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Being a father is never something Fugaku felt he is good at. Sure, he meets the basic criteria. He helped conceive them. He loves them. He provides for them. But knowing the true ins and outs of their personalities is beyond difficult. It is an insurmountable task. Why it feel this way is beyond him, for it is not due to a lack of interest, nor is it due to a lack of trying.
It is just difficult .
A calming breeze brushes through the open sitting area as Fugaku reaches across the table for his third cup of sake. The comforting chatter of his two fully grown son’s fills the open-air room in which they sat.
It is the eve of Sasuke getting married, but his lack of knowledge of how to tackle such a situation from a fatherly standpoint left him stumped. What is there to do or to say in such an unstructured situation? There is no task that needs to be executed nor is there an agenda. Just a big empty room and his two sons.
Did such a feeling imply his failure and their lack of bonding over the years?
Then there is him. The fool of the bunch, and yet one of the most formidable young men the Uchiha had produced.
Uchiha Shishi. A true genius.
“How many have you two had now?” Shisui calls out as he rushes back into the room, a fresh bottle of sake in hand and a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “I bet my favourite kunai that I can out drink you two fools tonight!”
Brow raised, Fugaku exhales heavily as his unofficially adopted son, for all intents and purposes, charges through the room. His language is informal as it always is in the presence of his sons; proof of their kinship. But his sloppy footwork is proof of something else.
Suddenly a loud smack sounds through the air as the young man trips over, sending the bottle flying.
Correction.
Uchiha Shishi. A true genius and infamous lightweight .
Itachi’s eyes flash crimson as he jolts to his feet. An arm stretches upwards instinctively despite his gaze remaining fixed on his childhood friend resting at his feet nursing his grazed chin. “I think you have already had more than enough, Shisui,” he notes calmly as he takes his place back on the tatami floor once more, placing the bottle out of sight behind his back.
Eyes rolling, Shisui groans inwardly and turns his attention to the younger of the siblings. “Come on Sasuke. It’s your big night, you want to drink, right?”
“Not particularly,” Sasuke replies, brow raised in judgement. “Sakura wouldn’t exactly be impressed if I had a hangover tomorrow on our wedding day.”
“Then what is the point of tonight exactly?” Shisui grumbles as he plonks himself heavily down in between Sasuke and Itachi, frowning. “To sit here and talk about the same things we always do?”
Jaw clenched, Sasuke exhales heavily, his dark eyes narrowing as he clearly fights back the urge to hit him with a barrage of insults. The most straightforward comments work just as well after all. “You do realise you weren’t invited, right?”
Shisui laughs once more, swiping a hand playfully in Sasuke’s direction. “We all know this would not be a celebration without me. I am doing you a favour little Sasuke.”
Flinching, Sasuke stares at him blankly. “I’d hate to know what you sabotaging the night would look like then…”
“Enough!” Fugaku orders, his voice cutting through the air. The urge to slap some sobriety into Shisui is strong. Perhaps too strong for Fugaku’s liking. But there is no doubt that the young man had a point.
Fugaku’s eyes dart across to Sasuke as he silently shoots daggers at Shishi’s head. Disrespect is never something his youngest ever had time for, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that respect.
Without fail, Shisui exceeds his limits every time sake is on offer and regresses into a childish shadow of himself. Someone that Fugaku has considered booting out into the cold dank streets of Konohagakure on many occasions.
But Mikoto will never permit such a thing. Not now, not ever. In her eyes, he is their son , and as such, she expects that he is treated with the same level of respect.
Mikoto made it her mission to make up for the love he is so cruelly denied by his birth parents.
If they did not want to care for him that is fine. Heartbreaking, but fine. For as soon as he steps into their household, he is home .
Shisui rubs his hands together, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. “So what’s the plan? Strippers? Maybe a good old nudey run down the main road?”
Silence hangs heavily in the air as the three other men stare at Shisui in pure unadulterated horror.
“You’re deranged,” Sasuke retorts bluntly, arching a brow. “We aren’t that type of family.”
Stifling a laugh, Itachi lifts his cup of sake up to his lips only to pause for a moment. “You aren’t wrong. I don’t think Father even gave us the talk or taught us how to fish.”
“That would’ve been fun. But why would he?” Sasuke remarks, flicking his head in his sibling’s direction. “Even now he is hardly ever home.”
Huffing, Fugaku crosses his arms, his lips pressed together tightly as the banter of his children rings through the air. Their harsh comments stung. Did they forget he is present?
He is a busy man, his job is a demanding one with a significant amount of responsibility falling on his shoulders. But he always did his best to ensure that they didn’t miss out on much during their childhood. Their mother was present rather than going on missions, and other clan members stepped in to ensure they were supported during his absence.
They can’t resent him for the past, surely?
“Fishing? You’re moaning about fishing?” Fugaku muses, brows furrowed as he looks across at Itachi who shrugs instinctively in response. “Don’t act so hard done by, other members of the clan were here to support you both while I worked.”
Jaw clenched, Sasuke huffs loudly. “Of course you don’t get it,” he notes, eyes rolling as he reaches for his cup of sake, downing its contents uncharacteristically much to Shisui’s elation. “Did you consider for even a moment, that maybe we just wanted to spend time with our Father?” he adds, irritation dripping from his words as he slams his empty cup down on his knee.
