The Sarutobi, for as long as they’ve existed, have always been able to see their red string of fate. It’s a blessing, an intangible guide that’s only visible for them that has helped the clan for generations. Or at least, that’s what his old man has told him. Asuma has a personal theory that somewhere down the line one dude was stupid enough to get themselves cursed and unknowingly passed it on to his bloodline.
Because if anything, the small, red string tied to his left pinky is a distraction.
The color is obnoxious enough as it is—red just a few shades lighter than blood—and the way it extends loose and long and disappears at the first object obstructing its way, following his movement as Asuma does practically anything, and the way it sometimes glows, just the tiniest bit, are making Asuma lose his mind.
Yes, maybe he thinks it’s romantic, somewhat, to have your fated linked to you in some form.
But Asuma hates fate.
Just as the way he hates people’s eyes following his every action, grown-ups nodding and bowing to him, high-ranked shinobi referring him with forced politeness just because he is the Hokage’s son. The way he gets much of what he wants along with burdens and expectations so big he thinks he would crumble under it all.
So Asuma doesn’t like fate. Does anything in his power to change what is apparently destined, and it leads him to swear to himself that he won’t seek the other end of the red string, no matter if he has grown old and white and wrinkly. He would find another person instead and make sure that he is just as happy—happier—without his so-called soulmate.
It’s totally outside of his expectations—dreading and full of mounted horror like stepping on a landmine—as he steps into a crowded room at the day of the Academy Entrance Ceremony, to see his string glows the brightest red he has ever seen. He automatically follows it to the other end tied, looped on another left pinky of a small girl with long, curly hair and red eyes.
What, is what first comes to mind, as Asuma tries to observe the girl and not look at her at the same time.
No. no no no, is the second, as he turns away and almost bolts out of the room, bumping into another person right at the doorway and is shot a mildly annoyed look. He promptly decides to settle at a seat instead, the one at the corner, and tries his best to find the tiles interesting.
He is saved from too much thinking as an instructor passes through the door with a booming, cheery voice, and Asuma tries not to dwell on the fact that his third thought lingers on the color of the girl’s eyes.
༄ ༄ ༄
Asuma first talks to her four months into the academic year, in one of those group projects that lump together random people as the instructor sees fit.
Maybe Asuma has been avoiding the girl all this time and that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with her if he can help it, but work is work. He can just pretend it’s a mission and that the glowing of the string is nonexistent.
It works, mostly. The project gets done in less than a week and he doesn’t have to interact much with her beyond discussing about the materials needed.
Until Hayate comes up to him, at the park after class at the day of the group presentation, looking all weird and awkward and definitely not wanting to do whatever it is he’s trying to.
“Do you have something against Kurenai?” is the forward, blunt question the raven has decided to blurt out after a minute of pained contemplation. Asuma raises a brow.
Yes, her and I are connected by a weird, stupid string that claims we’re fated for life, and I don't like that, is the honest answer, but Asuma would rather eat his own hand than admit something so ridiculous.
“No, why?” he deflects instead, putting on the most innocent and mildly confused expression he can muster. Hayate stares at him, frowns.
“You’re a little… weird, around her” Hayate starts, and Asuma fears it would be a long conversation so he starts gathering his things and gets off the park bench, for once wanting to go home as fast as possible. A sideway glance shows that Hayate keeps up with his stride, walking alongside him.
“Not mean, but it’s like you’re avoiding her” a cough, a pause, “…and you called her Yūhi, right in front of everyone.”
Asuma holds in a grimace, fastening his pace. Yeah, he kind of… did that. At the presentation, when he needed to mention her name to indicate that it’s her turn to talk, and he had hoped the others would chalk it up as him being formal for the presentation.
Except, Asuma has never called the others using their surname. Ever. Not many shinobi do, actually. It could be a lingering habit from the Warring States era when people practically didn’t call others with their clan name except in battles with clear malicious intent, or it could just be the way to build the most basic bond as the Leaf’s shinobi.
Now that he thinks about it, Asuma never really calls the girl with her given name, either. It’s always you or hey or other variations he knows, and maybe he should have expected one of his friends would confront him about it sooner or later. He knows being subtle isn’t exactly his forte.
“I don’t know what your problem with her is” Hayate speaks faster as the Hokage Tower comes into view, but his voice is lowered, careful, “but you should talk it out. She looked... sad” the last part is said after a brief, hesitant pause, as if it would make Asuma actually think about the matter.
“What, you fancy her?” his playful smirk—and very vain attempt at making things light—is met with a very unimpressed expression, and Hayate finally leaves with a short goodbye and one last frown.
