Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto

-BAD APPLE-

4. Testing the Waters

I had devised a master plan to test my parents.

"Don't," said Obito and Rin as one unit that bore my well-being in mind.

I waved them away. "Pass me the tomato sauce."

Rin looked at Obito—stop the kid!—and he, misinterpreting her look, handed me what I asked for. "Thanks." I fumbled with it for a second. "Can you make sure they're not both back at the same time? I want Otou-sama to come back first."

Obito blinked. "Fine, but I'm not helping you clean anything up."

"That's fine," I allowed. Obito and Rin exchanged one last glance before they both left. I hoped they actually held up their end of the deal. I dragged the dining chair to the sink, tomato sauce held in hand. And I waited. While I was not a chakra sensor, I could detect emotions—human emotions, that is. The more familiar I am with someone, the easier it becomes for me to detect that person.

I assumed Obito would be the one looking for Minato. And sure enough, he was already at the Hokage's Tower—which wasn't that far from here. I fell sideways, kicking the chair out while I was at it. The wooden furniture clattered to the ground deafeningly, nearly masking the sound of glass shattering.

Red on the floor, a prone body—to any ninja, it would've looked like a murder scene. Assuming my parents could see through the fancy props, I could use the convenient excuse of 'organ failure'—something which hadn't happened for a long while now.

Then there was the matter of being able to tell my state from my breathing pattern. Hopefully, their panic would work in my favor and mask some of it. Though, certainly, I'd be regulating my breathing to make it seem as if I was having trouble breathing.

There was a hard tug at the back of my mind—and the next thing I knew, Minato's spiritual energy was a whole lot closer.

"Mi—RAI?!"

Minato screamed like a little girl. That sound was so pitiful I stopped breathing altogether. I probably could've garnered a more interesting reaction if I hadn't choked on laughter. "Mirai," His voice was almost back to normal. Almost. He could barely keep his bewildered anger in check. "What—were—you—doing?"

And that was how I knew my father loved me.

(Real effective method. Do try it at home. A gun and copious amounts of legitimate replacements for blood should do the trick better than tomato sauce and broken glass could.)

I peeled my face off the ground and looked at him; his face was as white as sheet and I felt a sting of regret beneath the complacent amusement. Minato crouched to swipe away some of the sauce on my cheek. "Did you trip and fall? Why didn't you get up immediately? Where's Rin or Obito?" There was a hard edge in his tone that made it plain he was unimpressed about his students' absence.

"I'm playing dead."

Minato stared at me. Annoyed, now. "You mean … this was staged? And everyone was in on the joke?"

"No, yes—no." Minato cocked a brow in askance. "Okaa-sama isn't in on it. I want to get her next. So go away." That said, I flopped back onto the ground.

"Your first mischief and you aim straight for a heart-attack from your victims?" he asked incredulously.

I pointed at the door. "Go. Away."

"This won't end well."

…

Naturally, he was right. He was a genius, after all.

Kushina did not take the prank—I mean, test—in stride like my easy-going father had. Probably because she hated being the punch-line to a joke and how I'd managed to fool her better than I did Minato. She screamed loud enough to crack glass when she finally arrived at home.

Her anger was not abated by relief that it was only a prank. She railed at me, denied Obito and Rin the privilege of dinner, and sentenced Minato to the couch for a month. There goes Naruto to nonexistence in a hand basket. Oh, and I was punished for the first time in my life as Mirai.

I was so shocked she would do so that I remained perfectly still for the first five minutes of my timeout in the little corner at the living room.

She didn't make me clean up the mess. Because both she and Minato were too overprotective; as I was fragile in their eyes, they treated me not unlike young civilian babies. Marks of bad shinobi parents, I'm telling you.

"Mirai."

Startled, my tongue darted out guiltily. A nervous habit I couldn't be rid of from my past life: I licked my lips when I was anxious. I glanced suspiciously back at my father who sat sprawled on the couch, his haori slung on the couch, off his shoulders for once.

"Repenting, I hope?" He was smiling.

Hmph. Making a big show of crossing my arms in petulance, I turned away. I just wanted to test them. But Kushina had not given me a chance to explain and I doubted it would end well if I told her the purpose of the test.

(Love me?)

(Got to keep them on their toes after all)

"What were you hoping to accomplish actually?" he continued, despite knowing I couldn't answer during time-out. He was probably hoping to goad me into speaking to prolong the punishment. Well, I won't fall for it. "Were you seeking our attention?"

