Chapter Text
The air in the tea house tasted of roasted matcha and sweet bean paste. It was a warm afternoon, and the mild sunlight fell through the wide-open shoji sliding doors, casting geometric shadows on the flawless tatami mats and bathing the room in a golden glow.
Sasuke sat silently next to his mother, Mikoto, at one of the low wooden tables in the back, quieter part of the establishment. While Mikoto held her teacup with both hands with an elegant, almost weightless grace and took a small sip, Sasuke rested his chin on his hand and looked at the hustle and bustle in the room with an expression of complete indifference. At least on the outside.
He had accompanied his mother on this outing—a social duty that, as the son of one of the city's most respected samurai families, he couldn't simply refuse—but in his mind, he was already on the training grounds. He felt the imaginary weight of the bokken, the wooden sword, in his hands and fervently hoped this visit would end soon so he could have an hour or two to himself before his father overwhelmed him with lessons on family duties and administration again.
He sighed softly, barely audibly, but Mikoto's dark eyes slid over to him in amusement. She said nothing, but her gentle smile betrayed that she saw right through his impatience. Sasuke looked away and gazed out into the small, carefully tended rock garden.
Then a voice broke the muffled, refined quiet of the tea house.
"What do you think you're doing, you useless woman?!"
The sudden loudness made some of the guests flinch. Sasuke turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. A few steps away from their table sat an older man whose expensive but ill-fitting silk kimono marked him as a wealthy merchant or perhaps a low-ranking samurai. His face was red with anger, the veins on his neck sticking out clearly.
In front of him, kneeling on the floor, was a young girl. She wore a simple, indigo-blue cotton kimono that looked clean, but almost poor compared to the guests' robes. Her head was bowed low, her hands resting flat on the tatami mats as she remained in a deep, submissive bow.
"Mōshiwake arimasen, Danna-sama," the girl's voice reached Sasuke's ears, trembling but desperately controlled.
"Please forgive me. It wasn't my intention to serve the tea too cool. I will pour a new one right away."
"Pour a new one?!" roared the man, slamming his flat hand so hard on the wooden table that the teacups on it jingled dangerously.
"You think I'll drink another drop of the poison you're pouring here? Look at yourself! What is this demonic appearance? Do you want to bring bad luck to this house?"
Sasuke narrowed his eyes. Only now, as the man pointed at her shouting, did he notice the girl's hair. It wasn't black or brown, as was the case with every other person in Edo. It was red. A deep, glowing red that reminded him of autumn leaves or glowing coals. It was tied up in a neat bun, but the sheer amount and thickness of the hair made it look almost wild.
"You can't even serve proper tea!" the old man raged on, leaning over her threateningly.
"You should have been abandoned at birth! Such hair... such eyes! You're an Oni, a demon in human form! No decent family would ever allow a freak like you to serve them food. Who even allowed you to walk among normal people? Because of people like you, harvests are ruined and businesses wrecked!"
Narina kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the wood of the floor. Her delicate shoulders twitched with every loud word, and her fingers, clutching the coarse fabric of her kimono, trembled visibly.
Don't cry, she kept telling herself in her mind. Smile. Apologize. Don't bring shame to Mother. Don't lose this job. She knew words like this. She had heard them her whole life.
"Witch"
"Demon"
"Bringer of bad luck"
And yet every single word burned like a glowing iron on her skin. She wanted to jump up. She wanted to overturn the table, throw the tea leaves in his face, and scream at the top of her lungs that he was an unbearable, bitter old fool. Her true nature—loud, wild, and full of temperament—raged in her chest like a caged animal. But she swallowed the words down, pushed them deep into her stomach, and forced herself to sink even lower into the bow.
"I ask for your deepest forgiveness," she repeated monotonously, her voice little more than a whisper. "Please, let me make up for my mistake."
The other guests in the tea house looked away awkwardly. Some whispered behind their hands, others stared stubbornly into their bowls and acted as if the scene didn't exist. No one intervened. No one raised their voice against the man who clearly possessed money and influence. In this society, you didn't go against elders or superiors, especially not for a simple maid.
Sasuke felt his fingers close more tightly around the rough ceramic of his teacup. An unpleasant pressure built up in his chest. He hated injustice. He hated when people used their position to trample on those who couldn't defend themselves. His jaw muscles tightened.
As Narina straightened up a tiny bit and reached out her hand to clear the tray, the man finally lost his temper.
"Don't touch my things with your unholy hands!" he hissed.
