The response I've had for this has been largely positive, so here's the next chapter. Nothing so jarring as the prologue, I promise.
It was a long time before Kyou accepted she was not, in fact, dreaming. Nightmaring? How much time, she wasn't sure, since all she seemed to do was eat, sleep, shit, repeat. Her vision was blurry and her body, well, a baby's, so for the longest time her world consisted of a scratchy, reddish brown blanket on a stiff mattress. She lay on her back beside her mother, the pale woman never looking her way or speaking, only every moving at the prompting of another, older woman who came over at regular intervals to change Kyou and press her to her mother's chest to feed—which, weird, but ok. Something was obviously wrong with her mother. Something more than being married to a baby murdering assfuck.
Speaking of.
Satan was the only person whose face she ever saw clearly. The moment she realized who she was looking at, her vision cleared to the highest definition. Every wrinkle and scar, every nose hair, was in sharp focus as she leveled her meanest glares on him, chanting die die die with all the menace she could muster. Not that it fazed him. If anything, he seemed to get a kick out of it, cradling her with a half smile that tugged at his scar and made him as ugly on the outside as he was within. It clearly wasn't an expression he was used to making, if the deep frown lines around his mouth and between his brows were any indication.
Today, Satan seemed especially cheery. He actually cooed at her, cooed, drawing out her new name in a way that had goosebumps rising on her skin. She tried to hit him, tiny fist doing zero damage and eliciting a laugh from the vicious man. He said something in that language she swore she recognized, likely to her caretaker, and carried her away.
Anxiety flooded her system. Where was he taking her? Was he finally getting rid of her?
Her fear translated into baby style fussing, her pale fists striking out at him as she scrunched her eyes closed in the face of bright sunlight. Wow, her eyes were sensitive. Voices she didn't recognize engaged the demon in conversation, foreign hands poking at her face and running fingers through her hair.
Rude!
She opened her eyes to glare at the interlopers and the ladies—black hair, black eyes, sunken cheeks in too pale faces—jerked their hands back with audible gasps before exchanging rapid fire words with Satan. Huh. Sure, she'd wanted them to stop touching her, but her glares never worked on Satan. Was…was there something wrong with her eyes?
The ladies turned and walked away, and Kyou's still sharp gaze was drawn to a pop of color on the backs of their dark dresses.
What the fuck?
Like, the actual fuck?
Was she reincarnated into a family of hella intense larpers? That was the only feasible explanation for that symbol.
Satan carried her away, leaning her against him so she was looking over his shoulder. She wriggled until she could see down his back and caught a glimpse of red and white on the back of what she now recognized was a dark kimono. Yukata?
The language must be Japanese, then. That's why she recognized it without understanding it—familiarity born of a youth well spent. If only real life had subtitles.
The blinding light of the sun gave way to pleasant darkness and Kyou found herself indoors, again. There were more voices, but she was thankfully left unprodded as Satan moved through a building much larger than their home. God, being a baby sucked. She wanted to turn her head, to actually see where she was going, but no. She was stuck looking over Satan's shoulder like a Renaissance demon. Her vision was blurry again, so the people they passed were all pale, indistinct blobs. Satan's voice rumbled beneath her, and Kyou took the opportunity to whack the side of his head.
Can't blame a baby for doing baby things, right?
Naturally, he was completely unfazed. One day. One day she'd avenge her brother. She'd leave Satan bleeding in the dirt and run away with her mother.
Suddenly, she was handed off to someone else, Satan's voice introducing her as he handed her off. The new hands were smaller than her father's, softer, and the face she looked up at was round with large eyes.
A kid, then. With the same dark hair and eyes as everyone else.
The sandy foundations of her larping theory were swiftly crumbling. How the hell would they find so many people who looked exactly alike? Kids, too!
Did she look like that?
God, she hoped not.
The kid holding her smiled, his face close enough for her to recognize the expression despite her blurry vision. Hmm. Could she get away with hitting this kid? Satan never even flinched whenever she whacked him, but, maybe…just maybe….
Three year old Izuna stared down at Shuji-san's baby, the little boy meeting his gaze evenly with sharp eyes. Kyou-kun was the newest addition to the Uchiha Clan—and the most pitiful, according to his mother. Shuji's wife was sick—the odd emphasis everyone put on the word told him it wasn't the normal kind—and Kyou's twin hadn't survived his first day. That was why Shuji had waited so long before bringing Kyou to meet the elders. He wanted to be sure the baby would live.
Kyou didn't look like a sick baby, though, and Izuna was glad to finally meet his little cousin. Shuji was second cousins with Izuna's father, Tajima, but he never really visited. Privately, Izuna considered his uncle more than a little scary, the familiar Uchiha scowl somehow terrible on his scarred face. Kyou looked alright, though. Normal. Like all the other babies he'd seen before.
A new light entered the baby's dark eyes, then, and Izuna looked down at his cousin nervously. He wasn't pooping, was he?
Whack!
Izuna stared, agog, at the baby in his arms, tiny fist waving in the air as he cooed with delight.
"Izuna-kun," Shuji-san called from within the meeting hall. "Can you bring Kyou in, please?"
