Burdens

Fugaku and Mikoto sat together on the wooden steps of the backyard, watching their two sons happily.

Three-year-old Sasuke was curled up on Itachi’s lap, small enough to fit. Itachi spoke softly to his younger sibling, and Sasuke, in return, snuggled into Itachi’s shoulder. His hand rested on the younger Uchiha’s head, fingers unknotting the tangles of black hair.

Sasuke grinned toothily at Itachi’s stories, and Itachi smiled back, a rare gesture nowadays.

Sasuke said something about his brother being the best in the world, his words filled with glee and pride at having Itachi as his brother. Itachi laughed, a little huff that just barely passed for an expression of joy. 

Mikoto had been scared of how Itachi would react to his little brother, especially because of how withdrawn he had been after Fugaku took him to see the battlefields.

For the next year, he either trained until his hands were bloodied or quietly studied in his room, not coming out for anything but dinner.

His mannerisms became reserved, and he seemed too old for someone so young. She hated how her child had been forced to bear the weight of watching so many people die at such a young age.

People commented about how mature he was, telling her that they wished their child was like that. Mikoto would force a laugh and deny it, not having the heart to tell them the truth, in fear of ruining Fugaku’s reputation.

…Did she value Fugaku’s reputation over her son?

The thought made her feel queasy inside, like someone stuck a knife in her gut and twisted it. She wanted to deny it, badly, but she couldn’t defend herself against the hard weight of the question.

If she ruined Fugaku’s reputation, she might as well ruin the clan’s reputation all together. And she would have no one left, not even her sons. Perhaps that thought made her feel worse.

She remembered Itachi coming back from that awful place, unharmed but shaken. She had fretted the entire time, muttering prayers that they would both come home safely. When Fugaku and Itachi returned, she had wrapped her arms around Itachi and checked him for injuries. He was unscathed. She expected him to cry or lash out, scream and shout, but he did none of that. He stayed silent and still, staring off into the air.

She wondered how he felt, seeing so many people dying.

Had he felt helpless?

Did he think it was his fault that they were dying?


After two hours of Fugaku trying to convince her that he was fine and just needed some time to rest, she considered calling a doctor. Finally, Itachi spoke.

“Why?” His voice was hoarse, but there was no sadness or anger in it. He was utterly devoid of anything human.

It was terrifying, seeing her child like that.
Before Mikoto could speak to comfort him, Fugaku jumped in, as if trying to catch a tail.

“That is what the world really is, Itachi.”

“I don’t understand. Why must you show me this?” Itachi stared at them as if he could still see the soulless and bloodied bodies scattered in the reflections of their eyes. “Those people…”

“We are Shinobi.” Fugaku reprimanded firmly, “This is a part of being one.”

Itachi’s eyes trailed off to the side, not disappointed or ashamed, just numb. He lapses into silence. 

Unable to do anything that day, she tried to distract herself by talking to Kushina. She knew she should’ve tried to speak to him, but she couldn’t bring anything to exit her mouth. 

She had yelled at Fugaku after she got her energy back.

The Uchiha were destined to become ninjas, yes, but taking a four year old to see bloodshed and the horrors of war was too far. She told him how Itachi could’ve gotten killed in his process of ‘showing him what the world really was’ and that the experience would haunt him forever.

Fugaku had apologized after much arguing, and swore he would never do the same to their next child. But, what had been done has been done, and Itachi has never been the same since.

She hated how soon she had forgiven him. It felt like she was betraying her son; a disgusting, clammy feeling that never ceases to haunt her.

Maybe if she was a better mother, she would’ve stayed mad, made an effort so it will never happen again. After all, a promise could easily be broken. Just maybe if Kushina was there instead of her, her son can be happy again.


When she first came home with little Sasuke, the infant had wailed, tears rolling down his reddened, pudgy face.

The little bundle of blankets writhed in her attempts to keep him still, and his shrieks stung her ears. Her heart throbbed at her child crying, and Fugaku offered to take the baby.

Before she could hand it to him, she felt a small tug on her shirt as Itachi quietly asked if he could hold the baby.

Mikoto, surprised, knelt down and told him how to hold the baby properly. Itachi had taken Sasuke from her arms with gentleness unfitting for a future ninja. At least that was what Fugaku would have said.

Sasuke immediately stopped crying and screaming, peering up at the new face looking down at him with curiosity.

Itachi tentatively reached a finger to Sasuke, and his little hand curled around Itachi’s finger, a smile spreading across his little face. To her even-more-immense surprise, Itachi laughed. A sound of happiness that she hadn’t heard from him in months, and was afraid she would never hear again.

Soon after, Sasuke fell asleep in his arms, and Fugaku took him to the crib.

