Chương 19: The Uchiha

Dawn hadn't fully broken yet. The little courtyard was empty save for an old tree, its gnarled branches still dark against the lightening sky. A few fallen leaves lay scattered across the asphalt, going nowhere. Shin sat alone on the wooden engawa, eyes closed, hands resting open on his thighs. He wore a black yukata, the sleeves pooled at his sides. He hadn't moved in a long time. He did this every morning. Had, for years. A bamboo sword lay beside him.

He didn't own a real blade — and he'd never given anyone reason to think he knew how to use one. That was a problem without a clean solution. Skills had to come from somewhere. A teacher, a family tradition, something. No teacher wasn't an answer he could give out loud. So he practiced ninjutsu. He practiced shuriken. And in the privacy of his own courtyard, before the village woke up, he ran through the forms with bamboo. The sun crept past the horizon. Light spread, slow and thin, across the asphalt.

"—hh." He exhaled. Long and quiet. His eyes opened. He picked up the bamboo sword, rose from the engawa, and went back inside. When he came out again his hands were empty. He crossed the courtyard toward the gate. Creak. He pushed it open — and stopped. Someone was already there.

"Auntie?" Tsume Inuzuka stood with her arms crossed, looking down at him. She didn't answer. She just watched him, the way she watched things she'd already made up her mind about.

"Is something...?" Shin began carefully.

"Is there something you needed?" Her eyes dropped to his black yukata, then came back up.

"Memorial Stone?" she asked. A beat.

"... Yes." He paused.

"Today's my parents' death anniversary."

"Go later," she said, and stepped past him into the courtyard without waiting for an invitation. He followed her in. She crossed to the main room, settled onto the couch. Shin stood to one side and waited. He knew she had something to say. The silence stretched a moment.

"You train hard," she said finally.

"There's not much else to do."" Hm." Her eyes narrowed.

"Your shuriken scores are the highest in your year. Tied for first?" Another pause.

"I hear there's an Uchiha kid in your class. Sasuke Uchiha." She let that sit.

"And you're keeping pace with him?"

"... Tied," Shin said.

"Not ahead. Tied."

"Still impressive." She tilted her head slightly.

"Someone teaching you?" Shin kept his expression level. The question landed the way she'd meant it to — clean, with no room to slip around it. His first instinct was to say no. His second instinct, slower, reminded him that she would know. What he was actually afraid of: if the connection to Shisui came out, it would cause problems for Shisui. Secrets passed outside the clan weren't something any family tolerated quietly.

And there was the other thing — she'd warned him, once, not to involve himself with the Uchiha." No?" Tsume said, reading his silence.

"How about this, then." She held his gaze.

"Do you know someone named Shisui Uchiha?"

"..."

"... Yes."

"Oh?" Her brow lifted.

"And how did that happen?"

"Two months ago. I was training, and—"" Two months." Her voice sharpened. Not a shout. But the word came out like something set down very hard.

"You've known him for two months and said nothing?"

"... I didn't think it was necessary to tell you."

"Shin." He didn't answer.

"I'm your guardian." Her voice was flat.

"I'm telling you now: no more contact with him." Silence.

"... Why?" he asked, after a moment.

"No reason."

"There has to be a reason."

"There doesn't."

"..." She watched him sit in that silence — very still, very quiet, the way he always was. She remembered, suddenly, that he was usually well-behaved. That this version of him — the one that pushed back — was rare. Something in her shifted.

"... For now," she said, quieter.

"Stay away from him for now. That's all." For now. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. He turned the phrase over. There was a limit to it, then. He didn't know where that limit was, but it was there.

"Do you understand?" she asked. He hesitated. Then nodded.

"Good." She stood.

"This period — don't let me find out you've had contact with any of the Uchiha."

"..." He walked her to the gate. After she left, he stood in the empty courtyard for a while. Something's going to happen to the Uchiha. The things he already knew, strung together, still didn't resolve into anything clear. He exhaled. He'd stop going to the forest to train. For now. Shisui probably wouldn't be angry about it. Probably. He shook his head, a thin, rueful line at the corner of his mouth, and walked out into the morning. He still had somewhere to be. The room had no windows.

Four old people sat around a low table. One of them knelt on a single knee, facing them.

"Thirteen years old," said the man with the pipe, white-haired and white-bearded, smoke drifting from between his teeth.

"Youngest ANBU squad captain on record, I believe."

"Quite an achievement," Homura Mitokado agreed.

"Even in peacetime."

"The last one to reach this rank so young was Kakashi," Koharu Utatane said.

"Kakashi..." Hiruzen tapped the pipe lightly against the table edge, knocking a bit of ash free.

"Kakashi..."

"When I first joined ANBU," Itachi said quietly, "Kakashi-senpai looked out for me."

"I've always admired him."

"Itachi." Hiruzen set the pipe down.

"The village has never shortchanged anyone who served it."

"Remember that."

"... Yes, Lord Hokage." A nod. No more words.

"That will be all," Itachi said. His form disappeared. The room was left to the four of them.......

"The situation with the Uchiha is settled," Koharu said.

"Arrangements can be made. It can be handled."" Handled." Hiruzen picked up his pipe and sighed through it.

"There's no clean handling here. Whatever happens to the Uchiha — it won't be good for Konoha."

"This whole thing should never have started."

"But it did," Homura said.

"Saying that now changes nothing. We work with what's in front of us."

"And with Itachi in place, we have full visibility into the clan's movements."

"... Homura." Hiruzen sounded tired.

"Fugaku Uchiha almost certainly knew from the beginning that Itachi was reporting to us."

"Itachi knows this too." Homura's expression shifted.

"Then — has Itachi been lying to us?"

"No. He's been telling the truth."

