"Itachi."
This kind of greeting was typical of Uchiha who had possessed their awakened bloodline for a significant portion of their life.
When one could read micro-expressions, body language, and even peek into the disposition of another's chakra system things like vocal embellishment, emotional tones, and the wider range of expressions started to atrophy simply through a lack of use. Even when their eyes weren't active, though, using them taught one how to look for subtle cues.
Habit bred true and children of the more active parts of the clan would invariably impersonate their blank-faced parents simply due to familial bonds.
"Father?" Itachi asked, a quick glance away from the blade he was inspecting to show acknowledgment.
"You arrested three boys and recommended them for the penal legion." Fugaku stated, the faintest edge of concern in his voice, an unspoken, 'this isn't like you.'
"They had the requisite number of strikes against their record. I came upon them in the process of assaulting an elderly civilian while reeking of alcohol." The reply was flat, giving away no indication of Itachi's self-recriminating dark satisfaction for functionally condemning the boys to an early death. Normally, he would have taken less extreme measures but the boy, Kotaro, had already issued them a stern warning. A bit more stern even than Itachi himself would have for some random hooligans.
He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that pointed out their threats against his little sister.
Fugaku hummed in the back of his throat. "You acted within the letter of the law, this is true. As an Uchiha and an active-duty shinobi you are also on the rolls for the police force, meaning you were also within bounds in that regard as well. I merely find it curious, given your tendency to hand off cases such as these."
Itachi remained silent on the matter for a moment, finally settling on a half-truth. "Their behavior offended me. It was an affront to the village."
His father allowed the words to linger, an infinitesimal nod once it was clear that Itachi was both finished speaking and had no inclination to share further. As any Uchiha could tell you, these were two very different things.
"Fine. If that's all there is to it." Fugaku exhaled, as good as a grand sigh to the less observant. "The blacksmith's boy, then. Has your position on him changed?"
Itachi repressed a twitch at the less-than-substantive change of subject, instead making a point of inspecting the pattern on his blade and hoping that his father didn't see through his attempt not to look the older man in the eye. A lack of expression could be just as damning as an excess of it. "No, it has not."
His father grunted. "Yet you refuse to explain the particulars of your evaluation." The man actually sighed, a pointed exaggeration of his usual minimalism that he tended to reserve for Satsuki, the baby of the family. "Perhaps I should simply ask Satsuki to invite the boy over to make my own judgment on the matter."
The off-duty ANBU was unable to bury the downward twitch of his lips. "I would recommend against such, father."
"Yet you insist on forcing my hand." Fugaku replied, stepping up to the edge of the outer walkway ringing their home and looking out over the yard. "A certain allowance for your sister to assert her independence is admirable, Itachi, but there are... irregularities, with this boy. I want to know who he is, how an orphan comes to know two complete sword styles without any evident tutelage, what his disposition towards our village, the clan, and my daughter is." An empty pause filled by the distant noises of the village. "You seem insistent on not allowing me that."
Itachi turned his head minutely, exhaling slowly through his nose. Another Uchiha-sigh. He would have to give his father something. The prodigy spoke. "I seldom needed instruction myself, father."
Fugaku paused, tilting his head in his son's direction. "That is a very bold claim, my son."
"When I approached Satsuki's small training group, I tested him three times. The first, an insight into his resolve. The second, a test of his insight into chakra manipulation. The third, a determination of his physical capabilities and situational awareness." Itachi turned to look his father in the eye directly. "I honestly do not know if he felt the concentrated spike of killing intent I sent directly at him. He certainly didn't act as though he did. I believe he registered the genjutsu I applied via sharingan, if only for the bare moment it took to dispel it. When I threw a shuriken at his right cheek, something which would have caught Satsuki's other friend on the arm in a glancing blow, he recognized the ploy and caught it between his fingertips."
Fugaku's brows furrowed deeper. "...your estimation of his skill?"
"Mid-to-high chunin." Itachi stated without a second's hesitation.
His father stared at him a moment longer, a complicated series of emotional spikes across his face which told Itachi enough to divine the truth behind them. His father wanted to argue with his estimation of the boy's skill, but restrained himself for the simple fact that Itachi was both a superior shinobi in general and a far more insightful judge of combat skill, if not a person's overall character.
"It's truly a shame, then, about the boy's condition." Fugaku stated at length.
