Chapter 1
He looks at his imouto and thinks, Ah, I'm in trouble.
He keeps a gentle smile on his face, never once showing his precious imouto his inner turmoil. Fourteen years old and already a master at concealing all his soft spots behind an unshakeable facade.
They live alone around the outer edges of the clan compound. Their otousan died before his imouto was born, at the end of the Second War; their okaasan died six months ago, on a mission that ended in tragedy. Or so he is told; the mission was confidential, and he received only her ashes in a scroll. Both died young, as most shinobi do.
The Uchiha compound is beautiful in a traditional way; natural (carefully tended) gardens, clean koi ponds, polished engawa, bright shoji doors, smooth tatami floors. Of course, uchiwa everywhere. The only thing that changed since the founding of the village must be the layout of the kitchen, he reckons.
Their home is no different. As far as outsiders care to know, any Uchiha represents all Uchiha, and their compound represents the prosperity of the clan as a whole. Although they are not part of any prestigious lineage, the Uchiha are a noble, prideful clan. It would not do for others to think less of them.
They are training at home today, in their private dojo, as they always do. The training room is neither big nor small; it is just right for the two of them to practice their katas.
His imouto -gaze focused and lips pursed, her adorable little face contorted into a severe frown- flawlessly follows along his movements beside him. Her chubby hands have a good grip on her kunai, neither too tight nor too loose. She moves carefully, making sure to make no mistakes. Just as he taught her. He has been teaching her for five months. This is the last traditional Uchiha kata left to teach; he learnt it from their otousan when he was ten.
Uchiha Miwa, his cute imouto, will be three years old in a few months.
He thinks he might die of anxiety.
Last year, Hatake Kakashi graduated from the Academy. At five years old.
He thinks he might kill anyone that dares suggest his imouto follow in Hatake-kun's footsteps.
He mentally shakes any lingering murderous thoughts and attempts to focus his attention back on his imouto.
"Let's finish this one and go clean up, Miichan," he tells her. "I'll have breakfast ready in a bit, and then we will go buy groceries, okay?"
"Hai, onii-sama," and she does just that, movements never faltering. She never falters, never hesitates, not once since he started training her. Even the first time, when he placed a dull kunai in her right hand and carefully showed her how to hold it -before she even started her dexterity training-, she never once fumbled with it, never feared she would cut herself with it.
He thinks this is what being a genius must be all about: knowing exactly what to do before you even attempt it. He wishes the prospect didn't worry as much as it does.
As he makes breakfast, his thoughts return to his most recent worry.
The Third Shinobi War will start soon.
Nobody wishes to acknowledge it quite yet, for all Hatake Sakumo's blunder and subsequent fall from grace, a recent and unpleasant reminder to all that noone is -and never will be- safe in this world they live in, has indelibly sealed all their fates.
And a genius is only a genius if they survive until adulthood. Or double digits, which is what passes for adulthood in a shinobi village.
Does it make him a traitor, hiding Miwa's talent like he does? He considers a small Miichan, five years old and surrounded by enemy shinobi baying for her blood, her battered body giving up on her -he swiftly banishes the thought, lest he becomes a missing nin on the spot.
Miwa-chan, he thinks. The things I would do for you.
There is a problem with his plan of 'hiding her away at home and burying all their troubles six feet under'. It is not even that he worries about her having no friends, even though he probably should. It's not like she wants to play with the other children, so it should be fine. It is that her talent is just too evident.
He is reminded again as he watches Miwa come into the kitchen to help him with breakfast. She places a small foot on a cupboard, and then sticks the other. She walks up into the counter, where she can reach their tea set. She grabs two cups and jumps to the floor, chakra cushioning her fall.
(His sharingan tracks her every move.)
It is a recent development. He started teaching her about chakra a fortnight ago, and coaching her through meditation three months before that. He is proud of her, of course he is.
But she is the only family he has left. He doesn't want to discover for himself if the Uchiha madness is real or not. Still, he doesn't know how long he can delay the inevitable. He is not looking forward to her Academy days at all.
Miwa takes their tea cups over to their kotatsu, and he brings over the food. They settle down.
"Onii-sama," she calls him. "Is onee-sama coming over today?"
