"What is hidden from the eye may be clearest to the soul."
The forest before the capital was a strange one. The trees were pale and tall, with bark the color of faded parchment and twisted limbs that reached for the road like begging hands. Beneath their roots, snow clung to the rocks though spring had already begun to touch the northern hills. Mist drifted across the trail in quiet ribbons, disturbed only by the passage of a sleek black carriage flanked by mounted guards.
Inside, Prince Sasuke Uchiha sat in silence, gazing out the narrow window with unreadable eyes.
He had been traveling for over two weeks.
Two weeks of stilted formal stops, royal outposts, polite questions and masked curiosity—until finally, now, the red-stone towers of Uzumaki Castle began to rise beyond the treeline like the jagged spires of a forgotten cathedral. It was beautiful. But it was not welcoming.
Sasuke didn't adjust his posture. His spine had been straight since the moment the gates of his home kingdom disappeared behind him. One hand rested loosely on his lap, gloved in thin black leather, and the other supported his chin as he watched the cold landscape unfold.
There were no birds in the trees. No merchants on the road. Not even the whisper of wind.
Everything felt... curated.
"They call this stretch the White Reach, " said one of the guards beside the carriage, riding close enough for his voice to carry through the slit window. "The trees here were once used for bow-wood, until the soil turned sour. Now they just stand like that."
Sasuke gave no reply. But his eyes lingered on the treetops a moment longer.
Dead wood.
Beautiful, but dead.
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
The gates of Uzumaki Castle opened without sound, their intricate golden latticework glinting as the procession entered the wide courtyard beyond. Banners the color of deep wine hung from the ramparts—stitched with the golden spiral crest of the Uzumaki line. Crimson stone underfoot, polished until it reflected the sky like water. On the far side of the courtyard, dozens of guards in formal attire stood flanking a long stairway.
At the top, a small group waited to receive him.
Sasuke stepped down from the carriage without needing assistance, the hem of his long black robes brushing the cold stone. Silver thread embroidered the edges of his collar and sleeves, matching the subtle rings in his hair ornaments. His dark hair was half-bound, leaving wisps to frame the clean planes of his face.
He was an omega—but there was nothing delicate about his presence.
He moved with a kind of controlled gravity, each step measured but confident, until he stood before the gathered royalty.
The woman in the center wore a mantle of velvet red and shoulder-spanning gold embroidery that marked her as queen. Her hair, brilliant auburn, was pulled into a high knot, and her eyes were sharp and bright like lit coals. She smiled, but it was not a soft smile. It was the kind that expected silence when she entered a room.
Queen Kushina.
To her left stood a young man with a square jaw, amber-red hair swept back from his face, and a soldier's build. He wore no jewelry, only a simple sword strapped to his back. His eyes—also red—were coldly assessing. He looked like someone who had no time for ceremony but knew it was his duty.
Prince Renmaru. The eldest son. An alpha.
To the queen's right: a vision in layered silks and silver combs. Princess Ayaka was smaller than her brother, but carried herself like someone who had never heard the word no. She was poised, lovely, and vaguely amused—as if the entire event was a private joke only she was clever enough to understand.
Also an alpha. It registered in Sasuke's instincts almost instantly.
"Prince Sasuke Uchiha of the Northern Realm," called the herald at the base of the stairway. "Second son of Lady Mikoto, heir to the Whitefan Dominion."
Sasuke bowed. "Your Majesty," he said smoothly. "It is an honor."
"Rise, Prince Sasuke," Kushina replied, her voice velvet over steel. "Welcome to Uzumaki Castle. We are grateful for your journey."
She didn't embrace him. She didn't offer her hand. But she held his gaze long enough for the silence to stretch like taut thread.
Renmaru did not speak at all. He only dipped his head once in formal acknowledgment, then looked away.
Ayaka, however, gave a soft laugh. "You're much prettier than the last suitor they sent. I hope you dance better, too."
The court chuckled behind her. Sasuke's lips twitched at the corner—but he said nothing.
There was a script to these encounters. He had memorized every line.
Still, as he stood before them, Sasuke couldn't help but note the gap.
Only two heirs beside the queen.
And yet—every record he'd studied, every noble document, every gossip-riddled letter from the northern courts—had mentioned three Uzumaki children.
