Chapter Text
The thing is one doesn’t choose their family.
It’s a universal truth, like water is wet, the sky is blue, or death eventually comes for everyone.
Right now, Sasuke felt like he was about to join the dark forces in their hellish crusade a little sooner than expected.
He and his friends had been enjoying their day at Itachi’s place, carefree and oblivious, like a herd of gazelles blissfully unaware of the hunter lurking in the grass. They were on summer break, savoring the last sweet moments of freedom before the looming weight of adulthood – college – bore down on them.
Then, the letter had arrived.
His older brother Itachi was standing in the doorframe leading to his bedroom as Sasuke clutched the dreaded eggshell-colored envelope in his hands. For once, the stoic expression he usually sported had disappeared. The slight twitching at the corner of his lips, the tiny furrow of his brow, the minuscule flare of his nostrils – they all pointed to something akin to a natural disaster. Like a volcanic eruption, an earthquake, or the most unlikely of all, a party invitation from Uchiha Madara.
Silence stretched between them for a long while. Neither he nor Itachi spoke, until Naruto –seated across from Sasuke on the bed – glanced between the two in confusion and finally asked, “Why is this such a big deal?”
“Big deal? Idiot, have you not been listening to anything I’ve said these past years?”
The world knew Uchiha Madara as one of the finest detectives Japan had ever seen. With a gifted mind, he had solved numerous cold cases, captured murderers, and arrested notorious drug lords. He was on the revenge list of at least fifteen inmates in Tokyo Prison and had been the target of attempted kidnappings not once, but thrice. Legend said that the Superintendent General of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department had personally recruited him after witnessing his skills in a martial arts tournament.
The employees of the 44th precinct, however, knew better. Made up exclusively of members of the Uchiha Clan, they had an intimate knowledge of Uchiha Madara and his many, many traits.
First of all, Madara was a man with an intense drive. He only ever interrupted his work when he needed stress relief. Stress relief, for Madara, usually meant heading to the DA’s office and yelling at whoever was unlucky enough to be there. He didn’t seem to eat (like all demons from hell), he had a private bathroom (and wasn’t that just the tip of the iceberg), and for all they knew, he slept hanging upside down like a bat. When he deigned to grace anyone with his presence, he constantly seemed on the verge of losing his infamous temper. Nothing ever met his standards. When his detectives updated him on their progress, he was quick to highlight every flaw, tearing into them without hesitation, and leaving them with even more tasks to complete. His viciousness was already unbearable, but combined with his ruthlessness and sense of overachievement, it created an atmosphere of torment. It was constant misery.
“Oh, come on, he can’t be that bad,” Naruto and Sakura had laughed in Sasuke’s face a few years back, when he’d described his uncle to them (more like his great-uncle. He was Sasuke’s grandfather’s cousin, but Sasuke wanted to meet the person who would dare call Madara ‘gramps’ to his face. And Sasuke had long since gotten used to the awkward moments that occasionally occurred when both he and his father called Madara ‘Uncle’ in public). However, they had always held a certain fascination when it came to Sasuke’s unusual family, especially after he had mentioned his uncle’s fancy mansion that included hidden trapdoors, secret passageways and a large hall with weapons collected from different time periods, that was strictly off-limits to any and all clan members.
Sasuke had made it through a year of their excessive begging and pleading, until he had finally taken them for a visit to the precinct so that they could meet the man. “Ask him yourself if you can visit,” he had snapped at them. Both Sakura and Naruto had only smirked at him in confidence, well aware that people always instantly liked them, and entered Madara’s office, much to the disbelief of the collective 44th precinct.
A minute later, they had returned trembling, clinging to each other with deathly pale faces. They had looked horrified.
“So, do you realize now how close you came to a dinner with Satan?” Sasuke had asked them casually. Naruto had only looked at him wide-eyed and whispered, “It was like staring into the abyss”. Sasuke might have felt pity for them, if they hadn’t annoyed him for twelve months straight about this.
Even so, it must be recognized that his family ultimately stayed together. Every Uchiha had, at some point, attempted to charm Madara, whether by inviting him out for drinks after work (which he always declined point-blank), or by asking if he wanted to join their group training exercises (which Madara simply dismissed as ‘incompetent morons flailing around‘’).
Eventually, they had all admitted defeat.
Sasuke’s uncle was just a misanthropic jerk who probably sacrificed kittens to Cthulhu on weekends. As a child, Sasuke had thought it was a real shame that his immediate family wasn’t closer to Madara, since he had found the stuff his uncle did kind of cool. But the older he had gotten, the quicker it had died down.
However, none of that explained the contents of the letter. That their family patriarch demanded the presence of all Uchiha Clan members at a celebration at his estate at the end of summer, where he would introduce his fiancé to his family.
His fiancé.
Naruto smiled brightly. “That sounds amazing, Sasuke. You always complain that your uncle is so withdrawn. See, perhaps he is just very private.”
Sasuke frowned. “That guy got banned from Australia, Naruto. Australia. A place with zero rules and wildlife that is the byproduct of Mother Nature going on a psychedelic bender! He should have felt right at home there.”
With a careful motion, Itachi took the letter and put it back in its envelope. “Just make sure to save the date, Sasuke. And now, chop chop. Shisui is expecting us, and we have to pick up Izumi on the way.”
Sasuke sighed and arduously lifted his legs from where they had been resting on Itachi’s pillow, kicking Sakura in the head by accident, who was sitting on the floor leaning against Naruto’s dangling legs. “Sasuke, do you want to get punched?”, she hissed like an angry cat.
“If that is what will get me out of this event, be my guest,” he groaned, briefly forgetting his group designation as the local cryptic.
