As far as family rules went, she broke the most solemn one. The one that goes unsaid forever, but will always be enforced. Never brought up, never referenced nor ever truly explained. The particular rule that hung over their family's house since the early days of its founding.
You are born inside the family; you survive inside it and you will live forever contained within it. Your friends, your acquaintances and your lovers will share your surname; they will share your features and your blood. You do not live as an Uchiha and expect true freedom.
But she did. She broke all the rules. She ran out of the house, away from her engagement and her siblings three. She damaged her father's pride, she embarrassed her mother and it didn't just end there. She may have run off with a European man to travel the world, but when she came back one New Year's Day to see what she could mend of her family ties – and she introduced the Uchiha family to their first halfbreed in well over a century.
Two years old with chubby arms and wrists, he had a thick head of curly brown hair and the faintest dusting of freckles marring the feature that the Uchiha prided most— his pale skin. He was a thick-chested infant with wide imploring eyes, who rested against his mother's breast quietly and occupied himself with her dangling earring.
He did not see the insides of the estate that day, nor did his mother. They left, returning to France with her face red but her dignity intact. Shisui wouldn't hear much of his distant relatives in the years to come, nor would he wonder much of them. He was embraced by his father's side, and although he had no siblings and only a few cousins, he was content with his life.
He first heard of his grandfather's passing while coming inside through the kitchen after school, overhearing his mother from the doorway as he passed it. She was sitting neatly on the sofa by the phone, barely moving as she held the receiver to her ear. She was expressionless and speaking softly, staring down into her lap.
"So the funeral will be the coming weekend?"
He set his bag down beside his feet, leaning tentatively on the tiles of the counter while keeping his ear towards the living room. A list of relatives and friends began to run through his mind, the thought of someone he knew being dead was rather strange. It sat unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach.
"Thank you for telling me, Mikoto." A pause. "Good bye."
Mikoto? He blinked, trying to place the name. His mother's sudden presence startled him, as she entered the kitchen looking slightly distant. When she laid eyes on him it took a moment for her to register he was there, and then she stood silent before moving towards the kitchen island.
"Mom," he asked, "who was that?" He couldn't really deny he had been listening in at this point. And curiosity would always get the best of him.
"Ah, she was… She was a relative of mine." His mother replied, touching the fruit bowl and beginning to organize it. "Mikoto, from Japan." Shifting apples and oranges apart, she swallowed hard and then sighed.
"My father—your grandfather, has passed away." She said this with what seemed like uncertainty, not in the fact but in what she had to do with it now. "He'd been sick for a few years, now."
"Oh." Shisui said, tilting his head. He didn't know much at all about his grandfather. He never corresponded with him, or talked to him on the phone – hell, he wasn't even sure he'd ever heard the man's voice. "Are we going to go to the – uh…" He scratched at his neck, unable to get a reading on what his mother may be thinking.
"I don't know." She said with her eyes downcast. "I don't know."
His father would not be coming because of business, at his mother's request. She tried to persuade Shisui to stay in France as well, but he insisted on coming along. Not because he cared about his grandfather, not because he had an interest in Japan or his cousins but because he wanted an excuse not to take his end of year exam. But he feigned interest in his Asian roots, propping up his textbook against the seat before him on the plane.
The words blurred, and he looked over to his mother who was not without that look again. Almost scared, fidgeting with her purse like she wasn't quite sure what was heading her way. She hadn't cried, not that he'd noticed, over her father's death. But even still, she was determined to be there for his funeral. Perplexed, he turned his nose back into his book and tried to distract himself from thinking too much.
The first flight was short, teasingly so. Changing planes in Germany didn't take very long at all, and they didn't even have the opportunity to pause in the airport to grab a coffee or something to eat. Shisui was famished by this point, eager for what he could get off the snack cart and happy to see dinner be served on the flight. His mother didn't have much of an appetite.
It was when they stretched their legs in the American airport that Shisui began to regret his decision to come along. He was tired as he boarded the plane for Tokyo, and only looked worse when they came off of it on solid Japanese soil. All he wanted to do was sleep, or eat something to stifle the nausea that was making his stomach swim.
His mother went for their luggage while he hugged a stone pillar, feeling worse the longer he remained upright. When his mother returned to his side she looked concerned, and touched her hand against his cheek with a frown.
"Honey," she said – before looking up in surprise at something behind him.
He turned his head to see a Japanese woman approaching them, a young boy on her arm and her hair tied neatly back in a bun. She had a simple blouse and a knee length skirt, but no jewelry besides a thick wedding band on her finger.
"Hello!" Mikoto said, smiling much to Shisui's mother's surprise. "[Welcome to Japan!]" She gave his mother a brief one armed hug, and the young boy grabbed at her earring. "[Sasuke, no! Let go of that – Oh, I'm terrible sorry Akane. He's in the stage where everything's just a toy… Oh, no—Sasuke, give that back to her.] "
She ended up handing Akane her earring back after Sasuke had pulled it free from her ear. "[I haven't been able to wear jewelry for over two years. Itachi never grabbed at things like this… ]" She said apologetically to Akane before pausing, noticing the confused looks she was getting.
"[What's wrong?]" She asked.
"[N-Nothing.]" Akane said. "[I'm just… so surprised. I didn't expect… you know.]"
Shisui averted his eyes as his mother sniffled, touching at the corner of her eye to stop a tear from forming. He was absolutely clueless to this conversation, gravitating away from the two women and closer towards the large garbage bin by the benches.
He'd never learned Japanese.
He was fluent in English and French, but knew absolutely no Japanese. He would've, in a clearer mind, perhaps asked someone for directions towards the restrooms. He might've thought to ask his mother or Mikoto, whoever she was to him. Except he didn't, wouldn't and couldn't because instead he was hunched over the rim of the garbage bin vomiting airplane food onto newspapers and Styrofoam cups.
Not the best way to meet your other cousin; the slightly older one.
Wiping his mouth he straightened up, trembling lightly but feeling better. He laid eyes on a boy a bit younger than himself, whose dark eyes cut right through him with a look of utter scorn. He was standing close, and parted his lips to say something before seemingly retracting it – narrowing his eyes before trying again.
"[Are you] Shisui?" He asked, words jumbling together in Shisui's mind. He only recognized his name, if barely that.
"Huh? I'm… Shisui?" He knit his brows, speaking French in reply.
This perplexed Itachi, who again looked as if he were about to say something but decided not to. "What about English? Can you speak it?" He finally said aloud, breaking the language barrier.
"Yes, I can." Shisui said, biting his lip. "Who are you?"
"I'm Itachi Uchiha," replied Itachi, "your cousin."