so, okay, i wrote another sioc. sue me. however i figured i might as well write another one because with Akira i've been rereading what I've written for him and he's not really an sioc. so here we have another attempt of mine at putting myself into a verse i have no business being in.
Warnings: This fic will deal with mental illness, disability, Konoha's shitty mental health system and ableism. Why? Because the author is autistic and writing an autistic character boo-yeah.
The ship will be Fumio, said sioc, and Shikaku.
Fumio is four years old, stacking blocks with his mother, when his father comes in with the clan head.
Fumio blinks and takes a long look at Yamanaka clan head, noting his blue eyes and blond hair before going back to his blocks. His mother stops playing with him and goes to speak with both the clan head and Fumio's father.
Fumio ignores the fact his mother left and continues playing. The adults in the room shot worried looks at him while speaking in hushed tones.
Fumio hears them anyway and is content to let them work out their theories and try to figure out why he hasn't spoken yet. They won't guess the reason why, and Fumio has no desire to let them in on his secret.
They wouldn't believe him anyway. Having memories of a past life? That was absurd. Even by ninja standards.
Yet here Fumio was, stacking blocks in a world he once deemed fictional with the memories of nineteen years of a different life in a different world.
To be honest, Fumio thought the entire situation is a bit fucked up. He has no doubt that should others find out they would think it fucked up as well. After all, here he is, barely an adult and trapped in the body of a preschooler.
It's all kinds of fucked up Fumio thought only existed in horror stories from people who shoved Lovecraft's work up their ass.
Apparently, he was wrong, as he is currently living out a scenario he never thought possible. Sure, as a child in the Other World he had daydreamed of having fantastic adventures. But now that he is in a world where he could have fantastic, life threatening, adventures Fumio just wants to go back to his shitty apartment in a city so cold only a million people lived there.
But Fumio can't do that, so he stacks blocks and doesn't speak. He hardly sees the need too, he can get his thoughts across through writing and hand gestures well enough. There's no reason for him to speak so he doesn't.
Maybe he wants to save that part of him, he can't give this world everything. That would just make it permanent.
He does not want his stay in this world to be permanent. Logically, he knows he died, that a mugging went wrong and he was killed by a stranger. Logically, he doesn't think there is a way for him to get back to where he once was. Even if there was, nobody would recognize him in this body.
Going back would be pointless, and yet Fumio holds on to that spark of hope that one day he'll be able to go back.
Still listening to the adults conversation Fumio places one last block on his tower.
He promptly knocks it over to get their attention when he hears the words 'mind-walk'.
Like hell he is letting anyone in his head.
Fumio stares hard at the three wide-eyed adults.
"No," he says firmly, voice hoarse from disuse, and he shudders in fear at the knowledge he just might be stuck here now, "No."
His mother approaches him slowly, as if she's afraid he'll run away.
Fumio does feel like running, but he's learned the hard way in the Other World that running from adults only gets you in trouble and hurt. So he plants his feet firmly, shoulder width apart and meets his mother's gaze.
"Can you repeat that?" she asks, her eyes holding both hope and confusion in her eyes, "Can you repeat that?"
Fumio sighs.
"I said no," Fumio says, "No one is allowed in my head. No one."
The clan head raises his eyebrows.
"Not even me?" he challenges.
Fumio glares. The clan head doesn't seemed bothered by it.
"Not even you," Fumio says.
The man laughs, Fumio's father looks furious.
"Are you telling me," Fumio's father says, "That you could speak this entire time?"
Fumio thinks for a moment, weighs the pros and cons of telling the truth.
"Yes," Fumio says finally, his father's cheeks are flushed and his lips are pursed. All signs of anger Fumio knows.
Fumio wonders what is going to happen next. His father is a kind man, but anger makes even the most kind men unpredictable.
His father takes a deep breath. Fumio wonders if he's trying to calm himself.
"Why," His father asks, "Didn't you speak before?"
Fumio shrugs.
"Didn't see a reason too."
The clan head, Fumio doesn't know his name, laughs again.
"You sure one of you aren't a Nara?" the clan head asks, "Because we see cases like this all the time with the Nara."
His mother's eyebrows shoot up.
"You do?" she asks, "Do they wind up...slow?"
The clan head's laughing mouth turns into a frown.
"Some of them," he admits, "There are those that aren't. But even then most of them never become shinobi despite the fact that they may be skilled in one area of the shinobi arts and not the others. It's as if they just aren't interested in the rest of it."
Fumio snorts. It's called a special interest bitch.
