Archive of Our Own

There were, Sakura had discovered over the course of loving Sasuke Uchiha, certain experiences for which no amount of patience, medical training, battlefield experience, or intimate familiarity with his personality could adequately prepare a person, and finding her future husband seated in the middle of their living room beneath the warm evening light, surrounded by enough ancient scrolls to suggest that he had either decided to resurrect the administrative branch of the Uchiha clan or had accidentally uncovered evidence of a particularly bureaucratic conspiracy, was rapidly becoming one of them.

She remained near the entrance for several moments after removing her shoes, still dressed in the clothes she had worn beneath her hospital coat that day, and watched him with growing curiosity as he leaned over an enormous ledger whose pages had yellowed with age, his dark hair falling slightly across his forehead while his expression carried the same severe concentration he normally reserved for deciphering enemy intelligence. Several additional scrolls had been opened around him in an arrangement that seemed chaotic to Sakura but undoubtedly followed some incomprehensible organizational system inside Sasuke's head, and beside his knee rested a wooden box bearing the Uchiha crest, its surface worn smooth enough to suggest that it had existed long before either of them had been born.

Sakura folded her arms and leaned one shoulder against the wall. "Should I be worried that you've apparently started an archaeological excavation in our living room, or is this one of those situations where you're going to tell me everything is fine and then I discover three hours later that you've found a forbidden jutsu beneath the floorboards?"

Sasuke lifted his eyes from the ledger, regarded her for a moment as though deciding whether the question deserved an answer, and then returned his attention to the page with the infuriating calm of a man who had never once understood that saying, "No," in that particular tone only made Sakura significantly more suspicious.

"That's reassuring," she murmured as she crossed the room, carefully stepping over an unfurled scroll before lowering herself beside him. "Very convincing. I feel completely safe."

"You should."

"The last time you said that, I found you trying to remove your own stitches with a kunai."

"It was clean."

"It was a kunai."

"It worked."

"It did not work, because I took it away from you."

Sasuke apparently decided that continuing this discussion would only provide Sakura with further opportunities to remind him of his questionable medical decisions, because he turned another page instead of answering, but Sakura had already noticed several familiar characters written along the upper margin of the document, and when she leaned closer to read them properly, her confusion only deepened.

"Marriage records?"

Sasuke's hand paused briefly against the paper. "Clan records."

"About marriage."

"Among other things."

Sakura slowly turned her head toward him, and the unmistakable beginnings of amusement were already gathering in her eyes. "Sasuke, we've been engaged for less than two weeks. Please tell me you haven't already begun researching whether your ancestors would approve of me."

"They're dead."

"That wasn't the part of the sentence I expected you to object to."

He gave her a flat look, but Sakura was already reaching for the nearest scroll, fascinated now by the possibility that somewhere among these ancient records existed an entire collection of Uchiha wedding traditions Sasuke had somehow neglected to mention during the three years they had been together. Before her fingers reached the parchment, however, Sasuke calmly moved it to the opposite side of his body.

Sakura's hand remained suspended in the empty space where the scroll had been.

For a moment she simply stared at it before slowly looking at him. "Did you just hide that from me?"

"No."

"You moved it away from my hand while I was reaching for it."

"It was in the way."

"Of my hand."

Sasuke's expression did not change, which was unfortunately all the confirmation Sakura required, and she immediately shifted closer until their knees touched, her earlier curiosity transforming into the determined interest of a woman who had just discovered that someone was attempting to keep information from her.

"What does it say?"

"Nothing relevant."

"Then give it to me."

"No."

"Sasuke."

"Sakura."

The warning in his voice might have discouraged someone who had not spent years learning that Sasuke's most intimidating tone lost approximately seventy percent of its effectiveness when he was sitting barefoot on their living-room floor surrounded by dusty marriage records, and Sakura merely smiled before reaching around him with her other hand. Sasuke caught her wrist without looking, which prompted Sakura to use the first hand, which he caught as well, leaving them in the profoundly dignified position of the last surviving Uchiha holding his fiancée by both wrists while she leaned halfway across his lap trying to steal an ancestral document.

