For a five-year old boy, Shisui thought more like an adult.
He was bowing before Fugaku and Mikoto with his head too low, paying his closest relatives his gratitude for their initiative to look after him. They each returned the young Uchiha a mellow smile, and his aunt spoke to him first, "You and Itachi are of the same age. I'm sure you'll get along well."
Shisui thought that they were kind and thoughtful as parents, even though they weren't his own.
That night, it was his first time to sleep over his father's old home, a simple house where he and Fugaku had grown up as kids. Shisui had moved out from their original house, since his mother's cousins had ownership rights over it. It was only practical for him to move; his new home was just a few blocks away from his closest relatives' manor.
When he first laid his small body on the spacious bed, he aimlessly stared at the dim ceiling, wallowing in the silence.
He recollected how his parents smiled with a warmth that lit up his childish innocence: the way his otou-san would tease him just to get a laugh out of him and the way his okaa-san would squish his fragile body into the tightest embrace.
He was younger then, and he just dreamed to be heroes like them.
They had kindled his passion for the shinobi life. He prided on his parents' exceptional skills and their loyalty to the Will of Fire.
But sometimes, a child's pride was deceiving.
"Your parents died in an S-rank mission… I know it's not easy, son, but we're on the verge of war. You must know that your parents died an honorable death."
He recalled the last time he had read his parents' names carved on the Memorial Stone, a statue for shinobis who had died for Konoha, but shinobis who had also killed enemies for its name. The monument did some justice, Shisui thought. His parents, who had bloodied their hands with sheer skill and had been stripped of life with poor luck, had died an honorable death.
His parents, who had murdered and been murdered, had been heroes in the end.
Did he still want to be like them?
Shisui wasn't sure.
"Will you be okay moving to a new house? Your uncle, Fugaku, will take good care of you. You will be living close by."
He remembered how uneasy he felt around the clan elders. Perhaps, it was something about their eyes? Their eyes were like his, plain and black, but theirs overflowed with pity and concern for a kid who had not much of a choice.
Shisui never liked it.
That night, his dead gaze remained on the blank ceiling; he could only take in the sound of the weightless wind blowing outside the window, the weak scent of sandalwood from the headboard, and the faint taste of metal from the wound on his bitten tongue.
Shisui let his eyelids droop, allowing the cold tears to moisten his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, the black abyss they held glinted in blood red.
If there was another thing that reminded Shisui of his mother and father aside from the names engraved on a sacred monument, it was the way Fugaku and Mikoto treated him.
Every mealtime, he would come to their house to eat with the clan head's family, never a minute late nor a minute early. Mikoto, who was pregnant at that time, occasionally took the boy's visits as an opportunity to cook his favorite dish, acquiring such knowledge from the chats she had had with his late mother. Whenever she served a hot tray of gyudon to the dinner table, her young face always casted a soft and fond smile on him.
More often than not, Mikoto would also extend her kindness and invite him to sleep at their place, demanding her only son, Itachi, to step out of his comfort zone and befriend his cousin. Young Shisui, however, declined the woman's offers in the most polite way he could do so.
On the other hand, Fugaku was a stern man whom he never wanted to disappoint. It could be due to his strict demeanor or his position as the clan head; Shisui did not exactly know which reason hung down his throat the heaviest. The busy man, however, in his very rare spare time, would include the orphaned boy in his basic shuriken and kunai throwing exercises with young Itachi. Unlike Mikoto's invitations to sleepovers, it was an offer that he found himself accepting with no real reason to hesitate to, save for the fact that he would be spending time with two people who shared an immediate familial bond.
And on the rare occasions Fugaku trained the two, Shisui, together with Itachi, was able to reveal to the clan head his raw and impressive potential at the measly age of five. Whenever he hit a mark with flawless accuracy, he would receive a true praise, never understated nor sugarcoated. And when Shisui had inadvertently activated his Sharingan during their training, Fugaku would give him a proud look of approval, mulling over the bright future that laid ahead the prodigious five-year old.
On those days, memories of his own parents would raise to the surface. Mikoto, like his okaa-san, was sensitive and caring, and Fugaku, like his otou-san, spent his free time, although rare, with his family instead of relieving his body from physical exhaustion.
However, despite their efforts to treat him like he was their own son, he never experienced the same warmth his parents used to wrap him with. His okaa-san was more physically expressive with affections and possessive of his attention; his otou-san was less serious and more playful around him, childlike in his secret missions to blatantly get on Shisui's nerves.
There were days wherein he would replay the sweet moments he had spent with them. But even for someone as young as Shisui, he already knew that reminiscing could only do so much.
After all, behind those fond memories lied some things that were better off forgotten.
Sometimes, he would think of the stories his otou-san shared. When Shisui couldn't sleep, his father would narrate his tales as a hero; he would blabber on about the times he had run out of superpowers but still kicked the butts of villains with only foolish guts. Like any good son, Shisui listened intently and promised his parents that he would grow up to be a heroic ninja who would never give up.
But tales were tales, and reality was too bitter for children.
It was when the clan elders told him about his parents' deaths that he realized that his otou-san and okaa-san were merely held by puppet strings in a place where war was rising. They were marionettes that had been controlled to kill enemies and risk their lives for a puppet show of honor and loyalty.
His otou-san, especially, had been a liar. "Running out of superpowers" meant being brutally attacked by an opponent just as "kicking the butts of villains" meant deliberately murdering the enemies. Shisui thought his father could not be totally blamed: the man only wanted to teach him about perseverance and loyalty—loyalty to people who would order him to kill.
And maybe his father just wanted his son to go to sleep.
In peace. In a world where war existed.
Why does it have to exist?
Shisui, young as he was, was not deaf to the chitter and chatter around the Uchiha District. At times, he would saunter on the streets and pass by his distant relatives discussing the skirmishes between Konohagakure and some other village called Iwagakure. War was bound to happen soon, he had heard.
It was ironic, he thought, how villages were willing to wage wars until the more powerful lasted; thousands of shinobis had to gamble their lives on the battlefield in a game that sought to prove which village would have more pieces by the end. A wasteland of blood was necessary to bring peace. Killing was vital to survive. One would have to kill the father of an innocent family and face the incessant guilt, and maybe later, he would have to remind himself that being soft could mean the difference between life and death.
And perhaps, that had been the case for the Iwa-nin who robbed his parents of their lives; the enemy could have spared an innocent boy the grief and loneliness, yet his sympathy would have left him headless.
That left Shisui to abhor war and killing. While other clan children dreamed of walking in their parents' footsteps, he yearned for a world wherein no man had to risk his life for a mission.
He yearned for true peace.
Young Shisui was a quiet boy, but his cousin, Itachi, was quieter.
Whenever they passed by each other, his cousin would throw glances at him, his face donning an unreadable expression. Once, Shisui dared asking what the look on his eyes was for, but Itachi, in turn, simply stared in silence, as if he knew what was going on in his mind.
Since then, they would merely exchange conversations whenever they passed by each other—their words in the form of glances. Shisui did not know why, but the wordless encounters with his cousin somehow put him at ease, and in some way, made him feel understood.
