Author's Notes
This story may just be a one-shot, I'm honestly not too sure.
But it evolved out of a feeling I've had for some time: Itachi is, in every sense of the word, a hero. From the day he's born, he devotes himself to the village, hardly receives recognition for it, and dies, trying to make his brother into a hero. His love for Sasuke is one of the most beautiful aspects about Naruto, and – I'll be honest – I'm a man, and when Itachi died, I cried. Not teared. Bawled. So there's my honest confession.
I love the character of Itachi. He's developed superbly by Kishimoto, so kudos to him.
Information that's relevant for this chapter:
Sensei can refer to either a teacher or a doctor.
Chapter 1
Uchiha Fugaku had never been more proud. Finally, after four attempts, he and his wife Mikoto were successful. His visage was positively beaming as he entered the premises of the Uchiha complex. Walking through the street, he would receive gracious nods and smiles from everyone. The birth of his first child. It was a moment unlike any other.
He took a deep breath, relishing the warm night air. June Ninth. He'd remember this day. Opening the door to his house, he saw the doctor finishing up tests. Placing a kiss on his wife's beautiful forehead, he whispered in hear hear, "How are you?"
She smiled, exhausted from the whole ordeal, but after mustering up the strength, she responded "Fine. Sensei, how is the child?"
The doctor smiled. "He seems mostly healthy. There is a slight discrepancy in some of his blood tests. He seems like he's type AB, the universal recipient, but some scans are finding some type A cells. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it myself."
Fugaku frowned. He himself was type AB, and Mikoto was A. "Is it serious?"
"I can't say for certain. It could develop into a serious autoImmune disorder, especially if his body begins to reject some of his own blood. He'll have to live off of transfusions his whole life. But then again, it could also just be nothing. We'll just have to wait and see."
And without another word, the doctor left to treat another patient. It was a somber realization that, after all the anticipation, the clan heir may not be cut out for the tasks that lay ahead. That perhaps he had placed too much pressure on a mere idea: the idea of his first son.
In the weeks leading up to the delivery, Fugaku's daydreaming would get worse. He'd escape to fantastic realms where he and his son would spend hours dwelling on the past stories of famous Uchihas, basking in the glory that was their clan. His son would be stellar in all matters concerning jutsu – and why wouldn't he? He was the heir, after all. And one day, he would take his father's place. But perhaps it was not meant to be.
The patriarch shook his head. No. There was no definitive proof of anything as of yet. It would not do to uselessly contemplate about issues he could not control – even worse, about issues that were, as of yet, not even issues. He kissed the child warmly on its tender cheek. No, his son would accomplish all that and more. It was only a matter of time.
…
Mikoto tearfully caressed her child. It was impossible; too awful to be true. She read and re-read the doctor's reports, wishing if she just read it enough the letters would somehow morph and change what was fated to be. 'His chakra coils are reacting malevolently to the dual blood types. They're entering an oscillatory phase where they swell beyond recognition and immediately afterwards shrivel. The long term projections are not optimistic. Based on our analyses, he may lose the use of chakra entirely in 12 months. By 16, he will be paraplegic. And in 24 months time, he will almost certainly die.'
She looked over her husband's stoic visage. Time had taught her to read the minute hieroglyphics that occupied his countenance. He seemed preoccupied. Looking at the moon, she prayed all night. What was another sleepless night when a child was dying? Measuring his temperature, she noted he already had a fever. She jumped upon hearing her husband speak, breaking the long silence.
"He will live." He declared.
She smirked, wiping a tear. Just like him to simply state something utterly nonsensical when it defied all logical reasoning. She didn't bother asking why. He had his reasons. She had hers.
"He will live," he continued to reassure her. "They said I was sterile, and yet, here he is." He calmly kissed her cheek. "He will live." And with that, he returned to his studies.
She tried to look over at what it was he seemed so immersed in, but her pried kept her. Even after six years of marriage, the man could intimidate her at times, and she didn't want to get caught staring. So they continued to play the game of 'who's-less-interested.' But it wasn't meant to last. Chuckling, her husband calmly put her mental queries to rest.
