3 - Oolong ウーロン茶

tranquility rules

the hollows of nature; an echo

of ataraxy

She's sitting at the edge of the riverbank, dangling her legs over the sparkling lake. It's one of the most scenic places in Konoha from her vantage, the sloping, uneven curves of the Hokage Rock shadowing the sheath of trees.

Footsteps.

Hisa turns around, but her face stays as indifferent as ever, striving not to betray the surprise hidden beneath. "Is Shisui not coming?" She asks sullenly, clutching a rough pebble in her hand, one which scratches her fingers into dark lines. She throws it across the lake, watching as it bounces once, then sinks, creating a little splash which ripples outwards as its waves froth.

"No," Haru answers, standing behind her. "He's too young for this, and we don't have much time." The air seems so tense that she could cut it with a dull knife.

"What are we doing, then? And why don't we have much time?" Another stone. It springs three times, then disappears for good in the bottomless abyss, the void where many have drowned before her time, their ashes ceasing to remain.

"You'll see." She stands up, taking her time to walking along, occasionally running to match Haru's quick strides. Boots are so much more comfortable, Hisa thinks. She'd thrown away her old outdoor sandals and borrowed new shoes from Mikoto.

Strangely enough, the other woman has clothes for every occasion, maybe more so than Mariko had herself. Though a year ago, Hisa wouldn't have believed it either.

"Here," Haru beckons, snapping her out of her reverie. Turning her head from side to side, she can see a large expanse of lake, a border of cluttered trees far away in the distance. The features of their Hokages are barely visible, small spots in the distances, though still strangely clear-cut.

Cautiously, Hisa steps to the end of the boardwalk, her toes teetering at the edge. "You don't usually go outside with me, let alone without Shisui."

"He'll be fine, it's not like we've abandoned him, Hisana. Any member of the Uchiha clan, whether child or adult, must be able to fend for themselves." She focuses on the ground, eyes trained downwards at the leafy flora growing around nearby. A bee flits about, darting in between the petals and plundering its share.

"Doesn't make it any less dangerous," she mutters. "It's not like I really care anyway, just, you know...accusations." She gives Haru a sidelong glance and he sighs, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Really, Hisana, it's because you'll be Clan Heir until Fugaku-san's child is born," he exhales tiredly. "And don't let me remind you of the sacrifices I've made. As a previous Clan Heir, you will become a renowned kunoichi, able to overcome the prejudice between branches and regain the benefits befitting the position." The benefits really are no use to her, Hisa thinks, since she's more interested in staying a civilian.

"Is it really going to make a difference?" She'll just get on with her life after that anyway, so what's the problem with learning a little later? "I can just stay with my class when I go to the Academy, like every other child in Konoha." The shinobi academy is a school for prospective ninjas, the largest stone-walled building in Konoha housing the circular frames of the Hokage's office. Some Uchiha children traverse the long, cobblestoned paths everyday, carrying their backpacks and waving at everyone they meet. Innocent, she thinks darkly.

"An Uchiha is not like every other child," Haru bristles impatiently. "As a Clan Heir, you have standards to uphold and raise. I'll teach you how to use chakra for now, and then we can move on to other things." Chakra - the essence of life. A hum which she barely feels as her mind wanders to other ideas, like recipes and housework and tea ceremonies.

Hisa bites back the urge to retort. "You ask a lot of me," she scoffs. "I won't be able to, especially since I've haven't activated the sharingan many times. I'm not used to it yet - it makes me dizzy all the time." The temptation to mess up his plans burns stronger, and she unconsciously tightens the ribbon in her hair. They both know her about her tiny lies, embedded in a sea of pretences and pleasantries which they all go through.

"Activate it," Haru orders, undeterred by her small distractions.

"I don't know how," she lies. Hisa experiments whenever he's out of the house, relishing in the familiar surge of chakra as red swirls into her eyes. But the grief which washes over her, drowning her, is definitely too much to bear. "I can't exactly control my emotions, seeing as they're the 'eyes that reflect the heart.' And it's not like I want to feel depressed everyday?"

