Itachi tried to be kind. He really did. But no matter how much he tried, it never seemed to translate to something other people could understand. He did his best to fulfill, no, exceed expectations in his classes, defeating his classmates cleanly and efficiently. But instead of accepting they were defeated and standing up again, they would always burst into tears. He didn't understand. He tried to tell them what they did was wrong, to help them learn and improve, but they just glared at him and called him mean. And when the teacher repeated what he said, they just glared at him and hated him even more.
Even when he graduated, it was the same. He strove hard to excel in his training, repeating katas and practicing jutsus until everything was polished to perfection. He knew every little thing he learned would only increase his efficiency and chances of survival, and yet his teammates still looked at him like he was a monster. When he walked down the streets, people whispered about the youngest Uchiha genin, the great Uchiha heir. They gave him candy and showered him with compliments, but he could only feel their awe, never any care.
He strove to become the best shinobi he could be, so that he could make his family proud and serve his village well. His classmates didn't want to go near him and his teammates didn't want anything to do with him. So he poured himself into training, stacking promotion after promotion, until they recruited him straight into ANBU. (Because in the end, what else did he have if he wasn't the perfect Uchiha prodigy?)
People called him cold, he knew. He knew Gama-san liked to call him The Little Iceberg when he didn't think he was around to hear. It hurt, a bit, but by that time he knew how to push the feeling away. They were there to perform a job, weren't they? His father always valued professionalism and strength above all else. And it was effective—after all, he made it this far, hadn't he? ANBU at the age of twelve, an unheard-of record in the village. What did it matter what people thought of him?
None of his team mates ever saw the time he hoarded like gold to spend with his little brother. None of his classmates heard the tentative care he put into critiques of their technique, hearing criticism instead of help. None of the civilians saw his clumsy offers of help, always scrambling to serve him instead. So he trained.
(If they wanted him to be a figurehead, then he will be a figurehead.)
The incident at the dango shop haunted him. He remembered his conflicted feelings as he left, brushing away the shopkeeper's bows and promises that "won't happen again, you can be sure of it, Uchiha-san!" He wasn't stupid; he knew that by "won't happen again" the woman meant that little Minako wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the shop at all. He could see the glint of steel in the woman's eyes for what it was. He wished he could have done more for Minako. But the little girl wouldn't even look at him in the eye before she fled.
Would it have been better if he had not interfered? Civilians never liked it when ninja interfered in their business. It was something he had experienced, time and time again, out in the field. Perhaps if he hadn't forced his hand, little Minako would have found a way to come back.
And yet, it was the ninja's duty to ensure peace reigned in Konoha. Moreover, it was the Uchiha's honor and duty to ensure peace in Konoha. The Second Hokage himself had given them that task.
So why did he see the civilians flinch away from the police more often than not? He could see the hesitation, almost like a stutter in their movement whenever they faced him or one of his relatives. It was only natural that they feared them, he supposed, because of the strength and skill the Uchiha have. But it was… disturbing. He knew of no other way to describe the feeling of nervous eyes flickering towards him or avoiding him.
And the more the civilians avoided the Uchiha, the more tempers grew. Something was brewing between his village and his clan. Itachi could sense it, in the angry muttering on the streets of his compound and his father's visitors in the middle of the night. He didn't know what it meant. His instincts told him he didn't want to know what it meant.
It had never been about what Itachi wanted.
It was a rare occasion to have the entire family together for breakfast in the morning. Itachi was often away, both on regular missions and on ANBU ones. Their father was often so busy, he would head straight to work, to read reports over breakfast there. It seemed today was an exception.
Sasuke was ecstatic. He put on his best behavior, raising his chopsticks with a focus that rice didn't deserve. A shinobi must show precision and grace in all things, their father had told them once. And so Sasuke tried to live it, by eating his breakfast without spilling a single grain.
The way his little brother sought their father's approval so eagerly made something in Itachi's chest hurt. Of course, otou-san did not acknowledge him at all, other than a question on his training progress at the end of the meal. When Sasuke replied with enthusiasm and pride at advancing to using ninja wire, his father just told him that Itachi had done better when he was four.
Itachi knew it was the Uchiha way. It was almost traditional for brothers to have a rivalry with each other. The elders encouraged it, in order to push them to the limits of their capabilities. It was what made the Uchiha clan strong.
It didn't stop Itachi's hands from curling into fists as Sasuke's bright smile slipped away.
