The restaurant's exterior did its best to look like nothing special—a brick facade, small sign, a nondescript window lit by the city's sodium haze. But the moment Naruto and Sasuke stepped inside, the world muted itself. Thick carpets ate the sound of footsteps, and the lighting—low, not dim, as if designed to flatter secrets—warmed everything to the color of old honey. The hostess, white-blonde hair in a twist as severe as a judge's gavel, barely batted an eyelash at the sight of them together.
"We have a reservation," Sasuke said, voice pitched to the exact decibel that made people stop and listen.
The woman nodded, checked her screen, then offered a practiced smile. "Private room. Your party is already seated."
Naruto swallowed. His tie, newly acquired and marginally less orange than his casual wardrobe, felt like a noose around his neck. He fiddled with the knot as they followed the hostess through a gauntlet of glass-walled wine racks and minimalist art that cost more than his car.
"Relax," Sasuke murmured, just audible over the susurrus of high-stakes business deals and anniversary confessions that filled the other tables. "You look like you're about to be executed."
"Easy for you to say," Naruto whispered back. "Your hands aren't sweating through your shirt."
Sasuke's lips twitched—the closest he'd ever come to a pep talk—and then the door to the private dining room swung open.
Inside, the party had already started without them. Jiraiya's laugh—a boom that threatened to destabilize the molecular structure of the walls—echoed across the table, where TenTen sat mid-story, hands carving through the air like propellers. Next to her, Gaara lounged with his trademark detachment, arms folded and eyes flicking between Naruto and Sasuke with surgical precision. Rock Lee, resplendent in a bottle-green suit, was in the midst of pouring water for the table, the decanter quivering slightly in his grip.
Sai sat at the far end, posture so correct it bordered on parody. His eyes tracked Naruto the instant he entered, a slow dilation that betrayed the polite mask.
The table itself was a monument to fine linen and better intentions—heavy napkins, tiny plates arranged with geometric rigor, cutlery so pristine it seemed a crime to touch. Karin perched beside Suigetsu, her hair a vivid red even more intense under the chandelier's diffuse glow. She smiled—sharp and without teeth—and inclined her head as the newcomers arrived. Suigetsu didn't bother to sit up; he sprawled sideways in his chair, one arm slung over the back, grin lazy and predatory.
"Gentlemen," Jiraiya called, raising his glass. "The conquering heroes arrive!"
Naruto's throat clicked as he took his seat, Sasuke settling in beside him. The table seemed to recalibrate around their presence, a subtle redistribution of energy that made Naruto want to shrink and expand at the same time.
"We were just discussing the finer points of dessert menus," TenTen said, her eyes twinkling. "You're late."
"We're not late," Sasuke replied, glancing at his watch. "You're early."
Karin, having finished her breadstick massacre, leveled a question at the head of the table. "So, who's going to tell us why we're really here? The suspense is killing me."
Naruto felt Sasuke's gaze, a silent challenge: Now or never.
He cleared his throat, the sound far too loud in the plush quiet of the room. "Right. Um. We invited you here because—" The words, which had lined up so neatly in his brain earlier, now crashed into each other, leaving a pileup of conjunctions and half-sentences. "Because there's something we wanted you all to know."
Jiraiya leaned in, eyes wide. Sai stilled, watching with unsettling intensity. Lee put down his fork with reverence.
Naruto's heart climbed into his throat. He risked a glance at Sasuke, whose posture betrayed nothing but whose hand had stopped tapping.
"It's about the, uh, publishing project," Naruto started. "But also—not about the publishing project? Like, sort of related, but—"
Sasuke, sensing the death spiral, rose to his feet. He did it quietly, not with the grandstanding of a toast, but with the inevitability of a closing argument.
"What Naruto is trying to say," Sasuke said, voice smooth as poured mercury, "is that we're together."
A silence, not awkward but anticipatory, fell over the room.
Then: Jiraiya slammed his glass down, splashing scotch onto his sleeve. "Ha! I knew it. About damn time." His laugh boomed, shaking the light fixture overhead. Lee whooped, pumping his fist, while TenTen snapped a photo of the moment, grinning like she'd just won the lottery.
