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They tell you tales of the war; after all, the world as you know it has been drawn by the results of previous wars. What they don’t let you know, because otherwise maybe you’d never get out of bed again if the purpose is to harm others, is that even on the winners’ side, the fight never quite ends and you’re never quite satisfied. The feeling of being overwhelmed, of sitting on the brink of doom doesn’t really go away, and no matter what you ask for, no matter how much you get and do, there will always be a hole right where your old self would fit perfectly.
And time doesn’t really heal. It just numbs your senses, dulls the memories, wraps layers of days around layers of days until everything is hazy in the mind of the scarred ones, until it comes as blessed distraction and craved forgetfulness. Everyone takes it, because otherwise it would prove impossible to keep going, and when there are whole towns to rebuild, a society to be restored, a breakdown of one comes as the collapse of all.
In the years that come after a war, decisions aren’t exactly questioned. This is left, mostly, to those that come after to judge from the vantage point of a not wrecked life. For now, the present people try to build a future for those. The Hokage listens to those that don’t have any superiors, and clans are given free hand to do whatever they think best for their own members. Politics are the only fueling force of any alliance and discussion these days, and no one stops to think that maybe there should be more to the lives of the survivors than continuously pulling through thick negotiations.
But everyone realizes that, quite similar to their duty of protecting their land and loved ones, this one, of building up hope again on the remnants of an old world, is their moving force. Some accept it and some don’t, but all sigh contently when they wake up in the morning and they still have something to do, still move their hands to build something, to help someone. Stopping is out of discussion, because they’d end up looking at their hands and probably never see anything else but blood.
***
Hyuuga Hinata looks in the mirror in her bedroom, not exactly seeing herself. She hates how she has to strain her ears to hear the house going on with its activity, so many dead and silently mourned, so many others tiptoeing around her like she is not the heiress of the clan and the strongest pillar right now, with her father ill. Some part of her understands that they don’t want to upset her, that maybe they even fear her a little bit, after she had to prove herself in both the war and the trials that followed, to name her good enough to hold her position and inheritance.
She leaves the room, servants bowing as she passes the hallways, the slightest of nods still making its way through her composure, to reply to each and every one of them. Her kimono swipes the floor behind her, being one of her bests, newly sewn and cherished by the old women in the clan. Hinata still has to see something in it worthy of more than a glance, but she barely can say more about anything lately. So this day she refused to listen to her mind, stifled the need to rip the cloth between her hands, because what’s the point of all of this, and instead spent painfully long minutes getting herself dressed, ignoring the help, but still managing to look her best.
She doesn’t greet the elders in the Council, and baths in the idea that their eyes followed her since she left her room, and noticed how she showed more respect to mere servants, than to them. She brushes one scarred hand to her father’s shoulder, trying at the same time to both give and receive strength. He smiles, just faintly, and she takes her position at his left side, urging her feet to move in the place that others think she’s worthy of, and not the one she herself wishes she’d occupy. But she nods at her sister as she enters and goes to Hiashi’s right, the place of the true heir, and then they wait, in silence. Several break the unwritten rule of not using the Byakugan in the compound to watch over the steps of the last Uchiha, as he follows a servant, who stops at the door to introduce him.
Sasuke Uchiha doesn’t bow in front of all the important people gathered for him, just sits in front of them in perfectly held position, all the deadly eyes fixed on him not bothering him in the slightest. A brow arches as he takes in the line-up of Hiashi’s daughters, and it’s a movement that passes so fast that many will doubt it ever happened, only Hinata trusting her own eyes enough to not let her mind trick her into believing anything else. He doesn’t comment upon it, no one has dared doing so regarding any of the Hyuugas’ decisions, ever since the war ended, and maybe he’s aware enough of his precarious reputation not to add to it.
Hinata almost smiles at him, like praising him for the inspired decision, but instead steadies her lips in a thin line, her hands perfectly placed in her lap, her eyes glued to the floor. Hanabi has hers grabbing at the material of her kimono, one finger fluttering just so in her father’s direction, and her nervousness passes to the Council members with a fainter heart.
