A Bond is Reflection
Panting softly, you pushed your dirtied hands into the grass below and pushed yourself up once more, your eyes clenching tight as another foot kicked your bruised side. You fell once more as giggles bursted from the children still standing around in a loose half circle, their eyes full of scorn and mischief. You bit back another groan of pain, your small body crumpling back into the grass before you use the rest of your strength to curl up on your side, simply wishing the ground would swallow you up whole. This always happened when he wasn’t there to keep the other children at bay, his silent aura intimidating to the other kids and a single look able to keep you safe. But when Shisui isn’t there, the bullying is harsher, more violent.
Because you are different, not like the rest of the Uchiha clan members, down the blood coursing in your veins. Your mother may have come from the Uchiha clan but the man she created a child with had been a traveling merchant from the land of water and they had fallen in love, despite the tides of war raging. Back then, love between people of differing clans was ridiculed and expressly forbidden. The Uchiha refused to let your mother leave with the man she loved, instead shackling her to the village in a loveless marriage. Despite wishing to snub out your life, they allowed you to be born because they still wanted to expand the clan; When that husband met his end during a mission, she gave birth to you, a girl with (e/c) eyes, different from the eyes of the other Uchiha children.
Back then, being different was wrong and your (e/c) eyes marked you as someone to be judged by the children and their parents, by the elders of the Uchiha clan, by the rest of the village hidden in the leaf. No one had any hope in you and you spent your days clinging to your mother or hiding when you could because being invisible felt better than being beaten.
“Stop.” Your frame deflated at the sound of his voice again and you keep your eyes closed, afraid that the other children would ignore the phrase and continue to beat you. But after a moment, one of the girls scoffs and huffs with her little group and you hear the pattering of feet traveling through grass, the noise growing softer and softer the further they departed. Only when it grows silent do you open your eyes to meet an obsidian gaze. Shisui Uchiha’s eyes are like everyone else's, an inky black that sucks you into the dark depths. When you first met, his intense gaze scared you and you used to shake uncontrollably in his presence, but over time, you began to see something else hidden in his stare: Kindness. Understanding. A safe patch of sunlight in an overgrown forest.
“I’m sorry I was late,” In your youth, his voice had been quiet and reserved and you always thought it sounded as if he were unsure of himself and how to present himself to you without you wanting to run away. You manage a smile despite the bruise against your cheek, blades of grass tickling away at the aching skin.
"You didn't have to come." Thank you for protecting me. Your words contradict your inner thoughts but Shisui always saw through it.
"Yes, I did. I said I would." You remember the small crickle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled ever so slightly. The sight alone made you feel as if you’d finally come up from air after being underwater for hours. Shisui’s small hands are careful in the way he handled your aching frame, his grasp firm as he pulled you up from the grass to lean against him. Even as children, he towered over you and it was one of the reasons the other children withdrew whenever he appeared at your side, a silent protector.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell, (y/n)? The way they treat you is unfair… I always worry when I leave you alone.”
“I-It’s fine. Don’t tell her,” Your voice quivered, and Shisui responds by squeezing you closer. Clouds have rolled in once more, blotting out the suns rays with each passing second, “She always looks tired.” She always looks tired when she looks at me. She looks hurt when she sees my bruises. I’m always hurting her . Shisui, always perceptive to your emotions back then, stood and helped you up, frowning when you winced from contact against your side.
“When I get bigger, I’ll protect you from everything. Okay?” You naively believe him because back then, believing Shisui Uchiha was easier than breathing; he always kept true to his word and found you when you were hurting and alone. Even when you told him to go away, he would quietly sit beside you or bring wrapping for your bruises.
You smiled through your pain, something you did often. “Okay.”
Even as children, Shisui had convictions and a drive unlike anyone else your clan had seen in decades. While in the blossom of your youth, being thrust into the academy is terrifying. The children are still cruel and teachers turn a blind eye to your hair being tugged back harshly or the time a classmate used a fireball to sing your dress, nearly burning you in the process. You felt guilty when you returned home that day to see the horrified look on your mother's gaunt face. She'd done her best to carve out a life for you here but even as a child, you felt that your existence weighed heavily on her as a reminder of her past. Your eyes reflect the same pool as your father, your nose the same shape, not a shred of black in your (h/c) hair. You never realized how difficult it was for your mother then but you’d always felt that pressure heavily on your shoulders.
