[He takes the light correction in stride, warm smile unfaltering. At Itachi's words, he ducks his head to hide the widening of his smile, reaching for his tea to have something to do with his hands.]
Does it? Then I should wear it more often. [He raises his tea, blowing on it gently before taking a sip.]
About what I was saying before, about living. I want to stay. But if I can't for any reason, then...then I'm still grateful for the time.
I think I understand myself better now. Even if I've long relinquished my regret, being here is still a gift.
（ he makes a soft murmur of agreement, less words and more just an especially meaningful exhalation, and he reaches over to brush an errant lock of the man's hair back behind one ear. it has been a gift for both of them — and although he does not articulate the same, it's clearly evident in the way his expression is, for a moment, achingly soft.
They have spoken of his parents on a handful of occasions, all before he'd known the truth. He looked more like his mother, he remembers. His father had been stern, but loving. A good man and a good father in spite of what the world demanded of him and the burdens lain on his shoulders. And Wei Wuxian has thought of Sasuke so often he can almost imagine him without needing any help. But sharing them like this is different.
For just a moment, his stomach flutters foolishly with the echoes of nerves. Would they have liked him? Itachi's parents at least, he already knows winning Sasuke's affections would have ben an uphill battle. He'd like to think he'd have won him over eventually even if it took years.]
（ itachi captures one of the man's hands and lifts it, pressing his lips to its back before he releases him. he does not say a word. no words are needed, really — but the house is suddenly alive with the release of all that promised energy. it's subtle at first. little sounds (someone is sharpening weapons in another room) and little smells (the astringent smell of a laundry soap designed to get blood out of clothing) but the first and perhaps most important thing is this:
sasuke walks through the front door.
he's silent (he learned from the best) as he pads through the house, and when he enters the kitchen itachi's attention swivels to him, and. stops. there was a part of him that had expected — that his own mind would manifest sasuke at seven, the way he is permanently etched on the fabric of memory. he never needs to spare much conscious thought for the shape genjutsu takes, and tsukuyomi less so. the disconnect is startling.
but the sasuke that ducks into the kitchen is taller, broader, has a sword slung over one shoulder. he's wearing a gray shirt, with a purple obi belted around his waist. his hair is a bit longer, swept back with one hand as sasuke drops down beside them both. his gauntlets come off, the sword is leaned up against the table. no manners to speak of, but then — could a child orphaned at seven subsequently abandoned by the ninja world truly be expected to maintain decorum?
his heart has all but seized in his chest, and he is barely breathing.
sasuke pours himself a cup of tea without ceremony or preamble, and gives wei ying a sideways glance without comment. there is annoyance briefly visible in his features, but it's mutable. controlled.
he looks exactly as he did in that final fight against kabuto. except his eyes are dark, the weapon of the sharingan sheathed. ）
[Wei Wuxian too had been expecting the young Sasuke of Itachi's memories that Itachi had spoken of before, and the presence of the young man nearly of age with them takes him by surprise. They look so alike it would be startling if he didn't expect it, and it draws his lips up into a smile, amusement tugging his lips up at one corner at the vague annoyed look tossed his way.
He isn't anything like Jiang Cheng, and yet the words are so much like Jiang Cheng he has to raise a hand to muffle a soft laugh.
Little brothers, he thinks with so much affection his whole chest swells with it.
His eyes flicker to Itachi's in conspiratorial amusement, and the amusement immediately fades away into something softer. Ah. The hand under the kotatsu squeezes Itachi's once.]
I can make you something if you'd like, Sasuke, although if your spice tolerance is the same as Itachi's here, I probably shouldn't. [There's a soft teasing look in his eyes.]
（ it's subtle. to almost anyone else, it would mean nothing that itachi does not pull his hand away. but wei ying will know the value — and the cost.
sasuke just snorts, jerks his thumb towards itachi. ）
That's his problem, not mine.
（ it's clearly a challenge. delivered with a tip of his chin, appraising. his speech is rough and rude, so much coarser than itachi's measured, politely chosen words and formalities. ）
[Delighted and doing his best not to show it—he knows how skittish unruly teenagers are, you can't let them know you're having a good time—Wei Wuxian gives Itachi's hand one last squeeze before he rises from the kotatsu, slipping his feet back into a pair of discarded house slippers and following his nose and ears to the kitchen.
It's empty at the moment which is probably a good thing as he isn't sure he's ready to face Itachi's mother while he's still trying to process Sasuke's everything, and he shoots him a sunny smile as he begins tinkering around the kitchen, learning where the various pots are kept and what kind of spices are on hand.
