Before I could get summoning scrolls, I needed permission. There were two laws to worry about. One was at the village level, and one was at the school level.
After talking to Shisui, I learned we were already okay at the village level. Selling ninja tools to anyone without a license was prohibited. But civilians could own ninja tools as long as it was for non-military, non-aggressive purposes. The village tried to make the laws lenient, because they had many civilian clients coming in, and it would be a hassle to ask them all to drop off their stuff at the gate. That wasn't good for business.
The school was much stricter. The school rules would need to be rewritten.
… which was easy. I just had to cross out a few lines in the official rule book and write the new rules. Tamaki knew how to talk in fancy language, so she helped me out with that part.
Exception is the summoning scroll and shall be granted for…
She handed me the pen, and I wrote everyone's names. Done!
We high-fived.
Permission done, the next step was getting the scrolls themselves. The Academy had plenty of old, leftover scrolls. I thought of raiding the supply closets, but I didn't need to. Teacher Iruka was happy to donate. As a teacher, he understood the normal school didn't have the funds and needed to look to many places for donations.
"So you're enjoying your new school," Teacher Iruka said, handing me a basket.
"It's great!" I said.
He smiled. After I had left, he had been worried about me. He knew I had heavy expectations put on me, and he didn't know if I'd have a hard time adjusting. He was glad that he didn't need to worry after all.
I never realized that Teacher Iruka thought of me. But he did. He thought of all his students. Even after we had left the Academy, it was important to him that we were okay.
It was very moving. Teacher Iruka had been my strictest teacher, but he was only strict because he cared so much. He would be overjoyed if all his students liked him, but that was less important than all his students growing up well.
He patted my head. "Now, I trust you to not break any rules with these, Ayae," he said.
I nodded. "I promise!"
Lastly, I needed a chakra user. Aunt Mikoto gladly volunteered. So I brought my classmates to my district. They followed me, looking at everything in awe. There were whispers and excited nudges and pointing. Lots of pointing. It wasn't every day civilians stepped inside our district, so I gave them the big tour.
"So yeah, more trees… that's a police building… and those are more houses… and that's a tea place… by the way, we also have a lake and a bunch of temples and stuff back that way… oh, and I'm that way, but we're going this way…"
Once we were at the main house, I knocked. The excitement got louder.
"Ayae dear, perfect timing," Aunt Mikoto said, smiling. "You must be all of her new friends, please come inside."
Our shoes piled up.
"Oh my god, she's so beautiful," Reina whispered frantically.
"Her house is so beautiful! It's spotless!"
"I wonder what it looks like when there aren't guests around?"
"Oh, like this," I answered. Heads turned to me. "Well, without so many people. But it looks like this."
"Every day? How many maids does this house have?"
"None?" I didn't understand the question. It was a house, not an inn!
They looked stricken.
"Y-you mean, she…"
Aunt Mikoto came out from the kitchen, holding a tray. On it was a spiralling tower of snacks and tea. "Would anyone like refreshments?"
Everyone looked doubly-stricken.
I took a cookie. "Thank you, Auntie!"
Reina looked at her panda cookie, while Masae held up a bunny cookie.
"She made this…"
"It's definitely homemade," Reina said grimly. "It's warm."
"It's delicious!" Yuuka cried after a bite.
"This tea has sat out for precisely two minutes," Mimi said, tears trailing down. "It's at perfect drinking temperature."
"Her posture…"
"Her voice…"
"Her temperament…"
The girls fell to the ground, defeated. "THIS IS CLASS S!"
The boys weren't any more normal. They thanked Aunt Mikoto again and again, bowing and blushing. They were either extremely distant or extremely close, with no in-between.
Only the Dropouts were normal. Setsu and Ayame plopped on the couch. Tamaki helped hand out cups. Dai raided the fridge for milk.
Once everyone calmed and settled, we went into the dojo room. There, all the summoning scrolls were evenly spread out on the floor.
Everyone sat in front of one. As instructed, they took out their books and piled them on top.
Sayuri sat at the front. Aunt Mikoto knelt before her and opened her palms. Nervous, Sayuri glanced at Tamaki next to her, who nodded encouragingly.
Hesitantly, she took Aunt Mikoto's hand.
The scroll between them retracted.
"Ah!" Curious, Sayuri poked the scroll, then picked it up. "It's so light!"
"Let me see, let me see!"
"Whoa!"
The class chatted excitedly. Smiling, Aunt Mikoto took the next person's hands. One by one, she linked each of their chakra signatures to their scroll.
And it was done!
My classmates were amazed, poofing and unpoofing their stuff. They got used to them very fast. Some even tried throwing them like batons or playing catch.
Even the shy students stopped being scared. After all, Mimi slipped and dropped hers fifty different ways, but nothing bad ever happened.
