#naruto angst

Udon

He takes the longer route home, wasting time looking at prices in the shop windows and trying to calculate how many weeks of pocket money the things are worth. Three months for a Kunai, two weeks for the pretty silver hairpin and he’s got enough money to buy the new brand of chocolate for him and his brothers.

Maybe he should do that. Maybe he’s going to feel better after having some chocolate.

But he doesn’t buy it. He’s seen firsthand how quickly a snack disappears in their home.

-

Eventually though, his feet lead him through the red painted gate that lead to the houses of the Akimichi Clan. The paths are rather quiet, most people are at work, training, or preparing their next meal. Frogs and Toads croak in the shallow pools and small creaks, and the smell of simmering curry and slowly roasted meat hangs in the air. 

You’re outside, hanging up the laundry. 

Udon halts at the corner, content just to watch for a second. 

He likes to see the way his shirts and his brothers shirts all mingle. Chouji wears a lot of green, Chougo prefers a deep purple and Chouma likes the pale blue of the sky. From this distance, his clothes don’t look that much smaller than the others. He’s an Akimichi, even if he doesn’t carry the name.

-

“Udon?” You spot him anyway, smiling at his sight. “You’re back early. Are you hungry?” 

You reach for him and hug him close, one hand on his back and the other in his hair. 

“How was your day, love?”

“Fine.”

“That doesn’t sound like my boy,” You lower herself until you’re eye to eye with him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s fine,” Udon disagrees, shaking his head. “Can I help you with Dinner?”

You sigh loudly. “Are you really going to make me cook?” Your hands find his side, the touch a little softer than a tickle. “I thought we agreed on asking Papa to do it.”

Udon could play along now, but he’s not in the mood to play. Hasn’t been all day.

“Where’s Chouji, then?”

“Training.”

“And Chougo and Chouma?” 

“With Grandma and Granpa.” You send him an earnest look, a quiet one. “Do you wanna talk a little walk with me? Get some fresh flowers and groceries?”

Udon looks up at the house. He doesn’t want to go on a walk, but he doesn’t want to be stuck in his room either.

“Yeah, okay.”

-

Udon likes watching his parents buy groceries, because they do it so differently.

Papa always looks at the meat first, asks questions and jokes with the guy behind the counter like they’re old friends. Papa uses words like “grass-fed” and “leaner cut” and gets to taste expensive sausages that aren’t even sold yet.

You always go for the vegetables, knock your fist against the watermelons and sniff the tomatoes, weigh the apples in your hands and always, always find something that’s a little beaten, a little bruised, and bring it to the counter with a smile.

Udon’s pretty sure you’re the only one who does it, the only reason there are now little boxes sold in the corner with the instant ramen, everying at least half-priced, with bruised apples and wrinkly carrots, sausages that are going to reach the end of their shelf-live soon and a little something you like to slip in after paying.

“The store needs to make money,” you explained to him once. “But throwing these things away would cost them too. I convinced them to sell those things in bundles for a smaller price. They’re for the orphaned Shinobi children. Now go and choose some candy to add. Everyone needs a little candy sometime.”

-

“What flowers would you like?” You ask Udon in the line at the Yamanaka’s, brushing back his hair and offering him a tissue for his nose.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a hard choice, I know, but you know they don’t sell “I don’t know’s” here.”

“I know,” he huffs, glaring at the bright red poppies in the corner. “I’ll pick those, then.”

He asks for something in deep blue next, something bright yellow and a garish orange, hoping it will look hideous enough to show his mood, but the outcome is a sweet little bouquet that reminds him of the trees in autumn, their bold colors against the darkening sky.

“Now,” you take his hand on the way out, the basket filled with goods swinging from your other arm, “we’re going to visit a friend of mine.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, actually, I think we do. Come on, don’t make that face, we won’t be long.”

“But we’re supposed to be making dinner.”

“Countrary to popular belief I don’t think any of the boys are going to starve if we don’t serve them dinner in the next hour. I’m pretty sure they all have a snack-stash hidden somewhere. And they have their grandparents to feed them if they get desperate.”

“What about-” Udon quiets when you raise your eyebrow, a silent challenge.

-

Udon should have realized sooner where you’re taking him, and not just when the first headstone comes into sight.

He follows you quietly, past rows of Akimichi names that don’t mean much to him, until he reaches his mothers grave.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Sometimes it helps to remember,” you point out quietly, handing him the flowers. “You wanna sit for a while?”

