What?”
“My lead.”
“Oh, sorry. Habit.”
“Would you prefer to lead?” He spun her out and reeled her back in as the piano flourished.
Ino met his hold again without hesitation, and they were off again. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.”
“Teru-baa-sama will be pleased to hear it.”
“The Uchiha Elder who usually accompanies you, right?”
“Yes. She’s recovering from a cold and could not join me tonight. Your 8 o’clock.”
Ino turned to see a pair of dancers hurtling straight for them, laughing together, but before they could collide with Ino and Itachi, he dropped her hand and tucked his fingers behind her knee, lifting and spinning them both out of the way effortlessly.
His black ponytail tickled her bare shoulder as he set her down again, her hands clutching at his shoulders, and for a beat she just stared up into his eyes. “Damn, you are good.”
Itachi smirked and took her hand in his again. “Thank you.”
Hinata was going to faint if he danced with her like this.
The song ended, and the dancers clapped their appreciation for the musicians. Itachi released Ino and took a respectful step back. He was still smiling mildly.
Ino squared her shoulders and bowed with an over the top flourish. “Uchiha-sama, you dance quite well.”
Itachi chuckled. “As do you, Yamanaka-sama.”
Ino bit her lip. Damn, but she hadn’t expected to like hanging out with Itachi. “Hey, this was fun. For real.”
Itachi’s smile reached his eyes. “I agree. It was…fun.”
“Worth the rumor mill?”
He cocked his head. “I should be asking you that. I’m not the one who had a choice in the matter.”
“Eh.” Ino looked him up and down. He cut a lean, enviable figure in that suit. And his face…well. There wasn’t a soul in Fire Country who didn’t know of Uchiha Itachi’s physical superiority. “I could’ve done a lot worse for myself.”
Itachi held her gaze. “Likewise.”
Ino stared. Did he just—
“Ino! Hey, hey, dance with me, quick! Before she comes back!” Kiba nearly ran into her, Akamaru right behind him and far too big for the dance floor with so many people.
“What—before who—that better have been Akamaru’s tongue and not your sweaty-ass hand!” Kiba swept her away before she even got the chance to say goodnight to Itachi.
When she managed to right herself and look back, he was already gone.
Inoichi summoned Ino after they arrived back at the Yamanaka Compound later that evening. Santa made himself scarce (the coward), and Ino’s mind rang with her father’s familiar timbre while she was changing into her pajamas after a shower: “Come to my study, now.”
Ino groaned. Convenient as it was to be able to communicate telepathically with her family, it could be supremely annoying too. Nonetheless, she dutifully made her way to the study, knowing well from experience that it was unwise to keep her father waiting when he was cross with her.
He sat behind his desk with his hair down and brushed in a loose evening yukata, sipping on a glass of scotch. The warm mahogany of this room and its many books and scrolls had always put Ino at ease. She’d often hide away in here as a girl, usually from her mother and any chores she was supposed to be doing.
“Sit, please,” he commanded.
Ino sat.
“Where were you before the dinner?”
“With Genma.”
Lying to Inoichi was never an option. He’d made a career out of ripping the truth out of Konoha’s enemies one neuron at a time.
Inoichi sighed. “I don’t care to intrude on your personal life, Ino, but when it interferes with clan obligations, you don’t give me much of a choice.”
“I know, Dad.”
“I know you dislike these events. Many do. But they are vital for maintaining peace and stability among the ruling shinobi clans. Some of our interests may naturally align, but others do not. Peace is work.”
Ino sat ramrod straight. “I understand your position.”
“Do you? Because sometimes I feel like you don’t. This is the third time you’ve been late in a month. I could excuse you from our internal affairs now and then, but tonight was an all-clan event. They only happen once a quarter. You know how important it is that we present a unified front.”
Ino bit her lip, thoroughly chastised. Nothing sucked worse than her father’s disappointment in her. “I’m sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s difficult to believe you after the last two times. I wonder sometimes if you’re serious.”
All right, so she had really messed up. Ino took a steadying breath and folded her hands in her lap. When she opened her eyes, she met her father’s dead on. “I am taking this seriously, and I’ll continue to take it seriously when I’m head of the Clan. I swear to you.”