“I am to marry Hyyuga Hinata.”
Sasuke passes a scroll to the head of the clan, though it is another member who takes it. Hinata’s hand twitches and the scroll is placed on the desk between their guest and the head, the hurried member making an even hurried escape. It doesn’t slip Sasuke’s all careful eyes though, and what was wanted to be kept a secret, Hiashi’s illness, is now shared with one who has every reason to use it in his gain.
Hinata reads the foreign writing adorning the paper, the scroll passed to her after her father was done reading, and the knowledge that this happened only because it is something that has a direct impact on her burns bright in her heart. This is the least she’s earned, and she thinks appreciatively at the head of the Uchiha clan, making decisions on his own, with literally no one to be against them. It must be hard being the only member of a dying clan, too, because she’s not blind to the dark shadows under his eyes, or how hurried his hand-writing seems, like he had tens of other scrolls to be written, following this one. But as her own clan has things to make clear, alliances to strengthen and work to add to the town, so does his. The only difference is the number of people doing these jobs, and something akin to admiration blooms on her face, before she turns her head the slightest bit to the left, to hide the expression from the man in front of her.
In theory, it is quite simple. He presents a marriage contract, initiated by the Uchiha clan to the Hyuugas, with the mention that Hinata is the preferred wife, and no one of the lower branch will be even taken into account. Of course, she muses, it would be pure murder on her own clan to think of doing so, because the two clans present at this gathering are the most important ones, still. He is a war hero, a man who showed the world that there is still hope even after the worst of deeds; quite honestly, he is the symbol of their fight having a meaning, their town being reborn after being brought down to ashes.
He offers a quarter of his lands to the Hyuuga clan and a crazily huge sum of money, plus the promise of future, constant alliances. Hinata feels her cheeks warming up the slightest, thinking how he sees her worthy of all this, and then she reprimands herself, because of course she is.
But the Council is made of old people who keep in their minds and hearts old conflicts between members long dead on his side, the blame pushed onto the only survivor that is there to take it. These people never found out how freshly inflicted pain tastes like; they were away from the conflict and they care only for their still remembered, visible scars. Even with the Hokage’s approval of this marriage, as obvious by his signature, they will still fight it with all their might until it will be proven impossible.
“And what makes you think you’re worthy enough to be part our clan?”
Hinata slips. Her head snaps to the elder who dared speak in such a rude matter to the Uchiha, and she frowns. There’s a shiver passing through his body, but he’s unmoving from staring at the young man. Suddenly, Hinata realizes that she and her sister are the only women in the room, and she’s almost stricken with anger. She returns her eyes to Sasuke, who wears a similar frown to hers, and there’s the cruelest of smiles tugging at his lips.
“It simply does not matter. You, instead, should be grateful I deem one of yours worthy of being part of the Uchiha clan.”
This time she can’t help herself; she smiles. It’s a small one, but as Sasuke stares directly at her, she knows he makes out of it exactly what he needs to know. Regardless of the reply he’ll be given in this meeting, their deal is sealed. He starts rising, when her father speaks.
“Sasuke,” the smallest of gasps from Hanabi, as she realizes her father won’t add the honorifics, “add the old shrine in the east of the town too, and you can choose a date.”
Hinata feels like she’s cattle, to be sold, and her body jerks as she wills herself to keep sitting in her place, to not make a scene. It’s better to obey; seeing as things are progressing, she won’t have to live like this for far longer. For a second, she is sure he will not agree to these new terms and this one, small hope she harbored in her heart will be taken from her. She can’t see Sasuke’s expression, from where he stands, with his back to them, and this unnerves her more than she likes to admit. Then he turns, nods, and one of his hand flutters in her direction. She raises so fast that even her father gasps, and she follows him outside, leaving behind the Council and a part of her anger, maybe, too.
