Chapter 04 | Mistrust is the Enemy

Skill, loyalty and deception were a sleuth's best accents. The more you excelled in each category, the longer you had to live. Each victory likened to a day's worth of living. Failing presented you with horrible consequences if it didn't bring you death and if it was death that awaited you, it was slow and painful.

But spies died every day. No matter how many perished, there was always a younger spy ready to take his or her place with a larger scope of potential.

Mio learned to liken accomplishment with the word "fleeting" rather than "living" because one misled step would take you down a different path, to where the lies showed in your expression and the damage made was irreparable. No one should ever cross that line, as invisible and nonexistent as it may be doing so meant imminent death.

All the information barreling in and out of her mind contributed to Mio's understanding of being orphaned and Sachiyo functioning without a shred of compassion. Little by little, she came to terms with all future expectations as an Uchiha spy. What was expected of her? How she was expected to carry it out? What would happen if she ever put one foot out of line? And she wasn't the only one learning.

Madara and Izuna were coming to the same understanding. Although, the latter was more concerned with befriending Mio than realizing her life may one day belong to him.

It mattered less to Madara. He figured he would have no use for a mute and in that short period of time had started looking at her differently, with a grimace or disappointment, and sometimes talked as though she wasn't there. She preferred her relationship with the oldest, mostly for its absence. The same couldn't be said about the youngest.

Izuna intercepted her path on a daily basis. On her way to lunch or dinner (breakfast being too early or being a training day), he jumped out of different hallways so she never knew where to expect him, sometimes scaring her badly enough she shrieked. She amused him and she could tell by the glimmer in his eyes.

The closest he ever came to make her scream was the time she expected him to appear from the final hallway that turned into the kitchen, but he appeared from behind and grabbed her shoulder. The gasp leaving her lips was cut short by the loud slap of her hand. He almost fell on his back laughing and she left him, soothing her erratic heartbeat with consoling words.

He'll get tired of it eventually.

He'll leave me alone eventually.

He'll stop trying eventually.

Everything was essentially the same and all "eventually." Mio hoped Izuna found the time to be compassionate enough and not give her a heart attack before the start of her training. He skulked through the corridors better than anyone did, enviously silent, and nobody stopped him from following her around, even after Sachiyo forbade him from coming into contact with her. But Mio wasn't stupid. She sensed the favoritism a mile away.

"Mio!"

Mio clamped her teeth shut as Izuna dropped down from the ceiling. She jumped backward, eyes searching every nook and cranny above her in search for a plausible reason as to how the young Uchiha managed to appear overhead, but found nothing but sleek wooden ceiling. She searched for the answer in Izuna's face, but he greeted her with a harmonious smile.

"…" Lips parted, but she quickly gulped down the urge to question him. "…"

Izuna stared expectantly. "You were about to say something, weren't you?"

Whatever fueled Izuna's persistence was nothing short of admiral. And she grew progressively curious about the easiness of his movement. If he could sneak up on her, Madara, and even prickly old Hiryuu, then he had that special something she needed to learn. Addressing him was a way of acknowledging what he could do.

Slowly, she nodded.

"So you can talk?"

Obviously, she wanted to say, but not many have the privilege. She gave a slight nod instead.

"Why don't you?" he asked with a curious tilt.

Mio considered her list of probable excuses, but merely shrugged her shoulders unable to decide on any.

Izuna stared at her a bit troubled. "Can you write?"

She nodded once more.

He brightened. "Wanna be friends?"

Mio immediately shook her head and continued down the hall.

"Why not?"

She could always learn the secret to his movements later. Today, she had a meeting with Sachiyo and Hiryuu and she couldn't be late because today would decide the course of the rest of her life.

Once Mio was safely inside the colossal hall at the other end of the mansion, she took a seat in the lone cushion placed before Sachiyo. Hiryuu stood a few feet away, glowering, with both arms behind his back, standing as stiff as a board but ready to pounce on anyone who might attack the old hag, as unlikely as it would be for her (or anyone for that matter) to accomplish. Mio was treated no different than a stranger by him. If Sachiyo had no hope in using her as a spy—the reminder stayed fresh in her mind as it haunted her dreams—then she would be nothing more than a stranger to her, Hiryuu enjoyed telling her so. Strangers didn't live long, not unless they had something to offer. But to say she relinquished vital information through traumatic process would be a complete lie. She probably held onto a valuable bit of information entrusted to her by her parents to deliver to safe hands. If spoken aloud it might lead to an internal war.

