(Author's Note: Thanks for reading so far! I'll probably post another chapter sometime this week, since the draft is pretty far ahead. On that note, today I have an important question which will define the future of the story: if the twins were to become ninja, would you prefer them to be on teams with canon characters or OCs? I refuse to give spoilers, but I'm stalling a bit on that specific part and can't write much further until I decide. If I used a team with canon characters, I may go with major or at least relatively significant characters, or just use elevated background characters who never appear outside a couple chapters. I'm also a bit torn on who the jounin sensei would be, I'd love some input from you guys.
And a more fun and purely hypothetical question: if the twins were to be shoehorned into canon teams by replacing one of the characters (a la almost every self-insert with Sakura and Team Seven), which teams do you think would be the most fun? Personally I think Akari would fit in really well with Team Eight if she took Hinata's place, while Masaru would be traumatized after one hour with Team Gai no matter who he replaced. Pretty sure only Tenten wouldn't leave him in desperate need of a therapist.
Anyways, enjoy the chapter!)
Chapter 3
"Mother knows best. Unless she doesn't. Moms aren't omnipotent, they're flawed human beings just like everyone else. They just hope they know best, because if it turns out they don't, then their kids are totally screwed. Verdict's still out on my mom."
"I think my body runs hotter than everyone else's," Akari complained with a scowl as she sprawled on her futon wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts. Sweat visibly glistened on her skin even in the dimness of their bedroom, her brown hair a tangled mess from tossing and turning so much. Masaru suspected he didn't look much better, as he had stripped down to his boxers and thrown his blankets aside, and he still felt too hot. An abnormal heat wave had struck Konoha for the past two days, and now at three AM both twins felt like their room had turned into a sauna. Fans simply didn't seem to be cutting it anymore, and their house was an older one and thus tragically lacked a central air system that some of the newer houses possessed.
"Maybe we should ask mom to get an air conditioner thing for our room," he suggested, fiddling with his hair with a small scowl. Currently the unruly locks reached his shoulders, and with the heat wave the extra warmth on his neck was unbearable. Sweat rendered half the matted locks sticky and damp, the moisture probably adding to its weight. At least Akari could tie her hair into buns or pigtails, but Masaru simply lacked that option. Wrestling it into submission with a brush proved futile, he'd actually broken a couple brushes, so right now his hair was a giant tangled mess that was simply too thick to tie up.
Maybe he should cut it. Some ninja cut their hair with kunai, right? Considering it, he tugged at a strand towards the side of his head to study it thoughtfully only to wince when half his hair lifted with it with a painful pinch to his skull. Dear kami, it was worse than he thought. He could not possibly cut it when it was this tangled and unruly, there was no way to make sure it turned out even remotely nice and even. Hell, at this rate they might have to shave it all off and go with a buzz cut. His hair seemed to be just a single mass at this point, there might be no hope.
"Hair trouble?" Akari teased, and he shot her a dark scowl.
"I'm shaving it off in the morning," he declared flatly, and his mood worsened when sister giggled. Shaving his head did not appeal to him one bit. Masaru liked his hair, he thought it was the only cool thing about his physical features. His mind wandered back to his early childhood, seated on a bench with his sister as they watched their mother paint. Elegant, simple brush strokes coalesced to form a distinct figure, a regal-looking male in a high-collared kimono with heavily lined eyes and a cool and stoic frown.
"Indra's hair," Ryoko mused aloud, adding thick strokes to form a tangle of unruly locks to frame his face. "You have Indra's hair, Masa-kun."
"No fair, I want cool hair like Indra's too," Akari whined, tugging at her pigtails. Compared to the cool portrait of the super-powerful mythical son of the Sage of Six Paths, her straight brown hair felt absolutely lame in comparison. Ryoko offered her a smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Oh, shush, your hair is beautiful," Ryoko commented, shooting her an amused smile. "And besides, in a few years, your brother will probably be jealous of you."
"I doubt it," Akari huffed, crossing her arms with a pout.
Of course, as always, Ryoko was right. Right now Masaru absolutely envied his twin sister's cooperative hair. Funny how he had the most hair troubles of them when usually girls were the ones fussy about that stuff. Frankly, at this point he figured the only reason his classmates didn't mock him for his hair was because it looked cool. Metaphorically of course. If it was literally cool, he wouldn't be having this issue.
In the present his sister rose to her feet, drawing him away from his thoughts. "I'm gonna get some water from the kitchen."
"Get me one too," Masaru requested, flopping onto his back. His sister shot him an unamused look.
"Why can't you get a glass for yourself?" she questioned, and he waved a hand dismissively.