After that, Itachi began to come out of his room more often, just to spend time with Sasuke. He held Sasuke for the majority of the time, since Sasuke would cry whenever he was handed to someone else.

Itachi had taught the child how to walk and talk, spending all his free time with him.
It seemed like something that had been missing in Itachi since after witnessing so many deaths had been replaced by Sasuke.

As soon as he could speak full sentences, he would beg to spend time with his older brother constantly.

Mikoto smiled at how close the brothers are, proud of what a good big brother Itachi has become. She wondered how Sasuke would be when he grows up.

“Mikoto, I want you to come inside.” Fugaku said, shaking her out of her thoughts. “I need to show you something before I send it to the Hokage.”

Mikoto couldn’t help but feel surprised at the offer.

She had retired from active duty as a Jonin after giving birth, so that she could dedicate her time raising her children.

“Very well.” She stood up and followed Fugaku to their shared room.

It was painted a warm white and had a window on the side and a large futon in the middle. The room was as clean as usual, all their clothes folded neatly in drawers and the blankets stacked on the corner of the futon.

A small wooden desk was in the corner, stacked with startling amounts of paperwork that could rival the amount the Hokage gets.

Mikoto remembered catching Fugaku spending all night filling out papers messily, grumbling to himself. The troublesome sight looked awfully glorified under the sunlight cascading from the window.

Dust was illuminated by the sun outside, particles dancing around the curtains. The wooden floor was golden, like honey had poured itself onto the ground.

He crossed the room in four big steps, opened a drawer, and pulled out a large scroll. Mikoto couldn’t help but gape at the thought of her husband keeping a potentially dangerous item in such a casual place.

Maybe some of that showed on her face because Fugaku was quick to explain. 

“Someone found this scroll on the outskirts of the village, and after checking its stability, they brought it to the police force.” He explained, taking the scroll and setting it on the table. “We are planning to bring it to the Hokage, but I want to try and figure out how it works.”

“And you brought me here for…?” 

“I know that you have done extensive studies in scrolls and are proficient at identifying them.” Fugaku said, a little fondly. “I want you to help me with getting information from the scroll without the potential of activating it.”

“Ah, I see.” Mikoto shuffled over to the desk, as instructed, before studying the ragged edges of the scroll.

She revisited the scrolls she had seen and read about, flipping through textbooks in her head.

The scroll was too big, with symbols etched across the paper so worn that it wasn’t legible, even with the Sharingan. It wasn’t sealed, and she wondered if it had fallen off. Upon first glance, all she could infer is that the scroll was old. Maybe weather conditions had worn it down quicker, but the average scroll would’ve never lasted long enough to reach its condition.

She made a reminder to herself to take precaution when handling scrolls, even if it had been checked by an unknown someone.

“It’s unlike anything I had ever seen before..” She said, leaning even closer to the scroll so that her hair brushed against the paper.

Clearly, that was the wrong answer, as Fugaku looked a bit disappointed at that and reached for the scroll with a sigh. Mikoto couldn’t help but feel a bit upset with herself.

Was she supposed to feel upset with herself just because she didn’t know something?

Wasn’t Fugaku upset with her?

She could see in slow motion his fingertips brushing against the paper and how the scroll unraveled, seemingly by itself.

A blinding white light engulfed them both.

Mikoto closed her eyes instinctively, her eyelids doing little to spare her from the assault.

She prepared herself for a loud explosion, praying that her children will be alright.

 Her ears popped, but not from sound. She felt Fugaku grip her shoulders as he pushed his way in front of her, shielding her body with his.

She felt like she was being dragged and warped through the whiteness all around her, and when the light faded and everything went black once again, she cracked open an eye. 

Her vision was dotted with orange spots and patches of fuzziness. She immediately checked around her, and realized that they had been transported somewhere else.

She whirled around, looking for Fugaku, and found him bedraggled and boggling at what had happened. 

Then four unexpected faces mimicked the shock on Fugaku’s face. 

Inabi, Yashiro, and Tekka. The three had recently been promoted to the police force by Fugaku. He had mused that the three were extremely talented shinobis but unfortunately had too little humility.
But the fourth face…

“Shisui!?”

“What did you do?” Inabi sneered at Mikoto, then saw Fugaku and Shisui and immediately caught himself.

“C-captain.” He greeted.

Mikoto ignored them, her eyes trailed over the trees absentmindedly as she slowly started to connect the dots in her head.

So it was a space-time scroll, just maybe another variety. They had certainly been transported somewhere they shouldn’t be, although she wondered why and how other people besides her and Fugaku got thrown in with them.