"You do know," Haru glares at her, causing her to look at him in surprise. So he has noticed after all. She wouldn't have thought so, with how many missions he takes. "I saw you in the garden that day." She was looking at the roses that day, Hisa remembers, the claret-wine colour of the flowers eliciting the sharp memory of Mariko coughing blood. She wouldn't have known otherwise if she hadn't peeked through the shoji screens, awoken from a harmless nightmare which plagued her much less than reality itself.

"Fine." Hisa scowls. The sharingan does bring advanced perception and other greater abilities, but it often makes her nauseous at the unfamiliar new senses. For a minute, she spins slightly, arms held out to balance. The world rotates on its axis, the skies at her feet and the earth crashing down on her head in a barrage of rocks.

When she finally regains her senses, everything seems clearer. Not hidden by sorrows and longing, or a vague happiness, but brimming with life as energy threatens to overflow. The sky seems brighter, the change of even a single refraction visible to her enhanced eyes.

"Good," Haru nods approvingly, though not yet quite satisfied. "Watch carefully and focus on my hands. You'll have to recreate the jutsu after." Before she can mutter a word of protest, he runs through twelve hand seals, a blur of movements. It's so that she's not even sure what she's seen, having been distracted by...other things. Haru waits, expecting her to copy them immediately.

"I didn't even see them!" Hisa huffs, nevertheless forming each one as slow as she can and making a few deliberate mistakes while she tries. "I'm not that great. Why don't you ask Shisui? After all, isn't he much better than me at, well...everything?" His name still leaves a bitter taste on her mouth, her mind fighting an internal civil war.

"Nice try," Haru replies, forcing her to go through them again. She curses the sharingan for having perfect recollection as her hands try to stumble over the signs. It's not difficult to make the mistakes; on the contrary, it's harder to make it seem accidental. She pricks her hand with her jade hairpin, forcing herself to move slower - a bloody rivulet at a time - with the blinding pain.

Nothing happens, maybe an occasional fumble as she tries to slip on one of the hand-seals. Haru's eyes look at her carefully, suspiciously, but he can't exactly prove that she's doing it wrong on purpose. The birds screech around her, wings fluttering at her sudden, rapid movements.

"Do I have to do it again?" Hisa groans as Haru glowers at her. "You're not being exactly encouraging. It wouldn't hurt to have a few praises here and then," she mumbles. That only proves to enrage him further.

They go home at sunset, dusk swooping over them as clouds flee away from the darkening purple of dusk. She's not really made much progress, but maybe that's to be expected, especially since it's her first time trying to meld chakra into something she can use.

Shisui is waiting for them as they return, clutching at her legs as soon as she steps in. "Aneki! I'm hungry!"

Hisa pulls something out from the fridge - rice, chocolate, she doesn't know what, handing it to him as he runs riot in the house. Haru smiles tiredly at the scene while Hisa frowns. She's the one who has to clean his mess up tomorrow. And maybe she'd be more supportive if she wasn't obliged to train everyday. The house is a mess already, piles of unfinished documents heaped all over the floors while pens roll off to the side like dominoes.

"I need to rest," Hisa sighs, completely worn out from the tiring exercises she's done. She can't, though. As the lines under her eyes sink into grey, they train outside wherever and whenever. The hand-seals are repeated over and over again until she can twist her hands into unnatural positions with the ease of a contortionist.

As week by week passes, the slight grimace disappears from her face, her speed increasing with more practice and effort she puts in. It makes life easier if she doesn't mention that she doesn't want to, especially since Haru berates her for every mistake she makes. After a while, he decides she's ready for something else, even though she begs him to stay on the same level. The slower the better.

But this is worse. Chakra lessons. At home, outside, anywhere, it won't matter. Training lasts hours, and she's always shaken, worn out into threads by the time she's finished, heart beating wildly as she releases the energy outside of her tenketsu once more. She's mentally and physically drained by the effort of having to force the chakra out to gain a larger reserve.