Shrewd. He was too shrewd. I turned partially towards him; he was the only one in the living room, making sure I didn't break from line, as Kushina was bathing. "I know…" He looked away, uncomfortable by my silent, piercing look. "I know I don't spend as much time as I used to with you … but that doesn't mean I care any lesser." He rubbed the back of his neck, expression troubled. "If you can't handle our divided attention, maybe you're not ready for a younger sibling. I mean, newborns need the extra attention so—"

Asshole. Benign as he appeared to be, as much as he was my father, he was a cunning, clever shinobi before: he was goading me. Testing me as much as I tested him.

"I was lonely," I interjected coolly.

"Rin and Obito were here," Minato pointed out.

"Making moony-eyes at one another, yeah, sure. By all means, it was a nice setting."

Minato turned his cheek, to the clock, and hummed noncommittally. "Time's up." He sprang to his feet. His movements, as always, were quicker than lightning; he was in front of me before I knew it. "Let's get you cleaned up."

We were halfway to the bathroom before I realized what he meant. I squirmed and struggled, catching his skin with a mighty kick that, for all it did, could've been an ant ramming into it. "No!" I shouted, face reddening in indignation. "I was punished already!"

"This isn't punishment," said Minato, mouth twitching. I hissed like a wounded kitten, wrenching on his bangs. Ineffective. He dragged me up to the bathroom and knocked. "Kushina?"

"I've filled the tub," chirped my mother's voice. Then the door was flung open. She positively beamed with malice. "It's been awhile since we bathed together—and didn't you want to spend more time with us?"

"No!"

I had endured years of helpless humiliation at their hands when I couldn't clean myself, much less bathe. The moment I could, I had refused their help and bathed alone. I hated being seen bare, regardless of whom. Minato knew as well as I did that I would view it as punishment. Which was to my parents' favor.

"Oh, sit still, Mi-chan!"

"Okaa-sama, stooop!"

"Does Mi-chan need help with reaching his back?" Minato mocked.

I swiped at his eyes with soap suds.

He sighed.

~{IV}~

Two days after the "Play Dead" incident was the first day of school.

Kushina had to wrestle me out of the house as I was being difficult. Minato suggested Hiraishin but Kushina insisted this could be killing two birds with one stone—a brief tour of the village and we could reach the Academy in no time.

Why was I being rebellious?

Because it, for the first time, sunk in I was going to be a shinobi. Though I tried to take it like a mature adult—accept and process this prospect—I couldn't stop myself from degenerating into the thought patterns of a child: I was all pumped-up to learn new jutsu and be the best shinobi there was.

I was scared of that childish attitude.

Children all pumped-up like that were usually the first to die. And I was having too glamorous a life to want to kick it so quickly.

Furthermore, the effort needed to be exerted from my hapless body was immeasurable. Though I hated partaking in tedious and strenuous tasks, if I was somehow forced into it, I would still despise losing and falling short of the best, the better.

(Sometimes, I really, really hate how contradictory a creature I am)

"Nervous?" Kushina pinched my cheeks. Her face was kind, loving. "I remember walking through the property-line for the first time myself," she began, pointing up ahead where parents and children alike congressed. Minato had gone ahead, as was expected of the Hokage. "I had no one at that time; I was the only foreigner and I had red hair to top it off too. It was an absolute nightmare. Kids picked on me for that. You're different, you're lucky."

I was about to ask, with no little amount of sarcasm, what was so lucky about my situation when Kushina pointed once more.

I followed her line of sight and immediately, my minor apprehension was wiped away. My grip on her hand loosened.

But Kushina grinned like she was the one with ninshū, like she was the one who knew what went on in my head. "Go," she said and pushed me forward—towards the little black-haired, pale-skinned boy with eyes darker than black.

I slanted a grin behind me before I darted ahead of her.

"Chi!" I tackled the boy, squeezing Itachi in a tight hug; we hadn't seen one another in nearly two weeks. He has his clan training and I didn't want to bother him. I knew he had it tougher than I did though he'd beg to differ and insist I had it way tougher.

Mikoto laughed. "Mirai, it's nice to see you made it today." She slanted an amused look at her firstborn. "And Itachi was worrying over if your parents will let you enroll into the Academy."

I grinned at my friend. Had he been like any other child, Itachi would've kicked his mother for dropping that embarrassing tidbit of information but he merely allowed a frown to slip through. I couldn't stop myself: "Aw, if Chi wants me to, I would've followed him to the ends of the earth."