"They're historical documents... Tracking every illness an Uchiha has ever had. I'm trying to find similarities to his case..."
A faint blush came to her cheeks. Oh. That's why he was confident the boy would live. She sighed, realizing once more how exhausted she was. Two days in and the child was already this much trouble.
The baby giggled as she touched his bellybutton.
She kissed her prince goodnight.
…
And so to everyone else, normalcy returned. The head of the Uchiha clan had given birth to a boy, one slated to be the most powerful Uchiha yet. Whatever rumors of infertility on Fugaku's part were squelched, and the drama ended.
The naming ceremony went off without a hitch, which in and of itself is miraculous considering the whole clan came in grand fashion. Nonetheless, everyone was pleased. 'Itachi', they called him. True, it was... unorthodox. A weasel often signified ill omens and misfortune to come, but, as Fugaku joked, all the better for a ninja! After all, if he became a foreshadowing of doom for his enemies, then he was sure to bring laurels to himself and the clan. And with this explanation, the inquiries stopped. It was rude to push after all. From an outside perspective, everything was progressing splendidly.
But on the inside, the marriage was crumbling, and Fugaku and Mikoto were more distant than ever. It was a slow and painful process, as most things in the world are. So imperceptibly laggard that the first few signs were mistaken for the opposite. Yet, as the months wore on, it would become patently obvious to both...
The relationship was maturing, Fugaku decided. Yes, they were no longer newlyweds; the honeymoon effect had worn off, and ultimately, the baby-effect, as he called it, had, too. The exciting 'new's' had come and gone, and things were now passing. Itachi was now one month old, and things had begun changing.
Like sex. They were no longer having sex. They were serious parents now. No more of the mushy, gushy stuff. No, Mikoto was spending time taking care of Itachi – which, Fugaku very logically deduced, was impossibly draining. After all, just spending two hours with the boy when he got home everyday left him drained. And he was making progress on Itachi's condition. That in addition to all the clan meetings they were having recently, coupled with the stress of a Jounin's life left him... isolated.
Besides, it wasn't like married couples could simply continue being disgustingly in love. This simply wasn't a fairy tale. They were the heads of the entire clan, the strongest clan in all of Konoha – probably the world, he reminded himself constantly. This was a good thing.
Mikoto was... content. Yes, she was content, she repeated mentally, unsure of whom she was convincing. They attended parties once in a while, when they had time, and overall, things were progressing. Sure, she hadn't had a decent conversation with her husband in Kami knows how long, and the only person she ever spoke actual words to was 30 day old boy who cried incessantly, and her sleep schedule now consisted of the three goddamn hours in the day he wouldn't be crying, but she was happy. Definitely. Definitely happy.
"Fugaku..." she approached him one night out of desperation. "Let's... let's go away. For two days. Let's have Okaa-san look after him, and let's just escape. I need a break."
Her husband smiled sadly. He understood her feelings – well, maybe not, but he could imagine the stress she was feeling. But it was simply unheard of for the clan head to take 'time off' and runaway. "You know that's impossible, Mikoto-chan. The clan meetings, the missions, and researching Itachi's condition... These things take time."
She didn't push it further. He was probably right. But in the back of her mind, a peevish voice came up. 'Why not? Doesn't he have vacation time? The clan meetings can run just fine without him, and someone else can do the research...' But she ignored the voice. It just seemed too... What was the word Shikaku used? Troublesome. That was it. The whole spontaneity thing just seemed too troublesome.
As Fugaku sat back on the couch, he silently wished his wife would have pushed a little harder. He very much needed a break, too. The mind numbing amount of history he had already gone through compared with the clues he had gotten (none, by the way,) made the whole situation seem futile. But he couldn't simply forsake his only son. They were a serious couple now. This was maturity, he thought as he repeated his mantra.
…
Things continued in much the same limbo for another month. The signs were creeping so slowly on the horizon that, honestly, the turbulent mountains on the horizon didn't seem any bigger. Two years still seemed so far away – they had 22 months left. And with everything going on in their daily lives, they barely had time to think of next week, never mind next year or some distant date in the future the doctor had warned about.