Asuma throws his bag as soon as he gets into his room, flops himself on the bed, and pointedly doesn’t think, trying to get himself to sleep.
(It’s hard though, especially when he remembers the way red eyes stared blankly at him, as if she had been slapped, and Asuma, for the first time, wonders if he could’ve done different)
༄ ༄ ༄
As opposed to what Asuma has feared, his little blunder doesn’t change anything. A few girls shoot him a look or even glaring outright, but as Kurenai comes and smiles and even greets him politely like usual, everyone lets the matter go.
(That actually just makes him more uncomfortable, an itch under his skin, and Asuma doesn’t know what to do with the guilt coiling in his gut.)
He doesn’t want them to get close, but he doesn’t want her to hate him either. They would most likely have a few missions together once they reach chūnin, and Asuma would really rather have a neutral relationship.
The way she easily smiles while calling him with his surname doesn’t help.
“If you feel guilty, you should just apologize” Genma says, once, as Asuma is thinking too long in front of his lunch. The Sarutobi frowns, “I don’t think I did anything wrong” and while that’s not completely true, it’s not wrong either.
“Rin says you’re being weirdly indifferent to Kurenai” the brown-haired kid says again after swallowing his mouthful, “Intentional or not, I think you should apologize.”
Asuma frowns, stabbing something green with his fork. He does know that he should say sorry, at least for the misunderstanding (it’s not a misunderstanding at all, but he doubts saying he has been intentionally avoiding the girl would help). Or maybe he could buy her something, just like how his mother always makes his favorite dish after every fight just so she doesn’t really have to say anything at all.
But as he grabs a box of dango a few days later, walking and gathering his courage to pass it on to her, he looks at Kurenai, her face lighting up with laughter as she looks at something stupid a certain Uchiha is doing, and Asuma turns away.
Later. Next time. He would say sorry then, just not now.
༄ ༄ ༄
Asuma ends up not having a chance to apologize, because of one reason or another, until too much time has passed and it’s just weird to do so. And after a year of the academy, a month after Kakashi’s sudden, too-early promotion to genin, there’s a word of war, and Asuma doesn’t have time to think much about his string as the village plunges into a condition he has never seen before.
Evacuation sites, secret shelters, underground passage—suddenly all they’re learning is how to defend themselves from an attack in the village, and all Asuma can think about is how his older brothers act much nicer than usual it’s almost creepy.
(His mother has said to be kind as well, that they might not be able to see each other again after the war, and Asuma stops making faces at his brothers as he gets another one of one-arm hugs and hair ruffles).
“I guess it’s a good thing I haven’t met my soulmate” his oldest brother murmurs at the rare time he’s home, face flushed and Asuma scrunches his nose at the sake bottles on the table, “Must be nice if I could see her before I die… but maybe it’s for the better” the man downs another glass and slumps, Asuma’s other brother taking away the bottles with a sigh.
Asuma looks at his pinky finger, remembers who it is connected to, and goes up to his room.
.
His oldest brother doesn’t come back.
The news is broken to him after the academy when he is preparing to go to the library to meet Anko and Aoba for a history project, and Asuma doesn’t know what he’s feeling except a weird sense of… nothing. Numb. And seeing parts of his brother found after an investigation and buried as a 'hero' doesn’t exactly change that.
“We’re staying at Ebisu’s today. Do you wanna stay with your family or…?” Raidō lets the question trails off, not sure how to put it into words, but Asuma understands. His friends are good guys, and they wouldn’t let him be alone at times like this. Especially knowing just how busy the Hokage is lately, they know that Asuma would need another shoulder to lean on.
He’s about to nod, glad to have someone monitor him and drag him along when he doesn’t even know what to do with himself at this point, but then he sees his strings shine, his female classmates approaching with thinly-veiled worry, and Asuma remembers that talk about soulmates and he just… can’t.
He refuses the offer, turns on his heels, and runs.
He knows his friends are pig-headed, though, so it’s not a surprise when two of them approach him again, merely an hour after, and Asuma is just glad none of them is Kurenai.
“Hey! What gives” Obito gets into the stand and takes a seat on the stool next to him, Rin following and sitting on his other side, “You’re making the others worry.”
Asuma knows that. He also knows he is being childish and irrational, but he just doesn’t want to think about reds and strings and things left unsaid and done halfway and there’s one person in his year that reminds him of all of those.
“Yeah, sorry, just gotta think by myself right now” and at least that’s not a lie. Obito and Rin order their food while a bowl is put in front of him, and Asuma doesn’t wait for theirs before he digs in.
“Is it about Kurenai?”
Asuma chokes on his rice, coughing and punching on his chest several times before accepting and gulping down the water shoved to him. After he is sure his pipes are clear, he turns to Rin and glares, “What do you mean?”