They put on their shoes, said their good-byes and eventually set off in different directions. Sasuke dropped in the passenger seat of Itachi’s second-hand kei car, while Naruto accompanied Sakura to the subway station. Sasuke had already closed the door when Naruto told her, “This is funny, my dad told me that one of our in-laws is actually getting married as well…”
✦
The car ride was mostly silent, with Sasuke still in a haze and staring at the meticulously clean dashboard, while seriously contemplating his place in the universe. Itachi was driving with intense focus and not one inch out of line. They picked up Izumi half-way, who came stumbling out the door, pale and almost colliding with a lamppost. Twenty minutes later, they were all sitting around Shisui’s living room table, a large platter with freshly made curry rice steaming in front of them, tempting Sasuke to eat something other than instant ramen or Itachi’s very questionable cooking results. Even so, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to touch the food yet. Neither had Izumi, whose face was at least slowly gaining color again. Shisui’s gaze was fixed on the table, lost in silent reflection, and Itachi had left the room to make a phone call.
Finally, Shisui seemed to remember his duty as the eldest Uchiha present and stood up rigidly, digging up big portions and dropping them on their plates. With a firm voice, that sounded remotely like his father Kagami’s, he ordered them to eat.
After a few minutes, Izumi finally seemed to be able to say out loud what they were all thinking,
“So…who do you think it is?”
Sasuke, who had desperately waited for someone to start the conversation (but unwilling to do it himself because he had a reputation, thank you very much, as an uncaring rebel, carefully built up over the years), waved the question away. “The more important question is why! Why would someone marry that bitter, curmudgeonly evil fossil.”
“Sasuke,” Shisui chided. “He is still head of the family and my superior at the precinct.”
Sasuke only snorted. “Shouldn’t he be retired by now, drooling away in some home?”
Shisui lifted one unimpressed eyebrow. “Given the fact that he can still knock out at least half of our team, including your father, in the dojo, I’ll pay you to suggest that to him.”
Izumi ignored them both. “I’ve come up with some ideas. Given what we know about Madara’s character and his aversion to the entire spectrum of human emotion, there are only so many options.”
Sasuke nodded gravely. “That his fiancé is equally as big of a bitter, curmudgeonly evil fossil.”
Izumi snapped her fingers at Sasuke, “Very good, young one. Though the prospect of a second Madara is alarming – ” A collective shudder ran through the room. “We must consider a second option, boys. Madara’s fiancé could simply not know what he truly is. Imagine, an oblivious sweet young person, lured in by the dangers in the to them unknown world…” “You forgot dumb as bread, if they can’t manage to see what Madara really is,” Sasuke finished Izumi’s thoughts. Izumi mumbled some response and got up to write her and Sasuke’s ideas on the nearby chalkboard that hung above the couch for their weekly Pictionary nights. A crack split the board neatly in half – a remnant of last month’s activity, when Shisui had punched it after Sasuke had guessed correctly from Itachi’s drawing of a car that the solution word was ‘alpaca’.
Shisui’s fingers were folded in front of his chin, his expression the same as when he was looking at a particularly difficult case at the precinct. “Or…or perhaps his fiancé likes it.”
Izumi tilted her head in confusion. Like a little bird. “What do you mean?”
“Perhaps they get off on Madara’s behavior.”
“You mean, someone who enjoys his homicidal urges?”
Shisui shrugged helplessly and Izumi shuddered again, turning back to the board and listing his input. As she wrote down the last word, Itachi rejoined them. Sasuke was by now able to interpret the approximately two hundred different stares his brother had mastered and was surprised to see him confused.
“Itachi, finally. Your food is getting cold,” Shishui exclaimed, before hesitating. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my boss,” Itachi mumbled. “Tobiram-“ He stopped abruptly. The other three Uchiha in the room had inhaled sharply, Shisui and Izumi shooting him a warning glance that was entirely unnecessary. Sasuke had known of Senju Tobirama for a long time. Every Uchiha had. Before they learned how to walk, before they learned how to talk, they would hear the name Senju.
Sasuke could remember the first time he had heard the cursed name. His father had taken him to the 44th, showing him the place where his family worked for the betterment of society, and Sasuke had excitedly clung to his father’s hand. Auntie Naori had come over, whispering something in a warning tone and Sasuke could distinctly remember hoping to see something cool, like a dismembered hand. But the door had slammed open, leaving cracks in the opposite wall, to reveal Madara instead, who had cursed and used words Sasuke had never heard before. However, before Fugaku could slap his hands over Sasuke’s ears, he had caught very clearly the name Senju Tobirama.
That night, Sasuke had crawled to Itachi under the bed covers, asking with wide eyes who exactly the Senju was. His brother had put an arm around him and told with a serious expression that the Senju and Uchiha had been enemies since the days of yore. As bitter rivals, they fought each other with every means necessary. Nobody knew for how long exactly, but legends said that their feud went back hundreds of years. There was a Senju named Tobirama in the 40-floor building the Uchiha were working in. In the worst division, of course; the DA department.
Senju Tobirama was a lawyer.
After that, every time Sasuke had visited the bureau and spotted the white-haired bastard in his expensive, immaculately pressed suit and neatly slicked-back hair, he had noticed the conceited, snobbish way the Senju looked down on all of them. From his family members Sasuke heard how Tobirama liked to make things extra difficult for them by always delaying arrests claiming insufficient evidence, manipulating support at public hearings or interrupting them when they were about to make a bust. Senju Tobirama was, simply put, the source of everything that ever went wrong in the Uchiha precinct.
