Uchiha Shisui
Uchiha Shisui was in deep throes of despair. He did not know what to do. The matter with his clan and Danzo was too pressing, too heavy for just him alone. He wanted to report it to the Hokage, but the old man did not seem like a reliable person. He had allowed Danzo to reign in the dark all this while, after all. Shisui wasn’t sure whether he would do something about the Uchiha, deal with Danzo, or just continue to try playing a mediator until it was all too late.
No one in the clan would listen to him, either. At least no one with high enough of standings in the clan. Obito had been a pariah to the clan ever since his return with Tsunade-hime. The man had insisted on not retrieving his eye from Hatake as he had already gifted it, so it would be dishonorable to take it back. Shisui shared the same opinion, but man, could Obito use some tact. Shisui wanted to do something about their clan, but the clan didn’t seem to see the futility in their actions and what they would bring. The destruction, the despair, the misplaced trust, the children… Kami, the children…
Fugaku… Maybe he would listen to reason. The man had been reluctant to follow through with the clan’s plan but had to go with it now because it was the clan and he was their leader. He might be thinking that they could go about their coup peacefully and with as less bloodshed as possible, which would leave the children and most of Konoha protected. However, Shisui knew better. The elders in their clan had been infested with too much hatred. They would not stop at just that. They would want more, and they would do more.
Sighing, Shisui tilted his head up to stare at the full moon. It was still early, by young people’s standards. He could see shinobi and civilians alike miling the street, enjoying their night. The street below his perch was an odd one. Bars fitted one every five shops, a dagashi store that kids frequented, and an old grocery store that was manned by a grumpy old lady that sold vegetables and meat at unusually cheap prices were among the elements that stood out. It was odd because bars were usually only located on the north side of the village, where it was populated by adults with no family or kids around. Grocery stores were usually located near the village’s gate since it was the closer to the farms. And dagashi stores… Shisui was not so sure about that. He had seen grown-ass adults go to dagashi shops as frequently as kids. Most of them were jounin as well, so Shisui really could not say that they were buying candies for their children.
Most jounins, especially the ones who survived the war, did not get married. They did fuck around like rabbits in heat, but they did not get married. Shisui shuddered when he thought of all the sex-ed classes some teachers at the Academy had to give them after newly promoted jounins reached 15 years of age. Of course they knew how to kill, but were completely clueless when it came to condoms and how to use them. It wasn’t that none of the jounin did settle down. Some of them did, a few years after the war ended and they had healed a bit. But more of them were kind of scared at the idea of bringing a child to this fucked up world where you learned about killing people way before you learned about doing your taxes.
Shisui kept watching the street below him while his thoughts were running miles per second. He despaired at what to do. Genjutsu couldn’t be a cure-all, especially not against the whole clan. Fugaku might not even need a genjutsu cast on him, not when words might work. But words were not exactly Shisui’s forte. He did not know what to say that would not end up with him spouting shit like, So, you do this coup, and either the whole Konoha goes up in flame, or our clan ends up annihilated. Do you see how fucking stupid that is?
Yeah, Shisui was not equipped for this.
A young man approached the grocery shop with the grumpy old woman with a big smile on his face. Shisui recognized that scarred face and high bushy ponytail. That man was one of the few people that Shisui had felt safe with, despite the fact that they had never talked to each other, save for the awkward sex-ed classes. Shisui actually did not know what to make of that young man. He was older than him only by two years, but already a very accomplished contributing member of Konoha’s society.
Now, Shisui was not saying that he had not contributed to Konoha. However, very few of his contributions involved no blood being shed. Meanwhile, Umino over there guided children with firm hands and a soft heart. His contributions would be made apparent if one bothered to look at the statistic—specifically, the mortality and competency rate of Academy graduates in recent years. Umino had made contributions when he was not even yet an instructor at the Academy.
