2 - Jasmine ジャスミン
boughs tremble in the
wind; white blossoms floating out
and back in my palm
"So I have the Sharingan." She twines the jasmine around her slender fingers, fiddling with its small stem.
For a second, Haru stares at Hisa, a little unsure of how to proceed.
"The Clan Elders said-"
"I don't care what the Clan Elders said!" she interrupts, slowly tearing the petals off one by one. Haru's mouth gapes in shock.
When did Hisa become so... assertive?
"I'm not going to use it." She declares as he is left stuttering. "I don't want to, and I never will."
In a burst of control, Haru's eyes glint in annoyance, and she realises that he is losing his patience.
"When did you learn how to cook?"
"What?" she asks, momentarily surprised at the change of subject. There's leftover onigiri on the table, and Haru cautiously places one in his mouth.
"Not bad."
She shakes her head in a wry smile. "That the best you can say, otou-san?"
"Mariko's was better." he mumbles, and their eyes meet in a winding thread of grief.
The topic has gone unspoken for months, though she thinks that they could all do with some heart-to-heart talks. She hides her misery as Shisui cries, under the pretence of being a caring sister. She's not. She hates him, and will for eternity.
But they were a perfect family, and they still are now.
Hisa turns around almost as if to see if anyone can hear, though she can't sense any chakra signatures. Then she moves back, crossing her arms. "So what did they say, then?" A tint of curiosity blemishes her features, and Haru smiles at that.
"I thought you didn't want to know."
"Tell me," she hisses, cold fingers fidgeting with with the reeds of the tatami. So she's getting restless, is she? Haru's a little surprised at how indifferent she's played it off. She's become more mature these days. Almost like an adult.
"Fine," he sighs, giving in to her scrutiny. "But you're not going to like it."
"I can handle anything." It's ironic how her voice breaks for a second, Haru thinks, almost like it's exactly the opposite.
It's like he braces himself for the oncoming flood of questions.
"They've named you Clan Heir."
Silence.
Then a screech so sharp that Haru instinctively tries to cover his ears. "What? You must be joking!" But Haru never jokes, and they both know that.
"It's really only until Fugaku-san gets an heir," he tries nervously. "Not long now."
She's confused. Kind of. Hisa scowls and rolls her eyes, Haru's face chastising her in his own way. "Not long now, you say."
Honestly, the freedom which his daughter has! Most of the other Uchiha would probably have lost their temper by now. He can only hope that he can rein his in for now.
"So why can't Shisui?" she asks, strands of hair twisting on her finger.
Now it's his turn to look puzzled. "He's too young. And he doesn't have the Sharingan, of course."
Hisa exhales heavily. "I told you, I'm never going to use it."
He frowns at her disappointedly, and for a moment she sees a splinter of Mariko on his face. "It's your duty." Just when she thinks that she's gotten off easily, his voice drops even lower. "And you'll die if you don't."
The white flower crumples into a million tiny pieces of paper.
The next time Haru speaks to her, it's surprisingly more positive.
"Mikoto said she wants to have you round," he mentions while they're eating, almost like an afterthought.
"When?"
"I don't know."
Haru leaves the next day. So although it seems impolite, she ties her hair in red ribbons, wears a kimono so flowery pink that it would have made even Mariko recoil, and slips down the few paths to the Main House.
Mikoto doesn't seem surprised that she's there, ushering her in and bringing refreshments. At first, it's awkward, so she tries the small talk which Mariko always used to start with.
"Is this jasmine tea?" Hisa asks, watching as the flower's perfumed petals float around in her teacup.
Mikoto nods. "The senbei are from the bakery at the corner. Try it, you'll like it."
She bites into it, hints of sweet and crispy biscuit filling her mouth. The senbei are quite flaky, crumbs spilling all over her dress as Mikoto smiles.
"I've always wanted to have a daughter, you know," she reminisces, handing Hisa a towel to wipe it off.
"But you can't." Hisa says, dark eyes peering intently at Mikoto's face for a change in expression.
"I can't, but I want to," Mikoto agrees. They both know how boys are usually always favoured over girls, even when times are moving on.
"I wouldn't be your daughter, Mikoto-san," she says, ignoring the flash of hurt on her face. "Maybe your sister. Fugaku-sama is actually my cousin, you know. And we're only twenty years apart."
For some reason, the older girl laughs, a gentle, perfectly controlled peal of laughter which rings in Hisa's ears. "Still young enough to be my daughter."
"So, why am I here?" she asks, getting to the point.