As time went on, Shisui made a friend out of his cousin. At the age of five, Fugaku had enrolled them into the Academy, making them three years ahead of the aspiring ninjas in their age bracket. However, the administrators had put them in different sections in order to balance the skill levels in each class, based on the pre-assessment they had taken. Whenever there were upcoming practical tests on weapon wielding and basic ninjutsu, Shisui would occasionally meet Itachi at the Uchiha District's training grounds, practicing his throws and jutsu execution. They would send each other an acknowledging wave and then get back to their own businesses.
Shisui noted that they shared one thing in common: they did not actually train to learn the techniques taught at school, but to perfect them.
They were Uchihas, after all.
And somehow, along the way, it led to them training side by side and teaching each other a technique or two. Miraculously, Shisui found himself warming up to the stoic-looking Uchiha, his glances crystallizing into words and even training contests.
Shisui could never forget the face his cousin made when he decided to question the reason he was named after a weasel.
With that, his friendship with Itachi budded and it refreshed him to have gained his first ever companion. For some odd reason, the ever so silent and private Shisui found solace in teasing his cousin and pettily hogging his attention.
In a way, he was reminded of the playful way his own parents had treated him.
I'm just like them.
While Itachi was normally quiet around his company, there were just times when the silence around Shisui was simply because he was alone.
Here and there, Fugaku summoned his only son to stay at home with his mother and assist her in anything she found difficult to do. Shisui never offered to accompany him; in a way, he thought it was invasive or simply, awkward.
He saw Itachi less when Mikoto had given birth to her second son, Sasuke. Ever since, his cousin's spare time had been brimming with errands that his mother, who was attending the newborn infant's needs, regularly did. Moreover, Itachi lent his aid to his okaa-san in taking care of baby Sasuke, leaving even scarcer time for training. Shisui did not miss the gleam in his cousin's eyes whenever he held his little brother and he could tell that Itachi was not bothered by the jammed up schedule. After all, he found looking after his ototo as something he personally loved, not something he was merely obliged to do.
While Shisui occasionally assisted Mikoto when Itachi was running an errand for his father, most of the time, he would just train all by himself.
And training was a time for his thoughts to let loose. Sometimes, his mind loved the freedom. Other times, his mind wandered too far.
"We're off to a mission, Shisui—oi, oi, don't make such a sad face," his otou-san hushed.
Shisui hiccuped.
"How about we train you next time to make up for our absence?" his okaa-san suggested.
Shisui tightened his grip on his kunai, promising to train past his limits.
And so he did, even with Itachi rarely at his side.
Shisui was an introvert, but that did not mean he had indecent social skills.
At the Academy, he didn't always visit Itachi's classroom, but whenever he did, he would come during breaks and they would have conversations that were mostly filled with topics related to academics and training. Although they were both introverted, they welcomed each other's company.
Most of the time, Shisui stayed in his class and at his own table. Oddly enough, he was popular with his classmates even though the majority of them were three years older than him. He was generally pegged to be quite a mellow peer, since he always shot them a mirthful smile. His unexpectedly gentle character built a comforting aura around him; here and there, his classmates approached him for small talks.
But no one ever really got close.
It did not come to him as a shock. He was an Uchiha and an orphan at that.
Someday, I'll get used to it.
And he did.
"I'm Aoi Shouta, five years old. It's nice to meet you all!"
The young boy stood in front of the class with his hands raised behind his head and he flashed a toothy grin at the aspiring genins who were eyeing him in curiosity and amusement. True to his family name, he sported blue hair and even bluer eyes, and the association somehow piqued the curiosity of his older classmates.
But for Shisui, he leaned more towards the fact that they shared the same age. Did his advanced studying mean he amassed noteworthy potential?
Apparently, it did.
Shouta rose to popularity within a short span of weeks; he was a genius who equaled Shisui in rank and grades. Whenever the class had a practical examination on basic jutsu execution, the transferee exhibited a skill that was beyond their sensei's expectations—one that was on par with Shisui's.
The new predicament challenged the young Uchiha to overtake his classmate and train himself harder.
For what purpose exactly?
He just had to.
"You've mastered the Great Fireball Technique?"
Shisui stoically blinked as his cousin studied his face. Itachi then resigned from doing so as he lifted a shuriken from the ground.
"Otou-san had some free time. He asked for you to join, but you weren't in the district."
"I see."
When Itachi finished assembling his weapons and excused himself to babysit his ototo, Shisui slumped down to the patch of grass, his thoughts digging into the last time he had been trained by Fugaku.
In the past few months, their occasional exercises had been reduced to a rarity. He had heard from his distant relatives that their clan had a distinct role in the war that was bound to happen. It was not easy for Shisui to seek his uncle out for training, given his position as the clan head. It was just as difficult for him to approach Itachi either, since his plate was littered with family errands such as babysitting. How could he? Even his cousin had little time for training; Itachi was left to rely on the rare times his otou-san was free enough.
That left him in the company of his thoughts for weeks.
"There are times when you'll be alone. Sometimes, it will hurt. Other times, it won't. But remember, every time you are, you have to learn how to survive."
When he was younger, his parents had taught him to be independent.
Somehow, their deaths had made them better teachers.
"Why aren't you training in the Uchiha training grounds? And what's that scroll for? Is that a katon jutsu?"
The Uchiha, who was lying on the grass, all worn out and drained, did not move an inch. After all, there was no need to look up to know who had approached him.
There was a need, though, to know why the person had. To the prodigy, he was a mere stranger.
"Shisui-chan, why are you ignoring me?"
Shisui-chan?
Shouta threw his exhausted classmate a wide grin when the coal-haired boy decided to sit up and eye him with a blank look.
When the second question was still answered with a silent response, the frisky boy beamed at him. "Are you training, Shisui-chan?"
"Ah."
"I saw your flames earlier. That's so cool! I mean, hot!"
"..."
Much to the Uchiha's surprise, Shouta passed a rice ball and a bottle of water to his open hands when he rose from the ground.
"Those are extras. I thought you might want them!" his classmate nervously said while rubbing the back of his head.
Shisui looked down at the contents of his hands. He was about to decline the boy's offer when a low grumble came from his belly, earning him an earful of the blue-haired boy's laughter.
"T-Thanks…"
"No problem!" the energetic boy exclaimed. "Anou sa, anou sa, can I join your training?"
Warming up to a stranger was not as easy as accepting a rice ball and a bottle of water.
At first, Shisui was reluctant to the notion of having a loudmouth of a classmate (and an Academy rival at that) join him in his regimen, but he found it impossible to turn down an offer right after benefitting from a display of kindness; hence, he agreed.
Yet, Shouta seemed to think that Shisui's curt response was the same as signing an eternal contract, for the former had made an appearance on the next day.
And the day after that.
And the day after that day.
Eventually, Shisui decided that he despised stubborn people (even though he was one himself).
Day by day, Shouta wormed his way into his training sessions, hollering every bit of his enthusiasm whenever he witnessed Shisui practicing. Initially, he only watched the Uchiha from the side and preened whenever an opportunity presented itself. And even though his fits of passion were returned with Shisui's glares, he trampled on every warning that was sent in his direction and decided that he would also train by his classmate's side.
Initially, Shisui deliberated on relocating to the Uchiha District's own training grounds, but he decided against the thought afterwards, disliking the idea of having to adjust to some obnoxious classmate's lack of tact. Hence, he stalled in every leak from his patience to put up with every idiotic remark.
Although, deep down, he was not entirely opposed to the way Shouta persistently crawled into his life. The Uchiha found fragments of himself in the loudmouth: they were both orphans and they dreamed of being great shinobis.