But projections are merely educated estimates derived from models that make certain assumptions. Models are just tools used to boil down an infinitely complicated world into several variables, making the real-world problem easier to handle and more manageable. And a model is only worth as much as the assumptions it makes.
In hindsight it seemed to obvious that the stagnant waters of their lives would inevitably become torrential rapids, but at the time, it just seemed so much easier to... go along with their repetitive routines. Thinking, planning, and constantly being on the lookout for trouble just seemed so... troublesome.
So when Itachi was 9 weeks old and he began vomiting blood, the strains on the marriage became manifestly obvious. Despite Fugaku's yelling and cursing, the doctors, though terrified, could not (surprisingly enough) change the way science worked to magically cure the child. His projected lifespan was reduced to just one year.
And with news came a sudden sense of urgency. Everything was put on the back burner as their son's life took priority. No more 'Miko-chan,' or 'Fu-kun'. No more kisses when they arrived home. It was officially crisis time, and in place of a husband and wife, two crazed maniacs took over. No one could blame them. After all, the loss of a child is an indescribably tragic scenario that few should have to go through. Perhaps it was just fated to be.
The next day Fugaku resigned from his ninja duties, asked his father to step in for him as clan head (just temporarily, he promised,) and locked himself in the basement with the sacred scrolls. And there he stayed for the next seven days.
Meanwhile, Mikoto tried desperately to contact every known doctor both inside and outside of Konoha. She no longer cared what the others would say or what they thought. The veil of normalcy was dropped entirely; she had a son to save. After writing hundreds of letters and sending nearly every bird the Uchiha clan had at its disposal out on deliveries, she turned her efforts to Hokage. Surprisingly enough, the Hokage replied that he did not have the expertise in this matter, but that another person within Konoha did – the recent village hero, Namikaze Minato.
Even three weeks prior, she would not have known the man's name. He was a hot-shot superstar, recently rising in the ranks and earning recognition. Still, it was surprising that some young Jounin knew a great deal about a subject that the Professor himself did not. Most recently, he had earned recognition for his valiance and courage during the Third Great Shinobi War. Apparently he was a Fuuinjutsu master unlike any other, and his efforts were vital in tipping the balance against Iwagakure.
She knew Fugaku would not approve. From the rants she had heard him give, there was no doubt he and Minato had tenuous relations at best, but she had no other choice. Especially if this treatment required a form of kinjutsu. She paused, considering what conditions he'd ask for, or how this would make the clan look. The powerhouse clan of Konoha, down on its knees, begging Namikaze for his assistance. They'd owe him. Big.
She shook her head. It didn't matter anymore. It had been three days and the child hadn't stopped vomiting. Three doctors were there at all hours giving him blood transfusions, which didn't seem to be helping at all. His fever hadn't come down any, and for most of the day he was barely conscious. When he was, the baby was too exhausted to even cry. Motionless, he lay there, wheezing desperately for air.
It was heartbreaking.
…
"You WHAT?" He hissed, trying to keep his voice down.
"I had to. There was no other option." She justified, barely keeping from sobbing.
All pretenses were long lost. Fugaku had emerged from his solitary studying to no avail, and none of the letters Mikoto sent out proved useful. The Hokage was the only one willing to be of service.
"H-He doesn't want any conditions. Nothing. He just wants to help, Fugaku." She pleaded. Of course it would come to this, she knew, but she hadn't had time to think of anything to say. Part of her doubted that anything at all would convince him to along with this idea.
"He's been pushing for the past six months for a motion to change the voting procedure in the council. He's stripping away permanent seats on the council! He wants it to be an egalitarian, modern system while we uphold the entire police force. Does this seem like a man who doesn't have doesn't have strings attached? Tell me, Mikoto, am I wrong?" The decibel level did a complete turnaround. He was now speaking barely above a whisper, slowing down in some areas for emphasis.
Mikoto swallowed, unsure of what more to say. True, Minato had been pushing for council reforms. True, he wanted a more egalitarian system. But she wasn't a politician. She wasn't sure what exactly were the details of the motion. She wasn't sure what the appropriate counterarguments were. Most importantly, she didn't know what she could say without betraying the Uchiha creed.