His family’s opinion of the man had only gotten worse after Sasuke’s own brother had decided to study law like the Senju, instead of following in the footsteps of his ancestors and become part of the police force like the rest of the clan. Itachi even went ahead to work for the bastard. A decision that had triggered the to date fiercest argument between his brother and father and had elicited the consequent move-out of his brother. They still weren’t on speaking terms and his father turned to stone every time someone mentioned Itachi to him. Sasuke had no idea what the two did when they met each other at work.
“Anyways,” Itachi coughed, “My boss is currently missing. This is the fourth day in a row that he hasn’t appeared in the office. And no-one knows where he is.”
Sasuke tried to find it in himself to care that Senju Tobirama was gone – if only for his brother’ sake – but gave up on it quickly. Were he alone, he might have celebrated the fact that the stupidest, most idiotic Senju of all was missing. He had been living in a Tobirama-free world for four days and not even been able to appreciate it.
There was a similar carefully controlled expression on Izumi’s face and Shisui had at least the decency make an effort and seem worried. “Ah, hm, I am sure he is alright. This has happened before, hasn’t it?”
They all knew that it hadn’t. Senju Tobirama was an even greater stickler for rules than Itachi. Perhaps that was the reason why Itachi had decided to go against forty years of family tradition and risk the wrath of his father.
“Anyways, Itachi, have you looked at our guesses about Madara’s fiancé,” Izumi rambled on. “What do you think?”
Itachi stepped next to her, his plate of curry firmly in his left hand and a spoon in his right. He looked at the board with a thoughtful expression before he said, “You forgot one possibility.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it is simple. Madara is by all standards a man that would repel the usual suitor,” he said in a matter-of-fact-tone. “Nevertheless, there is one thing that is generally considered attractive by societal standards. Very attractive, in fact.”
Sasuke’s eyebrows flew high and disappeared under his bangs. His first instinct was to yell at his brother that the words attractive and Madara should never again be spoken in the same sentence. A baby deer had probably just keeled over dead somewhere. Gods.
Shisui looked similarly off-put. Only Izumi had gone quiet. She was slumped over, eyes wide and hands pressed together as if in prayer. “His fiancé is trying to steal our inheritance,” she whispered after a long moment.
It went quiet in the living room, only the low whirring of the AC interrupting their thoughts. Sasuke cursed internally, mentally congratulating his brother for finding what was indeed the most likely option.
Here’s the thing. Madara was a bastard. But he was a filthy rich bastard.
Their great-great grandfather Indra had acquired a vast amount of wealth in his time. No-one knew exactly how and given Indra’s character, no-one really wanted to ask. Indra had lived a long, long life. He never had any children, so he had decreed that he would distribute his fortune equally amongst his many relatives. Indra had never given any indication of deviating from his plan until he had named Madara as the sole heir to his fortune while drawing his last breath, ensuring an entire generation of family conflict, distrust and the almost-destruction of their clan. For kicks.
“Well, it would be Madara’s prerogative to give it away to someone other than the family”, Itachi mused, caring little for the fortune Madara was hoarding like a dragon.
"Speak for yourself," Izumi said with a snort. "If I have to suffer his tyranny every day until he finally decides to bite the dust, I had better be driving a Porsche by the time I’m retiring."
“It would probably tear apart our family for good this time,” Shisui pondered, looking decidedly worried. “Do you really think he is the type to get a trophy spouse?”
“What is the alternative? That someone actually likes him,” Sasuke countered. None of them could respond to that.
“You know, there is one person that most certainly knows what our uncle is up to,” Itachi suggested thoughtfully.
Shisui slapped his forehead, “Of course, why haven’t I thought of that. He’ll know for sure.”
Sasuke groaned quietly and slipped a little further into his seat. He knew who they were talking about, and he knew who they would have to call. Shisui already had his phone out, scrolling eagerly through his contact list. A smug smile spread on his lips, and he presented Sasuke with the phone. “Go on, Hot Topic.”
“Oh, come on, I don’t want to talk to him.”
Itachi gave him a look that reminded Sasuke disturbingly of their mother. “Sasuke, you have been pestering me with this question since we learned that Madara is engaged. Now, help contribute to the search.”
Sasuke glared at him, certain of the fact that his brother was just as curious as he was but unwilling to admit it, lest he proved that he was actually a human being once in a while. The Uchiha had always been a stoic bunch, but his brother had ascended to entirely new heights.
“Fine,” he hissed, pressing the calling button. It rang five times before a melodic ‘hello’ greeted Sasuke.
Sasuke coughed slightly, “Uncle Izuna? It’s me, Sasuke”. Immediately, he held the device away from his ear, just in time for the squeal of delight to not shatter his eardrums.
“Mini-me, what a surprise. Why is my emo version calling me today of all days?”
Sasuke glared at his brother once again. That was why Sasuke always drew the shortest straw when it came to contacting Uchiha Izuna, which usually only happened when they needed something from Madara by proxy. Izuna was in many ways like his older brother Madara; arrogant, lordly and convinced to be of bluer blood than the rest of them – the only difference being that he conveyed it with a charming smile, good looks and undeniable charisma. And Sasuke was the spitting image of Uchiha Izuna in his teenager years. The resemblance was uncanny and Izuna greatly enjoyed pointing it out at any given moment. He was like a cockatiel; enamored with his own reflection. Which was why he was always willing to listen to Sasuke’s pleas.
It had been especially bad when Sasuke’s family still attended what Uncle Izuna referred to as so-called 'family reunions.' Sasuke would rather drive nails into his eyes than endure one of those insane functions ever again. They usually involved Madara’s mansion, a ton of alcohol, a totally exaggerated number of lanterns with their family crest everywhere, and gasoline. That wouldn't have been so bad, and Sasuke would have greatly appreciated any chance to drink free alcohol in his early teenage years. But eventually, Izuna himself would always show up, bringing with him a 'healthy dose of arson.' What Izuna usually considered to be party entertainment was troubling and, truthfully, probably against the law. Which was a real problem, given their occupation. Reunion days always seemed to coincide with a sudden outbreak of illness among Sasuke’s immediate family, after Fugaku had overheard a call during which their insurance company told Madara that they wouldn’t cover the monthly replacement of fire extinguishers anymore. Anything was better than attending a party thrown by a fifty-something-year old man whose entire code of ethics seemed to be guided by TikTok trends.