***
He could’ve easily matched his strides with hers, but he doesn’t, and she manages to keep up with him, hands around folded cloth, eyes glued to her legs so she doesn’t trip. There’s the faintest of numbness rapidly spreading through her leg, and when she falls because her own body betrays her, she doesn’t yelp, doesn’t even gasp, instead arching her body to the right, preparing herself to at least take the smallest of hits from it.
Instead, there are Sasuke’s arms around her body, holding her in place, and she doesn’t like how her hands clawed around his shirt, because, in some ways, it shows that she somehow expected him not to be there for her. She can see it in his eyes that he might want to reprimand her for not saying anything about her numb leg, so she lets go in haste, straightening herself to the same dignified appearance as earlier. He watches her activating her Byakugan for a second, before she grabs his hand and hurries them both in the nearest room.
She knows they can be as easily found by her clan members, but for now she doesn’t really care. She needs to do this, to at least show him he didn’t come here all for nothing.
“Thank you, Sasuke.”
This time there’s nothing rude in how she doesn’t use any honorifics, because it’s just her stabilizing her position in this weird relationship they’re forming, demanding equality, treating him the same way he treats her. Her fingers take to curling around his, but with his eyes fixed on her, he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s faintly tracing the scars on her palm, the fine skin on her knuckles.
He thinks back to how he even came to do this, to the strangest request he’s ever received. It came several days after the official notice that, upon Hiashi’s retirement, the head of the Hyuuga clan will be Hanabi. Hinata came to his own compound, when no one even dared approaching it, tales of curses passing between villagers instead. Yet, she was there, waiting for him to come and greet her, as custom asks. Drinking some tea she herself prepared in his own house, she laid out the benefits of a marriage between their clans, and more particularly between themselves. She came equally prepared for a refusal, as for assent, and her voice didn’t change all the time she talked. In the end, he couldn’t help but simply ask:
“Why?”
She looked surprised by the question, like she never thought he will show this interest. It was the first sign of nervousness, how she tugged at her bangs before replying.
“I don’t know much about you, Uchiha-san.” Back then, she still used his name properly, unsure on how her visit would be taken after her leave. “But I am sure you will rightly appreciate both me and my proposal.”
She was looking for justice and for someone who will continue to give it to her. She was honest, not overly emotional and she didn’t amuse herself with thoughts of a love marriage. Quite honestly, this was probably the only choice she got to make, before the Council arranged to give her off to some other clans, to some worse houses, where she wouldn’t be valued or appreciated to the right degree. It was a gamble, because, as she even said it, she barely knew anything about him. Yet, it seemed it was enough for her to give herself to him and his cause, and what was the clan of Uchiha ever, but just?
His decision was taken in the moment when she left, and she also knew it. He had no doubts that all she worked so far to gain would be put into the success of this arrangement.
The proof of that is right now in front of him, has been quite obvious during the whole meeting. The Hyuugas aren’t quite as subtle as they lie to the world they are, or maybe it’s just that strongly how her stilled power clashes to the wishes of the elders.
“They’ll crumble without you.”
He says it like he actually wants it to happen, and Hinata can feel him squeezing her hand a little too hard. She indulges into the image of this for a while, as he silently sits in front of her, mere centimeters away even as the room leaves him so much space to go away to if he wishes. Then she opens her eyes, meeting his, and one of her hand mimics into the air the swatting of a fly.
“Then let them.”
This time, Sasuke is the one guiding them through the compound, walking at a slower pace, Hinata’s hand still in his hold. When he leans over to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, he whispers only for her to hear:
“Two more months.”