Itachi dismissed the fleeting specter of guilt. His father had never understood hisownpreference for non-violence, he would not understand the motivation in a crippled orphan, even if he bore all the hallmarks of a genius.
Because Kota could be nothing less than a prodigy.
There was much he wouldn't inform his father of, besides the boy's restrained attitude on the shinobi lifestyle. Kota's movements, even in the lull of daily milling about and the running of errands, were a strange mix of absently hyperfluid and consciously focused to a startling degree. The timing of each step, the pace of his footwork while he was walking, let alone practicing the sword. Then there was the fact that he suspected Kotaro might have potential as a sensor as well, if raw and unfocused.
Initially, he'd been randomly observing the child simply out of a basic need to confirm what he had told him that day in the clearing. Every indication had been that he'd dropped the friendly mask he wore with Satsuki and Tenten, but given the close association with his sister, he'd wanted to bemorethan sure. In the end, after following him without any tells that the boy had noticed him save for when he'd momentarily dropped his cover during the confrontation in the alley... and, without any indication Kota was anything more than he'd claimed, Itachi had been forced to admit the truth.
He was, if only ever-so-slightly, envious of his little sister's friend.
To be able to look your potential in the eye and... not turn away, no, but channel it in a way that kept him from conflict. To resolve oneself to the life of a creator instead of a destroyer...
It would be wrong to say Itachi 'dreamed' of such a life, as dreams possessed the smallest possible chances of becoming real, but... to perhaps describe it as an idle daydream he occupied himself with in the quiet moments between missions and his family...
That would be close enough.
In the end, though, that envy was not enough to call out the lie that Kotaro lived by, even if it was transparent enough to Itachi. He could not find it in himself to begrudge another genius the chance to live without bloodstained hands, to escape the cycle of violence that plagued their world.
"Do you think anything will come of his association with Satsuki?"
The question snapped Itachi out of his musings. "We will have to see if their friendship survives the initial strain of her transition to active duty. If it does, the likelihood increases."
Fugaku hummed in the back of his throat as he reached up to slide his thumb across his chin. A more absentminded gesture than he usually allowed himself. "I had been against such a thing, you know, when I saw how her eyes flashed with happiness when she spoke his name. A civilian orphan, and a blacksmith at that..."
The words tasted bitter in his mouth even before he spoke them, but Itachi forced them out for his sister's sake. Now that he had seen them interact on a longer term, he could hardly deny the boy was good for her. "If Sarutobi-sama does indeed believe me fit for the office in the coming years, Satsuki choosing a civilian spouse would have symbolic meaning to those not privy to the boy's skill or mindset."
Fugaku nodded, a barely-apparent motion of his head. "There are still marks of strain between ourselves and the village, even now that Kushina's testament to the truth behind the fox's attack has had time to filter into the general populace." Another ghostly sigh. "Madara's stain does us no favors even today... but, yes, if things between the two do come full circle in the coming years, I will allow Satsuki to convince me of the benefits of such a match."
His father's lip twitched in the slightest of grins and Itachi felt his own follow suit at the thought of how earnestly Satsuki might plan and plead for an approval already secretly given.
"At least his work with that sword he gave her hints at a talent for something useful." Fugaku muttered, leading Itachi to smother another smirk at the tone of self-consolation buried in the words.
"He's advanced beyond that." Itachi stated, unable to help himself as he reversed the grip on his sword and handed it to his father, who took the steel curiously. Tracking the older man's eyes as he inspected the strange water-like pattern on the blade, he continued. "I purchased two, intending to test one to its destruction. It survived even channeling a few of my heavier techniques without warping or fracturing through intense chakra use." A self-deprecating huff left his throat. "I find myself with a spare, now."
"The blade is thicker and wider than normal." His father noted with the slightest raising of his eyebrows before giving it a vertical swing. "It's lighter than it should be, too, for this size." His father's intense gaze turned to his son. "He has only been learning for a year?"
"If he is learning at all." Itachi nodded, deceptively attempting to sell the man on allowing Kotaro to continue his civilian life even should the older man discover the boy's 'condition' could be compensated for were he truly willing to press himself. "I asked Sagara Hoshi, the boy's master, for details on the blades' tolerances. He had the look of a man remembering what was told to him, not one reciting knowledge from his own mind. If the blade performs as well on my upcoming mission as I believe it will, I will recommend ANBU procurement discreetly purchase several."