Your flame is small, weak. The instructors grow irritated with your lack of growth even when you are clawing your way through each passing day with all your might. Each day is another painful reminder that you'll never be the same as them, as him; watching Shisui grow more and more advanced as you fall behind is just another reminder. He's amazing, you'd always known it since you spent days peering up at the sky to pass the time, but now everyone else knew it too. His fireball jutsu almost exploded the academy classroom, his sharingan advancing quicker than the others in class. His strength and prowess are unmatched among the other students and even some of the instructors are unwilling to spar.
When the scent of war thickened, your class was set to graduate and Shisui was assigned to his 3-man team and an S-rank mission with no questions asked. No matter how much you trained, you could never hope to keep up, even if your small flame grew bigger and your jutsu expanded to water release (a skill your mother forbade you from showing because the village elders would be upset). You graduated the academy as a genin, but your instructors agreed that the life of a konouichi was one you would be foolish to partake in. You leave the academy feeling smaller than before, the whispers of war making anxiety bubble in your stomach. Shisui felt further and further away those days, a flash in the middle of the night, a ghost when the sun shone brightly.
The worry whittled away at you as full-scale war broke out and the village was on high alert. In those days, all you could do was pray to some far-off God that Shisui and the others would survive and return home, even those who wronged you in the past and shoved you into the mud. War was a horrifying event that tore families apart all around you. It felt suffocating to hear another mother scream over the loss of her only child, and fathers burying their sons in a fresh family plot. Your mother would return late every evening from working at the hospital as a medical-nin, tending to poor souls who returned broken. As your graduating class came back fewer and fewer from the battlefield, you forced back the pain in your chest to learn from your mother. To adapt. Even if you were young, you were made to shed that childlike wonder in exchange for hardened skin or else you would be eaten up from the inside out.
The hospital is a haunting spectacle of bleeding shinobi and families who are on the verge of breaking down, and after returning home, you often dreamt of Shisui out on the battlefield drenched in blood.
On one of those occasions, you awake from your nightmare with a start, your chest aching as a blazing pain shot across your wrist. You push the chakra to your index finger and light a small flame with your other hand, squinting in the limited light. Flakes of skin are hanging off of a freshly inked stain on your skin. Shisui Uchiha. A design reminding you of a spinning pinwheel etched into your skin beside his name and the chakra at your fingertip frayed, causing the flame to go out.
The tattoo is something you weren’t expecting to come and at your young age, you don’t understand what it means. The academy taught its students how to be shinobi, how to shed blood in the name of the village, for the sake of your clan; there had never been discussion over the Bond, over the tattoo that would one day mar your skin with the name of someone special, important. The Uchiha rarely paid much attention to what a Soul Bond represented and insisted on arranging a proper match among their people whether the participant was willing or not. And in times of war, who would dare think of such a soft emotion as love? Longing?
You miss Shisui terribly and long for those days in the sun where you could see his stoic expression clearly. In your dreams, there’s always a kunai stabbed into a portion of his body, sometimes his neck, sometimes his heart; your fresh tattoo stung and ached as the fear of hearing of his passing gripped you tightly. Would they return his body to the village one day? Would you never see him again? You began wrapping your tattooed wrist tightly with an instinct telling you to keep it hidden, even from your mother. It was a sixth sense, something you could neither touch nor taste, hear or smell, but felt deep in your core. Protecting your mark felt like protecting your memories of Shisui and you felt that as long as the mark went unharmed, he would come back from war.
When the Third Shinobi World War came to an end, the hospital saw an influx of injured shinobi from the various battlegrounds, some in critical condition and others arriving moments too late. You finally stopped crying at the sight of death by then, but the overwhelming sense of loss still lingered. As more and more Uchiha shinobi returned, you had still received no word about Shisui’s fate. Your mark still hurts day after day and sometimes with a burn that made you want to slice the limb off at the wrist. Still, the hope and longing persisted. Still, there is an undeniable thread tethering you to him.
After another day spent administering aid at the hospital with your cleansing water technique (an ability the village elders grudgingly accepted), you return to your small home alone. Your mother always stayed longer, her frame quickly moving back and forth between patients, the determination smoldering in her red eyes as she fought to save as many souls as possible. Even when the village thought nothing of her wants, and her needs, she vowed to save as many as she could. The sun hung low, indicating a cool evening was soon to begin. You slid open the entrance to your darkened home and came to a haltering stop. Even in the limited light of the sinking sun, you could make out a frame standing by your futon.