Three siblings.
Sasuke tilted his head politely. "I am grateful for the chance to know your family. I look forward to meeting each of Your Majesty's children in time."
There was the barest flicker of tension in the air.
Renmaru's jaw tightened. Ayaka's fan snapped open.
Kushina, for her part, smiled.
"We'll ensure you are well acquainted with our court," she said. "For now, rest. The trials begin at dawn."
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
The great hall breathed with quiet grandeur, a vaulted chamber where polished stone walls seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Tapestries hung like frozen flames, woven with golden spirals—emblems of the Uzumaki dynasty—that shimmered faintly as the torchlight danced.
Sasuke's boots clicked on the smooth marble floor, steady and deliberate, but his mind was far from the ceremonious surroundings. He noted everything: the chill air despite the braziers, the whispered shifts of court attendants, the way even the shadows seemed carefully managed.
Beside him, Ayaka walked with a grace that seemed effortless but held a subtle steel beneath. Her gown trailed softly behind her, the fabric shifting in hues of deep ember and ash as it caught the light. Her hair was styled in an elaborate coiled braid, interwoven with silver pins shaped like tiny spirals. Despite the elegance, Sasuke's eyes were drawn to the sharp angles of her face—high cheekbones, a slender nose, and lips that curled into a smile that didn't quite reach her blue eyes.
"Uzumaki Castle is larger than it appears," Ayaka said, voice smooth and clear, her eyes flicking to meet his briefly. "It has secrets in its halls—places where whispers are louder than speeches, and where those who wander too long might vanish without notice."
Sasuke regarded her carefully. "I've wandered more labyrinths than these walls," he replied evenly. "I trust I can navigate your castle as well as your court."
Her smile deepened, amused, almost predatory. "Confidence is charming in a suitor. But it can also be dangerous. Pride before the fall, and all that."
He did not flinch. "I've learned to fall with control."
As they continued down the corridor, the torchlight caught the embroidery on Sasuke's sleeves—delicate silver threads weaving a subtle pattern of fans and flowers. It was a stark contrast to the cold, imposing stone of the castle, much like himself: an omega, often underestimated, but tempered by years of discipline and quiet strength.
From behind, a shadow detached itself from the wall—Renmaru.
He came forward with a soldier's sure step, broad shoulders filling the hallway like a moving wall of flame. His short hair gleamed with an unnatural brightness—a fiery crown above a face set in stony judgment.
Renmaru's eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Sasuke's with a glance that carried the weight of unspoken challenge.
"Suitors come and go," Renmaru said, voice low but cutting through the hall like a blade. "Few survive the court. Most fall to their own mistakes."
Sasuke met the gaze evenly. "Then I intend to be counted among those who endure."
Ayaka's laughter echoed softly, light but laced with something sharper—mockery or warning. "A bold claim. The walls of Uzumaki hold many stories. Some of triumph, yes. But many more of ruin."
Her fan snapped open suddenly, the ivory ribs painted with delicate cherry blossoms glinting in the fading light.
Sasuke's lips twitched. "Then I shall endeavor not to add to the latter."
They moved through the hall in an uneasy silence, each step echoing with the weight of unsaid things. The atmosphere was charged—polite but frigid, like water lapping against stone.
Curiosity gnawed at Sasuke, despite his carefully guarded exterior.
He ventured carefully: "You speak of the heirs. There should be three siblings, according to the records I studied. I was expecting to meet all of them."
Ayaka's smile flickered, almost involuntary, but she recovered swiftly, turning her gaze away. "Stories tend to get tangled here. Three may have been a number once, but you'll find there are only two you need concern yourself with."
Renmaru's jaw clenched imperceptibly, but he remained silent.
Sasuke's instincts screamed caution, but he did not press. The subtle fractures in their words and glances were far more telling than any direct answer.
The tour led them back outside, through the outer courtyard where the last golden rays of sunset spilled over rose hedges and stone fountains. Servants moved briskly, preparing for the evening meal.
Ayaka stopped, turning to face him fully. Her blue eyes locked onto his, sharp and unwavering.
"Remember," she said softly, voice dropping just enough, "this court is not a game. Every smile hides a dagger, every alliance a poison."
Sasuke inclined his head, absorbing her warning. "I will tread carefully."
