Title: Soothsayer
Summary: Head too full of memories, hands raised to kill. Soothsayer, child-pawn. Uzushio born without the sea. [semi-SI!OC; male!oc]
Rating: T (potentail to raise to M in future chapters.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and maybe that's a good thing.
Warnings: none in this chapter, but as a catch-all expect canon levels of violence as a primary thing along with harm to children and Konoha typical neglect and bad decisions.
A/N: completely indulgent oc, completely indulgent fic. i say semi!si-oc because katsura knows things, but he's in no way model after me unless you count that he's my own oc. he's just a kid that knows a lot and can't make sense of it half the time.
originally published: aug. 17, 2018
edited: jan. 10, 2020
chapter one
There's something serene about being underwater that Katsura's never gotten tired of: the all encompassing blue, the simplicity of just floating-drifting, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. There's always a burning in his lungs that comes on quicker than he'd like, but he stretches at each time. A little longer, a little longer, and longer still until his lungs are fit to burst.
He'd do the same here if was able, but there's a muted dissonance of voices that floats down to meet him. It's so easy to lose himself when he's this disconnected from the world, but he knows he shouldn't stay for any longer. His lungs can't handle it-for one, and he's sure that Iruka-sensei is ten seconds away from jumping in to make sure that a student hasn't drowned on his watch.
It's always harder swimming back up than letting himself sink or float; the water is a heavy drag to his limbs as if it doesn't want him to leave. Don't leave, don't leave it might say, but Katsura breaks the surface of one of Konoha's many lakes and takes a breath of air. His lungs burn. Then soothe. Then settle. He brushes his hair out of his face and swims back to the shore, not surprised he's the last one out again.
"Four minutes even." Iruka-sensei says as he hands over a towel, not sure if he should be impressed or worried; Konoha isn't Kiri after all. People here prefer the height of trees to the water's depth. "Good job Katsura-kun. Go dry off, we'll be leaving in a few minutes."
Katsura bobs his head in rushed show of thanks, wraps the towel around his shoulders, and walks over to Hinata. His distant cousin smiles when she sees him, small though it may be, Katsura will take it. It's hard to tell they're related in any way and the only thing marking them such are their dark hair and pale eyes, though even that's a stretch because Katsura's are a honeyed gold and he actually does have a visible pupil, side effect from being so removed from the main family as he is.
Hinata enjoys the idea of them being cousins though no matter how diluted the blood is, and Katsura is sure she likes to pretend they're closer in blood than they really are, so he doesn't ruin her fun. He doesn't mind either way because she's sweet and polite and something wonderful under that layer of anxiety of hers. She just needs a push away from judgmental eyes is all.
"How'd you learn how to hold your breath for so long?" She asks, pale eyes bright with wonder and maybe some parts amazement. He always beats out the class when it comes to breathing exercises, after all.
Katsura leans on her shoulder before answering; a small show of affection he's sure she doesn't get back at home, not like she should. "Dad said I knew how to swim before I could crawl, so we put a lot of stock in making sure I could last in the water instead."
He doesn't remember the original conversation, but there's a redux of it he recalls:
"It's the Uzushio in you." His dad had said prideful and happy with gold eyes gleaming as he scrubbed Katsura dry of lake water. "All of us knew how to swim in her waters before anything else, and she doesn't forget blood, no matter how far away they might be."
Katsura always likes it when his dad talks about Uzushio— the home he had to leave at an age only a bit older than Katsura is now. He gets melancholic in a wistful way as he recalls the place of childhood described as pretty as if it were a dream and just as unobtainable these days. Now all that's left of it is the Uzushio quarter in Konoha, scattered groups of others in different nations, and special fuuinjutsu, some of which is tattooed on his dad's skin in places: blood and ink, memories and memorials.
"How long did you get?" He asks, to pull himself out of those memories, to pull himself out of the feeling of sadness he gets for never being able to truly know where the other half of his blood comes from.
"A little over a minute." Hinata admits and doesn't seem proud of it. "I need to practice more."
"Don't push yourself too much. You could drown that way."