Surprise flickered over my godmother's face before softening into one of pleased approval. "That's…"

"Thank you for the offer," Itachi interjected before his mother could gush or say something embarrassing to his prodigious ego. Out of habit, he held my forearm—in case I collapsed, he could instantly prevent me from losing my first kiss to dirt. "We'll see you after the orientation?"

"Yes," rumbled Uchiha Fugaku, speaking up for the first time. His face was impassive but I knew better than to judge his whole personality from that. Shinobi liked façades; they enjoyed purposely misleading onlookers into stereotyping them, squaring personalities that might be inaccurate onto their person. My father's amiable front could be covering a ruthless dictator; my mother's hotheadedness hid poignancy at the loss of her clan.

"Nice to meet you, Fugaku-sama," I said belatedly, not bothering to bow.

"Likewise, Namikaze-kun." He jerked his head towards where the stream of new students and parents were heading—an indication to move on. "Hurry along now."

"'Kay!" I wanted to speed towards the auditorium where I knew my parents would be waiting. Minato had a speech to give and Kushina had gone ahead to chat up with old friends. But Itachi was holding me back.

"Be careful," said Itachi reproachfully as I hauled him ahead, "I don't want a repeat of last time."

I rounded on him, cheeks heating up; I was amazed Itachi could keep a straight face. Then again, he had no idea about the social norms and thought 'what happened last time' was something that might've harmed me. "You swore never to speak of it again!"

"Only if you walk at a sedate pace," he compromised, the sly trickster. I groaned, resigned to being the last to enter the auditorium, and fell into step beside him. I glanced surreptitiously through my red-tipped bangs and saw a look of smug satisfaction coloring his pale features.

I was not obedient.

A bit miffed, and quite curious to see how he'd act, I ripped my arm from his grip and took off running. "Mirai, watch ou—!" I glanced back to see Itachi's eyes widening in alarm. But his warning came one second late: I'd already bowled a girl over.

"Ouch!" she yelped. A puppy yipped from underneath her; two other puppies barked ferociously at me and I would've been scared if they weren't so tiny. I studied her features and I instantly recognized the clan markings, even if the pups hadn't been there to give the hint as to who the little was. She was Kiba's older sister, I believe … Hannah? Shana? No, Hana.

The Inuzuka girl glared murderously at me when she caught me staring, baring her canines fiercely in a show of intimidation, even though she was the one flat on her back.

Itachi halted beside me and his reinforced grip was like steel. I winced at his superior strength. "I apologize on his behalf," the Uchiha clan's heir said apologetically. Chivalrously offered a hand to the Inuzuka who slapped it away.

"You're going to regret messing with me!" she spat. "Boys," she muttered in utter derision.

I stared after her. "What's her problem?" Even though I was no longer female, I knew the women physiology quite well: no one PMSed at such a young age.

"We will walk," Itachi inserted, "slowly." He took one step forward to emphasize what he meant by slow. It would take us roughly three hours to reach the auditorium, at the rate he was indicating we should go.

"Any slower and we'll be going backwards!" He ignored me. A couple of steps later: "Ugh, this is like a father walking the bride to her groom. Itachi, we've still got decades to act like old men, can we just quicken the pace?"

Eventually, in spite of my incessant complaining, we made it. I waved when I saw my father. He was already at the podium but he had yet to begin his speech, obviously because his son was MIA. From the subtle flicker of his eyes, I saw he was indicating where I could sit and I led Itachi there.

I doubted it would be long. I'd edited my father's script the night before. His original script was four-pages long—it would've turned anyone off—so I'd seen to it the third page was missing and crossed out no less than eight paragraphs for him.

Minato looked crushed when I handed him the shortened script. "Boring?" he whispered, rereading his script. "But … it was all relevant info—"

"It's useless to five-year-olds," Kushina interrupted, siding with me. "Trust me, Minato, when I was at my orientation ceremony, I heard only three sentences from the Sandaime."

"I heard his whole speech," said Minato passionately. Ready to regurgitate what the Sandaime had mentioned. My mother and I exchanged identical looks of disgust. "He said—"

"That's just you," I deadpanned, the same time my mother did, cutting him off before he began.

Minato sighed. "You two are more alike than I'd initially thought." That sounded a lot like he was giving up the argument.

I kept an ear open, listening intently …

…

Somehow, by the time I refocused, the orientation ceremony was over. "You didn't hear a single word, did you?" I smiled innocently up at Itachi. He already knew the answer anyway.