"Then Fugaku is deliberately letting us track the clan's movements?" Koharu said.

"What does he think he has?" Hiruzen was quiet for a long moment.

"... Shisui Uchiha?" Homura ventured, uncertain.

"Impossible." Danzo's voice came from the side. He hadn't spoken until now. His right arm hung in a bandaged sling; bandages wrapped around his right eye as well.

"Shisui would act for the clan's sake. But he would never stand with Fugaku."

"You're that certain?" Homura asked.

"I know him better than you do."

"Then what is Fugaku counting on?" Koharu said.

"Could the Uchiha have a second Mangekyō?"

"Mangekyō doesn't awaken that easily," Danzo said. The corner of his mouth pulled into something cold.

"But Shisui Uchiha is, without question, an unstable variable." He let his left eye close, slowly. The Yamanaka Flower Shop.

"Ino, could you watch the shop for a bit? I need to run an errand."

"Ino?" Ino's mother came out of the back room, dressed and made up, bag in hand. She was clearly on her way out.

"Ino, I—" She stopped. Behind the counter, Ino was standing with one elbow propped on the glass, chin resting in her hand, idly turning one of the stems in the display vase. She hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Ino, you..." Her mother blinked. Ino glanced over, then back at the flowers.

"I know," she said.

"Go ahead." Her mother paused — then laughed.

"Since when do you offer? You never want to watch the shop."

"Does it matter if I want to?" Ino gave her a look, then turned back toward the counter and waved a hand.

"Just go. Come back quickly."

"This child..." Her mother shook her head, still smiling.

"I'm off, then." The door swung shut. The flower shop went quiet — just Ino, and the flowers blooming in every direction. She stood there for a moment, not really looking at anything. The clock on the wall ticked. He'll come today. She glanced at the empty doorway. On the edge of the counter, set a little apart from everything else, sat a bundle of white carnations, wrapped carefully in pale paper. She'd put it together this morning, before the shop opened.

The first time she'd met Shin, she'd thought he was the quiet kind — withdrawn, closed-off. Looking back, that felt a little unfair. That day had been that kind of day. Of course he'd been quiet. She was still thinking about nothing in particular when a shadow crossed the doorway.

"Welcome to Yamanaka Flower—" She recognized him before the sentence finished. Black yukata. Ink-dark hair loose over his shoulders instead of tied back. His face was the same as always — pale, fine-featured — but the careful stillness in it today was different. Less ordinary. More like something settled and old.

"—Shop," she finished, and she was already smiling before she'd decided to.

"You came."

"... Ino?" Shin looked up. Something flickered across his face — a faint surprise.

"Your hair—""You cut it short?" The long blonde hair was gone. In its place: clean, chin-length, a small blue clip holding the side swept back. The way it had looked the very first time he'd seen her.

"Mm?" Ino reached up and tucked the ends behind her ear, unbothered.

"I got tired of long hair. Wanted a change."

"Just had it done yesterday, actually. It's not bad, right?"

"... It looks good," Shin said." Does it." She smiled, stepped out from behind the counter, picked up the carnations, and crossed to him.

"Here."

"..." He looked at the bundle in her hands. Something moved behind his eyes.

"How did you know what day it was?" She placed the carnations in his hands.

"Every year since the first time you walked in," she said.

"You come on the same day. You just never notice that I notice."

"... I see." He looked down at the white flowers, precisely wrapped, stems even.

"Thank you." The corner of her mouth curved, very slightly.

"Go on," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. The smile was the easy one, the one he knew.

"... Yeah." His eyes stayed on her face for a moment. The smile didn't waver.

"See you."

"See you," she said, raising one hand in a small wave. Outside, he stood on the corner with the carnations and looked back at the shop once. The street wasn't especially crowded here — a side turn off the main road, quiet in the morning light. He turned away and walked. He crossed Konoha slowly, following the east road until the buildings thinned and the trees took over. The path through this part of the forest was maintained — the dirt packed smooth, swept clean, only a few fresh leaves from last night.

The trees on either side were planted in rows, their canopies arching overhead and leaving only thin strips of sky. The path ended at a wide diamond-shaped stone. Someone was already there. Shin recognized the figure before he got close enough to see his face. Silver hair, a narrow frame, hands shoved in his pockets. He'd seen him before, on the street once or twice. Every year, this time. Same person. Shin came to stand beside him.

The man was staring at the stone, blank — or blank-masked, the lower half of his face covered as always. At the base of the stone, resting on the ledge, was a bundle of white chrysanthemums. Shin set the carnations down beside them, pressed his palms together, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the silver-haired man was gone. No word. No glance. He'd simply left. Shin looked at the chrysanthemums. He comes every year. Whoever he's mourning — he carries it like something that doesn't have words anymore.

The Memorial Stone was dense with names — characters packed tight across the dark surface. The first time he'd come, it had taken a long time to find them. Tsukasa Takami. Yuki Takami. Carved next to them, only a little apart: Fourth Hokage — Minato Namikaze. Good company. Beyond the stone, deeper into the trees, was the field of markers — the place where Konoha's honored dead were buried. His parents were in there somewhere. He closed his eyes again....... He didn't know how long he stood there.

When he opened his eyes, there was someone beside him. A broad-faced man in a jonin flak jacket, the clan crest on his shoulder — a folded fan, unmistakable. He'd appeared without a sound.

"Fugaku-san?" Shin said, before he could stop himself. The man from the Inuzuka house. Fugaku Uchiha. Clan head. Fugaku didn't seem to register his voice. His gaze moved slowly across the names carved into the stone, and stopped.

"Visiting your parents?" he said, after a while.

"... Yes." Silence.

"Shin," Fugaku said.

"Would you be willing to talk with me for a bit?"