Udon lowers himself into the grass without an argument, eyes locked onto the dark stone. 

“What was she like?”

He knows. You’ve told him everything you know, several times. 

But you still tell him, and somehow, it feels like he’s learning something new again.

“She was petite,” you point out, taking a seat on his right. “Smaller than me. Good with her hands and she had a sharp mind. You might have that from her.”

Udon’s quiet as he looks down at his hands, small and insignificant. Under his gaze, your hands fold around his, larger and scarred, warm and gentle. 

“You are a gift,” you say quietly. “The world would be a lot colder without you.”

“But-”

“But?” You ask, when he trails off. 

Embarrassed, he climbs into your lap, rests his head against your chest and closes his eyes. Here, where he can see no one, no one can see him.

“I’m never going to pass the Academy,” he whispers. “And I’m so small- even Chouma is bigger than I am, and he’s my youngest brother! I’m not even a real Akimichi.”

“Udon,” you pull him close, rest your head on top of his. “Remember how I told you about my own team as a Genin?”

“Yes, with Uncle Shibi.”

“And?”

Udon wrinkles his brows, trying to remember. “An Uchiha?”

“Juro, yes. Two boys from two very strong Clans. With very strong Kekkai Genkai. And then me, barely able to pass Academy, barely able to hold my ground in this team. Always slowing them down.”

“You barely passed the Academy?”

“I used to be terrible with weapons,” you admit freely. “So I trained very hard at it. My worst subject became my best.”

Udon ponders that for a while. “But I- I can’t become an Akimichi, right? Even if I eat like big brother Chouji.”

“You will never be an Akimichi like I will never be an Akimichi. There’s a reason you still have your last name. You’ll be the first Ise to Konoha. The people will know your name for who you are. The things you’re good at. That means a lot of training, yes. And listening to your teachers.”

“Konohamaru has his own private teacher,” Udon points out morously. “I’ll never be as great as him, even though he lets me be part of his team.”

“Do you know who trained Ebisu? Papa did. So everything Konohamaru’s learning from Ebisu, Ebisu learned from Chouza. We all believe in you.”

“But what if I’m still not going to pass Academy?”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” you whisper into his ear and he perks up, leaning back to look at you. 

“All Shinobi fight so that future Generations have it better. When there are less fights, less wars, there will be less need for Shinobi. But a need for other people. People who are good in math. Who have a sharp mind. If you never pass the Academy, there is still a future out there for you, as long as you are brave. And you are brave, aren’t you?”

“I think so,” Udon quietly admits, and turns to look at his mothers gravestone. “Do you think Mama was brave?” 

“The bravest,” you reach out to touch the cool stone and he mirrors your movement. He’s never been a fan of graves, with the smell of wet earth and cold stone all around him. But he knows you like coming here from time to time, to visit his mother or your parents. 

“After all, she dared to pack up her whole life to bring you to Konoha. All for a dream.”

“She’d still be alive if she stayed, wouldn’t she?”

“We don’t know that. Life in that little village wasn’t easy either. And as much as I wish for her to be alive, and for you to have her by your side, I can’t imagine a life without you.”

- - -

You

It’s a day like any other, as soon as you return from the cemetery.

Chouji returns from training with bruises, leaves sticking to his hair, and a story to tell, but doesn’t complain when you put him into the bathtub with Chouma, who’s managed to smear half a bar of chocolate into his hair on the way home from Grandma.

Chougo’s still running around the living room when Chouza returns, asking Udon to catch him, again and again. Udon’s not the fastest, but he’s always a little faster than Chougo.

“You look beautiful,” Chouza mumbles into your ear in greeting, kissing you softly. “Did you do something to your hair?”

You laugh. “Not that I know off. But you look dashing as well, today.” You smile at the pink hue dusting his cheeks at that, and watch fondly as he greets the children, one by one.

“Oh, you’ve put on a little more weight today, I see,” he points out as he throws Chougo up in the air. 

And: “Ebisu told me you’re getting better at identifying Genjutsu? I’m impressed. That’s a great skill to have, especially at your age.” Udon beams, though he tries to hide his pride, head hidden against his fathers chest. “It’s almost time for your earrings too. Can’t have you running around without everyone knowing you’re part of the Akimichi.”

“But I’ll never be part of Ino-Shika-Cho!” Udon reminds him, and there’s hurt in his voice.