Fugaku’s expression softens, his gaze fixed on Sasuke’s irked expression. “That’s it?” he mutters in shock. It seems too simple. Surely there was more to it? More that they wanted as children as he always believed they did.
Itachi sighs, a lopsided, knowing smile spreading across his lips. “Not everything is complicated Father,” he states simply. “We just wanted your attention beyond us both being ninja. We trained hard because that was the extent of our time with you. Or at least that is my reason.”
A pang of guilt ishes over the older man as his arms uncurl, hands resting on each knee as he stares at his eldest in disbelief. After all this time of believing they were fine, it is quite the revelation.
Fugaku slowly rises to his feet, tabi socks slipping out from under his yukata as he walks towards the doorway, deep in thought.
“Where is he going?” Shisui whispers to Itachi, clearly confused by his actions. “Hey, old man! Where are you going?” he asks again, turning to look across at Fugaku who promptly stopped dead in his tracks.
Fugaku stares at the doorway, his eyes refusing to meet Shisui’s. “There is still time to rectify my failures as both a parent and a man. Tonight you shall all learn the art of fishing,” he states, ignoring the rude remark.
“What?” they all respond in disbelief, shock marking Sasuke's face, amusement present on Itachi’s and horror gripping Shisui’s.
“I thought we were gonna have a bachelor party, not some DIY class,” Shisui laughs loudly, slapping his hands down on his knees as he turns to look at Sasuke.
But before he is able to continue his train of thought, Fugaku storms up to him, smacking him over the back of the head.
“My sons wished they spent time with me. So before my youngest child leaves this family home, I will teach him how to prepare a fishing line so he can teach his future children,” Fugaku growls, his eyes stern as he stares down at Shisui daringly. “Is this an issue?”
The room falls silent, the rattling of cicadas in the courtyard the only sound for long moments before the shuddering of the door sounds from the other end of the room.
Mikoto smiles, poking her gleeful face around the bend of the doorway. “Now I know I was under strict instructions to stay out of things this evening, but I heard you mention fishing,” she notes, stepping into the room, three slender traditional fishing poles nestled in her arms, each with a long sheer string wrapped securely around its mast.
In an instant, Fugaku’s expression changes entirely, a modest smile tickling at the corners of his ever stoic lips as he approaches his wife. “Impeccable timing as always,” he muses softly, hands brushing tenderly across Mikoto’s as he accepts the fishing poles. “If possible, can you try to find the container of hooks?”
Mikoto grins as she looks up at her husband. “You mean this one?” she chimes as she pulls a thin metal container out of the front of her obi, proceeding to wave it between them. “One step ahead of you, Husband.”
Fugaku sighs contently. “Thank you,” comes his reply. A hand ruffles the top of her hair as he used to when they were children for a fleeting moment, before proceeding to swoop down to her hand, accepting the object in question.
Cheeks flushed, Mikoto peeks around her husband at her family seated on the floor. “I have been waiting for the day you will use the Edo-wazao rods together,” she muses with a gentle smile. “Please be gentle with them. These are all family heirlooms we have been tasked with protecting.”
“There is no need to be concerned, Mikoto,” Fugaku replies. “I will be watching them like a hawk.”
“They are just bamboo rods are they not?” Sasuke inquires, brow raised as he eyes the fishing poles nestled in his Father’s arms.
Eyes widening, Fugaku turns to face the boys. Lost for words.
Mikoto gawks at him for short moments as silence weighs heavily in the room. “I think I’ll leave this to you my husband,” she half laughs, her hand tracing lovingly across his shoulder as she turns to leave.
Fugaku clears his throat as he suppresses the overwhelming urge to snap. “No they are not just bamboo rods,” he notes bitterly as he walks forward, carefully handing each of the young men a rod and hook each. “Each of these rods is worth –”
A loud crack sounds through the air as Shisui whips his rod towards Itachi behind Fugaku’s back only to be blocked by Itachi’s empty sake cup.
“… over seventy thousand yen. But given these are antiques it would be fair to say they would be valued at a considerably higher price,” Fugaku finishes with a piercing glare, his sharingan flashing warningly across his eyes as he grits his teeth. “Behave, or so help you…”
Shisui swallows heavily and carefully presses his rod’s base against the flooring. “Sorry!”
Itachi ejects a sigh and lifts his rod in line with his eyes, his attentive gaze raking up its length. “I assume it is much more complex than it appears?” he muses, fingertips tracing up to the delicate tip, poking it gently causing the line to bow.
“Of course it is,” Sasuke counters as he stares across at his older sibling. “When is anything Father does simple? It would be too boring for him.”
Fugaku sits down heavily, a tired smile teasing the corners of his lips as he looks across at the three pairs of eager eyes raking over his features. “Traditional knots require one’s full concentration. No Sharingan use. I want to see you try your best without kekei genkai.”
The three younger Uchiha exchange perplexed glances, none of them keen to pipe up and argue his unusual conditions. It isn’t worth the argument.
The drone of Fugaku’s voice carries through the large room, confident smirks quickly evolving into frowns as they set to work on their knots.
It is a simple evening at best. Uneventful and relatively calm all things considered.
Yet the smiles that creep across their faces as they turned to face Fugaku gripping their perfect knots stir something deep in his soul. Bringing his mind and heart back to the beginning.
In that moment, all he can see are three little boys. Each filled with hope, and an untameable force that burned within. The will of fire.