Sai's face remained expressionless, but his knuckles whitened against the edge of the table. "Congratulations," he said, the word carefully measured, calibrated for maximum neutrality. "I hope you're both happy."
Gaara regarded them with a slow, approving nod. "We've been placing bets," he said, not specifying whether he meant with Lee or simply in his own mind.
TenTen raised her glass. "To Naruto and Sasuke: may you both be less awkward than this announcement."
Everyone laughed. Even Suigetsu, who muttered, "So does this mean we're allowed to talk about it now?" as he clinked glasses with Karin.
Karin's eyes narrowed to slits. She didn't touch her wine, but her lips curled in a smile so small it might have been a muscle spasm. "Well," she said, "that explains a lot."
Sasuke sat back down, exhaling quietly. Naruto, still blinking from the adrenaline surge, found Sasuke's hand under the table, cool and reassuring.
Karin shot Suigetsu a look, then leaned across the table toward Naruto. "Congratulations," she said, voice low. "I hope you know what you're doing." There was no threat in it, just the faint hum of rivalry, the acknowledgment of a worthy opponent.
Naruto grinned, all teeth. "Me too."
As the entrees arrived, the din of the private room rose to match the best kind of holiday—everyone talking over each other, the past finally receding into a manageable blur, the present expanding to fill the room. Sasuke's hand remained under the table, steady as a promise.
When the wine arrived, and the waiter filled the glasses, Naruto risked a glance around the table. The faces, even the ones he barely knew, glowed with a mixture of pride and relief. They looked like family, or as close as he'd ever get to one in this city.
He lifted his glass, voice sure now. "To new beginnings," he said.
The table echoed him, and for the first time in a long while, Naruto believed it.
—
Naruto woke to the chirr of his phone, the kind of notification burst that signaled a workday already careening off script. He sat up, shoving hair out of his face, and checked the timestamp: 7:36 AM. The early birds on his publishing team had already started the group chat, each message stacking into a tidy mountain of dread.
He scrolled through the first few—shallow jokes, links to trending articles, an ongoing debate about the company holiday party's disastrous karaoke contest. None referenced last night, or the announcement, or him at all. It felt deliberate, the way a person tiptoes around a still-wet wound.
He exhaled, set the phone aside, and pulled his laptop from under the bed. The screen blinked awake with an array of tabs he'd left open for courage: legal definitions of "conflict of interest," HR policies about workplace relationships, and a draft email with the subject line: "Team Update."
He stared at it for a full minute, then started to type.
Good morning, all.
I wanted to inform you directly, rather than through the rumor mill, that Sasuke Uchiha and I are in a committed relationship. We understand that, given the nature of our collaborative projects, this might raise questions about professional boundaries and potential conflicts of interest.
To that end, I have already reached out to HR and legal counsel to ensure that all protocols are followed, and that all editorial decisions remain transparent and impartial. Our focus remains on delivering the best work possible, and I am committed to maintaining the same standards of integrity you expect from this team.
Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns, or if you just want to roast me about it. (But go easy—my ego is fragile before 10AM.)
Thank you for your time and support.
He read the email three times, each pass stripping a layer of self-respect, but he hit SEND anyway. A minute later, the first reply chimed in.
He grinned, even as the nerves in his stomach unspooled. A second wave of messages rolled in—congratulations, a few office memes, even a "Proud of you, Uzumaki" from Shizune, who never messaged before noon.
Then, a direct call. Jiraiya.
Naruto picked up, bracing for either a lecture or a victory lap.
"G'morning, kid," Jiraiya's voice crackled over the line, half gravel, half fondness. "You sleep at all last night?"
"Not really," Naruto confessed. "Was worried you'd fire me for dating the competition."
Jiraiya snorted. "You think I didn't see this coming? Half my bet was on how long it would take you two idiots to figure it out. I only wish I'd put more money on Sasuke caving first."
Naruto laughed, the tension in his spine releasing. "So… we're cool?"