“No,” Chouza agrees. “And neither are the twins, I think. But that’s okay. You’re going to be part of your own trio. How do you think the first Ino-Shika-Cho came to live?”

Udon’s still pondering that when Chouma races down the stairs, naked as the day he was born. “Papa is home!” He calls out, and Chouza catches him easily. “I think you forgot your clothes.”

“They’re upstairs,” Chouma points. “Carry me, Papa.”

“Will do,” Chouza sighs, exaggerating the sound. “But oh, how long will I still be able to? You’ve put on weight as well. You’re going to grow so tall, you’ll have to carry me.”

When Chouza brings Chouji downstairs to the table, no headband pulls back his hair. You reach out to drag your hand through the damp mess, and pull him in for a cuddle, mesmerized how he’s still growing. 

“Missed you today,” you tell him quietly, trying not to worry too much about the bruises. Asuma is a good teacher. “Did you have fun?”

“We were helping someone with their garden,” Chouji explains. “It was a little boring, but I found a carrot that I was allowed to eat.”

“And the bruises?”

“Training.” His eyes cut over to where Udon’s sitting, and he smiles. “Do you wanna train this weekend? Asuma-Sensei says my Taijutsu needs practice and Shikamaru hates training.”

“Can I?” Udon’s eyes are wide. “Can I?”

“Course,” Chouza agrees. “But let’s start in our backyard, boys. There we can have an eye on you, and don’t forget: Your Mother is probably the best Taijutsu-teacher you can get next to Might Guy.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” you tell him before sitting down. “After all, you were Might Guy’s Sensei.”

-

Later, after all the kids have gone to bed and the kitchen looks almost clean again, Chouza finds you at the foot of the stairs, pulling you out toward the croaking frogs and twinkling stars.

You half-expect some romantic gesture, after all, it wouldn’t be the first time, but the worry in his features tells you that there’s something else afoot.

“Naruto’s team scored their first C-Rank Mission,” he offers quietly. “Shikaku heard it at the office today. He thinks there’s something fishy going on.”

“How fishy?”

Chouza sighs. “We don’t know for sure, might be a badly labeled B-Mission instead.”

“He’s barely made Genin,” you can’t help but worry, “what if it’s too much for him?”

“He’s got Kakashi,” Chouza pulls you close. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

You sigh. “Yeah, sure. I-”

Chouza nods. “I know. Go. I’ll be here when you return.”

-

Naruto’s apartment is on the second floor, just down the street from the apartment Sasuke lives in.

It’s not that hard to break into either of them, not when you’re a seasoned Jonin anyway.

You’re not quite sure when you started it, those irregular visits. You don’t even know if it’s welcome, the ghost of a touch that you leave, the freshly mopped floors or the stitched up tear in their uniforms that they can’t properly explain.

It’s not exactly necessary to go by right now, not when they’re on mission anyway. 

But worry drives you, like it so often does.

Sasuke is a tidy kid, his pantry always filled with tomatoes and rice, though he seems to dislike the sweets you’ve left for him, the colorful candy always pushed to the back. The mirror in his bathroom is cracked beyond repair, and a few keepsakes are locked away in a cupboard where you found them on the hunt for laundry detergent. 

It feels wrong to look after them this way, but it feels worse to think that no one’s doing it. Taking care of them, like a mother should. 

And maybe you would have stopped, at least looking after Sasuke, who’s seems to have everything under control, if you didn’t know about the way he sleeps, curled into a tight ball under the blankets, the linen creased and wrinkled where he’s dug his hands in, crying.

Mopped floors and warm meals placed by his door won’t keep his world from breaking, but you can’t make yourself stop until both of them leave the village for good.

- 

Years later, the wind carries the telltale scent of Naruto your way, the sharp smell of Fox and Fire, the sparkling taste of his Wind-Chakra that prickles on your tongue when you inhale. You go out of your way to cross his path, looking for injuries or the haunted look of someone who’s been through the worst. 

Naruto looks straight into your eyes though, something like recognition sparking to life in the bright blue. 

You’re used to blank stares, to the way he pouts and waits for some form of punishment after a prank gone wrong, or even a raised eyebrow when you look at him for a little too long.

This is new.

“You-” He starts, and you panic, despite the empty streets.

“Do you wanna go for a bowl of Ramen? My treat.”

“I know you,” he says instead, brows furrowed. “Why do I know you?”