Before you could blink, the figure shifted across the space to stand before you, a pair of petrified red eyes staring down at you. Blood dripped from his eye sockets onto his pale, gaunt cheeks. There is no more soft boyishness to his appearance, his aura frightening. Shockwaves emanate from your tattoo and even though he looks different, Shisui Uchiha is alive. The tears brimming in your eyes distort his face but you don’t care. Before he can disappear again, you throw your arms around him tightly, cruising your small frame to his bigger one. He’d grown more in your time apart, his thicker frame standing frigid as you clutched onto him. You can’t remember when you started sobbing, the pain in your tattoo cooling the moment Shisui is in your arms.
It takes Shisui a long while to regain his sense of self, of reason, and he blinks past the ripping pain in his eyes to take in his surroundings. All he could remember was the mission, the spike of bitter rage and jealousy at his best friend that made his limbs tense up when it mattered most. That bitterness swallowed him whole for a mere moment and then guilt and disgust riddled his body as he watched his best friend die before his very eyes. Everything grew dark then as he replayed those last moments again and again, torturing himself with the knowledge that he was a murderer. The pain in his eyes expanded them and he felt the darkness swallow him up whole.
It should have been me. The pains of regret tore him up inside as he departed the mission, his fingers drenched in his friend's blood every time he looked at his hands. He rubbed his skin raw in the river trying to wash it away but all he could see was blood, so much blood. I killed him. Me. I did this.
How do I return home? Who will want me now? I’m a murderer. I could’ve- I should’ve- But he was dead now. Shisui didn’t know how he reached this place; his feet carried him when his mind was grief-stricken and in disarray, his thoughts distorting into self-hated for what he had done. Out of the battlefield, he returned home, his eyes still red, still stinging as that last moment repeated itself. When Shisui reached Konoha, his feet carried him over familiar soil and patches of grass past his own home where his parents waited with baited breaths. He stepped through the patch of grass he shared with her countless times, where he used to count her eyelashes when she wasn’t paying attention or tending to her wounds. The trail to her home is as familiar as the act of breathing and in his state, the only thing he wants is to be in her presence.
Will she see me? Will (y/n) be here? By nightfall, he’d wandered inside, unable to fully comprehend his surroundings. He’s still stuck in the tides of war, the blood spilled in his memories still vivid through his mangekyo sharingan. Even when she arrives, her frame still so small, her (h/c) hair now pressing against her back, he can’t see her clearly. His frame remained stiff in her grasp but when she began to cry- I always despised them for making you cry. I always did my best to keep you smiling. Why are you crying now? Shisui’s eyes reverted from their red state back to cool soot, his arms shooting up to crush her against his chest. He’s no longer standing above his friend as they lie on the ground, dead before his very eyes. He’s standing back in Konoha, away from any opponent shinobi, the girl he dreamt of every night pressed firmly to him. She was crying and after another moment of clarity, Shisui realized his eyes were blurry from tears as well.
“You’re alive.” She cried into his chest, her shoulders shaking. He’d never taken her tears well and all Shisui could do was rub at her back gently, so many words jumbling together on his tongue. He wanted to tell her what happened, the truth, but the dark truth of his actions scared him.
“I told you I would come back.” It’s the only thing he can manage; watching her cry for him makes Shisui’s heartbreak and remold all at the same time. He couldn’t tell her- no, he wouldn’t. He would be selfish one more time for her sake. Watching her expression change when she looked at him, watching the shock and horror as she learned of that last mission- it would break her heart… and his. As he held her, he vowed he would never again fall victim to his own hatred and jealousy again. His eyes still smarted from his mangekyo sharingan, another reminder of what he had done. He would spend the rest of his life repenting.
They were just children thrown to the wolves of war.
[ time skip ]
Shisui liked to stare at her while she cooked, his Bond tattoo throbbing insistently with the want to be close to her. She always grew bashful when he decided to stick close, unable to meet his gaze when he looked at her. He’d seen her own tattoo in his small, smooth line strokes prettily stuck to her wrist, and she’d seen him by accident when she walked into his room as he tugged on a shirt, for once not quick enough to hide it. It had been there for a long time, longer than he was willing to admit, but he’d had his reasons for hiding that they were Bonded.
