—My outstretched arm falls limply back to my side. My mind comes back to today.
I pant a few times before my inhales shallow out.
I'm breathing normally again. Good.
All of that inner anger of mine dissipated once I realized my heartbeats were a little too quick. I have myself trained to calm back down whenever I start to go too off the rails. Dying from a self-induced heart attack like an idiot's not really the way I wanna go.
—I look over at Shinachiku. His eyebrows are upturned, a confused smile on his face. My always-confident older brother is unsure of what to say.
He's probably wondering what I'm thinking right now. Whether if all that's on my mind is the pink hair, or if that harsh reminder I just gave myself—that utter failure of an attempt at ninjutsu that couldn't even kill a fly—is filling my head with the fact that I'm different than everyone else.
…When it comes to people who live with some sort of a disorder or disability, there's nothing worse that someone can give them than constant pity. The feeling that you're just some sort of helpless creature that can't make anyone happy on your own, because everyone's obligated to feel sad whenever they see you.
—We both just kind of stood there, looking at each other like that. There's no longer any playful scorn or bullying in Shinachiku's face. Just the earnest intention he has behind all of it.
If my older brother acted the opposite, if he acted as if I were a small creature that needed constant love and affection lest I shatter, I don't think I'd be able to forgive him. Is going in the opposite direction—being the hand against my back that pushes harder than all the rest—the right thing to do?
I dunno. And I'm sure Shinachiku doesn't either. I can't hate my brother for not knowing exactly what to do in every situation, for being a human being that can make mistakes. And I'm not so weak that I can't take it—
I might not be the coolest, or the strongest, or the manliest—but I'm not some stray defenseless animal that passersby can pet on the head so they can self-indulge in their own kindness for a moment. My name is Uzumaki Minato—I am a son of Uzumaki Naruto and Uzumaki Sakura. The blood of quitters doesn't run through my veins.
And I'm also a perfectly respectable medic-nin, not much else. And I can live with that.
"…Hey…" Shinachiku nervously spoke first, after a long while. "…You alright, Minato…?"
It's very easy to see that he feels guilty. So I'll go ahead and cut my whining short after I've ranted for a bit, before it gets too repetitive and depressing.
"—Keh, pink hair…why…" I say exactly half of what's on my mind.
It's not fair. Nii-san's named after fermented bamboo shoots—a ramen topping—and he gets to look like the Fourth Hokage with green eyes. I'm named after the freaking Fourth, and I get pink hair. Why.
And it doesn't help that I used to have a feminine face before I hit adolescence. Back in the Academy I used to get love confessions stuffed in my locker by other boys who thought I was a girl.
"I'm a guy dammit, I'm a guyyyyyyyy." I cry; two trails of tears, bound by squiggly lines, appearing underneath my eyes.
"We know, we know." Shinachiku rubs the back of his scalp and lets his mouth hang open, a bit in exasperation. "Everyone knows you're a guy now. You don't look as girly in the face as you did when we were little kids, and everyone who was in your class got the idea after a few years." He pointed his thumb at himself and gave a Dad-smile. "Besides, if anyone tries to say otherwise, you can always come to me. I'll teach you how to shut them up."
"Eh, if it were Nami being picked on, you'd just beat them up yourself…" I looked away. Easy for him to say. What am I supposed to do, punch them so hard that I heal them to death…?
"Yeah, and I'd beat them up for you too if you really needed me to." Shinachiku put his hand back on my head. "But you're way smarter than me, and just as stubborn, and you have this scary talent when it comes to figuring out how people tick and using it to get them to do what you want. You can figure out things own, and if it ever gets too hard and you feel like you can't—then I'll come bail you out—anytime you need me to. Until then, you're the younger brother. You get the tougher love."
He messed with the top of my head, less violently this time. As if to chastise me. As if to encourage me.
I guess that's just how older brothers are.
"Don't grow your whiskers out over it." Shinachiku went on, grinning.
"None of us even have whiskers…"
This should be common sense, but obviously none of us have Dad-style whiskers on our face. We're the children of the Sixth Hokage, not the big furry red thing that lives in his stomach.
"I kinda like it, though." Nami smiled, noticing that I've calmed down. "It's really and soft and pretty like Mom's. When you bleach it, it gets really hard and wiry, and makes you look like kind of a bad guy. I think your hair looks cooler this way."
'Soft and pretty' isn't exactly what I'm going for.
Guy ninjas are supposed to be gutsy and bold, or mysterious and cool. Not freaking pink.
—I sigh out everything in my lungs, twenty emotions leaving my mouth when I do.
I really do have a good family. I know we fight and get on each other's nerves. I know we might look a little weird—if such a thing as a family that's normal exists. But I think I can say without any regret…that I love them, and that I'd do anything for them…just don't tell anyone I said that, okay?
"—Uh, before I forget, guess I should apologize for ruining your meal." Shinachiku pointed his thumb at the two bowls of ramen at the table, both cold with soggy noodles. "Sorry 'bout that."
I'm pretty sure he's actually sorry about something else, but neither of us want to talk about it.
"It's fine." I say. "It was just fifteen minute shouyu ramen. I can reheat the soup in throw in some fresh noodles."