"Can we take a break now?" Hisa asks while Haru observes her. He doesn't answer, so she stops immediately, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows. Stretching her legs a little, she slips down into a kneeling position, though this time out of exhaustion rather than respect.

"Continue!" His eyebrows furrow as he barks out the command. "You're a genjutsu type, good chakra control - why don't you focus on that?"

"I'm trying," she grits out, panting from all the exertion. Hisa recognises the term from one of the many overheard conversations between her father and mother. Genjutsu are illusions, abstract worlds of mental manipulation. Although not many are capable of them, they're not the best when trying to physically hurt someone. Hisa scowls even more. "What's so great about genjutsu anyway?"

He stills.

The world shakes. She's thrown off her feet, hurled into a swirling vortex as the earth flies from the ground, the red skies crashing down into an explosion. The destruction is still there when she spins, reaching out for something tangible.

Hisa smashes into a tree almost instantly, hot blood trickling from the wound. The bark is rough and cold underneath her palms, horror etched clearly on her face. Haru watches her as she tries to restore her balance.

"W-what is this place?"

"A genjutsu."

The terror isn't over. Shakily standing on her feet, she's overwhelmed by the white-hot pain which rushes through her veins - her palm, she sees. A knife stabs through the middle, blood dripping down in a waterfall of agony. Why isn't she unconscious already? Hisa thinks, losing the battle to live between her mind and her soul.

She screams, a long-winded, high-pitched sound which absorbes all her suffering and torment. She can no longer register him by her side, but maybe that is just as well, since-

Suddenly, everything slots right back into place, her body turning around to counter the pull to the ground. It doesn't work. She's lying on the ground in a daze, wondering why her surroundings seem so normal now.

There's nothing. She feels nothing but pure shock at what she's gone through. Hisa presses a hand to her forehead, but there in no flash of pain, no blood on her fingers. Her palm is free of the wound which once tormented it minutes ago - in an imaginary world, perhaps simultaneously real.

"Do you get it now?"

She nods meekly, her glassy eyes gazing defiantly into Haru's unusual Sharingan as they slip into unconsciousness.

When she awakes, it's early morning - she's still alone in the middle of the grounds, the boardwalk just steps away from where she lays. Hisa scrapes off the green moss sticking to her kimono and brushes the hair from her eyes, tying the loose hair ribbon back again.

Haru isn't there. He must have gone back. She inwardly curses him for leaving her there, hunger taking over her as she realises she hasn't had a bite to eat in hours. Perhaps this is part of his so-called efforts to urge her to be stronger.

The lights guiding her to the path have not yet dimmed, the door at the end of the road turning easily at her touch. It slides across the smooth wood while she kicks off her shoes, heading straight for the kitchen.

Cupboard. Her hands grope at the handle, but there aren't any tea leaves. Hisa needs to find some. Now.

Tea is what makes up the essence of her existence - it's irresistibly addicting and keeps her awake for most of the day. The ceremony might be long and unnecessary, but the drink itself is warm and inviting, hot fire pouring down her throat and revitalising every inch of her body.

"Are the shops open now?" Hisa wonders, looking up at the clock. It reads 'five-fifty a.m.' One of the bakeries in the compound opens at six in the morning, due to the many housewives fighting over half-priced bread and two-for-one cakes. They're all much more scary than any shinobi could ever be, and Hisa doubts even a jōnin could restrain excited mothers when there's a bargain on sweet treats.

She shudders, tugging the dark haori off the hook and walking out of the house, hands tracing patterns over the uchiwa fan sewed into it. The Uchiha crest. Something she'd never want to be associated with. After a few moments of debating, she slips it on, but only because of the cold air which blasts through the house when she opens the door again.

