Chapter Text
Fugaku wipes the blood streaming from his eyes. If he were a more honest man he could admit that there are tears mixed in, too. Someone shoves a handful of tissues at him and sits on his left, prodding at his injured arm.
“I don’t know what the fuck just happened back there, but you saved both our asses,” Tsume says lowly.
(Fugaku often wonders where his teammate got off with such a foul mouth. No one had been surprised when little Hana-chan’s first spoken words were to call her father a bastard. Fugaku had been inclined to agree, but had also been quick to keep her playdates with Itachi short and supervised.)
The memory fails to make him smile or stop the shaking in his hands, long having let his sword clatter to the ground. Rota is dead. He’s dead and it’s all Fugaku’s fault. What will he tell his wife? His daughter?
“Don’t go and start with that shit,” Tsume whispers. “He wouldn’t want us to be all-,” she pauses, sniffling suspiciously, “worked up about him. You need to see a medic.”
“I’m fine,” he chokes out, hardly convincing himself.
“Yeah, look, I know I don’t get to know all the Uchiha family secrets but I’m pretty damn sure your eyes aren’t supposed to bleed like that. You’re hurt, Fugaku. Don’t throw yourself back out there and get killed.”
He begins to argue when he catches Tsume’s blurry eye. Either there’s still blood in his or his teammate is crying. Tsume never cries.
“I’m not losing both of you today,” she adds fiercely, gripping his shoulder. “Now get up or I’ll carry you there myself.”
Somehow, he finds the strength to get to his feet, swaying until Tsume swings in to support him. She chatters through the journey, a tell of her nerves, and he feels guilt gnawing at him, knowing he’s leaving her alone on the battlefield. The admittance of injury had made him realize just how badly he’s been hurt.
The med-nin declare him unfit for duty, and he’s sent packing back to Konoha. He’s not sure if he should be thankful or fearful.
His father is not an understanding man.
Nor is the Uchiha council of elders. He’s supposed to be making them proud.
He stands before the council, fresh from his excruciating trip back home, scolded and questioned like a child, as if he wasn’t the next clan head, or a jonin, or anything special at all.
“Did anyone see it?” His grandmother demands, clicking her tongue at him impatiently.
He studies the old woman, but answers quickly. “My teammate. She didn’t know what it meant.”
“See that she never does, Fugaku. Awakening the Mangekyo is too important to share it with outsiders.”
“It doesn’t leave this room, Fugaku,” his father says gravely.
Fugaku wishes for nothing more in this moment than to go home to his wife and child and sleep, but first, before he is a husband or a father or a regular human being, he is his eyes, his power.
No matter who’s using it.
By the end of the war, Fugaku is a hero. He stands among the other stars, all gathered in the Hokage tower, a constellation of unfathomable skill to the regular shinobi. Today, the Sandaime announces his retirement. Fugaku can’t mistake the reason this group is gathered here.
Quietly, the council must have been making decisions about who will take Sarutobi’s place. If he belonged to any other clan, he might have been flattered.
The Sannin group together, of course, and he stands to the side with Namikaze Minato. Their wives are good friends, and each uncomfortable dinner double-date gets easier, one after the next. He’s found that he and Minato have much in common with each other, and if he was asked, Fugaku knows Minato would count him as a friend.
He feels nothing but contempt for the moment. They’ve called him here to rub his nose in their own biases, to wave in his face something he can never have, no Uchiha can ever have, just to say they included him.
“Minato will be our Yondaime,” Sarutobi says confidently, the blow quick and decisive. Minato looks to Fugaku apologetically, with pity in his eyes that makes him sick. Danzo shares a similar expression with Orochimaru, who eyes his teacher angrily.
Only Jiraiya seems pleased. “Well! Now that that’s settled, I’ll be going.”
“Yes, I believe I will as well, Sensei,” Orochimaru sneers. “Uchiha-san, Shimura-san. Yondaime.”