It's kind of wasteful, but it's no big deal. I can always just cook it again.
"—Oh?"
Out of nowhere, a fourth voice has joined in on our conversation.
"Perhaps I can be of help, then—?"
Shinachiku, Nami, and I all turn around slowly, looking at the stranger who has made their way into our home—
"GAH—" The whites in Nami's eyes overtake the blues as she's struck with sheer terror. "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—" She screams at the sight.
In this loving, (sort of) innocent household of ours—
A horror movie villain has appeared.
Brown-black hair, mid-neck length, straight with pointed locks at the ends. It was as dark as her murderous past.
An oval-shaped porcelain mask, perfectly absent of any animal features or paint. Her unnatural eyes peered through the round holes in her mask, studying her new prey.
Her sword is drawn from her sheath, the blade carried low at her side. It drips with the blood of her victims, ever thirsty for the taste of that which never quenches.
Alright, I'll stop lying now. I made up all of that stuff in the bolded text above. It's just Tsunako-san. That Anbu girl from earlier, remember?
"Yo, Nako-chan." Shinachiku nonchalantly said, greeting her by raising a hand with loose fingers. They were pretty used to each other.
"—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—" Nami's still screaming.
"Good evening. Shina-kun. Minato-kun. Hanami-chan." Tsunako sheathes her oowakizashi and bows her head low enough for at least two of us to see her neck, and then stands back up straight. She's changed out from the black-and-purple traditional clothes into the standard Anbu uniform. Silver flak jacket, black pants and sleeveless shirt, metal forearm guards wrapped around her arms.
"—AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—" Nami's still screaming.
"I saw Shina-kun suddenly teleport away, and decided to come as extra assurance…I had thought that it was likely a false alarm, but…" She looked at the only Uzumaki Sibling shorter than her, concerned. "…Is everything alright?"
"—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH—" Nami's still screaming. The lungs on this girl.
"Ahhhh, you didn't need to do that. We're fine." Shinachiku sighed. Then he gripped the back of Nami's head and directed her gaze at the mystery figure that's causing her such terror. "It's just Nako-chan, Nami. Calm down."
"—AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—Oh! Nako-nee!" Nami goes from screaming to shouting happily without taking a breath or any transition whatsoever. "My less pretty big sister!"
"…Eh?" A noise of some slight shock escaped Tsunako's lips, black-brown hair rising and falling in place. Being a rather polite person herself, Tsunako-san is a little taken aback by the sudden attack on her pride.
"Uh, Nami?" I decide to defuse the situation before it can potentially escalate. "You probably shouldn't say something like that to another girl. You might ignite a small war. Also, who told you to say that?"
I skip straight past the 'what' and 'why' and go straight for asking who the true culprit is. My little sister can be rude, but she's not mean-spirited. There's another person at work here.
"Koko-nee." Nami replies honestly, not trying to hide it. Kinda figured it was her, but it was worth having her say it out loud to everyone else.
Nami doesn't have any blood-related siblings other than Nii-san and I, but she does have two people in her life that she's dubbed 'big sister'. And 'Koko-nee' meant Sarutobi Koyoka, the other one along with our dear Anbu friend here. You might remember me mentioning her name a few times, too.
"The monkey girl, huh?" Shinachiku closed one eye and raised the brow of the other. He was amused, but not too impressed.
Koyoka's…ah, how do I put this nicely…a very competitive person. She doesn't usually get along very well with other kunoichi, especially other attractive ones. She loves taking jabs at other people like this and trying to incite them into action.
"—Well, if that is the case…" Tsunako-san put her hands to her knees and leaned over Nami as a gentle adult would for a young child. She's not that tall, but her actions were indicative of a maternal-like maturity. "You can tell Sarutobi-san that if she wishes to speak so strongly of me, she is more than free to do so directly upon my person. In fact, I would be more than happy to do the same for her; face-to-face, at any time she so pleases, at any place she would find herself comfortable in." Tsunako-san smiled, the corners of her mouth just visible through the shadowed gap of her mask when she leaned forward. "Can you please tell her that for me, Hanami-chan?"
A girl's smile can mean a lot of things. Depending on the context.
"Hai!" Nami saluted, happy to play her part as the neutral messenger in this guerrilla conflict.
Think I was wrong about the whole 'ignite a small war' thing. Tsunako's dad once Jounin-sensei'd for Koyoka (probably would've for me too, if I didn't get held back a year from getting stuck in that hospital), so they're already familiar with each other. And there's probably already a war.
"—That aside, I overhead you speak of an issue regarding dinner? Perhaps I can help?" Tsunako-san asked, a rising intonation in her voice. She might be an assassin and a black operations specialist by profession, but her true passion in life apparently is trying to be the ideal housewife. She isn't married to anything other than her own sense of duty, though, so all of her efforts in that category get pushed onto us.
"Sure!" Nami says, not a second thought in her brain.
"Eh, why not?" Said Shinachiku, as if it was only natural for someone to conveniently show up and make food for you.
"Ah, no, no, no, we can handle it ourselves, you don't have to…" I say, the only one of us three trying to be polite.