***
He doesn’t know why he agreed, doesn’t fully understand what exactly pulls him into fulfilling the request of the Hyuuga girl. He stops questioning after too many afternoons lost staring at walls and jumping from one idea to the other, and instead prefers musing over the gossips of the villagers. Even if afraid, kids start gathering at his gate, daring each other to see the land of the last Uchiha, to catch a glimpse of the man that’s going to own the one princess who stole the heart of whole generations. Men sometimes stop him on his way to and from missions, or from visits to Naruto, but they just dumbly say his name, like they still can’t believe he’s back, can’t believe he’s getting so ingrained in their lives, through something as strong as a marriage. Some women sigh after him, like he’s a dream they all once had, other dare to tell him of his future wife’s obvious crush on the now Hokage, though it’s something neither her or the blond ever mentioned in his presence, and something that he doesn’t care to find the truth of. He actually knows that something as meaningless as a crush doubtly interests Hinata anymore, and he’s weirdly proud he knows a part of her that the world will never see, nor understand. Maybe, up to a point, that’s why she chose him.
Those that he once knew congratulate him, though it doesn’t sound genuine not even when it comes from Kakashi-sensei, and Sasuke is weirdly disappointed. It shouldn’t surprise him that no one wants his happiness, nor that they all deem him and Hinata unfitting for each other. The longer he hears of how both villagers and fellow shinobis feel about her, the surer he is of the opposite.
They all talk of how she started, the shy child, maybe too weak for her position, maybe not enough for what the world wants of her. They almost never recall the lady she is now: survivor of a war, one of the best fighters of her clan, one of the strongest women that were close to a ruling position. They’re scared of this side of her, he realizes, after he corners several Hyuuga servants and questions them; and fear makes them all want to throw her away.
He grins when the next afternoon rolls in, himself sitting on his terrace, looking as the sun is bleeding at the horizon, and he tastes the power his future wife holds. For there’s power in responding with kindness to doubters, in accepting with grace harsh words, in planning with cunning what some would call betrayal, and she sees as freedom.
And she dared thanking him, when all the work was hers, Sasuke just the instrument to finalize her plan. As the evening rolls and darkness falls, he hears the knocks at the gates, though this time he doesn’t have to leave his place, as Hinata makes her way uninvited, accepted anyway. The knock is just a pattern, a cover to how things actually are: her visits a routine, expected. She shuffles in the kitchen, putting some water to boil, readying two cups for when their tea is done. Her gift, when she first came here, was her collection of teas, gathered from all her missions. Ever since this turned into a daily occurrence, it became a goal to taste them all, though he still didn’t say it out loud, grateful he doesn’t have to.
Hinata comes and sits next to him, some superficial space left between them, because it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s any, when the wind makes her hair touch his arm so lightly, when an almost unnoticed move of his hand will result in resting it on her thigh. Her greeting is always a smile he catches with just the corner of his eyes, just a grunt her reply. They sit in an almost comforting silence until the water boils, and Hinata leaves, moving around his house. It feels good to have someone else’s footsteps echo in a house as big as this, in a world as empty as his.
“I heard you interrogated my poor maids.”
Her voice carries from the kitchen to where he stands with no problem, and he can hear the faintest trace of amusement in there. She doesn’t expect a reply, and this time, she sets the tray with their cups between them.
“You know you can always ask me, if there’s anything you’d like to know.”
Again, she says it very matter of fact, like she doesn’t spend her days preparing for a wedding. But she is the one who holds the absolute truth. There are many who can come up with approximate ideas of who Hinata Hyuuga is, but she is the only one who carries her pains and her dreams, and she is the only one who can agree with whom and if she wants to share them.
He closes his eyes, sighing.
“Tell me.”
***
The wedding is a small, private thing, partly because the village is still working on itself, partly because in a few days the Hyuuga clan will also celebrate their new leader. The elders are pointedly looking at the couple, still not sure what to make of this alliance, but all the others Hyuugas present share their heartfelt wishes, loyal to their heiress until they will truly, finally lose her. The groom’s side of guests is painfully low in numbers, the Hokage being the most notable one, his teacher and several others of their generations, some old acquaintances from his travels. Hinata welcomes them all like they’re part of her family already, not showing any sign of shyness or awkwardness in her dialogues.