Fugaku, in his barely contained disappointment, stays for a few minutes to congratulate Minato through gritted teeth, then takes his own leave.
Mikoto is waiting for him, Itachi on her hip. His son’s face lights up in delight at the sight of his father and Fugaku can’t help but feel some of the anger drain from him.
“Tou-san!”
Fugaku drops to one knee to receive an armful of toddler, hugging Itachi tightly. Mikoto meets his eye, but he shakes his head at her. She frowns knowingly, but their small family has a nice evening anyway.
He offers to put Itachi down for the night- not that his son needs it, Itachi has always been a highly independent child. The elders call him a prodigy. Fugaku is inclined to agree.
If he burns down the village in rage, if he stops fighting, there will be nothing for Itachi to inherit, nowhere for him to grow and thrive. He thinks he finally understands his own father’s pushing and training, looking at his own son sleeping peacefully. In the next generation, there is always hope.
“Itatchi. I will give you everything.”
“Fourteen years in the future, I used a time-travel seal.”
Uchiha Fugaku is a man of few words, but that has never meant that he’s been one to just sit there and listen to nonsense. He balks at Jiraiya.
“I don’t have time for games, Hokage-sama.”
“It’s not a game,” Jiraiya says quietly. “It’s the truth. There are things you need to know, Fugaku.”
The things he “needs to know” are a steadily growing, improbable list of events that Jiraiya cannot possibly believe himself. Every few minutes he turns to Shikaku, hoping, praying even, that he’ll find some understanding there, but the jonin commander nods along like it makes sense.
“In the end, the Uchiha were slaughtered. Every last man, woman, and child, except for your son, Sasuke. It was said Itachi left him alive so he could grow strong enough to join him.”
For a moment, the world turns inside out. “You insult me, Jiraiya,” Fugaku spits. He’s seeing red, blinding anger clouding his judgement. “Why would my son slaughter his entire clan?”
“Because he was asked to.”
The room spins. Itachi? The child who had cried and begged not to kill mere insects as a child, capable of the mass murder of his own clan? His own family? Fugaku has not been a soft father to his children, of course not, but would he have ever fostered such a hatred in Itachi that it exploded into such violence?
Itachi is his future. Not just the future of the clan. Not just the future of the village. Fugaku’s sons are hope that the world will improve, even when the life they are destined to lead makes that seem doubtful. His own death, he could come to terms with. The thought of Itachi’s, of Sasuke’s, takes his breath away.
“You’re lying,” he tells Jiraiya, and before he comprehends what he’s doing, the Hokage and Shikaku are under a genjustu of prosecutable offense, and Fugaku is shunshining out of the building.
Truth or fiction, it doesn’t matter. He will do anything to prevent the future.
He wakes up to Naruto’s heavy breathing right next to his ear. Blearily, Jiraiya cranes his neck down to get a better look at the toddler, who is fast asleep, sprawled over his chest in a mess of chubby little limbs.
He must have been absolutely exhausted last night to sleep through Naruto climbing all over him. Lately, getting him to sleep in his own room in his own bed has been an uphill battle and he’s been waking Jiraiya up in the middle of the night by sneaking into his. He shouldn’t be too surprised- even as a teenager Naruto stuck to him like glue.
It annoyed the hell out of him back then, but sometimes when he looks at his apprentice’s younger counterpart he feels a pang of longing to hear Naruto’s bellowing voice shouting “Ero-sennin, ero-sennin!” embarrassingly through a crowded market just one more time.
He sits up, carefully untangling Naruto’s arms from his neck, and scrubs a hand over his face. He feels completely drained despite over twelve hours of sleep. Yesterday’s talk with Fugaku had gone, well, he’s not sure if poorly is really enough to describe it.
Fugaku had been suspicious of the meeting before it had even begun, trying to decline the request and have Shikaku removed from the room. Once Jiraiya had finally convinced him to sit down and listen, he’d actually laughed at the mention of a time-altering seal.
That hadn’t lasted long.