"Give me the scroll."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to find something ridiculous and insist that we do it."

Sakura stopped struggling. Sasuke immediately realized his mistake. The smile that spread across her face was so bright that he almost looked offended by it.

"There's something ridiculous in there."

"I didn't say that."

"You absolutely said that."

"I said you would find something ridiculous."

"Which means there is something for me to find."

Sasuke released her wrists with the weary resignation of a man who understood that the battle had already been lost, and Sakura wasted no time snatching the scroll from beside him before he could reconsider. She opened it across her lap with entirely too much enthusiasm, her eyes moving rapidly over the faded writing while Sasuke watched her expression with increasing displeasure, and it took less than a minute before she found the section he had apparently hoped she would never see.

Her eyebrows rose.

Then they rose farther. By the time she finally looked at him, Sasuke already appeared exhausted.

"There is an interview."

"We're not doing it."

"You have to interview me before I'm allowed to marry you."

"No, I don't."

Sakura turned the scroll toward him and pointed at the relevant passage with one finger. "According to several generations of your extremely serious ancestors, the acting head of the Uchiha clan is required to conduct a formal assessment of the intended spouse's suitability before marriage."

"We already know you're suitable."

"You don't know that."

Sasuke stared at the woman he had known since childhood, fought beside through a war, trusted with his life more times than either of them could count, dated for three years, lived with for nearly one, and personally asked to marry him less than two weeks earlier.

"I know."

Sakura pressed her lips together because she could feel herself beginning to laugh. "Maybe you've overlooked something."

"I haven't."

"What if I'm secretly financially irresponsible?"

"You have three separate savings accounts."

"What if I don't want children?"

"You've told me you do."

"What if I bring dishonor upon the Uchiha clan?"

"You threatened a council member with a chair last year."

"He deserved it."

"Hm."

"That isn't the point."

"It proves I know what I'm marrying."

Sakura's composure finally cracked, and laughter escaped her as she lowered her gaze to the scroll again, but instead of being discouraged by Sasuke's complete refusal to participate, she only became more determined to discover exactly how absurd the ancient ritual could become. "We're doing the interview."

"No."

"Your ancestors demand it."

"My ancestors have no authority over my marriage."

"They're going to be my ancestors too."

The words left Sakura casually, spoken with the same teasing confidence as everything else, yet the effect they had on Sasuke was immediate enough that she noticed it despite how little his expression changed. Something in his face softened, his gaze resting on her for a fraction longer than necessary, and Sakura's own amusement faded into a warmer smile when she realized that, beneath all the ridiculousness of the conversation, there was still something quietly profound about the fact that the people Sasuke had lost would soon become part of her family too.

She might have allowed the moment to remain tender if she had possessed even slightly more self-control.

Unfortunately, she did not.

"So," she continued, tapping the scroll against her palm, "seven tomorrow evening should work for my formal evaluation."

Sasuke's expression immediately returned to normal. "No."

"I'll prepare."

"There's nothing to prepare for."

"Excellent. Then I should perform naturally."

"We're not doing it."

"Should I dress formally?"

"Sakura."

"Do I need references?"

He closed his eyes.

"Would Kakashi count as a respectable reference, or does the fact that he reads pornography in public disqualify him?"

"Sakura."

"I suppose Tsunade could provide one, although she might include my gambling history."

"You don't have a gambling history."

"I have a history of gambling with Tsunade, which is arguably worse."

Sasuke reached for the scroll.

Sakura pulled it against her chest.

"No. This is mine now."

"It's a clan record."

"I'm joining the clan."

"Not if you keep stealing clan property."

She gasped with exaggerated offense. "Are you already threatening to reject my application?"

"There is no application."

"There is literally an interview."

"Which we're not doing."

They did the interview the following evening.