In the end he settles on congee because it's easy, customizable, and all of the ingredients are present and accountable.]
May I? [He gestures towards a wok, mentally working out how he'll season it. Definitely salt, ginger, and garlic, an egg to make it heartier. Perhaps some pork if he can find it, and chopped peanuts and green onions for garnish. Simple but tasty.]
（ the kitchen always seems to have what he needs. will he notice it? that, when reaching for something, it's simply there? will he recognize the power it suggests? yet, he has never flinched from what itachi can do, how many ways he could break him down in mind alone much less in body.
itachi closes his eyes. just listens, for a moment. to a conversation that can never happen, but feels so real to him that it's almost as if he had cast the genjutsu on himself. ）
Use what you wish, Wei Ying.
（ tacit permission — and more fully, there is an implication there. that this house, that he would have inherited as the heir to the clan, that this place where his family had lived and still do live in memory, is as much his friend's as his alone.
while the man works, sasuke talks to him. it feels indulgent. perhaps it is, in a way. but the complicated tangle of hurt and love and loss and anger and fury and shame and hate are still there, reflected in every word. it's in the way he asks about his last mission. in the way he pours itachi another cup of tea. it's just so completely, fundametentally who he is — beneath blood and bone and marrow. every word a barb, but not just to wound — to draw in.
sasuke asks him to train after they've eaten — and he starts to say maybe later— before he stops himself short.
nothing here is real. but it costs him nothing at all, to be kind. to his brother, who received so little of it from him.
and... to himself, who in his own mind had never received any consideration for such a sentiment at all.
so, he simply says all right. after breakfast, and leaves it at that. ）
[It doesn't take Wei Wuxian long to realize that the house provides, or rather, Itachi does. He chuckles under his breath and takes full advantage, adding green scallion pancakes to the breakfast menu and cooking enough for all three of them. The food might not do anything to nourish their bodies, but it will taste real. He divvies out a portion of congee for Itachi that he keeps free of chilis and then plates the rest of the congee and pancakes when everything is done.
Wiping his hands free of oil and flour, he steps back into the room where Itachi and Sasuke are speaking, and leans against the wall for a moment to simply watch them.]
The food is ready, [He calls eventually, eyes warm,] I hope it's up to your standards, Sasuke. [He adds with a teasing lilt, gaze inevitably drifting to Itachi settle on him.]
（ a simple statement, but it speaks volumes. the act and art of knowing, and being known. things like favourite foods, favourite colours, history and hopes all woven together like a tapestry. they have known each other for nearly three years, and somehow simultaneously a lifetime.
itachi rises, to help him fetch the dishes. they set the table together. sasuke, meanwhile, makes a sort of tche sound, and just holds out his hand for the bowl. manners, again.
but they talk, over the meal. his demeanour doesn't exactly warm, but most of the comments he makes or questions he poses to wei ying are bluntly practical. he does spend a considerable amount of time interrogating him about his combat capabilities, which he seems to consider the only adequate benchmark for the significant other of an uchiha. finally, at a question about swords — ）
Sasuke. Please refill the teapot.
（ and off he goes, clear exasperation not quite undercutting the familial devotion — or any of the other myriad things he feels towards itachi now. ）
[Wei Wuxian does a poor job of concealing a laugh, finishing the last sip of his tea and placing the cup back down on the table. When he turns to look at Itachi, there's a lightness in his body language that isn't often present, though if anyone has brought it out of him in his time aboard the Ximilia, it's certainly been Itachi.]
I really do love him. [He says, and it's half exaggeration, and half sincere.
Sasuke is rude and insolent, and clearly measures a person's worth more by their combative ability, but he loves his brother and is a sweet boy beneath it all. More than that, he is Itachi's, and for that alone he's won Wei Wuxian's heart.]
He and Jiang Cheng would have hated each other. [He laughs in earnest at the thought.]
（ to be honest, he's not certain sasuke would ever be someone to like people indiscriminately. even as a child, he could be surly and standoffish with those he didn't like. given what he knows of wei ying's brother, there would almost certainly be no lost love.
his focus remains on the kitchen, where he hears sasuke thumping around. looking for the tea, most likely. ）
Most likely.
（ but he doesn't think that it would have ever been a cruel sort of hatred. just bickering. annoyance. perhaps a bit of competitiveness. ）
He's the best thing to have ever come from the Uchiha.