"And in a couple months, they will be electing a new Hokage. Minato Namikaze will be a front running candidate. We are the only thing stopping him from a smooth succession. And you just begged him for help?"
So, she used the only argument at our disposal. "He's our son. He has months to live, maybe less. As a mother, as a woman, what am I supposed to do?"
"As a woman? And what, I have no feelings for my son? Have I just been on vacation for the past couple months? Don't pretend you're the only one with something at stake here – I've spent every waking hour pouring soul into this."
"To what avail!" She screamed, finally – she couldn't help it anymore. "You men and your Uchiha pride! What does it matter if after all of this we've lost our son? Will the clan be happy? I hope so; it seems that the elders' opinion is all that matters to you!" And that was when she realized she made her mistake. She had spoken too much with pride, too little with tact. That momentary lapse would hurt her, no doubt.
The trick to arguing with her husband was one she learned long ago. However, much like the Sicilian Defense in chess, it required a tremendous amount of patients and long-term stratagem. Slowly setting traps, weakening his defenses, getting him to bait specific traps, and finally turning the tables. If one got too greedy and went for the kill prematurely, the whole trap would be wasted; even worse, you'd be left defenseless.
SLAP.
It was the first and only time Uchiha Fugaku would ever raise a hand to his wife. Certainly, as a former Chuunin, Mikoto had received worse. Honestly, he didn't even hit her hard. But that wasn't really the point.
In his mind, that moment was forever frozen. It would be years until he forgave himself for that, and by then it would be too late. The reasons why he just hit his loving wife escaped him. All he felt was an inescapable, insatiable void that left him with a profound emptiness.
He looked up at his wife; she was holding her palm on the same cheek, still utterly shocked. A single tear was streaming down her beautiful cheek. He desperately wanted to kiss her and make this entire incident go away... to just escape the madness that seemed to be swallowing their household. Back to the fields of Mist country, back to the cabin they occupied during their honeymoon... back when everything was right.
Searching for the right words, he tried to strain out an apology, but it just came out as one of his ugly grunts. He cursed his throat. It seemed that he was cursed to morph every sacred beauty in his life to a disgusting perversion. He craved the humility that would allow him to apologize, if only this once. Twenty eight years of living a royal lifestyle endowed him with many talents, but being apologetic was not one of them.
Gently, his wife laid Itachi on the futon and quietly slipped upstairs, closing the door. Soon after, he could hear the sobs.
…
Konoha's hegemony over the other nations was solidified with the ending of the latest great shinobi conquest. Having torn asunder most nations sufficiently, forcing Kiri and Mizu to very favorable settlement agreements, and fortuitously grasping a more-than-fair share of land, its empire was – needless to say – enjoying the spoils of victory.
With peace upon the major countries, trade negotiations became success stories rather than the stagnant fairytales they once were. Merchants flocked to the Land of Fire, and its borders were opened once more as security concerns dampened in favor of economic growth. All were content. All except one man in particular, whose mood grew more foul by the day.
Wrapped in bandages that concealed Kami-knows-what, he silently stepped into the underground laboratories where several experiments were underway.
"Danzou-sama," a slithering character spoke up, smiling. "What a pleasant surprise."
Despite all the disagreements he had with the snake, they had more commonalities. Both, at one point, desperately wanted to be Hokage. Certainly, they were strong enough. Both were unafraid of traversing beyond customary restrictions and labels. "Kinjutsu" was nothing but an illusion set forth by fools used to peacetime. Then, during war, those same fools would beg him to reinstate to formerly forbidden 'kin' jutsus.
There was just one tiny, almost irrelevant detail. Danzou was a Konoha loyalist to his core. While many may disagreed (and some still do) with his methods, it was always irrefutable that he loved and cherished the hidden village. Unlike the foolish daimyos, he understood the harsh realities of having an empire. In the shinobi world, people killed or they themselves were killed. Wars were postponed, not avoided. International relations were a facade to bide time for the appropriate moment to strike.
In Danzou's world, there was no peace. Just inter-war preparation periods. And he was not going to be a damned political fool that played the savior role while undermining his homeland's supremacy. If that meant he had to take up dirty work and play the role of the 'bad' guy, then so be it.