Fumio's mother casts a worried look at him.
Fumio ignores it and goes back to playing with his blocks. He begins counting them for the hell of it.
One, two, three…
"Are you saying that my son has no chance of being a ninja?" Father.
Four, five, six…
"No, he could still be one. But people like him are more suited to working at home. It's possible that should he become a ninja he wouldn't be successful one." Clan head.
Seven, eight, nine…
Fumio grits his teeth as they continue to talk about him as if he isn't there and wonders if he should become a shinobi out of spite.
Then they'd have to pay attention to him.
In his past life he had done many things out of spite, most of them had turned out well for him.
He wonders if being a shinobi would turn out well for him too. From what he remembers of the anime he watched most shinobi were self-sacrificing idiots and the best ones wanted to die.
Fumio has a bleeding heart, he could be self-sacrificing if he wanted to. Fumio also has no qualms about losing his life.
Fumio thinks he would be a good shinobi.
"Dad," he says, interrupting whatever conversation his father and the clan head where having, "I'm gonna be a shinobi."
His father blinks, the clan head looks startled.
The clan head bends down to Fumio's level and studies Fumio for a moment.
Fumio meets his gaze head on.
"Are you sure about this little one?" the clan head's voice is gentle, concerned, Fumio thinks he sounds like a father, "You'd have to start at the Academy next year."
Fumio meets the clan head's gaze head on and nods.
"I'm sure," he says, "I'm sure."
Fumio starts the Academy at five. He is one of the only other Yamanaka's in his class.
The other Yamanaka is bouncy, cheerful, Fumio knows his name is Inoichi before he even introduces himself.
Every Yamanaka knows the clan head's son, the boy says hello to everyone.
Fumio is no exception.
"Hello," the boy says, smiling widely, "I'm Inoichi! Dad told me to look after you!"
Fumio blinks.
"Okay," he says, not letting his surprise show, "Why?"
Inoichi blinks, before scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"I don't know," he admits, "But I'm okay with it! You seem like a cool person!"
"Okay," Fumio says again, "You seem cool too."
Inoichi beams.
"Thank you!"
Fumio almost sighs. It's not like he doesn't like Inoichi, it's just that he doesn't know how to make conversation with the boy. Or anyone for that matter. His conversations with people tend to be one sided, with the other person pausing at moments where Fumio is suppose to say something. However, it's only later does he realize what all those awkward pauses were for.
Ah, the shortcomings of neurodivergence.
Fumio gives Inoichi a small, awkward smile.
The air around Inoichi seems to get brighter if possible.
"I think we're going to be great friends!" Inoichi says.
"I… think so too?" Fumio says, making it seem more like a question than an affirmation.
Inoichi hooks their arms together.
"Come on," Inoichi says excitedly, "I'm going to introduce you to my other friends!"
Fumio lets himself get dragged along and wonders what he's gotten himself into.
Fumio already knows who Inoichi's friends are, they are Shikaku and Chouza.
Fumio doesn't tell Inoichi he knows who his friends are lets the other blond introduce them.
"Shikaku, Chouza," Inoichi says, his arms still linked with Fumio's, "Look! This is the cousin I'm suppose to watch over."
Shikaku gazes at Fumio with something unreadable in his expression.
Fumio stares right back at him until the Nara finally gives in.
When Shikaku looks away, Fumio hides a smirk behind his hand.
Chouza blinks at the exchange between them and looks to Inoichi who just shrugs.
"I'm Fumio," Fumio introduces himself, "Inoichi didn't give my name."
Chouza blinks and extends a hand for Fumio to shake.
"Nice to meet you," Chouza says, "I'm Chouza. The one you had a staring contest with is Shikaku."
Fumio shakes Chouza's hand too quickly for it to be polite and nods toward Shikaku.
Shikaku makes a grunting noise.
"I'm Shikaku," he says, "But you already knew that."
Fumio wonders if Shikaku has a stick up his ass the size of an Uchiha's ego.
He doesn't have long to ponder that thought before the bell rings.
Fumio winds up sitting through the entire class next to Inoichi, who, apparently, takes his job as Fumio's guardian way too seriously. He doesn't let Fumio out of his sight during break and Fumio wonders if he should make a game of getting Inoichi to try and find him.
It'd be good stealth practice, he thinks.
In the end, he doesn't do it. But only because he runs out of time during break while wondering if it would be possible for him to climb his way onto the roof and hide there.
He vows to make Inoichi look for him next time though. If the clan head wants Inoichi to look out for him Fumio is going to make it hard for them.