（ even after everything, he never lost his ability to love. that speaks volumes in and of itself. ）
[Wei Wuxian can think of something else, or rather someone else from the Uchiha that might give Sasuke a run for his money, but Wei Wuxian is an older brother too, and not a fool. (More than that, he knows his own bias.) As Shijie was the best person to have ever lived, why shouldn't Sasuke be the best to come from the Uchiha?
He hums softly in understanding.]
He does like spicy foods. [It's spoken softly, silly, but not meant as a detraction. On this matter, he defers to Itachi.]
（ that statement pulls a laugh out of him, like drawing infection from a wound. ）
He does.
（ he closes his eyes in memory. ）
When he realized I didn't like them, he went out of his way to build his own tolerance. I think he was excited to beat me at something. （ at anything. because it was a way to get attention for something that was uniquely his own, and even then sasuke had craved that much. ）
（ he shakes his head faintly, warm amusement settling into his expression. to say it makes him look younger is inaccurate — it's more that he looks his age. ）
You've beaten me at shogi a time or two, as well.
（ wei ying and his chaotic, uncounterable playstyle, smh. ）
[That gets a laugh out of him as he remembers the first time he'd done it and the look of pure disbelief on Itachi's face. Disbelief not that Wei Wuxian had won, but over how.]
You're catching onto my chaos strategy now, [he pouts, eyes warm and playful] it's gotten harder to beat you.
Maybe that means we need to go swimming more often, for the ego boost.
I've been practicing that more often myself, you know.
（ look it's not like he ever needed to swim. when a bitch can walk on water and really only enjoys being submerged in onsen... and is also trying not to use chakra as a cheat code, smh. ）
Have you? [There's interest there, teasing, but also sincere. He always loves being challenged by Itachi whether in a game of strategy or an old fashioned race. And anyway, swimming has somehow become something they've come to partake in together quite often, or if not swimming then at least wading. From that first waterfall on Giva, to the more recent bioluminescent cove in the Golden Haven bay.]
Then on the next mission—[The last one, he doesn't say]—if circumstances allow, we should swim together again.
（ it's a little sound that wei ying, by now, should recognize as a sort of warm assent — and then he gets a faint touch of warning to the inside of his wrist, and a nod towards the door leading to the hallway, nearer the bedrooms.
his mother steps in and unlike sasuke, she is ageless. only a few years older than he himself now, wearing the apron he recalls her in most often. wei ying might be stricken by how strong the familial resemblance is between them — itachi always did favour her, but the warm and inviting smile she wears is the mirroring of an expression he would have seen perhaps only a handful of times on itachi.
she comes over to the low table, bending faintly so she can place a kiss to the top of his head, and then she moves onto wei ying and simply repeats the gesture without a trace of hesitation. ）
Ah, someone else's turn to cook, I see?
（ this is asked playfully right as sasuke returns with the tea, and takes his seat across from itachi. in his mother's presence, his attitude is instantly changed — the dutiful son, as he pours them all a fresh cup. ）
[Where seeing Sasuke had immediately brought Wei Wuxian's teasing older brother instincts to the surface, being exposed to Uchiha Mikoto is different. He grows quiet in a way Itachi has likely never seen, something like awe in his gaze as it follows her from the moment she enters the room. She's graceful in her movement, not unlike Itachi, and Wei Wuxian remembers that she's shinobi too, born and raised.
But more than that, her smile is beautiful. Uchiha Mikoto is beautiful.
(The smile conjures images of Shijie in his memory, a hand pressed gently to his cheek. It conjures images of another woman smiling too, face blurry and red ribbon spilling down long black hair.)
He inhales quietly when she kisses Itachi with motherly affection and then demonstrates the same gesture on Wei Wuxian, and his fingers curl beneath the kotatsu blanket, out of sight where no one can see it. For a second he looks entranced, and then he blinks himself back to the moment and ducks his head, shy and lifting a finger to rub self consciously at the tip of his nose.]
Ah, I hope you don't mind. It's never been my best skill, but I've been improving.