Slowly, as time went on, Shisui gained a friend from his classmate, and he found a speck of solace in that fact.
Not that he would ever admit it.
.
.
.
"Shisui-chan, what are you doing?"
"Stop calling me that," Shisui growled as he glowered at his classmate and continued reading a scroll he had borrowed from their sensei. It was his first time to venture into a field that was conventionally not used for both offense and defense. Hence, he had been studying for almost an hour now and had barely begun the execution stage.
Shouta finished sharpening his kunai and skipped to the Uchiha's side. "Shisui, what are you doing?"
"Trying to learn a jutsu."
"Eh? What kind?"
The onyx-eyed boy paused to blink. He supposed there was no harm in telling him. "Sealing," he answered.
Delight gleamed in ocean blue eyes. "Sealing is one of my clan's specialties!" the Aoi hollered.
The ray of exaggeration, however, was greeted with a grunt, as Shisui resumed his studying. At this, Shouta crossed his arms and pouted, turning his back on the uncaring boy. After a few minutes of sulking, his interest in his new friend's activity drew him to peer over his shoulder to see his classmate struggling with hand motions in an attempt to seal a kunai.
"You're doing it wrong, Shisui-chan. Don't concentrate your chakra on your hands. You'll get callouses," Shouta suggested, his kind eyes voicing out his concern. "You should immediately let go of the chakra and force it onto the object."
When the criticism broke into the air, Shisui stilled in his place. After a few moments, he relaxed his shoulders and resumed executing the jutsu, paying the boy beside him no attention.
"Oi, Shisui-chan. You're still not doing it right. Let me help you."
"I don't need your help."
A helpless sigh blew out of Shouta's lips as he shook his head disapprovingly at his companion's stubbornness.
"Kuso," the Uchiha mildly winced at the sharp pain on his hands, immediately putting a stop to his attempt.
Initially, Shouta stared at him in horror, registering the fact that he had just blurted out one of the bad words. His eyes then traversed to the tiny scratches on his pale hands.
"Eh?! Your hands are red! What happened?!" he yelped in shock, sapphire blue eyes enlarging at the subtle look of pain on Shisui's face.
"Nothing."
The shock in Shouta's tone transferred to Shisui's facial expression, as the former banged a clenched fist onto the top of the latter's head.
"Ba–ka. Just let me help you, Shisui-chan. I'm your friend, ya know?" the energetic boy scolded the timid Shisui, concern running through his all-knowing face.
"Hn." Shisui scrunched up his eyebrows in resignation, glowering at his friend who was throwing a loud song of laughter.
The situation was not anything new. With Itachi rarely making time for training and with no one to guide Shisui in his quest for strength and power, he had to rely on himself, grappling with any scroll available from his clan's and school's libraries and launching at any opportunity to train. However, there was only so much that a six-year old child's physique could offer, even with towering determination. He had no one to teach him to make up for such a disadvantage.
Until Shouta waltzed into his life.
The energetic boy was a genius of his own league. Ever since he had joined the Uchiha in his training regimens, the onyx-eyed boy was granted glimpses into his new friend's capabilities. Sometimes, when Shisui struggled with executing certain techniques, Shouta offered him insights and even manual assistance. In turn, the Uchiha would always decline his aid first, disliking the idea of having to rely on someone of his age. Yet, somehow, he found himself trapped in unfavorable circumstances, which moved his friend to force himself on him.
Shisui appreciated his intentions—he really did, but in the farthest corner of his mind, it bothered him to realize that mastering some techniques costed him reliance on someone else.
Someone who seemed like he could do anything without much effort.
Someone who had no apparent need for anyone to guide him.
Someone who was truly a natural.
Shisui averted his gaze from the bright face of the boy laughing before him, lowering his eyes to the kunai on the grass, the shiny piece of metal that he had failed to seal.
I really didn't need the help.
The seventh year of the average person's life was the peak of childish innocence. Children embarked on explorations around the neighborhood, widening their little social bubbles. At this age, the dolls and action figures they used to play with were now in the larger form of playmates their size.
However, Shisui was not the average child. Instead of loitering around the Academy's muddied playground, he was standing at the multipurpose hall, witnessing the closing of the graduation ceremony from the institution with thirteen-year old strangers, none of which had been his classmate. His academic performance in the first semester of the first year had granted him a slot in an accelerated program that shrunk the original five-year course to a jampacked span of three academic years.
"Congratulations, Shisui. You'll make a great ninja," Mikoto expressed, tenderness running across her feminine facial features. Fugaku followed with a formal nod of approval.
"Thank you, Mikoto-san, Fugaku-san," Shisui lowered his head humbly, addressing each adult with a polite turn. Afterwards, the married couple began their discussion about the plan for a celebratory dinner, all the while making sure little Sasuke made no hasty attempt to abandon the hall where he had been locked in for a good four hours.
"Congratulations, Shisui. You did well," remarked Itachi.
"Itachi, you're so stiff," Shisui uttered while narrowing his eyes at him. "You did, too."
His timid cousin peered at him with a rather empty aspect that did not complement the general atmosphere of the ceremony that had just taken place. A few blinks came before he spoke, "I'm sorry that you had to train alone most of the time."
The sincere apology took Shisui aback, but he made an effort to blanket his countenance with a neutral facade. Worrying a friend was the last thing he wanted at the given moment.
"What are you talking about? You had a lot of responsibilities as a brother," he chortled and blessed the serious Uchiha with a slap to the back. "Besides, I trained with Shouta, remember?"
When the unveiled concern on Itachi's face did not waver, Shisui added, "Mikoto-san can take care of Sasuke now. You'll have more time then for training. Let's spar next time."
In return, Itachi's hard eyes softened. He wordlessly nodded when, all of a sudden, his little Sasuke trotted towards him with a possessive need for his awesome brother's attention.
The image of a complete family laying before Shisui clenched something inside him.
"Shisui-chan!"
A whirl of ocean blue crossed his sight. When Shouta stomped his last step after his animated run towards the Uchiha, he beamed, "Congratulations to us, Shisui-chan!"
Shisui glared daggers at his loud friend; the childish honorific was grating his nerves. "Shouta, you need to stop calling me that."
"Eh? But we're friends, aren't we?"
"You're hopeless."
A grin painted the Aoi's lips. "You're with your family?"
"Aa."
There was no need for Shisui to throw his friend's question right back at him. He was not the type to question the obvious, even if doing so was for the sake of politeness. Shouta was an orphan; not a relative came to celebrate his milestone with him. Shisui wondered if it was because he was detached from the family that was taking care of him.
If Itachi had not graduated with him, would Mikoto and Fugaku have accompanied him?
"I'm all alone, but I earned this achievement, ya know? Heck, my parents shoulda seen me train myself!" Shouta hooted.
Shisui was just like his companion. Yet, it felt impossible to extend any ounce of sympathy that any other child who was in a similar place would willingly give up. Shouta was a loyal friend, but Shisui was being inconvenienced by the invasion of unhealthy thoughts he never asked for yet found himself caving in to.
He was an orphan like the boy whose face was adorned with a smile. Yet, unlike him, the mirthful person found no reason to rely on a single soul for his strength and power.
Clutching onto his unscathed forehead protector, Shisui thought that there was still so much to learn.