Sasuke would later insist that this happened only because Sakura had become so insufferable about it that conducting the ritual was the fastest way to make her stop talking about it, but this explanation became significantly less convincing when Sakura arrived home at seven to discover that he had already arranged the translated questions in order, placed ink and a brush beside himself, and prepared tea for both of them.

She said nothing about this.

She merely looked at the table, then at him, and smiled with such unbearable satisfaction that Sasuke immediately regretted preparing anything.

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking loudly."

Sakura lowered herself onto the cushion opposite him, smoothing her skirt beneath her knees before placing both hands neatly in her lap with an exaggerated degree of formality. "I am ready to be assessed, Clan Head Uchiha."

He picked up the first page.

"This was your idea."

"I know. I'm extremely excited."

"You won't be in ten minutes."

"Is that a threat from the interviewer?"

"It's experience."

Sakura straightened her shoulders and adopted the solemn expression of someone appearing before a council rather than sitting across the coffee table from the man whose socks she had folded that morning. "Proceed."

Sasuke looked at the first question and immediately appeared to reconsider his entire involvement in the ritual.

"State your full name."

Sakura waited.

He looked up.

"Well?"

"I know your name."

"The interview doesn't."

"The paper doesn't care."

"You have to respect the procedure, Sasuke."

For several seconds he looked as though he was trying to determine whether it was legally possible to withdraw one's own marriage proposal on the grounds of excessive commitment to historical accuracy, but eventually he dipped the brush into the ink.

"Name."

"Haruno Sakura."

He wrote it down.

"Age."

"Twenty-four."

"Occupation."

Sakura lifted her chin. "Medical-nin, Head of Medical Response Coordination at Konoha Hospital, former apprentice of the Fifth Hokage, decorated war veteran, and long-term manager of one particularly difficult Uchiha."

The brush stopped.

"That last one isn't an occupation."

"It takes more hours than my actual job."

"I'm removing it."

"You haven't written it."

"I'm preemptively removing it."

Sakura leaned forward to inspect the page, but Sasuke covered it with his hand before she could see what he had written. "Are you already making negative comments about me?"

"No."

"That sounded suspicious."

"Do you possess independent financial means?"

"Yes."

"Outstanding debt?"

"No."

"Property?"

"My apartment."

"Criminal history?"

Sakura opened her mouth, hesitated, and then tilted her head.

Sasuke slowly looked up.

"Why did you hesitate?"

"I was thinking."

"About whether you have a criminal history?"

"Nothing resulted in formal charges."

The brush remained suspended above the paper.

"Sakura."

"Gaara handled it."

"What did Gaara handle?"

"It was years ago."

"What did Gaara handle?"

"Are you interviewing me as my fiancé or as a former international criminal, because I feel there may be a conflict of interest here."

Sasuke stared at her for several seconds before making a small mark beside the question.

Sakura immediately pointed at the paper. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"You wrote something."

"Next question."

"I want access to my evaluation records."

"You don't have access."

"I'm the subject of the evaluation."

"I'm the clan head."

"That's an abuse of power."

"This was your idea."

Sakura sat back with a mutinous expression while Sasuke moved on, and the interview remained reasonably normal for several minutes as they discussed finances, property, employment and whether Sakura intended to continue working after marriage, although she objected strongly when Sasuke accepted her answer without further evaluation.

"You didn't even think about that one."

"You said you want to keep working."

"Yes."

"Then keep working."

"What if I had said I wanted to quit?"

"Then quit."

"What if I wanted to work only three days a week?"

"Work three days."

"What if I wanted to open a bakery?"

Sasuke finally looked up. "Do you want to open a bakery?"

"No."

"Then why are we discussing this?"

"Because I am testing the quality of the assessment."

"You're testing my patience."

"Is patience one of the marital requirements?"

"For me, apparently."

Sakura smiled brilliantly.

The next subject was children, and although the question initially softened the ridiculous atmosphere between them, even that seriousness survived for less than a minute.

"Do you intend to have children?" Sasuke asked, his voice quieter than it had been during the previous questions.