It’s a wrong response, it seems, as Rin blinks at him and Asuma can practically see the realization on the brown eyes.
“So it is” she says, softly, and turns to face Obito. The boy doesn’t seem to understand—thank Kami—but Rin is sending an expression that looks vaguely like I’ll-explain-later and so the Uchiha just nods.
Rin never does answer his question.
༄ ༄ ༄
At their third year of the academy, they’re told that they can already try to take the graduation exam next year, and Asuma can guess what they need an addition of genin for.
(There’s a grim talk he overhears, about child soldiers and they would be shinobi anyway and they’re older than we were, and Asuma doesn’t come home to the Hokage Residence for a long while, hopping from one friend’s place to another)
He shouldn’t have been surprised, as he drops his bag in front of a house in the Uchiha Compound, to see all his female friends there.
”Uh, so Obaa-chan got kinda excited when I told her a friend is coming over, and she told me to get the others too, so…” Obito trails off as he waves vaguely at the girls who are talking enthusiastically with a kind-looking old woman, then at another corner where Gai and—of all people—Kakashi, who are… plumbing? Asuma is pretty sure they’re trying to fix the leaks on the roof and under the sink, and now that he looks closely Obito is drenched from stomach down.
Asuma stares, laughs, and goes to help.
When the night rolls around, Obito’s grandma surprises them with a feast, even though Asuma has emphasized very clearly that he would bring his own meals (the others do too, and it seems like Asuma isn’t the only one to keep in mind to bring lots of food often from now on)
And the cycle of coming back home briefly and sleeping over continues until the next year.
“Are you taking the test?”
Asuma ends up asking, when the class is still relatively empty and Kurenai has just sat down. She looks up at him, tilts her head, and Asuma has to ball his fists behind his back to focus his eyes on the girl.
“I am” she finally answers, a little wary but firm, and Asuma doesn’t know why he feels even more anxious than before.
He doesn’t comment, though. Just lets out a low hum and nods, going back to his seat.
There’s something crawling up his skin, along the way up his neck, and Asuma doesn’t know why he’s clenching his fists so hard it bleeds.
༄ ༄ ༄
Asuma has thought that graduating to genin would finally make it easier to forget the string, except he really didn’t expect to be in the same team with his… target of avoidance.
It’s unfair, Asuma thinks. His oldest brother didn’t get to meet his soulmate until he died, and his second brother often whines about how he’s rarely able to meet his girlfriend because of the team assignment, and when Asuma hopes to be separated from his soulmate, they get lumped together instead.
Unfair, just like how Kurenai formally asks him and Raidō permission to be in their care, and Asuma can’t help but nod and think that he would do just that.
“…are you alright with it?” Raidō whispers to him after the announcement as they prepare to go back home, most of the class already pattering outside “the team assignment, I mean.”
Asuma raises a brow, “Huh, did I do something that makes you think I don’t like you, Raidō?”
Raidō makes a face and Asuma thinks he would get a whole lot more of those starting now, “No. You know I meant Kurenai.”
He isn’t being cryptic, but he isn’t exactly straightforward either, so Asuma just shrugs, “‘Course I am, why?”
Raidō opens his mouth, pauses, closes it again. Grunts in frustration and while Asuma feels the slightest bit guilty, he is glad that the boy isn’t as blunt as Genma.
Asuma shouldn’t have jinxed it though, because right after he thinks that, the lanky, brown-haired boy goes up to them—and Asuma knew Genma is Raidō’s closest friend in the academy—and doesn’t pull any punches.
“You act like you don’t want to have anything to do with her even when you’re fine with the other girls” the boy drawls before a smirk creeps up his face, “though some of us are betting you actually have a crush on her and is just too shy to show it.”
Asuma freezes, speechless, because just what of his actions would encourage that kind of—
“You’re careful with what you say when Kurenai is around” Genma blurts out, as if reading his mind “You get strangely quiet, even. You glance her way often and—no, I know you have no interest in whatever Ibiki is doing—I saw you watering her plant on that one kunoichi assignment when she got down with a cold for three days. You showed your notes to Rin when Kurenai asked to borrow hers because she had missed some parts, you feint sickness or injury every time you get partnered up with her in a spar. Not to mention that one time she accidently got hurt because of an upperclassman’s wayward jutsu and you carried her to—”
Asuma punches the desk, hard, and sees the way Genma and Raidō flinch, the former promptly shutting up.
“…So I’m being a little nice to a girl” he starts, slow, and doesn’t even bother to be careful with his tone, “what’s it to you?”