The Uchiha compound is not somewhere she's really explored before, but it's easy to get around once you know where everything is. She doesn't, though. It's more confusing with all the crowds and loiterers, so many she didn't know were in her clan. People mill around the street, the dusty pathways swept by tired, haggard-looking women, whilst young mothers carryshopping bags and boys with the Uchiha crest on their shirts run around to play ball. She fits right in, marching right up to every stall in the street, without a single sceptical glance about her age.

Hisa's surprised at the amount of activity there is in the early morning when everyone's supposed to be in bed. The bakery is near the entrance of the compound, cobblestoned pathways running down the edges of the lane. There's a young woman and her husband who own the stall, freshly steamed buns and trays of pastries heaped on the shelves behind them.

"Do you have any matcha, please?" Hisa asks, debating whether to speak any louder over the hustle and bustle of the crowd. She repeats it again, raising her voice since the woman appears not to have heard her. "Have any matcha? I need a few packets, ne?"

"No, we don't have the type you want," the woman replies as Hisa's face falls for a moment. "But we do have some other tea leaves."

Seeing her hesitation, the lady smiles. "I'm Uruchi, what's your name? You seem quite young to be put by yourself, don't you?" Hisa actually has to tiptoe to see over the stall, and even then she can't reach the desk. She takes a large inhale of warm, fresh air filled witht he promise of sugary sweetness, the prettily-assembled buns only a testament to the fragrance.

"Hisa," she answers, without skipping a beat. "I need some tea leaves and it's urgent." She shouldn't get distracted by anything else, or she'll be delayed by hours with her sweet tooth.

Uruchi laughs. "Oh, I know what you mean. Shinobi usually come home suffering from headaches and all sleep-deprived nowadays.I guess the Hokage's assigning more missions now that..." She trails off as Hisa blinks at her. "So, which one did you want again?"

"Oh, that one," Hisa points to a random packet, digging into her pockets for spare change. The silver fifty-ryō coin is handed over. "Thank you!"

Shisui and Haru are still not awake by the time she's home. While the tea brews, she closes her eyes, feather-light whisk in hand. The familiar bubbling sounds just like a stream, a light layer of froth foaming at the top.

Hisa turns over the packet. Oolong. A tea from a different nation, then?Carefully, she mixes the powder in, watching as it floats on the surface and disappears.

"Aren't you tired?" Hisa asks, looking at Haru with a sidelong glance. She's known he was there from seconds before, since he didn't bother to hide his chakra signature.

"What're you doing, up so late in the morning?" He counters, leading her to cross her arms in annoyance.

"There wasn't any tea in the house, so I went to get more," she answers simply, gathering a plate to scrape food from the fridge. She breaks off a square of chocolate for herself and bites into the smooth cocoa flavours winding around the almonds.

"You're making tea," he glances at her thoughtfully, the pot now filled to the brim with steam.

Has he just noticed now? "So?" Hisa narrows her eyebrows. "What is it? It's not like it's a problem, right?"

She can see gears turning inside his head as the cogs whirring into motion, fitting every last puzzle piece into place. "What do you want?" She asks, slowly. "I still haven't forgiven you for leaving ne outside, you know."

"Uchiha must be prepared for every outcome," he replies. "If you can't survive just one night outside, then I don't see why you should become a kunoichi."

It's not like she wants to, Hisa thinks, more like she has to. "What if it had rained?" She asks, folding her arms. It's almost ironic - there's a light drizzle leaking into the gutter, the breeze banging into the tightly closed windows.

Haru shrugs, only increasing her infuriation. "This will be useful for your studies," he says, taking a sachet from his pocket and handing it to her. "You can pour it in now."

"To the tea?"

He nods.

She stares at him before tearing it open, pouring the contents into the tea. White. The powder dissolves, swirling into the green liquid until there is nothing left. Or so it seems.

A second passes. Nothing happens.

Raising the teacup, she tilts it to her mouth to take a sip. Haru slaps her hand before she can taste even a drop, the mug falling from her hand onto the floor.

Smash.

