On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they do not belong to you. 
-Kahlil Gibran

 

0. Uchiha Shisui is three and there's too much blood on the bed.

 

The nurse is packing her supplies in silence. The room is dark, save for the bedside lamp casting a sepia glow over everything. His father is sat on a chair next to the bed, hunched over, head in his hands.

 

His shoulders are shaking.

 

Shisui's small pudgy hand wavers above the sheets, trembling. Finally he sets it on his mother's cold, limp hand. His fingers curl around two of hers.

 

He stares at his mother's lifeless body with dry eyes. Her long black hair contrasts sharply against the white of the pillow, and her pale sunken face still bears traces of the pain she felt during childbirth. Next to her head lays a small wrapped bundle, equally devoid of a heartbeat.

 

His little sister.

 

He squeezes his mother's hand. She doesn't react. Realization sets in, slowly and then all at once.

 

I'm sorry, I say, unheard, unseen, but felt.

 

His eyes burn. 

 

I'm sorry for your loss.

 

His world bleeds red.

 

1. The look on his father's face when he looked up to see that his son had awakened the Sharingan over his mother and sister's corpses would forever haunt Shisui. 

 

Not as much as the loss of his love would haunt Uchiha Shinsuke, though.

 

The Second Shinobi War had left the shinobi two legs, three children and a career short, and while the clan had supported him and given him a means of living as a candlemaker, everyone knew that Shinsuke did not take well to the civilian way of life. He hid it behind his usual loyalty to the clan and a new mastery of candlemaking, but the devoted fierce warrior was gone.

 

It wasn't uncommon to see him sit or hobble around with a somber expression. The only ones capable of bringing genuine happiness to him was the little family he had left.

 

His wife, Uchiha Shione, could have him in stitches with just a few witty lines and a quick devious grin, and his youngest son -the only child he had left- never failed to blow new determination into his father. 

 

Shinsuke would do right by them. The war was over. The clan was thriving. There was hope.

 

He would do right by them. 

 

Then Shione died. 

 

She died and she took with her all that was left of him. Shinsuke couldn't even muster enough the will to grieve their daughter too. Burned and buried, as has been custom ever since the founding of the village.

 

The sky is bright and cloudless where it should be grey. It should be raining, to wash away the salt on his cheeks, the dust on the tombstones. Uchiha Shione. Uchiha Keisuke. Uchiha Kagome. Uchiha Arashi. And his unnamed daughter. 

 

Burned and buried, and his heart along with them.

 

He barely feels a young hand slip into his. Shisui. Taking or offering comfort, perhaps both. It's only the two of them here, after all.

 

Either way, Shinsuke does not squeeze back.

 

2. Fugaku regrets coming here.

 

It was supposed to be a quick clean job. A side errand really. Visit the clan's newest candlemaker, pay his condolences to whatever losses this member has undergone, buy his impressive weapon's arsenal, go home to Mikoto.

 

Except that the side errand proves to be nothing less than an A-rank mission, with his cousin Shinsuke clinging to the last vestiges of his shinobi career. 

 

Fugaku could technically order him to give them up, but he's been clan head for a mere two years now and he isn't planning on having the same dictatorial reign as his father had. Respect given is respect returned and genuine trust is only gained through finding the middleground, through stalemates. 

 

Patience. Patience has always brought him success. Fugaku hasn't had to raise his voice during a transaction since he took over his father's title. He's proud of his record. It's spotless.

 

It seems that Shinsuke is hellbent on breaking the record.

 

Fugaku ought to have the man strung by what's left of his knees for his insubordination, but he can't because they warned him. Candlemaker Shinsuke does not care anymore. That's what's whispered around the clan, between guards during the night shift (Shinsuke doesn't care anymore, huh. Got a kid too. Poor kid.), amongst the wives during tea parties (He only has one child left. Everyone he loved is gone. Oh, dear…), and it's what Mikoto told him, something heavy in her dark eyes (His name's Shisui. He's three.). 

 

Uchiha are many things and gossip mongers is one of them.

 

Fugaku thought 'does not care' might translate into 'gives away weapons collection without kicking up much fuss'. He was sadly mistaken.

 

Fugaku sighs, "If it's not money you want, then might I propose-"

 

"No." Uchiha Shinsuke may be Mikoto's cousin, he bears no resemblance to her. Fugaku is secretly glad of that.

