Trickling stream

“Spider.” Ann greets, a weary note in her voice. There’s a slight furrow between her brows. Her trembling fingers lightly clasp together in front of her.

“Kochou.” Spider says back. 

The two of them miss no time in matching steps, Ann falling half a step behind. The silence is not unpleasant.

“Nee-sama.” Ayaka whines, circling Ann’s waist. There’s a tension underneath that she can feel, something that would’ve come from intense physical workout. Something that involves twisting and turning, utilizing the core muscles. “You’ve been gone for a while.”

Ann is gone more often than not these days, Ayaka notices. It’s nothing mysterious-Ayaka isn’t technically a part of Furoushiku, while Ann definitely is. She has duties that Ayaka does not share-courtesy of their mother’s protection over her.

“I was training, Imouto.” Ann brushes her off easily, except Ayaka knows that’s only a half truth. The slightly salty smell of sweat in her hair would confirm she was exercising, but the gradual blankness in her chakra promises more.

“Training for what, nee-sama?” Ayaka pouts. 

“It’s Furoushiku business, Imouto.” Ann’s fingers card through Ayaka’s hair, and she just melts at the touch.

It’s not an obvious thing, whenever Ann goes with Spider. Oh, their lesson continues, yes, and Ayaka enjoyed each and every single one of them, but Ann is growing more and more similar to Spider, chakra wise. Blank, clean, almost hollow.

Ayaka doesn’t like it one bit. But sometimes, there is little you can do about a decision made not by your hand.

Her grip on Ann tightens, knowing how little power she has in this instant, how little power more she will have in the future.

Because she is protected.

And protection can be the worst suffocation there is.

“Camellia.”

Ann speaks from the doorway, one of the few moments when Ayaka is not near, not likely to sense the fluctuation in both their chakra. Camellia understands the need.

This is no meeting between a foster mother and their adopted child, but one between a madam and their girl.

“Butterfly.” The name is unfamiliar, rolls awkwardly off her tongue. No matter. She will get used to it soon enough.

The young child slips into the chair opposite her, sitting with a grace that must have been copied from Spider, similar in the fluidity with which they move. Her etiquette is good-not yet flawless, but good. 

With small fingers and all the awkwardness of a young child, Butterfly picks up the cup of tea Camellia has already set down for her and takes a sip. 

Silence reigns for a while.

“I do not know if you are deliberately obtuse or simply ignorant.” The young girl starts, her words bold and blunt. Much must be learnt in this regard, but she has time.

“No Furoushiku madam is ignorant, Butterfly.” Camellia asserts calmly, seeking to set right to any misconception the girl might hold.

“Yet here you are.” 

Camellia doesn’t respond, sipping her tea like they have all the time in the world. 

They do not.

The clock ticks somewhere, and the silence stills their breath.

“Touche, child.”

Shisui and Ayaka grow to become fast friends.

Ayaka is always with a million tales to tell, and Shisui listens, then talks about his own story. Some of them whimsical, some of them more realistic.

And all of them under Mikoto’s watchful eyes and into Itachi’s curious ears.

With a lady like Uchiha Mikoto, you do not want to get on her bad side. She’s reasonable, a woman of fine age and even finer mind in this rather ridiculous world, but she is also a mother. She is insistent, strong will, yet entirely capable of acting the part of a traditional woman. 

Ayaka is admittedly jealous.

Ayaka likes playing with the Uchiha cousins. They’re fun, they play to the rules, they aren’t afraid of rough handling, in fact, they aren’t afraid of rough handling her. There’s nothing piteous about their gaze, nothing sympathetic, nothing judgemental. 

Plenty of condescendence, of course, coming from prodigies in clans, that is expected, but it’s receding everyday.

They are also some pretty idealistic people.

“I want to protect the village.” Shisui says, and Ayaka laughs.

“Aren’t you already doing so?”

They both stay their tongue about the rot underneath. It’s not the place of a five-going-six years old and an eight years old to comment on the political machinations of something beyond them.

They do pranks.

It is spectacular.

Ann begrudgingly tolerated the glitter in her hair, but Spider cracked a small smile at the strange glimmer in their locks.

