Bleeding Heart

"Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one's courage."

-Anais Nin

Daiki rolled over onto his side as his fellow orphans came in to settle for bed, his blood pounding in his ears. He had had the dream again. The one that he’d been having for as long as he could remember, that flashed places, faces, and objects he didn’t recognize. The one that always ended in the void. He felt his breath stutter as his chest grew tight, his hands and feet cold. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, someone help plea- 

Daiki tightened his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He could feel. He could think. His name was Ueno Daiki and his mother used to call him Dai. He liked to eat dango from Mr. Souma’s stand. He was currently reading a book about the Second Shinobi War. He- 

He was alive. 

Daiki fought back tears as he stared into the darkness of the room, exhausted and weak despite having slept all day. He wanted nothing more than to jump up and scream, bounce around- just move. Anything to give his brain more proof that he was alive. Instead, Daiki began the chakra control exercises he found in the library as he waited for the sound of childish giggles to die down and breaths to steady, reflexively throwing up a barrier of happy, content to keep the other children’s emotions at bay. 

He exhaled shakily, flexing his fingers and toes to regain feeling in them. Gathering chakra in his core, he directed it to his arms and then his hands, his legs and then feet. Flushing out any lingering sensations of terror left in his system. Daiki had just finished directing a small portion of his chakra to his left pinky toe when the last child’s breath leveled out in sleep. 

Swiftly and silently, Daiki made his bed before levering himself up onto the window sill. Once on the roof, Daiki waited for his shadow to unwittingly announce its presence by snapping from bored to alert at his appearance. They weren't always there, but they were often enough that Daiki had to be wary. Today his shadow, tentatively and uncreatively dubbed Kuro, was hidden somewhere in the branches of the tree in the orphanage’s back garden. 

Daiki… didn’t mind Kuro. His emotions were quiet and unobtrusive, as though he held them tightly to his chest like a hand of cards. Granted, Daiki could see through the cards, but the attempt to hide them was respectable.

(It wasn’t at all like Daiki’s previous tail, whose attempt to hide felt like whispered chatter in the back of Daiki’s skull. It had annoyed Daiki so much he approached the tail to tell him to quiet down. Daiki never saw that particular tail again.) 

It was always funny to see Kuro’s chakra spike in alarm or curiousity when Daiki attempted something new he learned from the library. Daiki had initially been very worried about Kuro’s presence, to an almost paranoid extent. That had changed a few weeks ago when Daiki broke his arm falling out of a tree, only to wake up the next morning in his bed with two functioning arms. 

And a book titled Tree Walking for Dummies digging into his spine. 

So, no, Daiki didn’t mind Kuro. Fond wasn’t quite the word he would use to describe his feelings towards the shinobi (Because really, what else could Kuro be?), but it was a near thing. Kuro was the closest thing Daiki had to a welcome, familiar presence since- Daiki batted away all the negative emotions that threatened to pull him under. Not tonight. Tonight was a night for celebration. Daiki felt his core fill with excitement as he lightly flared his chakra to get Kuro’s attention before neatly hiding his core under the familiar mimicry of a tanuki’s more unassuming one and jumping off the roof. He stumbled slightly upon landing but darted quickly into the nearest shadow. Hopping the orphanage’s gate, Daiki took off full tilt through the forest, smiling briefly as he felt Kuro give chase. 

Chakra manipulation. Daiki had tree walking down pat after a couple nights of practice. Tonight, he was going to try his hand at water walking, a skill taught to fresh Genin shinobi. He was going to show Kuro that he wasn’t a dummy, that he was capable and smart. Then, after he successfully trounced water walking, he was going to get victory dango from Mr. Souma’s stand. 

Daiki followed a foot trail worn into the underbrush until it opened up into a large clearing bordered on three sides by forest, the fourth by river. A training ground, frequented by ninja if the heavy blanket of stale chakra in the air held any clout. The very soil of the field was permeated with remnant feelings of determination and will. It was very motivating; Daiki could understand why someone would enjoy training here. 

As Daiki approached the river, he felt Kuro settle into the branches of a tree a few feet to his left. A decent vantage point. Good. Daiki wanted him to see this. 

He slipped off his sandals and quickly reviewed everything he had read about chakra control and water walking the past few days. He was ready. Taking a deep breath, Daiki directed a small portion of his chakra to the bottoms of his feet. He took a step forward, planting one foot on the river’s surface as though it were solid land. He breathed out through his nose, adding and taking away chakra to account for the water’s movement. Another step forward. Daiki wobbled for a moment before he settled, his figure bobbing gently in time with the river’s flow. He did it!