It unnerved Shisui how he, a defender of human life, saw himself in a murderer.
"You're an Uchiha?" Touma Ryu, a fifteen-year old medic placed on his newly formed three-man team, inquired.
Shisui nodded at the elder male.
Ryu flexed his arms with a long stretch and switched his gaze to his feet. "You heard the news, right?"
Shouta, who had had his hands full with the task of shaping his rice balls, invaded the space between his two teammates. "What the hell are we talking about?"
Shisui glowered at his brazen interruption. Ryu had been steering the conversation towards a direction that involved his clan, something quite grand to have circulated so easily, yet quite serious to have been a taboo subject that he had not picked up from chatters within the Uchiha District.
"An Uchiha defected the village yesterday. From what I've heard, he did so after his teammate died."
At that charged moment, Shouta actually had the decency to be silent.
Days ago, Shisui had fished out from his relatives' conversations the news that a young chuunin in their clan had stolen the life of a friend for some kind of power. Although, he was not so certain if it was the truth or a mere rumor; entirely trusting a piece of information, especially one snatched from the streets, was an act of ignorance.
However, it was inexplicably shocking how he accepted what his older teammate had just granted, regardless of his source. Somehow, he found it in him to deem the decision of becoming a rogue ninja after heinously committing murder predictable.
"Who defected?" Shisui asked.
The name that Ryu had so conveniently thrown to the wind carved a withering look on the Uchiha prodigy's face. He knew him, he was an orphan. Orphaning by death of parents was a rarity within the clan. Each clansman was skilled enough to hold his own ground. Deaths within the group were caused by either natural conditions or bad luck, but never weakness. Uchihas with unfavorable genes were a minority, just a few outliers.
Yet, amidst the man's floor of heinous deeds, Shisui found some room for understanding. Just like him, Shisui grew up in the care of people who were not his parents. Just like him, Shisui craved more power—great power.
But Shisui was not a madman: he could never find it in himself to shed some blood no matter the circumstances, even if it was a mission. A life was a life. Even the damned deserved to be restored.
He was not Obito.
Life was a race, but speed was not everything.
Shisui knew that, but he still thought differently.
At the age of ten, the speedy teleportation techniques passed onto him by his parents had been added to his arsenal of skills and gilded as his ultimate ace. With his eye for jutsus, he had molded the techniques to his advantage, elevating their level of difficulty and maximizing their potential. With skillful tweaks here and there, consequently, he had branded the techniques as his signature talent. Successful mission after another led people to hail him as Shisui of the Body Flicker.
Other than that, the young boy had even expertly turned his eyes into a fearsome weapon. As one of the youngest members who had awakened and mastered the Sharingan, soon enough, he was glorified by the praises of his relatives and other shinobi of higher caliber.
It did not take a long time for clan elders and village jounins to be convinced that he was ready for promotion to chuunin.
Shisui did not share their appreciation for himself, though.
"Ryu!"
Shouta's holler reverberated throughout the Forest of Death, but it did not reach the helpless teammate who was a few feet in front of him.
"Shouta, they are getting away with our scrolls! Get the scrolls!" Shisui shrieked as he engaged one of the enemy team's shinobi in a battle of taijutsu. He did not need to turn to the other side to know that his opponent's teammates were attempting to flee. It was the strategy of their foes: leave behind their strongest member who had the highest chance of winning a fight against two prodigies, albeit ten-year olds, lest they chase after them to retrieve the scrolls. Shisui knew that one of them had to defeat the sacrificial ninja and the other had to get the scrolls, but...
"Ryu is dying! He can't heal himself!" Shouta cried.
"Get the scrolls, Shouta! Leave Ryu to me!" Shisui countered.
For a dead moment, Shouta could only gasp at the overwhelming horror, staring at his friend who was defending their team with his own strength. He could not let his dear companion shoulder everything.
And so with all the power and courage his own intuition summoned, he jammed his fingers into his weapons pouch and hastily released a barrage of senbon at the fleeing opponents. His talent for accurate throwing saved him some inefficient fighting as the razor-sharp tips penetrated the jugular vein of each fiend, an attack that would knock them out of their consciousness but not their life. A blur of motion greeted his vision as he scrambled towards their medic and began channeling healing chakra into his system. His healing skills might have been rudimentary at best, but his will to save a friend from the doors of death was compelling.
At that moment, Shisui had knocked out his opponent with a swift roundhouse kick to the face and swiveled to the direction of his teammates. Miraculously, Ryu's breathing had become stabilized by Shouta's basic medical ninjutsu.
Shisui was witnessing a turnout of events that was far different from what he had played in his mind. He was seeing a skill for improvisation that was much more efficient than the strategy he had devised.
They got the scrolls and Ryu was safe. That was the important thing, but he could not cross it out of his mind the fact that he was supposed to be the one saving their teammate.
Life was a race, but speed was not everything.
Shouta got to him first.
"How old is Sasuke again?" asked Shisui.
"Seven," answered the ever so timid boy.
"When is Fugaku-san going to enroll him into the Academy?"
"Otou-san says they'll wait until he's eight."
"Is it because he wants to keep him away from the war?"
"Yes."
The inquisitive and open nature of Shisui might be uncharacteristic in the eyes of many, but to Itachi, who had known him for several years, it was the norm. Like him, his cousin preferred the soundless conversations brought forth by matching intuitions, enough to grasp what was implied, to the taxing exchange of words or even worse, small talk. Yet, to people who were included in his social bubble, Shisui was some sort of a loudmouth, one who enjoyed casual teasing and toying. Itachi surmised that the development of his personality exceeded what social influence had nurtured; it was nature carried on from his parents' blood, and even more—it was a keepsake from them that he held and treasured.
Mental strength was commendable at wartime, Itachi thought.
"I can't believe seven years' worth of peace treaties and summits didn't work," Shisui broached, surprising Itachi inwardly. His cousin never raised the subject of the ongoing war unless necessary; Itachi knew it struck a sensitive chord. Hence, he remained silent in agreement.
"Konoha was so close to achieving its own peace," Shisui resumed. "That skirmish with Iwagakure had been handled by the Sandaime, but…" he trailed off with a contorted face, which Itachi found rather odd. Levelheaded and no-nonsense, his cousin normally faced realities head on.
They were best friends, but Shisui did not give away his emotions so easily to anyone. They were close and Itachi could see the root of Shisui's sentiments, but there was only so much that his plain observation could bring him. Asking was a risk he was not even certain he was willing to take.
Did the ongoing war scare him? Itachi disbelieved the idea. A year ago, they had climbed the ranks to jounin level and had even been recruited by ANBU shortly after. While they had not been assigned to assassination missions yet, their encounters with the realities outside the village should have been enough to desensitize their feelings towards the war. Time did not stop for them, especially for their emotions.
"Suna had trouble with all the other nations and needed our help," Itachi picked up where his friend had left off.
When no more sound loitered around the atmosphere, Itachi passed the judgment that there would be no more out-of-character exhibitions from his company. However, even though Itachi was right about his conclusions most of the time, such was still a most of the time case. He was adept at reading expressions, but Shisui was an expert at masking his own.
Hence, Shisui bombed him again with another surprise.
"Itachi."
"Yes?"
"Have you ever felt insecure?"