Sakura's smile became gentler as she looked at him. "Yes."

He marked the answer before continuing. "Preferred number?"

She thought about it, although they had touched on the subject before without ever settling on anything definite. "Two, I think."

Sasuke's brush paused so briefly that another person might not have noticed.

Sakura always noticed.

"Two?"

"Two is fine."

"Fine?"

He looked at her.

"That's all I get?"

"What do you want?"

Sakura clasped her hands dramatically over her heart. "Perhaps something along the lines of, 'Sakura, nothing would bring me greater joy than filling our home with the laughter of the beautiful children created from our eternal love.'"

"No."

"You didn't even consider it."

"I considered it enough."

"You're very emotionally unavailable for a man conducting a marriage interview."

"Two is fine."

Sakura sighed. "Our children will be lucky to inherit my conversational skills."

"They'll need to."

She narrowed her eyes. Sasuke moved quickly to the next question.

"Should children of the clan begin formal combat training before the age of six?"

"No."

"Correct."

Sakura's expression changed immediately. "Excuse me?"

Sasuke looked up.

"What do you mean, correct?"

"That's the recommended answer."

"There are recommended answers?"

"For some questions."

"You told me this was an interview."

"It is."

"You have an answer key."

"It's guidance."

"It's an answer key written by dead Uchihas."

Sasuke's mouth tightened, and Sakura knew from experience that this meant he was trying not to react. "Would you prefer I ignore the clan records during the clan ritual you forced me to perform?"

"I did not force you. I respectfully insisted."

"You stole the scroll."

"I am your future wife. Apparently I have to protect clan property from poor management."

Sasuke looked down at the page and made another mark.

Sakura's eyes narrowed. "You wrote something about me again."

"Next question."

The truly disastrous portion of the interview began approximately twenty minutes later, when the practical questions concerning inheritance, household responsibilities and the education of future children gave way to a much older section whose wording was formal enough that Sakura initially expected something profound.

Sasuke read the first question silently and immediately frowned.

Sakura leaned forward.

"What?"

"It's outdated."

"That makes me want to hear it more."

"It's irrelevant."

"Sasuke."

He sighed before reading aloud. "If your husband returns to the household after nightfall without prior notice, which response is most appropriate?"

Sakura considered the question with considerably more seriousness than it deserved. "How late?"

"It doesn't say."

"Then it's badly written."

"It's several hundred years old."

"Bad survey methodology existed several hundred years ago too. Am I supposed to react the same way if you're ten minutes late and if you disappear for three days?"

Sasuke looked at the available responses. "Apparently."

"Fine. What are my options?"

"Prepare a meal and await his return, inform the senior woman of the household, retire without confrontation, or remain awake in the marital chambers until he returns."

Sakura's expression became completely blank. Sasuke watched her. Her lips began to twitch.

"Don't."

She pressed them together.

"Sakura."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're about to."

"I'm simply appreciating the historical importance of waiting seductively in the marital chambers while my husband wanders around Konoha without sending a message."

"That's not what it says."

"Which answer is correct?"

Sasuke glanced down. "Preparing a meal."

Sakura's laughter disappeared instantly. "Absolutely not."

"It's the recommended answer."

"If you vanish for three days without telling me where you are, the only meal I'm preparing is my own."

"I wouldn't vanish for three days."

"You once left the village for several years."

"That was before we were together."

"Your historical record is not encouraging."

Sasuke made another note.

"Did you mark me wrong?"

"Possibly."

"Sasuke Uchiha, if you fail me because I refuse to cook for you after you disappear, this wedding is going to have a homicide before it has a bride."

"Threatening the clan head is probably addressed later."

"Good. Put me down as experienced."

By the time Sasuke reached the question concerning public dishonor, Sakura had become openly hostile toward several generations of his ancestors.

"If your husband behaves in a manner that brings embarrassment upon the clan during a public gathering, should you correct him publicly or privately?"

"Publicly."

"Wrong."