 

Fugaku's right eye starts to twitch, but he make sure to keep his hands on his lap where he's kneeling in seiza, "Shinsuke-san-"

 

"Take my son."

 

If this man interrupts him one more time Fugaku will- Wait, what? "Take… your son, Shisui?" 

 

He does not care, resounds in his head. A shinobi that doesn't care is an euphemism. An Uchiha that doesn't care is- Fugaku squashes the thought. He's not that far gone.

 

The middle-aged man finally deigns to look at him. The look on his face gives a whole new meaning to dead fish eyes. "My son needs a sensei. Bring him under your wing, and my collection will be yours."

 

"I'll have a teacher ready for him." Fugaku allows carefully.

 

"No, it must be you."

 

The nerve of this man. "I am a clan leader. Do you think I have the time to teach a distant nephew? He's not even registered at the Academy!"

 

"He has the sharingan."

 

Fugaku pauses. When? "How?"

 

"His mother."

 

Ah, of course. Fugaku falls in contemplative silence. It's not uncommon for Uchiha to awaken the Sharingan outside missions. A relative's unfortunate passing can be traumatic enough. Fugaku's father had given him a puppy when he'd learned to walk and it hadn't left this side since. He remembers the clan joking that he's more Inuzuka than Uchiha. 

 

When Fugaku had turned six, his father had killed the dog and Fugaku's world had bled red.

 

A dead mother, a gutted friend. In the end the Sharingan would give back more than it had taken.

 

"Shinoe." 

 

Fugaku looks up but Shinsuke isn't talking to him. The man has returned to staring out the window, humming under his breath. "Shinoe. Shinoe. Shinoe."

 

Ants crawl up Fugaku's back and he grips his knees tightly to not give into the urge to bolt. He wants to get out of here, preferably yesterday. He can handle rudeness. He can handle disrespect. What he can't stomach is seeing the toll of war, the scars of loss.

 

He doesn't care anymore.

 

Poor kid. Poor, poor kid.

 

It's a second of utter weakness, Fugaku knows. A clan head shouldn't cede to the demands of one senile man. But Shinsuke isn't the only one who's been through a war and Fugaku has had a long day and he wants nothing more than to go home. To Mikoto. He's tired.

 

"Shinoe. Shino-"

 

"Alright," he concedes, "I'll teach your son. Up to genin level clan techniques."

 

And the smell of candle wax is making him nauseous. 

 

3. There's a boy training by the lake. 

 

Shisui stops and stares.

 

The boy is a few years older than him and obviously an Uchiha, judging by the fan on the back of his jacket and the fact that he's actually allowed to wield weapons inside the Uchiha compound.

 

The shinobi of the Uchiha clan train by the lake all the time, but there are days where there's no one. Shisui was walking home when the distinctive bright orange of the boy's goggles caught his eye. Nevermind that Uchiha and bright colors is an oxymoron on itself, 

 

He's in the middle of a kata, an Uchiha clan kata to be precise. That also is nothing new. What's new is just how much he's butchering one of the most basic katas.

 

Whoever his teacher is, he's not doing a good job of it, I mutter and look down at the captivated child next to me. If he even has one, I add, my hand absentmindedly stroking Shisui's locks, except it doesn't. It passes right through his head, intangible like Obito's-

 

Oh my fucking god, I snap my head up to gape at the boy, at Uchiha Obito. Destroyer-of-worlds Obito. I-didn't-get-to-use-my-dick-so-y'all-are-gonna-feel-the-blue-balls-too Obito. Not-even-a-genin Obito. 

 

Shisui, I hiss, because I'm bound to him, have been since his birth (and that's one ordeal I wouldn't mind forgetting!). My presence has always had some visible effect on him. My whispers compel him, my touch coerces. In little ways, yes, but it is more than any other in this world has ever felt of me, and I tried. God knows I tried to be seen.

 

I crouch down, as if he'll hear me better with my lips next to his little ear. Shisui, go to him. It's Obito, you should go to him.

 

It's not that easy, of course.

 

Shisui moves, but not in Obito's direction. He goes home, leaves his sandals by the door, enters the living room only to be greeted by Uchiha Fugaku.

