Dear Heart
"And suddenly you know: it's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings."
- Meister Eckhart
The second hand nerves and tension from the children surrounding him danced across his skin like an army of the creepiest crawlies imaginable. Apparently no amount of exposure therapy to the crowds on the streets of Konoha could prepare him for the tumultuous emotions of a tide of children and their parents standing before their Hokage.
In the light of the day, Itachi cut a very different figure. In the night his stoic nature lent him to be imposing, his Anbu mask cementing a rather intimidating visage. Standing beside his brother a few feet away, Itachi looked like a child. A very tired child whose face betrayed none of his emotions, which for once were rabbiting away under his skin. There was a great deal of agitation and worry, tight like sunburned skin, traced with a complementary undercurrent of anger, as though adding the warmth to the burn.
Daiki watched Itachi adjust his grip on his younger brother’s hand and felt a rare wave of guilt for using his ability, as though he had been snooping through something private. He supposed most emotions were private things, though. As he pulled himself out of his ponderings he realized he had missed a propaganda filled speech designed to manipulate his little orphan heart’s longing for acceptance and belonging into loyalty to a deceitfully grandfatherly looking military dictator.
Pity.
Daiki didn’t bother to clap along with the crowd, simply raising his hands a few inches apart in front of his chest so that it looked like he was doing so. So focused was he on not clapping, he didn’t realize someone was sneaking up behind him until it was too late.
“Umeboshi!”
Only one person called him that. A chest collided with his back and arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip. In his shock, his hands touched.
Ah. He failed.
Did one clap count as clapping?
He wasn’t sure.
He greeted Naruto with a light squeeze to one of the arms around his middle, feeling the kid’s whirlpool of emotions calm slightly.
“Umeboshi, which dude do ya think is our sensei, huh?” Naruto pointed over Daiki’s shoulder to the figures standing to the Hokage’s right, presumably academy instructors.
“Whichever one looks most like a dolphin, I guess.” He felt more than heard Naruto snicker, the vibration buzzing through both of their chests.
He held in his inner nag that wanted to tell Naruto pointing was rude and not to call their sensei “dude”. Another time, when there weren’t several heads turned in their- Naruto’s- direction and openly scowling. When he wasn’t trying to distract Naruto from people pulling their children closer, from avoiding them like lepers. He dragged his protective happy shield over to cocoon Naruto as well and felt the boy perk up even further.
One of the unhappy faces cast their way belonged to none other than Uchiha Sasuke. Daiki couldn’t pick Sasuke’s emotions out of the crowd due to distance and unfamiliarity with the boy, but from the occasional glare he’d sent Daiki’s way throughout the assembly, it wasn’t hard to make an educated guess as to what they might be. The other boy had spent the majority of last night emitting waves of jealousy and dislike towards Daiki, nasty faces when he thought Itachi wasn’t looking. The boy had “accidentally” spilt a puddle of soy sauce on the table that had soaked the sleeve of Daiki’s yukata, steaming when Daiki didn’t react. His plan had backfired completely when Mikoto had noticed the stain and lent him something of Sasuke’s to wear while she got it out.
It was cute.
“Gramps sure blabbed a bunch just now. Did ya catch anything he said?”
Speaking of cute.
“Not a word.”
They found their classroom with relative ease, taking seats in the back, closest to the windows. Daiki watched Itachi say goodbye to Sasuke at the door with blank eyes and a heavy heart. Itachi had to pretend he didn’t know Daiki in public. Daiki technically wasn’t supposed to know Itachi at all. If he was in the habit of lying to himself, he would say it didn’t affect him, that it wasn’t a big deal.
(It wasn’t a big deal, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.)
Daiki slid paper and a pencil over to Naruto when he noticed the other boy hadn’t brought any materials and mimed taking notes as Iruka-sensei called for the attention of any lingering parents at the front of the room. The seat to his right was suddenly filled in a tangle of limbs and a soft dog yip.
There was a boy with a puppy on his head.
Why not?
The boy had a rather feral, slightly mean look to him, but he read as a mixture of nervous, eager, and playful. Daiki knew the signature of a mischief maker when he saw it, what with the Chief of Mischief sitting to his left. Being boxed in between the two boys was a sensation similar to being shaken excitedly back and forth.
Oh wait. He placed a hand over the one gripping his shoulder.
“Yes, Naruto?”
“Hey, hey, Umeboshi, what am I supposed to write down?”
“Anything you don’t wanna forget.” He heard Naruto make a thoughtful noise as Puppy Boy leaned in with a curious look that softened his features.
“Is your name Umeboshi?”
No, his mother didn’t name him after a food. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
“Ueno Daiki.” He stated, pointing to himself. Me caveman. Me awkward. He threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Uzumaki Naruto.” Naruto tacked on an enthusiastic “Believe it!” to the end of their introduction. Puppy Boy wasn’t phased, simply grinning lopsidedly. His teeth were fascinatingly pointy.
“Inuzuka Kiba. Why does he call you Umeboshi?”
Naruto leaned past Daiki with a serious face, as though he was about to impart grave wisdom.
“He looks sweet, but he’s not. Also, his hair’s purple.”
Kiba solemnly nodded as though this made all the sense in the world.
Daiki resigned himself to his fate and slid his new friend a sheet of paper and pencil at his sheepish, fanged grin.