Chapter Text
You know, the average human being gains self awareness at 4 years old. I thank God for that. Because if I had to be aware of being in diapers, I'm fairly certain I would commit an act of violence.
There would be much more time for that later on in life, and let me assure you that there would be a great many acts of violence in this world I found myself in. Unfortunately, at this point of time, at the tender age of 4 years old in the year of 1136 I gained self awareness.
The self awareness of a 25 year old gunsmith from San Juan, Texas. In this new life, I must've been a supremely quiet child, because my first word mirrored the one of my previous life. Albeit in a different language.
"Motherfucker!"
"Isshin!" My new mother gasped, horror in her green eyes as my new father spat out his rice ball as he burst out laughing, pounding his fist into the dining table. Now my new mother, a lovely young woman with auburn hair and vibrant green eyes, had the same sense of discipline as my original mom.
She quickly removed her slipper from her foot and smacked my father on the head with enough force to bounce his head off the sturdy wood table with a shout of 'Baka Yarou!'
I would've laughed, if those green eyes didn't turn to me next with a promise of retribution.
Dread It.
Run from It.
It matters little, because in the annals of history in worlds innumerable there is an immutable truth.
The chancla will always arrive.
My mother's name was Sakura, funnily enough. She was a merchant's daughter who fell in love with my father on a visit to, you guessed it, the Hidden Leaf Village. She was a petite woman, about 5'4" at the age of 23, meaning her and my father married young. She was stern, and obviously wasn't one to spare the belt, but she nursed the bump on my head she caused as I pouted.
"Where did you learn that naughty word, Isshi?" She asked, smiling softly as she rubbed my head.
"Papa." Passing the buck seemed the best option, explaining that I just had a whole, if short, lifetime of memories burned into a prepubescent mind seemed to be a good way to be introduced to the Yamanakas.
I don't want to be introduced to the Yamanakas.
So I sent up a prayer of forgiveness as my mother descended on my father, poor Yoroi Sekitangara, whom suffered the wrath of a woman scorned.
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Days pass, and I talk more with my family, I learn that I have a grandfather who lives in a different apartment closer to the Hokage's tower. I learned that grandad was a shinobi, and that my father didn't follow in his footsteps, preferring to learn the way of the Forge. Young as he was, only 24 himself, he carried himself with the aura of a man much older. Considering the life expectancy in a village just off the final years of a War, I can understand why.
Sekitangara Yoroi was a large man, wiry muscles straining under his skin as I watched him bring down his hammer onto a glowing piece of steel.
"Y'see, Isshi, your Papa's earned a name for our family. Lot of the older smiths were called back into service, being retired shinobi. Papa never took up the headband, so he did his duty here at home." He spoke, placing the piece of steel back into the forge to heat it back up. "Our family owes a lot to the Village, Isshi. Your grandad may not like that fact, but we do."
"Why?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.
"Why what?"
"Why does our family owe the Village a lot, Papa?" What obligations do I have to this place? Outside of y'know, God putting me here for some purpose I can only guess involves a certain blonde kid. My dad removes the goggles from his eyes and gives me a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"That's something Grandpa's gonna have to talk to you about, Kiddo. That's history even beyond your Old Man. Now c'mere, let me show you how to light stuff on fire."
Real responsible, Pop. OOOH PRETTY FLAMES! MORE!
"Easy there, Isshi. Your mother'll kill me if you burn yourself!"
"Yes, Papa!"
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I met the Patriarch of the Sekitangara family months later, when he showed up at our door unannounced, much to the chagrin of my mother.
"He's not going, Ryunosuke!" She snarled at the older man, clutching me to her chest. Not even an elder, at most he was in his early 50s. He was worn down, missing an arm, the remaining one resting on a cane as he weathered my mother's vitriol. His face was set in stone in a passive expression, and his voice was like sandpaper.
"We must at least try, Sakura-san." He spoke gently. Resigned to being the target of a protective mother's ire.
"My son will not be a soldier, Ryunosuke!" Mother shouted, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. My father finally decided to speak up in an attempt to assuage mom.
