"You were supposed to be watching them during processing! The hell were you really doing, you two?!" His mother was about ready to rip her hair out. Fugaku could tell. He also knew who this couple happened to be and couldn't help but notice the woman sported a colorful mark on her neck. Her face was ruddy and so was the man's.

The pair kept exchanging glances at each other, both with the telltale twitching of those doing their best to hold in nervous laughter because they understood how inappropriate it was. "Do I have to split you up? You're adults. You're parents, for heaven's sake!"

True, they were, but they were Sanjo's parents. They worked longer hours than most, considering they served as correctional officers and (when necessary) a makeshift fugitive retrieval team. "Kitaro, Nanami? I don't even know where to begin."

"We're sorry, Kazusa-taichou," Nanami spoke up, putting her hand to her hickey. "It's just…the new uniforms came in and we wanted to try them on. You should have seen how sharp Kitaro looked." Kitaro chuckled anxiously and fidgeted, nudging his wife's ankle with the tip of his foot. She swung her foot back so he'd hit the wall instead.

'Just how old are you two, anyway?' Fugaku wondered, though this did shed more light on why Sanjo behaved the way he did. His parents looked young, maybe in their early thirties at most. Even more telling was that they acted young: like a couple of love-struck teenagers rather than the parents of one.

Kazusa's fingernails dug into his shoulders, causing the boy to make a small noise. "You can fool around and act like a couple of disappointments at home and on your own time. Thanks to you, that man broke out of processing and could be halfway to the border by now! If you lose him…" Her hands shook and her voice jumped an octave before cracking. She was worked up, ready to blow. "I'm getting involved."

"Okaa-san," Fugaku interrupted, giving her a concerned glance. "That's prison work. I thought you and otou-san were–"

"It can't be helped," she grunted in annoyance. "Sometimes, if you want something done right, or at all, you have to do it yourself." He couldn't see her face from this angle, but he didn't need to. When Kazusa talked like that, her already haggard face turned surly. She wanted to shout and curse a blue streak at these two for carelessly allowing a criminal to escape.

"How long do you think it's going to take?" Fugaku had his reasons for asking, of course; his graduation ceremony was this upcoming Monday. Unless anything changed since Thursday, he'd be the only child in his class to graduate for this term. The ceremony would be his and only his. How rare was that? That had to set some kind of precedent. But judging from the apologetic expression his mother gave him, he knew the answer before Kazusa even uttered a word.

'You aren't going to be there. This isn't an overnight thing. It could be days.'

Whoever this fugitive was, Fugaku hoped his mother caught him quickly and made him pay. He didn't care who this man was or what he'd done. This felt like a personal affront and he couldn't mask his disappointment. "Right. I'll just go home."

All he got in condolence was a quick ruffling of his hair, nothing more. By that point, Kazusa's attention already returned to the two who failed. "You hear that? Do you? I'm missing my son's graduation, just so I can fix your fuck-up. You worthless wastes of space! I could…I could just…"

There was no point in sticking around for the rest of his mother's tirade. It wasn't directed at him. Even with several yards between them, he could still hear her mouthing off and venting her frustration. 'This isn't about you,' he thought bitterly. 'Don't make it about you.' But she did it every time. It was always her sacrifices and her vainglory. Look at how much she gave up, just to keep them all safe and happy!

What a joke.

"Your mother's very upset that she can't make it to your graduation." Sarani put his glasses back on the table. Kazusa came home in full rant mode an hour or so ago. She packed her things, muttering dozens of grievances and inequities under her breath the entire time, and stomped off in indignation. Her son listened in, but he didn't dare go near her when she was that wound up. "Fugaku…you heard me, right?"

"It doesn't matter," he grumbled, poking his head out from his bedroom doorway. This was merely another routine he knew by heart. Kazusa would rage out and Sarani would end up having to act as a mediator and emotional interpreter. "I'm not accepting her apology until I hear it in her words."

