43: Father and Mother
"Thank you for the meal. I should be going."
Dinner had been easy—warm conversation, the occasional laugh, cups of tea afterward. By the time Shin rose to his feet, the sky outside had gone fully dark.
"It's already this late?" Mikoto stood and peered out the window. "Why don't you just stay the night? It's no trouble at all."
"I appreciate it, but I need to get home."
He bowed to Fugaku and Mikoto. Mikoto could see he'd made up his mind and didn't push further. She walked him to the entryway.
"Sasuke, Shin's leaving." She called back to her son, who was still sitting in the living room without moving.
Sasuke dragged himself up and shuffled to the door, his expression announcing that he would rather be doing anything else.
"Shin."
He looked up from tying his sandals. Fugaku had followed them out, and in his hand was a small scroll.
Shin stood quickly and accepted it with both hands.
"What is this?"
"A few basic fire release techniques. Look them over when you have time." Fugaku's tone was matter-of-fact.
"This is... too generous."
"Take it." Mikoto crouched beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder. "We've told you—don't be so formal. This is your home too."
"But—"
"No buts." Fugaku cut him off. "If Tsukasa were here, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second."
Silence.
Another gift. The Great Fireball lesson alone had been more than he knew how to accept, and now this. He understood that he shouldn't take favors without giving something in return—but the kindness from Mikoto and Fugaku left him no room to refuse.
It always came back to his parents. The moment Fugaku or Mikoto invoked them, Shin lost every argument he had.
Sasuke stood off to the side, emanating a low-frequency resentment. He'd learn these jutsu eventually too—that wasn't the point. The point was the look on his father's face when he handed the scroll to Shin versus the look he gave his own son.
Catching Sasuke's stare, Shin raised an eyebrow at him.
Sasuke's teeth ground together.
His parents treat Shin better than their actual child. Better than me.
Sometimes I honestly wonder if—
Wait.
Something clicked. Sasuke's expression shifted, uncertain now. He looked at Shin—that jet-black hair, those jet-black eyes, identical to every Uchiha he'd ever met—and a terrible, world-shaking hypothesis took shape.
His eyes went wide with horror.
Shin noticed the sudden change but didn't dwell on it. He bowed once more to Fugaku and Mikoto, then turned and left.
"Sasuke, make sure to bring Shin over more often, okay?" Mikoto said after the door closed.
Sasuke said nothing. His gaze ping-ponged between his parents, loaded with suspicion.
"What are you looking at?" Mikoto laughed and ruffled his hair, then headed off to tidy up.
Fugaku returned to his room. Sasuke stood alone in the entryway, thinking thoughts he couldn't quite finish.
"Sasuke, come help me."
Mikoto's voice broke the spell. He muttered an acknowledgment and went.
After washing up, Sasuke retreated to his room. Mikoto returned to the bedroom to find Fugaku seated on the floor in meditation, legs crossed, eyes closed.
"Itachi isn't back yet?" The sound of the door seemed to rouse him.
"No." Mikoto sighed. "He left this morning. Didn't even eat breakfast."
Fugaku opened his eyes slowly. Something complicated moved behind them.
"It's so much pressure for him." Mikoto's voice was tight. "He's still so young."
"When we were his age, we were already on the battlefield."
"That's not the same thing." The words came sharp. "What goes on between all of you... it's crueler than any battlefield."
Fugaku glanced at her but let it pass.
"Have Sasuke spend more time with Shin going forward. The stronger the bond between them, the better."
"What are you planning now?" Mikoto's eyes narrowed.
"Nothing. If Shin and Sasuke can support each other in the future, it benefits Sasuke." He met her gaze steadily.
Mikoto relaxed a fraction. When it came to Shin, she wanted nothing more than to keep him out of harm's reach.
"He picked up the Great Fireball on his second try today. His talent rivals Itachi's." Fugaku paused. "Compared to Shin, Sasuke falls short—in both ability and temperament. Having them as close friends will give Sasuke support he'll need."
Mikoto nodded.
"And it benefits the Uchiha clan as well," Fugaku added.
"What do you mean?"
Silence. His gaze flickered—calculating, measuring—before he spoke.
"After the coup succeeds, I'll take the seat as Fifth Hokage. But our power base is still just the Uchiha clan. The other families and the jonin leadership can be negotiated into accepting us—once. They will never agree to a Sixth Hokage who is also Uchiha."