For all of their reputation being heartless bastards, Jiraiya’s never seen anyone feel more than the Uchiha do. When he’d retold the events of the Uchiha massacre, Fugaku had rejected the story completely as soon as Itachi’s name was mentioned, snapping angrily at him. Jiraiya was grateful for the patience he’d gained from living with an out-of-control toddler and moody teenage assassin, otherwise he’s not sure he could have held it together in the face of such a blatant denial.
“Why would my son slaughter his entire clan?”
“Because he was asked to.”
Fugaku’s Killing Intent in that moment probably could have killed two lesser men. The police captain hadn’t entertained anything after that, putting Jiraiya and Shikaku into a genjustu to escape the room. Jiraiya hadn’t even gotten to what happened to Sasuke, though skipping it over was probably in Orochimaru’s best interest.
Neither he nor Shikaku followed him. Jiraiya could have had Fugaku arrested for attacking the Hokage, but what good would that do?
“Jiji?” Naruto murmurs, still half asleep.
“Yeah kid, I’m here,” Jiraiya says, smoothing a hand over Naruto’s fuzzy blonde head. (They’d ended up having to shave it after all; his team is officially banned from babysitting.)
“Can we have ramen for breakfast?”
He looks to the clock on his nightstand, already ticking past eleven in the morning. “No,” he sighs, “but I suppose we could have some for lunch.”
Naruto positively beams at the prospect of having Ichiraku, and scurries to his room to get dressed. Jiraiya does the same, lazily donning his regular uniform and shoving his hair back with his headband.
Kakashi’s already left, funnily enough, because for the next few days he’s still supposed to be guarding Jiraiya, so he waits by the door for Naruto, and they take a lazy walk to the ramen stand.
He orders the usual for both of them, keeping a keen eye on Naruto as he eats, because Jiraiya’s sure one of these days the rate at which this child inhales food will cause him to choke and he does not want to endure that lecture from Tsunade.
As they walk home, Jiraiya grumbling to Naruto half-heartedly about having to pay even though he’s the Hokage, he notices smoke in the sky, coming from the center of the village, near the Police headquarters.
The clan is known for fire affinities, and sure, training goes wrong every once in a while, but smoke like that should not be billowing from the Uchiha district.
He’s got a bad feeling about this.
He shunshins to the nearest roof to get a better look, Naruto giggling in his arms.
The compound is on fire because there’s a full-on battle happening within in it.
Jiraiya curses, quickly calculating it better and closer to try to leave Naruto with whoever is home at the Senju compound than run to the outskirts of the village to his usual babysitter, Yoshino.
He runs on the rooftops, careful not to drop his squirming godson, and nearly barrels over Yamato, Anko, and Shisui in his rush through the gates.
“Wait!” He yells at them. All three genin turn to him, confused.
“Here.” He shoves Naruto into Yamato’s arms. “I need you to watch him for a while.”
“Jiraiya-sama,” Anko cries, “we have training with Sadako-sensei!”
He grimaces. Better not to break any news if he doesn’t have all the information. “It’s cancelled. Do not leave this compound.”
Without looking back he begins his run back to the Uchiha district, heart practically beating out of his chest. This can’t be a coincidence.
“Hokage-sama!”
Suddenly, Shisui is running next to him, Sharingan active. He should have known better than to think one of the kids wasn’t going to follow him, and Shisui, even at his young age, is far more perceptive than a lot of jonin. He probably should have already been promoted.
“What’s going on? Something happened to Sadako-sensei, didn’t it?”
He looks up to the sky, briefly contemplating telling Shisui to go back, but he knows it’s unlikely that order will be obeyed. Shisui’s nickname amongst the veterans was Shisui no Shunshin, after all.
“Why do you assume it’s Sadako-chan?”
Shisui looks conflicted. “I-, well, she’s just been acting a little weird, lately.”
“Weird how?”
“Just, I don’t know, distant, maybe?”