To celebrate, we had a party afterward.
At some point, Sasuke came home. He took one look at the crowd, before walking right back out.
I tried to call him back in. "Hey, Sasuke, we're-"
"No."
I pouted, but got quickly dragged back in.
Around Aunt Mikoto was a large audience gushing with compliments. They asked how she managed such a big house all by herself. The girls asked if she had any tips to being a good housewife. They asked if she had been training since she was young, if that was how she was so good.
Aunt Mikoto laughed. "Actually, I was trained as a kunoichi. I never touched domestic arts until after I got married."
"What!"
"Oh yeah, Auntie, you were a jounin, weren't you," I said.
"Jounin?!"
"For fifteen years," Aunt Mikoto said. "I retired after Sasuke was born."
That was new information, even to me. In my head, I did some math. We had Aunt Mikoto's thirty-fourth birthday, minus seven, minus fifteen…
Twelve! Aunt Mikoto had been a jounin at our age?!
"But if you were a jounin, why would you retire?" Tamaki asked.
"Well, my husband, Fugaku, is a jounin too. We used to work together in the field. But after we had a child, it became necessary that at least one of us stayed home. At first we did rotations but…" Aunt Mikoto thought about how she was going to put this delicately. She decided she wasn't going to. "Well, it came down to comparative advantage. Even though I was ten times better in the shinobi arts, he was a hundred times worse in the domestic arts!"
Aunt Mikoto truly had no mercy! Smiling, she went on to list every one of Fugaku's failures, from cooking to laundry to shopping. "And I'm not even counting the war years! Honestly, Itachi, bless that child, I don't know how he survived, but it wasn't our parenting. I just knew I couldn't leave Sasuke to the same chance."
It was an easy choice. Aunt Mikoto never liked shinobi work that much. She did it because she was special and the only one who could do what the village needed. But after the last war, they didn't need her skills as much. So she was free to go, especially after her husband agreed to take over her responsibilities.
There was another reason too.
"In our clan, we have a special title called the clan lady," Aunt Mikoto explained. "You probably have never heard of it, but—"
"Oh no, we know!"
"Yes, we know everything!"
"You're the current clan lady, and Lady Tomoe is next in line!"
"Yes, yes, and Itachi is the clan heir, and he's going to marry her!"
Aunt Mikoto twitched. Keeping her smile, she asked, "May I ask how…?"
"Ayae told us!" everyone exclaimed, pointing to me.
I stopped mid-bite into a cookie. Under Aunt Mikoto's gaze, I shrunk. I took the cookie out of my mouth. "Um, that… wasn't a secret, was it?"
Aunt Mikoto recovered and shook her head. "Ah, no, you're fine, Ayae dear." Chuckling lightly, she tucked back her hair. "Well, since everyone knows, I won't bore you—"
"No, no, no!"
"Please tell us everything!"
But everything Aunt Mikoto said only led to more questions. In the end, she decided that if everyone wanted a story, then she would start at the beginning.
And so, we went back to thirty years ago, when the existing clan head had two granddaughters.
Their names were Masako and Mikoto, and they were evenly matched in every way. At six, both could cite the Sennin Shuuka without a single missed character. At seven, both could deflect a wave of senbon with a wave of their own. At eight, both could beat any opponent at go… except each other.
They were even, but they were as different as the black and white stones on the board. While Mikoto was light and soft and joyous, Masako was dark and sharp and melancholy. Mikoto was childish and charming, playful and open. Masako was mature and elegant, dutiful and private.
One of them would be the next clan lady.
Meanwhile, two boys in the clan rose above all others, two boys who were capable of seizing the title of clan heir. From one family was Fugaku. From another family was... Mr. Dirtbag.
Between the two potential clan heirs, there was a much larger gap. Mr. Dirtbag was older. He was stronger, faster, and better… or at least, he thought he was. He beat Fugaku in everything.
Masako and Mikoto chose to be kind to each other. No matter how the clan pitted them, they loved and respected each other. They saw in each other a sister and a friend.
Mr. Dirtbag and Fugaku were mean to each other. Their relationship was one of constant rivalry and humiliation. The more they competed, the more they projected their hate and bitterness on the other person.
The fighting worsened when the clan head began showing preference for Mikoto. Mr. Dirtbag wanted to be the next clan head. He would do anything to marry the next clan lady. But Fugaku wanted to marry Mikoto too. No matter how many times Mr. Dirtbag kicked him down, he got up. No matter how many times he lost, he kept trying.
One day, the news came that Mr. Dirtbag was going to challenge Mikoto in a fire duel. If she lost to him, then she would agree to marry him. Mikoto was only thirteen at the time. He was twenty-two.