She just nods, a motion he feels rather than sees, his focus trained on his other classmates. A group of students are continuously taking not so subtle glances at Sasuke; he's pretty in a way that Konoha tends to idolize, pale skin and dark hair and dark-eyed-would look better if he didn't scowl so much in Katsura's opinion, but that's what people love about him apparently. Ino and Sakura are going between looking at Sasuke and trying to fix their hair. Shikamaru and Chouji are sitting in a patch of sunlight while Kiba and Naruto run around them in what's probably an impromptu game of tag.
It's nice, a snapshot of peace that won't happen for a long while yet. This is the last day of class before the graduation exam, after all.
There are two firm claps of a hand, Iruka-sensei no doubt, and it takes all of three seconds for most of the students to give their attention back over to him. Everyone has a healthy fear of getting their teacher upset or annoyed, most of them do, anyway.
"Good job everyone," Iruka-sensei smiles, proud at all of them in a way that's genuine. "Here's the deal, since today's the last day of class I'm going to let you all go early since it was just final assessments anyway." At this, there's a gleeful rising murmur of voices. Iruka-sensei must clear his throat twice before they settle again. "That means do what you need to do to prepare, practice, and study. You can leave your towels here. Dismissed."
That's all the words needed before the other students are gone in different directions, towels tossed on the ground and friends chatting with each other, excitement and trepidation in the tone of their voices.
Katsura moves his weight off Hinata so he can finish drying his hair, had used the towel on her shoulder so he wouldn't drip everywhere. "You wanna come over and practice?" He knows the answer already; Hinata will say no like she has been for the past couple of months, but he doesn't blame her.
"I can't. Father wants me home as soon as possible these days."
They won't fail a clan head's daughter he doesn't say for Hinata's benefit more so than anything. There's no reversed invitation for him because he isn't allowed in the Hyuuga compound, or rather he knows showing up trailing behind his cousin will be more trouble than it's worth.
She blushes, probably involuntarily since Katsura knows she isn't shy around him— stopped being so by the time they were eight and spent enough time at the academy to properly get used to each other.
"After the exam, we can get something special to eat." She suggests, but falters again. "Ah! Well, maybe not? Your parents would want to celebrate with you."
"We don't have anything planned, but I think they both took the day off." Katsura shrugs and redoes his hair in a loose braid. "We can all four go out and eat somewhere."
"I wouldn't, I wouldn't want to impose."
Katsura huffs and rolls his eyes. "It's fine. They haven't seen you in a while, and they always ask about you. I'm more worried about you getting in trouble."
"Father will be busy with Hanabi that day."
"All right." Katsura nods and pulls his shirt over his head from where Hinata was keeping an eye on it. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
They part with small waves and small smiles. Katsura doesn't go home immediately though partly because he's sure no one will be home yet and another part because he needs to visit his grandmother.
. .
. .
The Uzushio quarter greets him like a second home, the wards letting him in with no resistance. It's nice here, peaceful and a little empty due to the time, but the few cousins he spots on the street greet him by name with wide smiles and bright eyes.
His grandmother's door is always open because she's old and kind and one of the most loved and respected elders in the quarter, so it's nothing for Katsura to slip in and slip his shoes off. Her home is open and inviting, traditional in style, and carrying the smell of the ocean from the fuuinjutsu written in hidden places. She told him that's what Uzushio smelled like all the time, the salty scent of the ocean and fresh flowers.
Katsura doesn't know a more comforting smell.
"Is that my wayward grandson?" He hears her voice drifting from the kitchen and Katsura follows the smell of cooking food to her.
"Hi, obaasan." he greets, pausing in the entryway of the kitchen to pet Taro, her particularly lazy Akita that's sprawled on the floor.
She pauses from her task of molding dumplings to wipe her hands on her apron, assessing Katsura with hands on her hips. "Finally, here to visit an old bird after weeks of silence."
Katsura flinches, but he knows she isn't too upset at him. Final Academy year and all that. "You're not that old." he defends, though he knows by shinobi standards that she is.
She's older than Hokage, he thinks he remembers his dad saying or around the same age. She doesn't look old either, ochre brown skin with only a few wrinkles though her hair's white as snow by now, and her skin is soft and thin. Doesn't move like someone her age, however, or complain about aches and pains, probably because she's a retired medic; her skills now used to help those in the quarter who don't feel the need to take the long jaunt to the hospital.