"I'm too hot to move. Besides, you're way quieter than me." Recently the frequency of late-night visitors had increased again after a long period of decline, so whenever the twins had to leave their room at night they tried to make as little noise as possible. In terms of stealth Akari had Masaru beat by a long shot, fully aware of the loudest squeaky spots on the floor boards between their room and the kitchen.
"Stop being a baby. If I can find the energy to move, so can you. No one's here anyway."
"How do you even know no one's here? They never make any noise, they're obviously ninja." Smirking lazily, she lifted a finger to her lips and winked, her eyes sparkling with smug satisfaction.
"Secret," she whispered.
That still didn't stop him from throwing a pillow at her face.
Sprawling on his futon while he waited for his sister to return, Masaru just scowled at the ceiling, mentally grumbling to himself. He loved Akari, but sometimes she really got on his nerves. She had a lot of little secrets like that, just little things she hinted at but never talked about. Masaru knew for a fact that she did not go to a friend's house almost every day after school like she told Ryoko, it's not like any of their classmates would invite her. Whenever he tried to follow her she managed to notice him, sometimes she even led him on wild goose chases. It really annoyed him.
It suddenly occurred to Masaru that he might be more irritable than usual right now because he was just too hot. Maybe he should ask their mom about moving to a house with central air.
The click of the door opening broke him from his thoughts, and he turned to face Akari expectantly. "Do you think we should move?" he asked, but then paused when he saw her hands were empty. "Akari? Where's the water?"
"I didn't get any," she whispered, stalking over to her futon and plopping down. Alarm bells went off as she tucked her knees to her chest and buried her face in them, further signifying something was wrong. Masaru quickly joined her and sat next to her, poking her shoulder with a frown.
"Akari? What happened?"
"When I was on my way to the kitchen, I thought I heard mom crying," she told him quietly, shaking her head slowly without looking at him. "I followed it to her study, and when I got closer I could hear her whimpering. It sounded like... like she was having a nightmare." Admitting it made her wince, and Masaru involuntarily flinched as well, his face distorting into a grimace. Foggy memories of blood-curdling screams and hysterical sobs in the darkest hours of night surfaced, a young toddler version of himself curling together with his sister as they waited for the cries to stop. A heavy chill washed through his body, a giant shiver coursing from head to spine.
"I thought they stopped when we entered the academy," he whispered, and Akari just shrugged, rolling her head onto her arms to stare to the side.
"Or maybe she just got better at hiding them," she replied quietly.
As the school year drew on, Sasuke grew increasingly quiet and withdrawn. A certain tension began to settle over the main house of the Uchiha clan, a sense of unease and unrest lingering in the air at all times.
Originally when the training sessions had begun, Itachi had tried to make time in his busy schedule to watch them and offer his input on their progress, but his visits gradually decreased. Eventually it reached a point where the twins almost never saw the Uchiha heir, both at the house or anywhere else in the compound. They rarely saw Uchiha Fugaku either. The stern man's time seemed to be spent away from home or in his private office, too occupied with his job as the chief of the Konoha Military Police and his obligations as the clan head to make time for three academy students. The few times he did make an appearance, he would watch them for only a couple of minutes and grunt some brief comment on their technique before leaving.
"Sasuke-kun really wants his approval," Akari noted after one visit. "Did you see the disappointment on his face when Fugaku-sama left?"
Masaru frowned as he thought back to their few encounters with the man. Honestly, he'd been too distracted by Fugaku's imposing presence to notice anything unusual about Sasuke's behavior. "I'll take your word for it," he decided, and they left it at that.
As the training sessions continued the tension in the main house gradually grew too intense to bear, so when Akari suggested moving their sessions to their own house Sasuke jumped on the idea. Ryoko welcomed the change cheerfully, treating the visits with the same enthusiasm as Mikoto. Every Friday when the three Uchiha children arrived fresh from the academy she had an apple, a tomato and a peach waiting for them on the table, and the trio eagerly devoured the snacks before heading outside to spar. Occasionally Mikoto would be there too, she and Ryoko hanging back and chatting lightly about various topics the kids didn't care for as they supervised the sparring matches.
Seeing their mothers get along so well encouraged the children to try again to strengthen their own bonds and increase their time spent together. Alas, fate had different plans though. They got through three days of having lunch together before Akari declared she hated fan girls with a passion and stomped off to plot her revenge. And of course, without her as a buffer Sasuke and Masaru fell into that awkward silence. They could only discuss sparring so much without actually demonstrating it, and attempts at conversations about other topics fizzled out for various reasons.
Aside from that, Masaru's semi-sort-of-maybe-maybe-not-friendship with Naruto seemed to be making progress (maybe), and at least proved a nice distraction from all the weird tension at home. They did have lunch together a couple times, but they didn't talk too much. Most of those periods were spent with Naruto complaining about the teachers and how boring he found the subjects, while Masaru just nodded along quietly and maybe contributed a point here or there.