 A beatific grin stole his face and he distracted himself from the urge to stick his tongue out in Kuro’s general direction by taking a couple more shaky steps. He almost felt giddy. The water was slippery against his bare, chakra coated feet. It felt like standing on lukewarm ice. Daiki couldn’t help smiling in Kuro’s direction. He’d done it and now Kuro- And now Kuro was leaking some emotion? What was it? Daiki focused for a second because he could have swore it was pride-

Daiki’s inattention cost him his foot hold. As his feet lost purchase on the water’s surface, Daiki came to the realization that he was in the middle of the river… and that he didn’t know how to swim. But that didn’t matter, right? Surely swimming couldn’t be so hard, not harder than climbing a tree without your hands-

Daiki’s head went under and suddenly he was trapped in thenightmare. 

He felt the switch in consciousness immediately. One moment the water was warm, the next it was freezing, and- and his limbs were so heavy. I’m scared. The ocean’s so deep they’ll never find me.He couldn’t see the shore, which way was it to shore? Where was his brother? He was supposed to keep an eye on the pink umbrella… He had to keep swimming but- But what? He was so tired…  It would be okay to rest for a second- Wouldn’t it?

He was sinking, but at least his limbs weren’t so heavy anymore, his whole body blissfully light- 

He was coughing. His lungs were on fire, everything was sore.

He- He didn’t have a brother. His name was Ueno Daiki. And- and his mother used to call him Dai. He liked to eat dango from Mr. Souma’s stand. He was currently reading-

He was alive. 

Daiki felt a sob build up in his burning chest. He was alive and he’d be okay and someone was rubbing his back and whispering the same assurances- Daiki opened his eyes, only to be met with a startlingly bright, white mask. Anbu. The mask reflected the moonlight ominously but even through the pain and his tears Daiki could recognize the evasive purr of Kuro’s chakra, Kuro’s- Green chakra? 

Kuro’s glowing green hands pressed against his chest and it was like cool fingers against a feverish forehead, instant relief. Up until the point Daiki had to pull away to cough up more water. It was coming from his nose, it was gross. If he had the energy to he would run away because if Kuro thought he was an idiot before-

“That should be the last of the water in your lungs. I’m sorry, you are going to be sore for a while. I’m not the best healer.” 

Kuro slowly helped Daiki sit up. He shook his head when Kuro asked if he wanted to go to the hospital. Kuro’s voice was soft. Everything was maddeningly gentle. When Kuro reached to adjust Daiki’s sodden yukata, Daiki brushed off his hand. He was angry , he didn’t know why he was so irritated . No. The feelings in his core didn’t burn and roar. They slid and cowered, slick and rubbery like offal. He took a moment to take stock of his emotions, breathing in harshly through his nose. 

He was scared. He was embarrassed. He wasn’t, however, angry. Much less at Kuro.

“Sorry.” 

Kuro nodded rigidly at his stiff apology. Daiki thought he looked quite like he wanted to disappear. Realizing that was a very real possibility, he reflexively grabbed a fistful of Kuro’s sleeve. It was wet. Kuro was soaked, covered in sand from the shore, his breathing elevated slightly. Beneath the controlled calm he broadcasted there was concern, confusion, affection, and anger. The affection tumbled and skipped like a young child. He suddenly wondered who Kuro was seeing when he looked at Daiki. When he saved him. Who Daiki reminded him of.

“Thank you.” 

It was quiet, but Kuro must have heard him because he nodded again. He gently pried Daiki cold, stiff fingers from his sleeve before disappearing in a whirlwind of leaves. Daiki was left with the feeling that something had simultaneously gone very wrong and very right. 

He sneezed.

-

Itachi didn’t think as he dove into the water when Daiki didn’t immediately resurface.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. He did think. He thought about Sasuke. 

As Daiki’s little body disappeared beneath the water’s surface, Itachi saw Sasuke in his place. The frigid fingers of fear dug harshly into his heart as he hauled Daiki’s limp body to shore, the only thought circling in his brain was whether Sasuke was going to be okay. For a brief moment, he didn’t see Daiki’s smooth locks but Sasuke’s spiked tuffs. He saw a dark blue Uchiha clan shirt instead of Daiki’s customary violet yukata. Then Daiki coughed, and the illusion was broken. 

Itachi found he was no less worried. Water poured from the poor boy’s nose and Itachi soothed him, carefully using healing chakra to coax water from the child’s lungs. The something in Itachi’s chest that was frantic and shaken calmed as he patted the child’s back, the contact assuring both the boy and himself that he was okay.

Daiki wasn’t Sasuke. Itachi knew this. They were eerily alike at times, in their fierce determination to improve and eagerness to train, but the similarities stopped there. 