Mikoto nods knowingly. "I thought you were more perceptive than you looked." Hisa evidently doesn't think so, but she continues. "The Academy starts next month, and I want to see what you think about it."
"Well," she drawls, "If I had a choice, maybe I would know myself."
"You're upset." Mikoto realises. "You resent the clan for forcing you into it."
"Not exactly resent as much as despise, but-"
"Think about it. Just think."
"About what?" Hisa asks, confused. The senbei crunches in her mouth, and she notices that the whole plate is gone.
Luckily Mikoto doesn't seem to realise. "Would life be interesting as a civilian? Doing the same repetitive things each day until your death, being normal like all the others?" One person in a sea of faces.
"I guess not," she accedes. "I don't exactly want to live like that, nee-sama." They're both instantly aware of the slip, and Mikoto blushes shyly as Hisa tries to take back the mistake. "N-not like that!"
"I don't mind."
"So you're saying... I should want to become a shinobi?" Hisa asks carefully, the jasmine at the bottom of the teacup staring at her in warning.
"Think about it. Life is for you to decide, even if everyone else wants to do it for you." Mikoto urges.
As they talk about other things, the tea swirls into an abyss of feathery light petals, a creamy vanilla melding into the sugary rich bittersweet.
She's been wringing her hands for ages now. Maybe even days.
Inside her body, the moral and internal conflict is rushing through her chakra tenketsu, tearing her heart in half. Is there something...more to becoming a kunoichi? A sense of loyalty? No, she can't be loyal to those who will ultimately betray her.
Hisa stops moving, instead choosing to stir the pot of yakisoba until it's done. The steam hisses as she pours it in, Shisui watching her intently as the wooden spoon folds the vegetables over.
"What're you here for?" she asks angrily, not stopping to consider that he hasn't even made a sound. "Not for anything good, I'd think." Although they've been siblings for only a few months, this has only fueled her sorrow and harshness towards him as she's still stinging from her previous wounds.
Not long after Mariko died, he started walking, everywhere, anywhere - only intensifying her hate for him. Now he can walk faster than her. Then when he talked - in syllables, broken words, sentences, she burned with envy from head to toe. Already a few months old and a prodigy? It's unfair that she has to suffer when he gets the best characteristics of their lot.
"Aneki," he says, because she'd lash out if he was any less formal. "I want to see."
"Get down." she pulls him away. "Go away before you get burned."
She turns around to make sure he's gone, but he's already invisible, footsteps echoing faintly down the hallway. Hisa sighs, a mixture of relief and sadness. Was she too harsh on him?
The noodles simmer gently, and she piles them into a large bowl for lunch. Although she's not even sure if Haru will be there - he hasn't come home for weeks. He's left heaps of unfinished mission reports, sentences which she tries to decipher but can't.
The scrawled kanji lie on messily strewn sheets, complicated characters which she doesn't seem to understand. Some are probably the paperwork for the Academy next month. She'll still be three, but she's not dense. War could arrive soon, looming on the new, darker horizon which veils the previously illuminated light. They need all the shinobi they can get, which is not much.
She'll be one of many. She won't stand out, although she somehow longs to. Hisa smiles at how ironic her position is, trapped between two decisions which she never wants to make.
Along the trees of spring, the blossoms begin to bud, bluebells and tsubaki spinning in the trees, their stems winding around each other's leaves. She watches the tulips bloom, birds chirping in a melody as the branches sway.
Hisa smiles as the breeze caresses her hair, the flowers slowly opening as red bleeds into white.
Then the Sharingan deactivates, a fleeting sense of hope in a perpetuity of despair.
It's not a great day outside, rain drenching the wilting flowers while the sky begins to blacken. Hisa is more than content to rest all day, maybe walk around the house for a little bit, but Haru has other plans.
"You'll have to entertain Shisui, then." he says as they eat breakfast, a freshly cooked o-chazuke which still burns their tongues.
"What?" she almost shouts, her voice so high-pitched that they're all taken aback.
"Otou-san, what does 'entertain' mean?" Shisui asks in that naïve tone, so unbearably saccharine that she resists the urge to recoil.
"It just means she'll play with you today," Haru nods, smiling at him.
Hisa glares. "I never agre-"
"Aneki, let's go play!" Shisui drags her by the hand, and she's so surprised by his strength that she forgets to let go.
"But what about-?" she asks, her voice dying down as she spots the unfinished breakfasts lying on the table. Haru laughs at her horrified expression.