Inside the hall, Shuji was kneeling in the center of the room, facing a line of kneeling old men with Tajima sitting off to one side. Izuna stepped forward and bowed to the elders, arms tightening around the baby. Once receiving a dismissal, he turned to hand Kyou-kun back to his father.
"Ah," Shuji's terrifying face softened at the sight of his son. "Come here, Kyou."
Tajima inhaled sharply, leaping to his feet as his cousin cradled the baby.
"Shuji! What is that?"
Izuna stared up at his father, confused by his uncharacteristic actions. What was wrong with Kyou? He looked like a normal baby to Izuna.
Shuji chuckled lowly, turning the infant in his arms so everyone could see whatever it was that had startled Tajima so badly. The stuffy old men broke out into loud discussion, throwing around words like "impossible" and "kai". Izuna shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his curiosity breaking through his discipline rather easily. Luckily, Tajima was too distracted to reprimand him. Quietly, he crept forward until he could see his little cousin's face and froze.
How? How could a baby have a sharingan? Not even Anija had one, yet!
"Shuji-kun," Junsuke-jii-sama said, taking control of the situation with a sharp gesture and sharper tone. "What is the meaning of this?"
Shuji bowed his head to the elder. "Apologies, elders, Tajima-sama. I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to be sure Kyou would live long enough for such a revelation to have meaning. His brother…" The elders expressed their understanding and condolences, all the while urging him to continue. "Kyou's sharingan activated shortly after his brother's death. I was lucky enough to be home to witness it and I have strived to ensure his survival these past several weeks."
Tajima hummed in consideration, crossing his arms over his chest. "So that's why you've been turning down mission requests."
Shuji bowed in agreement. "Yes, Tajima-sama. I beg your understanding and forgiveness."
Izuna watched, amazed, as his father waved away his cousin's apology. Tajima had complained loudly of Shuji's sudden hesitance, calling him all manner of rude names in the privacy of their home. Now, he simply sighed.
"That boy will prove an asset to the Clan," he said with a frown. "You did the right thing."
Shuji passed his son over to a beckoning elder and visibly preened as the old men crowded around the increasingly surly baby. Izuna winced in sympathy as Junsuke-jii-sama fell victim to the child's swift fist.
"Hoho, the boy's already a fighter," the old man said with approval thick in his voice. "Well done, Shuji-kun, well done."
Izuna swallowed thickly as his father's expression grew darker than he'd ever seen it, all while Shuji's lopsided smile shone brighter.
"The boy still has a ways to go," Tajima interjected. "When will you begin training him, cousin?"
"I'm planning on three years old, like everyone else, but if he shows an aptitude we may start sooner, Tajima-sama."
"Hmm, don't push him too hard, cousin. It would be a waste to lose such a talent to misplaced ambition."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Tajima-sama. I only wish to assist my son in reaching his fullest potential, as you do yours."
Izuna watched the back and forth with mounting unease. There was something going on that he couldn't quite understand, but it was filling the air with a tension thick enough to cut. Tajima scowled at his cousin who simply smiled in return. This was not their usual dynamic, and Izuna desperately wished to remove himself from the meeting hall.
"Izuna," his father said, eyes never leaving Shuji-san's face. "Go home."
With a quick bow, he all but threw himself from the room, rushing down the halls and out into the village. No one payed him much mind as he ran full speed to his home. It was one of the larger buildings, with three separate rooms and a sizeable porch. Many of the other children had expressed envy over his position as Clan Head's son, but he knew it was more over his house than anything else. Most children had to share with an ever growing number of siblings, but he and Anija had their own rooms. His mother looked up from her sewing when he entered, dark eyes wide with surprise.
"Izuna-kun, what is it?" Her voice was soft and soother his ruffled feathers easily. "What's got you so upset?"
"Kyou has a sharingan," he blurted without preamble. "He's just a baby and he has a sharingan and father is mad and—."
"Woah, now," his mother chuckled as she held a hand to his lips, forcing him to stop his ramble. "Slow down, Izuna-kun. Breathe."
He did so, taking a deep, steadying breath before trying again. "Shuji-san's baby has a sharingan. I saw it when he presented him to the elders. Father's not happy about it, though. Isn't that a good thing?"
Even as he asked, he knew it wasn't. It couldn't be, when his mother frowned like that. She ran slender fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.
"You mean Shuji and Hitomi's baby? I thought he died?"
Izuna shook his head, impatient. "One did, but they were twins! Shuji-san said Kyou-kun's sharingan activated after his brother died."
His mother's expression soured further. "I see."
He tugged at the sleeve of her dark kimono. "Mother, why is that a bad thing? Isn't it good that we have someone strong in the Clan?"
Her scowl lost its edge as she looked down at him. "Oh, Izuna, it is good for the Clan, but not for your brother."
"Anija? What could a baby ever do to him? Anija's the best!"
His mother smiled wanly in response, running her fingers through his hair. "Yes, yes he is."
That wasn't an answer, but Izuna recognized it as the closest he'd get to one and let the subject drop. His parents would likely discuss it once father and Anija returned for the night, and he'd get his answers then.
One way or another.