With a brutal, sweeping motion, he swept the tray off the table. The heavy ceramic teacup flew through the air, hit the wooden edge of the platform, and shattered with a loud, ugly crash into dozens of sharp shards on the floor. The hot tea splashed across the tatami mats and hit Narina's knees.
She gasped softly, flinching back, but the hard-working employee's instinct was faster than her pain. Without thinking, she immediately dropped to her knees and began with hasty, erratic movements to pick up the sharp porcelain shards before anyone could step on them.
Her hand was shaking so badly that it was inevitable. A particularly sharp shard slipped through her fingers, and the sharp edge cut deep into her palm.
Narina clenched her teeth. A quiet hiss escaped her lips as a thick, red drop of blood welled from the wound. Within seconds, a thin, shiny streak of blood stretched across her fair skin, dripped down, and mixed with the spilled green tea on the floor.
"Heavens, what is going on here?!" called an excited voice. Chiyo, one of the older employees of the tea house, hurried over with small, scurrying steps. She was a woman in her early fifties, her hair already streaked with gray, and her back was slightly bent from decades of work. Her eyes were framed by deep worry lines, but they always radiated warmth.
"Please, honorable guest, calm down," Chiyo immediately placated, stepping protectively in front of Narina while bowing almost at a right angle.
"The girl is young and sometimes still clumsy. I will personally cover the damage. Please accept this humble apology."
"Shut up, old woman!" the man snapped at her ruthlessly. "Your establishment has lost its good reputation if you hire such scum from the street! This is the last time I set foot in here. Keep your trash!"
He grabbed his walking stick, tossed a few copper coins carelessly onto the floor—far too little for what he had ordered, let alone broken—and stormed out of the tea house with loud, stomping steps.
A heavy silence settled over the room. Only the quiet chirping of cicadas from outside could be heard.
Sasuke sat rigidly. His eyes were fixed on the girl. She was still kneeling there. The shattered remains of the bowl lay in her lap, her left hand pressed tightly against her chest to stop the blood. She wasn't crying. Her face was turned away, hidden behind curtains of crimson hair, but Sasuke saw how fast her chest rose and fell.
She was fighting the tears with all her might. She refused to show weakness in front of these people who had just watched her suffer in silence.
Chiyo knelt beside her with a sigh. "Oh, Narina-chan..." the older woman whispered with deep pity.
She pulled a clean cotton cloth from her obi and wrapped it carefully but firmly around the girl's bleeding hand.
"Come on, let me wipe this up. Go to the back for a moment and catch your breath."
Narina shook her head almost imperceptibly. She wiped her face with her uninjured sleeve, breathed in deeply, almost painfully audibly, and stood up. When she turned around to take the remaining shards away, she forced a small, professional smile. It didn't reach her eyes—eyes that shone in such an impossibly clear, piercing blue as Sasuke had never seen in a human being.
Sasuke followed her every move until she disappeared behind the kitchen curtain. His hand only let go of his teacup when he felt his knuckles aching.
"Mother" Sasuke finally broke the silence at their table quietly. His voice sounded calm, but Mikoto knew the suppressed anger in her son all too well.
"Why didn't anyone say anything? That man was in the wrong." Mikoto put her cup down gently and directed her gaze toward the curtain behind which the girl had disappeared. An expression of quiet regret lay on her fine features.
"The man was older, Sasuke. And he apparently possessed a certain social rank" she explained in a gentle but serious voice.
"In our society, that unfortunately often means you don't contradict him. Many people fear they will get into trouble themselves or draw the wrath of such a man onto their own families if they stand up to him." She looked Sasuke straight in the eyes.
"That doesn't make his behavior right. Not at all. But it explains the silence of the others."
Sasuke pressed his lips together. "I should have said something."
"If you had interfered as the young heir of the Uchiha, you would have humiliated the man in front of all the guests. He would have lost face. And who do you think he would have taken revenge on later? You? No, we are too powerful for that. He would have taken all his anger out on the tea house and on this poor girl." Mikoto placed a hand on Sasuke's arm.
"Sometimes an open blade does more harm than it protects. True strength also means knowing when you have to remain silent so as not to put the weaker ones in even more danger."
Sasuke was silent. He knew his mother was right. That was the way the world worked. But it felt wrong. It felt like cowardice.
"Her hair" he said finally to change the subject, even though he couldn't tear his eyes away from the kitchen curtain.
"I've never seen anyone with hair like that. It was..." He hesitated. Beautiful, he wanted to say, but he swallowed the word. "...unusual."
