On the first day afterwards, Sasuke didn't feel too much like an orphan. Yes, there were these things. Yes, there were these funerals and meetings and funerals -- there were waves of funerals because Itachi had killed so many people. It was, in fact, so bad that there was a scramble for not only grave space but fresh flowers for funeral arrangements and mourners.
Sasuke remembers this one particular afternoon when he was walking away after the group funeral of a batch of classmates of Itachi's who had been murdered together because they were bodyguards for a Uchiha diplomat. The woman who was minding Sasuke at the time told him to brush some of the dirt off his pants before he got into the car to go to the next set of funerals, and Sasuke remembers realizing that some of the dirt that he was shaking out of his clothes and onto the sidewalk outside the graveyard came not from that funeral but the one for his parents in the morning, that the car that had brought the casket to the graveyard had been the same one that had brought his grandmother here when he had been four years old and was attending her funeral wutg not only his parents but also with Itachi.
So yes, there was all this, and there was also this new apartment that they kept trying to convince him to live in instead of the Uchiha house proper. And there was also the way his eyes ached, the way his funeral clothes had felt too tight across his shoulders, and the way they had picked up dust easily because they were black.
Sasuke can't sleep the night after the first day of funerals. He can't get used to the Western-style bed or the feel of air conditioning on his skin night – the Uchiha house had been an old-fashioned, traditional one, and the woman who is taking care of him ends up sending a messenger to the Uchiha house on the outskirts of the village to come and bring Sasuke's futon up to the apartment because he keeps insisting on sleeping in it.
They go out onto the balcony, and the woman sits down on the ground and wraps Sasuke up in the futon. The crickets are calling down below, and the stars are shining over the faces of the rock faces at the north end of the village. A breeze springs up in the night air, and Sasuke leans his head against the woman's knee, his face pressed to her side and her fingers stroking his hair and her voice singing a low sort of lullaby as she weaves a healing jitsu that's will soothe Sasuke and send him off to sleep more easily.
And because of that and because of the fact that he's been on his feet since before dawn and has not had a rest until now –- because of those, it's not until Sasuke is just lingering somewhere beyond exhaustion but before sleep that he realizes why his futon smells so strange: it's been soaked with his mother's blood beyond the ability of detergent and a day's of washing to remove it. And the reason it feels so strange wrapped around his shoulders is that the futon has only been half sewn up. Sasuke had torn it when he was putting the blankets away the morning before last, and his mother had been in the middle of mending it when her firstborn son had arrived at the Uchiha compound.
It's not until that moment that Sasuke realizes that he really is an orphan and that he'll stop being one even if all the healing jitsus in the world are put on him.