"Ah, no, no, no, I insist." Tsunako-san zeroes in on me.
"Ah, no, no, no…" I tried to reject her helpfulness again.
"Ah, no, no, no, I insist, I insist…" She rejects my rejection again and again.
In our culture, it's common for old geezers going out to eat to all jump over each other trying to pick up the tab. Each of them will say 'Ah, no, no, no, I'LL pay, I insist!' until everyone's had at least two turns to offer to pay, everyone else refusing and saying they'll pay instead, until finally the bill falls onto the oldest person present on his third attempt to pay the bill. It's a pretty time-consuming and oldschool style of social etiquette, and most young people just opt out.
Our Anbu bodyguard here is nineteen years old, the same age as Shinachiku, but she was born in the wrong era.
"—Ah…is that so…? Thank you very much, Tsunako-san." I bow 30 degrees, finally accepting her help and giving one of the standard replies to these scenarios.
"I am entirely happy to help." She bows back. "Please pardon me if I am in the way—"
It looks stupid, I know. But just acting like this is all natural, not humbling yourself in return to someone who's doing the same for you…I dunno, just rubs me the wrong way. A lot of people are willing to lower themselves down below us because of who our father is and what he did—what we had nothing to do with.
My brother and sister are fine the way they are—Shinachiku's a childhood friend of hers, and Nami's just a goodhearted idiot. But I can come off as being a lot more uptight than they are. I have to make an effort not to look like a brat.
"—Oh, Nako-nee! Can you make tonkotsu ramen tonight?" Nami asks. She's making no such efforts herself right now.
"I cannot, Hanami-chan. Not in an amount of time that would be appropriate, at least." Tsunako cupped her hands together. "I can, however, make the miso ramen with extra chashu that you always order from Ichiraku…perhaps not as well as they make it, but still—"
"—I love you the best, Nako-nee!" Nami hugs the masked assassin with all of her strength, making it three for three today. Tsunako's not really the huggy sort, so she uncomfortably fidgets for a moment before passively accepting Nami's invasion into her personal space.
…Suggesting miso ramen with extra chashu in place of tonkotsu…that would satisfy someone's cravings for pork…why didn't I think of that…?
Being of the Yamato Nadeshiko archetype, Tsunako is a natural-born cook who could slave over a kitchen for hours making food for a family of ten, and then politely decline every compliment about how amazing she is come dinnertime. She's not human, I swear.
"Keh, the perfect housewife…" I look away and mutter. "My cooking skills as the guy with slightly effeminate traits cannot compete…"
"Um, that's not true…" Tsunako-san tries to go her usual route of deflecting compliments and complimenting the other person. "I think you're very effeminate, Minato-k—"
"SHUT UP!" I barked at her, my eyes turning into angry white ovals. "I'm a male, dammit…! Testosterone! Action Movies! Healthy Sperm Count!"
Tsunako recoiled at my sudden outburst. "U-um, is that so…ahem…my mistake…" She puts a curled-up hand in front of the invisible mouth of her porcelain mask, the shapes in the eyeholes glancing away. She's not sure what she did wrong.
Shinachiku pulls her aside and starts whispering to her, starting a hushed conversation—
"[Hey, Nako-chan? Don't pick on Minato right now. He might explode if you do.]"
"[I see…did something happen? He seems considerably less levelheaded than usual…]"
"[Yeah, it's my bad. I was kinda being a dick to him. See his hair…?]"
"[Shina-kun, you really shouldn't be mean to your younger brother. Bullying family isn't cool at all…]"
"[Yeah, I know, I know…]" Shinachiku's eyes closed, his eyebrows tied into a dissatisfied knot.
Wonder what they're whispering about…looks like she's lightly scolding him about something. She has to bend her neck back a lot further back than I do to look up at him. Tsunako-san's a little bit shy of 160 cm, and Shinachiku's over 180. In overseas terms, I think that means he's almost a foot taller than her.
"Well, if it is all the same…" Tsunako says after her secret conversation with my older brother. Time to cook.
We move to the kitchen. Our masked bodyguard's already familiar with the layout and where everything is, so it doesn't take her any time to get started. She deftly summons out everything she needs from the kitchen, neatly arranging all the ingredients into rows on top of the counter.
"—Here, Tsunako-san, you're going to start with broth, right…?" I rewash my hands. "I'll chop and wash the vegetables for the broth handle the marinade for the eggs."
"Ah, no, no, no, you don't need—"
"Please just say yes." My eyebrows point up. "I'm trying to get better at cooking myself, and I can always learn something by watching you." I circumvent her overpoliteness by making it look like I'm the one imposing.
"Ah, there is absolutely no issue with that. And I suppose it would be quicker this way." She quickly changes her tune. "Please, feel free."
"—Then I'll help out too. Why not?" Shinachiku butts in.
"NO!" I shout with the fury of a nine-tailed demon. "No, no, no!"
"Is this another one of those politeness games where I have to insist three times?" Shinachiku puts his hand to his chin, curious. "Because I'm not too good with these kinds of things, I like honesty better."
"I am being honest! I mean 'no' as in you're banned from the kitchen for all eternity." I clarify. "You're as bad at making food as Mom is."