Mikoto followed his gaze. "Red hair is very, very unusual in Japan," she agreed quietly. "It often attracts superstition and fear, as you just saw. People fear what they don't understand. But a long time ago, before Edo became so peaceful, there were families known precisely for this red hair. Perhaps she descends from a distant line of the Uzumaki. They were a strong, proud clan. However, it's impossible to know without her exact origins."
Uzumaki. Sasuke let the name circle in his head. He thought about it. However, his thoughts didn't linger particularly long on Japanese history, possible clan lineages, or samurai legends. His brain, usually so sharp and analytical, suddenly took a completely different, almost embarrassingly childish direction.
Red, he thought.
When he thought of the color red, Sasuke usually thought of tomatoes.
He loves tomatoes.
They were his absolute favorite food, whether freshly sliced, in a soup, or dried. And as he thought of this girl's hair—this bright, shining, silky hair that almost seemed to move in the light—he inevitably had to think of a perfect, sun-ripened tomato. It wasn't a dull, dry red. It was full, vibrant, and somehow attractive.
He wondered if it felt just as soft as it looked.
Sasuke blinked and shook his head almost imperceptibly, as if trying to banish this ridiculous thought from his mind.
What kind of nonsense am I thinking? he scolded himself internally. I'm comparing a girl's hair to my dinner. Itachi would laugh at me if he knew.
A few minutes passed in which the muffled atmosphere in the tea house slowly returned to normal. Then the curtain parted again.
Narina stepped out. She carried a new tray, held her back extremely straight, and had put her polite, reserved smile back on like a mask. She had skillfully positioned her injured hand under the tray so the makeshift bandage was barely visible. She looked calm, but as she approached their table, Sasuke noticed the slight tension in her shoulders.
"Please forgive the inconvenience from earlier" she said with a deep, flawless bow as she stepped up to the Uchiha table. Her voice was gentle and melodious, without the slightest tremor.
"I am endlessly sorry that your peace was disturbed. May I bring you something else to make up for the inconvenience?" Mikoto smiled at her warmly and reassuringly.
"You don't need to apologize, dear. That wasn't your fault. We would like another bowl of your fine sencha and maybe some of the sweet mochi."
"Very well, my lady. I will bring it right away."
As Narina leaned forward slightly to take the empty bowls from the table, her left sleeve slid back a bit. Sasuke looked at her without openly staring. From up close, he truly noticed for the first time how dainty and almost fragile she looked. She couldn't be much older than himself.
Sixteen, at most. Her skin was pale, almost like porcelain, and formed a breathtaking contrast to her hair.
Then his gaze fell on her hand. The white cloth the older woman had wrapped around her wasn't thick enough. A dark, wet, red stain had already eaten through the material and was slowly seeping further outward.
"Your hand is still bleeding," Sasuke said. The words left his lips before he could think about whether it was appropriate to address her. His tone was calm, but serious, almost demanding.
Narina stopped mid-movement. Her blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second. She seemed completely taken aback that he hadn't just looked, but had actually spoken about it. Most guests completely ignored employees as long as they functioned.
Hastily, she pulled her hand back and hid it in the wide sleeve of her kimono.
"It's nothing. I offer my deepest apologies, sir. It won't happen again." Again that bow. Again that apologizing.
Sasuke frowned deeply. A feeling of irritation rose in him—not against her, but against the way she behaved. Why was she making herself smaller than she was?
"Stop apologizing," he said, and his voice was a shade harsher than he had intended.
"You didn't do anything wrong. Neither earlier with that rude jerk, nor now. And you should get that properly treated and cleaned. A dirty rag isn't enough, or it will get infected, and then you won't be able to work at all."
Narina froze. She jerked her head up and looked at him. For the first time since the incident, her face lost its professional, untouchable composure. The veil of politeness fell, and for a single, fleeting moment, Sasuke saw the real Narina: surprised, vulnerable, and unimaginably tired.
Her eyes met his dark ones. And Sasuke's breath caught. He had never seen eyes like that. They weren't just simply blue. They reminded him of the ice of a frozen mountain lake on a clear winter day, but with a hidden fire underneath that refused to be extinguished. She looked at him as if he had just spoken a foreign language. She looked not only surprised, but almost shaken, as if in all the years she had worked in this tea house, no one had ever said anything so fundamentally human and matter-of-fact to her.
Time seemed to stand still for a heartbeat. Sasuke felt his heart beat a little faster inexplicably as he looked into those unbelievable eyes.
Then she broke the eye contact. She blinked hastily, lowered her gaze, and the polite, impenetrable mask slid back into place. But a delicate, pinkish shimmer had settled on her cheeks.
"You are very kind, sir," she whispered softly.