And it’s in the scrunch of his nose that you know. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He doesn’t. And you can’t exactly blame him for that.

-

One knock, then another. “Naruto?” You ask, your voice low. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“I’ve brought food.”

“So?”

“You’re probably starving,” you guess. It’s the end of the month and he’s never been that great with money, even after all those coins you’ve left around his apartment, hoping he’d find them. “And we could talk.”

“What for?”

“You probably got lots of questions.”

The door opens just enough to spot one brilliant blue eye. “Are you going to be honest?”

“As honest as I can be.”

He scrunches his nose again, but opens his door a little wider. “What food did you bring?”

“Your favorite, of course.”

-

Naruto eyes you only after his second bowl of Ramen, when he hunger is less gnawing. 

“Are you my mother?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Not in the biological sense.”

“But I remember-”

“Your parents died the day you were born,” you explain quietly, feeling like the distance between you is finally shrinking, even if there’s still a table separating you. “And I asked if I could take you in. You needed milk, someone to care for you, and I felt like we could do that. Give you a home.”

“But you gave me away.”

“You know about the fox-”

“It’s not my fault!” Naruto bursts out angrily. “I didn’t choose to have him in me! Why is everyone-”

“They took you away,” you interrupt him quietly, and he stops and stares and starts stuffing his mouth with noodles again, clearly unwilling to listen for a minute or so.

“Why would they take me away?”

“To make sure that no Clan had more power than the other.”

“That’s stupid!” Naruto argues. “What about the Uchiha Clan? Or the Hyuuga Clan? They already have more power!”

“Not all adult decisions make sense,” you agree. “But that’s what happened. They took you away and decided that it would be better for you to grow up on your own. I wanted to-” You cut yourself off. You don’t want his pity, you can only admit your mistakes and hope for forgiveness. “I should have fought harder for you. You deserved it.”

“You’re Chouji’s Mom, right?” He asks, surprising you. “So you’ve got your kid. It’s fine.”

“I still care about you.”

“I’ll be Hokage one day,” Naruto explains with the air of someone who doesn’t want to think about the underlying issue, the emotion that feeds everything that is. “And then you’ll have to admire me.”

“I already admire you.”

-

You respect the boundary Naruto has drawn with a heavy heart and a worried mind. Will he have enough to eat? Who’s going to fix the tears in his uniform? What about the milk he constantly forgets to put back into the fridge?

But it’s his decision, too. 

- - -

Naruto

He’s not sure if he’s ever been on Akimichi grounds before. Konoha is big, but not big enough for a kid with nothing to do, no friends to play with. 

Chouji’s always been nice to him, though. Just a little clueless, a little lost in the clouds. 

Naruto’s knees are a little wobbly as he walks the trodden paths toward the Clan-heads residence, ignoring surprised looks by pulling his shoulders higher.

Frogs croak in the creeks, and something in his head shifts.

He’s been here before, he realizes, just as the house comes into view, the windows smiling down at him. He remembers the clothesline out front, though it used to look so much bigger in his dreams, his frog plush pinned to the line, baking in the summer sun. 

“Naruto?” 

He recognizes the boy, too. Udon’s a friend of Konohamaru, snot-nosed and bespectacled, calmer than the other two in his team, and always dressed in dark colors, like Sasuke. 

“I’m here, to, uh, visit, uh…”

“Are you here for Chouji?” Udon asks. “He was in your Class, right?”

“No, uh, his, uh… Mom, Dattebayo. Yes. I’m here for Akimichi-san.”

“Oh?” Udon looks surprised, but not much. “She’s inside. I’ll go get her.” And then he races up the steps, calling out loudly. “Mama?! Naruto is here for you!”

-

Naruto walks in on instinct, not because he’s suddenly nervous. No. He’s just realized that he might as well follow Udon, since you’re inside as well. 

The front door is open, the wood painted dark-red. 

It’s like stepping into a dream, one he’s had night after night as a kid, and some nights still. 

Shoes line the wall and it smells like food, wet earth, and warmth. Colors are everywhere, from the jackets hanging by the door to the pillows on the Couch, up to the drawings hung from the wall. 

The living room is bathed in sun light. Naruto stares at it, knows exactly how it must feel to lie in it, tired and fed, like a lazy cat, with Chouji cuddling into his side, and your voice in his ear, singing a song. 