It took a complete month to determine whether or not Uchiha Sachiyo and Hiryuu were indeed as trustworthy as they presented themselves to be (Sachiyo in particular). Hiryuu made it easy to seem deceitful, not bothering to disguise his aversion to her presence, though she imagined it had a lot to do with his face and unfriendly disposition. Mio never looked at him properly since she arrived, but his eyes were deep-set, his hair cropped short and messy, and the lines furrowing his brow gave his angular face a daunting quality. His grimaces were absolute murder and judging from his status as an elder in the Uchiha, he managed plenty in his youth and far more at his current state. Revered alongside Sachiyo, they were some of the strongest shinobi the Uchiha clan had seen in years, with the exception of the boy-genius elder in their ranks.

In the foreseeable future, Madara and Izuna would assume the positions they hoped to retire from.

Mio heard about it from her parents. Both made use of her memory skills, trained her to reiterate everything told to her once without skipping a detail. That's how she remembered her daily routines, memorize and repeat. Just memorize and repeat.

"Have you considered speaking?" started Sachiyo, holding a mug of tea close to her lips for a sip.

"She's had more than a month," added Hiryuu grimly. "If she didn't talk then, she's not talking now."

Sachiyo ignored him and continued straight to the point, "I requested the presence of a medic. He is here to make sure you are perfectly healthy before I make any final decisions."

The determined look set in her expression showed that whether or not the doctor issued the paperwork proving she was as mute as they assumed, Sachiyo had various stages of a plan mapped out in her mind. There were back-up ideas to support all mistakes and other such inconveniences.

"Are you ready to see him?"

Mio felt her insides twist in discomfort, but inclined her head.

Sachiyo stood and gestured her to follow. Mio did, casting a curious glance in Hiryuu's direction. She received a disconcerting glare.

The medic-nin called up to Sachiyo's mansion was an old man in spectacles with a gruff tone to his voice and an unnerving atmosphere she suspected came with his occupation. He got along well with Sachiyo; they had a short exchange about patching up a couple Uchiha involved in a scuffle with rogues from the Wakui clan. The conversation lasted as long as it took before her anxiety turned her visible. He eventually presented himself to her when Sachiyo offered to stay with her throughout the examination, which she agreed to.

By the time the short talk concluded, she realized she had not listened to a word spoken. So, Mio sat by listening to his instructions intently and endured being probed until the medic came to the conclusion of "selective mutism."

"Her vocal cords are perfectly fine, she has the ability to speak but she simply chooses not to," he explained in detail, putting his tools away back into his medical pouch. "Whether it is extreme shyness or social anxiety, it is simply her choice to remain unsocial. Continue speaking to her normally, urge her into conversation but never force her."

"This won't intervene with her duties as a shinobi, will it?"

"Not at all. She has the same capabilities as any child her age, so no, it shouldn't interfere," he replied. "But if it is simply a choice, Mio will talk when she's ready."

Sachiyo accompanied the medic out of her home as Hiryuu reentered the room with a sneer. "I could make the transition permanent," he threatened, pacing away nonchalantly. He only cast a slight look in her direction as if she was not worthy of his full attention. "Damage to the vocal cords is simply, I could have it done in an instant."

Mio followed his movements around the room, watching how he handled the decorative objects and discarded them in the opposite end of the room with a defining smirk. Hiryuu could snap his fingers and order her to be tortured with or without Sachiyo's permission. She realized that damage he spoke of was an order away. The idea of it replayed in her mind, but as bloody as the outcome would be, she observed him boldly.

"Why don't you?"

The glass item in his hand slid from his hand, nearly smashing into the ground as the soft tenor of her voice reached his ears, but he caught it in time. He whipped around, eyebrows knitted in disbelief.

She smiled, adopting a tone of amusement. "Are we or are we not having this conversation?" she continued. "Whether this is reality or fantasy, you shouldn't assume too quickly." She started walking toward the center of the room, closer to his stunned form. "As far as you're concerned, you're imagining this because I don't talk."

Hiryuu froze, speechless. He repeated her taunt in his mind, reminding himself that she had not spoken in over two months and the idea that she had was preposterous.

"You're talking now?" he said slowly, but it came out more as a question than a statement.

"Sachiyo-sama won't believe you." Mio stalled at the doorway with her hand on the handle. "Maybe you've gone crazy. That's why you want me tortured and why you won't accept my presence in this home." She slid the door open as quietly as her steps. "That's why my mother and father warned me about you."

She slipped out of the room just as he questioned his sanity.