We were left to find our classrooms by ourselves—the coddling was starting to end and it was a mark of incompetence if we couldn't navigate the Academy building—but Minato waylaid us at the entrance. "I hope you'll pay more attention to your instructor than you did here," said my father, lower lip pushed out slightly. He however rewarded Saint Attentive Itachi a brilliant smile. "Watch over my son for me, why don't you?"

"I know you'd be spying on me with the crystal ball of yours," I said. "No need to trouble Chi."

Minato's lips quirked, ruffling our hair. Itachi ducked his head, mildly embarrassed by the amount of attention and affection Minato was showering him. Fugaku was never this affectionate, I knew by gleaning his thoughts. I'd been surprised the first time I felt the slightest sting of jealousy—he wanted a father like Minato's. I was pretty sure this was normal: at one point in time, you'd wish you had a better parent.

I know I did. And lucky me, my wish was granted—I got Minato and Kushina as replacements to the last pair.

I tightened my grip on Itachi comfortingly. He could get all the affection he wanted from me, my family (Kushina was his godmother), his own mother and later, his younger brother.

"We'll be going now!"

"Say goodbye to Kushina before you leave, Mirai!"

I looked back and I waved. "'Kay!"

…

..

.

My first day in school was shaping up to be pretty bad even though my limbs and organs hadn't failed me—yet.

I glared at the yellowish puddle of liquid pooled around my seat—it was not present before lunchtime. My nose informed me what it was before my eyes did: dog pee. My eyebrow twitched violently—I wanted to storm out to the courtyard where a lot of kids had lunch, locate the Inuzuka brat and strangle the life out of her.

"At least it wasn't feces," Itachi pointed out, always one to notice the positive in the negative. So he did know who the culprit was. Anyone with half a brain should be able to guess. Hana was the only with nin-animals in the class.

"How do you expect me to sit there now?" I asked grumpily, spying Hana's seat by the window, further down. Itachi and I had chosen to sit together at the back. He reasoned that it was the mark of a good shinobi to not have anyone behind him; I theorized we'd be closer to the exit to escape. "Hmm. Perhaps a taste of her own medicine is in order." I cackled.

"Don't," said Itachi reproachfully, brows furrowing into a slight frown, "If you retaliate, it'll never end."

"If I lie down and take what she dishes, it'll show that I'm a pushover," I grunted, waving him away. I grabbed Hana's bag and dumped it on the puddle of pee. Had I been feeling more vindictive that hour, I would've torn her books and let it soak the pee up too. I wasn't above doing that, not when I had done worse in my previous life as a well-certified jerk. Fortunately for her, I wasn't in that bad of a mood.

"Where are you going to sit now?"

"There are other places to squeeze into. Besides, it stinks here. You aren't going to continue sitting here, are you? Help me find a seat."

Itachi's nose twitched. "… Alright."

"I knew it."

At the end of my first day, I'd made my first—certainly not my last—enemy. My mother took it differently: "My son is so popular! Girls are already crushing on him! So, so, Mi-chan, what did you think of them?"

"Hana is … very annoying. So are the rest." They kept wheedling me about autographs and my father. My response—"Listen, my father has no time for wannabe cocksuckers when he already has a hot redheaded bombshell at home, so leave me alone. Go back to your geisha training, or whatever they call esteemed prostitutes these days. I don't care"—wouldn't have thrilled her. Everyone in class knew my last name but no one knew my first name.

No one cared. It was all about my father. No, I was not jealous.

Of course my mother didn't know—and you might've forgotten too—but I had the mindset of a female. Even though I had years of experience now, it was still awkward to find myself using a different tool. Though, to be honest, I wouldn't be above … denying the mortal pleasures of men … not even in this body.

(I was genuinely curious. There were only so many times you could be an authentic female then a male.)

Besides, I bore remarkable resemblance to Minato, with a few of Kushina's features to accentuate my own, and my parents had always been attractive people. Once I grew out of the automatic cute kid phase, I probably won't be that bad-looking.

In spite of what the future would behold, I couldn't wait to see how I'd grow up to look like. Assuming, of course, my organs didn't suddenly fail me. I liked to think that my physical energy was steadily increasing to the point I was out of that danger zone now.

"It'll get better," said Itachi. I'd brush it off as petty words meant as halfhearted reassurance but if Itachi was anything definable, he was not halfhearted.

"We'll see," I said.

~{IV}~

Theoretical classes before lunch and physical education thereafter; that was the schedule I had to get used to.