Of course, if they were only transported, the solution would be simple. They could just travel back to Konoha easily and explain the situation. They might be investigated, but it was simple enough. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

The buildings are different, She realized with a start. The overall shape of Konoha was different. Even though she hadn’t seen Konoha afar in years, it was clear that Konoha was not supposed to look like that.

That meant..

“Woah,” Shisui said, looking at his palms, “What the–”

The eleven year old leaped up, kunai drawn and expression alert. When he saw Fugaku, though, he immediately relaxed and smoothed back into a more casual stance.

Fortunately for them, Fugaku was too busy examining where they were to explain to Shisui.

Mikoto studied the landscapes around them.They were standing on a dirt path with trees lining one side and a lake on the other.

Railings were unnecessary but there nonetheless. She could see Konoha towering over the trees in the distance.

It was colder than it was at their house and the air was drier. The grass still thrived despite the sharp sting of wind, the lake barely rippled at the wind, and the trees seemed restless. 

“It seems like the scroll teleported us away from Konoha.” Fugaku said, his sharp gaze traveled over the three men and eleven year old, “It only teleported the people who made contact with it. You three were the ones who found the scroll and brought it in.” He turned to Shisui, “You were the one who tested if it was stable.”

Funny, Mikoto mused in her head, letting an eleven year old tamper with this scroll.

If Shisui had accidentally activated the scroll, he would’ve been stuck here with the three officers, a fate that Mikoto didn’t want to subject anyone to, not even her worst enemies.

She knew Fugaku was taking the lead, knowing that he was the most capable out of all of them.

Fugaku’s voice wasn’t casual like how he is with her, it was strict and had a hard edge to it. He wasn’t her husband or even Itachi and Sasuke’s father at the moment, he was chief of the police force.

“All of us have a part of our Chakra used to teleport us here,” Fugaku continued. Mikoto hadn’t even noticed, impressed that Fugaku managed to figure out so much in so little time.

Inabi, Yashiro, and Tekka nodded in agreement and Mikoto wasn’t sure if they actually meant it or they were just scared to disagree with Fugaku. Shisui said nothing.

“We did not teleport.” Mikoto spoke up, and all five heads turned to her. “That was some kind of variation of the space-time Scroll. We traveled through time.”

She tried her best to speak with reason, but of course they didn’t believe her. She could imagine them laughing in their heads, ridiculing her.

“That’s ridiculous!” Yashiro hissed, but fell silent when Fugaku raised a hand.

“It can very much be possible.” Fugaku emended slowly. “But something as rarely seen as this wouldn’t be discarded in the woods randomly.”

Shisui gestured to Konoha behind them, “Konoha looks different, we are either in the future or the past, sir.”

Mikoto felt grateful to have Shisui conveniently defend her claim. But something deep inside seethed with rage that no one would’ve believed her if Shisui hadn’t piped something up.

Fugaku hesitated, glancing at Konoha. His expression gave nothing away, although Mikoto could imagine the little sparks going off in his head. “These buildings are new, we are likely in the future or very far in the past.” The muscle in his jaw twitched as he thought about that. Something like worry crept up in the creases of his brows.

The members of the police force were rooted into the dirt path, as stiff as a rod and in a perfect line.

“Captain, our best option is to try and reach the Hokage.” Tekka offered. Yashiro nodded in agreement.

Fugaku sighed. “You’re right.” He said finally. “They should be able to recognize me.”

Mikoto wondered if the Uchiha clan and Konoha finally made a truce in the future, if not, and war broke out…

She shook her head, not wanting to think that thought.

But what if the Uchihas had really started a civil war?
What has become of us?

Fugaku couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was happening.

The scroll had opened and white light had swallowed both him and Mikoto. The next moments were a blur as he threw himself against Mikoto to shield her from a potential explosion, despite knowing that if it was an explosion, both of them were going to die no matter what he did.

If Minato was in his place and Kushina was in Mikoto’s, he would’ve found a way to save himself and his wife.

He hoped his sons were safe.
Maybe he hadn’t been the best father, or maybe he wasn’t even a good father.

You never know what kind of man you become until your end. A voice that wasn’t his whispered in his head.

After all, he had brought his four year old son to see a battlefield filled with bloodshed. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, even for a battle-hardened shinobi like him. He could remember Itachi’s blank stare, his eyes trailing across the broken, bloody bodies scattered on the dirt, his eyes no different from a corpse’s.

But he couldn’t say he regretted it either. It had made Itachi strong and worthy of being the Uchiha heir. He was naturally talented, yes, but talent wasn’t enough to prepare the Uchiha heir to take over.

Instead of feeling scorching pain over his body or waking up in the afterlife, he opened his eyes to find himself somewhere else.