Even if it was technically a breach of conduct to acknowledge his status to his father openly, the man was a sitting member of the clan council and the violation amounted to little more than legal pedantry in the face of reality.
Fugaku nodded slowly, flipping the blade to return it to his son. "Chakra blades are too distinctive in their markings for your work and I, myself, went through no few normal blades in my time. If the child truly has discovered a process that bridges the gap between them, the secret will be worth quite a bit."
Itachi nodded, satisfied at the appreciation in his father's speculation. Swords such as the boy made, he knew, would likely only be the first innovation he brought. Or second, really, considering the ninja wire he'd grown fond of after sampling it. The swords would bring him far more attention though, and with it, wealth. Kota likely knew little of how hard shinobi were on their blades in the field. Enhanced strength through chakra, offensive and defensive clashes with jutsu, the tendency was for even the highest quality blades to strain or warp after intensive use.
He would need to keep an eye on the boy... or at least instruct Satsuki to, perhaps. A bit of encouragement in the correct way could help his sister along.
…
"Here's your cut."
My head jerked up as Sagara dropped a large bag on the table, thankfully avoiding hitting my latest watch assembly as my eyebrows climbed.
"I thought I wasn't getting paid yet?" I asked the grizzled man in surprise.
He scoffed and lowered himself onto a stool at the table to begin digging into the curry I'd laid out for him. "Nails, tools, wire? That's basic shit. Your swords are good 'nough to sell now, you keep half. I'm still your master and you're selling out ofmy shop, so the other half's mine."
I nodded slowly, uncaring of the somewhat arbitrary rules of fairness the man operated under. Honestly, I was making enough pocket change in tips and running a few odd jobs for the people I delivered stuff to that I had a budding nest egg for whenever I decided to head out on my own. "Yeah, sure." I paused, looking up. "Thank you, sir."
Sagara grunted and swallowed. "You do the work, you earn your share. Smart kid, hard worker, don't got any gripe against paying you your due."
I slotted in the last gear and tightened up the tiny screw in place, grateful that magnetized tools weren't that difficult to craft. I fiddled with my new pocket watch a bit more, the sounds of my tools working and Sagara's eating the only noises in the kitchen besides the low crackle of the hearth-forge fire in the background.
"Speakin' of work." Sagara stated, looking up from his food and scratching his beard as he thrust his spoon at me. "You said you could make more o' that wire an' better swords if you messed around with the forge. How long'd that take you?"
I leaned back a bit, absently moving the tray with my parts away as I grabbed for the plate of curry I'd made for myself earlier before letting it cool.
I ran the math in my head again before nodding to myself. "A week? Maybe shorter, but a week to be safe. Have to snuff the forge, though, and cut a new hole in the roof."
Sagara grunted and was quiet for a moment. "Next month. Making good money on your swords, wire, an' those new clay shuriken an' kunai. Got money put aside, but want a bit more. Let everyone know we're closed for the week. Draw up a list o' what you need, Kota, an' walk me through it."
...they're ceramic, not clay.
But I was smart enough not to correct the man when he was doing me a huge favor by letting me essentially rebuild the forge from the ground up like this. I'd be able to make so much moreif I could get the heat up higher.
As it was, I'd only been able to forge Damascus steel because of my freakish precision with hand-eye-coordination and advanced knowledge of smithing techniques.
The new swords were the absolute furthest I could push things with the resources I had right now, but if I could rig up a basic bellows and maybe dig out room for a secondary forge beneath...
Oh, yeah, I can make this work.
"An' stop grinnin' like that, it'll creep out the customers, they see that." Sagara grunted.
I schooled my expression properly. "Ah, yeah... need three days from now off. Crazy clan girl decided we're friends now, she wants me to see her compound."
Sagara frowned, his brows furrowing. "The Uchiha girl? Or you got another one?"
I sighed. "Another one. Cause I'm an idiot." Really, this was more on Naruko than me. She'd decided we were friends and had unerringly tracked me down whenever I was out on errands outside of academy hours. Actually, no, Satsuki had done mostly the same. Tenten was the only one of the three I'd made any effort towards befriending, and that was just an offer to show her how to use her new sword.
"Make sure she comes in an' buys stuff." The blacksmith grunted, letting me take that as approval for my requested time off.