Morning classes projected how fortunate I was to be Itachi's friend. Even though the textbooks were in katakana—for now—I let myself drift off during classes, which wasn't hard to do. Mathematics and science didn't matter to me—since when did you need geometry and physics to kill people? Unless they were teaching us how to kill the brain first.

General knowledge was of course essential to life and I did learn but by not studying so no excessive amounts of spiritual energy was made, it meant that I didn't go out of my way to learn other extracurricular stuff—and even if I should study, I wouldn't. How hardworking do you think I am?

As I grew up, my body took up more strain than my brain did: I trained my body even as others sharpened their minds along with physical abilities.

"Are the weights necessary?" asked Rin one day when she happened to be at my home, shocked by the weighted clothing I was wearing. In her mind, I was still a frail child used to be bound to my bed. I was shocked too when my mother made me wear it but I decided not to complain since even Minato thought it was for the best. The vest was the first article of clothing I dumped on the floor once I reached home from school every day.

I rolled my aching shoulders as I responded to her question, "Yeah. My cells better me churning physical energy like nobody's business. It's to increase … um, endurance and speed." I glanced inquiringly at her. "Didn't my father make you guys wear it?"

"Not at such a young age, no," said Rin, shaking her head. "Are you sure you didn't pull a muscle or strain anything?"

"Mm-hmm." I frowned as I realized she had no reason to be here. If she wanted to visit Minato, she could find him easily in the Hokage's office – even toddlers knew where that place was. "Why are you here again…?"

Rin's smile lit her face up. "I'll leave that up to your parents to tell you." Eyes boring into hers, I perused her mind.

My mouth curved into a tiny smile. "She's pregnant?"

Surprise made her brows arch. "How did…?" A thoughtful and doubtful expression dawned on her pretty features. "You always have an odd way of knowing things you shouldn't. How did you do that?"

I shrugged. "Magic. So?"

"Both your mother and your up-and-coming sibling are doing fine," Rin was smiling as she replied. I still had mixed feelings about the newest addition to our family so I had doubts about this being good news. "Kushina-san's resting though. Pregnancy takes a larger toll on jinchūriki."

It had been at least four months since I spoke to Minato in the kitchen. I still remembered every detail of that conversation.

That meant Kushina was still in the early stages of pregnancy.

"You'll be the midwife?" I asked, coming back to reality instead of entertaining the thoughts playing in my mind.

"Of course. Why? Do I look incapable to you?" Her tone was wry so I surmised she wasn't annoyed. I had never actually seen Rin pissed-off at me before. I made a big show of squinting at her and humming in deep, doubtful thought. Rolling her eyes, she whacked my head.

"Ouch!" Gentle, sweet and kind were so overrated these days. I voiced what I thought loudly, dancing out of the way laughingly before she could pinch my cheek.

"Mirai!"

I turned. "What?" I asked, grinning cheekily.

Her smile was pinched. "Pick up your vest!"

If she became a mother, she'd never stop lecturing the kid. Speaking of motherhood, I realized I'd probably be experiencing fatherhood instead. It sounded intriguing. What drew my interest more was… "Do you have a boyfriend, Rin?" I beamed when she spluttered, cheeks pinking. "You do? Is it Obito?"

"Heavens, no! What makes you think so?"

Wow, do I feel sorry for Obito or what. I mean, she denied that so quickly. I wasn't the one being rejected but I felt hurt on Obito's behalf. It was pretty much canon … but in fandom, most ObiRin shippers tend to forget that it had been one-sided. Rin was a good friend, that's it. And to the end, it seemed to be Obito only had a crush on Rin; he wasn't deeply in love with. Why he went berserk for her was, to me, not because of the crush: it was because she had been the only one who had shown him compassion, who supported him – the kindest person in the world ended up with a cruel fate.

His nihilism seemed to have stemmed from that. Or I sucked at analyzing the situation.

"You still like Kakashi?" Her face hardened to stone and I, once again, was forced to acknowledge the fact that I was not as tactful as I thought I was. I struggled to respond over a bout of awkward coughing from my end. "Erm, cough, eh—what I mean to say is—"

"Don't you think you're too young to be thinking about love?" Rin returned, voice significantly cool. I winced as if she'd dropped an ice cube into my shirt.

"I, uh, I'm going to be six soon," I mumbled lamely in defense. "But you're right; I'm too young, yep! I'm going to do my homework, bye!"