 

Is this Meet Canon Characters Day? I snap at the ceiling before again kneeling next to Shisui and ushering him into greeting the clan head. Bow, Shisui. Yes, like that. Say hello. Good.

 

"Shisui-kun," Fugaku nods, tall and serious, "Your father and I agreed that I'd start teaching you our clan techniques."

 

Your father and I, he says, but there's no sign of the man.

 

Fugaku crouches on one knee and cups Shisui's cheek, "Show me." He commands.

 

Shisui understands, it's instinct. His eyes burn briefly and when it fades, his vision sharpens. Fugaku's eyes glint red for a second but it's gone when he nods. "One tomoe."

 

He taps Shisui's temple with two fingers and the boy blinks, scarlet turning dark. "Where's Tou-san, Uchiha-sama?"

 

"Hn. Come." Fugaku goes to the door and puts his sandals on, completely ignoring Shisui's question. "Let's start your training."

 

My glare could burn a hole in the wood, even as I gently push Shisui in his direction. I follow too, thoughts of waifu-grieving Obitos forgotten as I focus on the new set of events.

 

Well, I forget Uchiha Obito. Shisui does not.

 

4. "Nii-chan," Shisui calls out.

 

The older boy startles, nearly tripping over his feet as he turns around. "Oh, hey," he says, sighing in relief, "Thought I was gonna get an earful."

 

Shisui cocks his head to the side but lets the comment slide. "Here," he reaches out a bento box.

 

The boy blinks and points at himself. "F-for me?"

 

Shisui nods and steps closer. "I asked Mari-obaa-san how to make one and she helped me." He pushes the box at him. "It's delicious. It has to be because I made it."

 

The boy grips the box with hesitant hands. Looks at it and then at Shisui, and there's confusion in his eyes. "But why? I don't even know you." 

 

"I'm Shisui," he answers clearly and then hesitates, shuffling his weight, "You're Nii-chan, right?"

 

"My name's Obito," he says as if Shisui is confusing him with someone else. That will not do.

 

"I know," Shisui says impatiently, "Obito-nii-chan. I made it for you. I have one too." He points at the bento box he left next to the lake shed. "Do you want to eat together?"

 

With the way Obito's staring you'd think he's going to activate the Sharingan. I hover my hand above Shisui's shoulder in comfort, hope he feels the warmth of my palm.

 

"But… why?"

 

Shisui straightens and makes sure to look in his eyes and articulate well, just like Baa-san taught him to. "Because we're family."

 

.

 

"...and then I had to help this grandpa with displacing new furniture. I can't just 'no', ya know? It's a grandpa! But then I was late for class and Karara-sensei made me do ten laps around the Academy!" Obito tells between bites of rice and sweet potatoes.

 

Shisui muffles his giggles behind his hands. They're sitting at the lakeside, a few weeks into their friendship.

 

"If you want, Nii-chan, you can come watch us when Fugaku-sama teaches me." Shisui says, bringing the topic back to where it's begun. It's been lost somewhere between Obito pranking some Uchiha guards and playing with Rin. He's good at that, never losing sight of the conversation.

 

Too good even, because Obito's trying to avoid answering the question and Shisui is making it very difficult for him. He could tell him and be done with it, Obito thinks morosely, but then he'll have to explain why he doesn't have a Uchiha teacher, why nobody but Obaa-san takes care of him, why he never says no to the meals Shisui brings, even though it feels like he's exploiting the three years old.

 

Because we're family, Shisui had said and it stings. But in a good way. But it also makes the rice taste like ash in mouth.

 

Besides, he's already been watching Uchiha-sama train Shisui in clan katas and kunai wielding and shuriken throwing, although spying would be a better word for it.

 

"Nah," he grins, "But thanks for the offer, Shi-kun!"

 

5. The child does not say much. 

 

He does not express much either. His face is a blank slate, and Fugaku wagers it's less because of facial paralysis and more a carefully constructed mask. If he'd not demanded the child to answer when spoken to he'd have thought him mute.

 

Fugaku does not care (and he's determinedly ignoring the irony in this). He's here to teach the child the basic techniques of the clan, that's all. He's not a sensei. He's doing his part of the agreement. And he's doing a swell job of it.

 

The child takes to the teachings like a fish to water. He listens attentively to everything Fugaku has to say, observes his every move with big round eyes and does not throw tantrums when Fugaku criticizes his form. And he does that. A lot.

