Disclaimer: Sadly enough I do not own the Uchiha clan… or anything Naruto related, actually. Dang, does that depress me. :(

1. Cooking

Sad to say, I must admit that I can't cook. I'm a terrible cook. I'm so bad I wouldn't even feed my cooking to my worst enemies (actually, I probably would). But really, it's pretty bad. Of course, it isn't like a Shinobi actually needs to be able to cook. It's just a useful skill. Not essential or anything. It just drives me insane that I can't do something.

Espeically when that something can be done by my little brother. Because Sasuke, you see, cooks better then my mother. And he's all of eight. I mean, our mother doesn't even cook anymore. Why does she need to, when she has Sasuke?

Though I must say, watching Sasuke cook is one of the best things in the world.

Being an Uchiha, Sasuke is an insanely talented, kind of reserved kid. Being himself, he dedicates himself completely to whatever he is doing at the time, and he remains cool and calm and emotionless, as well as very, very intense on what he is doing.

My baby brother is eight years old. And I have never seen someone take cooking so seriously. I swear that he considers cooking just as much a technique as any gen or ninjustu. And despite the fact that he does it the same way every single time, watching him never gets old.

So on this particular day, I pull up a chair, straddling it with my arms resting on its back, and watch as my little brother gets ready to cook.

He comes into the kitchen, his eyebrows drawn down on his forehead, his lips pursed, his eyes sharp. That child does not look like he's eight. With deliberate steps, he walks over to the counter, and opens one of the drawers underneath the counter, pulling out his very special apron. Typically of Sasuke, the apron is black. Completely.

After he puts the apron on (triple tying it in the back, as always), he carefully pins his bangs back, two pins on each side, so that his hair won't fall in his face. Somehow he always manages to get his bangs pinned back in exact symmetry. But that's Sasuke for you. Once his hair is safely pinned, he washes his hands thoroughly and pulls out all his special pots and pans. And they are most definitely HIS. He gets very, very angry if anyone else uses them.

He arranges his pots and pans in that careful way that only he understands, then begins pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and baskets and nooks all around the kitchen.

My eight-year-old brother removes his very special kitchen knife from its place among the kitchen utensils, and begins chopping up vegetables, meat, and whatever else he is putting in the soup he's making. All his actions are precise and practiced, and the look on his face makes it seem as if he's performing surgery, not cooking.

Then, to my surprise, he starts talking.

"Cooking is like jutsu in a lot of ways. If you get it wrong…well, it doesn't work."

...And why in the world was he talking to me about cooking?

"But it's easier than jutsu, of course. Because you don't die if you make a mistake. And once it's done, you get to eat it."

...Right. That was deep. But he's only eight, so I give him a break.

"I see," I say politely, arching an eyebrow at his back.

"If you are so good at jutsu, why are you so bad at cooking?"

"So blunt, little brother."

Sasuke turns his head and fixes me with a full-out Uchiha glare. Goodness, that boy is getting good at that. He hates it when I call him 'little brother.'

"Well, you're terrible at cooking."

That's kind of a fact, so I don't bother denying it. "True."

Sasuke stops for a moment, turning around while his onions simmer in the pan behind him.

"Why do you cook the onions before you put them in the soup?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Just do."

So loquacious, him.

I motion towards the food behind him. "Do continue. I like watching you. You're so mature when you cook." I know he can hear the teasing tone in my voice, but he ignores it, studying me with his black eyes, his lips pursed in a clearly thoughtful manner.

Finally, he speaks, turning back to his pots and pans. "Get up."

Again, I arch an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"Get up. You're helping me."

And who does my baby brother think he is, to be ordering me about?

"Excuse me?"

My brother may be an Uchiha, but he's also a scheming little scoundrel, and when he really wants something, he's going to get it, no matter what he has to do. So he turns around, juts his bottom lip out, just slightly, makes his eyes go huge, raises his voice an octave, so he sounds younger, and says, "Please?"

Stupid baby-face Sasuke.

Trying to pretend that it is actually my own decision, that I'm just indulging him and not falling prey to his stupid little kid pleading face, I stand up and let out a deep sigh, making sure to sound as bored as I possibly can, "Fine..."

That baby face quickly turns into a smirk that is downright evil.

But I still go to stand beside my little brother, who barely comes up to my chest, and he hands me his special kitchen knife.

Whoa. That was big. Both literally (I swear the knife is as big as my arm) and figuratively (Sasuke never lets anyone touch that knife).

I take the knife, and he points to the remaining vegetables. "Cut those up," he says. "Not too big, not to small."

I do as he directs, and watch him as he starts going through our spice cupboard, pulling out jar after jar and sniffing them. Really, what type of child does things like this at age eight? When he gets a bit frustrated because he can't reach some of the spices, I go ahead and grab them for me. Typically, he doesn't bother thanking me. This is Sasuke we're dealing with, after all.

Once I'm finished chopping vegetables, he directs me to put them in the main pot, which I do. Then he fries a countless other things I would never have thought to put in a soup, and tosses all that in the pot as well. Really, I thought you only needed one pot to make soup. Not three pots and four pans. Goodness, I have a strange sibling...

After Sasuke seems satisfied with the vegetables and meat, he starts adding spices. He measures them as precisely as he does everything else, then carefully stirs them into the soup.

Then he is done.

He washes the pots and pans out with a deliberateness that makes me laugh as I regain my seat and watch him, holding back my teasing comments for the moment, since I'm not entirely certain that he won't pick up that enormous knife and throw it at my head.

When he is at last satisfied with the cleanliness of his utensils, pots and pans, he comes and he stands in front of me, regarding me with a seriousness that defies his age. I don't speak, because I can tell that he is contemplating something very deeply, and so for a moment, the two of us are wreathed in silence.

Then, eventually, he says, "You know, I don't actually know how to cook. "

...All right then. I hadn't been expecting him to say that.

I just raise my eyebrows at him.

"I just pretend like I know what I'm doing," Sasuke tells me, "And somehow, it always turns out right."

Then he walks away, just like that, leaving me to wonder exactly what the point of that whole thing was.

But somehow, I can't stop myself from practicing later that day. And later that week, I cook a meal for my family.

No one died.

It was weird.

A couple weeks later, our mother explains to me that Sasuke, no matter what he may act like, needs me to be better than he is. I am his older brother, after all. I have to be better, so that I can always protect him. And I have to be better at everything.

Even cooking.

Hmm. That was probably awful. Oh well.

Oh, and I love reviews! They bring me joy.

Huh... So I went back and reread this... It's not my favorite. But I minorly edited a few parts, and now it's a tad better, though I could still DEFINITELY use some work... I shall have to return once I finish this whole thing...

Many and much thanks to all!

~SNake