If it was possible, Jiraiya’s heart sinks even further. He’s noticed that, too. Ever since they’d had their falling out, something was off. Everything about her seemed angry, and when she wasn’t avoiding him their interactions were insincere and stilted. He’d thought her new attitude had only been directed at him.
“Shisui, there’s fighting happening in the Uchiha district. I don’t know what’s going on, but for sage’s sake stay out of it, okay?”
There’s terror in Shisui’s dark eyes. He picks up speed, which Jiraiya matches, as they finally reach the compound, a few ANBU now following behind them.
“Fugaku-oji!” Shisui shouts over the crowd. A few heads taller than Shisui, Jiraiya’s already spotted the police captain.
Unfortunately, he also spots who he’s fighting.
“Sadako!”
She doesn’t look up at her name being screamed across the market, just resumes a relentless assault on Fugaku.
“What the hell is going on here!?” Jiraiya shouts, to no one in particular. He’s already lost Shisui in the chaos.
ANBU Mouse jumps down near him, ready to report. He recognizes the jonin under the mask, Uchiha Shoko, as one of Sadako’s close childhood friends.
“Mouse, report!”
“Hokage-sama! Sadako-san and a few of the police and the elders-!”
He blinks, and a familiar curtain of black hair replaces Mouse. He twists to see the other woman as she’s run through with Fugaku’s sword. A look of horror draws across Fugaku’s face, and a wicked smile crosses Sadako’s.
“Mangekyo. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Fugaku-sama, you spineless bastard!”
In a flash, the Hokage guard is now surrounding Jiraiya, weapons drawn. They’ve never had to use the Flying Thunder God to get to him, except briefly after he’d first become Hokage just to make sure the seal was correct. He’s rarely, if ever, been in actual danger in Konoha.
A startling realization dawns on him. They’re all in danger, because this is the coup. This is the growing division within in the village, it seems the growing division within the Uchiha, come to life. Fugaku must have believed him and made some kind of move after they’d talked. The faction of the clan fighting their former comrades obviously hadn’t liked what he had to say.
Jiraiya can’t hide his shock to see Sadako among them. He knew, to an extent, how she had been feeling towards Konoha, but had never expected to see her cutting down her own clan over it, let alone her friends. He feels the familiar rush of anger and grief he’d felt at Orochimaru, then the same towards himself. He’d been trying so hard not to lose another student to this hatred. He thought he had more time.
“Sadako. Have you lost your mind?”
“I have nothing to say to you, sensei,” she snarls at him, then she lunges, clashing blades with Raidou, who’s stepped in front of Jiraiya.
Raidou is a talented swordsman, and one of the best Tokubetsu in the village. He’s served the Sandaime, Yondaime, and Godaime well, but in the face of Sadako, he’s no match. He parries her kunai, but without a Sharingan, can’t find an opening to do anything but defend himself.
It happens in seconds. Sadako disarms him, then shoves her kunai into his gut, twisting the blade. Raidou’s face moves from determination to anger to shock as he frantically presses both hands to the wound.
At the same time, Genma struggles to fight off another Uchiha, finally sticking him with the poisoned senbon he’s always chewing on, then drags Raidou away from the battle. He shunshins back to Jiraiya’s side with a grim expression.
“Genma, Kakashi, leave this to me!” Jiraiya barks, directing them away. Fugaku has Sadako engaged again, but he knows that won’t be for long. “Sadako is-“
He looks away for a second, and where Kakashi was standing next to him, Sadako appears, handsigns forming another fire justu. Kakashi flashes back to him, kicking Sadako away in the stomach, hard enough that they’re only singed.
Jiraiya summons the Toad Mouth binding, readying an attack she can’t escape from, and it’s a small miracle he doesn’t kill the jonin that appears in her place. He’s just not fast enough.
Her new ability is proving to be near as frustrating as it was to try to land a hit on Minato, and that’s a sobering thought. The best bet against the Yellow Flash was to trap him in a genjustu and run, and Minato could be disarmed.