-

He’s not sure when you’ve pulled him in, nor how long you’ve been staying like this, his head against your chest, eyes closed, unsure if what he’s experiencing is dream or reality, a Genjutsu or a distant memory.

“Welcome home,” you whisper, and he clings to your words, hoping for them to be true.

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You

“Are you satisfied?” Choube asks, watching quietly as Chouji lies face down next to Udon on the baby blanket, both of them equally stuffed after family dinner, despite their meals being very different. Udon’s barely started on solid foods, and Chouji’s helped with most of the dishes, taking your place in the kitchen with his grandmother as a caring teacher. 

You know Choube doesn’t mean the food, though it wouldn’t been ill-fitting. You’d passed half your portion on to Chouza, still worried about his health after his last mission had gone so awry. 

Your husband’s snoring softly on the living room couch, his scarlet hair lit up like a beacon in the evening sun. 

“No,” you admit quietly, listening to the sounds Nana makes in the kitchen, probably creating a second helping of dessert or pouring sake for all of the grown-ups. You should go and help her, but you stay seated, feeling like this conversation is one that needs to be held.

“What’s missing?” Choube asks, and you can’t help your eyes straying from the children to the stump on his left where his arm should be and back to Chouza, still in one piece.

It’s quiet for a while as he gives you the space you need to answer. 

“Children,” you admit finally. 

Choube blinks. You can tell he’s surprised. You wonder what he thought your answer would be. More recognition from the elders as wife of the Clan-head? An insight into their Kekkai-Genkai? A chance for Udon to learn their sacred techniques when you know he’s never going to be able to use them, not with his build anyway? 

You let your hand rest on your belly. It’s gotten firmer over the years, though you can still remember how soft it was after Chouji’s birth, or the feel of his tiny feet as he moved.

“Children,” you repeat once more. “Just one more, and I’ll be satisfied.”

“You’re sure one will be enough?” Choube asks, winking. You laugh.

“I think it will be hard to get even one more,” you admit after a moment of silence. “Chouza is worried about me.”

“He is,” Choube agrees. “Just like you worry about him. It’s what I always tell those annoying old hags when they try to nag me about my grandchildren. Chouza could not have found a better partner for himself and I am lucky he gave up the terrible arrangement I had in mind for him.”

“You’re sweet,” you lean in to kiss his cheek and he laughs. “Well, you are what you eat. Chouji, what do you say? Do you want some chocolate?”

Chouji’s head snaps up from where he’d been snoozing off. “With marshmallows?”

“Well, go ask your grandmother. I’m sure she’s got some tucked away for you.”

-

You draw a bath after you return home, listen to the sounds your family makes as the tub fills. There’s Chouji trying to get one more snack before bed and the squeaks Udon makes when he wants down. Chouza’s quiet mumbling and his heavy steps on the stairs as he hands a wriggling Udon over to you.

Udon instantly falls quiet as you slip into the water with him, looking up at you with wide eyes as the warm water envelopes him.

You’re pretty sure his Chakra style is water based and he soon floats around the giant tub like a content little turtle, arms outstretched.

You keep a close eye on him as you sink deeper into the water, pull him closer when Chouji slips through the bathroom door as well, the crumbs sticking to the corners of his mouth a tell-tale sign that he’s won out once more.

“Can I bathe with you as well?” He asks, already slipping out of his clothes. 

“Course.” He settles into the warm water, his messy hair curling up from the steam. “Did you know that Shikamaru can control his shadow already?”

“He can?” You ask, winking cheekily at Chouza who appears in the doorway as well and tries to hide his blush as you watch him undress. 

“Yes,” Chouji tumbles back into his father as soon as Chouza slips into the water, pulling at his toes in a feeble attempt to hide his nerves. “And Ino’s really good at figuring out other people’s secrets. She says she already knows everyone’s crush!”

“Hmm,” you sneak your foot around Chouza’s ankle in the water and reach out to brush a curl out of Chouji’s damp face. “But you mustn’t forget that you’ve already mastered one of the most difficult parts of your training.”

“Which one?”

“To gain the necessary weight. Can you imagine an Akimich with my statue doing your families Jutsu? That wouldn’t work at all.”

“Right!” Chouji beams back at you, immediately soothened. “I have the biggest appetite of our Clan, Grandpa says.”

“He does?” You tap your lips. “Well, he must know for sure. And what does your father say about your progress?”

Chouji turns to Chouza and you listen to them converse as you watch Udon fall asleep in your arms.