Instinctively, he activated his sharingan to disperse any kind of genjutsu, but found none. He looked around and found Mikoto, unharmed, but resisted the urge to sigh in relief when he saw Inabi, Yashiro, Tekka, and Shisui.

He was to show no weakness, as the head of the Uchihas. He must have nothing to be exploited against him.

He searched for the scroll with his Sharingan, but found nothing but trees and still water. They had to get the scroll before it fell into the wrong hands

They decided to head towards Konoha and discuss this with the Hokage. Shisui pointed out that it was possible that the Hokages were different, which Fugaku silently agreed with.

The three police force officers were quiet and respectful, probably afraid to lose their jobs.

He doubted they liked Shisui or Mikoto, but they didn’t dare say. They had all argued against letting Mikoto and Shisui see the scroll before, as professionally and unbiased as they could manage.

They leaped through the trees, towards Konoha, as fast as possible.

Fugaku made sure that Mikoto could catch up, and she did, being an ex-jonin. Shisui was fast, faster than the three officers, which got him a few disdainful looks from them.

Fugaku was glad Itachi had Shisui as his friend. His son could learn a lot from a talented shinobi like Shisui.

Branches whipped at his arms and face, and the wind was even colder now, blowing into his eyes mercilessly and whistling past his ears. His hair blew haphazardly into his face, despite being only chin-length.

He took the lead, taking the nearest route to Konoha.

The trees were not how he remembered, either, and it caught him off guard a couple times.

He kept on checking back on Mikoto, worrying that she would tire and fall behind.

Of course, Shisui caught up on this and checked on Mikoto himself for Fugaku. The talented shinobi slowed down so he was beside her and gave Fugaku a slightly reassuring glance.

Fugaku could hear the grumbles of Inabi, Yashiro, and Tekka, who had no trouble keeping up.

He doesn’t think they are good people, but they are talented ninjas with good potential. Truth is, he was guilty of not paying much attention to the kind of person he is promoting.

Mikoto had pointed that out, but he had never bothered to change. All he needed were capable ninjas who could follow directions and respect their leader.

Being a ninja means being loyal, not having morality. Ninjas are to kill, even if it is against their morals, if it proves their loyalty. Morality is only a burden on the life of a ninja.

“Hey! Stop!”
Fugaku whipped his head towards the sound. There, at least eight ANBU were staring up at them, the light seeping through the canopy casting an eerie glow across the animal masks.




Sasuke sat on the ground with Kakashi, Sakura, and Naruto, all eating their breakfast. They had met up early for training, and none of them had gotten the chance to eat breakfast.

The loud blonde tried to start a conversation with Sakura, only to be ignored and threatened to be mauled to death. Kakashi was smiling awkwardly while watching the two bicker, while reading a book whose contents did not interest Sasuke. Sasuke sulked besides Sakura, gloom reflected on his features.

“Sasuke, why don’t you stop moping about losing a spar to Naruto?”” Kakashi asked him, peering over his porn book. Sasuke scowled at him.

“Yeah!” The annoying blonde piped up, echoing their Sensei’s words, “Stop moping!”

Sasuke doubted that he even knew what the word meant.

“I’m not moping.” Sasuke huffed, shifting so he wasn’t facing the others. He hunched over his breakfast, picking at the leftover rice he packed for himself.

“Yeah, sure you aren’t!” Naruto said, his voice failing to give off the right amount of sarcasm. He sounded like he was heartily agreeing with Sasuke instead of a dry remark.

“Naruto, stop being mean to Sasuke-kun.” Sakura protested for him. Sasuke didn’t have it in him to be grateful.

“I’m not being mean!” Naruto yelped.

“Alright, my little Genins,” Kakashi said suddenly, standing up. “Breakfast is over, we will meet in an hour for our mission.” He snapped the unholy book shut and waited for everyone to get up so he could get the picnic blanket.

Sasuke grumbled, but stood up with his lunch box and dusted himself off. Naruto hopped up, offering a hand to Sakura, but she slapped it away and got up by herself.

“Mean…” Naruto grumbled. Kakashi pulled the blanket off the ground in one sharp motion, making Naruto tumble onto the grass unceremoniously with an undignified, ‘ow!’. He stuck out his tongue to Kakashi and Sasuke.

Sasuke turned around, and stalked off towards his apartment.

“Hey! Wait up, Sasuke!” Naruto chased after him.

“What?” Sasuke demanded, hoping his irritation was clear.

Why won’t this bastard shut up?

Did he imagine a brief look of dejection on his teammate’s face?

“Would you and Sakura like to come to my house for some ramen?” Naruto asked, a little nervously? Sakura had jogged up to them and was listening intently.

