Notes:
Warnings in this chapter for implied underage sexual extortion, nothing explicit. There is a brief moment of parental physical violence.
"It was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a fit place for people or for love or for hope." — Shirley Jackson, from The Haunting Of Hill House
"At least the shrine and aviary weren't destroyed," Homare remarks, voice optimistic as she mingles through the dense crowd of Uchiha, face quickly grimacing at the amount of people carelessly moving futons and food in a way that blocked off any easy chance of navigating the area.
Shisui blinks up at his mom. "I think I would prefer the barracks with the civilians," He confesses in a loud voice. Several of the older adults level him with a glare as someone chokes back a laugh in the background.
Homare gives him a big grin and ruffles his already messy hair, the shadows under her eyes as deep as they were during the war. "Don't worry kiddo, it's only temporary. I even hear we're all going to get a fancy compound near the outskirts, with big homes for everyone!" She exclaims with a forced cheeriness. Shisui doesn't miss the way the lines around her eyes tighten even further at the statement.
She lets out a sigh, as if berating herself for her words. "C'mon Shi-chan, let's help out with the food supply and then head over to feed our cute little crows. Makato-chan promised me the best pick of leeks today!"
Turning quickly, she heads towards the open door of the shrine and begins to descend the many flights of stairs, the full view of Konohagakure framing her figure like a painting. Even with all the destruction, it looks beautiful, Shisui thinks. Hastily, he begins to follow his mother's footsteps, sending her a small grin as he catches her eye.
Today was going to be a good day.
Shisui is walking back from the market with his arms full of groceries when he hears the damning phrase.
It's just a little whisper barely heard over the cacophony of people milling out, sandals picking up dust from the nearby rubble, the tired faces of civilians and shinobi alike worn and dirty.
"Didn't you hear?" Says a low, feminine voice. "The Uchiha can control the Kyuubi."
Shisui stops in his tracks, body awkwardly obstructing the broken road as people move around him with a baleful glare, his mother arguing in the background with a durian stall manager.
Before he realizes it, his body doubles back, legs searching for the owner of the words with purposeful steps as his eyes shift and focus on two nondescript women huddled together, both of them lacking any signs of bags or stalls.
"What did you say?" He loudly accuses, voice rising above the noise of the crowd.
But one of the women is already turning towards an alley, steps quickening as her partner looks down at Shisui with disbelief and fear. Shisui instinctively runs after the woman in one of the few remaining non-collapsed alleyways, groceries abandoned on the sidewalk as the clack of his sandals echoes from the cobblestone.
"Wait, I just want to talk to you—!" He yells out, turning a corner, his young legs frustratingly limiting the speed he knows he can reach.
The woman is gone.
"Shisui-kun!" His mother's voice calls out as he stands there, stupefied. There are no exits or handles to grab for escape in the time it took for the stranger to run around the corner.
Someone grabs his arm.
"Shi-chan!" His mother hisses, "I saw that! You can't go around chasing civilians, especially now when—"
"Uchiha Homare-san." An ANBU nin interrupts them. They both freeze. Homare slowly turns her head and drops Shisui's bicep as if it burns. Shisui looks over the figure behind them in curiosity, eyes roaming over the nondescript mask and black robes.
There's a second of silence as everyone eyes each other up, a strange tension threatening the air around them with the promise of activated chakra.
"You're needed at the hospital," The ANBU intones.
"Why?" Homare demands, shifting her body in front of Shisui.
"Your husband has been found on the outskirts of Kumo by a Konoha squad. He is being treated at the hospital and has asked for your presence," They answer, voice far too flat for the earth-shattering information thrown into the empty alleyway, Homare's befuddled expression now mirroring Shisui's.
There are no more words as she scoops up Shisui in her arms and practically flies across the rooftops, the sight of the hospital in the horizon.
"I'm permanently discharged from active field duty," Is the first thing his father says. His face is paler than Shisui has ever seen it, deep purples and blue adorning the wrinkles under his eyes. The sight is almost shocking enough to distract Shisui's gaze from the alarmingly flat space of the hospital bed sheet, right where his father's left leg was.
"Oh, Hideyoshi," His mother exclaims, voice breathless. Her steps quicken to stand by his side, carefully moving the IV tube attached to his skinny arm.
"Don't worry, Homare," His father says, struggling to sit up, "They didn't get my face, which was clearly the most important part," He jokes. It would have been more convincing if his voice had not wobbled near the end. "I was stupid and got trapped in a ravine in enemy territory with a broken leg — the bone was sticking out of it and everything. The infection spread, so I risked going into a town for treatment, which apparently means amputation. The recovery took a while, to say the least. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner." His arm trembles as he brings it to his wife's face. Homare's eyes soften as she grabs his hand and holds it close, pressing it against her cheek.