"Hey, take that back!" Shinachiku protests. "No one's worse at cooking than Mom is! Remember that one time when she almost killed us?!"
I cocked my head. "You're going to have to be more specific, she's done that a few times."
"I mean that time she made rice balls with special filling, and everyone passed out! Dad ate a ton and had to go into Sage Mode so he wouldn't die!"
"Oh…right. That time." I recall Shinachiku's story. I wasn't conscious for most of it, but somehow Mom managed to make a highly lethal, odorless substance out of nothing more than egg whites, vinegar, and an array of packaged seasonings. How Mom managed to do this, exactly, was actually a subject of great scientific curiosity once my coworkers got wind of it. Her special rice ball filling was later analyzed in a lab, and then hailed as a serendipitous breakthrough in the fields of chemistry and medicine. They immediately presented Mom with the miraculous news. The lab was destroyed with a single punch.
Mom's not bad with food as long as it's something simple…it's just that she's too talented of a poisonmaker. Each time she gets too into it, her instincts kick in, and she ends up making something terrible.
"…Alright, maybe not that bad, Nii-san, but you're still pretty bad. Stay away from the food supply."
"Oooohhhhh, come on!" Shinachiku insists. "I won't do anything without your permission, I'll just be the lowly assistant's assistant, the bitch's bitch!"
"Grrr…but…" I'm still a little mad at him for my recent pinkification.
"Come on, you can be senpai! I'll be the clumsy underclassman running late to class with toast in my mouth!" Shinachiku intently stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth like an idiot. "Put me in coach!"
"Ahhh, fine." I sigh out. "Do whatever you want. Wash your hands and help me with the green onions if you really feel like it."
"Yes, sir!" He happily replied. I don't think I need to point out the irony of him calling me that.
"—Then I'll be the taste tester!" Nami butted in.
"—You'll be the dishwasher!" I smiled.
"Nooooo…" Nami cries weakly in despair.
"What are you getting all sad for? Thought you'd be more excited, Nami…" I look off into the upper corners of my eyes and slowly sidle up to Shinachiku, giving a sales pitch for the superior specimen right next to me. "Especially when Nii-san here washed dishes every day when he was learning the Rasengan…he even told me that it was his secret training that he used to become the youngest ninja in history to master it…"
"I did?" Shinachiku asks.
I dig a thumb into the back of his ribs. He heals for 5 HP.
"I mean yeah, I did!" Shinachiku corrects himself. "I washed dishes all the time. Yep. That's why I'm so fast, I washed dishes every day until I was the fastest."
"Eh?" Nami's eyes turned into suspicious black lines. "That sounds really uncool…and I don't remember you ever washing dishes, Onii-chan…"
"That's because I was doing it so fast, no one could see it." Shinachiku winked and lied through his teeth.
"Wha—Wow!" Nami's eyes got really wide. "That's cool as hell! There's no choice, I have to become the best dishwasher! Dattebana!" Uzumaki Hanami pumped her fists towards herself and then ran off to the pile of dishes in the sink. I get the feeling she's going to break a few of them.
—I ask Nii-san to grab two knives for me, and whisk together the egg bath that the soft-boiled eggs are going to go in—1/2 cup mirin, 3 tablespoons of soy sauce, 1/2 cup of water, splash of sesame oil, 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon of white granulated sugar. It blends into a sticky dark brown, the harsher and cider-like odor of dark soy sauce mapled with a fragrance of something sweeter, a swirl within the nose like that of cinnamon. It's a little hard to describe…but if I had to sum it up, I'd say it's like—
"—Oooohh Nakkkooo-channnn." Shinachiku sung, having grabbed five knives. "Think fast!" He threw the sharpest one straight towards the back of her head, a guaranteed kill—
—She caught it between two fingers, having casually raised a hand away from the miso broth and behind her head.
"Nice reflexes." Shinachiku complimented her. "Looks like those eyes in the back of your head work even when you're multitasking."
"Shina-kun, please don't throw knives in the kitchen. Someone could get hurt." Tsunako gently set the knife back down on the counter. Her 'disappointed mother-in-law' frown could be sensed through the porcelain.
"Really? Just mild disappointment about playing around in the kitchen?" Shinachiku smirked with a parted mouth and white teeth. "No anger over the attempted murder?"
"'Murder' would constitute an intent to kill." Tsunako explained. "If you wanted to kill me, you would not have announced my name beforehand, and you would have aimed for my blind spot above the first thoracic vertebrae. Moreover—"
She pointed at the handle of the knife that Shinachiku had thrown. It had the Hiraishin seal on it, freshly inked.
"—you would have teleported at the very last moment if you had thought I were in real danger, which I was not."
"Oh, so basically if it did hit, it would've been voluntary manslaughter instead? I'd be sentenced to ten, be out in six years on good behavior?" Shinachiku grinned. Then, he leans over towards me. "Look at that, Minato. This is what happens when you bully a girl too many times. She becomes immune to all of your efforts to piss her off, and begins plotting the best way to kill you in your sleep."