Inoichi’s lined face softened for his only daughter. It wasn’t quite a smile, but she knew him well enough to know when she’d mollified him. “I know you will. You’ll be a fine leader one day, my love. But you’re young. Your actions speak louder than your words, and those actions reflect on the Yamanaka as a whole. You have a responsibility to them, to us. Even when those responsibilities are not to your liking.”
No one could make Ino feel like shit like her father could. She lowered her gaze in contrition and nodded. She knew he was right, and she had nothing left to say for herself. He was right, simple as that.
“Here.” Inoichi poured two fingers of scotch into a fresh tumbler and slid it to her across his desk. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s behind us now.”
Ino took the scotch and drank a long sip of it, wincing at the burn as it went down. The smoky aftertaste made her think of dragons with their fabled fire breath. It made her think of Itachi too.
“So,” Inoichi said, deceptively casual, “tell me what in the Yondaime’s Yellow Flash you were doing dining in a place of honor next to Uchiha Itachi.”
Ino opened her mouth, then closed it. Inoichi waited. She decided, once again, to start with the truth. “Did you know Hiashi disinherited Hinata?”
“What?”
“Yep. Tonight, just before, I think.”
Inoichi nursed his scotch. Ino did the same. “Gods,” he said. “That’s… Gods.”
“Hinata came to me distraught. Her father wants her to marry well without having to compromise the Hyuuga Clan’s line of succession. She asked me for help.”
Inoichi processed it all in stolid silence paying particular attention to his scotch. He would need a refill soon. “So you put yourself in a position to court gossip and rumors about your own prospects?”
Ino stiffened. “I don’t care about that. I care about Hinata. She was disinherited and paraded about like a prized heifer. What did you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to consult me—” Inoichi waved her off. “What am I saying, you would have done as you pleased anyway. Ino, you do know what this means, right?”
“That people will think Itachi is courting me.”
“Do you know what this means for your own prospects?”
Ino shrugged. “That they’ll have some competition if they want to win my favor.”
Inoichi sank into his chair so hard he was like to fuse with it. “Sometimes, daughter mine, I wish you were less like me and more like your mother.”
Ino let her real anger show then. “Why, so I would marry the first guy willing to give up his name and churn out a whole brood of mind-reading babies before my twenty-fifth birthday?”
“That is unkind and also untrue.”
“She gave up her career as a kunoichi to be with you.”
Inoichi sighed again. “No one is asking you to do that.”
“But you are asking me to hurry up and get married so I can start popping out the next heir.”
“Do you really think I would allow you to cavort with Shiranui Genma if I cared more about your title than about you?”
Ino said nothing. He’d made her good and angry now, and she dreaded what she might say in the throes. Instead, she drank her scotch.
Inoichi rubbed his eyes. “I don’t wish to fight with you, Ino. Please believe me when I say my chief concern is your happiness and wellbeing. I thought your mother and I raised you to understand that above all else.”
“You did,” Ino said tightly. “But you also raised me to succeed you. I know there are certain responsibilities that come with that, whether I like them or not.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Inoichi allowed. “So please understand my concerns about Uchiha Itachi. It sends a message, a very particular message. You are intelligent and cunning, Ino, no one can deny that. But you’re also young. I fear that whatever your plan to help your friend may be, you are overlooking key considerations. A man like Itachi has an obligation, more so than other clan heads. He is an Uchiha, and with that comes a very specific mandate.”
Everyone knew about Itachi’s wishes to restore the Uchiha clan. After the Massacre left them with only the very young, the very old, and the very useless in terms of shinobi training, only Itachi and Sasuke were left to carry on the clan’s proud and storied history of military prowess and service to Konoha. It would take years, an entire generation to build them back up to just a fraction of their former glory. And part of that effort, of course, hinged on Itachi, as clan head, to produce children who would inherit his power and title. His last name. Konoha, let alone the Uchiha clan, had not seen a shinobi of his genius since the Fourth Hokage himself.
“As our clan’s heiress, your future partner will be expected to swear fealty to the Yamanaka. Your children will be Yamanaka. Itachi’s position does neither of you any favors. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Inoichi added, softly.