He blushes suddenly and fiercely. Why did she have to call her like so? As if she is already part of their family? "Ehem, Shoko-chan's shift today starts after noon, so she will join us to do her groceries and then we will have lunch together, okay?"
Miwa nods seriously and digs in. Her dexterous fingers have no trouble with her chopsticks anymore. What a wistful thought; only a short while ago he would have been feeding her himself, now she could run up the walls and fight with kunai and stab you with the chopsticks. Fuck. Reminiscence makes him moody, but recalling her milestones warms him up inside. He will never forget her first steps, her first words, even though it all went by so fast.
(He is glad the memories are seared into his mind; that he can't ever forget.)
"Remember," he tells her. "The game starts once we step on the genkan." Just in case someone is watching their front door. You can never be too careful, shinobi are too nosy. Retired shinobi with nothing to do worried about a teenager raising a baby on his own even more so.
Miwa nods seriously again, although she sends a curious look at him this time. "Asahi-obaasan is not at home though"
"Ah, but Hiuchi-ojiisan definitely is, isn't he?" He says leadingly, ignoring the anxiety that curls in his chest. Another thing that worries him, he will probably end up developing a heart condition at this rate. He is full of worries these days.
"Mn," how very Uchiha of her. "At the front of his house, on the engawa." On their way out, then.
Sensors are terrifying, he thinks, not for the first time. He still hasn't figured out her range, since it seems to be growing. More than a month ago, she couldn't sense Tekari-san, five houses down from theirs; since a week ago or so, she could sense Hiuchi-san all the way to the edge of the clan compound -five streets away-, where most blacksmiths' forges are located, near the Naka river.
"Then he will definitely tattle to Asahi-obaasan, won't he?" Hiuchi-san is whipped after all, he thinks uncharitably. "Best not to put our guards down."
"Hn," ayo, where did he go wrong? It's fine in public. Expected, even, in front of outsiders. But why is his cute imouto such an old lady at home? "Onii-sama, you are thinking strange things again. I'll tell onee-sama."
"Pfft, noo," get a grip. "I was just thinking that we need to buy some more paper for your calligraphy practice." It's true even. Not that he was thinking about it, but that they needed to.
She looks at him with a face full of doubts, not believing a word he says. He rues the day she heard him extolling her adorableness to Asahi-obaasan. Ever since, she can tell when he is thinking about things like that. It probably shows on his face? A troubling thought, he needs his poker face to be perfect.
Thankfully, she lets it go. Once they finish breakfast and clean up, they go towards the door and get ready. After changing their slippers for their sandals, he checks his wallet. They won't ever be strapped for cash, thanks to their parents' short but fruitful shinobi career.
"Alright!" he claps his hands, to get Miwa-chan to pay attention. "The mission today is simple. We are civilian nobles that gave their guards the slip so they could go have fun incognito! The goal is to get everything we need without being stopped by anyone except Shoko-chan. Is that clear?" The less contact with outsiders, the better!
"Hai!" And off they go.
—
Shoko is as beautiful as ever, even with the collar of her shirt covering half her face. Her half-lidded eyes lock onto them as soon as they round the corner of the street. Her unwavering focus is what he likes the most. As if he is something worth being focused on, worth ignoring the rest of the world for. Something precious. As exposed as it makes him feel, he can't help but like how she looks at him. The way her sharp dark eyes reflect his figure and nothing else.
(His sharingan briefly flashes on every time, saving the sight forever in his memory.)
They have known each other since the Academy. They graduated at nine years old and became genin teammates. Their third teammate died at the end of the Second War. Their teacher died shortly after they became chūnin. They are both orphans, the last of their team.
She is the only one that knows about Miwa, of course.
"Miwa-chan," Shoko greets, voice low but clear even in the busy marketplace. "Tomura."
Tomura gives her an acknowledging nod, even as his eyes track all over her body, making sure she is as healthy as the last time he saw her. Two days ago, before her double shift. The only danger to be found in the hospital are jumpy shinobi, but one can never be too careful.
They don't speak much while shopping. They don't need to, they know each other too well. Miwa-chan walks between them -looking at everything- where they box her in. Miwa doesn't hold their hands but they both hover over her close enough that they might as well have.