Maybe it was because Daiki was the same age as his precious little brother that sometimes when Itachi followed the boy he didn't just see a charge to watch but someone to protect. Maybe it was something about Daiki himself. Itachi rubbed Daiki’s back in soothing circles as the boy made a valiant effort not to cry. The pride he had felt when Daiki stood triumphantly on the water’s surface was just as real and fierce as when Sasuke handed him a picture he’d drawn of their family this morning. As Daiki shivered against Itachi’s side, Itachi wondered just when in the weeks that Itachi had been watching him that the boy stopped being just another mission and became something more. 

He watched Daiki shuffle sedately back to the orphanage in silent contemplation. He nodded resolutely to himself as he felt something settle in his chest. Something right. 

He wouldn’t mind having another little brother. 

-

It was a week before Daiki could bring himself to return to the riverside. 

It wasn’t him that was scared. No. Something in him, the part of him that didn’t abide by logic, was terrified. 

Daiki sat in the wet sand of the shoreline, errant pebbles clacking beneath him as he shifted his weight. Already he could feel his pulse pick up, his palms becoming clammy in fear. He knew the moment he touched the water, he would lose himself. That- that wasn’t okay. He was a being of logic. This fear was irrational, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his. He didn’t know who was so deeply afraid of the water, but he did know it wasn’t Ueno Daiki. Or at least wasn’t going to be. 

Daiki left his yukata folded on the sand and stood at the edge of the river, letting it lap at his toes. He kept his eyes open. Daiki took a step forward into the water, the feeling unsettlingly reminiscent of his disastrous attempt at water walking. A pink umbrella flashed across his vision. He took a deep breath in, willing himself to stay in the present. He took several more steps in quick succession and the water rose just above his knees. 

He was shaking, and it had little to do with the water’s temperature or the light summer breeze. 

He had to keep the pink umbrella in sight, his head above the water- 

Daiki shook his head side to side violently, as though he could dislodge the thought, shake the unwelcome and foreign feelings from his skull. The water climbed to his waist, and Daiki felt the urge to scream for help rise grossly in his chest, fear rearing its head ferally like a rabid thing.

No. No no no. NoNoNoNONO- He turned to head back to shore- 

And then Kuro was there, standing stonily next to Daiki’s discarded yukata. Daiki felt many things at once, the primary feeling surging in his chest being confusion , right next to the complimentary feeling of embarrassment that always came with Kuro witnessing him fail at something. And he was failing, wasn’t he? Heading back to shore-

“You can do it.”

Daiki paused, shock causing him to momentarily forget about the water flowing past his thighs. Then the fear returned full force, a slick, burning, gurgling sensation rising in the back of his throat.

“I can’t.” The words hurt coming out just as much as they hurt sitting in his chest. The truth, the shame of them was crushing-

“You can.” Kuro crouched, sandals whispering softly against the sand. 

Kuro didn’t, couldn’t understand the hideous feeling roiling thickly in Daiki’s chest, the way his breath hitched in fear each time a wave lightly ghosted over his hip-

“What’s your favorite food?” Kuro suddenly asked. 

Daiki paused once more, brows furrowing in genuine confusion at the random question. 

“What?”

“Mine is dango,” Kuro said as he stood and walked forward into the water, stepping slowly and broadcasting his movements to show he meant no harm. When he was no more than a foot away, he offered Daiki his hand. 

Daiki took it. 

“I like dango, too.” 

Kuro’s hand wasn’t much larger than Daiki’s. For a moment, he wondered just how old Kuro was. He had never really thought about it before. Kuro was about as tall as some of the Genin that weeded the orphanage’s garden, and Daiki knew they were about twelve. Daiki followed as Kuro returned to the depth Daiki had reached before he retreated. 

“I like the dango from Mr. Souma’s stand.” 

He had never had the dango from the popular and better known Dango Shop as it was only open during the day, but he was sure even if he had he would like Mr. Souma’s dango more. 

“I’ve never had it, we’ll have to try it sometime.” 

Daiki then registered that the water was at his chin, and he was briefly floored when the realization didn’t send him into hysterics. The feeling of fear had completely abated. As he searched for it, he found it shriveled beneath a curious feeling that wholly encompassed his core, one that was being fed by Kuro’s presence. He prodded the feeling. Safe, it murmured. Protected. It filled him with soothing warmth, a parental like presence that banished monsters from closets and under beds.

Daiki sat with Kuro safely on the shore, watching as the river drifted lazily by. Fear sat once more in his chest, but it was a weak thing, less potent, declawed.

“Thank you, Kuro.” 

“Itachi.” 

Daiki started in surprise, almost certain he had imagined the name that just escaped his companion’s mouth. He tested it on his tongue.

“Thank you, Itachi-san.”

“Itachi.” Daiki didn’t even try to fight the grin that stole his face.

“Itachi.”