Shisui and Izumi both gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.
Sasuke rolled his eyes and drew the phone back, turning it on speaker, “Not much, just wanted to know how my uncle is doing.”
“Sasuke, you are too sweet,” Izuna’s voice cooed in his ear, falsely saccharine, “I am doing so well, thank you. I am currently at a cute little beach in Italy, enjoying the many treats this country has to offer.” An audible slurp grated on his ears of what Sasuke assumed was from a ridiculously over-priced cocktail.
“Yes, well. Are you attending Madara’s party? He’s sent us invitations.”
“Of course I am, silly,” Izuna purred in a low voice, and an image of a large cat stretching lazily in the sun as it eyed a nearby bird suddenly appeared before Sasuke’s inner eye. He had the sense that his uncle knew exactly why he had called. “I assume you are coming too. Is there something you or our other relations need, nephew?”
He enjoyed his little mind-games, Izuna.
Sasuke unconsciously sat up a little straighter, quickly glancing at Izumi and Shisui who motioned for him to go on.
“I was just wondering – what would be a suitable gift –”
Suddenly, a loud groan interrupted the call. It was so visceral and soul-wrenching that Sasuke could instantly relate to it. A bit confused, he looked at the phone, as if it would magically offer up the sound’s origins.
‘What on earth’, Shisui mouthed silently in confusion.
They could hear Izuna muttering something, probably to someone close-by, and the clinking of ice cubes in a glass. A few moments later, Izuna was back.
“Sorry about that, little clone.”
“Are you with someone right now?”
“Yes. In fact, and you simply must forgive me for that, I must tend to my companion immediately. He is not doing too well, you see,” Izuna said cheerfully.
“But-“
“Buh bye. Buy some moisturizer or you’ll get the same face canyons you father has.”
The phone died.
Izumi cursed in a manner that would have her mother wash out her mouth with soap. Sasuke slammed the phone on the table, crossing his arms in frustration. Shisui looked at it with obvious disappointment.
“Do you think Uncle Izuna really needed to leave or that he simply didn’t want to talk to you?”
“I don’t know, but Izuna usually at least listens to what Sasuke has to say,” Itachi said thoughtfully.
Izumi was already scrolling through the Instagram app on her phone. When she had finally found Izuna’s account, she held it out for them to look. Under the current subscriber number (which had now officially passed 200’000 followers, somehow – Sasuke wanted to ram his head against the wall), a picture showing the deep blue sea had been posted, in the center his uncle winking at the camera and holding two fingers crossed in a heart.
“It doesn’t show anyone else who might be there,” Shisui muttered. Sasuke squinted to read the text beneath the picture and immediately stopped again when he spotted the words ‘demure’ and ‘slay’. Itachi turned towards him, brows furrowed in question, when Sasuke got up to find that good spot of wall to ram his head against.
Shisui had already moved on, “This is a dead end. There has to be another way we can find out who is marrying Madara.”
But none of them could come up with a single idea. They spent the rest of the evening brooding.
✦
“The identity of who might be Madara’s fiancé has become quite the source of endless speculation at the office,” Shisui told Sasuke and Itachi a week later.
They were sitting in a park near the police building, huddled together. It was Shisui’s and Itachi’s lunchbreak. Izumi had not managed to come, still working on rewriting her entire report from scratch because Madara had found a typo in it. Shisui had described Izumi’s scolding by Madara in front of the entire 44th with the air of someone who had survived a war crime.
“Really, you haven’t found anything,” Sasuke asked, having long since given up on the pretense that he didn’t care. “What kind of detectives are you?”
His brother flicked him against the forehead in chastisement, but Shisui only shot him a deadpan glance, immune to Sasuke’s snark by now. That was the problem with having Shisui as a relative. “It is not so easy, cousin. Madara hasn’t let anything slip so far. His calendar doesn’t have any engagements written in it that aren’t strictly work-related, there have been no suspicious phone calls, and no pictures have popped up on his desk.” He paused. “Plus, what are we supposed to do? Ask him about it?” Anyone who tried would probably end up incinerated (which was a real possibility, because the only person better at arson than Uchiha Izuna was his big bad brother, Madara).
“The DA doesn’t know anything either,” Itachi muttered. “They have been needling me with questions.”
“Seriously?” Sasuke was surprised. The DA, minus Tobirama, normally tried to stay out of anything Madara-related.
“They find the fact that Madara is getting married very unsettling.”
“Well, they are not wrong,” Shisui mumbled into his half-eaten onigiri. “That is about the same vibe in the office. Everyone’s preparing for a second Indra.”
They all fell quiet after that. It was frustrating. A week since the announcement, and they had learned next to nothing about this mysterious fiancé; all they knew about was the simple, but beautiful engagement ring that had been sighted on the fourth finger of Madara’s left hand, turning their nightmare suddenly much more real.
They had almost finished their lunch when Izumi finally joined them. She wore a murderous expression on her face and scanned their surroundings three times before launching into a rant about the pointlessness of the report, the injustices of the Japanese syntax structure, and the utter irredeemability of Uchiha Madara. Shisui only patted her on the back in sympathy, telling Itachi and Sasuke with a grave voice how he had been at the end of Madara’s ire only yesterday, when he had been too late to a meeting.