"You were lucky," She whispers, saying the words like a confession. Hideyoshi sighs.
"I was. I am."
Shisui swallows, and both heads turn to him.
"It's okay, son." His father chokes out, his arms open. Shisui ignores the beginning of tears in the other's eyes and runs in to hold them both, careful not to jostle the hospital bed too much. "Fugaku-sama already secured me a desk job at the station. I don't need to go on missions anymore. It's gonna be okay." Shisui hears him whisper, voice now muffled by curly hair. He feels wetness on his scalp. Unbidden, Shisui thinks back to the quick moment of relief on his parent's faces when his father made the announcement of retirement.
Maybe, he thinks, these aren't tears of grief.
Shisui hugs him tighter and tries not to feel the faint stirrings of jealousy.
It isn't until Shisui comes back from a two-week-long chunin mission that he notices the change.
He notices the early closures, the way some food didn't quite taste of the same quality, the increase in whispers, but he doesn't connect them together into a cohesive whole until the gentle shopkeeper that puts flowers in her hair and used to give him half off on gauze spits in his face and calls his clan the blight of the village.
Shisui stands for a moment outside the shop as the door is loudly closed. A few people stop at the noise, but quickly go back on their route.
"Didn't you hear?" A whisper says, passing him. "The Uchiha were the only ones spared by the Kyuubi."
Faster than he can think, Shisui turns around.
"Who said that?!" He yells into the crowd. Civilians and shinobi alike stare at him, but no one stops or catches his eye.
Angry, confused, and embarrassed, Shisui clenches his grocery money in hand and heads back home.
"Let's pack up," Homare says to him one day at the shrine, face grinning as she holds up empty bags in front of her. Shisui wipes away the grogginess from his eyes and catches one thrown to him with a small oof. A few of the sleeping Uchiha next to him stir, but most of the sleep-ins simply throw a pillow over their heads, used to the lack of volume Homare displays.
"We're moving into our new compound!" She continues. "So get up and at em'!"
Shisui yawns and sleepily grabs for the bags, ruffling his hair to try and even it out. "Why are we moving into the compound? I thought only the main branch lives there."
At this, the grin on Homare's face dims a little. "Well, Mikoto-chan is just so much fun we decided to live closer to her and her family. You're friends with Itachi-chan, right? You both can train together without having to walk all the way to the training grounds," She's babbling now, the words flowing out in quick pieces as she runs her hands through the empty cotton bags, fidgeting with the perfectly workable zipper. She frowns down at it before leveling a soft stare back at Shisui.
"C'mon, let's go get your father from the hospital before he gets even more stir crazy," She says, carefully walking over the few who are still asleep in their futons. Shisui follows his mother's footsteps.
"Have you noticed anything strange, Itachi-kun?" He asks one day, eyes gazing up at the unobstructed sky above. Itachi had recently been publicly recognized as an adult for his successful Grand Fireball Jutsu, but the -kun still feels weird in Shisui's mouth.
Itachi hesitates, thinking, working that brain of his until it churns out something profound and consequential—
"I think Karai-obaasan is opening up a new shop in the district today?"
Shisui snorts. Well, people can't be geniuses all the time.
"Yeah, that must be it," He humorlessly says, kicking a stray pebble in his way. "So, why are you back at the shrine, anyway? I thought you and everyone else got a place at the new compound. By the way, nice getup," Shisui comments, grinning.
Itachi tucks a stray hair over his ear, turning his face away in what anyone else would think of as dismissal, but Shisui spots the slight flush to his ears, letting a small smile pull over his face at Itachi's easy tendency towards embarrassment.
"My lineage worships Amaterasu," Itachi says, pausing on the steps. For all his natural grace, he clearly looks uncomfortable in the strict black and red yukata. "But I pay my respects to Tsukuyomi when I can."
Shisui gives a wry smile. "So you're cheating on Amaterasu with the goddess of illusions and the moon, huh? I wouldn't have pegged you for a womanizer," He teases.
Itachi rolls his eyes. "Kaa-san asks me to. Besides, there are only three Uchiha patrons to choose from, don't be crass," He says, stepping upwards to the shrine. Shisui quickly follows, careful not to press chakra into the sacred steps.
"What does your part of the family follow? By your comment, I would guess the goddess Amaterasu," Itachi says.
Shisui clears his throat, feeling a little embarrassed for reasons he could not name. "Susanoo, actually. The last one."
Itachi gives him a side-eye. "That one is a bit unusual, isn't it?"