 

… there might be some frustration from his end.

 

From Shisui's end, on the other hand, there's nothing but absolute concentration and a strive to learn everything that's being passed down to him.

 

Did that crazy bastard sign a contract with his son too?

 

Fugaku watches the child go through the motions of the kata with crossed arms and makes sure to not react to the small presence he feels in the shed a few meters away. It takes him a moment to pinpoint who it is and what comes to mind is not a name but a face. And goggles. Ah, the cat boy. Observing them while hiding in the lake shed.

 

Maybe he should do something about him but hmm, one brat is enough. So Fugaku does as if he doesn't notice the third party.

 

Shisui finishes the last moves of the kata with a sharp cry.

 

"Good." Fugaku says.

 

And Shisui smiles. It's a shy quirk of his lips but his back straightens and the corners of his eyes squint and Fugaku can tell it's genuine.

 

Hn.

 

6. It's a cool spring night and two Uchiha boys are huddling together on a muton, a few months in their friendship. They're facing each other on their sides, only their black curls and noses peeking above the thin blanket.

 

"Obito-nii?" Shisui whispers, breaking the silence of the night.

 

"Hm?"

 

"When did you get the Sharingan?"

 

"...You won't believe it."

 

Shisui frowns, "Why wouldn't I?"

 

"Nobody ever does." A fake laugh. "Can't blame them. It's a stupid way to get the Sharingan."

 

"I would." Shisui says, "I believe you, Nii-chan."

 

"Bah, you can't say that, Shi-kun," Obito complains, neck warm, "People lie, ya know!"

 

Shisui waits expectantly. He does that a lot. Waiting, silent as the grave. Obito would've found it creepy if it wasn't for the fact that there always seemed to be an edge of hesitancy, of curiosity and careful hope. Obito knows all about those.

 

He finally says, "I saved a cat."

 

"Really?" And Shisui doesn't sound disbelieving, just curious so Obito explains, "Well, cats. Kitties. They were still babies, ya know? I met the mom on my way to the Academy, a tabby cat. At first she was really wary of me. Kept hissing at me. I still have some scratches left from her!" 

 

Obito grabs Shisui's hand from under the blankets and brings it to his face, right under his eye. He feels the faint thin lines on the thin skin. "She eventually warmed up to me. Guess she didn't mind me feeding her? Then she had a litter."

 

Obito shifts on his back but Shisui keeps stroking the scars on his face. He has to shuffle closer to lighten the strain on his shoulder. Obito doesn't mind and continues, "One day when I was on my way back from the Academy, I found a drunk guy beating the mom up."

 

Shisui stiffens, "That's awful."

 

Obito's voice holds an edge, "He was awful. I didn't think. I just rushed in and threw myself at him. Turns out he was a Chunin. He beat me up good. I was lucky though, the Police swooped in." His voice becomes cheerful. "But hey, I got cool eyes and he got a demotion. Win-win!"

 

"I want to see them." Shisui whispers.

 

Obito's eyes, or the cats? "It's been years. The shelter took them away." He shrugs. 

 

He doesn't tell him that the mother cat died, or that one of the kitties lost an eye. 

 

"It's a nice story. You should tell it more often." It's the honesty that floors him. Obito can hear it in his voice, see it in the dark eyes glinting in the light of the moon falling through the window. 

 

It's quiet between them for a long while. A cloud passes over the moon, throwing the room in complete darkness.

 

Then, Obito asks, "How'd you get yours?"

 

Shisui's answer is barely a whisper, "I saw Kaa-san die."

 

Obito doesn't know what to say to that. Obito knows loneliness. He knows how it feels to not grow up with a mother's love, a father's pride. He knows how difficult it is to learn to take care of yourself because nobody has time for the orphan. He's learned to love himself because he knew nobody would do it for him. 

 

In matters of family, Obito knows nothing because nothing is all he's ever had.

 

And he wonders what's worse, having something and losing it, or never having it in the first place? It doesn't matter. In the end, both leave empty hands behind. Both hurt worse than cuts from kunai.

 

Obito opens his mouth, "Shisui?"

 

Shisui doesn't answer, sound asleep. Obito gently grabs the small pudgy hand that'd fallen on his neck and squeezes it.

 

"Good night, Shi-kun."