Sasuke nurses a drink, following his wife as she passes between their guests at the reception, still dressed in her white kimono which she confessed to dread wearing. It’s not obvious in how she wears herself, and it pains him that even her own wedding is something that she deems as a task, as simply something she has to do.
Her father does the same thing as him, and they reach her at the same time. If Hiashi would prefer to talk with Hinata alone, he doesn’t say it, and at her name, she leans just slightly closer to her husband, though she doesn’t need either his protection or strength.
“Congratulations, Hinata.” Hiashi’s voice is weary, like he doesn’t know how to speak to his daughter, now that she belongs to a new clan, now that she is the head to a new clan. Her eyes drop to the floor, more because of the respect she bears to the one that raised her, than because she’s in the front of a clan leader that she knows he isn’t anymore.
“Thank you, father.”
There’s the gentlest of touch at her wrist, and she smiles, just enough for Sasuke to see. Hiashi’s eyes turn to the Uchiha, seemingly disturbed by the exchange, remembering he never displayed any particular interest in his daughter. Then he shakes his head, remembering what he actually wants to say.
“I’m sorry for any harm I’ve caused.”
This time, Sasuke’s hand moves at her shoulder, because Hinata is already feeling a little bit faint. She isn’t the one to reply this, but she does well in relying on her husband.
“It’s too late for it now.”
His voice holds all the hatred he feels for that clan, all the hate Hinata gathered from all the failed attempts to get this: a slight praise, a simple apology when she’s been wronged. Sasuke tugs at her hand, urging her to follow him because now she’s near to tears and it’d be too bad to have all their guests see the bride crying. They end up in a non-descript, small room, his hands on her cheek, wiping away tears.
“A- Am I horrible for marrying you?”
To her utter shock and annoyance, Sasuke laughs. This, at least, stops her from crying, because honestly, this man and all the ways in which she still doesn’t know to understand him.
“Are you figuring out this just now?”
She leans closer, pressing their foreheads together. She breathes a weak thanks, steadying herself with his presence close to her, and after she calms down, she feels stupid for even feeling like that. But Sasuke is there, and his hand resting around hers is enough to let her know that he, at least, understands her, that from him she shouldn’t think of hiding, if what she wants to achieve is more than manipulative talk.
They don’t return to the reception, instead making their way to, now, their home. This part of town is silent, after another day of work, and Hinata is even more grateful for the big garden, for this entire place she can now call hers. She knows her husband doesn’t share the same views as her and she can’t even begin imagine how living within the reminder of murder must feel like. But, at least for tonight, these things don’t seem to plague Sasuke’s mind. For tonight, they’re newlyweds, and she’s amused to think that this is actually the first time in his bedroom, now adjusted to fit two people.
It’s awkward, to suddenly add the plural to what he called his alone until then, and simply bringing changes to the house to accommodate a new presence won’t change the tentative ways in which they still try to learn and find out about each other. He was the one who even proposed two separate bedrooms, but, after asking if he insists on it and receiving a negative answer, Hinata refused. She gave him something in exchange of a freedom he already allowed her by simply asking her opinion on the matter, and she was, still is, ready to meet her end of the deal fully.
Maybe this is why he’s the one flustered, while she has no problems in untying her obi and letting the clothing fall off her shoulders. He’s not sure if she realizes that she’s doing the whole thing very seductively, but this focus of hers makes him frown. When she gets close, reaching for their first kiss after the one who made official their marriage, he stops her.
“I don’t want any of you that you give me only as a duty.”
She straightens, pulling her hair in a bun, lips slightly parted in concentration, her eyes anywhere but from the now stripping Sasuke. He likes that, at least, she takes her time in sorting out her feelings, in seriously considering his requests, no matter how against their initial arrangement they are. Because so much has changed since then, maybe she can accept more things, more easily.
When he passes by her to leave the room, probably to sleep in some other place, she reaches for his arm, stopping him. Sasuke looks at her and sees a blushing young girl for once, all she is outside their marriage left at the door of this bedroom. It’s quite disarming, and she doesn’t even have to move to have him kiss her, hands at her waist slowly guiding her towards the bed.