The question hardened something within Itachi's throat, but if there was one thing ANBU had taught him, it was to never let bits of his uneasiness slip away from his countenance. Insecurity was too general a concept; his mouth had to do the asking now.
"What do you mean?"
Shisui froze to preserve his composure. "Do you sometimes feel weak?"
Itachi blinked in response, automatically drawn to catch a solid reason behind his friend's admission of weakness, an indication of a crack in his self-esteem.
With the sea of praises being thrown at Shisui from the clan and village figures, Itachi found it rather unexpected, but not unthinkable. Shinobis like them who were placed in tight circles of positions were vulnerable to pressure. For Itachi, it was the burden of being a destined clan heir. For Shisui, it could be ANBU work, but he found that rather unrealistic to process.
"I do feel helpless, sometimes," Itachi said.
Shisui lowered his eyelids as if in resignation, and Itachi knew that his response was there, but not quite in his shoes. The look of steel in his eyes was enough to show that there was someone on his mind.
And the look was enough for Itachi to understand what was laying before him.
"Why did you join ANBU, Shisui?"
Silence reigned for a quick moment.
Shisui then replied, "To become powerful."
His cousin's yearning for peace and becoming a strong shinobi to help achieve that was not news to Itachi. Years of friendship did not only help him pick that fact; sharing a common dream with a companion projected a reflection of himself in such a person.
Yet, Itachi could tell that the quest for power was not solely for that hopeful purpose.
He was gaining strength for peace—peace for whatever troubled him within.
A particular name found its way in Itachi's mind, and for a split-second, a mixed surge of emotions contorted his usually stoic face.
For a high-ranking thirteen-year old shinobi with an impressive mission record, Shisui thought more like a child.
He had known that, from the moment he had been granted his forehead protector, he was bound to bloody his hands and the dream he had always framed in his chest. He had known; he had feared it. With his duties under ANBU, he would soon be assigned an assassination mission.
Yet, Kami had a way of throwing him off-course. Even off-ANBU missions required him to shed some blood on his conscience. Such was the reality of the war.
All along, he had been dreading this day, but he had been foolishly deceiving himself with the stronghold of optimism.
I can still save myself.
"These are Kumo-nin, right? This Yamada could be with them," Ryu said.
"Yamada is with them. I can sense his chakra," Shouta responded as he bobbed his head upward in an attempt to get a decent view of the foreign shinobi through the bush.
"How do you even know his chakra?"
"I fought his troops in my last solo mission. I won that fight, ya know."
"Be quiet, you two. They might hear us," Shisui interjected before Ryu could lengthen the conversation.
"Why are we still hiding out? We could just ambush them now and grab him," Shouta suggested, casting an impatient look at the team leader.
"Are you crazy? There are over ten shinobi there and we need to be careful with assassinating this Yamada. He's Kumo's best strategist," the team medic raised in whispers, earning a smug face from his blue-haired teammate.
"Eh? But he doesn't know how to fight. Strategy can't always protect a person, ya know."
"And the ten shinobi protecting him?"
"Psh."
The chat was put to an end as the duo faced the wrath of their Uchiha teammate, who was glaring daggers at them to remind them of their foolishness. In an instant, Ryu and Shouta straightened their backs in submission to the captain's demand.
"Shouta, did you fight their general on your mission?" inquired Shisui, writing looks of surprise and confusion over his two comrades' faces.
The boy in question scratched through his sapphire hair, uncertain about the direction of the conversation. "Well, yeah, but he's not with them now."
"Transform into him and distract the troops. I'll go get Yamada. Ryu, don't leave this spot unless one of us gets hurt."
Shouta and Ryu nodded.
.
.
.
"Shisui, why are we still keeping him prisoner? He's dangerous."
Shisui swiveled to face his twenty-one year old teammate who wrinkled his face in worry. Although his body was facing his, his eyes were fastened to the ground between them.
"We'll turn him in for intel," Shisui replied blankly.
"But the order was to-"
"I'll explain to Hokage-sama," he said with an air of finality before turning his back on Ryu and trudging to the riverside, seeking out comfort from the waters' songs.
The Sandaime Hokage had appointed him as team captain for this crucial mission because he had exhibited discipline and rationality in decision-making, an attitude that many shinobi fighting in the Third Great Ninja War failed to display. Shisui's decisiveness would benefit the team in accomplishing a key goal that would destabilize the offensive play of Kumogakure.
Yet, for someone who always thought before acting, it was the first time he had let his feelings will him into neglecting the purpose of the mission.
A life was a life; what if this Yamada was the same as his parents? What if attaining the objective of the mission meant making orphans out of his children?
"I would do the same thing, ya know."
A soft thud beside him filled his ears as a shadow loomed over his bent figure. Shisui trained his eyes on the slow current, the crystal water adorned with glistens against the sunlight.
Shouta, who was used to his friend's silence, added, "Violence is never the answer. It's ironic, though, that that's how we shinobi pretty much express ourselves."
Still, no word came from Shisui.
Shouta squinted at the river sparkles. "I sometimes ask myself, why did I become a ninja? What is my purpose?" he said. "In Konoha, it has been pretty much ingrained into our brains that we should fight to protect others."
"I can't think of any other reason that's not selfish."
"Me too," his friend said after gulping down a breath. "I know you think that the world isn't as black and white as our teachers make it out to be. Sometimes, saving others means killing the enemy. Sometimes, protecting yourself means someone else's death."
Shisui threw a stone almost horizontally at the river. "You aren't giving me new insights," he stated.
As the stone continued dashing through its wet tour, Shouta only chortled. "You already know that, when fighting, your decisions should reflect on your purpose, right?" His chuckle shaped into a little grin as he continued, "You already know that you should always give it your all, if it means fulfilling your purpose."
"Get straight to the point."
His blue-haired teammate's grin almost cracked into a wider one. "But you know that, sometimes, things don't go your way and you may be forced to do something that conflicts with your ideals."
In turn, Shisui muted himself, listening.
"In times like these, you must always remember that you have done everything you could have possibly done."
Shisui felt like he was suddenly transparent.
"And that's okay. You're human. You're imperfect."
And he did not like it.
"It can't be a trial and error process when other people's lives are at stake, Shouta," he argued as he straightened his back and looked at him.
"But you can't shoulder responsibility when it's not your fault, Shisui. You can't be too hard on yourself," Shouta reasoned back, his desperation to get his point across silent yet heard.
Shisui lowered his head slightly, but still training his hard eyes on him. "I'm not like you."
Shisui only saw confusion in his friend's eyes. Genuine. Innocent. Justifiable.
And he did not like it.
"It's easy for you to give me that kind of advice. You have things easy. You can choose not to resort to killing, because you're strong enough to avoid that situation."
Shouta tilted his head slightly to the side, but his confused eyes still lost on the boy before him. He deciphered the sudden outburst—out-of-character, but somehow felt like something that had been mounted on a buildup of emotions. Something that felt like it had been there all this time.
He took a step back without thinking, saying, "That's not true. I have my own share of troubles. And you're strong yourself."
Shisui huffed a rather odd laugh, wallowing in the comedic escalation of events; the words he had just heard sounded like jokes adorned with a satirical sheen.
Fabricated. Shallow. Pitiful.
Shisui inhaled sharply and felt all of his blood turn into hot steam. His head throbbed an agonizing throb and his heart threw itself out of its cage. Suddenly, he could not see any dreg of his own humanity in the person standing before him. Suddenly, in the place of a friend stood a stranger and nothing more.