I got the hell out of there but I was waylaid when I saw my slumbering mother. Her red hair seemed to be glowing during her pregnancy. My eyes fell on the nonexistent baby bump – it had yet to show itself. I gingerly placed my trembling hand on my mother's stomach. Through the articles of clothing, I felt warmth emanating from her but I couldn't feel the baby yet.

Thinking about Naruto brought a frown to my face. I wasn't averse to having another kid in the house now that I was more independent—being able to take care of myself had erased the fear of being abandoned in favor of a healthy kid—but Naruto's birth had signified the beginning of how shit went downhill.

I'd be glad once this was over.

"I want to meet you, too, despite everything; the adults aren't the only ones anticipating this –bito," I whispered to the baby before running to my room, since I heard Rin getting closer to the sitting room. I closed the door and slumped against it, heaving a sigh of relief once I was alone.

Can't believe Rin—a medic-nin—was capable of scaring me off. After pondering about it, I surmised she must've been using killing intent against me. I wondered when I can learn it. From the name alone, I deduced that it was simply the overwhelming intent to kill. Wouldn't it be hard to exude it to someone you were only mildly annoyed at?

That, or she really wanted to kill me for bringing Kakashi up.

Well, I better watch myself around her.

~{IV}~

After the conversation with Rin, I had a tough time looking at Obito without shooting him tragic looks and shaking my head or patting his shoulder in comfort. "Sensei, I'm borrowing Mirai for a bit," Obito said after I patted him for the thirtieth time that hour—what, he was sitting right across Rin! Tsk, tsk. Minato looked confused but nodded, gazing at us curiously as Obito muscled me out of the dining room.

"Did something happen between them?" Kushina's voice was muffled as she asked that once we were safely barricaded in the toilet. I could sense their growing confusion at this turn of events.

"What's your problem?" I asked the same time Obito did. I blinked, choosing to answer first. "Well, not to hurt you but…"

"But?" he prompted, somewhat impatiently, crouching before me as I was sat on the toilet's lid. His quick movement momentarily displaced the cloth, revealing the scar that made me twitch—he probably didn't mean to intimidate me.

"… Rin's not in love with you." Obito's arm twitched and while I didn't feel a single reek of KI, I had a feeling—that only the practitioners of ninshū had—he wanted to chuck me out the toilet window. I patted his arm. He jerked that arm away. "Sorry –bito."

I thought Obito would just let me run free but he was blocking the door. The toilet was only so big. I tapped the rim of the sink repeatedly. Obito shot me a sharp look when he realized I was tapping an SOS message—they taught it pretty early in the school year. "Where did you hear that?" He sniffled, his eyes might be swimming in tears.

"Hear? I asked –bito."

Obito's shoulders slumped as he sighed. Gloom pressed on his back. "Don't talk about it anymore."

"Er, I just want to say—"

"Mirai, save it."

"But—!" He phased through the door, ending the conversation there and then. Kushina's mind called to me, where was her son? She was wondering. So I quickly scampered out of the bathroom, shooting Obito a foul look as I resumed my seat.

There was a short pause as everyone was silent, staring alternately between me and Obito. Rin cleared her throat, finally breaking the tense silence. Obito did not look at her and the masked half of his face was turned to her; open hurt must be splayed on his face though. Since he wasn't facing me, I couldn't confirm that. I could easily create a link between us but … heartbreak sounded terribly painful to experience, so no thanks.

"So … I suppose the both of you are done answering Mother Nature's call?" She arched a doubtful brow to let us know that excuse wasn't going to cut it.

"Mirai should be old enough to do it alone, apparently not," was Obito's snappish retort. He could be very sharp with his words when he wanted to, though Kakashi was usually on the receiving end of this and only because the silver-haired shinobi had started it.

I lurched up defensively. "Fuck y—!"

"Where did you hear that word –ttebane?!" shrilled Kushina, slamming her fist on the table hard enough to crack it. I flinched as I realized my slip of tongue. No cuss words beneath the Namikaze household's roof. Ever.

I squeaked, "He did –bito." Pointed my finger at Obito to lay the blame.

"Hey, I didn't—gah!"

Suffice to say, Kushina really laid into us about vulgarity and proper usage of language around children.

~{IV}~

Drabble #4: Side-story, based on the previous statement of "what happened last time" in the chapter: ItaMirai ten years later. Not canon, I don't think. For those interested, leave a review; for those impartial to ItaMirai, review anyway, and leave a note that you don't want the drabble.

Question: What sort of friend do you think Itachi is? And Mirai, too. Which would you rather have as a best friend/someone you want on your side?

R&R