That was unusual. Why did his boisterous, confident, nosy frien—teammate look so nervous? What could he possibly have to ask?

Oh, Sasuke realized abruptly, It's his birthday today. October tenth.

He remembered checking his calendar earlier, October tenth had an ‘x’ on it, but he had forgotten why he had put it there.

Yeah, why did he put it on his calendar? 

Why did Naruto’s birthday matter to him, anyway?

Did he want to say yes? He wasn’t sure.

“You must kill your best friend and come face me with these eyes.” Itachi sneered in his head, his voice malicious and vile. Red eyes glowered down at him, as the pinwheel pattern spun, as if hypnotizing him.

The familiar yet unfamiliar voice sent invisible shudders down his back. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the memories away.

No, he didn’t want to get close to Naruto or Sakura. As many times as he had said otherwise, he didn’t want them dead, let alone in his hands.

He swore to himself he would never follow Itachi’s footsteps. That he would never become the wretched creature his brother became that night. Or has always been.

Just the thought of Itachi’s face made his skin pulse with rage, so blinding that his eyes would unfocus. His hands would itch to wrap his fingers around Itachi’s throat, or maybe his own.

But what he hated most, wasn’t Itachi, instead was how he didn’t completely hate him, couldn’t  completely hate him. He had tried to deny it, telling himself that it was one of Itachi’s mind tricks. An illusion that could be erased if he tried hard enough to hate.

After all, hate is stronger than love could ever be. Itachi killing everyone was enough to prove that. Whatever shred of love Itachi had ever had for him had been destroyed when he wanted to ‘test his abilities’.

Even then, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of adoring his older brother, the kind smile as he poked his forehead, and familiar warm arms around him. He hated the warmth of those memories, even though it was his only form of comfort.

“Sure, Naruto.” Sakura said, blinking at him.

The loud blonde grinned widely, looking much more confident. Sasuke wondered if Sakura found his question off-topic because she hadn’t remembered his birthday. She certainly looked befuddled to a good amount.
Naruto turned to him, expectations filled his gaze. It made Sasuke feel awful from the inside out, like the dread of breaking his mother’s vase before remembering she could be coming home any second.

Itachi had taken the blame.

“No.” He said, his voice leveled. “I have things to do.”

The disappointment on Naruto and Sakura’s made Sasuke feel like the worst person alive. He had hoped that telling them that he was busy would lighten the blow, but he had been foolish to think so. The stung felt like his own.

“I’m busy, Sasuke, maybe next time.”

“Are you sure, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asked, her voice a little pinched.

She gave Naruto a weird look, and Sasuke realized that she probably only said yes because she thought that Sasuke would come. Sasuke couldn’t help but feel sorry for Naruto.

Well, that wasn’t hisissue.

Sasuke ignored her, turning his back to them and walking back to his apartment. The air felt too thin, and the air became cold. He didn’t want to see the look on their faces, so he started running as soon as he turned a corner.

His apartment was empty as usual, the bed taking up more than a quarter of the room. A small fridge filled with necessities was crammed near the entrance and his balcony was almost larger than the room itself. A small sofa was crammed in the corner, with barely enough room to sit.
Sasuke walked over and opened the balcony door slightly, letting the cool breeze seep through.

He flopped onto his unmade bed, staring up at his familiar ceiling. It was too early to sleep, but he felt exhausted.

He thought about his family. Back in a time where he was happy, warm, safe, loved. He hated how fuzzy and distant those memories feel.

He thought about his brother. Beyond those bloodied hands gripping the sword that cut down his parents, he could remember his smile. He hated how those memories felt warmer than the ones with his parents in it. He could remember Itachi’s face easily, but not his parents.

He thinks about revenge. Cold, black hate clouding over the warmth that he was supposed to salvage. He could feel hatred in his veins, pain etched in his skin. His kunai slashing at Itachi’s throat before slitting his own. He felt no remorse, nor joy.

But surely he would feel satisfaction when it happens, wouldn’t he? He would be completing his goal, wiping a terrible mass murderer off the face of the world.

Could he really bring himself to smile after spilling the blood of his own brother on his hands?

The weather was perfect, the air cold and crisp and orange leaves drifting onto the ground.

Sasuke would’ve loved to be outside in this weather, Itachi thought, holding out a hand so one of the falling leaves drifted onto his palm.

His Akatsuki cloak shifted in the wind, red clouds moving against the black backdrop.

“Itachi! Let's play outside!” Sasuke called, running over to Itachi to drag him outside.

“Alright, Sasuke.” Itachi was happy that he could finally spend time with him after his exhausting missions. Sasuke took hold of his wrist and pulled him over to the door, waiting impatiently for him to put on his shoes.