Hiryuu felt panicked, the words ringing in his ears, and he stormed after her, furious as he jerked her around by the shoulder. He slapped a hand over her pale neck, prepared to wring it.

"What are you trying to do?" he snapped, tightening his grip. "What did they tell you to do?"

The strangled noise she made as her knees buckled underneath her snapped him out of his rage. He felt her fingers start to claw at his. He blinked down at her, uncertain.

The small girl staring up at him with wide, vacant eyes wasn't the same person who talked, but the one that wallowed from the kitchen to the storage closet without speaking a word. Observant, always watching but never involved.

This girl stared at him frightened, the ghost of the manor and nothing more.

"Hiryuu."

The sound of Sachiyo's voice rattled through him. He dropped his hold on the girl, staring at her accusingly and snapped his attention to the elder.

"She just talked," he started, listening to her deep breaths. "She's mentioned them, her parents."

Sachiyo swept Mio off the ground and gave her a gentle push toward the end of the hallway where the colossal hall connected to a wide, unused dojo.

Mio stumbled, holding her hands over her neck as she steadied her breath. She remained mindful of her surroundings as she took the smallest of steps to leave the memory of Hiryuu's tyranny behind.

The elder strode closer to him until they were only centimeters apart, face expressionless. "You will not touch this girl again," she threatened, a low poisonous voice. "Do so and there won't be a warning; it will be your death. Now get out of my sight and sleep that alcohol out."

Hiryuu bristled. "You think I'm drunk?"

"Now," she pressed, raising her voice. She turned away to guide the girl down the end of the hall and into the neighboring corridor. "Come, child, I need to speak to you elsewhere."

Hiryuu's face turned red with fury. He nearly pushed forward to support his argument—Mio spoke to him directly, addressed him the second she looked him straight in the face and asked him why he wouldn't torture her—but a distrusting glare from Sachiyo forced it right down his throat. With an audible grunt, he swept down the opposite direction.

Mio shot a look over her shoulder and wondered if he would be okay.

Sachiyo inclined her head, the thud of Hiryuu's footsteps faded as soon as he took a sharp turn out of sight. "I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. No one would stupidly address Hiryuu in such a matter without a death wish. Your parents told you that much, did they not?"

Mio gave a curt nod.

"Good. They knew better." She dropped her hold on Mio. "I have long decided you are worth the investment. I will start your training as soon as tomorrow and we will work together until you are your best, until then you will stay under the radar for as long as I deem it necessary."

Sachiyo stopped in the middle of the hall and twisted Mio around to face her. She bent forward, eyebrows knitted. "You are an Uchiha by blood and that entitles you to certain obligations, but you best recognize where your loyalties lie," she said sternly. "Now, tilt your head back, let me see if it's left a mark."

Mio inclined her head to the feel of cold fingers on her neck.

Sachiyo rose to her feet, noting there were only traces of irritation, and stared her in the eyes. "Don't forget who put the clothes on your back and food on your plate," continued Sachiyo. "So long as you stay faithful to me, you will have a warm bed and a family to return to, and I trust you won't disappoint me…I don't want you to disappoint me, Mio."

The hidden message read as clear as day, Sachiyo owned Mio's life and she shouldn't dare take it for granted.

"I took care of your parents…"

The rest of Sachiyo's speech turned into an abysmal blur. Mio accomplished the tiniest of feats in her newfound life. Her life became valuable enough to salvage from its disastrous state and she was quite confident that in the past two months she had learned the mechanisms to the games Uchiha Sachiyo played. She only needed to wait for her worth to skyrocket to the point that she became invaluable, but it would take years of accomplishments and perfection, years that would begin tomorrow alongside her training.

"…do you understand?" finished Sachiyo.

Mio blinked, then nodded.

"Off to eat," said Sachiyo, leaving her side as they reached a fork in the corridors.

Mio shot another curious glance to the end of the hall, imagining Hiryuu's escalated fury, and started towards the kitchen.

The sound of metal reached her ears. She assumed Madara and Izuna were in the middle of training before their voices cut through the air, confirming her suspicions. She spotted them as she passed an open window, sparing with glinting weapons across the field of tall grass away from the farmlands on the opposite side of the manor.

Izuna moved stealthily, a boy made for the shadows. Madara attacked recklessly, a man made for the frontlines. They fought on par with one another, but all the same stood on equal footing with one another, exploiting each other's weaknesses to turn them to strengths. If Izuna lacked aerial skill, Madara forced him to fight among the sea of trees raining down on him with sharpened weapons and powerful jutsu that shook the ground in a fifty-mile radius. And if Madara lacked stealth, Izuna taught him with every bruise and cut he left on his body as they flitted through the fields blindfolded. Every day was a different lesson learned for the brothers.