"For you, publicly."

"The recommended answer is privately."

"Then your ancestors clearly never met you."

"The purpose is to preserve the dignity of the clan head."

"The purpose of marriage is not to provide you with diplomatic immunity from your own stupidity."

Sasuke lowered the page. "What exactly are you imagining I'm going to do at these public gatherings?"

"I don't know yet, but I want my options open."

"Privately is the correct answer."

"Publicly."

"Wrong."

"Publicly, with witnesses."

"Sakura."

"Possibly diagrams."

He stared at her.

She smiled innocently.

Sasuke made another note.

"Stop writing things!"

The next question nearly ended the interview altogether.

Sasuke had barely begun reading when Sakura noticed the slight tightening around his eyes and immediately knew the ancient Uchiha had once again produced something magnificent.

"If the clan head becomes intoxicated during a formal celebration and conducts himself without appropriate dignity, what action should his spouse take?"

Sakura did not hesitate. "Draw eyebrows on him."

Sasuke slowly lowered the paper. She maintained an expression of perfect seriousness.

"That's not one of the options."

"It should be."

"Escort him home, request assistance from another senior clan member, withdraw from the gathering, or remain nearby until he regains composure."

"None of those involve ink."

"No."

"Then the system is flawed."

"Sakura."

"I want my answer formally recorded."

"I'm not writing that."

"Please write, 'Candidate will draw extremely thick eyebrows on intoxicated clan head.'"

"You fail."

Sakura's mouth fell open. "You cannot fail me for innovation."

"It's not innovation."

"It's a practical solution."

"To what problem?"

"Your lack of eyebrows."

"I have eyebrows."

"Not after enough sake."

Sasuke stared at her with such profound disbelief that Sakura finally dissolved into laughter, bending forward until her forehead nearly touched the table while he sat opposite her with the expression of a man who had discovered, several centuries too late, exactly why his ancestors had believed prospective spouses required screening.

When Sakura eventually recovered enough to breathe normally again, she wiped beneath one eye and looked at him. "You proposed to this, by the way."

"I'm reconsidering."

"No, you're not."

"No."

The answer came so naturally that Sakura's laughter softened into a smile. Unfortunately for Sasuke, she recovered almost immediately.

"Good, because I already bought the ink."

He closed his eyes.

The questions only became worse from there, and by the time they reached the section concerning marital disagreements, Sakura had accused the ancient Uchiha of patriarchal bias, poor questionnaire design, insufficient contingency planning and what she described as "an alarming obsession with preserving the husband's dignity despite providing no evidence that he deserves any."

Sasuke, who had begun the evening insisting the interview was meaningless, had somehow become personally invested in defending the accuracy of the answer key.

"If husband and wife disagree on a household matter and neither party is willing to yield, who possesses final authority?" he read.

"The wife."

"No."

"The more qualified person."

"That's not an option."

"It should be."

"The clan head has final authority."

Sakura stared at him for so long that Sasuke eventually lowered the page.

"What?"

"Who wrote this?"

"I don't know."

"A man?"

"Probably."

"Then I would like to appeal."

"To whom?"

Sakura gestured around the room. "Apparently you. You're the entire Uchiha government now."

Despite himself, Sasuke's mouth twitched.

Sakura immediately pointed at him. "You know I'm right."

"I know you're impossible."

"Write that down beside 'future matriarch of the Uchiha clan.'"

His brush stopped.

The words had been meant as another joke, tossed carelessly into the endless stream of nonsense that had occupied their evening, but the title settled between them differently from everything that had come before it, and Sakura saw the moment Sasuke's amusement receded beneath something quieter.

Future matriarch of the Uchiha clan.

Sakura's gaze dropped briefly to the crest printed at the top of the page.

For Sasuke, those words had once described his mother.

Someday, they would describe her. Neither of them said anything about that. Sasuke simply lowered his brush and wrote something beside the question.

Sakura leaned forward.

He immediately covered the page.

"What did you write?"