"Well, the god of protection and the sea isn't as fancy as using black fire or genjutsu, but they get the job done," Shisui answers, voice cheerful. When you're visibly part of the Kagami lineage and have unofficially outpaced the clan heir, you learn to deal with the little irregularities of life. "Besides, it's not like I chose it. Can't exactly ask my ancestors why they picked them."
Itachi hums. "Careful, you might get cursed for those comments."
Shisui tries to stumble Itachi with a quick chakra string to the exposed ankle, earning him a loud thwap of an elaborate fan to the shoulder as Shisui's laughter rings out across the hill.
There's a sickening crack as Itachi fractures a part of Shisui's cheekbone with his armored fist.
"Again," Fugaku commands.
Shisui rips his hand away from the area, resisting the instinctual urge to cup it as he readies his position for an attack. The sharp throb melts away as Shisui meets Itachi's underdeveloped sharingan with his own three-tomoe, adrenaline guiding them both into a flurry of fists and jutsu.
Shisui manages to get the jump on Itachi with a timed kawarimi, letting the log take a slash of the katana as Shisui raises a dirty kunai to the sweat-soaked skin of Itachi's throat.
"Fugaku-sama, permission to take a break?" He asks after Itachi lowers his hands in surrender, voice strained.
"Denied," Fugaku announces. Shisui tries not to grit his teeth, aware it would only aggravate his injury. "Again."
They go through the motions again, Itachi now pressing into his space faster, weapon carrying his shorter range inside Shisui's vulnerable bubble with more ruthlessness than opponents twice his age.
It is a little scary, Shisui thinks, how quickly Itachi climbs after him in skill.
It's at this thought that Shisui realizes Itachi has gotten far enough away for a Grand Fireball Jutsu. The flames lick his arms as he flashes away and takes out his grandfather's tanto, the solid grip reassuring his path as Itachi's sharingan eyes widen at Shisui's sudden appearance to his side, right where Itachi holds his katana. Shisui grins.
They both freeze as a spray of blood hits the ground.
Shisui clutches his leg as Itachi's wide eyes accusingly follow the soaked length of his katana, red dripping down into the soft grass like a physical accusation. He drops it like it burns.
"Shisui-kun!" Fugaku urgently barks out. He quickly walks to where Shisui is clutching his leg, pulling off his blood-soaked hands to look at the wound more clearly.
He sighs after a brief moment, shoulders dropping in relief. "You'll be fine, it's a minor wound. Have Itachi bring you to the hospital."
He scowls at the deep cut on Shisui's leg, redirecting his gaze towards the clan heir. "You can't afford to be making these types of mistakes, Itachi. Especially when you're already ten years old."
Itachi flinches and bows. "Yes, Tou-san."
"You both should be striving towards ANBU right now," Fugaku mutters, the words pointed at someone other than Itachi and Shisui. He puts his hand on his knee and stands up, nodding at Shisui. "Both of you take the day off. I'll be at my office if you need me." With that, he walks off, the clan head emblem on his waist flapping through the breeze.
"You didn't have to do that," Itachi says, voice quiet and solemn. "I know you could have dodged that. He would've given us a break eventually."
Shisui gives his friend a pained smile, careful not to point out the trembling limbs and pleading eyes. "Maybe I just did it for myself," He bluffs.
Itachi just stares at him, black eyes looking back with an emotion Shisui can't quite place. He doesn't say anything more, simply placing his hands around Shisui's waist in support as they slowly walk towards the hospital.
The ache in his eyes doesn't disappear.
"After successfully applying a vertigo genjutsu, the target was eliminated via kunai stab to the jugular artery. Procedural identification and disposal of the body were followed." Shisui finishes giving his report to the Hokage, secretarial chunin notably absent. He still isn't used to the informal processes required for ANBU and, frankly, he kind of prefers this to spending hours writing pages of reports.
The sun shines behind his Hokage, shadows casting deeper lines into his aged face. "You've done well, Shisui-kun, especially considering your fourteen years of age." He pauses for a moment, taking his time refilling his pipe. Shisui stays kneeled, head bowed and ignoring the wariness in his bones.
"Are you fit enough to take another mission?" The Hokage asks. A flash of Fugaku's face during a lecture on his responsibilities pierces his memory, and Shisui resists the urge to grimace.
"I am, Hokage-sama."
"Good." He nods. "Here are your mission parameters."
An ANBU guard materializes, throwing him a mission scroll. Shisui catches and opens it, scanning the kanji with his sharingan.
"This A-rank mission is delicate and requires your use of expertise," The Hokage says, "Danzo-san will fill you in on the details."
Shisui's head snaps up. It is not unusual for advisors to sit in on mission debriefs, but with only one advisor present? Not so common.
A chill runs up Shisui's spine as a voice in his head goes careful, careful.