“Two minutes. I was late two minutes. And it wasn’t even my fault. The elevator broke down. But Madara didn’t care to hear my explanation,” he said, abandoning his typical (and for an Uchiha very atypical) cheerfulness. Izumi eyed Sasuke’s half-eaten dango and he handed it over without complaint. He was a badass, not the Antichrist.
He received something that might resemble a muffled ‘thank you’ through a mouthful of fried dough and after a few minutes, Izumi seemed to be able to breathe normally again. “Something could be gained through my pain, however.” She inhaled deeply, flicking back her hair and said, “I saw how flowers were delivered to Madara’s office. And I mean really nice ones. Red long-stemmed roses. And, I managed to catch a look at the card. All gibberish, unfortunately.”
“What do you mean, gibberish?”
“I mean, there was no way a sane person could ever decrypt those characters. It looked like a wrecking ball fell into a box of crayons.”
Shisui made a frustrated sound. “So, still no name?”
Izumi’s shoulders sank. “No, I am afraid not.”
A collective sigh was the response.
✦
Life moved on, somehow. Sasuke went to the movies with Naruto and Sakura to watch the sequel to Icha Icha paradise, where Sakura and he had to physically restrain Naruto from running over to their old high school teacher when they spotted him in the front row. They visited several bakeries and tried new pastries, Naruto somehow charming all the shop keepers with an easy smile and his friendly nature into giving them free samples. In the evenings, Sakura pulled them into some shady clubs with a fake ID, where they danced under the wild lights. His friends even managed to get Sasuke to join in on a shopping-spree once, during which Sasuke and Naruto fulfilled more of a decorative function as they were coerced into carrying Sakura’s bags for her (Sasuke only came because Sai, that annoying friend Naruto and Sakura had made when he had considered himself too cool to hang out with them, had offered to go in his stead).
However, the threat of the upcoming wedding hung over Sasuke like a storm cloud. Especially because his friends seemed to be just as interested in the Uchiha Madara’s love life as the rest of his family, constantly poking and probing Sasuke for information and complaining almost as much as Shisui and Izumi when he told them they had nothing.
It was on a rainy Monday evening when Sasuke finally had an opportunity to advance their investigation into the identity of the mystery fiancé.
He was sitting with his mother in the kitchen, stomach rumbling as he longingly looked at the dinner that was already prepared on the stove. But he knew better than to try and steal a bite. His mother didn’t look dangerous, but she had been part of the police force just like his father until she had given birth to Itachi, and was to this day the record-holding champion of the police marksman competition.
Uchiha Mikoto looked at the clock a bit worriedly before she took pity on her son and handed him a banana to snack on.
“Is Dad still at the precinct,” Sasuke asked, carefully peeling the fruit.
“Yes, this has been happening more and more recently. He was supposed to be here an hour ago.” She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before sitting down next to him, looking resigned. Sasuke grimaced obviously at her in protest but left it at that for once.
“Why?”
Mikoto sighed, “Madara insists. But it is taking on ridiculous proportions. And it is always Fugaku who has to stay behind.”
Sasuke frowns, “Do you think that Madara is punishing Dad? Shisui told me that most of the squad prefer Dad over him by now. They want him to take over as Captain.”
“Oh, no. I think that if he knew that, Madara would have a much worse reaction.” Mikoto sighed and got up to get the pots that are left heated on the stove.
“Well, it is no use. I don’t want you to starve, just because Madara-“
The sound of Fugaku’s keys jingling interrupted her and shortly after, their front door opened. Mikoto set down the pots on the table with a relieved expression, just when Fugaku entered the kitchen. But he wasn’t alone. Like an evil spirit that appeared when it was called three times, Madara walked through the entrance that connected the hallway with the kitchen.
The birds have stopped singing, Sasuke noticed absent-mindedly as he stared at the sudden intruder. Madara hadn’t changed at all since he last saw him a year ago. He still wore his thick tresses of black hair ridiculously long and Sasuke knew that if he didn’t tie it up in a high ponytail, the wild mane would reach down to his waist. His lips were twisted into his usual scowl. The creepily intense focus in his dark eyes hadn’t changed either, and Sasuke felt eerily analyzed. As a child, he’d been convinced that his uncle could read minds.
Mikoto must have felt similarly uncomfortable, and she hurriedly motioned for him to sit down, her smile forced.
Their clan head waved her off. “I am just here to get something. Your Uzumaki friend, Kushina, left it here. A book about calligraphy, I believe?” Sasuke’s jaw slacked in surprise, as did his mother’s, but Madara didn’t provide any further explanation. Fugaku rubbed the bridge of his nose, leaving a visible red imprint behind. He looked like he was getting a migraine.
Since when does that evil bastard run errands? For someone outside the family no less?
Mikoto was the first one to break out of her stupor. “I- of course. I think I know what book you’re talking about,” she disappeared in the adjoining living room and left Fugaku and Sasuke behind with Madara. Fugaku still hadn’t sat down and stood stiff as a board, staring intensely at the opposite wall.
“You may eat,” Madara drawled after a while.
“No, it’s fine. I am not hungry,” Sasuke lied, ignoring his stomach rumbling in protest. He was decidedly not imitated by the ancient fossil. Which was starting to sound ridiculous, even to his own ears, he mused as he observed Madara. The nickname, not the fact that he was indeed very much relaxed in his uncle’s presence.
Madara must be around sixty by now, and he still didn’t look a day over thirty-five. His face sported some wrinkles, yes, but they hadn’t extended over the lines of the corners of his eyes. His eyebags were perhaps a bit more pronounced than before. But otherwise, Madara really hadn’t aged. The comparison was especially cruel when one saw Madara standing next to Sasuke’s own father. Uchiha Fugaku was forty-two and wore his age more than clearly. The years hadn’t been as kind to him as to Sasuke’s mother, and definitely not as they had been to Madara. The stress lines (that Izuna had called ‘face canyons’ so lovingly) had gotten even deeper over the past few months. Probably ever since Madara had started to keep his father post working hours.
