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A bell rang softly in the silence as the door opened beneath the thick white letters spelling out Ballet School on the brick wall above head. Itachi stepped in, holding onto his mother’s hand with a vice grip. To the left, a series of wooden cubbies lined the wall. A boy with long white hair and green-blue eyes glanced up as he tucked his shoes away. “This is where you’ll put your shoes.” Mikoto pointed at the shelves. Itachi slipped his tiny sneakers off and set them down in one of the cubes, then followed his mother down the hall.
“Do you want me to go in with you?” She crouched down at eye level with Itachi just outside the door. He hesitated for a moment, then let out a firm little, “No.” Mikoto nodded and smiled and gave his chubby cheek a little pinch.
“I’ll be back this evening,” she assured him. Itachi nodded and took a step towards the door. “Oh, and Itachi?” He turned back. “Do try to make some friends,” she said with a smile, and he nodded again before heading into the room. “Please try,” she repeated under her breath, watching Itachi wait patiently with his hands wrapped around the blue straps of his backpack until the teacher, a woman with short black hair, turned around and noticed him.
“Are you my new student?” She asked brightly, squatting down beside him. Again, Itachi nodded mutely. “What’s your name, sweetie?” She cupped a hand over her ear and leaned closer to hear him over the babble of the other kids in the room. “Well, Itachi, welcome to your first ballet class. I’m Shizune, and I think you’re going to have a great time with us.” From the doorway, Mikoto gave Shizune a little wave and a smile, and with a swish of black hair, she was gone. Shizune turned to face the class and clapped her hands loudly.
“Good morning, everyone! Line up, please. I have a very important announcement.” The kids fell silent and lined up along the wall, and Itachi felt several pairs of curious, wide eyes land on him. “We’re welcoming a new student today. This is Itachi.” Itachi’s eyes panned over the line of tiny dancers; the white-haired one was among them, between a smiling boy with wiry black hair and one with pale blue eyes and hair so vibrantly red it almost looked artificial. The smiling boy gave him a little wave and Itachi felt himself holding onto that kind smile like an anchor in a sea of staring strangers. He was sure he’d never seen this boy before, but the excitement on his face made Itachi feel he was reuniting with someone he’d once met and forgotten. Shizune was saying more, but Itachi didn’t look away from the boy until he heard his name once more.
“Itachi, why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself? Do you have any siblings, do you have a favorite color or food?” Itachi wetted his chapped lips nervously.
“I’m having a baby brother soon,” he said quietly. “I like cabbage and I like the color red.”
“How exciting!” Shizune’s voice carried over the sound of one of the bratty little boys saying ‘ew, cabbage?’ with his nose plugged. “Shisui, you like the color red, right? You’ve got a red backpack.” The curly-haired boy nodded fervently. “Itachi, why don’t you line up there beside Shisui? Shisui, raise your hand.” The boy’s arm swung up in the air excitedly and Itachi felt a jolt of relief as he filed in line beside this welcoming stranger. Shisui looked down at him, hands clasped behind his back, and offered a smile so wide his dark eyes nearly closed and his cheeks were surely cramping.
An hour later, Shizune clapped her hands to signal break time and the kids scattered off to sit by their bags. Itachi sat down a ways away from all the rest, feeling somewhat like an intruder still, and rummaged around in his lunchbox. A little further down the wall, Shisui looked over from where he was seated in between two other boys. He stood up.
“Sit a little closer, we don’t bite. Well, Gaara might, actually.” Itachi looked up as Shisui plopped down beside him with a smile and watched as he continued peeling the little clementine in his hand. “I like oranges,” Shisui said abruptly, to no one in particular. So Itachi split the orange in half and extended one small hand in silence.
When Itachi wandered out to the small lobby that evening, he found Shisui sitting on a table pushed against the wall. “Everyone else already left,” he pointed out, swinging his legs off the edge of the table. Itachi glanced around. It was true; his little sneakers were the last remaining pair on the wooden shelf.
“You’re still here.”
“My daddy owns the studio. I go home with him after he’s closed up. He wants me to take over the business when I grow up.” Itachi crouched down on the carpet and slipped his feet into his shoes. He’d just started learning how to tie them. “So, why are you here so late?” Shisui watched as Itachi’s face screwed up with laser-sharp focus. He looped the lace around his finger slowly and his lips sank into a frown. Loop it around…His eyebrows furrowed. “Do you need help?” Shisui hopped off the desk.