"I am not plotting anything, let alone something that awful…" Tsunako-san sadly says, put off by the suggestion. She didn't share Shinachiku's propensity towards darker jokes.
"—Hey, can I try?" Nami asks, seeing Shinachiku's half-assed assassination attempt. "Just give me a second…here!" She fishes a kitchen knife out of the sink…OH, now you'll get a dirty knife out of the sink…you little…!
"Good idea, Nami!" Shinachiku encourages her, and slips the handles of his four remaining knives in between his knuckles. "Hey, Nako-chan! Wanna do some makeshift kunai deflection practice? You can use that knife I threw at you to block…Oooo, or you can use this spoon if you want to do hard mode."
You wanna know what real hard mode is? Trying to control my brother and sister at the same time. It's hard enough to handle just one of them by themselves, but when Hanami and Shinachiku get together, they bounce all sorts of terrible ideas off of each other. This is one of them.
"Hey, hey!" I grab both of my siblings by the crooks of their elbows, holding back their upraised arms. "Seriously not cool! You can't just use another human as target practice for kunai or knives or forks or whatever!"
Granted, I think Tsunako's probably skilled enough to successfully deflect all of them, but still…pretty rude.
"Ah, I would prefer if you would listen to Minato-kun, please." Tsunako-san calmly answered, her voice not betraying any nervousness. "I'd like to start making the noodle dough, and I would prefer to have my full concentration for that…and I'd rather not make a mess and get knives and silverware scattered about on the floor…"
Homemade dough for ramen noodles is pretty hard to make. It's a time-consuming process and entails kneading flour with gradual amounts of water and alkaline salt—alkaline salt being something that stings the hands when touched without a glove, and what inevitably makes the dough exceptionally stubborn and hard to work with after a few minutes of kneading. I've made ramen dough by hand before, but honestly, it's usually better to just save yourself the stress and get some fresh-frozen or air-dried noodles instead.
"Fine, fine." Shinachiku sighed, setting down all of his makeshift weapons and disarming Nami with a pluck of his index finger and thumb. "It's immature, you're right, I shouldn't be doing it in the house. I'll stop…"
He tossed the last knife in his hands up in the air…
"…On one condition." Nii-san caught the knife in the air with his pointer finger, balancing the tip of the blade with his fingertip, no blood drawn. "Nako-chan—take off the psycho killer mask already. We're off-duty right now, you don't need to cover your face up. Those things get stuffy, anyway."
"Technically, I am within Naruto-sama's Household." Tsunako countered. "Which means I am obligated to—"
"—Technically, you're inside a house that you've been in before—plenty of times before—and long, long before either of us joined Anbu." Shinachiku fired right back at her, shrugging with a grin. "In fact, if you can remember back that far, I used to drag you here with me before either of us even entered the Academy. You weren't wearing a mask when we played together way back when. You're not hiding anything by wearing one now."
I have seen Tsunako-san's face before, and I can attest she has nothing to be ashamed of in that category—far from it, in fact—but she's an absolute stickler for following the rules, even when there are virtually no consequences to be had from breaking them. Meanwhile, Shinachiku was the complete opposite. He never wore his mask, and only knew the rules as to go against them.
They were childhood friends, but they were also night and day. It was an unusual kinship, one that could only be afforded by those who could look beyond each other's flaws.
—Shinachiku flips the knife that he's balancing on his hand with a few deft flicks of the wrist, recatching it again and again, each time the pointed end of the blade landing on a different fingertip, never cutting him or drawing blood. It's feels dangerous and stupid just to look at. He could very easily slice something off if he misses the mark or puts just a little too much force into it.
"Put your hair down for just a little bit, alright?" He smiled, gently this time, without any mocking or provocation. Shinachiku had a gentle smile in his arsenal too; along with all the wild, smirking, and Dad-style ones. He just didn't use it as often. "You'll kill yourself with stress if you try to be the perfect woman all the time in every way."
"…I would still prefer not to, Shinachiku-sama." Tsunako changes the formality levels in how she addresses Shinachiku, a pretty clear attempt to distance herself from her personal relationships and her official duties. When she was first appointed to Anbu, she started addressing all of us with the '-sama' suffix, up until we had to tell her to stop and go back to speaking to us the way she did before.
"That a fact?" Shinachiku's smile doesn't change, neither does his tone. "In that case, it's an order. As your squad leader and as the Anbu Commander. From now on, bare your face during your time spent with us on the private floors of the Hokage Mansion, Tsunako-san."
Shinachiku never calls her 'Tsunako-san'…in fact, he doesn't ever refer to anyone with a '-san', unless he's being sarcastic or trying to prove a point. It's the latter in this case.
"…Is that so…" Tsunako slowly acknowledged. Anbu are obligated to follow certain traditions, but they're also obligated to follow their superiors' orders without question. For someone who is strictly by the book, this presented a dilemma.
"Please?" Shinachiku tilted his head, keeping the same smile all throughout, trying to push her into accepting it. "You're practically family, as far as I see it."
"Practically family…" Tsunako sighs for some reason, disappointed at something in my brother's words. A rare type of expression out of her, one that could possibly be interpreted as a form of complaining. "…Very well, I understand." She answers, after some time.