Perhaps that’s how he does it, Sasuke narrowed his eyes at his clan head. Perhaps he is syphoning my father’s youth to keep himself young. It seems like something he could have learned from Uncle Izuna.
“Oh? The Tokyo Institute of Technology,” Madara interrupted his thoughts. Sasuke didn’t understand for a short moment before he followed Madara’s line of sight and saw that he was looking at Sasuke’s acceptance letter that was pinned up on their fridge.
“Ah, yes, I got in,” Sasuke answered, a bit surprised that his uncle deemed something like this even worthy of notice.
“Hn,” was the only answer he received and Madara went back to his usual scowl.
Sasuke quickly glanced at his father, but he simply looked irritated. When he received no visible reaction from him, Sasuke relaxed a little, a slight feeling of pride warming his stomach without permission. That lasted for about five seconds and ended abruptly when Madara said,
“Didn’t get into Tokyo University like your brother, eh?”
His father inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. Sasuke shrunk into his chair, shriveling into himself like a dying plant. An unfortunate reflex he still hadn’t learned to suppress whenever someone compared him to his genius brother.
“No”, Saskue finally managed to get out between gritted teeth, and it came out weaker than he had hoped for. In that moment, Mikoto returned, holding a book in her hands. When she saw them all together, Fugaku looking like he had swallowed a whole lemon, Sasuke’s shriveled form and Madara, who was still looking at Sasuke’s acceptance letter with mild interest, she managed to connect the dots quickly.
“There you go, Madara-sama. I think this is Kushina’s book,” she pressed the book a bit too forcefully into his hands.
Madara merely glanced at it before he shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I will look for it myself.” Without waiting for her permission, he entered the living room, followed by Mikoto who seemed like she dearly wanted to cuff him for his impoliteness.
Fugaku, unwilling to leave his wife alone to deal with his boss, followed them quickly. Sasuke sat in his chair for a few more seconds, trying his hardest not to feel sorry for himself. It wasn’t like him to wallow in self-pity, but his relationship with his father combined with his own failure when compared to Itachi’s brilliance had always been his Achilles’ heel. And while he disliked Madara greatly and would give anything to kick him enthusiastically in the shin just once, the child desperate for approval in him cowed at the fact that an Uchiha even more talented than his brother and father had called out the fact that Itachi got into Japan’s top university and Sasuke didn’t.
Anger and shame bubbled in his stomach, and they whispered a reckless but tempting idea of vengeance into his ear.
He got up and sneaked to the front door, easily locating Madara’s uniform jacket. Listening with one ear in case his uncle returned, he patted down the material and found Madara’s cell phone. It was the only real proof the Uchiha clan had that Madara was actually an old man, because who on earth still used a flip phone? The password was easy to guess, and Sasuke entered Uncle Izuna’s birthday date – the only person Madara openly showed affection for.
The home screen lit up and illuminated Sasuke’s triumphant smile, as he looked for the picture app. It quickly disappeared however, the longer he searched.
Does this…does this phone not have a camera?
Sasuke turned and twisted the device in his hands to find any clue but came up empty. He stared at the phone for a while, feeling a little lost in the grand scheme of things right now.
No, he had to stay focused.
He opened the message app next, after having to fiddle with the buttons a while. The first contact was simply marked ‘SH’. After closer examination, Sasuke noticed with a sinking feeling in his stomach that all of Madara’s contacts were saved as initials. ‘UI’ must mean Uchiha Izuna. He went back to the messages and opened the chat with ‘SH’ who had asked Madara if they were still on to meet at the dojo the next morning.
Feeling petty, Sasuke wanted to cancel the meeting and tell this SH to go fuck himself. He tried to type in the message, but quickly had to admit defeat when he didn’t manage to crack the code of how to use the buttons – they had three to four letters marked next to the numbers zero to nine.
He was running out of time.
Beads of sweat started to form on his temple as he opened the contact app. He squinted a little and finally – after six long weeks – he found something that helped the Uchiha clan in their investigation of Madara’s love life that may or may not cause the destruction of their entire clan. When he heard a commotion in the living room, he quickly turned off the phone and put it back where he found it, reentering the kitchen just in time with his parents and Madara. Madara was holding a book and swiftly said his goodbyes without thanking Mikoto for her help.
As soon as he was out the door, Mikoto complained to her husband about Madara’s manners. Fugaku simply put a comforting arm around his wife, while looking at the medicine cabinet in contemplation. They never had any alcohol in the house, and he was probably figuring that cough syrup was the next best thing.
Sasuke quietly excused himself and went to his room, texting his group chat with Itachi, Shisui, and Izumi about what had just happened, including what he had found on Madara’s phone.
Then he called Sakura to tell her about Madara’s phone. She straight up did not believe him when he told her about the buttons and hung up with a scoff when he insisted that it didn’t have a camera.
It was close to midnight when he finally got dinner.
✦
The next day, Sasuke accompanied Shisui to the 44th.
“Come on,” Shisui smiled, leading him through the maze of desks, heading for Izumi’s place. She shared the office table with two of Sasuke’s least favorite family members; Inabi and Tekka. He couldn’t suppress the instant swell of pity he felt for her. Izumi waved at them and motioned for them to come over, turning her wheelie-chair toward them.
“Any news,” Shisui asked, leaning his hip against her table. Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke spied Tekka and Inabi continue scribbling on police reports a little too casually.