Before he could say more, a faint rustle from the rose bushes caught his attention. A figure stepped out briefly, the moonlight catching on long.
The figure paused, then disappeared behind the hedges as swiftly as he had appeared.
Sasuke's heart skipped.
But when he looked to share his observation, Ayaka and Renmaru were already walking ahead, their conversation resuming as if nothing had happened.
The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of crushed roses and damp stone. Lanterns flickered softly along the winding paths of the courtyard, casting shadows that danced like silent specters across the crimson walls of the castle.
Ayaka moved beside Sasuke with the practiced grace of a court-born alpha. Her golden blond hair was pinned high in an elegant coil, and her clear blue eyes held a calculating sharpness that unsettled him more than the chill in the air.
"You'll find," she said smoothly, "that most suitors come wrapped in promises too fragile to last. Few survive more than a day or two before cracking under the weight."
Sasuke's gaze met hers steadily. "Then I intend to be counted among the survivors."
Her smile was amused, but thin. "Confidence is... entertaining. Just don't mistake it for wisdom."
They walked beneath towering oaks and along paths lined with rose hedges heavy with buds yet to bloom. The courtyard was meticulous—too meticulous—as if every leaf had been placed to hide something beneath.
"Your family keeps much of this place closed," Sasuke observed, his voice quiet but firm. "What secrets do these walls guard?"
Ayaka's eyes flickered, but her voice remained steady. "Noble houses must protect their legacies. Some truths are better left unspoken."
Sasuke's brow furrowed. "And the third heir? Surely they do not remain hidden forever."
Her laugh was low, almost a whisper. "There are tales, yes. But some are easier forgotten."
He considered pressing further, but a passing servant distracted them, hurrying with a tray of wine. Ayaka's gaze followed the servant before returning to him.
"Be cautious here," she warned softly. "Not every smile is friendly, and silence often means danger."
Sasuke's pulse quickened, not from fear but from a rising sense of something unspoken, something lurking just beneath the surface of this polished court.
They continued their walk, the castle's crimson stones glowing softly in the lantern light, but Sasuke's mind was already turning, piecing together fragments of information, sensing that the greatest mysteries of Uzumaki Castle had yet to reveal themselves.
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
The doors to the side chamber opened with a soft creak, revealing a room warmed by flickering candlelight and the scent of jasmine. Heavy curtains framed a small window, where the last light of dusk painted the sky in shades of rose and lavender.
Minato Uzumaki rose as Sasuke entered. His golden hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders, catching the candlelight like spun silk. His eyes—warm amber pools—held a gentle kindness, a stark contrast to the sharp glances Sasuke had met earlier.
"Prince Sasuke," Minato said quietly, his voice smooth and steady. "Welcome to Uzumaki Castle. I hope the journey has not wearied you too much."
Sasuke inclined his head. "Your Majesty. It has been long, but I am grateful for your welcome."
Minato gestured to a low seat by the fire. "Please, sit. It is easier to speak away from the eyes of the court."
As Sasuke settled, Minato's gaze softened. "This castle can seem daunting at first. Its walls hold more than stone and secrets. It carries the weight of duty... and pain."
Sasuke listened, intrigued despite himself.
"There are things in Uzumaki no one says aloud," Minato continued. "Some are trapped in silence, others in shadow. The garden you will see—there, life grows wild, untamed by politics or fear. It is a place for truth, though few are allowed within."
Sasuke's fingers brushed the edge of his sleeve, the silver embroidery catching the firelight.
"And the heirs?" he asked cautiously. "There are three, yes?"
Minato smiled softly, but there was sadness in it. "Yes. Three. But not all present themselves as the court expects."
The words hung between them, a delicate balance of meaning and mystery.
Sasuke met Minato's eyes, sensing an unspoken invitation. "I will keep an open mind."
The room fell into a comfortable silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound.
Minato rose, bowing slightly. "Rest now, Prince Sasuke. Tomorrow will bring many challenges—and perhaps... unexpected discoveries."
Sasuke stood as well, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
As he left the chamber, the warmth of the room seemed to cling to him, a stark contrast to the cold stone corridors outside.
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
The grand dining hall was a cavernous space, its high vaulted ceiling lost to shadows. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen stars overhead, their flickering flames casting fractured light across the long oak tables polished to a mirror sheen. Red and gold banners draped from the walls bore the Uzumaki spiral—a reminder of lineage and legacy.