The man greeted the old lady with a huge smile on his face. He talked to her, explaining some things- Shisui guessed the happenings at the Academy that day, hands flying around. He then perused the vegetables at the stall and picked some mushrooms and eggplant. He looked very pleased with the mushroom although he hesitated a bit at the eggplant. He also picked up some udon with one ready-made soy sauce-based soup. The old lady seemed fond of Umino as she had none of her gruff demeanor while listening to him talking and even responded to his words, asking her own questions.
Umino Iruka left the stall not five minutes later with a full bag and an even bigger smile. Shisui spotted some extra mushrooms being stuffed in the bag, courtesy of the old lady, which Iruka might or might not have noticed. One never knew with that man. Shisui thought he might have noticed. No one would have a smile that big at this hour, after all. Not after a tiring day of haranguing a bunch of pre-genin kids.
For some reason, Umino stopped right beneath Shisui’s tree and kept staring at the branch he was perched on. Sweats formed on Shisui’s forehead as he internally panicked. No one usually noticed him, especially not when he was people-watching. Yet Umino Iruka apparently did. Shit, is he a sensor type?
“Have you had dinner yet?”
What?
“W-What?” Shisui croaked.
“You’ve been up there for a while , jounin-san.”
“How?”
“Hmm? How do I know?”
“Um.”
“I just do.”
“...”
“Well, have you had dinner yet?”
Shisui wanted to ask how did Umino know he was a jounin. He also wanted to ask why the hell was he asking whether he had dinner yet or not. Also, how did he know Shisui had been perching on this branch for hours.
Instead, what he said was, “N-No. Not yet.”
Umino beamed a smile at him and oh, by the kami above, Shisui wondered if one could replace the sun. That smile was too bright for this late in the day.
“I have a bit too much ingredients here, jounin-san. If you’d like, would you join me for dinner?”
Shisui should say “No.” Shisui should tell him to not just invite virtual strangers to his house like fuck, does he make this kind of offer often? Shisui should say “I got enough money for Ichiraku and even if I don’t, the Uchiha compound have a cafeteria.” Yes, surprisingly, the Uchiha compound did have a cafeteria for anyone allowed into the compound. It even opened 24 hours and was manned by the elderlies of the clan.
Shisui wondered if anyone outside of the clan knew how charitable the Uchiha could be. How much love they could just provide. He wondered if the clan had even showed a sliver of that kindness to the people outside of the clan, or maybe they did, but it was brushed off. Maybe they did, but people misunderstood and chalked it up to it being a political move. Konoha was kind of rotten, and Shisui would not be surprised if that did happen. And that was a train of thought Shisui did not want to explore. Not right now, when there was a more pressing matter at hand.
“Um, yes?”
“Excellent! Follow me, please.”
With that, Umino Iruka walked away, springs to his steps. Shisui wondered if he was perpetually cheerful or bashful - because he had seen the younger man blushing quite a number of times per day, or was he perpetually angry. Shisui had been hearing him shouting “Narutooooo!” too many times these past few months, thank you very much.
Shisui followed Umino to his house, which was surprisingly in a nice neighborhood. The house was a simple one, a bit too big for just one person, but still looked cozy and homely from the outside. It got a nice lawn and from what Shisui could spy, a nice backyard as well.
“I’m home!”
Shisui wondered if there was even anyone at the house because the lights were all off.
“Please make yourself at home, jounin-san.”
“Shisui. Uchiha Shishui.”
“Then, Shisui-san, please make yourself at home. I’m gonna be in the kitchen. You’re welcome to stay in the living room or even join me in the kitchen if you’d like.”
With that, Umino left him alone in the genkan, his combat sandals still on. Shisui was at a loss for what to do. He guessed he should really just make himself at home. He spied the shoe rack on the right side of the genkan and saw some indoor slippers. Some of them were small, too small for adults. And it looked worn and cared for, especially the orange one.
Huh. Fancy, that.