This meant the world to him and she blew it. Most of the time, he could admire Kazusa and agree that, yes, she sacrificed herself time and time again for the sake of the village and the Uchiha, but this was inexcusable. He'd only turn ten once and he'd only graduate from the academy once. It wasn't even like he had any siblings where she'd have another opportunity to stand there proud.

Fuck her. And fuck her for making his father play middle man again. "You're still going, right?" If Sarani bailed, too–

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm even taking the day off, just to make sure I'll be there." Of course. He'd assumed this whole time that Kazusa would do that, too. Heaven help this family if something else came up, which it probably would. Sarani could see the distrust on his son's face and frowned. "Do you want it in writing, my little cynic?"

He could already hear it now. They'd both bail. Something would come up and the only person who would stand there to congratulate him would be Aunt Naho. The mere thought made him feel ill with anger. "You think I'm being unreasonable, don't you?" Sarani said nothing. "This isn't the first time she's pulled something like this and it won't be the last. This was really important to me! I'm gonna graduate and…"

Sarani had to squint to see the amount of resentment on his child's face. As soon as he did, he crouched down to embrace him. "I'm not going to miss this. A war can break out for all I care. I'll be there."

Sarani's solution to any problem involved meditating until a rational solution made itself known. In his opinion, the best means of clearing one's mind meant sitting in the same spot for hours, becoming one with nature, and focusing on one task alone. Nothing quite achieved this more effectively than fishing.

What if Kazusa returned home, reached critical mass from the stress of her day, and went on an hour-long rant about the unfairness of her job? Go fish. What if a close friend in the clan (or outside of it) died in the line of duty? Go fish. What if Sarani was expected to make a difficult decision that presented nothing but a lose-lose scenario for all involved? Go fish. What if Naho or one of Kazusa's unruly lieutenants came over? Go fish.

The fact he was able to convince his son to come along this time meant a great deal to him. Fugaku always found some excuse not to go with him, always to the point where Sarani strongly suspected his son was merely too respectful and considerate to outright tell his father he wasn't interested in fishing.

This weekend, though, there were no other distractions. Kazusa was preoccupied with hunting down the fugitive Kitaro and Nanami failed to apprehend. Naho was having some kind of meeting with her older brothers to discuss "something special for the village," not that Sarani particularly liked the exclusivity Tenjin's line held in regard to the rest of the clan. Then again, his concerns fell on deaf ears to his wife. She worshiped her friend.

"Wake up."

There was almost an excited playfulness to his typically reserved and professional tone. Why wouldn't there be? Today, he and his son were going to bond and do something he enjoyed. With Fugaku becoming a genin on Monday, this would be their last leisurely weekend for a long time. "It's best to do this first thing in the morning, right before dawn." Fugaku rolled over. "…Fugaku."

It gave him so much pleasure to see that disgruntled young face scowl up at him with sleepy eyes. Fugaku stretched and stood up on tottering tired legs. As he staggered past his father, grumbling something under his breath, Sarani made his way to the kitchen to pack a quick impromptu lunch for the two of them. This would be great.

This was so boring.

At least he could appreciate the beauty of his surroundings. The last time he'd sat by the water for this long, he'd gawked at his aunt in disbelief when a blue fireball left her lips and made all his hard effort feel worthless. Naho-oba placed the fear of plateaued talent in his mind. Doing something wasn't enough anymore. Doing it better meant a thousand times more.

He had to be the best in something. Anything. Almost counted for nothing in life and second placeholders were merely the winning losers. If he'd learned anything from Naho, it was that. No one remembered second place. They could only be bothered to recall winners and the elite…and what kind of clan head couldn't live up to that?

"Are you still thinking about your mother?" Fugaku shook his head slowly. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to graduate," he confessed. "Every time I think I've done a good job, oba-san keeps showing me all the ways I still need to improve." Sarani sighed and rolled eyes. "What? It's true! She's at least ten times better than–"

"Believe me. I know." His eyes were up to the sky, lifting past the plane of his glasses. "This probably won't make you feel any better, but your mother feels inadequate next to your aunt sometimes. Most of us do. She and her brothers are…" Sarani slowly shook his head. "Don't get caught up in what you don't have or what you can't do. If you're constantly chasing things like that, you'll never be happy."