"Itachi," their father said, turning away from Sasuke. "Do you have a mission today?"
Itachi stilled. "No, otou-san," he said. "We've been afforded some downtime after my last mission." The infiltration mission had lasted two months, what with how important it was that they weren't detected. Just getting them home took two weeks, when open travel could have them finish it in one.
"Then you have nothing to occupy you for the day." His father rose from the table, sparing a moment to nod to their mother, in thanks for the meal. "Meet me at the shrine."
The shrine? Itachi hid his confusion and said, "Yes, otou-san." He watched as the man disappeared down the hallway. Slowly, he unclenched his fists. He did not look forward to the meeting with his father. He had yet to experience one that went well for him.
And at so odd a place?
"I have to go," Sasuke said abruptly, pushing away from the table. Their mother rose to her feet.
"Don't forget your bento," she said, taking a bulky package from the corner. She handed it to Sasuke, who wobbled, but managed to hold on.
Itachi blinked, curiosity overwhelming his dread. "Okaa-san… why so large?"
Her smile was small and demure. All his life, Itachi had never seen his mother's calm façade break. "It's for Sasuke to share," she said.
"It is?" Sasuke eyed the bento, high enough to reach his chin.
"Yes. With the two children you wanted to introduce to me yesterday. Remember?" Their mother patted Sasuke's hair down. The dark strands stayed stubbornly pointed every which way.
Sasuke's nose scrunched up. "…Oh. Them." His confusion cleared. He looked more doubtful than excited. "Thanks, okaa-san," he said anyway.
Their mother turned to Itachi. "Go ahead and meet your father," she said. "I'll take care of this."
Itachi nodded and rose. Their father would not appreciate Itachi making him wait. Still, he was glad to hear that Sasuke was already making friends. He hadn't been able to pick him up from his first day at school… but maybe today, he can make it up to his little brother. "Sasuke," he called.
His brother looked up, just in time for Itachi's fingers to meet his forehead. He yelped and jumped back, unable to retaliate with his arms otherwise occupied. His pout brought a smile to Itachi's face. "Have fun at school today," Itachi said.
"Thanks, nii-san." Sasuke beamed. Itachi ruffled his hair, and headed off. Behind him, he heard their mother murmuring to Sasuke, her voice fading as he left.
It was worse than he feared.
There, under the shrine dedicated to his ancestors, his father spoke the words he hadn't wanted to hear.
"You will become the clan's eyes and ears within the ANBU. Learn their plans. Gauge their numbers. Find their weaknesses. In the name of the clan, and the honor our ancestors have passed down to us."
And, lastly, the damning words:
His father laid a hand on his shoulder at his shaky nod. "I'm proud of you, son," he said.
Itachi wandered the compound like a ghost. The words were like an electric current running up and down his spine. Up, down, and back again. Any other boy would have shivered. All Itachi could feel was the weight of his hitai-ate on his forehead and the sting of the tattoo on his arm, as if it was still less than a day old. His hand twitched, rising as if to touch it, only to drop back to his side.
How much sweat, blood and spit had gone to give him that brand? His father had fought tooth and nail to get him accepted into Konoha's elite fighting force. He had borne it as best as he could, tamping down every bit of fear and despair at the thought of more blood on his hands. Itachi would give his life for his village, even if it meant living through the horrors of taking the lives of others.
Every life ended meant another would be spared, and the village would be safe. It was this single thought that forced him out of the gates, again and again and bloody again.
Itachi wished, fleetingly, that he had been talented at something else. Something that involved saving lives, not taking them. Medicine, perhaps. Then he brushed the thought away. He was the Uchiha clan heir. There was no other path for him but blood. If he could use that blood to smoothen the way to peace for the village, then he would do what could. It was what he was good at, after all, and if it could help him serve the village and the clan then so much the better.
The village and the clan.
The clan who, through his father, had just asked him to betray the village.
Duty versus duty. His clan's honor versus the village's. And his father was making him choose.
No, not choose. He was a fool to even think it. There was no choice.
He was the clan heir. It was what was expected of him. What his father expected of him.
"Ah, isn't that Itachi-sama?" A pair of gossiping housewives pulled him out of his contemplation for the moment. He let his eyes flicker towards them, then away. They were civilians, rare in the Uchiha but not unheard of. Either way, it was thoughtless of them to believe he couldn't hear them at this distance.
