Chapter 3 - Academy
I started attending the Academy at an early age. Well, early compared to the "commoners" – a rather derogatory name that many members of the Uchiha Clan called those who weren't blessed with a superior battling ability. Just when I was slowly accepting the fact that niisan was never going to come back, I began training to become a shinobi, like my brother was before me.
With my brother gone, I had to be the strong one of my family. Father wasn't getting any younger and Mother had ended her career as a kunoichi long ago… and she had, sadly, contracted a fatal illness. Just like Toshi was, I needed to be strong so that I could protect my family and village. Eventually, my parents would be unable to take care of themselves, soit would eventually fall to me to be the one to take care of them like they took care of me.
As such, I made sure to dedicate myself to my Academy course work. While the other students, who were all older than me, were making friends and having a good laugh while enjoying their childhood, I worked hard and stayed quiet. The Academy was where I would acquire my survival skills, so I listened attentively to each and every lecture. I always handed in my homework on time and I always trained on my own, doing extra exercises whenever I could.
Because of my workaholic attitude, I always scored top marks. Although I never considered myself as a prodigy, I was always seen as one. I was practically no different to Hatake Kakashi, who had graduated last year, despite being only a year older than I was. Then again, he was also known as a child genius.
Even so, I never met the silver-haired son of the White Fang during my time at the Academy. It was only years afterwards when I met and befriended him. Kakashi eventually became one of my closest friends and was a constant presence throughout my life, until my untimely death, of course.
Oh - now that I remember - I am dead now. I am currently recalling the faded memories of my past, a ghost that lingers in the void between the living and the dead, a ghost that waits to cross over into the afterlife. It's a surreal feeling, realising that I'm pretty much dreaming my life while I fall into an endless sleep. If, somehow, my soul is still attached to my washed-up corpse of a body, I would bring up a self-mocking sneer and shake my head contemptuously.
I suppose that was just who I was: an easily amused person. Even in the darkest times, I never failed to find the slightest thing to cheer myself up, just like Toshi had superbly said back when I was only an infant.
"If you are going to eat the salad, you might as well eat it with a smile. Whether you like it or not, Mother will not have you not eating the veggies." He gave a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows, pleading with my wailing infant self with twinkling eyes.
"Why cry? Smile."
I still remember his all-knowing grin and the way I stopped my bellowing at that bowl of grass in front me. I can clearly picture his triumphant face as he picked up the chopsticks again, preparing to feed me what now seemed like a nicely arranged mixture of raw plants.
"You know, you might grow to like the taste of it."
Throughout my life, I always learned everything by copying others. Toshi, for example, had said "ah" causing me to copy what he was doing. Before I knew it, Toshi shoved all that way-too-healthy manifestation of organic green – which reeked of disgusting earth – past my parted lips and down to the pit of my stomach.
Well said, Toshi. Well said. If one is going to die, why die with a frown and not a smile? I have no idea. But the fact is that frowning uses up more muscles than smiling. I was a lazy guy – the less I could do, the better. I chose smiling. With that said, I never grew a liking for my veggies.
I had learned to eat them for the sake of eating them, only because I needed to have a healthy diet to keep myself at my top form for the work I did. You liar, Toshi! After all these years, I did not grow to like the taste of vegetables!
To be honest, I don't really remember much about my time in the Academy. I made some friends, but when I advanced to the next class, I left them behind, never to make any contact with them again. In just nine months time, I had skipped the two preparatory years and graduated in April by the end of that academic year.
There was one particular lesson, however, I would never, could never, forget.
The graduating class went on a field trip to the memorial stone. Sensei had taken a chance to explain the difficult situation we had during the Third Shinobi World War. Lives were lost and blood was shed. There were young men and women – too many of them – who had died young, way before their time. His name was on there, too. Uchiha Toshi. I hated seeing his name up there, but knew the honour that went with it. However, I wasn't the only one who noticed niisan's name. And then, it happened.
"Oh my god, Shisui. Your brother's Uchiha Toshi."
I can't even remember who the boy was, or what he looked like, but I always vividly recall what happened. A member of the class had shouted that, and Sensei mentioned that niisan was one of the first shinobi to sacrifice his life during the War, dying valiantly to protect our country. Sensei graduated when Toshi did – they knew each other quite well, in fact.
"How cool is it that he took a thousand men with him to his grave? I wish I had a brother like that!" the boy had excitedly exclaimed. He was smiling, almost laughing; admiring what he thought I had. To me, he was mocking everything my brother stood for.
If he spoke like that, he was most likely an only child. He didn't know what he was saying, with the morose implication accentuated beneath his innocent and sincere words. Even if we were young children, that particular fact never crossed my mind when I heard his insensitive words.
Without any warning, I charged at the boy. Using the Body Flicker, a technique I had become able to effortlessly perform, I appeared behind him, placing the edge of a kunai on his throat. Just when I was about to slice his throat open, Sensei had stopped me, paralysing me with a Genjutsu. The boy was shaking in fear, tears flowing from his eyes as he begged for mercy. Maybe I was wrong in acting so rashly, since he didn't know what he did wrong.
I dispelled Sensei's Genjutsu using the newly awoken Sharingan – though I didn't know how I did it at the time. After I did, I dropped the kunai and stood there, too shocked to even move. All I could remember at the time was that dreaded intent to kill that child. If Sensei wasn't able to stop me in time, that boy would have been my first kill. It was a chilling thought.
Even worse, I would have become the reason behind two more parents mourning over their child's untimely death.
I was lucky to take the forthcoming graduation exam afterwards, because without the Hokage's assistance, I would have been suspended for at least a year, if not longer. He understood why I acted the way I did, having heard what happened from Sensei. Sensei begged for my pardon, but I could still see the barely-hidden disappointment he felt for me whenever he looked me in the eye after that incident.
At least Sensei would speak to me. My father refused to speak to me for a whole year. He didn't attend my graduation ceremony at the Academy, either. I was the top student who graduated with the best scores. I was the Rookie of the Year, but that didn't matter to my father. He was rightly disappointed in my outrageous behavior, but he wasn't the only one.
So was I.