Genma, for once, seems to think about it. There’s a gleam in his eyes that shows he isn’t impressed with Asuma’s attempt at power-play, though.
“…I don’t really care about what you two have against each other” the Shiranui says, voice a tad colder than his usual one, “But Raidō here is determined to make his team works. Your team. And with the way you’re acting, I can see just why he’s so anxious about it.”
That’s… Asuma doesn’t have anything to say to that. He glances at the said scarred boy, sees the way Raidō looks like he would much prefer to be talking about anything but this but still is anyway, and…
Yeah. Maybe Asuma is being a little unfair.
“…My bad” he mutters, looking at the tiles, and can only hope that Raidō knows he is being sincere, “It’s just… I don’t have a problem with her, really, but it’s… complicated” Asuma doesn’t have the mental capacity to talk about his clan’s weird and practically useless ability right now, and is infinitely glad when Raidō finally nods, seemingly understanding and merciful, and he pats Asuma’s shoulder.
“I’ll see you tomorrow” he says and leaves the room, Genma following after fisting a supporting bump on Asuma’s arm.
Asuma doesn’t want to think about tomorrow. Or the next week. Or month. Or about anyone.
And his string glows a faint red.
༄ ༄ ༄
As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Asuma knows Raidō has a point. They’re a team now, and his dislike of fates aside, Asuma needs to get closer to his teammates to know them better. He’s aware that small, seemingly insignificant things like that could be what saves them at the field.
His first step, he decides, is to make Kurenai call him with his name again. Shouldn’t be too hard, he thinks, if he asks nicely and vaguely apologize for that thing on their first project.
It turns out Asuma doesn’t even need to try though, because Kurenai easily greets him with his given name as they arrive at the training ground to meet their jōnin instructor.
Raidō glances at him, looking faintly expectant, and Asuma doesn’t know what it is the boy wants him to do so he just smiles, makes it as genuine as he can, and greets back. From the relieved expression on Raidō’s face, it seems he is successful on some parts.
And their first training as a team is a test of teamwork. Not surprising, since that’s one of the cores of Konoha teaching, and Asuma knows how Raidō and Kurenai fight, and they know him, and while they end up sprawling on the grass, wheezing and sweating like crazy, dirt and bruises in place of the skin, they get a pass at being a genin.
And Asuma thinks, as he looks up at the sky and the slowly moving clouds with his two newly-arranged teammates on either of his sides, that maybe this arrangement isn’t so bad.
༄ ༄ ༄
When they’re first sent to the war—on a C-rank mission that’s said to be safe enough—the old man stares at him for a little too long before puffing his pipe, telling them to be careful. The man is supposed to be the Hokage at the moment, and Asuma his soldier, but maybe the loss of his oldest still stings, so Asuma smiles wanly and says they’re going to be alright.
And they are. Their first mission ends well, with scrolls received and ambushes evaded. It’s almost boring, but from the story of Anko and Ibiki’s first mission, Asuma isn’t going to complain.
It’s on their fourth mission to the battlefield—another C-rank that’s supposed to be easy—that they are met with the horror of the war.
“Just go” Raidō whisper-hisses, hands grabbing at the deep cut on his leg, blood pouring out and pooling on the ground, his pants sopping wet. “Leave me, just go!”
Asuma remembers his brother, his cause of 'noble' death, and knows that’s not even a choice.
“Hold this, Kurenai” he hands out the box of rare herbs they’re supposed to retrieve and makes to carry the other boy.
“No—Hey! I’m going to slow you guys down, just go!” Raidō insists, pale and eyes glazed but with so much fire Asuma isn't sure where it comes from. There's desperation in his friend’s voice though, and Asuma holds in a wince as he settles the boy on his back. Raidō attempts at thrashing but even that apparently sends a jolting pain as he flinches and slumps with a grunt.
They start running, and Asuma tries not to think of the warm wetness on one of his hands as he sprints his way through the woods, periodically glancing to his side to make sure Kurenai is still next to him.
There’s a crash. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and the trees some ways behind them collapse, crumbling down in splinters. Even without sensory abilities, Asuma knows their pursuers are getting closer.
“Get me down, Asuma!” Raidō is yelling now, and Asuma can count the times the boy does that with one hand so it sends many kinds of alarm in his head, “I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure to slow them down.”
The first sentence is an outright nasty lie, no matter how much firmness and false confidence Raidō tries to slip into the words.
“Like hell we’re leaving you” Asuma says, his hold tightening in case Raidō decides to be stupid, and adds, “We’re not far from the meeting point. Once me meet with Sensei—”
A flash. An explosion. Asuma loses his step on the trees and falls, body barely maneuvered to not land completely on the other boy.