"Nothing."

"You wrote something."

"Next question."

"Sasuke."

"Next."

She reluctantly allowed him to continue, although her curiosity remained firmly fixed on the hidden note.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of Sakura systematically proving herself unsuitable according to what she estimated to be at least forty percent of traditional Uchiha marital standards, they reached the final section, and the change in tone was immediate enough that even she stopped making jokes.

There were no suggested answers anymore.

The questions were shorter, written in older characters, and Sasuke took more time reading each one before translating it aloud.

"If the clan loses its wealth, will you remain?"

Sakura's answer came easily. "Of course."

"If the clan loses its standing within the village, will you remain?"

"Yes."

"If your husband ceases to hold the position of clan head, will you remain?"

She looked at him rather than the page. "Yes."

Sasuke marked each response before moving to the next, but his voice had lost the dry irritation that had accompanied most of the interview, and Sakura could see that these questions, unlike the absurd rules about meals and public dignity, were reaching something much older and more vulnerable inside him.

"If the clan rejects you, will you remain?"

Sakura did not answer immediately.

Instead, she considered him for a moment before asking, "Would you?"

His brow furrowed.

"If they were alive," she explained softly, "and your family rejected me, and choosing me meant disappointing them, would you still choose me?"

The question was not written anywhere on the page, but Sasuke did not need to think about his answer.

"Yes."

Sakura smiled.

"Then yes."

His gaze remained on her for a moment longer before dropping to the final line.

He read it once.

Then again.

Sakura waited until she noticed that his fingers had tightened slightly around the brush.

"What does it say?"

Sasuke lifted his eyes.

"If he loses the Uchiha name, will you still choose the man?"

The question was so simple that for a moment Sakura could not reconcile it with everything that had come before it, with all the rules concerning clan standing and household duties and the preservation of a family name that had once carried enormous power throughout Konoha, but then she looked at Sasuke and understood why he had become so still.

The Uchiha name was almost everything he had left of them. His parents, his brother, his childhood home, the people whose voices existed now only in memory, the history that had shaped him long before Sakura had understood what loss could do to a person; all of it had been compressed into a name Sasuke had spent half his life simultaneously loving, resenting, protecting and carrying.

Sakura reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

"I chose the man before you ever offered me the name."

Sasuke said nothing, but his eyes remained on hers.

"I loved you when being an Uchiha meant nothing to me except that ridiculous fan on the back of your shirt and the fact that every girl in the Academy thought you were pretty. I loved you when you had nothing to give me, when you didn't want to give me anything, and unfortunately I continued loving you through several years in which your greatest contribution to my emotional wellbeing was probably chronic stress."

"You were doing well until that part."

"I'm still being romantic."

"You're insulting me."

"I contain multitudes."

His thumb moved almost absently beneath her hand, brushing once against her skin, and Sakura smiled before squeezing his fingers.

"If you lost the name tomorrow, I would still choose you. If you lost the compound, I would still choose you. If every Uchiha record disappeared and nobody remembered what that fan meant anymore, I would still choose you."

She paused thoughtfully.

"If you grow a terrible mustache when you're forty, however, I reserve the right to reopen negotiations."

Sasuke withdrew his hand. Sakura laughed.

"That was a serious question."

"And I gave you a serious answer."

"You ruined it."

"I protected us from becoming emotionally overwhelmed."

"We were fine."

"You were one heartfelt sentence away from developing a feeling."

He rolled the scroll closed.

Sakura's eyes widened. "Wait."

"We're done."

"Did I pass?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It absolutely matters."

"We're already getting married."

"That is not how examinations work."

"It wasn't an examination."

"You had an answer key!"

Sasuke began collecting the papers.

Sakura leaned across the table. "What was my result?"

"There is no result."

"You've been writing comments for an hour."

"They were observations."

"I want to see them."

"No."

The speed of his refusal told Sakura everything she needed to know.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Sasuke."

"No."

"Give me the paper."

"No."

"I am entitled to my own records."