The fall leaves whispered in the wind, already starting to fall after the summer. Itachi watched the grin on Sasuke’s face as he tried to catch the leaves, but they somehow managed to dodge his grasp.

“Oh, c’mon!” Sasuke complained.
Itachi caught a leaf with little problems and handed it to his younger brother. He smiled as Sasuke took it, and examined it for imperfections. 


“I never knew you were someone who cared about the weather.” Kisame’s voice was behind him, a hint of amusement was under his voice. Itachi dropped his hand, letting the leaf fall to the ground, where it was supposed to be.

He ignored his partner.

“Has our leader given us a mission yet?” He asked Kisame, turning around. The shark man shook his head, Samehada heaved over his shoulder.

The forest was weirdly empty, the only sounds were the chirps of birds and the leaves. It was peaceful, something that seldom happened while being a missing-nin.

“I guess we should find somewhere to stay until we get handed another mission.” Kisame said, breaking the silence. They both knew they probably wouldn’t get another mission in a while.

“Alright.”


One day, Sasuke, you can kill me. You can become a hero, become strong, and live peacefully. No one can harm you after that.

“Hey! Stop!”
The ANBU stood below them, their weapons drawn and posture alert.

For a second, Fugaku wavered. Although he knew that they weren’t enemies, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy, somehow.

Deciding to ignore the foreboding air blanketing him, he raised a hand, signaling to the others to stop. He could hear their footsteps faltering at the motion.

Shisui landed beside him, with Mikoto following right after. Tekka, Yashiro, and Inabi all stayed on the branch behind.

“Who are you people?” One of the Anbu demanded. Fugaku observed the way her kunai subtly shifted in her grasp. She was probably preparing to throw it at them. He studied the rest of the ANBU, all staring up at him alertly, as if expecting him to charge forward to attack them like a fool.

Even without his sharingan, his trained eye quickly analyzed their stances and categorized them from strongest to weakest, confident that they wouldn’t be much of a challenge to take on.  He wasn’t called Wicked Eye Fugaku for no reason, after all. He had pride carried on his shoulders and the scars he bore.

“Answer us!” The same ANBU boomed. Their voice carried itself through the trees, and if Fugaku listened carefully, he could hear echoes and the faint sounds of birds flapping away from the sudden noise.

Fugaku decided that it would be best to just answer truthfully, as they would recognize him as the leader of the Uchiha clan. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at how they hadn’t already.

Unless…

“I am Fugaku Uchiha of the Leaf!” He declared, his voice balanced with the confidence he had always felt when introducing himself, even when he was young.

He remembered his parents telling him to ‘speak up’ because he was the future heir of the Uchiha clan, and how they would get mad when he couldn’t because of the crowd staring at him. The eyes burning into him were still there, gnawing at his skin. Yet, he still held their words as high as his own, crediting them for carving out the leader he is today.

He remembered the Kyuubi attack, and how they were suspected and relocated to the outskirts of the village. Rage churned up in his stomach at the accusations, red and hot.

He remembered how he would sometimes imagine taking over the village, and delivering justice on his own terms.

Was he really Fugaku Uchiha of the Leaf?

The animal masks on the ninjas’ faces made it impossible to read their expressions, but he could see their knuckles turning white with the tightened grip they had on their weapons, even without the sharingan.
They were carefully picking through the emotions they felt, displaying only the vaguest ones.

Fugaku was a man who had fought his entire life, he wasn’t someone who was easily perturbed. However, it was still unsettling to see his future so unclear, how saying his name could get such a reaction.

As if he didn’t exist in this timeline.

“This–that is ridiculous.” Another ANBU stammered, after an agonizing, stretched silence. “You expect us to fall for such a cheap trick? Capture them for investigation.”

As soon as his raspy voice gave the order, he and four other ANBU leaped at Fugaku, Shisui, and Mikoto while the other three jumped Tekka, Yashiro, and Inabi. Their weapons reflected the sunlight shining on it, all their moves carefully calculated and interwoven with one another.

Well, even if he committed treason in the future, he still shouldn’t kill a Konoha ninja, let alone four.

He immediately pushed Mikoto behind his back, redirecting one of the ANBU’s attacks off to the side, before snatching their wrist and twisting it painfully. The ANBU grunted as Fugaku took the kunai from their grasp, before clutching their wrist and leaping away.

Using his newly stolen kunai, he successfully deflected two thrown at him, sparks flying upon contact. He stole a brief glance at Shisui, who was facing off against two ANBU, swords clashing and exchanging jutsus.