-

“Hey,” Chouza catches you just a few steps from the bed, pulling you in. “You smell good.”

You laugh. “You smell good, too. Freshly washed, and all.”

He nods, lets his head rest on top of yours. “You feel different, too.”

“Yeah,” you sneak one hand under his robe and feel his heartbeat under your palm. “I want to have another child.”

Chouza’s quiet, his breathing steady. You let the quiet settle, give him space and time to find the words he wants to use.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to adopt?”

“I’m open to it, but that’s not what I meant.”

“I tought so.”

“It doesn’t have to be right now. Udon’s just barely started eating solid food and he’s still got his ever-persistent runny nose, but I could have a talk with the doctors, see what’s possible, you know?”

“And if they say it’s not possible?”

You tense involuntarily and Chouza’s hold on you tightens. “Then we’ll worry about it then,” he tries to soothe the hurt. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

You stay quiet for another moment before you lean in for a kiss, giggling when you taste the remnants of Chouji’s favorite cookies on his lips. 

“Can I take you to bed now, oh great Clan-head?”

Chouza giggles right back, his cheeks flushing. “Don’t say it like that.”

-

Life keeps you busy. You mean to make an appointment, but Chouji bruises his ankle and the cherries need to be picked and you have a new Genin team to look after, until more than a month has passed and you’re finally sitting in an examination room that looks like any other you’ve ever been in.

This time, you’ve got a different doctor, though your worry about her youth is soothened by her kind eyes.

“Pregnancy?” She moves through the pages at rapid speed. “Well, I would have to read up on it, but we’ve been doing more and more C-sections lately, so I don’t see why not. Do you want me to do a check-up now to see where we’re at?”

“Yes, please.”

-

You walk home dazed, not quite knowing how you made it home and who you might have passed on your way back.

You’re not surprised to find the house deserted. Chouji’s probably hanging out with Shikamaru and maybe even Ino and you dropped Udon off with his grandparents before you left for the hospital.

You should be getting lunch ready, but you’re stuck in your head, your minds running in never-ending circles.

You know you need to talk to someone about it, anyone, really, but the only one you want to talk to about this is Chouza, and he’s away on a mission for the day.

On another fruitless walk through the house to calm your nerves your eyes catch on an embroidered pillow, a wedding gift from Shibi.

Before you know it, you’ve put your coat back on.

-

Shino watches you through thick black glasses as Shibi prepares tea.

He’s five now, and just as talented in their family's jutsu as Shibi had been at that age, maybe even more. 

“I have a brother now,” he declares suddenly, staring up at you. “Did you know?”

“You have?” You blink in surprise. You didn’t know Shibi had set his eyes out on someone else.

“He’s training at the moment,” Shino explains. “He’s a genius.”

“He is?”

“Yes. Why? Torune has the most dangerous and difficult insect to host, yet he has mastered them already.”

“How old is Torune?”

“Eight.” Shino sidles closer. “You are pregnant.”

You swallow wrong, and cough into your fist, trying to catch your breath. “How did you, I mean, what gives you the idea?”

“My Kikaichu have told me.” He turns to his father who’s putting down the tea. “Father, is she going to lay eggs?”

-

Torune, as it turns out, is an orphaned Aburame. 

It does not surprise you that Shibi took him in nor that Shino has taken a liking to him. Your friend has always had a warm heart, hidden underneath thick layers.

“I worry about Shino,” Shibi admits. “He doesn’t like socializing. The Aburame have never been skilled at it, but he dislikes trying. I’m surprised he talked to you today.”

“Maybe because I’m familiar?”

“No, that’s not it,” Shibi shakes his head. “I’m supposed to arrange a marriage for him like one was arranged for me. But do I not condemn every woman into a life of misery if I force her to be with him and him with her?”

“Can’t you let him start academy first? Have him socialize a little?” All your own problems are forgotten over this. You’ve always cared for Shibi as he’s done for you. If there’s anything you can do for him, you will.

Shibi nods, fiddling with his cup. “I’ve met Choube recently. He talks highly of you.”

“He does,” you admit, a little flustered. “Though not everyone agrees with him.”

“I have seen you slay enemies,” Shibi disagrees. “And I have fought side by side with Chouza. Chouji is his own person, not a product of any of your misgivings. As for Udon, time will tell if he’ll become a Shinobi or not. What have the other Clan’s to offer? There are not many who have brought forth more than one child!”