Sasuke entered with measured steps, the quiet scrape of his boots swallowed by the murmurs of courtiers already seated. Servants moved gracefully between tables, balancing platters of roasted game, steaming vegetables, and delicate spiced breads.
At the head of the main table, Queen Kushina sat poised and imperious, her flame-red hair a vivid contrast against the dark velvet of her gown. To her left and right, Renmaru and Ayaka flanked their mother like twin flames—each radiating their own fierce alpha energy, sharp smiles curving their lips.
Sasuke took the seat offered to him near the center, between two elderly nobles whispering cautiously. The air was heavy with perfume and power, every word weighed and measured like a chess move.
Renmaru's amber gaze flicked to him, cool and appraising.
Ayaka offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Prince Sasuke, welcome to Uzumaki Castle. We hope you find our hospitality... tolerable."
Sasuke inclined his head, voice calm. "Thank you, Princess Ayaka. Your hospitality is more than generous."
The meal began with the soft clinking of silverware, and beneath the formal veneer, currents of unspoken tension rippled through the room.
Court whispers curled like smoke—snatches of conversation caught by attentive ears:
"...He's from the Northern Realm, but they say his lineage is... complicated."
"An omega among alphas? That's unusual for the Uchiha."
"Can he truly withstand our trials?"
Sasuke caught the look Ayaka gave him—a mixture of challenge and amusement.
Between bites of tender venison, he observed the subtle dance between Renmaru and Ayaka. Their glances were sharp and frequent, filled with rivalry but also a fierce protectiveness over the family name.
The queen's gaze occasionally swept the hall, her presence commanding silence and obedience. Yet there was a softness in her eyes when they lingered on a small, intricately carved wooden box placed beside her—a keepsake Sasuke noted but did not question.
As the meal wore on, a servant approached with a delicate silver tray, presenting a folded scroll.
"From the royal library, Prince Sasuke," the servant said quietly.
Sasuke accepted the scroll with a measured nod, unfolding it to reveal a carefully penned letter embossed with the Uzumaki seal.
His eyes scanned the words, which spoke of the courtship trials, the expectations of suitors, and the legacy of the Uzumaki family. Among the formalities, a subtle line caught his attention—"Beware those who mask their true nature beneath gilded smiles."
He looked up sharply, meeting Ayaka's eyes once more.
The princess's smile deepened, enigmatic and knowing.
Sasuke folded the letter carefully. This court is not as simple as it seems.
The night had deepened by the time Sasuke slipped away from the banquet hall. The chill had settled fully into the castle stones, clinging to his shoulders like a second cloak as he made his way through the quiet outer corridors. His footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the torches lining the walls flickering low and steady.
He wasn't sure where he was going—only that he needed air. Space. Distance.
The smiles at dinner had been too sharp. The conversations too rehearsed. The castle, for all its grandeur, felt like it had been constructed not only to impress, but to trap. Every wall was heavy with history. Every glance, a calculation.
He exited into a small stone garden tucked behind a series of high, arched windows. The roses here had not bloomed yet. Their thorny skeletons reached out from neat garden beds like sleeping beasts, waiting to awaken.
Sasuke sat on the edge of the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Its waters were still. The moonlight skimmed across its surface, painting silver shapes that swirled and rippled as the breeze touched them.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees, and let out a slow, careful breath.
Back home, things had been quieter—but no less complicated.
His older brother, Itachi, had always been the one expected to lead. The one who bore the weight of politics and legacy with ease. And yet, Itachi had walked away from it all. He'd married Shisui, a well-known warrior and scholar, and moved to a small estate near the Whitefan Mountains. Their wedding had been scandalous at the time—two alphas, together. It had shaken the noble courts. But their bond had been undeniable.
They were still happy, even now. Itachi wrote every week, his letters full of dried flowers, clipped poetry, and odd anecdotes about birds nesting in their roof.
Sasuke had envied him once.
He wasn't sure if he still did.
"I don't need what they have," Sasuke murmured, watching the reflection of the moon ripple across the water. "I just need to survive this trial. Make a match. Be useful."