"Don't play innocent. It's sickening," he worded out years' worth of sentiments—bitter in his tongue.
Bitter in his heart.
War against an enemy was one thing. War against a friend was another.
"Shouta, don't mind me! Just go and get Yamada to Headquarters!" Ryu shrieked in the arms of several Kumo-nin.
Sacrifices had to be made.
"You fucking idiot, Shouta. I told you not to mind me. I told you! I fucking told you!"
No one had the luxury of time to grieve.
"Shouta, don't move! I'm concentrating! You-you're not dying here…"
The nightmares scarred one's sight.
"Shisui… your eyes… different," Shouta weakly whispered, his lips running with bloodied spits.
Yet, the horrors left snippets to treasure.
"Thank you, Shisui… for everything… and I'm sorry."
Screams and cries were loud, but a human's silence was deafening.
"He's gone," Ryu said.
War against a friend was one thing. War against oneself was another.
Only bitterness slept in the heart.
"But you know that, sometimes, things don't go your way and you may be forced to do something that conflicts with your ideals."
Only regret kept the mind awake.
"You're human. You're imperfect."
And he did not like it.
"Sometimes, protecting yourself means someone else's death."
Deliberately, Shisui had let his friend die.
Why have my eyes changed?
While the graveyard was home to the deceased, it also sheltered the abandoned living, the lonely beings wallowing in pitiful miseries. And that was why two people visiting in the same morning was already considered a crowd.
Shisui had known Hatake Kakashi long before their first interaction in ANBU. After all these years, a step beyond the graveyard entrance came with a habitual check of the surroundings to see if his senpai was there as well. Before ANBU, their hellos had been silent, nothing more than a nod and nothing less than a glance.
The glances had made Shisui pick up some interesting observations.
The only physical attribute he had in common with the silver-haired genius was the black eyes, but he thought that looking at him was the same as looking at a mirror. The same dark eyes looked like they were scratched with grey streaks of forced apathy and muffled despondence. In there was a bottomless abyss that had shards of regret buried in deep. In there was only torment over parental abandonment and failure to save a friend from the hands of death.
And, of course, a cup of self-hatred.
The change in his eyes wore a hue more piercing than scarlet.
The ebony swirl replaced by dark wine had been set ablaze.
Its light danced—full of life, yet crafted by death.
He was sure he was going to hell.
Reality had only little room for ideals. Brutal reality, on the other hand, had none.
After the war, the villages had even tighter missions to avoid horrifying aftershocks, the most common of which were vengeful attacks against shinobi groups by soldiers who had lost their loved ones from the war.
That being said, the elite of the elite ninjas were required to join the ANBU program, forced to renew their identities and handle harsher missions. The clan elders held no hesitation towards the proposal that Shisui, who was an elite among the jounins, continued his journey under ANBU.
Even at the age of fifteen, the elders never gave him much of a choice.
Ever since the war had ended and peace treaties had been finally signed, he found himself pressed hard into the remnants of his childhood innocence—there was still the longing for true peace, the aversion to killing. Yet, they had been molded into paranoia, the heaviest burden left by the death of his dear friend.
The murder of his dear friend.
Shisui could not rest in peace.
"I'll never kill again. I'll never kill again. I'll never kill again."
But when words were repeated all over again, the meaning would be lost.
"You are assigned an S-class assassination mission. These men are too dangerous to be just kept imprisoned."
Life never gave him much of a choice.
.
.
.
Shouta, how are you?
.
.
.
He felt some weight digging into his shoulder, numbing it with some chakra. His vision sharpened from the haze it had been, and the first thing fed to his sight was an Inu mask and a bob of silver hair.
"Shisui-san, that's enough. They're already dead. You didn't have to go that far," Kakashi said emphatically.
"Kakashi-senpai…? What just happened?"
The older ANBU ninja held his gaze on the reddened dirt at his feet. There was no need for Shisui to remove the white mask from his face to witness his expression: his brief silence spoke volumes of guilt.
"When they started going after our medic, your Sharingan suddenly changed and… you killed them," the ninja before him said as he released his tight grip on his shoulder.
Shisui did not say a word. He could tell that there was more to the last sentence. There was more to be said, but there was no need for questions when he could effortlessly pay a glance to the scene in front of him. To his chakra-enhanced nose, there was animal-like stench, the decay of what had been breathing just moments ago. There were limbs tossed around, severed when they were only meant to be just immobile.
Death could not be the only smell around. Around his feet lied the fouler scent of inhumanity. An alien thirst for monstrous power. A murderous expression of hatred—the power of the Mangekyou.
His dream of peace and aversion to killing—his inner child—lost on him. All lost in the blink of an eye.
"Nii-san, are you free for shuriken practice?" an eleven-year old Sasuke inquired with a calm demeanor, concealing any hint of eagerness he was holding.
Itachi slipped his bare feet into his sandals and peered over his shoulder to take a look at his brother, whose thin fingers were used to armor his bare forehead. Was he preparing himself for an apparent rejection? Or was he holding his foot down this time?
Itachi broke out a helpless laugh at his little brother's act.
Sasuke, however, did not take this well.
A glare here, an eyeroll there—the pre-teen youth expressed his disappointment quite subtly, compared to his childish tantrums in the past, of course.
"You're training with Shisui-san again?"
Before Itachi could let his usual words roll off his tongue, a cloud of white filled the air between him and his brother, revealing the person in question.
"Yo!" Shisui said with a sheepish grin on hiis face, expressing his embarrassment for having interrupted a conversation between brothers.
Itachi returned his attention to his ototo, who was blatantly narrowing his eyes at his elder cousin, the figure he had made his rival over his brotherly complex.
"Oi, Sasuke. What's with the face?" Shisui teased.
"You're always hogging up Nii-san's time."
Shisui bobbed his head to the right to eye him down in a different angle. "Oh? Itachi's not making time for you anymore?"
The pre-teen Uchiha averted his gaze childishly, not bothering to acknowledge that fact.
The shuriken laid at Sasuke's feet snatched Shisui's interest. He kneeled down before him and gave him one of his playful smirks. "How about I train you after my training with Itachi? Your aniki will have to work with your father later." Shisui fished out a shuriken from his weapons pouch and, with a drop of chakra, multiplied the piece by five, putting Sasuke in a trance of bedazzlement. Moments later, the younger Uchiha became conscious of his childlike fit of passion and immediately made a poor attempt to conceal his emotion.
"If you say so," Sasuke spat out, avoiding his cousin's eyes and fighting to hide his blush. He then collects his shuriken from the ground and wordlessly leaves the two to their own business.
"Oi, you should try to make time for Sasuke. He'll end up lonely," Shisui bugged with an exasperated look.
Itachi examined the person before him silently before standing up with feet all covered. He took a few steps over the distance between them and rested a hand on his best friend's shoulder.
"Shisui, I'm always here."
Circumstances had pulled them apart. Shisui had long become independent of their family's assistance. Team assignments and war missions had made them turn their heads to different directions. Personal sorrows had driven their friendship to the edge.
But they would always, always be close. In Itachi's quietness. In Shisui's forced enthusiasm.
"I know."
In the little things, they would take big leaps for the other.
"Name?"