“No, not yet,” she sighed, resting her chin on her hands. “The system is still scouring the database, but it takes forever.” Sasuke glanced at her computer and immediately understood why. While most other Uchiha in the precinct had modern sleek flatscreens, Izumi was stuck with an ancient contraption that resembled a solid box. “Stupid Senju – I’m stuck with this relic because of him,” she cursed, hitting the computer once for good measure. “He complained to the IT that our precinct is burning through new tech too quickly after I broke my last one.”
Shisui put a hand on her shoulder and frowned, “This shouldn’t be so difficult. There are only so many people that Madara would deem worthy of his attention.”
“Oh, we are starting early today with the Madara-talk,” Sasuke’s Auntie Naori sauntered over from her desk. Her purple hair was turning grey at the crown, and she was clutching a cup of watery coffee in her hands like it was her first born. Kagami came over as well, together with his nephew Yashiro. Naori’s younger brother Naka followed quickly. He had to be around the same age as they assumed Izuna to be. As their first cousins, Naori and Naka had both grown up alongside Madara and Izuna, and Sasuke’s grandfather Hikaku. Hikaku came from a different branch and was already retired as the oldest one of the five. He lived a quiet life at the outskirts of Tokyo, away from the rest of his family, although he dropped by every three months to attend Izuna’s disastrous family reunions.
At one point, Naori and Naka might have expected special treatment from Madara as his first cousins, much like Izuna clearly received. But if they had ever hoped for that, they must have quickly woken up to the sobering reality.
Sasuke actually liked Auntie Naori. She was a calming presence in the office, despite her misplaced fondness for power games, and she always managed to keep her younger brother in line. Over the years, she’d broken many men’s hearts, a fact she gleefully shared with Itachi and Sasuke whenever they had asked her as children, when she had come over to babysit.
Soon, Sasuke was surrounded by family members.
Izumi took a deep breath and carefully looked around for Madara. He had left with Fugaku for the interrogation room an hour ago, but that didn’t mean much.
When she was certain that they were gone, she paused dramatically, waiting for tension to build. Unfortunately, that didn’t really work when it came to Uchiha. Stoicism was part of their DNA thread, and they could set world records in acting apathetic out of spite. She had to admit defeat quickly.
“We finally have a name.”
They all froze for a moment. Then Inabi exclaimed, “What?” at the same time Naka said, “No way,” and they all glared at Izumi, waiting for details. She smiled smugly at all of them, but before she could exploit her family’s rare moment of weakness, Shisui interrupted her. “Actually, it was Sasuke who found the name,” he said proudly.
“How on earth did you do that,” Tekka asked, sounding unwillingly impressed. Sasuke smirked, capitalizing shamelessly on Izumi’s moment of triumph. She still owed him for that time she had ratted to Naruto and Sakura about his affection for Shiba Inu puppies. “Oh, it wasn’t all that hard. Madara came to our house yesterday and it took only five minutes of idle snooping around on his phone when he wasn’t looking.” Obviously, he wasn’t gonna mention his problems with Madara’s dinosaur-device.
“Come on, what’s the name,” Inabi asked impatiently.
“Well, according to Madara’s calendar, he is meeting someone named Mito tonight at a super fancy restaurant,” Shisui revealed to his co-workers. “You know anyone named like that?”
They all shook their heads, puzzled.
“I called the restaurant earlier today, but the reservation is under Madara’s name. Izumi has started looking though the database, but – well, you know.” He sighed and pointed at Izumi's computer, which had now started spitting out a string of meaningless code. A chorus of ‘damned Senju’ echoed through the room like a group prayer.
“The database has only found two women with the name ‘Mito’ in Japan, and I couldn’t tell you which one of them seems more unlikely to get married to Madara.”
Naori looked at Izumi’s screen and crossed his arms with a frown. “Hn, unless Madara is a secret gerontophile and enjoys having an ninety-seven-year-old woman in his bed, this one’s out.”
“Yeah, I bet a sweet old lady like that could do a lot better,” Yashiro muttered to Sasuke.
“The other Mito has been in Antarctica for the past three years. On a research trip,” Kagami said. “That’s impossible. Madara hates the cold.”
“Mito, hm,” a raspy voice repeated from behind them. Sasuke turned around, and as the group of Uchiha around him parted, he came face-to-face with one of his cousins. A scarred face stared down at him, gaze haughty and arrogant - just like Madara’s.
“Obito,” Sasuke said quietly, not overly enthusiastic to see him.
“Obito, back from Kyoto? How was the case,” Kagami greeted the thirty-year old enthusiastically.
“Easy. Caught the perp and he confessed immediately,” he said, not even looking at him, but keeping his eyes trained on Sasuke. He was still wearing his jacket and had a traveling-bag in one hand. “Why are you guys searching for women named Mito?”
Sasuke lifted his chin, unwilling to succumb to Uchiha Obito of all people.
“I looked through Madara’s phone yesterday. The old man’s calendar said he was going to meet with someone named Mito.”
Obito’s lips curled into a mean smirk. “Hn. If that is in fact true, it would be quite surprising.”
“Are you calling me a liar,” Sasuke scowled, but was quickly cut off by Izumi. “Why is that? Do you know who that is,” she asked with glowing eyes.
“Of course,” Obito drawled, casting her a look of contempt. “I am surprised that you haven’t figured it out yet. It’s hardly that difficult.”
Kagami must have the patience of a saint, because he merely clapped his hands in delight and implored Obito to continue.
“Mito is from the Uzumaki family. A woman Madara has been holding a grudge against for decades.”
“Wait, Uzumaki,” Sasuke exclaimed, thinking of Naruto’s mother Kushina, who was also his mother’s best friend.
“It would make sense, then, that you couldn't find anything about her in the database,” Naori said broodingly. “The Uzumaki family is very private.”