Fugaku was horrified when he heard. He found Mr. Dirtbag and said if he wanted to challenge Mikoto, he would have to get through him first. This, despite having never beaten Mr. Dirtbag before. This, despite knowing he could easily die in such a challenge.
It was one of the bravest things Mikoto had seen anyone do.
"So? Did he win?"
"He must have! Against all odds, he won!"
"Nope," Aunt Mikoto said.
The audience collapsed.
Fugaku was brave, but also kind of stupid. So was Mr. Dirtbag, honestly. After Mr. Dirtbag sent Fugaku to the hospital, Mikoto sent Mr. Dirtbag to the hospital next.
Both seemed to have forgotten Mikoto outranked them both.
However, Mikoto knew Mr. Dirtbag was not going to give up his pursuit of her. As long as he was the strongest boy and she was the strongest girl, the clan would pressure them to get together.
So she made a decision. At the next go match against Masako, Mikoto placed one piece just one square too left. And because of that one misplaced piece, fifty turns later, the entire clan saw their tie finally break.
The clan head began to favor Masako, and very quickly, Mr. Dirtbag began to favor Masako too. The only one whose feelings didn't change was Fugaku's.
When Mr. Dirtbag and Masako were declared the successors, Fugaku and Mikoto were far away on a boat. They had escaped to be together. The whole ride, her eyes had been closed. When he took off her blindfold, she was greeted by the glows of a thousand fireflies.
As they grew up, Fugaku and Mikoto became increasingly inseparable. They were together on missions. They were together in war. They were together when they moved into their first house, a little two-story far away from the rest of the clan and their politics. In that two-story they had prepared two bedrooms, one for them and one for their new daughter.
Unfortunately those bedrooms would end up abandoned and forgotten, gathering years of dust.
No one thought Masako and her husband would both die on the same night, leaving behind their daughters. Or how Mikoto's daughter would not be a daughter at all, but a son.
Mikoto thought she defied fate when she cast aside her title alongside that stone. She had only delayed it.
The clan head and clan lady were not figureheads. They were not meant to inspire; they were meant to rule. And ruling the Uchiha meant putting the interest of the Uchiha above all. The clan head must achieve external harmony. The clan lady must achieve internal harmony. These goals must be met no matter the cost.
Aunt Mikoto fell quiet.
Finally, she said, "People grow, and they change, and they adapt. Under the right pressures, we will mold into the roles that were cut out for us." She put on a gentle smile. "To be honest, we both started off unprepared and terrible at our new jobs. But over time, we got better."
Mikoto learned how to negotiate and pacify. Fugaku learned how to lead and command. By the end of the next war, they had both transformed into the people the clan needed them to be.
My classmates all clapped excitedly.
Afterward, everyone went back into happy conversation. I turned to Tamaki.
"What is it, Tamaki?"
Tamaki broke out of her thoughts. She shook her head. "Ah, nothing. It's just… I keep forgetting how incredible your clan is."
I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"
Tamaki looked at Aunt Mikoto, who was clearing away used cups. "Itachi's parents have fought in two wars. Not only that… they must have fought in the first battalion both times."
"Eh?!"
Setsu slowly nodded. "That's what I assumed too."
"Is that important?" Ayame asked. She had dropped out of the Academy before we covered that section.
"The first battalion is Konoha's front line. It's our most powerful offensive. It's our most dangerous too. For any normal shinobi on that line, the survival rate of a single battle is four percent." Tamaki was shaking. "During the Third War, the first battalion faced eighteen battles in total."
Ayame went wide eyed.
"It wasn't what won the war. But without it, we couldn't have won."
"It feels so close and so distant at the same time," Setsu said, curling inwards. "Do you guys remember the sirens? They used to give me the worst headaches."
Ayame nodded. "You had to close the windows, and even then you could still hear."
"I just remember the shaking," Dai said. "My dad still won't put stuff on our top shelves because of it."
My friends talked more about the war. I kept quiet. I looked at Aunt Mikoto, who was talking with a new crowd. She looked very happy and was giggling at times. She also looked sad. Did the story upset her?
After everyone left, I helped Aunt Mikoto with the dishes.
"Auntie?"
"Yes, Ayae dear?"
"About the clan lady stuff… I'm sorry if I said anything I shouldn't have. I hadn't thought to ask, and that was wrong of me."
Aunt Mikoto turned off the faucet. She patted her hands dry and crouched down before me.
"No need to worry about that, Ayae dear. We had the choice of deciding what and what not to share with you. And we understood that anything we left with you is yours - yours to keep and yours to tell."
"Really?"
"Really."
I beamed.
"People are kept alive through stories, and stories are kept alive through people." Aunt Mikoto smiled. "So I do believe it is good that our stories are told. And I do believe you, Ayae dear, may be the best one to tell them."