"I thank you for your care." With one last, hasty bow, she turned around and walked at a quick pace back to the counter.
Sasuke watched her go. He didn't know exactly what had just happened, but he felt an unusual tug in the pit of his stomach.
Mikoto noticed her son's intense gaze. She drank her tea in silence and said not a word, but a tiny, knowing smile played around her lips. She knew her son. Sasuke was never interested in girls. They ran after him in droves, admired his appearance and the status of the Uchiha, but he mostly punished them with icy disinterest. That this red-haired girl had captured his attention so much did not escape Mikoto.
When Narina brought the new tea a little later, she avoided Sasuke's gaze. She worked quickly, flawlessly, and silently.
When Sasuke took his new teacup in hand and took a sip, he realized he couldn't concentrate on the fine taste of the matcha at all anymore.
His thoughts were circling incessantly. He wanted to know what her name was. He wanted to know why she wore this constant apologizing like a shield. And above all, she wanted to know what her eyes looked like when she wasn't sad or exhausted. When she was genuinely smiling.
(≧◡≦)
An hour later, Mikoto and Sasuke started on their way home. Mikoto left a generous tip on the table—more than enough to pay for the broken cup three times over and leave a little cushion for the girl.
As they stepped out of the cool shadows of the tea house onto the sun-drenched street, Sasuke's gaze fell on something on the ground. Right next to the wooden steps, half hidden in the fine dust of the street, lay a small object.
He bent down and picked it up. It was a simple wooden hair comb. It wasn't expensive, possessed no elaborate carvings, but on top it was coated with a subtle layer of red lacquer.
Red. Sasuke immediately knew whose it was. She must have lost it, perhaps when she had taken the trash or the shards outside earlier.
He turned the comb in his hands. His fingers glided over the smooth wood. He turned around and was about to go back up the steps to return the comb to her. But as he peeked through the open door, he saw Narina being ordered back and forth by two other guests, heavily loaded with trays. She looked stressed, her face was pale, and beads of sweat stood on her forehead. If he interrupted her at work now, he might bring her even more trouble.
"Are you coming, Sasuke?" Mikoto called out gently, having already walked a few steps ahead.
"Yes, Mother," he answered.
He let the comb slide quietly into the wide pocket of his sleeve. He would keep it. Just for now.
(*°▽°*)
Evening descended over Edo. The sky glowed in deep violet and orange tones, and the heat of the day gave way to a pleasant, cool breeze.
Sasuke had spent the rest of the afternoon with sword training, but no matter how hard he struck or how much he concentrated, the image of the blue eyes and the red hair hadn't let him go. Finally, he had put his bokken aside, put on fresh clothes—a dark, flawless yukata made of fine cotton—and left the Uchiha estate under the pretext of a walk.
His feet carried him almost by themselves through the evening streets until he stood before the tea house again.
It was already closed. The heavy wooden amado, the shutters, had mostly been pushed into place already. Only the light of a single lantern still burned at the front.
Sasuke stood in the shadows and observed the scene.
Narina stood in front of the shop. She had pulled her obi a bit tighter and was currently pushing the last heavy wooden panel into the track with visible effort to lock the tea house for the night. In the soft light of the lantern, her hair looked darker, almost like liquid copper.
She wasn't alone.
"Nee-chan! Hurry up, I'm hungry!" called a bright, demanding child's voice.
Sasuke blinked in surprise. Two small children, a girl and a boy, sat on the wooden veranda of the neighboring house and dangled their legs. They looked like twins. Both had dark blonde hair and big, dark eyes. They wore simple cotton kimonos, and the boy had a thick speck of dust on his cheek.
"I'm almost done, Madako" Narina replied patiently as she attached the padlock. Her voice sounded exhausted, but full of affection.
"Did you have a good day at school? Was Nori well-behaved?"
"Nori splashed ink on my kimono!" the little girl, Madako, immediately complained, crossing her arms indignantly in front of her chest.
"That was an accident!" Nori called out immediately and jumped up.
"You bumped into me!"
"Not true!"
"It is!"
Narina sighed softly, turned around to them, and smiled. It was a completely different smile than the one she gave the guests. It was genuine.
Warm, radiant, and full of love.
Sasuke's breath caught. When she smiled like that, her whole face changed. Suddenly, she no longer looked like an oppressed employee, but like a young, lively girl whose true beauty was now truly coming into its own.
"Don't argue," Narina said gently, stepping up to the two of them to wipe the dust off Nori's cheek.
"Mother will scold us anyway if we're too late for dinner. Come on, let's go." Sasuke cleared his throat softly and stepped out of the shadow of the lantern.