After all, someone had to do the numerous assassinations that kept the satellite countries in line. Someone had to intimidate organized drug cartels into using their leverage for Konoha's benefit. Someone had to take the fall for the numerous human rights violations that were 'discovered,' so the village could save face and the Hokage could continue negotiations.
He snorted, thinking of all the idealistic, naïve fools out there. Thinking they were safe. Thinking that a strong Hokage was sufficient to keep the thousands of sadistic groups from attacking them. The Hokage with his limited authority meant nothing in the real world. If they wanted to make two villages – one that used all the secret, illegal information that his operations uncovered while another lay vulnerable, then fine. It was the Root and their numerous unacknowledged sacrifices that allowed for this so-called era of peace.
Call him what you will, but Danzou was immovably dedicated to the village. Unlike a certain Sannin he was forced to work with currently.
Orochimaru wanted the title purely for his own experimental concerns. He could give a snake's ass about the village. His own twisted concerns with immortality were paramount to the exclusion of all else. Which brought him to the most recent dilemma. Orochimaru's attempts for the title of kage. Deep down, Danzou knew he could convince the elders that, given his track records and likelihood for playing outside the books, Orochimaru would not be a Hokage that would extend the resiliency of Konoha's arduously earned diplomatic ties. But that would mean a man shrouded in mystery and laurels from the people would become Hokage. A man he had absolutely no leverage over.
And that was crucial. With Orochimaru, he was guaranteed a set of reforms that would put the village on the right track. In the worst case, he could leverage certain... pieces of information against the man to ensure an outcome favorable to him. Orochimaru was known and predictable. Minato, even if he had a chance of being a better leader, was not known. Not predictable – at least for Danzou – and certainly above blackmail.
Which meant his hand was forced. Even if he'd only become kage by proxy, Orochimaru was still the best outcome. What's more, the man knew more about bloodlines and transmutations than anyone in his networking. Ultimately, it became necessary to work with the vile beast. Not that he could afford to let Orochimaru know any of these thoughts. His experiments, unlike the fool's, were necessary to solidify Konoha's standing.
"Pleasure is all mine, Orochimaru-san. Did you get the Uchiha body?"
And they all revolved around the Uchiha clan...
…
A golden-blonde, spiky-haired Hokage stepped out the room.
The deep crimson locks of his wife swayed as her head turned away from Uchiha Mikoto, whom she was consoling, to her husband. Her deep green orbs scanned her husband's visage for the appropriate cues.
Signing some papers, he sent the doctors on their way. Looking up, he gave an inquisitive look. Why was everyone being so serious? "Oh, I forgot to tell you." Then, abandoning all protocol, the man gave the Uchiha couple a thumbs up, grinning like an idiot. "It was a success!"
The tension in the room evaporated instantly.
Kushina was busy smacking her husband. "You forgot! You flaming idiot! You. Flaming. Idiot!" She kept punching him quasi-playfully. Then, turning to Mikoto, she was swallowed in a deep, very un-Uchiha-like hug. The matriarch was sobbing incomprehensibly. She stroked her back, whispering "It's all better now. Everything's fine. Shhh, everything's better..."
In his entire life, Uchiha Fugaku had never felt more out of place. He and his wife hadn't spoken since the incident – which meant a painful 168 hours during which not a single intelligible grunt, sigh, or word was exchanged. Instead, she left the complex entirely, seeking refuge at Kushina's household. Minato's household, he reminded himself – a man who, only a week before, had been a complete stranger. Taking Itachi with her, the house had never felt more empty. He could hardly walk two steps without being reminded of her. Something that belonged to her. Something she loved. He sighed. He could no longer count himself in that category... things she loved.
Now, with Kushina comforting his wife, Minato still taking care of hospital procedures and other medical minutia, he stood there, unsure of what to do. Part of his brain was still comprehending the fact that his son was cured. That his prince would finally be okay. His pride was muttering something about comparing Minato's capabilities to his own – that despite the hundreds of man hours put into the problem, he was left helpless while Minato spotted the solution in three days, taking another four to actually implement it. This man they may one day call Hokage... he was far beyond his ability.