"They may not even let him enroll, with who his family is, Dear." He spoke, and I was beginning to get irritated at this drama that I had no explanation for. Civilian families had kids go to the ninja academy all the time. At least that's what I had thought, and with how our neighbors had been bragging about their kids going, I had evidence supporting that theory.
I had resigned myself to the fact that I would likely be forced by fate to attend the Shinobi Academy, but this was…weird.
My Dad eventually coaxed me out of Mom's embrace and I found myself standing next to my Grandfather, whom I had never met before today.
"This is about Mom's last wish, isn't it, Dad?" He asked, earning a slow nod.
"As I said…we must at least try. I will return him to you before sunset." And with that, my mother buried her head in my Dad's chest, crying, and my Dad had this…dread in his eyes that I would see whenever I would ask about grandpa. Now I know why.
I walked with my grandfather for a while, before he began to speak.
"I'm sure you have questions, Grandson."
"Will you answer them?" I shot back, earning a quirk of an eyebrow.
"I had intended to, now I'm uncertain." He spoke softly before shaking his head and continuing. "Your father says you're smart, observant. Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?"
I take a proper look at him at this, he's older, sure, but he's not infirm. I know he's a shinobi, but he doesn't have a headband on him, or the leaf sigil anywhere on his person. He's a mite darker than most of our neighbors. Then it clicks.
"You weren't a shinobi of the Leaf…" I whisper, earning a rueful smile from my grandfather.
"Indeed. Oh if I were, things would be so…so much easier. Your grandmother would be here with me, and we would carry you on our shoulders with pride that our grandchild would be continuing the clan legacy…unfortunately, my grandchild, fate is cruel." He speaks, continuing to walk. "I was sent to the Leaf to gather information. I came here under the guise of a simple merchant, and in the beginning, it was simple. Then, I committed the gravest sin a shinobi can do when in hostile territory."
He gives me a gentle smile at odds with the weight in his words.
"I fell in love with the enemy."
Realization hits like a runaway truck.
"You're from Stone."
"Not even enrolled and you already know who hates your home the most. Yes. I was a proud shinobi of the Hidden Stone. Until I met your grandmother. Arguably the worst person I could've fallen for, but the heart is a fickle thing, child. And Sarutobi Shion played mine like a string…I turned on my home country for her. Endured interrogation and having my mind probed by the Yamanaka. Our family would've been beautiful. Your father was just born, I had begun the process of officially becoming just a simple merchant…but Onoki does not take betrayal lightly." His voice grows shaky as he tells the story, and I see the Hokage monument in the distance, the stone eyes of the Fourth Hokage seem to bore into me.
"Your grandmother paid the price. Our family has been paying for my hubris for an entire generation now…and now it is your turn. You have her eyes, you know…I hope that is enough for Hiruzen to let go of his hatred for me, and allow you to fulfill your grandmother's last wish."
"What was her wish?" I asked in a whisper, as the academy gates got closer and closer.
"To prove that a Stone can turn over a new Leaf."
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As we approached the gates of the Academy, I could see more families. Noticeably more jubilant than my grandfather's solemn march.
Intercepted by an ANBU before we could get within earshot of the other students. We were redirected to a side path. We ducked in and out of alleys for a few minutes before we found ourselves inside the Hokage Tower, up the stairs we went.
I had expected to be met by the old man Hiruzen Sarutobi, the third Hokage. But my sense of timing must've been off, I had never been one to really obsess on timelines of stories but I knew one thing for sure.
The tall, blonde-haired man wearing the Hokage's hat was Minato Namikaze, not Hiruzen Sarutobi, whom was also present; but seemed to be in an advisory role.
Internally, at this revelation, I was screaming 'FUCK!' At the top of my lungs.
Externally I was giving my all into appearing like the awestruck five year old I was supposed to be.
"Lord Fourth, Hiruzen." My Grandfather greeted, giving a polite bow to the Hokage and his Advisor.
"Sekitangara-san"
"Ryunosuke."
They spoke simultaneously, I couldn't hear any of that animosity my grandfather had mentioned in Sarutobi's tone though. Lord Fourth's voice was kind, but I can tell he would rather not have to deal with this drama at the moment.
You and me both, Pal.