"We're cool, Naruto. But you need to be careful. This city runs on rumors, and every CEO in the business reads my newsletter. Keep it professional and you'll be fine. If not—" Jiraiya's voice dropped. "Just remember, I've got your back. But don't expect me to bail you out if you start a fistfight at the next investor dinner."
Naruto felt a swell of gratitude. "Thanks, old man."
"Don't mention it. Oh, and Naruto?"
"Yeah?"
"Congratulations. You deserve it."
Naruto hung up, the edges of his vision suddenly sharper, colors cleaner. He sent a few quick texts—one to his mother, one to Mikoto, and one to Sasuke, who hadn't replied yet. Then he dragged himself to the shower, ready to face the world.
—
Uchiha Corp ran on a different brand of adrenaline. Sasuke arrived at 8:01, found Karin already stationed outside his office with three manila folders and a look that could have curdled paint. Suigetsu lurked near the espresso machine, watching with a detachment that suggested he'd seen at least two workplace coups before breakfast.
Karin waited until Sasuke was halfway through his first cup before launching her attack. "Do you want to explain this?" she asked, slapping a printout of a trade blog onto his desk. The headline: UCHIHA HEIR AND PUBLISHING PRODIGY: THE POWER COUPLE NOBODY SAW COMING.
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "It's accurate. And I thought you read the newsletters for me."
She ignored the dig, focusing on the real crisis. "You have a meeting with HR at nine. They want to review your statements and prep you for press inquiries." Her nails drummed the folder edge, a machine-gun staccato. "This is going to be a mess."
"I'm aware," Sasuke replied, stacking the printout neatly. "Thank you, Karin. That'll be all for now."
She stood, gaze drilling holes in the side of his head. "You know, I always thought you'd end up with someone ruthless. Or at least someone who knows how to use a planner."
Sasuke allowed the faintest smile. "There's more than one way to run a company, Karin."
She left, dignity wrapped tight around her like a steel-plated skirt.
At 9:00, the HR director—an affable woman named Aburame who wore sunglasses indoors—ushered Sasuke into a glass-walled conference room. The next thirty minutes were a controlled burn of policy clarifications, legal jargon, and polite but probing questions about his "personal commitments." Sasuke answered everything without hesitation. At the end, Aburame nodded approval.
"We appreciate your candor, Mr. Uchiha. Please keep us in the loop if your relationship status changes. And if you have any concerns, our door is open."
Sasuke thanked her, then returned to his office, where Suigetsu waited, holding two mugs.
"Congrats," Suigetsu said. "I hear HR is betting on whether Karin quits or burns the place down."
Sasuke took the coffee. "And your money is on?"
"Karin never quits," Suigetsu said, eyes cold and amused. "But if you hear glass shatter, duck."
As if on cue, a crash sounded from down the hall. Karin's voice, high and tremulous with rage, echoed after: "FUCK!" Suigetsu winced. "That'll be the mug."
He left, whistling, and Sasuke allowed himself a minute of stillness.
His phone vibrated. A text from Naruto.
How'd it go? Any casualties? Also, I miss you.
Sasuke typed back: Nothing fatal. I'll see you tonight.
He allowed himself a smile before the next meeting, the first real one all day.
—
By noon, the city was running at its usual speed. The news was already old; the novelty, faded. Even Karin had returned to her desk, nursing her grudge and a borrowed mug. Sasuke signed off on contracts, fielded three calls from the board, and still managed to read every one of Naruto's inane texts as they arrived, each one a lifeline to the person who mattered most.
Naruto, for his part, had survived his editorial team's "grilling" at lunch, and was already dreaming up new book proposals and travel plans. His hands trembled a little less each time he hit send.
That night, when the city's light bled orange and pink against the windows, Naruto and Sasuke met at their favorite ramen place, no disguises or decoy stories needed. They talked about everything except work, argued over whose turn it was to pay, and walked home side by side.
At the door to Naruto's apartment, Sasuke stopped, hand on the doorknob. "Still okay?" he asked.
Naruto looked at him—really looked, and saw the hope, the caution, the real question behind the words.
He grinned, wide and true. "Better than okay."
Sasuke nodded. "Good."
And for the first time, they walked in together, the door closing softly behind them, no secrets left on the other side.