Shisui didn’t want (y/n) to be bound to someone tainted like him, someone darkened by the tides of war. He’d planned on merely returning as a protector for her once again even if she no longer needed saving from the neighborhood bullies. His feelings for her ran deep, past something akin to a mere crush. He cared for her with his whole being the same way he always had and thought that her happiness meant being with someone without blood on their hands.
Thoughts of her plagued him during his time in the Third Shinobi World War; he worried for her safety and wellbeing. He worried that if too many of them died then they would simply pluck her up and place her on a battlefield. All Shisui wanted was peace for the entire village, and for her to always have that smile on her lips. The tattoo appeared on his flesh in her beautiful, thin strokes after a won battle against a warring shinobi squad. Blood dripped from his hands then too and splattered all over his torn and singed clothing from the enemy. Adrenaline pumped strongly in his veins as his collarbone flared up with pain. That night, as he washed blood away from his bruised skin in a river, he saw it in the light of the moon. (y/f/n) (y/l/n). Shisui cried then too, a rarity before but now all he ever seemed to do was shed tears over lost brethren, over war, over tethering himself to her even more.
Don’t get up. Leave her be. She’ll get upset if I interrupt again. He silently reprimanded himself and his greedy thoughts as the soothing scent of her cooking wafted in the air. It was only in these moments could he forget the choices that set him on a darkening path ahead. Watching her back, her hair shorter now, made him forget his meeting with Hiruzen Sarutobi where he disclosed the Uchiha Clans' plan to revolt. Here in this familiar place, he didn’t have to remember tailing his best friend, Itachi, with the knowledge that he would be the one forced to stop him in the event that an inner conflict broke out that would put the entire village dynamic at risk. So many needless lives would be risked simply for the Uchiha’s satisfaction; Shisui couldn’t stand it. It tore him in two to have to hide away his true intentions from his best friend and the Uchiha Clan but all he wanted was peace-
“You’ve gotten better, (y/n), it smells really good.” The soft cadence of his voice shot a familiar zing up your spine and you nearly drop the ladle in hand, hardening your grip and keeping your tone light. You’re afraid that if he sees your face, it’ll give you away. Ever since parting, you’d been thinking of Shisui more and more, of the not-so-fond memories salvaged by him coming to your rescue, of how he grew from that quiet, compassionate child to a composed teen who towered over you even more than before. His bloodshot eyes remind you of safely kept rubies, the rare sound of his laughter making your chest squeeze unbearably tight.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on me like this, Shisui, you promised!” He spoke from across the room but you could now feel his presence just a few inches behind you, his tall frame was a comforting presence, but it also boosted your anxiety. Your tattoo shuddered under its bandage as you pressed the ladle into the stew, scooping up some and turning to glance at Shisui, “Now try this for me, test subject.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” There’s that boyish grin again, the one that makes your stomach feel like it’s tumbling outside of your body, and Shisui lowered his head to take a sip of the broth. His cool gaze met your own as he licked his lips and gave a small smile.
“It’s delicious. I’m even more hungry than I was before.” His praise made your heart pinch and you quickly turned away from him to hide your face, but he knows. He always knows. In the same way he knows he’s loved you every minute of every day, he knows that you can feel it too between you. Even if you never discussed it outwardly, the way you two gravitated to each other was like the cycles of the sun, constant, absolute. Shisui returned to his place at the table as you filled a bowl with the stew you’d worked hard on and another bowl filled to the brim with sweet, sticky, rice.
Having dinner with Shisui when he is free from missions is the highlight of your days after your mother passed. She’d grown sicker after the war, frailer, and couldn’t eat. You watched her waste away while Shisui held your hand with a quiet promise that you would never be alone. He talked you through your sharingan awakening when your mother died, the grief written in the planes of his face heartbreaking.
True to his word, he became a constant fixture for you whenever possible and even when he couldn’t be there in the flesh, he left notes that would last the theorized duration of his missions. His notes were sweet in their own way and voiced emotions he had a hard time expressing in person. You saved each note and kept them away in a box your mother crafted for you when you were little.