He frowned. This was not the time. Mentally shaking his head, he noted that perhaps there had never been a time. His pride was the reason this entire incident occurred. If he had just listened to his wife from the beginning, none of this would have happened. They could have just approached his help from the beginning and he could have saved everything. His son would have been spared weeks of horrific, grueling illness. His wife needn't have cried every night for hours on end. His marriage... his marriage could have been spared.
Now? He was a failure in every aspect. A shinobi asked to resign so that "he could more adequately attend to domestic affairs." That's what the note Hokage-sama had given him said. At the time, he had scoffed at the old Sarutobi's judgement. Who was he to judge the state of affairs of another's household? A father who almost let his son die for pride. A husband who raised a hand to his dutiful and loving wife. He had lost it all.
He was shaken out of his thoughts when Minato patted him on his shoulder, smiling. The Jounin was reaching out a hand. "Congratulations, Uchiha-san. It seems that you will be a father for quite some time!"
Peaceful aquamarine eyes met turbulent crimson.
Fugaku blinked. He didn't even realize he'd activated the sharingan. But his dojutsu had revealed what his pride had concealed. Eyes that were genuinely, truly kind. Eyes that didn't have any sort of strings attached. Eyes that were looking out for his son out of concern, not calculation. This man, who was a decade his junior, had the wisdom he still had yet to truly grasp. Sadly smiling, he nodded, shaking the Hokage's hand. "Thank you, Namikaze-san." He managed to choke out as he fought a strange feeling in his chest.
Then he heard his wife whispering to Kushina. "Do you mind if I stay for a bit longer?"
"No..." he whimpered a bit louder than he had meant to.
He realized everyone heard when a sudden silence overcame the room and he felt six pairs of eyes boring through him. Bah, to hell with it. The elders could screw themselves; there was a time and place for conduct, and this was not it. If anyone disagreed, well, he'd take it up with them when the time came.
Abandoning all semblance of control, prestige, or pride whatsoever, the man fell on his hands and knees, bowing awkwardly. "I'm sorry... So very, very sorry. Mikoto, I've been an awful wreck of a man, a humiliation of a father, and a disgrace of a husband. But as bad as it's been..." That feeling in his gut kept growing. Was he sick? He wasn't sure. It was a feeling unlike any other. Something he hadn't experienced in a long time... But he had to continue. "I've... I've been worse without you. I-I can't bear the thought of going on any longer. The home, everything, everywhere I go, I'm reminded of you. P-Please... Please, just come home. I miss you. I'll change. Anything you want, I'll do... Please just come home." And then he realized what the feeling was.
He was crying. Uncontrollably. He tried to look up but the tears obscured his vision, so instead he just remained on the floor at the mercy of his wife.
Surprisingly, it was Minato who spoke up. Despite the glares from his wife, he decided to continue. "Come now, Mikoto-san. All is well again. Young Itachi is fine, the crisis is averted. It's time the family become whole again."
And before anyone had a chance to say another word, the recently declared village hero teleported them all back to the Uchiha household where, to her credit, Kushina was already preparing dinner.
Fugaku, still facing the floor, saw a pair of sandals in front of him. Looking up, he saw the obscured image of his wife. He felt a gentle hand on his cheek that wiped away a stream of tears.
"Come on, Fu-kun. Itachi needs to be changed."
Half laughing, half still crying, Fugaku swore on that moment to never be the same man again.
…
Two months had passed since that time, and virtually all traces of Itachi's illnesses had faded, as if the boy never even had a life-threatening disease. In that time, normalcy had returned to the Uchiha household. Well, a new normalcy. True to his word, Fugaku remained a changed man. He and Mikoto started sharing a bed once more. He'd tell her about his days, keeping her in the loop, and she would provide input on all household decisions.
He decided that perhaps modernism wasn't so bad. Of course, when he approached his father about all this, he received the same statements he'd heard all around him. Marriage had been fine for hundreds of years. This is the way their clan had operated since before Konoha was even established. It had been functioning fine. It worked.
But he didn't want a functional marriage. He didn't want a marriage that simply worked. He wanted to be married to Mikoto because she made him ecstatic. Because she set him on fire every time she simply entered the same building as he. He wanted a superb marriage, and if that meant his loving wife was supposed to get an equal say in things, then Kami-be damned he'd do it.