But part of him ached—quietly and steadily—for something more. He didn't want to admit it aloud, even in this silent courtyard. But sometimes, when he read Itachi's letters late at night, something behind his ribs would tighten in a way that had nothing to do with envy and everything to do with yearning.
He wasn't a romantic. He didn't believe in destined bonds or fated moments. That was fairy tale nonsense. But he did believe in choice.
And it did mean something that he hadn't been forced into this. That his mother, despite her rigidity, hadn't chained him to someone for the sake of appearance. That Minato and Kushina had offered the courtship openly, rather than issuing an ultimatum. It was more freedom than most omegas of his station received.
He tilted his head toward the stars, his expression unreadable.
"You're lucky, Itachi," he whispered. "You didn't have to fight your nature to find peace. You just found someone who let you breathe."
The fountain gurgled softly behind him.
Sasuke pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He was tired.
Tired of posturing. Tired of assessing every word before he spoke it. Tired of every interaction being a battle dressed in silk.
Maybe this place would never feel like home. Maybe the spiral-crested walls would always feel cold and echoing. Maybe Renmaru would always scowl at him like a rival. Maybe Ayaka would smile like a knife tucked in lace. And maybe that third heir—the one they refused to speak of—didn't want to be found.
He wouldn't blame them, if that were true.
But he was here. And for better or worse, he would stay. He had made a promise to himself long ago: he would not be small. He would not be passive. He would not be like the omegas they whispered about in corners, waiting for affection like it was a favor.
If this court tried to chew him up, he would make sure it choked.
The door to his guest chamber closed behind him with a muted click , and silence rushed in like a tide.
Sasuke leaned back against it for a moment, eyes closed, letting the stillness settle over him. Gone was the noise of the hall, the false laughter, the sideways glances. Gone were the sharp smiles of Ayaka and the cold glares of Renmaru. Gone was the careful posture he'd held all day like armor.
The room was large, likely meant to impress visiting nobility, but it felt too spacious—hollow in the wrong ways. Everything gleamed: polished floors, carved wood furniture, the velvet drapes in deep navy blue embroidered with the Uzumaki crest. A low-burning fire crackled in the hearth, casting golden light across the stone walls, but it couldn't quite warm the space.
A pair of lacquered trunks waited by the wardrobe, delivered by servants during supper. His belongings, all he'd brought from his home.
Sasuke crossed the room slowly and knelt by the first trunk, unfastening its silver latches. Inside were carefully folded garments, travel-worn books, and smaller pouches holding vials of oils and scent blockers. He placed each item down with quiet precision, creating order where he could.
He drew out a navy cloak trimmed in silver—the one his brother had given him before he left.
"You don't have to be like me," Itachi had said, folding it over Sasuke's shoulders. "You don't even have to want what I have. Just… make sure whatever you do, you choose it freely. That's all I want for you."
Sasuke traced the hem with his fingertips, then set the cloak gently aside.
The second trunk held a small wooden case. When he opened it, the faint smell of pine and citrus drifted out, wrapping around him like a memory. Inside were a few letters—his brother's, mostly—and one very old ribbon, frayed at the edges. He didn't know why he brought it. It used to belong to his father's ceremonial blade, long lost in a war Sasuke barely remembered.
Sometimes, he kept things for reasons he didn't understand.
He placed the case at the back of the wardrobe and moved to the window, drawing aside the heavy curtain.
The garden below was quiet, the roses cloaked in moonlight. The lanterns had been dimmed, casting the grounds in soft silver and shadow. Somewhere, an owl called once, then fell silent.
Sasuke rested his forehead against the cool glass.
He hated this. All of it.
Not the castle itself—not even the trials to come. He could handle politics. He could handle scrutiny. What burned beneath his ribs was something colder, deeper: the knowledge that he was being chosen, measured, weighed .
No one here had asked him what he wanted.
Not Ayaka, who smiled like a wolf in silk.
Not Renmaru, who had barely bothered to hide his distaste.
Even Minato, for all his warmth, had spoken to him like someone walking a tightrope over a buried truth.
Sasuke clenched his jaw and turned from the window.
He wasn't here to be admired or arranged like a vase on someone's shelf. And yet that's what this felt like—a contest dressed as a courtship, a choice that didn't really belong to him. Just because he had the illusion of freedom didn't make it real.