"You are not."

"I work in a hospital. I know my rights."

"This isn't a hospital."

"It's my assessment."

"It's clan property."

"I'm apparently the future matriarch."

"Apparently."

Sakura lunged for the page. Sasuke lifted it out of reach.

What followed possessed none of the dignity expected of the head of one of Konoha's oldest clans or the woman preparing to become its matriarch, because within seconds Sakura was kneeling on the table attempting to seize the document while Sasuke held it above his head with the unfair advantage of longer arms, both of them arguing over whether height constituted an unethical interviewing technique.

"Give it to me."

"No."

"I will break your arm."

"That would probably affect your evaluation."

"You already finished the evaluation!"

"Then it would affect the appeal."

"There is no appeal process!"

"Exactly."

Sakura stared at him.

"You invented that."

"Yes."

"You have become drunk with administrative power."

Sasuke almost smiled. That was his second mistake of the evening.

Sakura moved but Sasuke moved faster.

The chair behind him did not.

Several seconds later, one unfortunate piece of furniture had sacrificed itself to Uchiha marital tradition, Sasuke had somehow ended up against the wall, and the evaluation sheet had fallen onto the floor between them.

Sakura saw it.

Sasuke saw her see it.

She dove.

By the time he reached for her, Sakura had already rolled away with the paper clutched triumphantly against her chest.

"Victory."

"Sakura."

"Too late."

She unfolded it.

Beside her occupation, Sasuke had written, works too much.

Sakura looked up. "Hypocrite."

"Keep reading."

Beside the question about children, he had written only, two.

Something warm moved through her chest.

She continued.

Beside the public embarrassment question: will definitely correct me publicly.

"Accurate."

Beside the intoxication question: hide ink before drinking.

Sakura laughed.

Beside the question concerning marital disagreements: will never yield.

"Also accurate."

Then she reached the line beside which she had jokingly instructed him to write future matriarch of the Uchiha clan.

He had written it.

There was no sarcastic comment beside it, no correction, no indication that he had copied the words simply because she had demanded it.

Just the title.

Future matriarch of the Uchiha clan.

Sakura's smile softened.

Her eyes moved farther down the page until they reached the final question, and beneath it she found one last note written in Sasuke's unmistakable hand.

Accepted before interview began.

For several moments Sakura merely looked at the words.

Then she slowly raised her head.

"You asshole."

Sasuke blinked. "That's your response?"

"You made me sit through an hour of patriarchal interrogation when you had already passed me?"

"You insisted on doing the interview."

"You let me defend my financial independence!"

"I already knew you had it."

"You questioned my criminal history."

"You hesitated."

"That is not the point!"

"You wanted historical accuracy."

"You failed me over hypothetical eyebrows!"

"That answer remains concerning."

Sakura slapped the page against his chest. "I cannot believe I'm marrying you."

Sasuke took the paper from her with infuriating calm. "According to the compatibility assessment, withdrawal remains available until—"

"Oh, absolutely not."

He paused. Sakura stepped closer.

"You do not get rid of me after making me survive several centuries of dead Uchiha men."

"I wasn't trying to."

"You accepted me before we started?"

"Yes."

"You wrote future matriarch?"

"You told me to."

"You could have ignored me."

"I usually do."

Sakura's eyes narrowed.

Sasuke's mouth twitched again.

She pointed at him. "Say I passed."

"No."

"Sasuke."

"You already read it."

"I want to hear the clan head formally announce the result."

"This is ridiculous."

"So was the question about waiting for you in the marital chambers, but I answered it."

"You complained about it for ten minutes."

"And now I require closure."

Sasuke looked toward the ceiling with the expression of a man silently requesting assistance from every Uchiha ancestor responsible for creating the ritual, but since none of them appeared to rescue him from the consequences of their own bureaucracy, he eventually looked back at Sakura.

"You passed."

Her smile immediately became radiant.

"With distinction?"

"There's no distinction."

"Highest score?"

"You were the only candidate."