And already, Fugaku felt like a small child for even attempting to talk to his father about this. He wanted to, though. He wanted someone to know how insecure and inadequate he felt in comparison. How hard would it be for someone as calm and collected as Sarani to tell him the five words he wanted most: it will all be okay?

"And you aren't being fair to yourself. You're only ten years old. You're about to be a genin. You're also comparing yourself to people who have had decades of experience more than you. You want to do the things you see us do? Practice. Try your best. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you're stuck. Learn as much as you can and take solace in what I'm about to tell you." What was solace? "It's inevitable. The people we think are the greatest don't stay that way. Someone always comes along to take their place. And in time, it will happen to Naho, too."

Fugaku was so caught up in the moment that he failed to notice his line wriggled. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely!" Sarani grinned at his son, scooting a bit closer so he could wrap one arm around the boy's shoulders and pull him close. "Your teachers say you're a very talented student. You have so much potential." Actually, the correct phrasing Sarani overheard was that his son's intelligence was one of the greatest in generations. "Just give it some time, alright? You're in no rush–but your line is. Reel it in!"

Fugaku's attention returned to the pole, giving it a strong yank before it fell out of the boat. It wasn't anything big. He could tell by how easily he could pull the reel back. A tiny but badly mangled little fish struggled against the hook, flopping in desperation. "Great. It's one piece of sashimi at most," he grumbled, unhooking the fish. It needed to come with them, anyway. It couldn't live out there.

Sarani laughed. "You're missing the point. Sure, it's small, but you caught something before I did."

Three hours later, the sun was high and Fugaku failed to catch anything else aside from an angry turtle that bit him when he unhooked it. Sarani, on the other hand, continued to catch some truly impressive fish. That man couldn't contain his excitement, either. "I need to do this with you more."

"I didn't catch anything good."

"I never caught this many before. I think the fish like you." Great. Now he was being silly. "I never catch anything when I bring your mother. We can clean these this evening and cook a few. If you want to invite your friends over, then–"

Fugaku's line caught something and he interrupted everything to grab the pole. Whatever it was, it had to be huge! His entire back strained as he tried pulling this thing out of the water. "Too heavy…" he groaned. "Help me, would you!? I think it's trying to go under the boat!"

Sarani took over the pole, but even he was having trouble. The way he grimaced and flinched made it clear to Fugaku that whatever they were about to see, it might get away. He couldn't allow that! He reached the edge of the pole and yanked it closer toward the boat. "No. No, son. Stay where you are! Boats aren't–"

But it was too late. The boat capsized. All the other fish bounced back into the pond. All Fugaku could think was that they prayed to some great and terrible fish god to free them from their plight. Not only had the fish's prayers been answered, but Fugaku caught the god. Soon, he and Sarani both would feel its wrath.

Sarani wrapped his arms firmly around his son's waist, pulling him to shallower water. "Whatever you do, don't let the pole go." He sounded almost frantic. "We'll get everything else out of the water later. Just…don't let go!"

His father was counting on him to do this right. There was no way he'd let go. Chakra control had been one of the last lessons taught at the Academy. Putting enough chakra into his hands to making the pole stick to him like a magnet, Fugaku backtracked and tried to pull this monster toward the land. Sarani gave his all on this, offering words of encouragement the whole time.

It felt like forever. Fugaku's arms threatened to pop out of socket, but he and Sarani succeeded. There, flopping before them, was a massive fish. "I…I had no idea it was this one." Sarani's comment took his son aback. What did he mean? "Come here. I want to show you something."