"When I step down, Shin Takami is the ideal successor."
"His background, his ability—he qualifies on every count. His father was on good terms with the senior jonin, and those men will form the core of Konoha's power structure going forward. Shin, raised under their watch and their goodwill, is the perfect candidate."
"You—" Mikoto stared at him, frozen.
"Fugaku... you never gave it up, did you..."
"What you're talking about is a small thing. It stopped mattering to me a long time ago." A ripple passed through his eyes, there and gone. His voice stayed level. "Everything I'm doing is for our children's future. And for the future of the Uchiha."
"Have you considered that Shin might not want any of this?"
Fugaku was quiet for a moment. Itachi's face flickered through his mind.
"He's young. A little guidance is all it takes."
"With Shin as Hokage and Sasuke as clan head, the two of them together ensure the Uchiha will never fall."
"Wait." Mikoto's breath caught. "What about Itachi? Itachi is the firstborn. Everyone in the clan knows he's the next head—it's been understood since the day he was born!"
Silence.
"Fugaku, what about Itachi?" She scrambled forward, seizing his arm with both hands.
"What about him?"
"Answer me. What happens to Itachi?"
"Fugaku?!"
"..."
"You're... giving up on him." Her hands went slack. She stared at Fugaku as if the ground had opened beneath her. "Aren't you."
"..."
"We watched Shisui grow up from a child." Her head dropped, the words barely audible. "He was like a brother to Itachi. I didn't think you could be that ruthless."
"Shisui had already turned against us." Fugaku's voice didn't waver. "Yes, we watched him grow up. And in the end, he was ready to stab us in the back. He chose his own path. I gave him a chance."
"But Itachi is your child." Mikoto's head snapped up. Tears streaked her face.
"You were so proud of him. He was your pride—your favorite. You loved him more than anything."
"So what is all of this for? To pit yourself against your own son?"
Fugaku looked at her, and something deep inside him buckled.
"Stop crying. I didn't say I was giving up on Itachi."
Mikoto went still. Her tear-streaked face tilted up toward him.
"Itachi can no longer serve as clan head. A man who can't put his clan first—who can't commit to it with his whole heart—can't lead it. Someone with the wrong intentions could exploit that weakness in an instant."
"He'll step back. Work from behind the scenes."
Mikoto wiped her eyes in silence.
"But all of this depends on what Itachi chooses. The village—or the clan."
Shin walked out of the Uchiha compound, through the bright clamor of the evening market—lanterns strung between rooftops, the smell of grilled food and woodsmoke—and made his way home.
The front door was wide open. Light spilled from the windows.
His stomach dropped. At this hour, there was only one person who'd be in his house.
......
He walked into the yard.
The Haimaru Brothers lay by the entrance. Kuromaru glanced at him, then padded inside—reporting his arrival, no doubt.
She already knows.
The knot in his chest tightened as he approached the door. Inside, Tsume sat on the sofa, her gaze fixed on him with the patience of a predator that had been waiting a very long time.
Hana stood to one side, worry plain on her face. Kiba was on the other, Akamaru clutched to his chest, pointedly looking away. He couldn't meet Shin's eyes. He was terrified Shin would blame him for not keeping the secret.
Shin didn't blame him. He stepped inside and bowed.
"Auntie."
Tsume's expression didn't change.
"What's that in your hand?"
The scroll Fugaku had given him. He moved to hand it over.
"I asked you what's in your hand." Same flat tone. She didn't want to see it. She wanted him to say it.
"A fire release jutsu scroll."
The room went cold.
"Hana cooked dinner tonight." Tsume shifted subjects without warning. "Made all your favorites. Specially."
Shin's eyes flicked to Hana. She was still watching him with that aching concern. Guilt pooled in his chest.
"We've all been waiting for you. None of us have eaten."
"..."
"Did you have a nice time?" The warmth drained from her voice.
Shin dropped to his knees.
"Do you remember what I told you?" Tsume's tone was stone.
"...Don't make contact with the Uchiha."
"Oh, so you do remember. Do you think because you're top of the class now, you can ignore what I say?"
"..."
"Do you think because I'm not your mother, I have no right to tell you what to do?!"
Her fist slammed into the table beside her. The crack split the air like a whip. Hana flinched. Kiba shrank into Akamaru, trembling.
"I wouldn't dare." Shin's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Wouldn't dare?" A cold, mirthless laugh. "Then where were you tonight?"