You move to grasp his hand, a gesture born out of your own household where touch is inevitable. You’re neither surprised nor offended when Shibi pulls back before you can touch him. You know he wanted siblings for Shino. You also know he can’t see himself with any other woman than his late wife. 

Sometimes, life is just not fair.

- - -

Chouza

He finds you in the living room, clinging to the embroidered pillows Shibi gifted them with.

“Are you alright?” He asks, immediately worried. The moonlight highlights your features, but even though there are no visible injuries, you seem troubled.

“I’ve got news,” you admit, getting up. “I’ll warm up your dinner.”

“Dinner can wait.” Chouza manages to grasp you by the waist, pulling you in. “Please?”

You’re still for a second, then a second longer. It takes some time before you soften in his hold, let your head rest against his chest.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chouza’s heartbeat spikes. “Already?”

“Yeah,” you sigh and he can feel your breath ghost over his skin. “With twins.”

-

News travel fast in the village, especially if you’re trying to keep it a secret.

He’s not yet wrapped his head around it fully when Tsume slaps her hand on his back, grinning. “You’ve got a big litter,” she tells him, “I like it.”

The Uchiha seem less impressed, noses upturned at every meeting. They’re one of the bigger Clans, and despite the fact that you’ve been teammates for years with one of their own, they share no sympathy for you.

“One would think people knew about the concept of contraception at a certain age,” Fugaku mutters in passing one time, and barely avoids getting clocked by Tsume.

“Four children are a lot of work,” Hiashi points out after yet another meeting, his comment unnecessary. Chouza knows how much work children are. He’s not worried about that.

-

Shibi brings over tea and rare herbs every other day, hovering around you like Chouza would love to do. 

Inoichi takes him drinking twice, though it only gives him heartburn and a headache in the morning.

It’s Shikaku who takes him deep into the forest, their footsteps swallowed by the thick moss.

“It’s a good thing that Chouji is a little behind,” Shikaku points out when they reach a meadow, the air saturated with the scents of the forest. “He’d never qualify for root.”

Chouza believes him. 

He worries a great deal about Chouji, how he’ll make it in the real world, but at least he won’t have to worry about that.

“If she dies in childbirth, I-”

“You don’t know if she will.”

“You weren’t there the last time,” Chouza argues back. “You didn’t see-”

“No. But you don’t know if she will. None of us know. Shikamaru could die on his very first mission, or never make it to Genin at all. You’re not the only one who is afraid to fall asleep sometimes. But just as we can never take this life for granted, we can’t let the fears stop us.”

Chouza laughs, a dry and humorless sound. “When did you become the wise one between us?”

“When you decided to take a break from it,” Shikaku claps him on the shoulder, hard. “You’re one lucky bastard. You’ve got a devoted wife, sweet kids and the best parents to look after you all. And here you worry about it ending instead of enjoying it.”

Chouza shakes his head. “You make me sound stupid.”

“Sometimes you are.”

-

Chougo and Chouma are born right before lunchtime on a warm october morning. 

Despite his worrying, or maybe because of it, everything goes smoothly, despite the boys size or that they’re a little too eager to come and have some decent food.

“I’m surprised a birth could be this easy,” you point out as Chougo hungrily drinks his first proper meal, ignoring his little brother’s complaints as he’s washed in a corner of the room.

“No more, though,” Chouza begs, his heart still waiting for the other shoe to drop, the bad that will surely follow.

“No more,” you promise with a smile. “You can tell Choube that I’m satisfied.”

- - -

Chouji

“Morning Chougo,” Chouji leans in to press a kiss on his little brothers heads, like Mama does. “Morning Chouma.” 

They make grabby hands at him, but he’s not supposed to lift them out of their beds right away.

“I’ll be back,” he promises, tapping the butterflies that are hanging above their heads so that they dance in the air.

Udon’s already standing in his bed as Chouji walks in, squealing in delight when he lifts him out of bed. 

“Do you wanna go make breakfast?” He asks and Udon nods, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Udon is his favorite little brother at the moment, because Udon is always the happiest to see him, and lets him have the last chip from every bag.

Downstairs, he helps Udon onto the little stool and breaks eggs into the bowl to whisk them. Udon isn’t good at whisking, but he can put in the spices. A little salt, a little pepper. 

Chouji’s just about to put the pan on the stove when he hears steps on the staircase.

“Are you up already?” Papa asks, smiling down at them. “And busy, too?”