"The dishes," she finishes off, sighing as no-one listens, the wind howling through the windows. Haru will never get them done, because the shinobi world has classified it as 'women's work,' which is, of course, insufferably sexist.
"Wait." she tells her brother, prising his chubby fingers off hers and slamming the window shut, to instill an ironic peace throughout the house.
He's very relentless though. However many tasks she strays off to do, he waits, albeit impatiently. By the time an hour, has gone by, then two, Shisui is practically jumping up and down restlessly.
"Aneki, you promised!" he cries, and she stares with annoyance at the tears dripping from his eyes.
"I didn't," she responds coldly, instead choosing to clean the kitchen. She wouldn't have either way.
For a moment, she turns around from her sweeping to pause and look at Shisui. Raising a hand, she motions for him to come closer, and his face considerably brightens, slight hope shining in his eyes.
Then she gives a soft, almost sad smile, pressing her fingers into his forehead as he stumbles back. "Maybe next time, otouto."
"Ow! That hurts! Fine, you have to play with me next time."
No, it's a promise which she'll never keep.
What is death? Hisa contemplates as she watches Shisui bite down on a piece of paper.
"No, no Shisui-" she lunges to grab it off him, and sighs in relief as he turns to something else. Climbing. He'll be good at that, she thinks. Much better than her.
Maybe she's lucky not to experience death yet. Maybe she should just bide her time until she finally passes out of old age. Looking at Shisui, she's glad that he doesn't have to face the dangers of this world yet. She's also aware that she hasn't seen many either.
If life is fragile, then what is death? An infinite echo of a shattered peace, a distorted reality of sorrow and rue?
Is it so wrong then, to feel a shocking thrill rush up her arms when it should be forbidden? If she's going to die anyway, then what's the point of waiting for this perpetual fate?
Shisui laughs, and she snaps out of her thoughts. He's smudged black paint all over her kimono, the dark staining into crimson. Hisa glares at him. "That was my favourite yukata," she laments excessively, and he smirks back.
She blinks at the change of expression. For some reason, it seems like he's looking down on her, judging her, holding her in disdain. She's not sure what emotion she feels, maybe regret and bitterness blended into one.
It's also frustrating to know that she can't lay a hand on him, as the prized Uchiha whose life is worth more than hers. Sometimes a splinter of pity enters a heart - a sliver of sympathy at the high expectations he has. But never mind that. She's got even higher standards to uphold.
A Clan Heir. Really, what on earth were they thinking? It's going to be at least a year before she can escape this mess.
Ignoring Shisui's small cry of pain as she pushes him out of the room (although it wasn't exactly a push, per se), Hisa listens until his footsteps die out, then sprawls on her back, hands lying freely by her sides.
She knows what this feeling is. She's bored. Uninterested. Life can't exactly give her anything which she doesn't already have. Condemning her to the fate of a civilian now seems worse than a death sentence.
But then...now that it's all set in stone for her, what's the problem of enjoying life? Hisa thinks. She's seen all the other Uchiha - stuck up, arrogant, scornful, reckless. She'd rather not be like them if she had the choice.
Is death supposed to be something to look forward to? Most shinobi live, at the most, until their middle age and no longer, and the others are just plain lucky. If it stares at her in the face everywhere, then shouldn't she embrace it? She's seen Mariko, who died smiling - an sensible woman and caring mother who did everything she could to survive.
So why can't Hisa be like that? Why can't she face it straight on? Isn't that what a shinobi - a kunoichi is meant to do? Everything is a game of life and death, a spool of hope and loss. A game.
Maybe she should look forward to death. It would be a relief from the pressure which she must face now.
As the door clicks open, she scrambles up, disrupting the peaceful rhythm of steady thoughts.
"Otou-san." she says, eyes blank but not exactly emotionless. "I want to become a kunoichi."
Does she? Does she not? She doesn't know.
Because life is a game, and she'll play it.
And the Sharingan spins out of control, trapping her in an infernal eternity once more.
Definitions:
kanji - Japanese writing characters borrowed from the Chinese language
nori - dried edible seaweed used in Japanese cuisine
o-chazuke - green tea over steamed rice
onigiri - triangular or cylindrical rice balls wrapped in nori
senbei - a sweet or savoury rice cracker often eaten with green tea
tsubaki - camellia
yakisoba - stir-fried noodles made from wheat flour
yukata - lightweight cotton kimono usually worn in summer
I know things have been going pretty slow for now, but I promise that it will get faster.
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lovehearts,
mint-chan