pamamanhikan

pamamanhikan - (noun) a Filipino tradition where the families of the bride and groom first meet.

They were a weird bunch, standing over unnamed graves at the farthest corner of the town. It rained earlier, the cusp of autumn lingering in the aftermath of the light showers. This was the designated spot, Kakashi said, where everyone can easily forget and forgive.

Despite its remoteness, someone took the time to cut the grass and plant perennial wildflowers, the bare minimum for the excommunicated. Sarada snuggled closer to the breast of her grandmother, still too milk-drunk to watch what was happening.

Sasuke shifted in his feet, unaccustomed still with the presence of Sakura’s parents. He cleared his throat and swept his arm across the grounds. “Well, uh, this is it.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t even put their names. So disrespectful.” Kizashi shook his head in dismay. He glanced at Sasuke briefly. “And I’m not saying this because you’re my son-in-law, but I think everyone who gets on their deathbed wishes to be remembered.”

“Papa,” Sakura whined.

“Ah, let your father speak his mind,” Mebuki said softly, adjusting Sarada against her waist. “Now, Sasuke dear, I think it’s time you make the introductions.”

Itachi pats Sasuke’s shoulders in a reassuring manner. “I’m sure she’ll be great.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes at his brother’s efforts. “Your arranged marriage is with Izumi, and you already liked her before then. This is not comparable.”

“Loosen up, you might actually like this girl. Soft and velvet black hair, onyx eyes, and aristocrat features? What more do you want?” Obito chirps in.

Pink hair and emerald irises, Sasuke thinks.

Fugaku and Mikoto stand on each side of the door of the room, gesturing Sasuke to hurry, their faces both stern and angry at his earlier attempts to escape his marriage interview.

Shisui, ever the devil’s advocate, stealthily creeps behind him and pushes him into the room. “Go on already and make an emo offspring!”

“Those fuckers,” Sasuke mutters under his breath. He rakes his hair with his fingers, clearly exasperated, and starts his pronouncement. “I’m sorry I don’t want to marry someone from my clan. You’ll find a better prospect.”

“That’s good then.” A familiar voice greets him, and his eyes fix upon a pair of emerald orbs. “Because I’m a Haruno.”

Sasuke is well aware of his open mouth and aggressively bewildered expression, complete with furrowed brows, scrunched up nose, and questioning eyes.

Sakura laughs, breaking the silence as well as her composure. She slaps him on the arm and turns to his family's evident shadow behind the doors, obviously eavesdropping. "Your family thought you were taking too long. They said a pink-haired Senju is too perfect to pass up."

"But I just bought this!" He rummages through his pocket and lifts a velvet box from its confines.

Sakura gives him a tight-lipped smile in return. "I'm not sure if I should say yes to your proposal when you haven't asked me out on a date yet."

Shisui and Obito crack up in laughter somewhere while Itachi slumps against the door. They also hear Fugaku mutter, "I have an idiot son", and Mikoto reassure him with, "You did the same honey. Your son just took after you."