"This is my Grandson, Sekitangara Isshin. Say 'hello', Grandson." Ryunosuke introduced me, gently nudging me forward with his cane, probably thinking I was just shy from being in the presence of the Hokage instead of dealing with the sense of impending doom caused by a certain giant red fox attacking in about six weeks. Shaking my head clear of those dark thoughts I stepped forward and gave my own bow.
"My name is Sekitangara Isshin, it is great to meet you both, Lord Fourth, Sarutobi-Ooji." I spoke, putting in as much decorum as this diminutive body could muster. I saw an amused smile form on the Fourth's face, and Hiruzen's stern visage softened just a little.
"What a polite young man. Alright, let's have a look at you." Namikaze spoke, stepping out from behind his desk and approaching, he kneels in front of me to look me in the eye.
"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here and not with all the other kids waiting on the academy gates to open." His tone is gentle, about to deliver some bad news before he catches my eyes twitch.
In my previous life, I had been a gunsmith, my eyes trained to track bullet trajectories as to adjust scopes, or adjust powder loadings to achieve the desired results in a hand loaded cartridge.
As such I had a reflex of my eyes tending to lock in on motion that seemed to have followed me to this life, such the telltale blur of something moving from one concealed position to another. I couldn't tell what, but the context of where I was filled in the gap.
"ANBU…" I whispered, awe in my voice. Another soft smile from the Fourth, and I could see Sarutobi suddenly seem a lot more interested.
"You've got good eyes, don't you, kid?" Minato commented, to which my grandfather responded.
"He's very sharp, Lord Fourth." Okay, I'm gonna rip the bandage off.
"Pop-Pop is worried that I won't be able to be a Shinobi, because he used to be one for Stone." I spoke, and the reactions themselves to that were priceless.
"Snrk- HA!" Gone was the composed Fourth Hokage, here's Minato Namikaze, young father-to-be and overall dork. "Sekitangara Ryunosuke, 'Pop-Pop' HA!" Giggles wracked the young man's body as he began to regain his composure, but the damage had been done, and the weight of the room had lessened significantly.
My from here-forth dubbed 'Pop-Pop' was wearing a strained smile with a vein twitching on his temple. This is what you get for making my day more dramatic than necessary. You're now Pop-Pop, deal with it.
Sarutobi was also amused, but held his composure better. Years of politicking I would assume. His reaction was restricted to an amused smile with his pipe quirking upward. Maybe it was me being five years old and still believing in the good in people, but I couldn't see any malice in the man's face when he looked at my grandfather. He stepped forward and looked me over himself.
"This conversation was easier to have with your father, as he didn't wish to be a ninja. But you…you've got Shion's fire in your eyes. My sister was always fierce, y'know." He spoke, before Minato regained control of himself and took over.
"Your family joined the village under…some rough circumstances, buddy. Old Man Tobirama was never the most friendly of people, and considering exactly who your 'Pop Pop' was." Minato spoke gently, I cut in
"A Spy."
"The former student of the Tsuchikage, actually, but yes, that too. In order for Old Man Second to let him defect, there were rules in place. Rules that got worse when your grandmother died." Minato continued, not losing steam. "The only one that concerns you right now, is that the Second Hokage mandated that there were not to be any more Sekitangara Shinobi to be trained in the Academy, for three generations. Not two, kiddo."
…..
What kind of 'Sins of the Father' Bullshit is that! Even beyond the pure pettiness, why the hell would he deny the village the treasure trove that is a whole fucking clan! Hidden Stone Techniques! Training Methods! That makes no sense from a Tactical standpoint.
Wasn't Tobirama supposed to be the smart and ruthless one?
My internal rant was cut off by me reiterating one sentence before my brain could stop me.
"What kind of petty bullshit-"
"Isshin!"
"If you think that was bad, Pop-Pop, I got more."
"OKAY, that's enough! Kami it's like Shion going through puberty again." Hiruzen cut in, having to be the mature voice as Namikaze was laughing his lungs out. "Look, Nephew. You're obviously very sharp. An order from Lord Tobirama is not something easily overturned."
"Even if it's a stupid order, Ooji?" I snarked, earning another upward quirk of the Elder's lip.
"A Hokage's word is law, Nephew. Overturning that law requires approval of the shinobi council. The Leaf Village is still recovering from yet another war with Stone."