“When is your next mission,” You asked from across the table, your chopsticks poised to pluck up a clump of rice. Your stomach dropped when you saw the softness slip away from Shisui’s face. He didn’t talk about his missions with you, drawing a line you knew you shouldn’t cross. Was it wrong to tell you? Was it to protect you? You didn’t know the reason and usually you would let it go, but the throbbing in your wrist is telling you that Shisui is about to burst from within.
“Tell me, Shisui. Please, tell me,” You call softly, your voice quiet. Shisui stared at you with an unreadable expression before his lips parted.
“You and this place are all I ever wanted. Did I ever tell you that, (y/n)? Sometimes, I would dream of myself falling from a cliff into the river and you would be there with a boat to save me. You and your light always guided me from the darkest parts of myself. But I don’t think you can save me this time, (y/n). And I don’t think you should.”
He didn’t answer the question. You can’t taste the food in your mouth. Swallowing it down, you glance down at the bandage around your wrist. It was unspoken, but you both knew that you were in love. He was in love. He would stay here with you- Shisui could be cryptic, and misleading, but you knew deep down that this felt like he was saying goodbye.
“Do you remember that day the kids bullied me in the forest? Pushed me down and kicked me and called me dirty before you came and made them stop? Do you remember how you told me that when you grew up, you would protect me from everything? You don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to shelter me, Shisui. I want to know- no, I need to know. Because we’re… because… I love you.” Words you’d never voiced before but they had swirled in the air between you for a long time now. You venture a peek in his direction, your eyes are glassy despite how hard you are fighting back the want to cry. Shisui has an expression you’ve never seen before. An intense blush ran across his cheeks and nose, up to the tips of his ears, and down his neck. He looked very, very cute, his eyes still firm as they stared back at you.
“I love you too, (y/n). I love you so much, and this village. Things are happening, bad things are going to happen. I want to tell you but I can’t. I can’t. After tomorrow, things will change... Will you still love me even if I can’t tell you?” You wonder how he could even ask such a question but his proclamation of love ignites a flame in the pit of your stomach. Your wrist is throbbing so painfully but it feels good.
“I’ll love you now, tomorrow, forever. I’d go with you anywhere.” His words make you cling to him in the middle of the night, afraid that if you let go, he’d disappear. But all Shisui does is clutch you close and inhale the scent of jasmine tea.
Shisui is gone in the morning, a single note left in his wake.
“Last night, you saved me from the tides again.
Close your eyes for a while.”
A single note.
Your Bond had been growing stronger and stronger on your end and you tapped into your connection for the first time. Sifting through our end of the bond, you find the strong tethers of love and friendship you’ve had with Shisui for years and press your chakra into any empty spaces, searching for a direction to be pulled in. Closing your eyes, you activate your sharingan, your figure moving before you understand where you’re running off to. Through the thick of the forest, you run, your eyes shifting to take in every ounce of the scenery. You sensed you were running into danger but if it was where Shinsui was, you didn’t care.
STOP! DONT COME! STOP! The sound of Shisui’s distressed voice rang loudly in your ear as if he were beside you. You falter in your steps, nearly falling over a protruding branch. You’d never been able to hear his voice so clearly through your Bond before and the pain filtering through from his side is insurmountable. It feels excruciatingly painful and you clutch at your wrist but begin to dash forward again. In this thick of the forest, you can no longer see your way back out. Don’t do this. Go back. He’ll hurt you. He’ll take your eyes. Don’t find me, (y/n). Don’t. Find the tide. His voice is a hurried strong of words that almost melt together but you can understand his thoughts. Find the tide.
I would dream of myself falling from a cliff into the river and you would be there with a boat to save me.
The nearest cliff. The nearest River- Naka River.
Your figure changed course as you ran through the forest, your Bond twisting in on itself as his voice rang in your ear clearly, growing louder and louder. I love you. I LOVE YOU. A flood of emotions breaks the dam separating your feelings from him and you are overwhelmed by the pain coursing through him. Something is happening, Shisui is hurt and you can do little else but run through the darkening forest on bare feet, twigs tearing at your black skirt and bodysuit. The foot of the Naka River ran shallow before quickly becoming a rushing tide, dangerous rocks pushing up from the river bed.