He warily watches as the Hokage stands up and walks towards the door, opening it to reveal Danzo Shimura on the other side. Danzo bows to the Hokage, and the Hokage nods back, disappearing into the hallway without another word.
Shisui carefully does not tense. The display feels significant, and not in a good way.
"Hello, Shimura-sama." He turns, bowing.
Danzo inclines his head. "I've heard many positive stories regarding your exploits within the field. I hope you will not disappoint." His one-eyed stare is pointed. Shisui says nothing, waiting for him to continue.
Danzo's body language relaxes. "Your scroll says that you will engage in administrative meetings with the Tea Village's head merchant regarding proof of sufficient cotton production. However, your main goal will be to influence the village's military general into supplying us with children with an affinity for chakra for the purpose of expanding our military force. Such a request has not been officially done since before Uzushiogakure fell, so the mission requires utmost cautiousness. The general will be particularly unwilling to agree to such a request. If he is convinced, the daimyo will agree to Konoha's deal."
Shisui can't help but feel puzzled. "I am not trained in high-ranked diplomacy, Shimura-sama."
Danzo tsks. "I can see that quite clearly, considering your lack of knowledge in wording. I shall speak plainly: you are to use your genjutsu abilities to make the transaction with the head military general possible. This is to be done discreetly, by whatever means necessary. This includes sabotage, elimination of any witnesses, and the establishment of personal relationships."
Shisui takes a beat, thinking quickly.
"Shimura-sama," he begins, voice hesitant, "The type of subtle genjutsu needed for such a short-term mission requires combining high emotionality and physical closeness for increased, repeated periods of time."
"I am aware." Danzo states.
A second of silence.
"Shimura-sama?" He asks, feet rooted to the spot.
"This is your mission," Danzo reaffirms. "It will guarantee a place for you in our elite section of ANBU. I am under the assumption Uchiha Fugaku would prefer his clansmen under my jurisdiction, yes?" He dryly comments.
Shisui suddenly feels very old and very, very young.
I thought clan children didn't get these sort of missions, Shisui thinks, tongue heavy in his mouth.
The Uchiha aren't socially considered a Konoha clan anymore, a cruel voice whispers back. And you aren't a child, not legally.
"Thank you for the opportunity, Shimura-sama."
Shisui grips the scroll and bows, footsteps echoing across the wooden panels.
"I'm home."
Shisui kicks off his shoes, the bone-deep weariness from the debrief drilling deeper into him as he steps closer to the front door.
"Come and have a seat in the kitchen, I'm reheating leftovers your dad left us!" His mom's voice echoes across the hallway.
"I'll have to leave in two hours for another long mission!" He yells back, but obediently pads towards the noise of clanging steel. He doesn't feel less tired, but a sense of security washes over him while he walks on the familiar wood.
His mother smiles at him from the kitchen counter, hands moving to remove the apron tied in a complicated knot. "Sit down, I'm almost ready."
Shisui takes a moment to look at his mom, silently watching her curly hair sway with her movements. His breathing picks up as he clenches and unclenches his hands to get rid of the growing anxiety within his gut.
"Kaa-san, have you ever refused a mission?" He blurts out.
His mother stops. Shisui doesn't look at her.
"Some shinobi refuse certain missions, with good excuses," She says, voice measured, "The Uchiha clan is not known for turning difficult missions down." The sentence is pointed. Shisui bottles down a grimace at his mother's words.
He continues to look down to the floor, following his mother's movements in the corner of his eye.
"Even if the mission is disgraceful?" He whispers.
His mother turns around, slapping the towel in her hand to the counter. Shisui doesn't flinch at the noise.
"What is this about?" She asks, tone hard and hands on her hip. It's at these moments that Shisui remembers that she can be a kunoichi before a mother.
To his internal horror, Shisui's lip begins to tremble.
"Kaa-san, I don't think I can do this anymore," He stutters out. His eyes burn with the start of tears as the blood rushes up to his face. He's just so tired, so tired of the pain, the nightmares, the dead children, his gory, terrible deaths. "I think- I think I don't want to be a shinobi!" He chokes out, "That I can't be one—"
He hears the slap before he feels it.
Silence hangs in the air.
"I didn't raise a child," She begins, voice quiet, but trembling with emotion, "For it to be a coward and a fool."
Shisui says nothing, keeping his head in the same position the momentum from the slap put it.
Homare stands up, the soft sound of feet padding towards the shoji in tandem with the blood pulsing around Shisui's inflamed cheek. She stops before reaching the frame.
"For your own sake, don't say that again. Especially in public."
Shisui dares to look back at the voice. His mother's eyes look back with fear.
The sound of the shoji sliding shut is overwhelmingly gentle.
Notes:
NOW we're gonna get into the meat of the story hehehe... See you next week!
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