I let out a sigh, and I felt a pout form on my small face that earned a soft smile from both the Third and Fourth Hokage. Politics.
"I wanted to learn how to do cool shinobi stuff, Pop Pop." I groaned out, earning a head pat from the aforementioned grandfather.
"I know, Isshin, and I'm sorry." He spoke, resigned, "Come on, let's get you back to your mother."
"Do you think that I would summon you up this tower if I didn't have an option for you, Sekitangara-san, the last twenty years must've been hard on you. Look beneath the underneath: No Sekitangara Shinobi in the Academy." Namikaze cut in before we could take a step towards the door. "You'll be on your own in teaching him, and your other restrictions still stand, but he'll be allowed to take the Exam, up to three times. It's not fair, it's biased and cruel. But it's there."
A fire lights up in my grandfather's eyes. His back straightens and his grip on my shoulder gains the strength of a Shinobi. Oh dear. I'm about to go to boot camp.
"Missing an arm, chakra sealed, and twenty years out of practice…I'll turn him into the best in his class, Lord Fourth, just you watch." No more melancholy or regret in his demeanor, just a rather unsettling purpose. We made our way to the door once more before Sarutobi spoke.
"Ryunosuke. I expect this to be the last day of twenty years of self-punishment for my goodbrother. You were always a mopey bastard, but don't deceive yourself into thinking I do not care for all of my family. Marriages included. I'll be in touch."
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Grandfather dropped me off in front of my family's apartment and practically sprinted off to devise a curriculum.
My mother, doting as she was, immediately looked me over and seemed relieved at how early I had been returned home. Unfortunately, with grandad having ditched me, I had to break the news to mom. So, putting as much youthful excitement into my voice as I could muster, I spoke.
"Pop-Pop is going to teach me how to do Shinobi things, Mama! I met the Hokage! And Sarutobi-Ooji!" I spoke, and speaking like a child was becoming a bit easier, an underdeveloped brain? Possibly. Either way, my words may have displayed my excitement at learning the other half of the family trade but by the growing frown on my mother's face she was nowhere near as excited as I proclaimed myself to be.
"What do you mean, Isshi? Are they letting you go to the Academy?" She asked, concern marring her face as my father joined us in the sitting area.
"No, Mama. Lord Fourth that Lord Second, that a-"
"No swearing, Isshi, we've talked about this." Mother cut me off with a stern look, I continued, excluding the many rude comments about Tobirama Senju I had planned.
"Lord Second didn't want any of Grandpa's family at the Academy. At the Academy. That doesn't keep Pop-Pop from teaching me himself. Lord Fourth says if I can pass the Exam in three tries I can be a Shinobi!"
"Do you even want to be a Shinobi, Isshi?" Mom asked, and I shrugged.
"I don't know, Ma, I'm five." I spoke honestly. I was more concerned in trying to figure out a way to get my new family out of harm's way when big red and hypnotized comes calling. Still, even if I don't become a shinobi of the Leaf, learning from Ryunosuke would be incredibly useful.
Ma gives a soft smile and kisses me on the forehead before pulling me into a hug and leaning back on our couch, Dad joins us, throwing an arm around Mom's shoulder.
"You're so smart Isshi. Much smarter than most of the other kids…I know what these hidden villages do to smart kids, and I'm scared that they'll do something to you." She spoke, resting her head on Dad's shoulder.
"Not that smart, Mama." I muttered, unable to escape familial affection. Pa barked out a laugh.
"You went from being near-silent to speaking full sentences in a week. Know more about shinobi history than I do, and I've seen your drawings. I know weapon designs when I see them, Isshi."
Fuck I thought I hid those. -CHOP- OW! Damn, must've said that bit out loud.
"One thing I wish was a little less smart is that mouth of yours. Too much time listening to the shinobi in your father's shop, I say." My mother said, having delivered a light knife hand to the top of my head.
"We're in a Shinobi Village, Dear. He's gonna have a rough tongue no matter what we do." Pop spoke,
"That is no excuse for a dirty mouth, Yoroi. It seems I'm going to have to be the responsible parent and teach you proper etiquette, Isshi. Don't you worry, Mama's tea ceremonies are legendary."