Hues of deep orange and pink littered the sky as the sun began to lower. The air is charged with danger, a sense of foreboding hanging over your head as you stood at the bottom of that cliff, a place you’d watched Itachi and Shisui spar many a time. A special space for them. And you don’t know how you know, but you just do. This is the right place to be at. You activate your sharingan and stare up at the cliff, your vision taking in two chakra signatures. Your bond tattoo tingles and aches and throbs with too many forms of pain for you to make sense of just one.
Before you think better of it, you find yourself stepping into the river, the water rising up to your hip before you know it. Using a water release, you negated the flow of water around your body instead of stepping atop the water itself, wanting to blend in with the tide. A hot spark shoots up your arm and you look up, your innards splintering at the body falling over the cliff. Your scream is covered by the rushing tides as you reach for Shisui, your arm snatching at his clothing to pull before his head crashes into a jagged rock. His weight pulled you under the water and you find it difficult to keep the flow of the tide steady while attempting to pull him above water.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Just move. Keep moving. Keep him up. You wrap one of your arms around Shisui’s torso and activate another water release completely suspending a section of the water. The roaring river continued to flow but it was as if your place in the water didn’t exist. You pull Shisui above water, horrified at your discovery.
His eyes. His beautiful eyes were missing, blood still pooling in the empty sockets. What have they done to you? Your thoughts escape across the Bond as you get a better grip on Shisui, pulling him along the river and further away from where he fell. A small, jutting-out section of the river bank allowed you to pull yourself out, your arms buckling as you pulled Shisui from the river.
“(y/n)... ” You shake your head, frantic and shivering from the cold as you try to stop your trembling hands. Focus. Focus. He still has chakra flowing through his body. I can do this. You push your hands together and concentrate all of your chakra to the palms of your hands, creating a healing orb of pure chakra. Slowly, you push your hands against Shisui’s chest, your hands gaining intel on the internal damage done to his organs and the poisonous gas trapped in the walls of his lungs.
“Did you think I’d keep my eyes closed?” You speak through your tears, keeping your sharingan active to watch the flow of your chakra pumping through his body.
“Let me die here, (y/n). I’ll never be able to see you again… not in the way I wish to every day. Danzo won’t rest if I’m still alive…” Danzo? The name itched a memory in the back of your thoughts but not enough for you to know. Did Danzo do this to Shisui of the body-flicker technique? Someone the village boasted about? One of the strongest shinobi to ever life?
“I can’t do that, Shisui! I-I can’t. I’ll make sure Danzo c-can’t find us. Not where we’re going.” Good. It’s working. It would not be enough chakra to fully heal Shisui, but you could see your chakra repairing the brunt of the damage done to him. It made your heart clench.
“You shouldn’t…. Stay….” You can both see and sense when he fainted, his chest still rising and falling as labored breaths escaped his mouth. It was good that he passed out because Shisui would’ve rejected your next proposition. He would reject it so vehemently, so strongly but even then, you would have persisted. Keeping one hand against his chest to continue to push chakra throughout his body, you reach the other up to your face, your other hand full of a different concentration of chakra that ran burning hot. It would cauterize the wound after.
Don’t think. Just do it. Before you could change your mind, your fingers ramped into your eye socket, plucking your eye free; a wave of concentrated pain shot through you but you force your limbs to move through the shock, transplanting your (e/c) into one of Shisui’s empty sockets. You make sure the attachment is completed before touching your face again, shooting healing chakra into your now empty socket. Your single eye reverts out of sharingan from your chakra usage and when you feel it’s safe for Shisui to no longer need your healing chakra, you stop your hands. The only thing left to do would be to get away from the river bank.
Mustering up the rest of your strength, you wrap your arms around Shisui and pull him up, curling an arm around his midsection and beginning to carry/drag him away from the river bank. The only cover is a small alcove hidden away by a thicket of branches and overgrown trees. You settle him into the alcove before setting up a chakra sensor at every corner of the alcove. If someone came too close, you would know. You may not have become the amazing kunoichi you once dreamed of but you had a few tricks up your sleeve. War had changed you too, into someone who trained harder, someone who wanted to fight in order to ensure no one else ever had to.
With so much chakra usage, you can feel yourself fading quickly but you try to fight the tide of exhaustion thrumming through you.