She places her fingers against featureless porcelain covering her face—
'I order you to take off that mask and chill out right now'…if I could only train a certain bug girl I know to listen to that command…
—her mask unclicks against its fastenings, falling into her hand—
A long bang of hair, between the colors of black and brown, fell flat between her eyes, brushing against the side of her nose and ending with a lateral curl. Tsunako's face was one of delicate features, soft skin, unprominent cheekbones, and a gentle smile without dimples. A 'traditional beauty', as old folk would put it. I'm not really one to categorize how girls look myself, but I think I can attest that she's good-looking at least. Not that that has any effect on me. She's more of an older sister as far as I see it.
She definitely has that 'wise mother, loving wife' look down pat…
…And of course, she also has the lavender-colored Byakugan eyes.
Hyuuga Tsunako's father is a branch member of the Hyuuga Family, a man by the name of 'Hyuuga Neji' who fought my Dad in the old Chuunin Exams some thirty years ago, and then narrowly avoided death in The War.
Despite that, and despite there being an heiress in the Main House who exceeded the age of three, Tsunako's forehead is bare; without the four-pronged manji of the Hyuuga Clan's cursed seal. She was the first member of the Branch House to be born after certain laws forbidding it were made. There's some tension thanks to that.
The Hyuuga Clan and my own family…do not get along very well. One of the first things Dad did when he became Hokage was make good on a promise some years ago about changing one of the Hyuuga's ancient practices. Traditionally, the village leaders do not openly interfere with the clans' internal affairs—and especially not noble clans. And especially not when there are four other villages that can overhear about it, especially not when those other villages might dangle certain promises in front of the disgraced clan's eyes in exchange for an eventual backstabbing. And especially not right after a seventeen-year-old Genin, with no political backing, rose to power thanks to popular support and just plain being stronger than everyone else.
And especially not when another one of Konoha's noble clans with special eyes had been meddled with in the past. A clan which was slaughtered on the orders of a village higher-up—one that was part of some backroom conspiracy named after a tree, or something.
Walking right up to the Hyuuga Clan's Head and demanding they change their centuries-old tradition of the cursed seal because I'm the Hokage and I say so—that goes against basic politics and common sense, as well as the unanimous opinion of the Village Council at the time. It's not something the Hokage is supposed to do. But Dad did it anyway, because that's just the way he is.
Even the majority of the Hyuuga's Branch House protested the Main House's rights beings stepped over. Personally, I can't say I support a form lifelong subservience backed by the threat of supernatural torture and death—enslavement, depending on your choice of words—but I think I can understand why the veiny-eye people were so upset.
—On top of banning the Hyuuga's Branch Family Seal, Dad also declined a political marriage that was offered to him shortly after that would have patched things up. The woman that was offered up was the same age and a member of the Main House, and apparently also quite smitten with my Old Man at the time, too. But instead, Dad rejected their offer and chose to marry for love over duty. Not the smartest move for garnering political capital, but then again I wouldn't exist if he didn't marry Mom, so I don't think I can criticize.
Now, all of this being said, internal attitudes towards the Caged Bird Seal were already changing in the years leading up to my father taking office, and it's been over two decades since the changes took place. I don't think there's anyone in the Main House today that wants to return to the old ways. More than anything, it was a wounding of pride when Dad decided to ban all new inscriptions of the cursed seal and outlaw the activation of all existing seals, not an ideological one. And the Hyuuga have benefitted from Postwar prosperity the same as everyone else. And as easy as it would be to paint an entire group of people as irrational jerks, the reality is that they are thinking human beings too, with their own cognitive ability to weigh the pros and cons of their potential actions.
In other words—our relationship with the Hyuuga Clan isn't so bad that they're going to rebel, or anything drastic like that. It's more like we're not invited over for dinner. And there's still a few of them that are cool with us. Tsunako's dad—that guy that Dad once fought in the Chuunin exams during the War Era—is on good terms with ours. So is that Main House girl that Dad was supposed to have an arranged marriage with—I've met her a few times before, she's a really sweet lady, and she eventually ended up getting together with someone else. I'm friends with her son.
And of course, there's also this particular Hyuuga right here, who's anything but tense around our family—
"—Minato-kun." Tsunako called out to me, her thin arms pressing strongly into the hard ramen dough, expertly rolling in all of the crumbly flour into one consistent shape. "If it's not too much trouble, could you peel the eggs for me and marinate them?"
"Ah, hai." I answer, doing what she asks. She's already gotten as far as the six-and-a-half minute boiling in hot water to the post-boil cooling in ice water, I just need to be an extra pair of hands and finish the last two steps.
—I crack one egg against the metal side of the pot, lightly, as to not contuse and rip the egg white and yolk. I don't quite get all of the shell off, so I have to pick the rest off with my fingers.
I prefer my soft-boiled eggs to be unflavored in shouyu ramen—you know, since there's already a bunch of soy sauce, and you're just muting the other flavor my adding more—but a soy sauce and mirin marinade goes really well with the ramen eggs in other types. The timings for your marinades for ajitsuke eggs can vary pretty greatly—here we'll probably just do a quick dip and then call it good. When doing tonkotsu ramen, I usually go for the 24-hour marinade and let the soy sauce soak the entire egg white and permeate the yolk. You can get a really strong burst of flavor from using one of those in the final bowl.