A bit embarrassed, Tomura thinks this is what it would be like to be a father. He can't quite look Shoko in the eyes for the next few minutes.
Their "mission" is a success, as it always is. Miwa is very obedient and seriously does as she is told. They finish shopping very quickly and go home for lunch.
Hiuchi-san is still on the engawa when they return. Miwa-chan graciously waves her chubby little fingers at him in greeting, and he grunts a gruff greeting, just as he did when they passed him earlier.
Hiuchi-san's disinterest would be more believable if it weren't for how his eyes search the shadows in front of where Miwa is going. As if making sure she is not walking into an ambush.
Asahi-san, Hiuchi-san's wife, would babysit Miwa back when okaasan was alive and Tomura was too busy training for the chūnin exams.
Tomura suspects Hiuchi-san is aware of Miwa's talent, although not quite the extent of it. He hasn't said anything to anyone, which is why Tomura good-naturedly tolerates their nosiness. Hiuchi-san retired after losing his left leg and Asahi-san is a civilian. He might need them to babysit again when he goes out on missions, should Shoko be unavailable. When the Third War begins.
They reach home and Tomura breathes a sigh of relief. He has become increasingly paranoid as Miwa grows older and more capable. It's not that he thinks that anyone is out to get them, but he can't allow himself to relax when it concerns Miwa's safety. It would only take one of the elders seeing Miwa doing something impressive once for them to immediately pack her up and send her to the Academy. It's the clan pride, he laments, it won't allow them to do anything else. Excellence or death.
They make dinner together. They teach Miwa how to cook while also giving an impromptu poisons lesson. Shoko is good at those, she is a medic after all. After Miwa started using her chakra Shoko had also begun Miwa's poison immunity training. Well, immunity to both poison and venom. If only so that she won't be in danger should Miwa accidentally touch one of Shoko's rinkaichū.
While Shoko gives Miwa some (poisoned) wasabi to try out, Tomura sets the table.
"Onee-sama," Miwa's voice comes out a little teary due to the spiciness. "Teach me how to do the string again."
The breakneck speed of Miwa's chakra training is going to give Tomura gray hairs at fourteen. It's going even faster than her taijutsu training, which is saying a lot. Shoko indulges Miwa, as she often does, and they go about making chakra strings as they eat lunch.
Afterwards, they walk Shoko to the gate of the compound where she leaves them for her shift at the hospital.
They don't have anything to do for the remainder of the day since Tomura is on medical leave for the rest of the week. Nothing serious, just chakra exhaustion. Miwa is already tired though, as small children often are. Tomura carries her the rest of the way home and settles her down for a nap. Miwa often sleeps fitfully, so she needs her beauty sleep. He worries about that, too.
Tomura continues his own training as Miwa sleeps for a few hours. He can't leave her alone unprotected, especially when she is asleep and vulnerable, so he mostly does some conditioning, using heavy weights while practicing his taijutsu.
When he is done, Tomura settles himself at the kotatsu where he enjoys some tea while reading some of the clan's scrolls. He is still there when Miwa resurfaces from her room down the hall, sockless feet silent on the tatami floors as she approaches him.
She joins Tomura at the kotatsu for an afternoon of calligraphy training. It's mostly memorizing kanji, since Miwa's handwriting is already amazingly steady. She still has a way to go, of course, especially with the brush, but it's not any less noteworthy for her age.
They have a lovely evening. He reckons he will miss these moments in a few months. He is determined to enjoy this happiness for as long as he can.
(He saves every precious memory he can.)
(A few months later, Miwa's cut off scream wakes him up in the dead of night. He doesn't know where she learnt that, hiding her feelings so thoroughly. Like showing any sort of vulnerability will be like attracting the attention of a predator.
He is beside her a second later, sharingan blazing, searching for a threat.
No matter how he turns it over in his mind later, it seems Miwa just had a nightmare. Nobody entered their home, nothing was out of place. Nothing to explain what could have happened. Miwa doesn't say anything about it. Not then, and not later. He never finds out what happened. Maybe it doesn't matter.
Miwa looks at him, her little face contorted into a sad expression he has never seen before on her. Like she is hurting terribly.
Her eyes are sharingan red.)