Unfastening the clasp at his throat, he let his formal cloak fall across the bed, then began unpinning his cuffs, his chest rising and falling in tight, measured breaths.
A knock came at the door.
He froze.
Then: a soft voice from the other side, muffled through the wood. "Your bath has been drawn, my lord. Shall I bring the oils in?"
Sasuke swallowed the irritation curling in his throat. "No. Leave it."
A pause. Then retreating footsteps.
When he was finally alone again, he let himself fall back onto the bed, arms outstretched, eyes open to the canopy above. Dark blue fabric hung in heavy folds, like the inside of a stormcloud. The sheets smelled of lavender, but it didn't soothe him.
He felt like a puppet someone had dressed and placed in a gilded room.
Maybe that was all he was here: one more suitor in a polished row. One more name in a kingdom's ledger.
He exhaled slowly.
"Don't get soft," he muttered to himself. "You're not here to be liked. You're here to win ."
And still, the emptiness of the room answered him.
The morning began the same as the day before.
Servants knocked gently at Sasuke's door just after sunrise, carrying in trays of warm bread, sweetened tea, and fruits picked from the southern groves. He dressed carefully, suppressing a sigh as he fastened the intricate clasps of his outer cloak—deep navy again, the color of nobility, stitched with silver thread.
He was escorted, as always, by silent attendants who never met his eyes.
The day's schedule had been dictated to him without pause. Court introductions. A review of the training yard. Tours of the estate's holdings. Endless conversations about lineage, trade alliances, and fertility of land. Sasuke kept pace, lips pressed into polite lines, but inside his chest something small and sharp gnawed at him.
It was only the second day, and already he felt like he'd been caged.
When the court steward—a thin man with nervous hands named Yori—gestured toward yet another corridor, Sasuke's patience finally slipped.
"Enough," he said quietly, but the words cut through the courtyard like a blade.
Yori flinched. "Your Highness?"
"I don't need to see another map room." Sasuke's voice was polite, but his eyes were cold. "Or another lecture on grain stores."
Renmaru, walking a few paces ahead, turned slightly over his shoulder. His amber eyes narrowed, lip twitching in amusement. "Tired already, Uchiha?"
Ayaka gave a soft laugh from the side, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Perhaps you should rest, Prince Sasuke. Our routines aren't for the faint-hearted."
Sasuke ignored them both.
"I'd like to walk alone," he said instead, directing the words to Yori. "Unescorted."
Yori hesitated, glancing toward Ayaka for permission. She tilted her head graciously, a false sweetness curving her lips.
"Let him wander," she purred. "It's not as if he'll get far."
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
The castle grounds stretched wider than Sasuke had expected. Past the polished marble courtyards and gilded archways, the manicured gardens faded into rougher, wilder spaces—half-forgotten alcoves and crumbling stone paths swallowed by vines.
He took a side trail without thinking, his boots quieter here on moss instead of tile.
He didn't know what he was looking for. Maybe nothing. Maybe just silence.
The further he walked, the quieter the castle became. No courtiers lingered here. No attendants whispered about alliances. Only the soft sound of birds in the distance and the faint rustle of leaves.
And then—at the very edge of the grounds—he saw it.
An old iron gate, half-covered in thorny rose vines. Rust curled along the hinges. The latch had long since broken, leaving it to hang slightly ajar, swaying gently in the breeze.
Beyond the gate, a garden stretched out like a secret.
It wasn't part of the official tour.
No neat rows of hedges here. No polished stone benches or trimmed topiaries. This garden was overgrown, wild with long grass and curling ivy. Roses—untended and sprawling—climbed the cracked walls, their petals bruised and curling at the edges.
Sasuke pushed the gate open, the metal groaning softly beneath his hand.
The air was different inside. Warmer somehow. Quieter.
He stepped in carefully, his cloak brushing against leaves, and paused.
Somewhere ahead, someone was humming.
Sasuke wandered deeper into the garden, but no one appeared.
The humming had stopped.
All that remained was the breeze brushing through tangled branches, soft and restless, like a ghost weaving between the roses.
He pressed his fingers briefly to the nearest vine, careful of the thorns. The petals beneath his hand were warm—unlike the manicured flowers in the palace courtyards, these blooms had lived hard in the sun, curling in wild spirals toward the sky. Untamed.