It’s not love-making, because they’re not quite in love. But it’s not just sex either. Well, whatever it is, they’ll take it.
***
Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months and Hinata keeps on living, with new titles and new responsibilities. She makes her grocery shopping from the same places and she turns a deaf ear to those who badly talk about her, the Uchiha whore, because she knows they won’t be there next time she’ll be out, her husband making sure of it. She takes care of those that have something to say about Sasuke on her own. If someone notices their doings, no one dares commenting upon it, and there’s that.
Old ladies, though, still stop her to constantly ask her when she will finally revive the Uchiha clan and what are her expectations as a wife in that family. She tends to politely smile, ignoring most of their talk, simply telling them when they’re not satisfied with just that:
“I rule that clan alongside him.”
She isn’t sure they get what she means – that her obligations don’t lay in constantly bedding Sasuke until she finally gets pregnant, and neither in satisfying his domestic needs. That behind every decision he makes, there’s always a question posed to her, that as long as she now wears the Uchiha crest on her back, every business concerning him, concerns her too.
There are days when he finishes his job before she even wakes up, and she wonders if he even slept at all. And there are also days when he refuses to leave his desk to even eat something, and that’s when she drags a chair next to his and starts working on their clan’s matter. He sometimes stops his own readings and letters writing to ask her input on this or that, or to have her refresh some of the clans’ history for him. Here, there’s nothing bittersweet or wrong about thanking each other, and it doesn’t take long for Sasuke to realize just what a valuable asset she is regarding clan’s business. After all, she’s been raised to rule, and the least he can do is allow her to do just that. Sometimes she pushes away his work, asking kindly if she may take over, and he spends hours watching her work, so happily caught up in doing what she’s clearly good at. When he’s out of the town on diplomatic missions for the Hokage, she is the one welcoming anyone who wants something to do with the Uchiha clan, and if there’s anyone shocked at this, their words die on their lips the next time her husband is present as well, throwing daggers at anyone who’d dare complain of her presence.
There are mornings when he finds her staring at nothing at all, and those are the silent hours to pass until they can go to sleep. They both wear dark, miserable things that sometimes crawl, and Sasuke understands it better than anything else. He guides her to the bedroom, tucks her in her favorite blanket, and returns after half an hour with hot chocolate and some cinnamon buns. She just gently strokes his jaw in silent thanks, and as long as she’s back to him, he doesn’t mind doing this however many times it takes. And yet, Hinata finds that there are more and more days when she finds something grabbing her interest, more and more days when she hopefully thinks of the future. That’s when she smiles, a lot, and Sasuke understands why a whole village loves so very dearly her self before everything bad happened.
There are nights when he wakes up in cold sweat, the house calling the names of all those it lost, his heart erratically beating, reminder of the blood he has in his veins. Hinata stirs at his side, a light sleeper, always waking up to find him in his most vulnerable state, so hollowed, feeling so dead. She takes the glass of water on her side of bed, giving it to him, and he accepts it gratefully. He doesn’t really notice the tears or how his hands shake until she puts aside the glass and wraps herself around him, hugging him. His head throbs and he’s not sure he wants another human being around him, but he’s too weak to push her away. She cries with him without actually wanting to, because they both mourn people who meant the world to them, and this grief will probably never go away. She still dares to hope, she still wants to share that hope with him. Her voice, carrying only everything good, is probably more hypnotic than his skill, and they stay like that, limbs tangled and sleepy whispers, until the morning.
This is a life she chose and a life he let her chose. Hinata muses over the fact that there’s a world not far from here where she didn’t have enough courage to speak to him, to propose to him, and if she knew how to hold on to hate, maybe that would be the feeling preserved for that self. In the quiet moments before he falls asleep, Sasuke actually admits to himself that this is everything he wanted. And maybe more.