Mio liked to watch them. She couldn't fathom how much strength they had between them. She lived her entire life learning jutsu from the man she thought was the strongest in the world, but that was only a childish assumption. Her father was a valuable asset in a community of Uchiha spies, but he was by no means the strongest the clan had to offer in war. People like Madara and Izuna were natural born leaders. Strength and ability were everything.

Mio wondered if that was the reason why Sachiyo kept them in the countryside, as far from the compound as possible. Were they hidden there to prevent the clan from taking over their training and sending them to the battlefield too early? It was in her understanding that they had fulfilled requests alongside men of Sachiyo's utmost confidence, but apart from those instances, their priority was honing their skills and learning to control the monstrous amount of chakra they possessed. If the compound had them, they would be sent on missions to test their limits, but their chances of survival dwindled in comparison to those their grandmother had to offer.

The compound was a hellhole in disguise for young Uchiha. In her short stay she learned the path she would have been forced to take had her aunt received custody of her. She would have lived in a cluttered room with ten other children, nursing infected wounds and waking from constant nightmares. Those that survived the initial training were split between intelligence where the sleuths and trackers were raised, the common shinobi where the rest were left and if they were lucky, they caught the eye of a famous name and trained under them personally to become a squadron leader if war dragged them into action. And then there were the vacancies of servitude.

Mio would have been taken as a servant, not even considered because of her inability to speak. At least, they would have taken it as an automatic failure. As Hiryuu pointed out, there was no use for a mute in their ranks. The only good mutes brought up were service and pleasure, though she only met one girl whose tongue had been cut out. She didn't want to be known for that sort of thing, so she accepted her place with Sachiyo with the utmost gratitude. There were many other places she could be now, even dead and as much as she wished the reaper had taken her the day it took her parents, she didn't want to die anymore.

She wanted to live.

"I spot Mio!"

Mio blinked, noticing herself leaning over the window facing the field as Izuna sprinted toward her. Madara stood in the middle of the grass field, surrounded by fallen shuriken and kunai, completely bothered by his brother's interruption.

Izuna skidded to a halt in front of her, covered in fresh bruises and bloody scratches. He smiled brightly. "I heard granny brought you a doctor to see if you can talk," he whispered, leaning too close to her face. "But you can talk, so I don't see what's the point?"

"Izuna!" shouted Madara impatiently. "We're not done yet!"

He must have heard it from the staff. Mio shrugged her shoulders.

Izuna whirled around. "We should include Mio! She's starting training with grandma anyways!"

"Last time she threw a kunai it fell behind her!" he complained.

Mio frowned. That was because your sweaty hand touched it before I did.

"You have sweaty hands!" Izuna rebuked. "It's probably your fault! You touched it first!"

She nearly snorted, but swallowed the urge. Her body shook with laughter.

"I don't have sweaty hands!"

Izuna leaned into the window frame, shooting her an easy glance. "He has sweaty hands," he said lowly. "You know he does, you've seen him. He cleans them on his clothes all the time. Granny always shouts at him for doing it, but he does it anyway."

"I can read your lips from here!"

"Well that's cheating!" complained Izuna, spotting the bright red hue of his brother's eyes from the distance. "Grandma said not to use your Sharingan out of training!"

"The old hag isn't here!" Madara retorted, eyes returned to black. "I bet you're going to tell her!"

"No, I'm not!" he defended. "Not unless you agree to include Mio!"

Madara huffed. "Fine! Mio can come!"

When Izuna beamed at her, she removed herself from the window and shook her head. He looked crestfallen, like someone had taken his favorite toy or deprived him of food.

"Why not?" he demanded. "We want to be friends with you."

"I didn't say I'd be her friend!"

"Nobody asked you, sweaty hands!"

Mio thanked every god imaginable for Izuna's last words because the fight that ensued between them allowed her enough time to slither away to the kitchen where her dinner awaited her. She smiled all the way there, unable to pinpoint the reason for her sudden swell of happiness, but she didn't care where it came from, all that mattered was that she felt it.

Despite it all, she was happy.

Somewhere in the lightness of her heart, a darkness had taken root and she felt without having to think it through that Hiryuu was the poison.

xl note: I always imagined Izuna would be one of those brothers that spill your deepest darkest secrets and get away with it because they're a thing of beauty. I have no idea how this came about.