It takes two weeks before Mikoto figures out who exactly has been supplying Shisui with paint and color powder and swiftly cranks down on their operations with ruthlessness and also gentleness. She is such a badass. 

“How about we throw some paint at Hokata-san’s house?”

“Hokata who? The one in the market?”

“Yeah! The one that sneered at one of my clanmates last week because they were staring too long at his display.”

“You mean the one on Shiki street?”

“Yes! How do you know?”

“...He always glares at the kiddos. How about dung bombs?”

“I’m listening. What's a dung bomb?”

“Oh, you’re gonna love this. So dung bomb is…”

Ann looks at the duo, just now returning from what was a rather suspicious talk, and raises her brow.

“Do I want to know?”

“I don’t think so.” Ayaka chirps, looking perturbedly cheerful. “You should keep your deniability.”

Shisui has a smudge on his cheek that looks like the stain from a herb Ann is pretty sure they have in stock.

Itachi glances up from his scroll, curious, but not asking.

In the far distance, there’s an enraged scream.

Later, they begin pulling Itachi into their little mischievous trips. Not much-the kid is a little bit of a rule stickler.

But the quartet-because Ann goes too-goes tramping through the forest ground every now and then, and Ayaka would point out which herb is good to eat and which grass can be used as emergency first aid, which way to go to find a stream. Ann would show them how to make little ropes out of tree bark, how to hide from above view, how to quickly make a fire from kindlings. Things you can’t quite learn in textbooks.

It’s nothing much-skills the twins have amalgamated from their time wandering the woodland in their freetime. Half-day trips whenever Mikoto-san turns her back, and they’ll be back before their park time is up.

It’s fun, and the Uchiha would teach them to hunt-mostly Ayaka. Ann doesn’t have the stamina for it. They don’t have enough time for a proper feast, but a simple snack is nice to share between friends. 

Ayaka listens to the tale Shisui weaves about the time Itachi and him went camping between their meetups and smiles.

Ayaka isn’t blind. 

She knows Ann keeps up this little friendship with the Uchiha for a purpose. What that is, she can guess at, but there’s no guarantee it would be true.

She doesn’t ask.

Color her naive, but Ayaka likes being these guys’ friends. It’s exhilarating to have people so far above your level, to be constantly chasing, yet they’re so fucking friendly to you.

Clara was used to being chased, to chasing, but never to friendliness in that race.

Ayaka keeps her deniability at the ulterior motive behind Ann’s movement, because she knows enough to guess that she plays as a good piece in the game that is life.

“I see you have been pursuing a more political approach.” Spider speaks mildly, in the midst of one of their sessions. She’s busy with a scroll, reading it over and writing in another.

Ayaka keeps her attention on the sphere in front of her, trying to move it into a flowing ribbon, but it doesn’t stop her from listening. Water is more open to moving, a part of its nature the ever constant motion. But the control part of keeping it a ribbon and not random water rushing about is hard.

“I find that traditional means are not… expedient enough for my liking.” Ann says with the same cold disinterest in her eyes as the water flows under her hand into a soft ribbon. “So I seek an alternative method.”

There’s a certain stillness to Spider’s figure that wasn't there a moment before. It’s not easily noticeable, not even in her chakra, but Ayaka feels it all the same.

“I see.” Spider doesn’t argue, only acknowledging. “Be careful in your endeavor.”

That sounds ominous-almost a warning from Spider. Ayaka can’t help but feel happy that at least the older girl cares enough to be worried.

“Is there something wrong?” Ayaka cuts in, feigning innocence. 

“None.” “Nothing.” Both reassure her, even if all of them know there is something.

Itachi is an oddball to Ayaka-she can never really understand the boy. Too… apathetic. No, not that. Passive.

He’s just… going along with the motion. 

Something’s wrong.

Ayaka can see the tension in shoulders too young for burdens, the tiredness in his brows.

But of course. There’s so much expectations on him. Prodigy, clan heir, and Uchiha, famous for producing genius. A genius in geniuses.

The blankness in his eyes, the droopiness at the corner of his gaze-it both terrifies and excites her.

That boy is a monster in the making under the pressure-and yet here he is, functioning under everything.

Ayaka is terrified for the day that bomb explodes and also very excited for the potential violative tendencies she can guess at in him.