"That still makes me first."

"It also makes you last."

"Future matriarch?"

He sighed.

Sakura waited.

"Future matriarch."

She kissed him before he could regret saying it.

The kiss began with laughter still warm between them, but Sasuke's hand settled naturally around her waist and drew her closer, and Sakura's arms slipped around his neck as the ridiculousness of the evening dissolved into something softer, leaving the broken chair, scattered records and judgment of several generations of dead Uchiha entirely forgotten.

When Sakura finally drew back, she remained close enough that her forehead nearly touched his.

"I have one final question for the clan head."

Sasuke looked immediately suspicious. "What?"

"If your wife embarrasses you publicly after marriage, what is the appropriate response?"

"Divorce."

Sakura's mouth fell open.

He kissed her before she could retaliate.

When he pulled away, she was glaring.

"Wrong answer."

"What's the correct one?"

"Remain silent and accept that you chose this life."

Sasuke regarded her for several seconds, his arm still resting around her waist, before the faintest trace of amusement returned to his face.

"Hn."

Sakura smiled.

"I'll mark that as accepted."

Unfortunately for Sasuke, his humiliation did not end with the interview, because Sakura possessed neither the inclination nor, apparently, the moral capacity to keep something this entertaining from Naruto, and by eight the following morning the front door opened with enough force to announce that whatever remained of Sasuke's dignity was about to experience a second attack.

"SASUKE!"

Sasuke, who had been enjoying what until that moment had been a peaceful cup of tea, slowly closed his eyes.

Across the table, Sakura became intensely interested in her breakfast.

Naruto appeared in the kitchen carrying a notebook beneath one arm and wearing the expression of a man who had arrived for official government business.

Sasuke looked at Sakura.

She did not look back.

"I heard you're conducting marriage interviews."

"There was one interview."

"I demand one."

Sakura choked.

Sasuke stared at Naruto. "For what?"

"Best man."

"There is no best-man interview."

Naruto dropped the notebook onto the table and sat down. "There is now."

"No."

"I brought references."

"I don't care."

"Kakashi-sensei agreed to one."

"No."

"Iruka-sensei too."

"No."

"Gaara said he would write something."

Sasuke stood.

Naruto opened his notebook with complete confidence. "Fine, I'll conduct it myself. Question one: if the groom dishonors himself during a public gathering, should the best man correct him publicly or privately?"

Sakura raised her hand immediately. "Publicly."

Naruto pointed at her. "Correct!"

Sasuke walked out.

Behind him, Naruto shouted, "YOU FAILED YOUR OWN WEDDING INTERVIEW, TEME!"

Sakura's laughter followed Sasuke into the hallway, where he stopped beneath the old Uchiha crest hanging near the stairs and briefly considered every decision that had brought his life to this point.

For years he had imagined that rebuilding the Uchiha clan, if such a thing were ever possible, would be solemn work, something defined by duty, remembrance and the unbearable responsibility of carrying forward everything his family had lost; instead, apparently, the future of the Uchiha consisted of Sakura openly rejecting centuries of marital etiquette, Naruto creating unauthorized administrative procedures, at least one destroyed chair, several arguments concerning hypothetical public humiliation and a genuine risk that someone might draw eyebrows on Sasuke's face if he made the mistake of drinking too much at his own wedding.

Strangely enough, as Sakura and Naruto continued arguing in the kitchen about whether the best man should legally be permitted to challenge the groom to a fight during the reception, Sasuke found himself thinking that his mother would probably have loved every second of it.

The compatibility interview had, after all, established several things beyond reasonable doubt: Haruno Sakura was argumentative, chronically incapable of preserving his dignity, openly hostile toward patriarchal answer keys, entirely willing to threaten the clan head with bodily harm, disturbingly enthusiastic about hypothetical facial vandalism and completely unsuitable according to a significant portion of traditional Uchiha expectations.

Fortunately for both of them, Sasuke had chosen her long before anyone remembered to ask the questions.