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Itachi had never been good at announcing things. Not to his parents, not to Shisui, not even to Sasuke. Words had always come easier in action than in speech, easier to show than to say. But that morning, in the quiet of the Uchiha estate’s library, with pale spring sunlight streaming across polished wood and the faint scent of ink and old books in the air, he realized he had no choice.
He stood with his hands folded behind his back, aware of the weight of all eyes on him. Fugaku and Mikoto were seated across from him, expressions calm, attentive, yet tinged with expectation. Sasuke perched on a low table, legs swinging nervously, curiosity and disbelief flickering across his face. Shisui leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth, clearly anticipating something entertaining.
“I have something to say,” Itachi began, voice steady, controlled, though a tightness in his chest betrayed him. He paused briefly, letting the room settle, letting them all feel the seriousness of the moment.
Fugaku raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
Itachi inhaled, careful, deliberate. “I… intend to court Sakura Haruno.”
A hush fell over the room. Even the faint rustle of a turning page seemed loud.
Sasuke blinked. “Huh?”
Shisui’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Wait—what?”
“It is serious,” Itachi said evenly, holding their gazes, letting the weight of his words settle. “I have considered it carefully. I realize that I… love her.”
Mikoto’s eyes softened, a warm light igniting behind them. She gave a faint nod, and her lips curved into a small, approving smile. “You do, then?”
“Yes, Mother,” Itachi said, bowing slightly. “I wish to make her my wife.”
Sasuke froze, mouth half-open. “Wait, you… you’re serious?”
“Yes,” Itachi said calmly. “Completely.”
Shisui leaned forward, grinning. “Finally! Took you long enough, Itachi!”
Itachi shot him a mild glare. “Shisui.”
“Just stating the obvious,” Shisui said with a shrug, entirely unapologetic.
Sasuke leaned forward, whispering to Shisui, “I can’t believe he actually said it. Out loud.”
Shisui snorted and clapped a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder. “He said it. In front of everyone. And without even a dramatic pause. That’s peak Itachi right there.” Sasuke’s jaw dropped. “Peak Itachi?! He’s my brother! This is, this is insane! He’s going to… he’s going to… I don’t even know!”
Shisui smirked. “I told you. And now watch, he’s going to wait for someone to comment before he breathes.”
Fugaku’s fingers were steepled atop the table, expression unreadable. A long silence stretched, heavy, deliberate, every second amplified in the quiet of the library. Finally, he inclined his head slightly. “Very well. If this is what you want, I trust you understand the responsibilities involved. Love is… not enough, Itachi. You must honor duty, respect, and the expectations this brings, not as a performance, but as a conscious choice.”
“I do,” Itachi replied, voice firm. “I have considered it carefully. I understand that. And I intend to honor it fully, every day.”
Sasuke muttered under his breath, “So… you’re actually going to marry her?”
Shisui leaned closer to him, nudging his shoulder. “See? I told you he’d do it eventually. Took him… what? A few decades?”
“It takes practice,” Itachi said dryly, the faintest trace of humor in his voice. “Do not push your luck, Shisui.”
Mikoto stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Then make her happy, Itachi. Not for the clan. Not for appearances. For yourself and for her.”
“I will,” Itachi said, feeling a rare, unburdened weight lift from his chest.
Shisui grinned mischievously. “Don’t tell me you rehearsed this in front of a mirror.”
“Itachi,” Sasuke said, turning to him with exaggerated incredulity, “did you rehearse this? Did you practice in front of a mirror? Did you-”
“It does not require rehearsal,” Itachi said evenly, lifting a brow, “merely clarity of intent.”
Sasuke groaned dramatically, throwing himself back on the table. “Clarity of intent? That’s your excuse? You love her, so just say it, but nooo… you have to sound like a government official announcing a treaty!”
Shisui laughed so hard he leaned against the wall to steady himself. “Honestly, he kind of does have the perfect ‘government official’ vibe. But at least he means it. That’s what counts.”
Itachi’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “Shisui, enough.”
“Nope,” Shisui said, grinning. “I have to record this moment in my memory forever. You, standing there like a perfect little general declaring war on… um… your own feelings.”
Sasuke rolled his eyes. “And you, Shisui, are unbelievable. Can’t let anything serious happen without making a joke.”
“It’s called balance,” Shisui said. “You should try it sometime, little bro.”
Mikoto laughed softly, her hand still resting on Itachi’s shoulder. “I think balance has been found, Itachi. Between your seriousness and their chaos.”
“It seems so,” Itachi replied, a quiet calm settling over him despite the teasing. He glanced once at Sasuke, whose expression had shifted from incredulity to reluctant admiration, and then at Shisui, still grinning. And somewhere in the corner of his mind, he thought of Sakura, patient, steady, unwavering.
Fugaku’s lips twitched. “Do not forget, your decisions now ripple outward. The clan watches, not to control, but to learn. Do not disappoint them… or yourself.”
“I understand, Father,” Itachi said, absorbing the gravity and the blessing in the same breath.
Shisui leaned lazily against the doorway again. “So, what now? Do you tell her?”
Itachi’s gaze softened. “That is the next step.”
Sasuke groaned dramatically. “She’s going to, wait, she already knows, doesn’t she?”
Mikoto laughed softly, a sound full of warmth and relief. “Then take care of her. Cherish her. Protect her, as you would our family. And trust her to guide you as well.”
“Yes,” he said softly, to no one in particular, “I will proceed carefully. With intention. With care. With love.”
“And you better,” Mikoto added firmly, smiling. “Otherwise, Shisui and Sasuke will never let you live it down.” Sasuke and Shisui exchanged mischievous glances, and Itachi allowed himself the tiniest exhale of amusement.
In that quiet, sunlit library, Itachi realized something: he could be himself. Serious. Steadfast. Yet surrounded by those who loved him enough to tease him mercilessly. He could declare his heart, and the world didn’t collapse. The bonds he had chosen, the family he had earned, were enough.
The patience he had cultivated. The trust he had learned to give. The love he had dared to accept.
He looked around at the family who had witnessed him standing there: Mikoto, warm and approving; Fugaku, measured and strong; Sasuke, incredulous yet slowly learning to accept it; Shisui, mischievous but supportive.
For the first time in his life, Itachi allowed himself to feel it: hope.
Not as a fleeting thought. Not as a shadow behind duty. But alive, tangible, quietly taking root.
A future where he could love and be loved. Where trust was stronger than fear. Where family, blood, bond, and choice, was enough.
And somewhere, in the quiet corners of that library, Itachi imagined her: Sakura, patient, steadfast, fierce and gentle all at once. The life they would build together. The ordinary, extraordinary days.
Now, he could breathe completely, knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.