…..is it too late to go back to Texas?
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The next day Pop-Pop freakin kidnapped me at 4 in the morning.
Now. I like to think of myself having been able to throw a decent punch, even at my diminutive age. So as I scrambled out of my blankets and threw a properly performed right hook towards my grandad's junk, Pop Pop proved that old age and treachery are always gonna beat youth and exuberance because my tiny fist crashed into a solid wood cane.
"FUCK!"
THWACK!
"Sonofa-"
"It would behoove you not to insult your own great grandmother, Isshin." Ryunosuke spoke, tapping the cane onto the ground. I let out a growl, scrambling back up to my feet.
We were somewhere in the forests surrounding Konoha. Had to be, I couldn't imagine Pop Pop having permission to use a proper training ground. I glared up at him, earning a raised eyebrow.
"Due to the limitations imposed on me, I will not be able to teach you in a traditional manner. That does not mean that I will be lenient." Ryunosuke Sekitangara spoke, accentuating his final word with a tap of his cane into the dirt.
"I will teach you the ways of the Shinobi, how to move, fight, and harness your chakra."
"Pop Pop…I'm going to make you regret this course of action." I swore, staring daggers at the man who upended my sleep schedule. Five year old and twenty-five year old me both liked our sleep. Pop Pop simply smiled.
"Pay attention and maybe you'll learn enough to do so. Now, I only have until midday, your parents still wish for you to learn the forge, so I have to shove as much training into half of the time that the other students have in the Academy." Pop Pop spoke, before gesturing to a stump. "Take a seat."
I complied with a grumble but shut up as my grandfather began to speak.
"I was taught by the Second Tsuchikage, Mu. Whilst my colleague, Onoki, took to our mentor's lessons in leadership and ninjutsu, I specialized in espionage and assassination. Hence why I was sent to the Leaf."
"Then you fell in love with your mark."
"And if I hadn't you wouldn't be alive, boy. Quit the snark and pay attention!" He tapped his cane into the earth once more.
I shut up.
"You're very intelligent, Isshin. But you're also a little asshole." HA, got his composure to break. He brought his hand up to his forehead and let out a sigh. "I need you to work with me if you're going to learn the shinobi arts, so please, to save me the aneurism, keep your snark controlled."
I gave a nod and straightened my back. He wasn't wrong, being a little menace would do no one any good. For now.
"Yes, Grandpa. What are you going to teach me today?" I asked, composing myself finally.
"Normally the academy would test your physical capabilities and begin teaching you the history and propaganda that all academy children go through. We don't have the time for that, and from what your father tells me, you already have a grasp of Shinobi history."
I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. I'm fairly certain he was suspicious of exactly how I knew what I did, but still he seemed more focused on his next aspect of today's training.
"So, today we will focus on making you aware of your chakra. Ideally, I would force my chakra into your coils, and you would use that sensation to seek out your own. Unfortunately, my chakra has been sealed. As such, we'll be reliant on the Old Ways. Close your eyes, Isshin."
I did so.
"Chakra, as you're probably aware, is the combination of physical and spiritual energy of your body. Everything which has a soul, also has chakra. At your age it tends to be easier for most to visualize it as a candle flame. Focus on your core, not your belly. Direct your focus inward. Visualize a flame behind your heart." My grandfather spoke, a wistful tone entering his voice.
"The Shinobi is a Stone in the Path. Unnoticed, until one stumbles over it to their death. The Shinobi must facilitate this. Arming himself with every advantage available. Chief among them: Chakra."
I felt him place a finger on my chest on my sternum, behind which I was focusing,
"You should feel it, a heat, burning like an oil lantern in your core."
I could feel a slight heat, yeah, but it felt…restrained somehow. It was comforting knowing it was there, but I was having difficulty getting it to…move.
"I feel it, Pop Pop. It's a little…underwhelming." I admitted, earning a laugh.
"You're five years old, Boy! Did you expect to be launching fireballs right away? We all start somewhere, grandson. Our family does have a history of slightly lower chakra reserves, but your grandmother was a powerhouse. You more than likely fall right in the middle. As you grow, and with proper training, your reserves will grow with you."