The mandate behind that will was not lost on Ino. The question of her future children’s allegiances and titles had never been one that weighed on her. It didn’t weigh on her now, either, because Itachi was nothing serious. He was just her co-conspirator in a plot to save Hinata a bit of dignity, and that’s all he needed to be.
Ino reached across the table and took her father’s hand. She squeezed him affectionately. “I know, Dad. It isn’t like that. I know what I’m doing. I know… I have a duty to our clan, and I have no intention of avoiding it. Please trust me that I’ll do it with eyes wide open. This thing with Itachi… It’s nothing, just a favor for Hinata. Nothing more.”
Inoichi smiled wryly. He had the look of an old man then, someone who knows exactly what to say but who cannot divine the words that will make it make sense to one so young and stubborn. “I wonder if he knows that.”
“He does. He will. I’ll talk to him. You don’t have to worry.”
“My dear,” Inoichi said, eyes glassy, “don’t you know by now? All I do is worry over you.”
Ino hugged her father, and he sent her off with her scotch and his blessing.
Sasuke was not home when Itachi rolled in late that evening, having finally slipped away after dancing with Hyuuga Hinata and later Inuzuka Hana. Three dances and he deemed it more than enough for posterity’s sake. He made sure to thank Chouza and his wife for their generous hospitality and compliment the meal, which was a highlight of the evening, earning him their genuine gratitude.
The Uchiha Compound was quiet, the children tucked safely in their beds and their hired caretakers busy preparing the morning’s bento lunches. Itachi encountered no one in the main house after he parted ways with a yawning Furi and made his way to the kitchens to brew himself a cup of tea. He almost made it to his room undisturbed, but one old soul had waited up for him despite the hour.
“Tacchan, you look ten years younger.”
Itachi smiled at the affectionate nickname and pulled another cup from the cabinet for her. “I’m not sure if that is a compliment or a warning, Teru-baa-sama.”
Uchiha Teru waddled out of the shadows, her snow white hair braided smartly down her hunched back over a patterned shawl she wore to stave off the chill. It was a warm fall evening, balmy even by Konoha’s standards, but in her age she was sensitive to the cold brought on by darkness.
“You are always so suspicious. You could stand to be a bit more vain, you know.” She accepted the cup of tea he handed to her but not his helping arm as she lowered herself onto a chair at the kitchen table. “I take it things went well tonight?”
“No more or less than expected.” Itachi took a seat in the chair next to hers at the four-person table.
Teru fixed him with a hawkish look over her flat nose. “More, I’d wager. You seem in high spirits. Don’t tell me that stuffed turkey Hyuuga spilled wine on his trousers. Of all the times for me to be sick…”
Itachi chuckled. “No, Hiashi-san was quite composed, and so were his trousers.”
“Bah.”
Itachi sipped his tea. Then, after a pause: “He did try to barter his eldest daughter to me.”
Teru choked on her tea. “The heiress? You can’t be serious.”
“Not anymore. He disinherited her. This very evening, I’d wager.”
“Gods be good,” Teru swore. “The audacity of that man to offer a lame horse to the noble Uchiha Clan. This never would have stood in your father’s time. He must be out of his senses.”
Itachi averted his gaze at the mention of his late father. “Hinata-san seems like a decent girl. She is taking her disinheritance with magnanimity and grace, all things considered.”
“You surely declined. Tacchan, tell me you did not go along with this farce.”
“I did not,” he assured her. “Though, I would have been none the wiser if not for some timely interference.”
“Oh?”
He explained briefly about Ino’s ploy to save face for Hinata, how she had acted out of a sense of loyalty to her friend.
“The Yamanaka girl, yes, I recall her,” Teru said, her face a maze of wrinkles that resembled an unmade bed. But her black eyes were as keen as Itachi’s when she met his gaze. “Clever girl. The Yamanaka are not cut from the same cloth as the Hyuuga. Although, I can’t imagine Inoichi-san is all too happy to have his heiress serve herself up to the rumor mill for the sake of the Hyuuga, of all people.”
“I think Ino-san is more than capable of handling a few gossiping housewives and clan banner men.”