Explaining this to the elders, well, that was a different story. And so Fugaku took the lead for the outside world, making most of the public decisions. At night, however, when they retired for bed, the two discussed at length. Even disagreements turned into prolonged deliberations that ended in either compromise, concessions, or … many adult activities which resulted in Mikoto's victory.
Baby Itachi, much like his parents, was making progress as well. He was nearly five months old by now – 17 weeks to be precise. And his developments were astounding. Already, the boy was rolling on his back and could roll back on his stomach. He could respond to people's voices, and was particularly attuned to Mikoto's. He'd laugh and imitate sounds they made, and could hold objects now.
When Fugaku returned home from his Jounin duties, the scene he'd be greeted by was a completely changed household. Before, it was not uncommon for his wife to be sobbing while Itachi would lay barely conscious. In the mean time, he'd try to attend to the boy, but whatever he did only backfired.
Now? He'd come and see his baby holding onto his mother's index finger, giggling as he played peekaboo or perhaps enjoying a story of famous Uchiha tales. He'd laugh when his father would pick him up and twirl him around in a tight embrace. He'd cry when his favorite toy was taken away. He'd fuss when they fed him some vegetables he didn't favor. All in all, his household became whole once more.
Chuckling, he thought of the young Namikaze Minato, a man who Fugaku had once deemed an enemy to the Uchiha clan. He briefly dwelled on the Sandaime hokage, who Fugaku thought would demand concessions and only help under strict political cooperation. Both had been tremendously generous.
Who knew? Perhaps the man would make a decent Hokage afterall.
…
"Hokage-sama?"
"Namikaze Minato."
The room was at a standstill. Hiruzen, considered to be a shoe-in for his former star pupil Orochimaru, just succeeded in shocking the room once more. Thoughts were racing through the room. How could he switch his vote? Does Orochimaru know?
The sneering shock on Orochimaru's face answered that question.
Even the daimyo, supposedly moderating this voting procedure, was silent. If only for a moment. They then proceeded with the rest of the votes: the head of each clan given a vote, as were each of the elders. Danzou's influence with Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane allowed them to sway most of the elders into voting for Orochimaru. Nonetheless, the clan heads almost unanimously favored Minato.
There were only two, notoriously anti-Minato heads left to vote, and their decisions would be critical.
"Hyuuga-san."
"Namikaze Minato," the old, experienced Hyuuga leader elegantly articulated. He then turned, as did the rest of the room, to the only swing vote. A newly appointed leader just months before. He knew a fair amount about Uchiha Fugaku.
The man had an above average shinobi success record; hell, anyone who was still alive as a shinobi had an above average success record. He'd heard some stories about his victories on the battle field. And from the limited interactions he'd had with the man, he'd say the man was fairly level headed... Well, as level headed as one could be for an Uchiha. Perhaps it was time he, too, was succeeded by his son.
The Hyuuga elder's thoughts regarding Hiashi were interrupted as the moderator then turned to Fugaku.
"Uchiha-san?"
If someone had asked Uchiha Fugaku, 32 days ago, whether or not Namikaze Minato, a young, arrogant superstar should become Hokage, Fugaku would have slapped them upside the head and asked them for a harder question. After all, what were they thinking? That moron?
But if that same person had asked Fugaku, 30 days ago, whether or not Namikaze Minato, a caring, wise, and fearfully powerful leader should become Hokage... Well, Fugaku would still would have slapped them upside the head and asked for a harder question. Because after all, what were they thinking? How could they, even for a second, doubt that moron's capabilities. He smiled, looking back on it all. Perhaps it was simply fated to be.
"Namikaze Minato," he firmly responded.
So, how was it?
Anyone who has advice on writing Itachi, I really welcome it. I also haven't read Naruto in a while, so any details/things revealed since then would be nice.
The next chapter, if it does come out, will be more along the same lines - chronicling his childhood, probably up to the age when he joins the academy.
I hope you enjoyed it! As usual, advice/reviews/any comment is always welcome. Thanks for reading!