（ itachi, for his part, is content to sit quietly, one hand curled around his teacup. sasuke starts chattering about a mission, and his mother starts a line of parallel conversation with wei ying, asking him how the journey was to konoha, and if they'll be staying long.
it's — nice. it feels like home. and he knows that he could shatter this world with a thought, but the thought does no more than lie quiescent in the back of his mind. he does not even frame it to himself as doing something kindly for wei ying — although he enjoys seeing his friend in his colours and crest, in seeing the way his expression softens and how he hangs on mikoto's every word, this is ultimately a selfish thing.
he wanted wei ying to meet his family. to know them, inasmuch as he can.
his father's entrance is a bit more subdued, perhaps. he just steps in, weary, still wiping his hands on an old cloth that then gets tucked into his belt. he looks older than itachi remembers, or perhaps he just never realized the toll the possibility of a coup was taking on him. from him, itachi gets a respectful nod, sasuke a gruff pat on the head as he passes, and wei ying an appraising look. but he says nothing until he sits in his proper kamiza place as the head of the clan, hands resting on his thighs. then: ）
I see my son has made a friend.
（ that look on wei ying has a weight to it. fugaku reaches for his tea, which sasuke had so painstakingly filled, and he lifts it for a drink. ）
[Even the knowledge that Uchiha Fugaku does not actually reside inside of this illusion isn't enough to calm the drumbeat of his heart as Wei Wuxian watches him enter the room. Granted, it is a different kind of panic that overtakes him now, one born of fierce affection and determination (and only a small sliver of terror.) This is the man who raised Itachi, the father whom he loves. No matter what else lies between them, Wei Wuxian knows this much to be true.
And even if this isn't real, even if this is just an echo of things that could have been in another world, Wei Wuxian resolves to do his best to prove to Fugaku that his heart is true. This illusion might be the only way they get to have this, but that doesn't mean Wei Wuxian won't face it head on the way Itachi deserves.
When Fugaku's eyes come to rest on him, Wei Wuxian straightens and then he bows at the waist, raising his hands to perform the motions of a cultivator's salute. The bow isn't so deep as to be groveling, but deep enough to acknowledge the hierarchy between them and the proper respect that should be afforded his laozhang ren. When he raises his eyes again, they're warm and bright.]
I'm grateful to meet you, Shu shu. I am Wei Ying of Yunmeng, son of Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren. I am fortunate to have crossed paths with your son. He has indeed become my very precious friend. [His eyes flicker to Itachi and then away again.]
I would expound on the many reasons why, but I suspect he wouldn't enjoy that very much, so instead I'll offer my thanks and deep gratitude.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Does it? Then I should wear it more often. [He raises his tea, blowing on it gently before taking a sip.]
About what I was saying before, about living. I want to stay. But if I can't for any reason, then...then I'm still grateful for the time.
I think I understand myself better now. Even if I've long relinquished my regret, being here is still a gift.
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then: ）
Would you like to meet my family?
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Would you like to meet my family?
They have spoken of his parents on a handful of occasions, all before he'd known the truth. He looked more like his mother, he remembers. His father had been stern, but loving. A good man and a good father in spite of what the world demanded of him and the burdens lain on his shoulders. And Wei Wuxian has thought of Sasuke so often he can almost imagine him without needing any help. But sharing them like this is different.
For just a moment, his stomach flutters foolishly with the echoes of nerves. Would they have liked him? Itachi's parents at least, he already knows winning Sasuke's affections would have ben an uphill battle. He'd like to think he'd have won him over eventually even if it took years.]
Yes, I would like that.
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sasuke walks through the front door.
he's silent (he learned from the best) as he pads through the house, and when he enters the kitchen itachi's attention swivels to him, and. stops. there was a part of him that had expected — that his own mind would manifest sasuke at seven, the way he is permanently etched on the fabric of memory. he never needs to spare much conscious thought for the shape genjutsu takes, and tsukuyomi less so. the disconnect is startling.
but the sasuke that ducks into the kitchen is taller, broader, has a sword slung over one shoulder. he's wearing a gray shirt, with a purple obi belted around his waist. his hair is a bit longer, swept back with one hand as sasuke drops down beside them both. his gauntlets come off, the sword is leaned up against the table. no manners to speak of, but then — could a child orphaned at seven subsequently abandoned by the ninja world truly be expected to maintain decorum?
his heart has all but seized in his chest, and he is barely breathing.
sasuke pours himself a cup of tea without ceremony or preamble, and gives wei ying a sideways glance without comment. there is annoyance briefly visible in his features, but it's mutable. controlled.
he looks exactly as he did in that final fight against kabuto. except his eyes are dark, the weapon of the sharingan sheathed. ）
Oy, nii-san. What's for breakfast?
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He isn't anything like Jiang Cheng, and yet the words are so much like Jiang Cheng he has to raise a hand to muffle a soft laugh.
Little brothers, he thinks with so much affection his whole chest swells with it.