“But you know how it looks. I can already hear those puffed up parrots Nara Shizuka and Sarutobi Biwako crowing to anyone who would lend an ear. The rumors will be all over town by tomorrow morning, see if they’re not. Tacchan, tell me truly. Do you have honest intentions regarding the Yamanaka girl?”
“I do not. We came to a…mutual understanding of sorts. It was all for Hinata-san.”
“I wonder.” Teru scrutinized him. “The Yamanaka… They’re a cunning bunch, and no friends to the Uchiha. As a lesser clan, they would stand to gain more than they can offer with such a match. I can think of no better price to relinquish their own heiress than a union with you. Hiashi may be bold, but he has the right of things in that.”
Itachi set his tea down, not liking where this was going.“It isn’t like that. And Ino-san isn’t like that. She didn’t approach me for herself. She was very clear about that.”
“And you believed her?”
“Yes,” Itachi said truthfully, recalling how Ino had spoken of Hinata during their dinner together. He believed her absolutely in that regard.
Teru harrumphed, but she let it go. After all these years, she had learned to trust Itachi’s judgment. She, and what was left of the Uchiha Clan, were only here because of it, after all. “So what, then. You simply enjoyed your evening with her?”
Itachi thought about that. He remembered her laugh, how she’d teased him, how he’d nearly laughed in Hiashi’s face when he brought up the weather just as she’d said he would. The way she had danced with him. For the first time in all his years attending these clan banquets without a friendly face to be found in all directions, Itachi had felt almost comfortable. Relaxed in her presence.
She wanted nothing from him except for his company, and all in the service of a dear friend.
“I did,” he said at length. “I enjoyed spending time with her. She was…” He struggled for the right words, and Teru watched him quietly. “She made everything feel easy.”
“Nothing about this is easy, Tacchan. I know I do not have to remind you of that.”
Itachi brought his tea close to his face and inhaled the warm, herbal aroma. “No, you do not.”
“I mislike this business with the Hyuuga. Be on your guard. Hiashi is not one to be deterred over one measly dinner. He went to the trouble of disinheriting his own daughter. He will surely try again.”
Itachi did not doubt it. “Perhaps I should offer him Sasuke in my place.”
Teru snorted. “Can you imagine the look on Hiashi’s face at the prospect of a second son match for his crown jewel? He would age right into his grave at the audacity!”
Itachi grinned as Teru cackled.
“Sasuke would sooner shave his head and join the Fire Monks than accept Hyuuga Hiashi as his father-in-law,” Teru wheezed.
“You are probably right. In truth, I thought you would support such a match between Hinata-san and myself. I’m surprised.”
Teru rolled her eyes. “Tacchan, you are intelligent and capable, and I daresay you’ve done a passable job as clan head despite your oftentimes frustrating aversion to the political machinations required of your station. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve come to know you well. When we bound our fates together after my grandson was taken from me, I knew what I was signing myself up for. I have many regrets, but none concerning you.”
Itachi found he could not meet her gaze when she spoke of Shisui. It should have been him here with her, not Itachi. He wished every day that it could have been Shisui instead of him. Shisui would have known what to do, like he always did. He would not be here, years later, still agonizing over the impossible choices he had made as a child backed into a corner by the very people who were supposed to be looking out for him.
“Look at me when I am speaking to you, boy,” Teru said, not unkindly.
Itachi looked her in the eyes.
“None of that, now,” she said, soft but forceful. “I love you as I loved him. You have done more than anyone ever had a right to ask.” She wrapped her hand around his, a spindly confluence of bones and skin hiding an inner strength Itachi could not fathom. “I live for the Uchiha. And I live for you. Your happiness is the very least you deserve after all you’ve endured. I’ll see it before I draw my last breath, mark my words. You won’t be rid of me so easily.”
Itachi watched her with more emotion than he could handle. The heat behind his eyes simmered, but did not overcome him. He wouldn’t do her the dishonor. “I live for the Uchiha too. I won’t disappoint you.”
Sasuke came home soon after a little drunk but in high spirits. Itachi brewed him a cup of tea, and Teru kissed them both goodnight.