Dragonfly

Chapter Seven: Omiai And Eyes

When taking care of Sasuke didn't seem to improve my unruly nature, Emiko thought that maybe something like marriage would.

That's right. Marriage.

Well, not technically marriage-not right off the bat-but an arranged marriage contract with some other Uchiha guy my age that would hold up legally until I turned sixteen (which I never would), the minimum age to get hitched in this messed up clan.

I was only ten. My parents must have really been getting desperate.

"Rika, sit still," Emiko snapped, making a valiant attempt at taming my hair and making me look at least halfway presentable for the upcoming hell. It was no big deal just brushing it and letting me go for most days, but for an engagement prospect meeting-an omiyage or onmyōji thing; I couldn't recall the exact word Satoshi called it-it was "paramount" (and I quote Emiko here) that I look my absolute best and prettiest; my humblest and most graceful (a total sham) in order to secure a proper husband for the future.

She'd already wrestled me into an elegant, formal kimono she whipped up just for the event that was totally wasted on my stick-thin form-but I did have to admit, it made me look sort of pretty. I mean, I was an Uchiha-ugliness just didn't run in our veins and good genes were a dime a dozen, so I wasn't that bad-looking from the start.

Still, the deep-eggplant color of the garment Emiko had custom picked contrasted nicely with my slightly-suntanned skin (only slightly, barely even there, because even though the clan mostly had skin like porcelain, it was so hard to get it darker; plus, we should burn like albinos in the heat but genetics just said screw that. Stay pale). The delicate, silvery threads that made up the embroidery of two dragonflies chasing each other in a gentle swooping pattern added a touch of femininity I hadn't possessed in quite a few years.

It was really nice to show off and be, well...girly every now and then.

The only drawback was-"Ow! That hurts!"-Mama Emiko had to go to great lengths to fix up my hair, sticking in several pins and twisting the strands tightly to make it uphold the style she wanted-some sort of poofy bun updo with my heavy, thick bangs smoothed back, leaving my face clear and visible-and my scalped ached something fierce by the time she was done battling it and putting me through the damn wringer.

I barely recognized myself.

"Whoa," I spun a wild circle in front of the full-length mirror she'd set me by, then set my hands on my lilac obi, standing tall. "I look good!"

"You do," Emiko agreed faintly, dabbing her forehead with a lacy handkerchief. I didn't expect it would be so much trouble that it would make her work up a sweat. Made me feel a little guilty. "You're a lovely girl."

"Aha! Thanks." I grinned despite myself, feeling my cheeks warm at the tender, pretty much out of place, words. "You mean it?"

A rare smile crossed the woman's face, showing off the single dimple in her right cheek. "Yes, of course. Even when you're covered in mud or chicken feathers or paint. But I much prefer when you're all cleaned up like this." She straightened my collar before setting her hands on my shoulders and looking me dead in the eyes. "Now, you'll behave yourself, won't you?"

"Sure!"

Emiko's smile broadened a tiny bit, and there was a little edge to it. "Good. Because if you don't, you'll never find anyone and you'll end up marrying Shisui."

"Wha-what?" I choked. Wait to drop that bomb-had she been plotting something with Kou this entire time? I wouldn't doubt it. "He's my cousin, Mom! You're kidding, right?" Scary thing was, I was pretty sure she was serious. Clan purity, clan purity!