Narina whirled around. An expression of fright flashed across her face, which, however, turned into complete confusion when she recognized him. She stared at the tall, elegant young man in the expensive dark yukata. His black hair fell slightly into his face, and his dark eyes rested calmly on her.
"Sir...?" she breathed. Immediately her instinct kicked in. She took a step back and bowed deeply.
"What are you doing here? The tea house is unfortunately already closed. If you wish for something, you must come back tomorrow morning..."
"I'm not here for the tea," Sasuke interrupted her calmly. He stepped closer, and with every step Narina seemed to grow more nervous. He stopped at a reasonable distance and reached into the sleeve of his yukata.
"You lost this this afternoon." He held out his hand. Resting on his palm was the small wooden comb with the red lacquer.
Narina's eyes widened. Her hand flew unconsciously to her hair bun. Sure enough, a few loose red strands fell into her face where the comb had previously provided hold. A deep, honest blush covered her cheeks. She took a cautious step forward and took the comb from his hand. Her fingertips briefly brushed his skin in the process, and both flinched minimally at the fleeting touch.
"I... I thank you very much" she stammered, visibly thrown off balance.
"You didn't have to go through the trouble of returning specially, honorable sir. I am deeply in your debt."
"Again with the apologies and thanks," Sasuke said with a slight, dry sigh. His tone wasn't mocking, more a mixture of annoyed and fascinated.
"It was no trouble," Sasuke lied smoothly, even though he had already made his way halfway across town. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her.
"What is your name, by the way?" Narina looked up in surprise.
"My name? I am Narina, sir. Narina Namikaze."
"Narina." He spoke the name slowly, as if testing the sound on his tongue. It suited her. A soft yet strong name.
"I am Sasuke." He deliberately omitted his surname; the weight of the Uchiha name would only be a hindrance here.
Before he could say anything else, he felt a tug at his yukata. He looked down at himself. Little Madako stood in front of him, her head tilted back, staring up at him with big, critical eyes. Nori had hidden halfway behind Narina's leg and peeked out suspiciously.
"Nee-chan?" Madako asked loudly, pointing a finger directly at Sasuke.
"Is this your husband?"
A deafening silence fell over the small street.
Sasuke stared at the little girl, completely nonplussed. He, who always had a quick-witted word on his lips, was speechless.
Narina's face took on the color of her hair within a second. She gasped for air, her eyes almost popping out of her sockets.
"M-M-Madako!" Narina squeaked, and her polite, controlled voice completely broke down. Suddenly she sounded loud, shrill, and wonderfully unpolished. She grabbed the little girl panicky by the shoulders and pulled her away from Sasuke.
"What kind of nonsense are you saying?! A-are you crazy? M-mōshiwake arimasen, Sasuke-san! Please forgive my insolent sister! She's only six! She doesn't know what she's talking about!"
Narina bowed so fast and deep one after another that Sasuke feared she would topple forward. She was a walking, red bundle of panic.
Nori stepped next to his sister and crossed his arms.
"He's too pretty for a man," the six-year-old stated dryly. "I bet he can't even hold a sword."
"Nori!!" Narina shrieked almost, now grabbing the boy too and pressing both hands over his mouth.
"Forgive him! He has no manners! He's an idiot!" She looked up at Sasuke with her big, blue eyes, in which pure, naked despair stood.
"Please don't execute us, Sasuke-sama!"
Sasuke stood there while the cool evening breeze blew through the street. He looked at the completely overwhelmed girl with the bright red hair trying to silence her two unruly siblings. He thought of his family's strict, stiff estate. Of his strict father. Of the constant boredom.
And then something happened that surprised Sasuke the most himself.
He laughed.
It wasn't a loud, roaring laugh, but an honest, deep, and amused chuckle that made his chest vibrate. His eyes shone, and the cold, unapproachable demeanor that usually surrounded him melted completely.
Narina stopped mid-movement and stared at him. Nori and Madako blinked at him as well.
"Your brother is right," Sasuke said finally, a dry, slightly arrogant, but warm smile playing on his lips. He looked Nori in the eyes.
"I really am quite pretty. But I assure you, I hold my sword better than anyone else." He directed his gaze back to Narina. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that smile. It stole her breath for a second.
"Watch your comb, Narina Namikaze," Sasuke said softly. He turned around and walked slowly down the street, back toward the Uchiha district.
He didn't know where all of this would lead. He only knew that Edo suddenly wasn't quite so boring anymore. And that starting today, red was his absolute favorite color.