He could see why Shisui was considered one of the most talented Uchiha in the generation. He grudgingly admits that Shisui had the potential to surpass him.

One ANBU got close up, their swords firm in their grip. Fugaku dodged the blade aimed at his torso and slammed the butt of the kunai into the pressure points on their forearm and shoulder as their own momentum carried them forward. Their arm went limp, and the sword dropped out of their hand easily, falling with a thud into the grass below.

“Water release!”

A jet of water shot at Fugaku and Shisui, who both activated their sharingan and jumped out of the way.

With the few moments he had, he checked on Tekka, Yashiro, and Inabi. They were fending off the ANBU well, but he could see sweat glistening on their foreheads and their movements becoming sluggish. The three ANBU were quick, attacking from all sides with slices and sharp movements. It was obvious they had some kind of formation, but Fugaku was too busy to try and figure it out.

They were getting surrounded, he realized. Backup was probably coming quickly.

Suddenly, all the ANBU jumped back into the clearing, their body language  was as ambiguous as their infamous animal masks.

“T-the sharingan-!”

One of the ANBU shook their heads, as if trying to clear their vision.

“But–you’re all dead.”




Mikoto felt her stomach drop at the words.

Dead…

The impact of the words wasn’t as heavy as she thought it would be, but she couldn’t help but listen to the wording of the sentence.

All dead

Did that mean that something had happened to her sons? Did her sons die? It felt like a sword had wormed its way through her stomach and twisted the blade deep into her gut. She could feel dread weighing her shoulders down as she tried to process the news.

Who was responsible for killing them?

Fugaku stepped forward, his face controlled. To the average eye, he would look perfectly calm and composed, but she could see the way his brows narrowed and jaw twitched, as if he was holding back an explosion . Something flashed across his gaze, something incredibly intense.

“What do you mean by dead?”

“What the hell do you mean!? Yashiro yelled at the same time, his voice filled with disbelief and rage. His eyes flashed crimson for a brief second, almost threateningly. Inabi and Tekka just stared with wide eyes, horror refracted on every single one of their features. Something that Mikoto couldn’t read was plastered onto Shisui’s face, the eleven year old looked a bit too much like when Itachi came back from the battlefield. It sent a shiver down Mikoto’s spine.

Fugaku shot a glare at the police officers, but they were too caught up in the unexpected news.

“You’re–” The ANBU started, then stopped themselves. Starting off with a brisker, more professional voice, they said, “We will bring you to the Hokage, he will explain everything.”



Sasuke spent the hour before his mission just staring up at the ceiling, studying the familiar rough dried paint half-heartedly. Through the open balcony, he could smell a barbecue starting somewhere close. He could hear Kakashi’s chides about preparing in his head, and Sakura’s shrill voice. Naruto’s dejected face flashed through his head, making him feel even worse about himself.

Finally, just thirty minutes before having to meet with his team, he cleaned his kunais and shurikens as instructed, and packed all his things. He ended up having to run to avoid being late.

“Sasuke, you’re finally here.” Kakashi said, his mask shifting as he spoke.

“We were waiting so long for you!” Naruto yelled indignantly, “Since when were you such a slow-poke, huh?” He pointed an accusing finger at Sasuke.

“Shut up, Naruto.” Sasuke seethed, glowering at the blonde.

At the same time, Sakura frowned and said, “Naruto, five minutes is not very long.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but feel embarrassed to have gotten riled up by Naruto's childishness.
A heavy hand landed on his head, catching him by surprise so he stumbled forward a bit. He bit back a scowl at Kakashi.

“Today, our mission is to retrieve a scroll.” Kakashi started, his voice mixed with forced cheeriness. “Sounds simple enough, eh?”

The entire group was silent, all waiting for one another to confirm—or deny.

“What scroll?” Sakura piped up.

“A really big and old one,” Kakashi answered, “You’ll know when you see it.”

It was sort of hard to picture an old scroll, given how fragile most of them were. Sasuke didn’t read much, but whenever he held a scroll he felt like ripping it to shreds. He wasn’t the strongest reader, only reading when he had to.

Naruto let a smug grin split his face, “I bet I’ll find it before you guys.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, and Sasuke ignored all of them. Despite his aloof reaction, Sasuke made a mental note to put in more effort to find the scroll, just to annoy him.

This time, unlike a mere hour ago, Naruto did not deflate. He was probably used to the silent treatment from the villagers, their cold, hateful eyes offering no warmth to the lonely orphan wandering the cold streets lit only by distant lights and a moon shrouded by clouds.

Naruto reminded him of himself, both outcasts who will never be accepted, never be loved. Yet, Naruto smiled through it, his personality never fading under even the most dire circumstances. Perhaps, Sasuke was jealous of that trait.