"Ah yes, the hope and light of the Uchiha clan…" The way they spoke made it sound like a whisper of hope, or a prayer. The whole compound knew of his father's displeasure with the village, and the supposed… encouragement of the Uchiha shinobi to stay in the Police Force. The older ninja all but buzzed with frustration at it. They may not proclaim it from the rooftops, but word of mouth served well enough in a compound as tightly knit (geographically) as theirs.
"He looks so small… hearing about him, you forget just how young he is, don't you?"
Their compound, forever under guard… The clan, unpromoted in the ranks… The Hokage, denying all knowledge of such measures…
All this time, Itachi had believed this was the reason Fugaku had pushed so hard to get him into ANBU. His father had wished to remind Konoha of the strength and prowess of the Uchiha clan, and why it depended on them for security and power. And it had, though, Itachi suspected, not in the way his father expected.
Itachi was a very good listener. And what he heard about the other clan's thoughts on his father's efforts was not generous at all.
He had taken pride in his ANBU work, in the little ways that he could. And now that very same father was asking him to betray it.
"I heard that he is very close to his brother, though!"
"Well, I suppose no one is perfect…"
Itachi ignored the gossiping housewives. Walking would take too long, he decided. He leapt for the rooftops, leaving behind the sudden spike of irritation at the clueless women chattering away.
"The prideful, ambitious Uchiha clan." That was how the village viewed them all. It had taken a while for Itachi to notice, but he did. He thought it had been his age that made fellow ninja stop speaking the moment he stepped into earshot. Instead, it was unhappy mutterings about his clan demanding more than they deserved. His father's efforts only served to make him look aggressive, and power-hungry. Pleas to give more consideration to the clan translated to greedy demands in the eyes of others.
And there lay the ghost that Itachi was running from.
The Naka river's roar was a comforting hum in his ears. He slowed to a stop on top of a small cliff, near the edge of the Uchiha compound.
He knew tensions had been building between his clan and the village he served. What he didn't expect was the word his father had whispered, deep in the bowels of their clan's home.
"Coup…"
It terrified him. He could admit that, to himself, all alone on a cliffside with nothing but his thoughts. Ever since that fateful day when he was four, Itachi had dedicated his life and soul to the village. He had forged himself into a kunai for Konoha to use, in order to prevent such a disaster happening again. But now his family was threatening a war against his village, a civil war that would raze Konoha to the ground. And the little that's left would be smothered by the other nations when they saw their chance.
He couldn't let that happen.
"There you are!" Shisui made no other noise when he landed. As if he hadn't expected to find Itachi at their regular meeting place.
Itachi spared him a glance, but made no other move. He was used to his best friend's antics, as well as his penchant for appearing out of nowhere. Shisui, used to Itachi's nonreaction as well, crouched down beside him, an easy grin on his face. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
He leaned over, trying to catch Itachi's eye. Itachi, not in the mood, kept his gaze in the distance. With anyone else, the conversation would have died a quick, ugly death. Shisui just took it in stride.
"I'm surprised you didn't walk Sasuke to school," he said. "It's our day off, you should do something fun!"
Itachi gave Shisui a look. His friend burst out laughing, knowing full well Itachi's answer to that. "Oh, come on, I can handle a spar or two!"
"The medic nin said on no account were you to do anything near combat-related today," Itachi said, raising an eyebrow. Shisui grimaced.
"Ah, yes, glorious Yua-san. Do you think she's forgiven me for the petal incident yet?" Shisui cradled his head in his hands. His added pout was just pitiful.
"I told you, if you really wanted to win her over, you should have gone for the chocolate mochi instead." Despite his exasperation, Itachi couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. Shisui laughed and leaned back on his arms.
"Yeah, I should have listened to you. At least there would have been less of a mess." He ran a hand through his hair, before letting out a sigh and turning back to Itachi. "So what's bothering you?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
Itachi looked at his hands. If he could count the two bright things in his life, it would be Sasuke and Shisui. If Sasuke was the warm fire that kept back the cold, Shisui was the beacon that gave him a path in the darkness. Whenever he felt lost and alone, and even Sasuke's pure admiration became too suffocating for him, Shisui was there. Now he was lost again, but it was darker, deeper. The shadows crawling in were bigger than the both of them. The wrong word in the wrong place could send both his clan and his village toppling to the ground, and everything falling apart around him.