His eyes flicker to Itachi's in conspiratorial amusement, and the amusement immediately fades away into something softer. Ah. The hand under the kotatsu squeezes Itachi's once.]
I can make you something if you'd like, Sasuke, although if your spice tolerance is the same as Itachi's here, I probably shouldn't. [There's a soft teasing look in his eyes.]
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sasuke just snorts, jerks his thumb towards itachi. ）
That's his problem, not mine.
（ it's clearly a challenge. delivered with a tip of his chin, appraising. his speech is rough and rude, so much coarser than itachi's measured, politely chosen words and formalities. ）
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It's empty at the moment which is probably a good thing as he isn't sure he's ready to face Itachi's mother while he's still trying to process Sasuke's everything, and he shoots him a sunny smile as he begins tinkering around the kitchen, learning where the various pots are kept and what kind of spices are on hand.
In the end he settles on congee because it's easy, customizable, and all of the ingredients are present and accountable.]
May I? [He gestures towards a wok, mentally working out how he'll season it. Definitely salt, ginger, and garlic, an egg to make it heartier. Perhaps some pork if he can find it, and chopped peanuts and green onions for garnish. Simple but tasty.]
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itachi closes his eyes. just listens, for a moment. to a conversation that can never happen, but feels so real to him that it's almost as if he had cast the genjutsu on himself. ）
Use what you wish, Wei Ying.
（ tacit permission — and more fully, there is an implication there. that this house, that he would have inherited as the heir to the clan, that this place where his family had lived and still do live in memory, is as much his friend's as his alone.
while the man works, sasuke talks to him. it feels indulgent. perhaps it is, in a way. but the complicated tangle of hurt and love and loss and anger and fury and shame and hate are still there, reflected in every word. it's in the way he asks about his last mission. in the way he pours itachi another cup of tea. it's just so completely, fundametentally who he is — beneath blood and bone and marrow. every word a barb, but not just to wound — to draw in.
sasuke asks him to train after they've eaten — and he starts to say maybe later— before he stops himself short.
nothing here is real. but it costs him nothing at all, to be kind. to his brother, who received so little of it from him.
and... to himself, who in his own mind had never received any consideration for such a sentiment at all.
so, he simply says all right. after breakfast, and leaves it at that. ）
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Wiping his hands free of oil and flour, he steps back into the room where Itachi and Sasuke are speaking, and leans against the wall for a moment to simply watch them.]
The food is ready, [He calls eventually, eyes warm,] I hope it's up to your standards, Sasuke. [He adds with a teasing lilt, gaze inevitably drifting to Itachi settle on him.]
Yours isn't spicy, promise.
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（ a simple statement, but it speaks volumes. the act and art of knowing, and being known. things like favourite foods, favourite colours, history and hopes all woven together like a tapestry. they have known each other for nearly three years, and somehow simultaneously a lifetime.
itachi rises, to help him fetch the dishes. they set the table together. sasuke, meanwhile, makes a sort of tche sound, and just holds out his hand for the bowl. manners, again.
but they talk, over the meal. his demeanour doesn't exactly warm, but most of the comments he makes or questions he poses to wei ying are bluntly practical. he does spend a considerable amount of time interrogating him about his combat capabilities, which he seems to consider the only adequate benchmark for the significant other of an uchiha. finally, at a question about swords — ）
Sasuke. Please refill the teapot.
（ and off he goes, clear exasperation not quite undercutting the familial devotion — or any of the other myriad things he feels towards itachi now. ）
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I really do love him. [He says, and it's half exaggeration, and half sincere.
Sasuke is rude and insolent, and clearly measures a person's worth more by their combative ability, but he loves his brother and is a sweet boy beneath it all. More than that, he is Itachi's, and for that alone he's won Wei Wuxian's heart.]
He and Jiang Cheng would have hated each other. [He laughs in earnest at the thought.]
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his focus remains on the kitchen, where he hears sasuke thumping around. looking for the tea, most likely. ）
Most likely.
（ but he doesn't think that it would have ever been a cruel sort of hatred. just bickering. annoyance. perhaps a bit of competitiveness. ）
He's the best thing to have ever come from the Uchiha.
（ even after everything, he never lost his ability to love. that speaks volumes in and of itself. ）
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He hums softly in understanding.]
He does like spicy foods. [It's spoken softly, silly, but not meant as a detraction. On this matter, he defers to Itachi.]
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He does.