Short of getting a lucky shot through both eyeballs, that’s not an option with a fucking Uchiha. Does he risk trying to enter sage mode and hope Kakashi and Fugaku can keep her occupied? Can he count on the uncorrupted portion of the police to hold off the traitors?
He summons a messenger toad, yells at it to bring his teammates, then rounds on Kakashi. “We need to get a seal or a kunai on her.” The person best suited to wearing Sadako down is the recently-dubbed White Flash, if only because Kakashi will be the only one able to catch her.
Kakashi nods, tossing Jiraiya one of Minato’s kunai and throwing the other one to Fugaku, who without pause uses it to stab one of his former comrades in the side. “It’s the Yondaime’s!” Genma shouts to him. He’s got poisoned senbon threaded through his fingers like claws. “I’ll watch your back, Kakashi, Hokage-sama.”
They run after Sadako, who is moving quickly through the burning Uchiha district, putting civilians and shinobi alike in their path.
Fugaku throws his kunai as soon as she’s swapped, obviously hoping to catch her before she makes another jump, but she’s faster, and an unfortunate civilian boy takes the hit to the small of his back.
“Yondaime-sama was my fucking teammate! You’re not getting me with that!” She screams back at them.
Fugaku doesn’t stop running, tearing the kunai from the civilian’s flesh and shunshining to the roof of an apartment building to try again.
Jiraiya and Kakashi stay on the ground, doing their best to keep her in their sights.
Just as he’s wondering where the hell Orochimaru and Tsunade are, a huge snake appears a bit ahead of them, followed by the rustling of a million tinier ones slithering on the ground. It’s the same jutsu he and Orochimaru used to terrorize Tsunade with as kids, so he knows firsthand how unpleasant the snakes are.
“Jump!”
Kakashi follows him to the rooftops, where they catch Fugaku.
“Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
Fugaku glares at him, but it’s wobbly. “Not here.”
“Orochimaru-sama’s got her, down there!” Kakashi yells, gesturing to where Orochimaru is fighting Sadako. She’s struggling to dodge him and keep the snakes from encompassing her at the same time, but she spots them, and Fugaku just barely misses the lethal swing of Orochimaru’s sword.
Jiraiya takes the chance, spitting toad oil at her, knowing it will limit her fire jutsu, unless she feels like catching herself, too. She sneers at him, but doesn’t engage, switching quickly with a chunin that happens to be passing below, just before Kakashi closes in on her.
The snakes have been dispelled, so Jiraiya jumps down to Orochimaru and Fugaku.
“She’s heading for the gate!”
“Flank her,” Orochimaru suggests evenly, and they fan out into the sidestreets; Fugaku and Kakashi on the rooftops and Jiraiya and Orochimaru on the ground.
Sadako must be starting to tire, because he’s able to cut her off in an alley with a few well-placed paper bombs. Still covered in Toad Oil, she has to stop to extinguish herself and with all the buildings surrounding them, she can’t see anyone to swap with, so there’s nowhere to run. As his former student, she has to know that he’ll beat her easily in a one-on-one, as much as he hates to fight her.
“Sadako, why?” He begs, wondering if he’s smart or stupid for wanting to capture her alive. Maybe it’s just morbid curiosity- more than anything he just wants to know why this is happening and happening now.
There’s blood streaming from both of her eyes when she looks at him. As far as he’s ever heard, the Mangekyo is not sustainable for long periods of time.
“We can’t live like this anymore. And if Fugaku won’t save us, I will.”
She sounds choked, and he realizes there are tear tracks on her face, too. She begins to cry hard, hyperventilating around her words. “I’m sorry. Goodbye, Jiraiya.”
She's gone before he can grab her and a Hyuga jonin replaces her, disoriented.
“Shit. Where’d you come from?” Jiraiya shakes the Hyuga by his flak vest.
“The shop across the way- Jiraiya-sama-!”
Jiraiya doesn’t wait for him to finish that sentence. He sprints after her, ignoring the shouts of protest behind him.