"He's Uchiha Shisui. Age, 19. Based on the databook, he has experienced normal blackouts from overuse of his doujutsu. Thus, there's ocular bleeding and a short-term state of unconsciousness."
"Oh? Your memory impresses me for a beginner, Sakura-san. Now, why don't you go to Shizune-san for the next training session?"
"Hai, senpai."
Shisui raised his hands to his face and felt bandages wrapped around his eyes. Even with his eyes covered, he could feel the weightless yet searing pain of white lights against his face. His hands roamed around the spaces at both of his sides, making out the fabric of creased bed sheets.
"Oh, you're awake," he heard a feminine voice say.
He attempted to sit up from the bed but found himself too tired to do so. A warm hand pressed over his clothed chest, gently pushing him down to rest.
"You're in no condition to move yet, Uchiha-san," the woman beside him ordered.
"What happened?"
The air was filled with seconds of silence, probably the medical staff's moment of careful preparation for an answer. "You blacked out again, because of overuse of your Sharingan. This is the fourth time this year."
A pang of guilt overrode his chest as he contemplated on the implication of his case. The overuse of his Mangekyou Sharingan, which no one apparently had known about yet, meant that he had subconsciously succumbed to its evil power again and ended up with more blood at his hands.
I'm so fucking helpless.
"Don't worry too much, though. Other Uchihas and Hyuugas experience this. It's just the normal blackout, the temporary blindness. Nothing noteworthy. Just take your medicine and you'll be alright."
Shisui could only stare at the dark even with his eyes open.
You'll be alright.
Each blackout came and went for the normal doujutsu-using shinobi. It dropped itself into their lives like a bomb after a foreseen invasion attack, much in the form of an irresponsible overuse of the ocular prowess.
For Shisui, on the other hand, it was a missile that came unprecedented time and again, so frequent that its repetition made each unforeseen surprise just fail to catch him off guard anymore. After being told that its symptoms were not serious and that its regularity was also common for the fifth time, he stopped going to the hospital and just waited for each incident to pass.
However, as time passed, the blackouts became more regular, the bleeding became worse, and the symptoms became more unpredictable. The blackouts visited him even when he had not used his Sharingan. The internal ocular hemorrhage worsened every time he activated his Mangekyou Sharingan. The symptoms were too complicated that every time he went to the hospital for a mandatory checkup, no sign of an illness could be detected.
He did not know why, but it suited him. After all, his eyes were his own nightmare, the most hideous scar he had gotten from his dear friend's passing. He was doomed and bound for hell the moment he had gotten his Mangekyou.
The Mangekyou enslaved him to the snares of evil—the curse of his own blood.
Yet, no matter how much ire he could afford to throw at his mad nature, he could never escape from its seduction. Killing here, killing there; his parents would be proud.
Just proud.
"Taichou! Watch out!"
Shisui extricated himself from his thoughts, now shifting his attention to the mission laid atop his shoulders. He heeded his subordinate's warning and evaded the falling debris that came from the canopy. He gracefully leaped onto the next tree trunk in recovery.
Presently, they were on a high-speed chase after a masked Akatsuki, who, according to Konoha's intelligence team, was the mastermind behind the pursuit of the Jinchuurikis, even greater than the fallen Pain.
Shisui's three-man squad, comprising one ANBU shinobi and two elite ninjas from the intelligence team, was assigned to collect information about the mastermind's true objectives. They had been informed by the Hokage that it would be a joint mission with Team 7, which would cover a different area. While the team of chuunins was also tasked to gather information about Akatsuki, only Shisui's squad and Hatake Kakashi knew, however, that Team 7's true purpose was to lure the rogue ninjas with Naruto's presence.
Unfortunately, even with the strength of two powerful teams, it was not as easy as it sounded.
Shisui's squad was supposed to join Team 7 after their individual scouting of the assigned areas of the whole vicinity, but their practiced stealth could not match the inhumane sensory skills that belonged to one of the Akatsuki, whose expertise was believed to be made easier by wide teleportation coverage, although his identity remained unknown.
Hence, two Akatsuki ninjas had appeared to block their paths, namely, Kakuzu from Takigakure and Hidan from Yugakure. The battles were long and draining, but still won even after hours on end.
Now, even though worn out from the dangerous matches, Shisui and his squad were headed to Team 7's area with high levels of urgency. After all, the encounter made it certain that Akatsuki shinobi would be there to take the chance to abduct the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki.
"We're almost there," said Shisui's subordinate.
The Uchiha glanced at his team, observing their exhausted state from the recent match against two powerful rogue ninjas. They were in no condition to fight, and so was he, but there was not much of a choice for him as the squad captain.
"Katsu!"
The scream was followed by a series of explosions. The squad halted in their tracks for extra caution and saw Kakashi and Sasuke evading the strangely molded clay a few meters ahead of them. Wordlessly, Shisui signaled his team to split; one pair came to aid the two Sharingan users in their battle against the terrorist while Shisui and the remaining member ran off in search of Naruto's group.
"Taichou, I can't sense Naruto's chakra well," Shisui's sensory partner said, alarming the Uchiha. That observation had many implications and none of them were good.
"What's out there?" he inquired.
"There are two chakras clashing. Most likely a fight. Probably that female teammate against an Akatsuki."
"We need to hurry then," he said with firm resolve.
When the two were only meters away from the battle scene, they cautiously camouflaged themselves among the thick piles of bush nearby. Peeking through the bush holes, Shisui assessed the dangerous setting and caught sight of a familiar woman with pink hair, clad in maroon clothes. He narrowed his eyes to observe in detail; she was the Hokage's apprentice, much like her in fighting strategy and healing abilities, only that she did not have the seal on her forehead.
"Taichou, she's fighting our target."
A chill ran through Shisui's spine as the target came into his view: a tall man whose face was shrouded with an orange mask, wearing a black robe of red clouds. Fear demanded to be swallowed when the sight of the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki lying around on the ground helplessly came into their range. His ragged jumpsuit was torn open, revealing his bare chest and abdomen, the latter of which was smeared with his own blood.
"Taichou, it looks like Uzumaki's seal has been weakened. That must be why he's unconscious."
Shisui let his hands roam around his white ANBU mask, fixing its position so his sight could have a better coverage. In silence, he laid his attention on the woman who was just as drained as they were, which was most likely because she had just healed her team, yet still giving the criminal a decent fight.
From his point of view, he found it odd how the woman with inhuman strength did not deliver direct blows to the man before her. She waited before the enemy could strike and only took that chance to send a quick physical attack, which sent the man flying. When he reappeared behind her, she instinctively took that as an opening to punch him in the face, but when her gloved fist only passed through what seemed like an image, Shisui then understood her fighting pattern.
All of a sudden, the enemy gave her a kick in the gut, forcing her to tumble through the rocky surface to her unconscious friend. She quickly recovered and stood her ground in front of Naruto protectively. "There's no way you're taking Naruto," she growled.
Unknowingly, Shisui leaned forward closely, finding himself captivated by her firm display of pure resolve to protect someone dear to her, regardless of the obstacles, regardless of the damage on her. There was nothing, nothing else in the moment that he could see apart from himself—the advocate who would go on great lengths to protect someone dear, the dreamer whose heart was innocent of the bitterness of reality.
The Shisui who would put a friend first, above all else.