（ he closes his eyes in memory. ）
When he realized I didn't like them, he went out of his way to build his own tolerance. I think he was excited to beat me at something. （ at anything. because it was a way to get attention for something that was uniquely his own, and even then sasuke had craved that much. ）
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How very like a little brother! And so sweet. [Even when the laughter peters away, his smile is effusive.]
Although I'll admit I can relate. I think the only thing I've ever bested you at is swimming, and a handful of Go games.
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You've beaten me at shogi a time or two, as well.
（ wei ying and his chaotic, uncounterable playstyle, smh. ）
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You're catching onto my chaos strategy now, [he pouts, eyes warm and playful] it's gotten harder to beat you.
Maybe that means we need to go swimming more often, for the ego boost.
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I've been practicing that more often myself, you know.
（ look it's not like he ever needed to swim. when a bitch can walk on water and really only enjoys being submerged in onsen... and is also trying not to use chakra as a cheat code, smh. ）
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Then on the next mission—[The last one, he doesn't say]—if circumstances allow, we should swim together again.
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（ it's a little sound that wei ying, by now, should recognize as a sort of warm assent — and then he gets a faint touch of warning to the inside of his wrist, and a nod towards the door leading to the hallway, nearer the bedrooms.
his mother steps in and unlike sasuke, she is ageless. only a few years older than he himself now, wearing the apron he recalls her in most often. wei ying might be stricken by how strong the familial resemblance is between them — itachi always did favour her, but the warm and inviting smile she wears is the mirroring of an expression he would have seen perhaps only a handful of times on itachi.
she comes over to the low table, bending faintly so she can place a kiss to the top of his head, and then she moves onto wei ying and simply repeats the gesture without a trace of hesitation. ）
Ah, someone else's turn to cook, I see?
（ this is asked playfully right as sasuke returns with the tea, and takes his seat across from itachi. in his mother's presence, his attitude is instantly changed — the dutiful son, as he pours them all a fresh cup. ）
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But more than that, her smile is beautiful. Uchiha Mikoto is beautiful.
(The smile conjures images of Shijie in his memory, a hand pressed gently to his cheek. It conjures images of another woman smiling too, face blurry and red ribbon spilling down long black hair.)
He inhales quietly when she kisses Itachi with motherly affection and then demonstrates the same gesture on Wei Wuxian, and his fingers curl beneath the kotatsu blanket, out of sight where no one can see it. For a second he looks entranced, and then he blinks himself back to the moment and ducks his head, shy and lifting a finger to rub self consciously at the tip of his nose.]
Ah, I hope you don't mind. It's never been my best skill, but I've been improving.
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it's — nice. it feels like home. and he knows that he could shatter this world with a thought, but the thought does no more than lie quiescent in the back of his mind. he does not even frame it to himself as doing something kindly for wei ying — although he enjoys seeing his friend in his colours and crest, in seeing the way his expression softens and how he hangs on mikoto's every word, this is ultimately a selfish thing.
he wanted wei ying to meet his family. to know them, inasmuch as he can.
his father's entrance is a bit more subdued, perhaps. he just steps in, weary, still wiping his hands on an old cloth that then gets tucked into his belt. he looks older than itachi remembers, or perhaps he just never realized the toll the possibility of a coup was taking on him. from him, itachi gets a respectful nod, sasuke a gruff pat on the head as he passes, and wei ying an appraising look. but he says nothing until he sits in his proper kamiza place as the head of the clan, hands resting on his thighs. then: ）
I see my son has made a friend.
（ that look on wei ying has a weight to it. fugaku reaches for his tea, which sasuke had so painstakingly filled, and he lifts it for a drink. ）
Well, then? What do you have to say for yourself.
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And even if this isn't real, even if this is just an echo of things that could have been in another world, Wei Wuxian resolves to do his best to prove to Fugaku that his heart is true. This illusion might be the only way they get to have this, but that doesn't mean Wei Wuxian won't face it head on the way Itachi deserves.
When Fugaku's eyes come to rest on him, Wei Wuxian straightens and then he bows at the waist, raising his hands to perform the motions of a cultivator's salute. The bow isn't so deep as to be groveling, but deep enough to acknowledge the hierarchy between them and the proper respect that should be afforded his laozhang ren. When he raises his eyes again, they're warm and bright.]
I'm grateful to meet you, Shu shu. I am Wei Ying of Yunmeng, son of Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren. I am fortunate to have crossed paths with your son. He has indeed become my very precious friend. [His eyes flicker to Itachi and then away again.]
I would expound on the many reasons why, but I suspect he wouldn't enjoy that very much, so instead I'll offer my thanks and deep gratitude.