—Once I get all the little cracked bits of eggshell off, I drop it into the egg bath I whisked earlier, rolling it around in the dark brown so I get an even distribution across the surface. I grab the next egg and crack it—
—I hear Tsunako-san diligently dusting down the countertop with flour to roll out the ramen dough.
"Haa—!" In a misuse of her gentle palms taijutsu, she karate chops the hard dough into eight symmetrical pieces. She doesn't seem to have any qualms with using her clan's techniques for something as menial as that.
…I wonder how she really feels about it. Underneath all that politeness.
The Cursed Seal of the Hyuuga Clan cannot be removed. The seal is etched as permanently inside the brain as it is on the forehead. Dad's tried to find a way to undo it. He's had a team of fuuinjutsu specialists research several possible methods. The secret texts of the Hyuuga Clan have also been dug up and consulted. They all give the same answer. Attempting to alter it results in traumatic brain shock and death of the bearer. The ancestors of the Hyuuga knew what they were doing when they first invented the Caged Bird Seal in the Sengoku Jidai. If there was a built-in a way to undo it, an enemy clan might've been able to find out about it and use it to obtain the Byakugan for themselves, or a branch family might've used it to rebel against the Main.
Even if Tsunako does not have the cursed seal herself, and even if there will not ever be another born to that destiny, she still has to live with the fact that her father does. Even if his daughter was spared the same fate, even if the Main House and the Branch have made great strides to narrow that once-insurmountable distance between them—Tsunako's Father will always have the one part of him that he will only ever be able to change with his death.
Is that the worst fate in the world? Nah, probably not. If you know of the Ninja World's true history; then you know of best friends being forced to kill each other, rival clans striking at each other's children, fathers sending assassins after their own sons—but nevertheless, I think it begs a serious question:
Why is Hyuuga Tsunako so devoted to us? Why does she choose to be in such personal service to the Hokage and his Family, when she's an accomplished enough shinobi to be anywhere else? I guess if you were against the fact and wanted to make an argument, you could say that all she's done is trade one bird cage for another.
Perhaps it's because she feels indebted to us because Dad saved her father's life and then saved her from a life of servitude, and that she's doing it out of pure gratitude. But honestly, that just sounds unhuman to me. If the combination of reading Prewar history and listening to other Postwar teenagers has taught me anything—it's that we don't go every day thinking about the everyday privileges granted to us, the ones that once didn't exist—rather, we forget about them. If you grow up with a father and without a cursed seal on your forehead, are you going to think about the 'what if it was the other way?' every single day and use it as the principle for how to live your life? Probably not. Normal, happy people don't think of depressing things like that all the time. They're afforded the opportunity to forget.
Maybe it's the complete opposite, and that her service is not out of gratitude towards us, but to spite another. Perhaps by obeying us, lowering herself before us, being nothing but a convenience to us—she was really rebelling, mocking her own blood with her servitude towards another. As if every bow and compliment she gave to the Uzumaki Family was a spit in the face to the Ancestors of the proud Hyuuga Clan. That in every act of humility towards us, she was in actuality humiliating her Elders, seizing open their eyes and shouting—'Look! This is what the strongest of the Hyuuga Clan is! This is all that the pride of the Hyuuga has become—a glorified houseservant to the Hokage. Isn't this what you wished for, a servant?'
Or maybe it's nothing dramatic like that at all. Maybe she's just a kindhearted person, and she finds that life's easiest when she's being her honest self—a woman who enjoys doing kindhearted things. Not all of us in life aspire to be needy equals or have the desire to push others down in the competition to become the sole one who rises to the very top. Some of us enjoy less arrogant pleasures; like modesty, cooperating with others, being the hand that pushes up, and joy in seeing our friends achieve their dreams. I'm not sure if that's the kind of person Tsunako-san is—but I think I can understand where she would be coming from if she were.
"—Minato-kun, if you know where it is, could you get me the strainer? I'm going to start boiling the noodles soon." Our homely Hyuuga asks…how the hell did she flatten all the dough and feed it through the noodle roller so quickly? Elite level ninja are scary when they apply their manual dexterity into the culinary world.
"Yeah, of course I know where it is. Bottom drawer to the left of the oven. Here—" I take it out and offer it towards her. "What do you need a strainer for? Is this some sort of special miso broth where you put a bunch of vegetables in the bottom of the pot or something?"
"It's not for the broth." Tsunako corrects me. "It's for the noodles. Cooling down the ramen's noodles after boiling them helps keep the texture firm and washes out any extra cornstarch that might still be stuck to the surface."
"Cornstarch?" I ask, her answer having led to another question. "And what's that for?"
"Stopping the noodles from sticking together during the cutting process. Apply it to both sides after you've flattened the dough, right before you feed it through the roller. Each noodle will maintain their own individual shape this way." Tsunako elaborates.