"Did you know?" he asked his only friend.
Shisui leaned forward. "Know about what?"
Itachi dragged the words up from the pit within his gut. "This morning," he said. "My father told me to meet him in the clan shrine…"
Shisui's eyes sharpened. That was all Itachi needed.
"It was Fugaku-sama who wanted to bring you in," Shisui explained, his mischievous air slipping away. Replacing it was the cold determination he only showed whenever they sparred. Perhaps in missions as well. "The others were skeptical, but he was adamant you could do it."
"And you agree with them?"
Shisui held Itachi's gaze. Itachi stared back. They'd known each other since they were children. They've been training together since they hit genin. Shisui was the only person Itachi had ever told about the moment he activated his Sharingan. About the bodies that lay in the grass, some still moaning in pain. How the horror was seared into his memory, as his eyes turned as red as the blood on the ground.
"No," Shisui said. "I don't."
Itachi closed his eyes. The relief was overwhelming.
I'm not alone.
"What do we do?" he asked. With relief came clarity of mind. He began to review the facts as he knew them.
Shisui sat down, interpreting Itachi's clouded gaze correctly. He let Itachi unravel his thoughts in silence, while he spoke aloud. "So far, I've decided to stick to gathering information. Discontent is brewing, sure, and plans are being made… but even the clan knows what kind of risk they're taking. They won't be taking action anytime soon."
Itachi settled beside him. "We need to find where everything started." The clan and the village had two very different views of the other. Perhaps the solution would lie there.
Shisui's shoulders slumped. He picked at the grass, before tossing the strands into the air with a huff.
"We'll have to talk to the Hokage," he said.
Slowly, Itachi nodded. This was the choice the two of them were making. "The village, over the clan," he said, his voice hoarse.
Shisui clasped his shoulder and shook him. "No!" He waited for Itachi to meet his gaze before continuing. "The village and the clan. Don't give up so soon, idiot." His grin could outshine the sun. "Come on. We're Uchiha Itachi and Shunshin no Shisui! We'll find a way to fix this."
Objectively, Shisui hadn't given Itachi any concrete reason or plan to guide him forward. And yet, he feels steadier already, as if all he needed was Shisui's unwavering faith to keep him going. Itachi closed his eyes but couldn't hide the smile creeping across his face. It only lasted a moment — the situation was still dire, after all — but it was a smile all the same.
"You know, you're the only one who's ever called me an idiot," Itachi said. If anything, that only made Shisui grin wider.
"Tell you what." Shisui rose to his feet, dusting off his pants. "Why don't we spend the morning wandering around a little? See the sights! Reacquaint ourselves with our home!" He spread his arms in demonstration, trading his smile for a mischievous grin. Eavesdrop on the civilians. Gather information, he didn't say. "Maybe get some dango at your favorite place, yeah?"
Itachi sighed but stood as well. He would have preferred to train by himself—experiment with his shurikenjutsu, maybe—but considering Shisui was banned from combat, it would be better to keep him away from temptation.
Speaking of the dango place…
For a moment, Itachi debated the pros and cons of telling Shisui. The little girl's reaction could definitely be a start for their investigation. But he could also already tell how Shisui would take her words.
"What is it?" Shisui asked, tilting his head at Itachi's expression.
Itachi's eyes flickered to the right—his own version of an eyeroll—before resigning himself to his fate.
Sure enough, Shisui's cackling lasted all the way until they made it to the central residential area of the village. "Oh, we are definitely going there now," he said gleefully. "I want to meet the kid that mistook Uchiha Itachi for a girl!"
A/N:
The first time I published this chapter, someone (rightfully) pointed out that nothing much happened in it. At the time, I didn't have the energy or time to do more than apologize and try to do better next chapter. Rereading the chapter, I now agree wholeheartedly. The old version was a mess of stream of consciousness worldbuilding nonsense. Of all the 2020 editing I'm doing, this chapter will be the one affected the most because it.
I'm fuddling up the timeline a little bit, but whatever. Shisui knowing before Itachi is such a minor thing.
Thank you to all the people who reviewed, followed, and faved. I seriously appreciate your support, and therefore am doing my best not to disappoint with focus on quality over quantity work. This fanfic isn't dead, and will only die when I do. Seriously, I already have a whole three chapters written out set when they're fifteen, and very plot important. You'll see clues of it even earlier than that, so keep an eye out ;)