Generally though, Masaru found himself still more comfortable talking to his uncle's grave than anyone with a pulse.
"I'm really weird, aren't I?" he mused aloud during one of his weekly visits. "I mean, I never even met you, but here I am visiting you every week and telling you stories. I don't even visit dad's grave this much."
His own words gave him pause, frowning slightly as he contemplated it. The young Uchiha twins had never actually met their father. Photos of the man adorned the walls of their house, showcasing his growth from a scraggly young genin proudly displaying his hitai-ate to a noble-looking young man who radiated confidence. According to Ryoko, he had died before they were even born, losing his life on a mission shortly after learning of her pregnancy. Unlike many shinobi who perished during missions outside the village, his teammates had been able to retrieve his body and bring it back for a proper burial. They visited his grave every year on his birthday, their mother preparing an elaborate picnic for the occasion made with his favorite foods and regaling them with endless tales about his jovial and easygoing nature.
Strangely, she rarely spoke about him outside of those visits though. Ryoko talked more about their uncle—who was in fact a distant cousin rather than her actual brother—but Masaru knew it had nothing to do with any distance between his parents. Deep longing glimmered in her eyes whenever she spoke about him, her mouth curving into a soft, unconscious smile filled with fondness and yearning. No, their mother absolutely loved him, and his death had left a void in her heart that still ached to his day, even the happiest memories tainted by the knowledge she'd never see him again.
"Mom once told us that the Uchiha love too much," he mused quietly, reclining on the grass to stare at the sky. Thick clouds rolled overhead and blotted out the sun, casting a grayish tint over the world that left the colors in the cemetery more muted. "She said we get too attached, and so when someone we really love dies, a piece of us dies too. I don't know if that's true or not, but if it is, I think that's sad."
It made him wonder about his clan, and how many people would have lost loved ones over the long centuries of war and carnage. Did any of them break because of it? Did anyone follow their loved ones to death? What if Ryoko—
Masaru cut his musings there, deciding his thoughts were getting too depressing. He blamed it on the weather, it just made everything feel a bit bleak and somber.
Deciding he'd stayed long enough, the boy got to his feet and picked up the bucket he'd brought to clean the grave, giving the stone slab a small bow. "I should get home, it'll be dinner time soon. I'll see you next week."
The walk from the cemetery to the Uchiha clan compound was always peaceful, the path connecting them winding through a small cluster of trees that always felt serene and peaceful. As he passed through the gates of the compound and headed down the ever-busy main street, he couldn't help but glance at his clansmen and think about just how much they felt like strangers. Sure, he saw their faces every day, but he couldn't place a name to them. They never actually interacted, never called out to him like they would for Sasuke and ask about how his day at the academy was. Despite the incredible familiarity with their appearances Masaru knew nothing about his relatives, and he suspected they knew just as little about him as—
"Masaru-kun?"
Startled to hear a voice behind him, Masaru spun around so fast the bucket arced upwards and the water inside splashed onto him, thoroughly drenching him. He flinched as the cold swiftly seeped through his shirt and shorts, his nose wrinkling as he shivered. Wet clothes definitely ranked high on his list of most uncomfortable experiences. Grimacing, he raised his head only to freeze when he saw Uchiha Mikoto standing behind him, watching him with a concerned gaze. Oh right, someone called his name.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized. "Here, let me carry the bucket so we can go to your house and you can change." As she spoke she extended her hands to him to take the bucket, and Masaru obediently passed it to her, not in the mood to carry it any more. The damp fabric of his clothes already clung to his body, uncomfortably rubbing against his skin and squishing audibly with each step, but he pushed his discomfort out of his mind as they set off. He snuck a glance at the Uchiha matriarch to distract himself. Her lips pressed into a tight frown as she walked through the compound, and Masaru had to jog to keep up with her as she moved at a somewhat fast pace which suggested a sense of urgency that didn't fit the situation.
This wasn't right, his instincts warned. Even if wearing partially-wet clothing was uncomfortable and probably unhealthy, Mikoto's concern seemed a bit too strong for the situation. "Mikoto-san?" he ventured hesitantly. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"
He almost bumped into the woman when she abruptly halted, her body momentarily stiff and rigid before her shoulders sagged and she turned to face him. Bending forward slightly so their eyes were more level, Masaru found himself almost paralyzed as he noted the unusually grave look on her face. It only solidified the dread growing in his stomach, his heart already sinking in anticipation of her response.
"An hour ago Akari-chan suddenly collapsed in the middle of target practice. She and your mother are at the hospital right now."