“Shit—Kurenai!!” he shouts as dust fills his vision, eyes darting around, wide, and even the glow of the string doesn’t help—
“I’m here” a voice says next to him, and Asuma turns to see Kurenai tying something on Raidō’s back. Did he get even more hurt during the explosion—
“Go to the meeting point, you two” she stands up, and Asuma belatedly realizes that it’s not bandage she tied at Raidō, but a cloth covering a box— “I’m going to hold them back.”
And she smiles, kind and warm like she always is, but there’s an underlying of fire in her eyes, in the lines of her face, and something resembling sadness that Asuma often sees in the mirror.
“Be kind to each other” his mother has said, “No one can tell who get to go back home in wars.”
“He volunteered to be the distraction” a familiar face he often saw around his brother choked in between sobs, “He promised he’d catch up with us, but—”
And Kurenai leaves, a kunai in each hand, running headlong into the dust, the red string following loosely behind her.
Asuma stills, a knee and a palm still on the ground, and forgets how to breath. He… should get her back. Should grab and carry her despite what she thinks she needs to do. But then she is already gone, and she is going to die, and Raidō next to him is already on his way to dying from blood loss and there’s every chance he wouldn’t make it, and—
And maybe that’s their fate. To die on the battlefield for their friend and village, a Konoha shinobi through and through. Maybe that’s an honor, a luxury, but—
But Asuma always despises fate.
So he gathers his last remaining chakra, makes a handseal, and a real copy of himself appears with a poof.
Asuma jumps into the dust as he sees his bunshin grabs Raidō and runs, and for the first time, he follows the red string and hopes to find the other end.
༄ ༄ ༄
They make it to the village.
Asuma doesn’t remember much besides explosions and woods and fire, but then he does remember a broad back, shielding him and kurenai, and after muttering an apology and reassurance to them their sensei absolutely massacred the enemies, leaving a patch of the forest red.
When Raidō is allowed out of the hospital, Asuma gathers his teammates, brings them to the park, and talks. About the Sarutobi’s ability. The red string. Everything.
He never knew talking about it would be so… relieving. Like a whole load off his back. Like one less regret he’ll bring to the grave.
And Raidō—bless the guy—takes it pretty well, somehow.
“So that’s why you’ve been acting like… that” the boy says, looking at Asuma, Kurenai, and back, apparently remembering the academy days.
“Yeah” Asuma easily admits now that there’s nothing hidden between them, “I just… don’t want to follow the path that’s laid out for me. That’s ridiculous. I’ll walk on my own, find my own path, and…” he flicks his gaze, looks into his teammates in the eye “I shouldn’t have dragged you guys into it. I’m really sorry.”
And he is. Very. He shouldn’t have kept a distance from Kurenai just to avoid some stupid fate, and he shouldn’t have worried Raidō, and Sensei has even brought up his similar worry, and Asuma feels like all of this is his fault—
“So the red string” Kurenai, who has been quiet all this time, pipes up. Asuma gathers his courage and looks up at the girl, for the first time really seeing her instead of around “so it’s tied to me?”
Asuma nods, “Yeah”
“You can still see it?”
“Doubt I will ever not”
A thoughtful pause, Kurenai trying to see what she can’t, turning her hand around, before she asks, “Is there any way to get rid of it?”
It’s like a punch to the gut, sudden and painful, and Asuma can’t even complain because he knows he has brought this on himself.
“…as far as I know, no” he answers and is relieved at how his voice is as steady as he doesn’t feel, “It doesn’t have to mean anything, though.” he quickly adds, “not if we.. if you don’t want it to”
Because surely he has ruined it. With his own two hands, no less.
Kurenai shakes her head, “No, I mean—” she looks at Raidō, who blinks and nods encouragingly, and continues, “…If this is why you’ve been… acting differently to me, then I think it’d be better if it didn't exist.” Her voice gets softer as she talks, and when Asuma thinks she is done she speaks again, familiar gleam in her eyes, “I don’t want it to be gone, though.”
Asuma blinks, stills. He replays the words, turning it upside down, because there’s no way the implication he catches is true—
Raidō is looking surprised out of his mind and faintly disturbed though, so maybe Asuma isn’t completely wrong.
He really hopes he isn’t wrong.
“Are you—”
“You still owe me a lot of sparring matches, Asuma” Kurenai cuts him off, standing up from the bench and stretching her arms. When she looks over her shoulder, there’s a smile on her face, bright and warm, “I hope you’re not suffering from a fatal papercut this time.”
Raidō huffs a laugh, also standing up, and Asuma follows, a wide grin on his face, and he doesn’t remember the last time he felt this content.