With all the knick-knacks Shisui found clattered all around the living room, he knew that Umino had a lot of kids over all the time. Maybe not a lot of kids , he amended. Maybe just a certain few that needed a safe haven. And wasn’t that a wonder? Shisui was well aware of just how much Umino made as a non-active chuunin and as a teacher at the Academy. He then thought of Umino’s parents and their clan.
The Umino clan hailed from Uzushiogakure, and though prestigious there back in the day, it was a very small clan. Shisui recalled what he had read about the clan from the archive and his own clan’s library. The Umino clan had a few real estate properties scattered all over Land of Fire. And Umino Iruka’s parents were jounin who died on duty.
Oh, he’s loaded.
Shisui left that finding behind as Umino suddenly poked his head out from the kitchen’s entrance to talk to him. “Any allergy?”
“No. And I’m not a picky eater.”
Umino beamed another too-bright of a smile at him and said, “That’s great! I think I bought and got too many mushrooms. Let’s fry ’em!”
Fried mushroom?
“I had to ask, you know. Because I heard from my friends some people really hate fried food. Can you believe that? What has fat and cholestrol goodness ever done to those people? Fried food is the best thing in the world, in my opinion. Soft, saggy food is just too mushy and I’m not a toddler.”
Texture aversion. Shisui noted inwardly.
And apparently, Umino’s friends were also friends of Hatake Kakashi. Shisui only knew some other people who didn’t like fried food, but none of them hated it as much as Kakashi. That would explain why he hesitated at the eggplants before. Or maybe not. There were too much variables. He might hesitated because he already got too many mushrooms.
Shisui wondered what did it say about him when the first thing he did whenever he met someone was to analyze them. Is this occupational hazard? He certainly did not remember doing any of this stuff when he was younger, about 5 years ago. Or was it 6? He did not remember much.
He actually did not remember much of his time before he made jounin and ANBU subsequently. And this realization hit him like a fricking kunai to the face, rendering him frozen in the middle of a stranger’s kitchen. Despite the panic at the forefront of his mind, he noted that it was a good thing that he was not in the field at the moment. This kind of thing could have costed him his life otherwise.
“Shisui-san? Are you all right?”
He could not talk, not even croak an answer of sorts. His throat tightened and it was hard to breathe. He could feel his sharingan emerging, Mangekyou forming from the panic that fueled his chakra, guiding it to his eyes. The stress just added into the chakra, moulding it while suppressing it so that it would not be noticeable to anyone. All for the sake of getting a job done without leaving a trace. What job? He was ANBU, and his job involved killing a lot, as of late. Was he seriously going to kill a kindhearted stranger here, in a fit of panic?
“I-I’m fine,” he finally said, having able to manage his panic just enough so that it would not clog his throat anymore. His eyes were another matter entirely, though. He could already feel a headache incoming.
“I see. Can you help me washing these mushrooms, then? I’m going to start on the batter.”
Shisui nodded, and got to work. They did not talk at all. Not when he was washing the mushrooms, not when Umino dropped the mushrooms into the batter and the frying pan right after, not when he was asked to set the table, not even when they sat down and started eating.
Halfway through the meal, Shisui finally felt his eyes turning back to normal while he was in the middle of slurping his udon, though he did not know what to say to the other man still. He had a lot to talk about, to someone, anyone. Yet he could not. How could he, when the lives of the members of his clan, his family, were at stake? When the future of the village was at stake? When any wrong word could mean destruction and doom?
Shisui wondered if the experience he had amassed all these years being an active duty ninja had brought the conclusion that no active duty ninja could be trusted. Because he ended up blurting, “What would you do if your family is about to start something stupid because no one trusts them?”
He waited for a sharp inhale, of a scraping sound of the chair, of chopsticks falling to the table, of anything. Instead, what he heard was, “Well, that depends. What kind of thing made the people distrust your family, to begin with?”
Shisui had no answer to that. Because most of the things that contributed to the current situation were rumors. Freaking rumors without hard evidence. A hearsay from someone who did not even have a friend from the clan, a gossip spouted by a desk-bound ninja who never managed any records involving dead personnel, some vague words about how his clan handled emotions and their own people.
