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Sa, su, ke. Three symbols craved next to a long line of notches climbing the doorpost to the kitchen, its twin marked in just the same way, but for the name written there: I, ta, chi.
Fugaku lingered behind them, his feet perfectly still, while his eyes wandered out onto the terrace and the garden.
Grown past even the tallest of the notches on the post, his son sat cross-legged on the polished wood. His proud back bent to let him lean in, his broad shoulders almost a ceiling over the baby lying on her favorite blanket before him. As Sasuke smiled down at her, Fugaku stood, and he watched.
“Sa. Ra. Da.” His boy’s voice was darker than ever, and still it dripped with sweetness. With one hand he made circles in the air above her. Slow and delicate. Easy for her to follow. Bright and curious, captivated by the simple game her father drew her into. “Sa. Ra. Da…” Sasuke said her name so carefully, singing the syllables like they were lyrics to a song. Fugaku had heard him sing only once, many years ago, but it had sounded nothing like the gentle tone he had with her. Granted, this time his voice had matured enough to not crack even at the high notes. One finger pointing towards her, still making those delicate circles, Sasuke descended on her. “Sa. Ra…” He paused. Wiggled his finger at her. “Da!”
Sarada swept up at him, grabbing the finger with both of her tiny hands. She let out a happy shout of sheer glee, and a gurgling laugh immediately followed. Fugaku kept his silence, watching Sasuke pretend to not be able pull himself free from the baby’s grasp. The pure adoration on his features enough to send a piercing lance of affection through the watchful grandfather.
Many memories faded with age, but that sunshine high of connection burned as bright as it had twenty years ago in Fugaku’s mind. Two times over he had been the one with a baby in his hands. A proud, happy, and all too often terrified father to sons that had grown and changed, sometimes at an excruciating distance from himself. A distance he hoped those two would never know, but if life had taught him anything, it was that hope alone was never enough.
“Sasuke.”
Finally, his son noticed him there. He looked up and his face changed, from adoring to somewhat puzzled. “Yes?”
“Put her to bed and let her rest. We need to speak, just you and me.”