"Don't lie." She laughs a sound like soft wrinkled paper and shuffles over to wrap her arms around Katsura in a hug that lasts for seconds. "Now, how's that son of mine?"
"Good. He's over his cold now, so he went back to work."
"That's good." She steps back into the kitchen, Katsura following and washing his hands to begin helping; there's rice that needs to be molded into onigiri. "Izumi's always had a weak immune system even as a kid. Got it from his father's side of the family. I swear."
Katsura hums and nods, hands busy molding rice. He doesn't like when his dad is sick, but it happens often enough that he's used to it by now; nothing has been too serious anyway.
"And how's Takeshi? I heard he's been busy at the hospital."
"Apparently some kids were practicing clan techniques on each other without supervision, so their tenketsu got all messed up. Tousan's one of the few Hyuuga medics they have on staff, so he's been in charge of them."
"That should let those stick in their ass elders realize they need to let more Hyuuga's do what they want to do."
Katsura sighs, a weak protest to his grandmother's word choice, but he can't really say much since he agrees with her. "Hinata says the elders aren't really happy having to rely on him since, you know, they disowned him and all, and they're prideful. I think he'd be more smug about it if the kids weren't so young and if he didn't come home with migraines all the time now."
Grandmother click her tongue obviously annoyed now, and Katsura lets her mumble to herself about unfair treatment and botchy seals and respect. It's something he's used too by now, her contempt at the main Hyuuga family though she adores Hinata and considers her blood as much as she does Katsura.
Katsura just continues helping with the food until she has enough to feed the entire quarter by the looks of it.
"You still need medicine for your migraines?" She asks with no preamble once they're done and have everything stored in containers and then small storage scrolls. She ends up handing a few off to Katsura despite his protest and reassurance that the entire family gets fed despite varying schedules.
"Sorry," There's something about constantly asking his grandmother for this that makes him feel a bit of shame as if he's using her even though she's been helping him since he was six and first complained about them.
"Bah," She waves her hand, the ring on her finger catching the light of evening sun as she does so. "Don't worry about it. I'll even whip up something for Takeshi. Gods know he won't ask for help himself, damned Hyuuga pride of his."
While his grandmother putters around up the stairs, Katsura sprawls on the engawa that opens to the backyard, spread eagle on the wood and lets the coolness of the floor and the breeze ease his headache while he waits. Taro plops his heavy head on his stomach and whines up at him with soulful brown.
"I'll be fine." He whispers, scratching the dogs behind his fuzzy ears.
He's been getting migraines since he was six after all, for as long as he can remember, really. He knows exactly what causes them and his grandmother does too; she's the only one that knows.
Soothsayer she had whispered after he was seven and told her about all the knowledge in his head, about the future and past and histories he shouldn't know. Poor child, she had cooed and held him close when she realized all that knowledge is the reason why he couldn't remember the first six years of his life after he went missing in the forest for three days and showed up with a different flow of chakra and confused eyes. Important things pushed out less important things apparently— the brain can only hold so much.
It left Katsura lost and confused for months in his own skin and sometimes still; only things that were a familiar comfort to him were the sound of his parents' voices and the smell of the ocean.
. . .
chapter one
A/N:
2020 update: returning readers, thank you so much for coming back! new readers, hello i'm just here for a good time!
Katsura has two dads and all you need to know is that one is trans & that more lgbt+ themes/headcanons will be present in this fic because i want to paint the universe (in my fic) as one that's pretty accepting in that regard. it's not one without discrimination, but its focus is on other social & political things, so that's that.
the only criticism i will be taking is if it's constructive, so that's all there is to it. now onto something else.
katsura's not an uzumaki because i think it's dumb that the uzumaki seem to be the only family from uzushio.
I'm really tired of oc fics that start from Birth since then it's just boring baby days and not that interesting academy days and oh gosh! You're a genius, please graduate early and be a toddler wielding a knife. So here, we're starting in the thick of things so hopefully, it won't drag on too much besides the developing beginning chapters kinda?
I know what I'm doing with this fic and I'm very excited since i love katsura and i personally think he has a lot of potential to be an interesting and unique oc. so pls stick around if you can! this chapter was actually supposed to be longer but then i wrote the last line and it seemed perfect to end it on!
Thanks so much for reading the first chapter please leave a review on your way out if you have the time and energy!