“But if Madara holds a grudge against her, then why would he invite her to dinner,” Naka wondered.
“Doesn’t matter, she’s still our best candidate for the mysterious identity of Madara’s fiancé,” Shisui said, arms crossed. “She’s from an old, powerful family – exactly the kind of thing I imagine could be interesting for Madara.”
“Not only that, but Mito is their matriarch,” Obito said, stepping up to Izumi’s desk. He raised a condescending eyebrow. “Now, can you come to a conclusion on your own, or do you need me to guide you through the process?”
Inabi looked like he wanted to say something decidedly unfriendly but was held back by Tekka, who simply shook his head.
“This could mean that Mito is either his fiancé or he means to ask her for her blessing to marry one of her family members.” Shisui proposed. Kagami put an arm around his son, squeezing his shoulder affectionally with a wide smile on his face. “Excellent idea, son.”
Sasuke rolled his eyes at the display but immediately stopped when he saw Obito doing the same. Their gazes crossed, and they both glared at each other.
Sasuke and Obito had never really managed to warm up to each other. Sasuke mainly because Obito had adopted some of Madara’s worst tendencies after growing up in his care following his parents’ death at the age of ten. And because Obito was one of only two people in existence with the universally renowned skill to upset Itachi (the other being their father).
Obito hated Sasuke simply because he seemed to hate the entire world.
His cousin eventually turned away and went back to listening to the discussion between their family members.
"Gods, I can’t believe this took us six weeks," Naka muttered, taking a long sip of his coffee.
Izumi had meanwhile managed to find a picture of Uzumaki Mito, and she whistled lowly through her teeth. “Well, if Madara managed to snatch that, I might have to reevaluate my entire opinion of him.” She turned the computer screen toward them, so that everyone could see her face. Surprised, Sasuke had to agree with Izumi. Uzumaki Mito was a beautiful woman, with deep red hair and piercing eyes. He studied the picture, easily spotting a clear resemblance to Kushina. Naruto, however, shared none of her features.
Gods, I could be related-by-marriage to Naruto, he suddenly realized to himself, shock paralyzing him for a hot minute. He didn’t know how to feel about that.
The bell of the elevator startled them all, and Naori shooed them all back to their desks. Izumi hastily tried to delete the picture and started panicking when her computer froze. Desperately, she looked around for help, but everyone had already returned to their desks, pretending very hard to do their paperwork. She short-handedly yanked her computer out of the circuit, shoved it into her desk drawer, and slammed it shut.
Sasuke stood next to Shisui, feigning to be very interested in something his cousin showed him.
Madara walked in once the doors opened, his long hair smacking Fugaku in the face as he left the elevator.
He stopped in his tracks to frown at all of them. Nobody dared looking up. Sasuke cursed inwardly. Of course, the bastard would notice that something was wrong immediately. When he didn’t say anything and walked over to Naori’s desk, Sasuke could hear Shisui exhale a little.
“Naori, I need the crime statistics immediately. Also, I want the written reports on the uniformed officers' training progress. As their Seargent, I assume you have taken daily notes.”
“Yes, of course,” she said with a pained smile, opening her drawer to pull out a heavy file. “I could have sent you an E-Mail, though. Less work and much easier to keep record.”
Madara only let out a sound of derision, taking the file from her. It was then, when Sasuke spotted it at the same time as Naori.
“Oh, a book about calligraphy, Madara? I didn’t know you were interested.” She pointed at the book that was tucked under his arm as he briefly looked over the files.
“Hn. I couldn’t care less about calligraphy. This is for someone else.”
They all waited anxiously for him to continue but Madara didn’t elaborate. Obito stood up then, a calculating look on his face. “I remember you once saying that Mito of the Uzumaki family was a master-calligraphist. This book wouldn’t be for her, would it?”
Slowly, very slowly, Madara turned around so that they could all get a good look on his face. He studied Obito for a few moments, before nodding.
“You would be correct.”
“Oh, so the mysterious fiancé you have yet to tell us anything about is an Uzumaki?”
Sasuke couldn’t help but be a little impressed. Only Obito ever confronted Madara directly like that.
Madara remained silent, his gaze unreadable, offering no hint of his thoughts. The air around them grew heavier, charged with unspoken sentiment. A sense of unease crept in as the quiet stretched on, thick with a tension that none of them dared to break. A few Uchiha shuffled in their seats.
Then, Madara slowly started to smile. It was a horrible, mean grimace. A loud laugh escaped him, that made them collectively recoil. “Six weeks since the announcement and that is what you come up with, Obito? Once again, you prove to me that your talents of deduction are weaker than Itachi’s loyalty to the clan, detective.” Obito jerked back as if he’d just gotten punched. Fugaku made a noise like a squished bug at the back of his throat. Everybody else didn’t dare move.
“My, my, I expected nothing and am still disappointed.” Madara stopped cackling. “Back to work everyone. I want those reports finished by noon, seeing that you had enough time to launch a failed investigation into my private life.” With that he disappeared into his office. Obito stood frozen for a while longer, eyes wide and face pale, before he turned around and stormed out.
They watched him leave awkwardly, Kagami sighing sadly. Sasuke looked at the wooden surface of Shisui’s desk in discomfort.
That was why he would never really be able to hate Obito. Even though that guy was a jerk, he probably had gotten the shortest end of the stick in the entire Uchiha clan. Madara was terrible to all of them, but he was downright cruel to Obito.
Kagami had once told them, voice so secretive that Itachi and Sasuke had to lean forward to understand him, that as a child Obito actually used to smile. But it seemed that living with Madara had drained any goodness right out of him.
“I hope he drives his car against a wall,” Izumi hissed as they all got back to work.