“No,” Itachi said flatly, but his little fingers had ceased moving by now and he merely sat curled up on the floor, not wanting to admit defeat.
“I’ll do one and you do the other. You were off to a good start.” Shisui knelt down beside him and picked up the laces on the left shoe. Itachi watched and copied as Shisui slowly tied the laces. “Make a bunny ear.” He waggled the little loop. “Wrap around…pull it through…and now it’s two bunny ears.” Itachi glared down at the malformed bunny ears he’d tied. “You’ll get it,” Shisui said cheerfully.
The silver bell rang as Mikoto pushed the glass door open. Itachi trotted over to her side, his sneakers lighting up brightly, and gave Shisui a little wave before they left.
“How was your first day?” Itachi wrapped his little fingers around his mother’s hand.
“Good,” he chirped.
“Yeah? Did you make a new friend?” Itachi nodded.
“Shisui.”
~
The foyer light was on, blaring through the entire house and seeping beneath closed doors. Fugaku stepped out of his darkened office and blinked at the harsh light.
“Itachi? What are you doing?” With a hand shielding his eyes, he watched his six-year old son sitting in a tiny ball on the hardwood floor with the light shining on his scrunched up face like a spotlight. Wrap around…pull it through…bunny ears. He pulled the laces taut and looked up at his father. “You’re getting better at that.” Itachi pulled the knots out and started over, retying and untying and retying his laces again and again beneath his father’s watchful gaze until Fugaku hoisted him up off the floor by his armpits and flicked the light off. “Shoes come off by the door,” he bade, setting Itachi down on his feet and pointing to the shelf he’d disregarded. “Next time, turn on a lamp instead.” Itachi tucked his shoes away obediently and padded into the kitchen on his bare feet.
Mikoto was standing behind the kitchen island, fitting Tupperware into Itachi’s lunchbox for the next day. Her black hair, a shade darker than her son’s, brushed the knot of her green apron. Itachi’s fingers curled around the granite countertop and he stretched up on his toes to watch his lunch being made. Mikoto had a black sharpie in one hand and a clementine in the other. Hiding the fruit from Itachi’s curious gaze, she drew something on the peel before tucking it into the lunchbox.
The marker cap was replaced, the metals clasps on the lunchbox snapped shut, and she headed out to the living room, ruffling Itachi’s hair as she passed. Itachi stayed there, his chin pressed to the cool countertop, staring at the bowl of fruit in the middle. Stretching up as far as he could on his toes, he reached out and wrapped his hand around a second clementine.
The following afternoon, he waved goodbye to his mother and slipped his shoes into one of the wooden cubbies. The boy with pale eyes introduced himself— in a voice drier than the desert he supposedly hailed from— as Gaara, and they walked side by side in silence to the dance room. Shisui was already inside, pulling on little black slippers. Itachi set his bag down beside Shisui’s and filed in line at his side. Something about his very presence seemed to radiate warmth, and Itachi found himself straying towards it whenever the opportunity arose.
Halfway through practice, Shizune clapped her hands once again to signal break. Itachi sat closer to the rest of them today, still at Shisui’s side on the end of the line. And when Shisui frowned down at his empty lunchbox and complained that he was hungry, Itachi stuck his hand out, offering Shisui his extra orange, the one with a little smiley face drawn on it in black ink.
Weeks passed in a similar fashion. Fugaku wondered aloud why they were going through clementines twice as fast. Itachi and Shisui were practically joined at the hip by now, sticking close to each other’s sides when they were together and begging their parents to drop them off at the other’s house whenever they weren’t.
A few months after Itachi’s first class, another new student joined them. She was loud and chatty, with kind gray eyes and hair redder and longer than Itachi had ever seen before.
“Why don’t you line up on the end beside Shisui? Shisui, raise your hand.” Itachi watched Shisui’s hand fly into the air and a big smile appeared on his face. The girl, Kushina, smiled back and lined up at his side and the two went on talking. And they never really stopped. Where Itachi was always content to listen, Kushina talked all the time. As it turned out, she and Shisui had a lot in common. The three of them sat together during breaks, Shisui and Kushina going on and on endlessly, Itachi surveying the newcomer and trying to figure out what it was he didn’t like about her. Maybe she was too talkative. But Shisui talked just as much. She was always smiling, but then so was Shisui. Her hair was an almost obnoxious shade of red. But Shisui loved red.