All of a sudden, everything went spiraling out of place. The Akatsuki encircled a tight grip around the woman's neck, squeezing groans out of her. His vision rattled as his crow-masked subordinate violently tried to shake him off his daydreaming, shouting in his ear, telling him to snap out of it so they could help her.
It was over for her. It was fucking over for her. There was nothing she could do. Physical attacks would be futile.
They would be, but she still forced a fist through the man's head. And when Shisui thought her foolishness was the end of it, chakra strings flowed out of the fingertips of her fist and quickly attached themselves to the unconscious Uzumaki, banging his head against the ground. In anger, the masked man crashed the woman's head to a boulder nearby, which could have ended her life, but she was skilled enough to cushion her skull with a halo of green.
The wakeup of the Jinchuuriki was followed by a scream of pure anger after taking in the sight of his now unconscious teammate. To his horror, the enemy neared the kunoichi and held a kunai to her neck, blackmailing a tormented Naruto.
Before he could draw blood from the skin, Shisui finally intervened; he teleported his way to the kunoichi's spot and blew a roundhouse kick to the masked man's chest, forcing him to do a series of somersaults in retreat. Shisui stood protectively in front of the woman with the enemy's kunai in his hand. His subordinate followed and appeared beside a surprised Naruto.
"Karasu, take Naruto and this girl back to Konoha," Shisui ordered.
In strong defiance, Naruto argued, "But I can't let him get away with what he did to-"
"Naruto-kun, take care of your comrade. She made a sacrifice for you," Shisui said in a calm tone with a tinge of authority. The words felt strange and awkward on his tongue, but didn't in his chest.
Momentarily, the defiant look in the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki's eyes remained, but then he threw his stubbornness out of the window, carried the kunoichi, and left with the reluctant ANBU ninja.
Shisui found it foolish to have been moved by a kunoichi who was simply protecting a teammate and Konoha's hidden Jinchuuriki even. She was merely holding onto her responsibility. Yet, why did he feel that it was his to protect her?
Deep, deep down, perhaps, he thought he could somehow reconcile with the past by doing so.
Shisui trained his eyes hard on the recovered enemy. Amidst the silence in the air, the noise of anger filled in.
"Why the intervention, Shisui?"
Fuck.
Beneath the white ANBU mask, he squinted his eyes harder than what could pass as a glare. Normally, he would not get riled up so quickly, but something about the man before him made his blood boil.
If he could just know how he had figured him out…
"We both yearn for real peace. Reality has made that our dream," the man told him, drawing himself closer to Shisui. "Tell me, what makes you and I so different?"
"Your methods are far more inhumane," Shisui rebutted blankly, his voice armed with conviction. He was not certain what the Akatsuki's goal exactly was, but there was no denying that they had killed people and Jinchuurikis.
"Far more?"
Shisui was a fool, but he was not blind.
The enemy cocked his head down. "You defend a system that's retributive, that has normalized killing, that does not hesitate to end the lives of criminals or put them in unbreathable living conditions.
"You defend authorities that claim to support the protection of Jinchuurikis, when it was their doing in the first place to seal the bijuus in these people, when it has always been their intention to weaponize them."
Shisui was a fool, but he was not blind.
"Now, why is it so easy for them to reject efforts for discourse and discussion with deviants like us? Why is their idea of peace strictly enclosed within their faulty justice system?"
Perhaps…
"Why is violence the language of your peace?"
Perhaps, he had been blind all along.
"That doesn't make any of your crimes forgivable," Shisui mustered. He understood him completely. And because he did, he was desperately searching every corner of his brain for an answer just to reject his truth. "Your idea of revolution is terrorism."
"And you think dissent is a crime."
Shisui struggled to keep himself sane. The words reverberated in his ears, ringing like the scream of a thousand people. His crimson eyes itched like a parasite sucking on his heart.
His vision suddenly sharpened—the clarity around him straining his eyes. In a fraction of a second, he caught the red glint in the small hole on the man's orange mask, and all of a sudden, his sight was not the only thing that had come to clarity.
"Obito…"
The earth rumbled and the sky rained blood. Obito vanished from thin air, leaving Shisui alone in the shadow of his own dread. Hyperconscious, he tried to lift a foot and turn a cheek, but he found himself immobilized by an invisible force. The world stopped when he saw the wasteland before him, the mountain of people whose lives he had ruthlessly wrung out, the pile of criminals he had given no time to forgive, all for the sake of accomplishing a mission—all for the Will of Fire.
"Thank you, Shisui… for everything… and I'm sorry."
The stench of his lifeless friend's surge of blood, he found in the pale and unmoving body at his feet.
"Shouta!" Shisui cried. He did not deserve to mourn. He was a scum, but he was human.
The scar of his envy and the curse of his own blood's hatred—he let them manifest themselves in his bloodshot eyes. In the blink of an eye, the red skies blued and the wasteland greened. In the place of his dear friend stood the figure of his enemy.
He let his eyes gouge the life out of the man before him.
After that, darkness was all he could see.
If the mind desires to be fooled, the eyes stop looking at what it cannot stop believing.
"You're quitting ANBU? Why? You're one of the best ones out there!"
But when the eyes merely look away from reality, the vision will still remain, although colorless.
"What are you doing with your life now that you rarely go on missions? You must be so lonely."
The eyes are the window to the soul, but they're also the gates of deception.
"Shisui-kun, I'm surprised you agreed to go out with me. I thought you were antisocial like your cousin. I mean, you're so outgoing and warm."
But perhaps, there was nary a living soul to see.
And maybe that was why he found himself just boring into the eyes of other people, decoding the decipherable, as he veiled himself with the warmth he missed—from his okaa-san and his otou-san… and from Shouta.
His eyes were rotting, but if their decay came with the death of his curse, it was fine, because his heart was already blind.
Because in his heart, there was only darkness.
Author's Notes:
-I am so sorry for the long wait. This was the HARDEST to write. I DIDN'T EVEN PROOFREAD THIS just so I could update the fic immediately. The transitions need to be worked on. Plus, I was aiming for that depressing slice of life kinda vibe, but in the end, I just made it boring. Even though it's kinda dragging, please understand that this chapter is very important to the story.
-My writing became rusty too, I lacked inspiration. That's what happens when writer's block hits. :(
-It's really true that Shisui got his Mangekyou from deliberately letting his friend die due to envy.
-I will try to update within this week. I'm an incoming college freshman and my classes will start in two weeks. Please understand that Fanfiction is not my life, I'm sorry.
-Agh, remember Sakura's nightmare in Chapter 5? I was forced to stick to what happened to her there, just to establish consistency huhu I hate myself for not thinking this through :(
-I'M SO FRUSTRATED. This was originally just supposed to be a plain romance-humor fic, but it ended up becoming romance-drama. Decisions. Decisions.
-It was said that Itachi mastered the katon technique on his first try, but that was at the age of 9. Even if he was a natural, I think it's unrealistic to expect the same result from a 5-year old.
-In this fic, Shisui is 4 years older than Sakura and 5 years older than Sasuke. :)
-To those of you asking, there will be about 5 more chapters till the end. Actually, I originally had a great plot twist in mind but I cancelled it, because it would be dragging.
-I was busy making artworks as well.
Twitter art account: @artgenie_
Tumblr Sakura fanart account: @sassykura
I am currently working on a SasoSaku doujinshi of The Infinite Perfection of Being by Renaerys!!