Forgotten.
Sasuke's lips tightened.
Why build a place like this only to abandon it? The Uzumaki clan maintained their public gardens meticulously. He'd seen them already—perfectly trimmed hedges, arranged fountains, goldfish ponds so polished they reflected the courtiers' faces.
But this?
This place was for no one. At least, no one who mattered to the court anymore.
He let his gaze sweep over the cracked stone path beneath his feet, the scattered rose petals curling brown at the edges. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled softly—marking midday—but the sound felt far away here, like it belonged to another world.
His hand dropped back to his side.
What would Itachi do?
The thought slipped in uninvited, as it often did.
Sasuke imagined his brother standing here, dark eyes half-lidded, arms crossed loosely as if this was all part of some larger plan. Itachi had always known how to navigate delicate situations—how to smile when necessary, how to bite when it mattered.
He wouldn't have let Renmaru bait him in the courtyard. He wouldn't have flinched at Ayaka's false politeness. He certainly wouldn't be pacing through an abandoned garden looking for reasons to breathe.
Sasuke exhaled quietly, shoulders easing back.
He wasn't his brother.
He wasn't here to charm the court or to win points for strategy. He was here to choose a match, to find an alliance that made sense for his people. He had every right to be careful.
And yet…
Something was off.
There were three Uzumaki heirs. Three. And so far, only two had been paraded in front of him.
His eyes narrowed, tracing the pattern of thorned vines curling along the walls. Pale petals littered the ground like tiny scattered flags.
They're hiding something.
The thought lodged in his chest like a stone.
It wasn't paranoia—not exactly. Just instinct. The same instinct that kept him alive in diplomatic circles back home, that helped him walk beside his brother in shadowed halls where smiles meant war.
His gaze drifted to the garden's far wall, where a patch of moonflower vines had overrun the stone archway. No footsteps in the dirt. No signs of recent pruning. Whoever had been here before—if anyone—was gone now.
The weight of solitude settled over him again.
He closed his eyes briefly, steadying his breath.
Calm your mind. Feel your feet beneath you. Breathe.
Itachi's old advice. Sasuke repeated it in his head like a quiet mantra.
After a moment, he turned back toward the iron gate.
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
By the time Sasuke returned to the main halls, the sunlight had shifted, softening toward late afternoon.
He said little during the rest of the day.
Ayaka noticed, of course. She asked him questions with too-sweet smiles. Renmaru barely looked at him at all, which was almost a relief.
Sasuke answered when necessary, but otherwise he kept his focus tight. His thoughts circled back to the hidden garden again and again.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd stepped into something unspoken. Something he wasn't meant to find.
Night wrapped itself around Uzumaki Castle like silk.
The southern winds carried whispers—of laughter from banquet halls, of the clink of wine goblets, of careful footsteps down stone corridors. But here, at the garden's edge, the night was thick and still.
Sasuke couldn't sleep.
His thoughts gnawed at him like wolves in the dark. He'd tried to settle. Tried to breathe evenly in bed, to mimic the rhythm his brother had taught him. Calm the mind, feel the breath, be still.
It wasn't working.
The image of the abandoned garden pressed against the inside of his eyelids. The overgrown vines, the bruised roses, the crack in the world where something wild was left to grow.
So he rose silently, wrapping himself in a dark cloak, leaving his formal robes untouched on the chair. His boots made no sound against the cold floor as he slipped through the side passage he'd memorized—every noble child learned how to find the exits first.
No guards stopped him. No servants followed.
By the time he reached the iron gate again, the air had cooled. The vines shimmered faintly in the moonlight, wet with dew. A few petals shivered loose in the wind, landing softly on his shoulder.
Sasuke brushed them off with careful fingers.
✿┈┈┈┈༺❀༻┈┈┈┈✿
Inside the garden, the air smelled sharper than before. Green and damp. Like earth after rain.
Sasuke let the gate swing shut behind him, its hinge sighing on the wind. The grass was cool beneath his boots, curling at the edges of the cracked stones.
For a moment, there was only quiet.
Then— humming .
A melody drifted from the far side of the garden, low and breathy, the notes curved like vines. It wasn't court music. Nothing formal. It was rawer, unfinished, like something hummed to the soil itself.
Sasuke's pulse quickened.