"What was that for?" Hisa cries, shards of ceramic digging into her hands as the tea spills into the tatami mats. "Really, you don't know how much work I have to do to clean this all up!"

She trembles as she removes the splinters of pottery from her hand, the scalding tea dripping down her kimono. It sears her bare skin, her ruined dress blistering her flesh.

A soft whimper of pain emerges from her mouth, hands digging blood into her palms. She'll have to clean up the spillage and pick the pieces of the mug out of the mats later, not to mention that her kimono was ruined.

As she makes an unsteady motion to stand, Haru finally speaks, so quietly she almost doesn't hear what he says. "It was white snakeroot."

A deadly toxin known to be fatal to humans. "P-poison?" Hisa shrieks, "I could have died! You told me to mix it in the tea, and you knew I was going to drink it! Why did you-"

"I didn't tell you to put it inside," he responds coolly as she directs her most intense glare towards him. "And you didn't die, did you? After all, you're standing upright, so I don't think you'd have ingested any."

"Think is the wrong word to say," Hisa growls in frustration at his nonchalance. "How is white snakeroot going to help me? It's called poison for a reason."

"It won't," Haru states. "But it is incredibly useful to us, and it is best if you study them in depth."

To them. It's all for them. For the Uchiha Clan. Useful. That's what she is.

Haru smiles. "I'll teach you about that, then. We can start tomorrow."

There are no words to explain how broken Hisa feels right now, the dregs of poison bubbling at the bottom of the teacup in the shape of an ominously bloody knife.

She's on the edge of the boardwalk again, relentlessly practicing her first ninjutsu, a fire element. The wide, endless lake creates a perfectly controlled environment for any fire techniques, mostly because it avoids Konoha being burnt to the ground.

"Gōkakyū no Jutsu!" Haru shouts, a large fireball erupting from of his mouth. Although she's fascinated by the mechanics of the element itself, she really should have paid better attention to the hand-seals. The tree shakes with the current he produces, a branch falling off and swimming in the lake.

"Can you please do that again, ne?" She asks sweetly, deciding to have some fun. "I didn't catch that."

Haru frowns. "Oh kami, really? You haven't even activated your sharingan! That'll make it easier to copy the technique itself, you know."

"Oops," the corners of her mouth turn up into a wry smile while he groans and makes her start over.

Annoying him is just too easy.

She still has to learn it though, but he knows he's lost. It seems too useless to tell hin she's memorised it by the first week already, only to rush on to something else. Using this method, she can postpone her training for at least a month and also persuade Haru that she's the worst Uchiha Clan Heir in existence.

"Hisana," Haru deadpans, "I know you can do it now."

"..."

"I'm a jōnin," he replies, "Of course I'd know."

The next day, Fugaku is there.

Her skin turns to ice, brow creasing furtively at his hypercritical eyes. "Perform it," Fugaku instructs her, inspecting every hand-seal she forms and the exact angle of her posture.

Hisa hurries over each one, almost missing a few in the process. She knows that this isn't perfect, but she manages to exhale a good-sized fireball. Although it's not the best, Fugaku nods at Haru.

That must mean it's approved. But then, why is he even there in the first place? To test her?

"Good enough," Fugaku concludes, causing her to almost scowl. Hisa catches herself in time. The compliment seems scarcely offered, though, so she'll take it anyway.

And then she sees the inexplicable pride in Haru's eyes.

"You're an adult now, Hisana. Never forget that." Fugaku says gruffly.

She stills. An adult?

"The Gōkakyū no Jutsu is a rite of passage into adulthood," Fugaku explains at her confused look. "Haru-ji would have told you earlier. You can no longer be considered a minor now."

Haru doesn't meet her eyes, indignance boiling through Hisa's blood. He tricked her. She'd never have done it if she knew. All they want is for her to be their tool in this game - whatever there is between the Council and their clan.

"Yes, Fugaku-sama," she says hoarsely. She will never be afforded the protection of a young child again.

Whatever happens, she's on her own here on out.

lovehearts,

m.b.