Makes sense, I suppose. Still, I intended to do what I could to increase my reserves. Lots of pushups in my future, I foresee.
The rest of my lesson was more of that kind of estimation. I managed to force a bit more 'oomph' out of that little spark of chakra inside of me, but overall I was determined to be at the solid point of 'average' for a five year old.
I returned home in the mid afternoon and was quickly shuffled over to help Pa in the smithy. My responsibility was to observe the store when dad was doing the actual blacksmithing.
Awful lot of responsibility for a five year old, but both Mom and Dad simply gave me this 'uh huh' look when I spoke up about it.
They've adapted to having a smart-ass as a kid fairly well, I'd say.
Anyways, today was the first day I encountered our best patrons, according to my Dad. A tall gentleman entered the store , black hair and black eyes in a yukata emblazoned with the red and white fan. He stared at me for a second as I watched him enter.
"Am I to assume this is your son, Yoroi-san?" The man spoke, calling towards the back, to which I heard my dad scramble away from the forge back towards the front.
"Aye, Yoroi-sama, that's my boy, Isshin." My dad spoke, patting the forge scale from his hands as he walked into the shop to smile at his client. "Son, meet Uchiha Yoroi, an old friend of mine, and our liaison with the Uchiha clan. Here for this month's shipment, Yoroi-Sama?"
The Uchiha gave an easygoing grin.
"That I am indeed, Yoroi-san." He spoke, and both men gave a chuckle.
"You're both dorks, Papa." I deadpanned from my position behind the register, but couldn't hide my grin at their antics. It's always fun when you can mess with someone who has the same name.
Pops ruffled my hair earning a pout as he turned to address the Uchiha.
"How are things going in the Military Police these days, Uchiha-sama?" He asks, before darting into the forge and returning with a large wooden crate filled with Kunai over one shoulder, and another filled to the brim with shuriken over the other.
"It's been a quiet year so far, with the war ending it seems even the shadier elements are allowing us some rest for once." Uchiha Yoroi was an older man, maybe in his late 50s early 60s, he had a shinobi's build but I could see smile lines on his face. He rolled out two sealing scrolls that my father gently placed the crates onto. A puff of smoke and the crates vanished into the seals.
Storage seals always interested me, what were the limits of what they could hold? Was it just physical objects they could seal? Or other more abstract things? Uchiha-san must've noticed my interest in the seals because he started teasing my dad.
"Uh oh, I've seen that look before. You've got a sealing nerd in your house. Your wallet is about to hate you, Sekitangara-san." Y'know, I thought I had seen my dad's face go white when I told Mom that I learned my words from him.
"The thrice-damned ink." He muttered, leaning on the wall of the forge.
Ah…that makes sense.
"I will…try not to bankrupt us, Papa." I spoke, my own face paling at the memories of exorbitantly priced calligraphy ink back home.
"Thank you, Son."
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Three weeks later, I met my first chibified big name. Well two chibified big names and one normal big name.
I know I shouldn't be saying anything, with my own status as a chibi, but seeing a five year old Itachi Uchiha and a newborn Sasuke being held by who I could only assume was Mikoto Uchiha in my Dad's shop was certainly a surprise.
Pa had to step out due to forgetting something he had to do for Mom, leaving me alone to futz around in the store. I had taken this opportunity to work on my first soiree into gunsmithing in this world. Which is what the good Lady Uchiha and her children walked in on, me mixing a certain setup of charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter together next to a pipe set in a rough wooden chassis.
"...Do you have a license for fireworks, young man?" The Lady Uchiha spoke, earning a sheepish chuckle from me. I placed the mixture a safe distance away from any fire sources and gave a small bow.
"Sorry, Lady Uchiha, My name is Sekitangara Isshin, I'm the son of Sekitangara Yoroi. Pa had to step out, how may I help you?" I asked, putting as much of that chibi charm I could into getting her attention away from my project. Her expression was amused, if slightly concerned.
"Is your father aware that you're experimenting with explosives without a license?"
