By: Morbid Alex (Karasu8)
A/N: Meow. Heh, this is a random, spur-of-the-moment idea. I realized, once again, how few fanfictions are out there that mention Fugaku and Mikoto. Don't know who they are? That's really...sad. Heh. I even made an introduction for them. They're Itachi and Sasuke's parents. But anyway, enjoy the raw, unBETAed first chapter of Meeting, Marrying. Read and review, 'kay?
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters, but I do own the plot and the fanfiction. I make no money off of this - don't sue me.
"And that's final, Mikoto."
Her eyes stung - tears springing forth and threatening to spill over. Mikoto turned away from her father, purposely avoiding her mother's gaze as she did so. I was shameful for a shinobi to cry, she knew, but there was no stopping it this time. It just...wasn't fair.
Her father was starting up again, talking about frivolous things she could hardly bring herself to care for. There was something on being a lady, how important marriages in the clan were, and then another something about the head family. All he was doing, in her opinion, was wasting his breath. She chewed on her bottom lip, ignoring him. Kami, she wished that her mother would cut in - just this once. She wanted her mother to tell her father to stop spouting such nonsense and let it go - she didn't want any of this and it was just rediculous.
" - listening to me, Mikoto?"
Her eyes, still glistening, snapped to the room's closest exit. She didn't answer him. Quite frankly, she found that with each word he said, things that were talked about meant less and less to her. Not a word he spoke held any value anymore. it was as if he was speaking in a language she couldn't understand. There were words, but only a few held any significance.
The sound of her father standing, giving up, caught her attention. Mikoto wouldn't look up at him, but watched what she could of him as he walked by, and then out. Her mother followed, sparing her a single, troubled, glance. She didn't want to turn out like that. Mikoto was a Konoha ninja, not some man's pet like her mother seemed to be. You see, Mikoto had it all figured out. Her mother acted like some twisted form of a pet sometimes. Anything the master says, the pet obeys. Whatever her father wants and asks for, her mother hurries to go and get it. She listens to him and obeys him more than she does her own child!
She stood herself, waiting until her parents' movements couldn't be heard any longer. Her gray-black orbs darted back and forth, searching the room, then the hall. They had either retired early, had moved to the kitchen for tea, or had gone out. It didn't matter which, and she had no intention of finding out.
So, out Mikoto went. She slipped on her favorite navy sandals and trudged out the door. It was winter, and a bit chilly, but thankfully, there hadn't been any snow so far this year. The farther away she could get, the more time she'd have to clear her head and to think.
It'd been almost four hours since Mikoto had left the house. For the most part, she was beginning to regret it. The wind was a little too cool for her tastes, and the hard, frozen earth beneath her feet was starting to make her legs hurt. Her teeth chattered and she couldn't her the shivering. Her kimono, done in various pale shades of purples and creams, was too thin for the weather. It was made of silk, and she wished she had decided to change when she had had the chance. At least that way, she wouldn't be as cold as she was now.
"Are you cold?"
Mikoto froze. It was't the question that's startled her, but the warm body she'd run into. Her onyx gaze widened some, and she looked up. A man, not too much older than herself, she assumed, was standing just inches from her. He had an icy exterior of someone twice his age who had seen far too much death in one lifetime. A frown marred his expression too. Not even the slightest hint of sympathy or amusement could be found in his face. Mikoto couldn't help but stare.
"Hey," he started again, porbably uncomfortable with her watching him the way she was. "Didn't you hear me...?"
An immediate flush of cimrson spread to her face. She dropped her eyes and nodded. This young man held power, she knew by just listening to him, but couldn't name him to save her life. Why, she'd give a kunai to -
"What in the world's a girl like you doing out here dressed like that?"
A coat was gently, much to her surprise, wrapped around her shoulders. Then, he moved to pick her up, and he did so with very little effort, holding her to his chest. Mikoto's blush intensified, a nervousness swelling in her stomach.
"I-I can walk, you know!" It came out nearly in an admonished squeak, much to Mikoto's embarrassment. He watched her carefully, but didn't put her down.
"What's your name? I'll take you home."
The youthful girl found herself interested in the way his chest rumbled when he spoke. He could command tons of shinobi with that voice, she decided. Perhaps, in a few years, he'd lead some strong team on special missions or something?
"Uchiha Mikoto," she murmured, eyes trailing upwards to get a better look at his face. What she saw after speaking wasn't the coldness from before, well, not as much, but a mixture of astonishment and confusion. Why, though? All she had done was offer him her name. Was it because she was an Uchiha? Did she not look like an Uchiha? Was there something on her face? Curiousity bubbled up inside her, and her heart began to pound loudly against her ribs. A long silence followed it, and she was certain he could hear her nervous heart.
"I see..." He spoke finally, and Mikoto was grateful for the words; she felt relieved. It had been getting dreadfully quiet. What had taken him so long? It was only her name, for crying out loud - a name.
It wasn't until he continued that the young man shook her completely from her thoughts, and gained her undivided attention. And, no doubt, she saw amusement flicker across that cold face as her own suddenly drained itself of color.
"I didn't think we'd meet like this. I'm Uchiha Fugaku, and in a few months, I'll be your husband."
The poor girl's heart forgot about pounding, and began to do somersaults. Her throat felt dry, swallowing carefully, and she heard him laugh for the first time - at the astonishment written all over her expression.