He followed the sound, moving carefully between the roses. His cloak brushed against thorns, snagging briefly—he pulled it free without looking down, eyes locked on the shadow ahead.
There, near the forgotten archway, knelt a boy.
At first Sasuke thought he was alone, speaking to the plants like a madman. But then he saw the way the boy's hands moved—slow, deliberate, fingers tracing the petals of an open bloom as if learning its shape by memory.
His hair was loose, falling past his shoulders in golden spirals. The moonlight kissed the curls, painting them almost white at the tips.
The boy hummed under his breath, head tilted, eyes half-closed.
Sasuke's throat tightened.
He wasn't sure if it was the stillness of the boy's posture, or the confidence of it—the way he touched the garden not like a servant, but like someone with authority over forgotten things.
He almost turned back. Almost.
But then the boy spoke, without looking up:
"I wondered when you'd come back."
His voice wasn't soft—not exactly. There was a sharpness beneath the melody, like a blade hidden in silk.
Sasuke's heart gave a small, traitorous jolt.
"You knew I was here?" he asked, voice low.
"Of course." The boy's lips curved, not quite a smile. "You're heavy-footed."
"I'm not."
That earned a soft huff of amusement. "Maybe not compared to the others. But I'm good at hearing things."
Sasuke hesitated, eyes narrowing. "Are you a servant?"
The boy's hands stilled on the rose bush.
"I'm not here to serve you," he said carefully.
Sasuke stepped closer, his boots whispering against the wet grass. "Then why are you here?"
"To tend this place."
"This place is abandoned."
"Not by me."
The boy finally tilted his head—pale blue eyes catching the light.
Sasuke froze. His breath stilled in his throat.
The boy wasn't looking at him. His gaze was unfocused, directed somewhere past Sasuke's shoulder. But his face was so still, so composed, that it took Sasuke a moment to understand:
He's blind.
And yet—he moved like someone who could see perfectly.
"You don't belong here," Sasuke said quietly.
The boy's lips twitched. "Neither do you."
Sasuke's jaw tightened.
"I'm part of the court."
The boy gave a soft snort. "Are you?"
"You know who I am."
"Maybe." The boy's pale eyes fluttered briefly closed, his hand brushing over another bloom. "Another suitor. Another noble here to waste his breath trying to win favors."
"I don't want favors."
"Then why are you here, Sasuke Uchiha?"
Sasuke stiffened.
The boy's voice curled around his name like silk around a blade.
"You—" Sasuke swallowed. "How do you know who I am?"
"I hear things," the boy whispered again. "Servants talk. Courtiers talk. Even flowers talk, if you're patient."
Sasuke's gaze sharpened.
"You're not a gardener," he said.
"No."
"Then who are you?"
The boy's smile was slow this time—soft at the edges, but sad somehow.
"I could tell you," he murmured, tilting his face toward the stars. His curls spilled like gold down his back, moonlight caught in every strand. "But names make things heavier."
Sasuke's throat tightened.
"I can handle it."
"I'm not sure you can."
Their eyes didn't meet—but somehow Sasuke still felt the weight of the boy's gaze, unfocused but intense. He took a breath, but it didn't steady him.
"Tell me anyway."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because if I give you my name," the boy whispered, "you'll start to care."
The words landed too close to Sasuke's chest.
Something about the way he said it—soft, like a warning—made Sasuke feel as though he were already carrying something without realizing it. A burden he hadn't agreed to take, but had picked up anyway.
The boy's fingers drifted over the roses again.
Sasuke reached out before he could stop himself, catching the boy's wrist lightly.
The boy went still.
His skin was warm. His pulse steady. But the moment stretched between them like a drawn bowstring—fragile, taut, poised to snap.
Sasuke let go first.
The boy said nothing about it. He just brushed the dirt from his knees and rose to stand, tall and composed despite bare feet in the cold grass.
"Maybe I'll see you again," he said softly.
Before Sasuke could answer, the boy stepped back into the shadows, curls disappearing between the vines like moonlight sinking beneath water.
Sasuke stood alone in the garden long after the boy left.
His heart was still beating too fast.
Names make things heavier.
Sasuke clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides. He didn't know what that meant. He didn't know why it felt true.
But somehow, he knew this:
He would come back.