It’s the same dream again… the cliff rose taller and taller above the raging waters as Shisui willingly jumped to his death. Every time, (y/n) was there to save him with a small, blue boat. She always rescued him with a smile on her face and love in her eyes. Eyes. I’ll never be able to see her again. It’s the first lucid thought Shisui had the moment he came too. Out of habit, his eye sockets shifted as if to open and a gasp caught in his throat when his left eye opened and saw a blurry rendition of her face sleeping beside him. Despite her best efforts, a trickle of blood ran from her empty eye socket, a testament to what she had done for him.
She gave me sight. She saved my life. Shisui took survey of what was around him, of the alcove and her chakra sensors scattered around. She’d come to save him again like in his dreams. Blinking again, his vision grew clearer. Night had fallen but it would still be a few hours until it was truly pitch black... They would move then under the cover of the night to a place far away. His Bond beats to the tune of his heart as he drew his gaze back to her sleeping face. She’d forsaken the village for his sake, abandoned the home she held with her mother for him, someone like him.
Reaching out, he gently touched her cheek, cupping it when he realized how cold it was. She opened her eye instantly and pressed her face into his touch, the dazed look on her face new.
“When tomorrow comes,” She whispered in the dark, “I’ll still love you, Shisuiui. Will you love me? Even though I’m not as pretty as before?” She still had the energy to smile small, her eye dazzling. She was still beautiful to him, still so bright and dazzling even here in the dark.
“I planned to die loving you, remembering your face until the end. You’ll always be beautiful to me, (y/n). I’m going to remind you every day so be prepared.” She smiled a true smile then, her eye watering as she reached for him. Their clothes are still damp as they pressed together in a tight embrace, Shisuiui pressing light kisses to her hair. Could he leave it all behind for a chance to simply exist by her side? Could he burden Itachi with a dark path before him when he gifted him the the mangekyo sharingan and his remaining eye? It was true that despite the loss of his original eyes, Danzo would not rest if he knew Shisui had lived. That monster would track him ruthlessly, endlessly, for his body, for his brain. Shisui could no longer wield his original mangekyo sharingan, he could no longer be the shinobi the clan wanted him to be. He would be a burden, and fail once more in trying to stop the coup. He knew it and had Itachi known he lived; he would agree.
Shisui had been right about her eyes, they were magical. To see from her gaze felt surreal. When she drew away from their embrace, she stared at him, words in her eyes that whispered across their bond. His tattoo burns.
Kiss me?
He’d always held himself back, even when they both knew that there was no one else he wanted to hold. He’d been afraid of hurting her one way or another whether with his eyes or with his inevitable death as a shinobi. He wanted to keep her at arm's length for her sake even if it hurt to do so. But now? Her lips taste of fresh water with a trace of saltiness to them from her tears. The kiss is small, his mouth still shy against her own, but it ignites a fire Shisui wants to protect. He kisses her again, and again, taking his time to learn the planes of her mouth and how her cheeks feel in his palms. Another kiss. Another. Before the darkness descends enough for them to escape under its thoughtful cover. When they safely cleared the village, she grasped Shisui’s hand and they began to run, breathes held, feet silent with each step they took towards their future.
[time skip]
“Momma, momma, tell me the story again! Tell me how you guys got the same eyes!” Laughing softly to yourself, you peered down at your tot of a daughter, her head of thick, black locks reminding you of your husband. Shisui chucked from his chair, holding his arm out for you to pass along Haruka so you could rest. Your stomach was swollen again and it grew harder to do day-to-day tasks easily; at any moment, you could go into labor to bring your second child into the world. Where Haruka had been a fussy baby always kicking in your tummy, your second child was docile, only a slight bump here and there with no real kicks.
“Well, your momma saved your daddy. She loved him so much she wanted him to see. Right?” You gently rubbed at your belly as you peered at your husband and daughter together. She looked so much like him, an Uchiha, except for those eyes. Those eyes were the spitting image of your own. It would hide the Uchiha nature and you would be grateful for it.
“That’s right. Momma swam through a raging river to save daddy!” Haruka broke into a fit of giggles as she rested her head against Shisui’s chest and you are overwhelmed by the joy filling up your Bond every moment.
“And because of that, momma and daddy have the same eyes. And daddy protects momma from everything like he promised.”
They’d escaped to the Land of Mist and settled on one of the many islands. Every step of the way, he’d held her hand tight and never let go. He promised that they would find somewhere to carve out their own happiness and he made sure that it came true.
FIN