“Well, follow me then.” Kakashi sighed after the awkward silence.


After settling into their inn, Itachi and Kisame walked the streets of the small civilization. The town wasn’t populated by shinobi, so the chances of them being recognized in normal apparel were as low as an S-rank missing-nin could be.

Although, standing beside Kisame was a little conspicuous, given that the man was literally a shark hybrid, gills and all. They had gotten a few weird looks and whispers, although his sharpened hearing reassured him that they hadn’t appeared too suspiciously.

“You act surprisingly like a normal civilian for someone who slaughtered his kin.” Kisame remarked as they turned a corner.

Itachi had gotten used to Kisame’s comments on his history, and found it easier just to ignore him. He was prodding for information, albeit not so discreetly. He often wondered if Kisame ever practiced getting information, or was he just blunt with everything.

He had been absentmindedly tracking each turn they took, mapping it out in his head. Kisame had said that he had been in the town before, but Itachi wasn’t foolish enough to just blindly follow him.

After all, Kisame was a dangerous person and had a terrible sense of direction when it came to land. He trusted Kisame not to attack him, but he had the growing suspicion that Madara sent the man to keep an eye on him.

The town was generally quiet, but there was a festival or celebration of some sort, therefore, everyone was out of their homes. Stands that sold small goods had been set up and were bustling with joyful families. Children skipped around their parents or grandparents and friends laughed openly with one another without a care in the world.

Itachi’s eyes involuntarily followed a boy, no older than eight, being carried by his older sibling. The boy laughed as he poked at his sibling’s cheek teasingly.

Selfishly, he wished he could go back and spend more time with Sasuke. However, it was too late now, as his plan was already in motion. He could still feel the warm weight of his little brother against his back, sometimes.

He was so immersed in his wistful thoughts that he didn’t realize that Kisame was leading them into an unpopular small bar, under the shadows of the larger bars that were at the start of the chain of markets. Kisame opened the door, which caused the small bell hanging above the doorway to ring. On cue, several heads turned their way.

“Oi, Sakito!” One of the younger bartenders waved enthusiastically at Kisame. It occurred to Itachi that Kisame probably had an alias here. “Long time no see!”


Kisame offered to buy a drink for Itachi once they settled down on the seats.

“Sakito, why are we here in the morning?” Itachi asked Kisame.

Kisame just grinned, teeth yellow in the dim lighting of the small bar.  “Have some fun. You always look miserable and half-dead.”

Itachi said nothing, turning away from his comrade. He didn’t want to be in this cramped, alcohol-smelling place, with dim yellow lighting and wooden walls that seemed to cave in every time he shifted his gaze. He had never been in a bar before, and he doesn’t plan on anytime soon.

Kisame called the bartender, who also turned out to be his ‘friend’. The young bartender, maybe in his mid twenties, appeared immediately. After Kisame finished ordering, he and the bartender simultaneously turned to Itachi, scrutinizing him.

“Would you like anything?” Kisame asked, “I’ll pay.” He added, a little reluctantly.

Itachi shook his head,  “I do not drink.”

He didn’t bother to mention that he was below the legal drinking limit, but as a missing-nin, he doubted those rules would mean much. Kisame seemed to realize this a second too late, as the bartender already whisked away.

“Never imagined you as a person who follows the rules that no one cares about.” Kisame grumbled, half to himself.

The bartender introduced himself as Hiroshi, and Itachi gave himself the alias of ‘Reishi’.

“Pleasure to meet you, Reishi.” Hiroshi said.

“Likewise.” Itachi replied politely.

Itachi wondered how Kisame and this guy had become friends over the years. They seemed pretty compatible, having similar personalities and mannerisms.

He could imagine Shisui sitting beside him, laughing at something he said that wasn’t meant as a joke. He could remember a five year old Sasuke, asking him what the place across the street was. He had explained that the place was a bar where people drink. He described the process of making sake in detail, until Sasuke got annoyed and covered his ears adorably.

Lost in thought, Itachi didn’t bother with the conversation, instead leaving Kisame chatting with Hiroshi while drinking his sake. Kisame should know to meet him at the inn in a few hours.

He slipped out of the bar, the bells barely ringing when he opened and closed the door.

The markets were even louder than the bar, bright colors blinded his worsening visions and people’s laughter rang loud in his ears. Owners advertised their markets with signs and loudspeakers, blaring sound ripping through the crowd.

His hand curled into his palm, fingernails digging into his skin. He weaved his way through the crowd towards a tea shop. There, he ordered a cup of tea and a plate of dango.

As he silently ate while sitting at an empty table, he wondered how long he would have to live before getting what he deserved.