"Ahhh, that's why my pitiful bachelor-level noodles were coming out wrong." I sigh. I think I vaguely remember Ayame-san mentioning cornstarch in the starter ramen recipe she explained to me, and my brain just automatically skipped over that information. I'm not a fan of starchy noodles, so I kind of thought I could get away without it. But as long as I don't clumsily clump all of my noodles together in the pre-boil stage, and strain them out with cold water afterwards, I think I could eliminate 80% of the starchy taste on the surface…interesting.
"Well, it is no worry." Tsunako smiled, her gentle expressions finally visible without that mask in the way. Simple, feminine, joy. If there's a complicated reason for her being here, I can't see it. "If you keep trying, then you'll definitely get it one day, I'm sure."
"Hai, hai. Ganbarimasu." I halfheartedly reply.
…As we are having this conversation…
"Hey, Nami. Any luck on deciphering what those two are saying?" Shinachiku leans over to the other cooking illiterate in the room.
"…I like ramen…pork cutlets with miso…Nako-nee's homemade noodles…ahhhhhh…" Drool dribbles out of the corner of Nami's mouth, having short-circuited again.
"…Huh? Hey, you two. You guys broke Nami with your food talk." Shinachiku calls out to us.
"Have you tried the reset button?" I ask.
"Nope. Lemme try." Shinachiku takes a finger and bops Nami on the nose. "Didn't work. She's still not moving."
"Pffffft…" Tsunako suppressed a laugh coming out of the corner of her mouth. It sounds kinda…I dunno, what's the word—'cute'? Not usually the word I'd use for our masked killer here, but that's the best way to describe it.
"Let me handle her then," I say. "I know a trick. Besides, I need to clean the table anyway." I grab a piece of chashu from the pan and dangle it in front of Nami's face. She follows me to the table in a sleepwalk and sits down. Success.
—Tsunako's only the third or fourth strongest member in Anbu, but she's the most diligent and loyal out of all of them. She's trained for assassination, infiltration, covert operations, and anything else that needs to be kept off the record. When necessary, Anbu units can be activated at any time to serve their village and fulfill their purpose. But these days, most days, there are no assassinations to be carried out. That's not to say they never happen—but if you're one of the few ninja in Konohagakure who spends their life training to be the best, and then devote themselves to what is absolutely necessary—chances are you're inadvertently setting yourself up for a career that's 90% sitting on your hands and being ready.
When you pair an exceptionally motivated personality with do-nothing work, it can lead to a lot of idle moments of wasting time and meaningless busybody tasks. Like this stuff that she's doing right now.
Can an elite ninja be happy like that, just being a glorified lapdog? Seems to me like somewhere down the road; they might get sick of it, figure that they're a ninja and not a servant, and hand in their mask.
But that's their choice to make. It's not up to anyone around them to make it for them.
For now, I'm glad that she's so close to our family, even if I don't quite know the entire reason why. We're the harbingers of chaos, and she's infinitely willing to put up with all of it. Our Family is lucky to have her on our side.
"—Shina-kun." Tsunako calls out, in the middle of running water over the noodles. "Could you please get me bowls for the broth? Four of them."
"Sure…Minato, where are the bowls?" Nii-san asks me while my back is turned to both of them.
"Right of the microwave. You used to live here too, you know, and you still halfway do. Thought you'd know by now."
"Lay off me, alright? I usually go out to eat, I'm not a homebody like you." Shinachiku says. "Here, give me a second." I hear him reach into the cabinet for tableware.
—My heightened senses also pick up something else.
The skillful glide of the noodles under the kitchen faucet's stream has suddenly becomes static, hitting only one spot, water spilling out of the strainer at a fixed angle. The constant motion of Tsunako's busybody hands has halted—meaning: she's distracted by something.
—I glance over my shoulder. I use the edge of my eyes to catch a glimpse, as to not interrupt.
Tsunako-san's staring at Shinachiku's back while he's looking the other way. As soon as he turns around, she looks away, pretending like she was looking at something else.
…Well, I can probably guess at one reason why she comes over here all the time.
A/N: Phew. Once I started writing these Uzumaki Sibling chapters, I didn't want to post any until I found a nice point to stop and pick up from later. Hence why it took four months. Skip the A/N if you want.
Tons of strange writing decisions on my part, but I'm personally very happy with the result (even if I could self-criticize for at least 2,000+ words). Definitely not the type of fic that would build a large readership, but that's cool with me. Might get some negative reviews. That's fine too. I'm insanely obstinate about writing the way I want once I get started, and my favorite fics on this site are often peppered with scathing reviews and nerds going 'actually…' when someone gets something wrong. Doesn't matter too much what other people think as long as I enjoy it myself.
Don't have much more to say, so lemme just let you wonderful and beautiful people know how appreciative I am of you for getting this far and sticking with me on this OC-infested, next-gen Narusaku world that I'm trying to figure out. I might write for free, but you're here reading for free. Life's a short and precious thing, you know. I'm glad you chose to spend a bit of it with me here today.
Think that's it. One day I'll do a huge 1,000+ word A/N, might even make a few of you laugh doing it. But as for today; the snow is melted, the roads are clear, and it's a few hours away from morning. Think I'll hop in my puny Hyundai and take a little adventure—
Talk to you later.