"..."
"Shisui Uchiha teaches you shuriken. Fugaku Uchiha teaches you fire release. You love the Uchiha that much, huh? Is that it?!" Tsume rose to her feet, her face flushed dark, her voice a barely contained roar.
"..."
"If I'd known this would happen, why did I fight Fugaku tooth and nail over custody?! I should've just handed you over—wouldn't that have made you happier?"
Custody.
Fugaku.
"Shin Takami!" Her voice climbed another register. "What did you promise me?"
"I told you to wait. I said give it some time before you went near them again. You couldn't wait?"
"Could you?!" She closed the distance in three strides and seized the front of his shirt, wrenching him off the floor.
"Mom!" Hana cried out behind them.
"Answer me!" Twin fires burned in Tsume's eyes. At this range Shin could feel the fury coming off her like heat from a forge.
"Could you wait?!"
He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask what had happened to the Uchiha, whether it was connected to Shisui's death—
But he knew that would only make it worse.
"Are you blind?!" Her grip on his collar tightened until breathing became difficult. "Can't you tell right from wrong?!"
"You nearly died a few days ago—do you understand that?!"
"Do you have any idea what Fugaku Uchiha did to your father?!"
Shin's eyes flew wide.
"All for a few jutsu?" Tsume lifted him clear off the ground. His face darkened from the pressure on his throat. She didn't care.
"Mom!" Hana rushed forward and grabbed Tsume's arm. "He understands, okay? He can barely breathe—please let go!"
Tsume's arm didn't move. Her eyes stayed locked on Shin's face, cold and relentless.
"Mom, please." Hana pulled harder.
Shin dangled in the air, the collar biting into his neck. The edges of his vision started to blur.
He understood why she was this angry. He'd ignored every warning. Gone to the Uchiha compound anyway. After Fugaku had already placed him under genjutsu—after Tsume had run herself ragged trying to undo it, after she'd fought to hold people accountable—Shin had walked straight into the clan head's home and sat at his dinner table.
Of course she was furious.
When the whites of Shin's eyes began to show, Tsume let go.
He hit the floor and sucked air in great, shuddering gasps, feeling like a drowning man who'd just broken the surface.
"Are you okay?" Hana knelt beside him instantly, one hand rubbing circles on his chest, her expression wrecked.
"He'll live," Tsume said coldly.
Once his breathing evened out, Shin straightened on his knees. Head bowed.
"Shin..." Hana's eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"Mom, he really does know he was wrong." Hana looked up at Tsume, pleading.
Shin drew a long breath. He placed both palms flat on the floor, lowered his upper body until his forehead pressed against the backs of his hands.
"I'm sorry, Auntie."
He knew what Tsume had done for him. He knew exactly how far he'd pushed her.
Tsume stood over him with that cold, brittle smile.
"Mom, he's apologizing. Please forgive him." Hana tried again.
Tsume scoffed, rose without a word, and walked out the door. She didn't look back.
"Mom!" Hana called after her.
No response. Tsume's silhouette vanished into the night.
"Mom..." Hana stood there, helpless, then turned back to Shin. He was still prostrate on the floor, motionless.
"Shin..."
He pushed himself upright but stayed on his knees.
"Come on, get up." Hana gripped his shoulders and pulled, but he didn't budge.
"Shin, she's just angry right now, okay? She'll cool off and forgive you before you know it. Come on, get up."
She pulled again. He didn't move.
"Don't be upset with her, okay? Please don't—"
"I'm not, Hana-nee." He shook his head. "You should go home."
Hana pressed her lips together, watching the boy who refused to stand.
"Kiba, come here." She turned to the corner where Kiba had been hiding.
"...Yeah." He shuffled over.
"Head home. Check if Mom's eaten. Clear the table, put the food in the fridge." She rattled off a list of chores—tidying, sweeping, the small domestic things that needed doing.
Kiba nodded without complaint. On any other night he'd have groaned about it. Tonight he understood. He held Akamaru close and left.
Once he was gone, Hana tried again.
"She's left. She won't know. I won't tell her."
"She's already vented. I'm sure she's not angry anymore."
"Will you stand up? Please, Shin? Go to bed. Okay?"
"Hana-nee." He cut through her gently.
"I did something wrong. I should be punished. Don't try to talk me out of it. Auntie has been so good to me, and I let her down."
"..."
"Shin..."