Fugaku was dripping wet and his whole body ached, but he came closer to the fish. Up close, it was the color of slate but gleamed like metal. Long, intricate fins gave it a sort of natural beauty he'd seldom witnessed on an animal before. One eye was gone and it had teeth. It was a miracle the thing hadn't snapped the line. 'I caught it!' he realized. 'It's almost my size, but I caught it!' Gingerly, he moved closer, wondering what his father would do next. "What did you want to show me?"

Sarani's eyes seemed to gleam at this, but he pointed to the gills. "He's ancient. You can tell how old a fish is by how their gills look. He's older than you are. In fact…" This was really going to wow the kid. "He's closer to my age."

They couldn't keep this a secret between them, nor could they kill, clean, and cook this magnificent creature before Kazusa came home. She'd be impressed, of course, and be wowed even more when she realized her husband hadn't caught it, but her son did. That was the logic behind what they'd done.

It swam around in the bathtub, swimming little circles and demanding to be fed. "It's huge!" That was the general consensus. What started as only bragging to some of the other Uchiha boys and their fathers about his capture ended up escalating to the boys from his class. There had to be about a dozen men in that bathroom, all staring down at the majesty of nature.

Naka, one of Kazusa's most formidable lieutenants, squinted to get a closer look at the animal. "You…you could feed ten people on that, Sarani-sama…"

"I'm just worried I ruined fishing for Fugaku forever," Sarani admitted, laughing nervously. "He's never going to catch anything this big again in his life."

"You don't know that," Fugaku growled, but he wasn't being serious. "There's always gonna be a bigger fish out there, right? And someone's gonna catch it." Might as well be him.

"Yeah," Nawaki roared, "I will!" Neyuki's eyes darted toward Mikuro for a split second. The Shimura boy slowly nodded his head, as though to give his Inuzuka friend his blessing to stick the Senju boy's head in the tub with all the nasty fish water. Nawaki sputtered, gasping for air, and gagged when he managed to lift his head above water. "Ewww. It pooped in there, you guys!"

"Oh, really?" Mikuro smirked. "Did you eat some?" Nawaki pushed him, which only made the boys laugh more.

Fugaku paid all of that no heed. His future didn't feel so frustrating at this moment. Finally, he set a record (even a pointless one) that others would strive to beat. So what if he couldn't release blue flames or didn't have his sharingan yet? He'd caught the biggest fish in the lake: a fish old enough to match his father in age. It was older. It should have known better.

And now, it was his.

They'd made a whole morning of it. Mikoto wanted to visit her father and show off the new baby. When she saw her husband fidget a bit at the kitchen table, not terribly enthused by the idea, she'd laughed it off and told him he didn't have to go. If anything, he and Itachi could have some much needed father-son bonding time.

There were so many memories tied to that pond. He'd seen jutsu so incredible from the previous generation that he never succeeded in mastering, even by his thirties. On that dock, he'd unleashed his first fireball and received his first, second, and third kisses.

In fact, his very last memory of his father was tied to this pond.

Itachi woke up before he did, all excited and eager to get a start on the morning and catch something. "You don't know for sure you'll catch anything," Fugaku warned him. "So don't get too excited, alright?"

But he could see it in his boy's bright and excited eyes within the first thirty minutes of sitting on the dock: he loved it. In so many ways, he saw shades of Sarani in Itachi. They shared the same nurturing, patient spirit. "I don't care," the little boy muttered, sticking close to his father. "I just wanna fish."

They sat there for forever, but nothing bit on the lines. "Did I ever tell you I caught a fish this big before?" Fugaku stretched out his arms. It got bigger and bigger to his memory the more time passed by. Itachi gave him a look that silently said sure you did, then went back to watching his own lure. "My mother was away on a mission and my father wanted her to see the fish before we cleaned and gutted it. So he put it in the tub."

And oh, how he remembered the way Kazusa had screeched over that. She had it in her mind she deserved a long, relaxing bath after a whole weekend of tracking down that fugitive. As soon as she undressed, ready to run the water, she'd seen the massive animal in the bath and–

Itachi didn't believe him. He was humoring Fugaku with a little smile, but he didn't believe a word of this.