"Konoha legislature only requires licensure for purchasing black powder, Lady Uchiha. I'm following the rules, I asked Sarutobi-Ooji and everything!" Which was true, Grunkle Sarutobi was a blue-moon appearance during training, and occasionally at dinner. He got a glint in his eye when he realized I was interested in pyrotechnics, and helped me find some loopholes.
"Already thinking like a shinobi, it looks like you have a Rival, Itachi." Lady Uchiha spoke, turning to her older son with a smile, he simply raised an eyebrow.
"Sekitangara-san is not participating in the Academy, Mother." Itachi finally spoke.
"Politics suck, Uchiha-san. I can't go to the Academy. Although, I'm fairly certain you were already aware of that, Lady Uchiha, what other reason could there be to patronize a shop like my Dad's when there's more institutionalized shops like say, the Higurashis." I counter, earning a smirk.
"Wise beyond your years, Sekitangara-chan. Now, I'm here to pick up our monthly order, Yoroi-kun is feeling his age, unfortunately. But I did want to pick up a new set of kit for Itachi, as well as something for my husband." She spoke, and I went into full business mode, hopping down from my chair and approaching Itachi.
"Do you want stuff sized for you now, or something you'll grow into?" I asked, the young prodigy taking a step back and reassessing me. He thought for a while before speaking.
"I would prefer mostly things I can make use of now, but having a specific item I can use long-term would be useful." He replied, and I gave a nod. A 'why not both' response.
"Alright, I can get you squared away for your immediate kit right now, do you have any ideas what you might want to set up for your long term? A Tanto maybe?" This was when his mother stepped in.
"A Tanto will do." Is Itachi Uchiha…pouting? Oh god he is. HA! "And you will be the one to make it for him."
"Excuse me, Uchiha-Sama?" Please clarify, I'm not the smithy. I don't know how to smith shit that doesn't go boom. Please tell me you're joking.
"I believe I spoke quite clearly, Sekitangara-san. You will make my son's Tanto. I'm certain having a project that doesn't involve black powder will calm Sakura-san's heart." Ah…
"....My mother put you up to this, didn't she." I deadpanned, keeping my eyes locked with the smiling visage of the Uchiha Matriarch.
"Yes, yes she did." Mikoto Uchiha, whom I finally realized was much closer to my family than I expected, wore a devious grin. "Now, would you mind assisting me in finding a gift for my good husband? He's been in need of a new set of kunai."
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Three more weeks, and the big day arrived. October 10th. I had tried to convince my folks to take a trip, head up to Kanzaku Gai or something, just to get out of the Village for a while.
Unfortunately, Politics. Grandpa couldn't leave the village. Ever. Pa could technically leave, but it'd have to be under shinobi escort, to and from. We didn't have that kind of money nor the inclination.
So here I was, in the woods with Pop Pop. Working on sticking a bunch of rocks to my skin.
"You seem distracted, Isshin." Pop Pop spoke. Understatement of the century, Old Timer.
"A bad feeling, Pop Pop. Real bad." I muttered, opening my eyes and letting the two river stones fall from the undersides of my arms. I had grown more capable in six weeks, whilst my chakra still seemed a bit diminutive to my preferences, I was now incredibly more aware of it. I could feel it bristling beneath my skin like electricity. I could even sense Pop Pop's sealed chakra, for a certain distance anyway.
"And you trust your instincts in this issue, Isshin?" Ryunosuke asked, rising to his feet. I nodded.
"I wanna be with my folks, Pop Pop…something bad is gonna-"
It happened.
A burning nuke lighting up my senses. I instinctively turned towards it and was practically blinded by it.
So much pure chakra, and so much malice. It was like a physical wave that hit me.
Literally hit me with enough force to slam me into a tree.
"ISSHIN!" I heard Grandpa shout, but I couldn't focus. No, all I could focus on was the bright light pulsing from the giant Nine-Tailed Fox howling in rage.
He let out a horrendous roar that coalesced a massive amount of chakra.
Do you know what that amount of chakra does to a burgeoning sensor?
Have you ever stared too long at the sun? Or been flashed by a bright white light when playing a game in dark room? Imagine that, but right behind your eyes.
The last thing I remember is whispering prayers of salvation for my new family and hitting the dirt hard.
The world went dark, and I hit the ground with blood leaking from my tear ducts.