There was a sigh before Shisui heard the scraping sound from the chair, much like the one he expected to come, just moments ago. A few seconds later, maybe minutes, Shisui did not check, Umino came back with two mugs. He handed one of them to Shisui, who took it without even glancing at the other man.
He had expected the mug to be filled with whiskey, or something akin to it. To his surprise, it was hot chocolate. He raised his head to look at the other man, a questioning look on his face.
“That will do you good. It’s a calming drink, to me, anyway.”
Shisui figured that Umino must have had a wonderful family before they were taken away from him. The way the hot chocolate smelled was too nostalgic for it to be made without fondness involved. He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised to find a hint of salt and peppermint candy in it. He started to talk.
The sun rose and with it every colors emerged from slumber. Shisui thought that nothing would look as good as his current view. The sun, the orange sky that looked as though it was dusk instead of dawn, the dew on leaves, steam from the kettle, and Iruka , in front of the stove, making tea.
“Magnolia? Seriously?”
Iruka chuckled and stated, “I need all the sleep I can get. There are lessons to be planned, children to harass, parents to keep away from, all sorts of things. Today is Saturday, so I only get a few hours of alone time since Naruto is with the Nara until the evening.”
“You’re living with Naruto?” Also, children to harass? Is that what they call teaching these days? No wonder the amount of orange. Man, that hurt my eyes.
“Not officially. Apparently, no one can take him in because he will be better off living by himself, unattended and uncared for. For the greater good. Yeah, fat lot that greater good will do to Konoha when he grow older and resented the whole village because of it,” Iruka spat. Shisui noted that his chakra leaked for one brief moment before it was pulled back, leaving Iruka the very picture of content one would find in a dictionary.
So, Shisui really couldn’t be blamed for saying, “We’ll figure something out.” Because really, a picture perfect Iruka was a homicidal Iruka. The more content and happy he looked, the brighter his fire burned. So fiercely it burned that it could outdo a volcanic eruption from the sheer magnificence of his creativity driven from anger alone. Shisui might have known him for scant few hours, but he knew this down pat from the reactions the other man had during his retelling of his woes. Also during their planning of what to do with said woes.
A sly smirk decorated Iruka’s tanned face as he said, “You know what, I’ll take that offer. Once you’re done with your current business, we can plan something about this together. You can even bring someone with you. I don’t think we can do this with just us.”
Indeed, sowing counter gossips laden with truths to combat the hearsays his clan was facing - except for that very true ‘coup d’etat’ - was a job that could easily be done by him and Itachi. Maybe he could rope Obito and the others in as well.
Danzo would be even easier to handle. They have decided during their planning to ditch the ‘no killing’ policy. Well… No, Shisui certainly not be killing any high ranking members of the council, nosiree. Mishaps happens, sometimes. Some people just got luck that was so bad, they choked on mochi while on their break from their very heavy, very important duties as a high ranking member of the council. Shisui would make sure to shed a tear or two for the fallen mochi- no, fallen member of Konoha shinobi. Itachi would surely do the same. After all, he was such a sweet young man who loved everybody in the village equally. Everyone was either Sasuke or not-Sasuke to him, how fair.
“I’ll take my leave now, Iruka. Do tell me if you need anything.” After a slight pause, Shisui added, albeit hesitantly, “Can I come again sometimes?”
Rays of sunlight shone of Iruka’s hair, bathed him in a light so bright, he looked holy under the halo it had casted. Shisui thought that he might have another problem coming, which he absolutely did not want to think about right now. A soft smile graced Iruka’s lips as he said, “I thought we’re friends already, Shisui-san. You can come here whenever you want. Please do tell me first, though. It will be terribly disrespectful to not be at my house when a friend of mine came for a visit.”
“Drop the honorific, please. We’re friends, right?”