“We’re making breakfast,” Chouji explains, while Udon just squeaks “Papa!” and lifts his arms so Papa can pick him up.

“Chouma and Chougo are awake already,” Chouji goes on. “But I didn’t pick them up because I’m not supposed to.”

“That was nice of you,” Papa pats his head. “Do you need help with the eggs? Or do you want to do it alone?”

“I want to do it alone,” Chouji declares, promptly spilling the eggs. 

“Let’s try again,” Papa says, wiping the stove off and handing him more eggs. “Careful, this time.”

-

“Are you sleeping, Mama?” Chouji asks, peering down at you. Your eyes are closed, but you’re not breathing like you do when you’re asleep.

“No, Chouji, I’m just resting,” you blink up at him. “Hey, my little butterfly. What are you doing?”

“I was going to go out and watch the clouds with Shikamaru,” he wriggles in place. “But I wanted to show Ino my little brothers. Can I bring her home later?”

“Course,” you smile. “Do you want a kiss before you leave?”

“Yes, please.” He leans in to press his lips to your cheek first before presenting his cheek to you. “And the other, Mama.”

“And the other, you’re so right.”

“I’ll be home before it gets dark,” he promises, surprised when you pull him back by his jacket.

“Chouji,” you tell him earnestly, as if you’re teaching him how to cross the street or how to hold a Kunai, “I love you very, very much. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” he nods. “You’re my favorite Mama.”

-

At night, he wakes up because his belly hurts. It hurts so much that he has to throw up, all the good food they had for dinner and the snacks he shared with Shikamaru before.

He’s sticky and smelly and his belly hurts, so he clambers out of bed and down the hallway, follows the smell of heavy earth and warm milk to his parents bed.

“Mama?” He asks the faint outline of your body, “Papa?”

You wake up first, and he soon finds your hands reaching for him in the darkness.

“What happened, Chouji?”

“I threw up. My belly hurts.”

“Oh, sweet butterfly,” you climb out of bed and hug him tight, despite the smell and the stickiness and the darkness around. “Let’s draw you a bath, huh? Get you clean and warm. Shall I make you some ginger tea?”

“With cookies?”

“With cookies,” you promise. “The ones Grandma makes for when you're sick.”

-

Ino knows everyone’s secrets and Shikamaru knows all the things Ino doesn’t know. They are smart and fast, but he is strong. He can open the jars Mama can’t open and lift all his little brothers at the same time and Grandpa says he’s going to become a big Akimichi, just like his father and his Grandpa and all the other Clan-heads before him, bigger even than a house. 

He likes the academy because he can sit next to Shikamaru and he likes Iruka-Sensei because he doesn’t nag him when he eats during class, and he likes Naruto, even though Naruto doesn’t seem to remember him, or the hours spent in the sun in their living room, playing with plushy toads and drinking Mama’s milk.

He likes all of his classmates, from Shino, who only talks about bugs, to Sakura who’s got really nice hair, to Kiba who has a little puppy, and Hinata, who’s very very quiet. He even likes Sasuke, despite him keeping his nose high and pretending he knows everything better, because Sasuke has no family left, just like you and you said that it can make people mean and bitter when they lose their family. 

So Chouji keeps offering them his snacks and his time, his ear and his shoulder, until you call him home for dinner. 

Soon he’ll be Genin and have his ears pierced and learn how to be a proper Shinobi. Soon, he’ll be a grown-up, just like Papa.

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my old Shibi pals:

-

“I’m worried,” you whisper into the wind, your Kikaichu the only companion. “I’m worried.”

-

The future is a fragile thing, and you don’t quite dare to grasp for it, lest it breaks.

It is rare for an Aburame to attend the Academy alongside other children, and you try to make the best use of your time spent there, listening in on the conversations of others, letting your Kikaichu crawl into sleeves and folds of foreign cloth.

“You’re an Aburame, right?” Shisui asks, somewhere in your second week there, introducing himself. There’s no need for that. Everyone knows the Uchiha symbol. 

You nod, wordless as always, waiting for him to drop the conversation. “What kind of bug do you carry?”

Your eyes widen behind thick glasses. He apologizes. “Are they called something else? Is bug a derogatory word?”

“Bug is fine,” you hear yourself say. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

His friend laughs, loud, but not in a mean way. “You’re not going to tell her about your Kekkai Genkai either, right?”

“Oh,” he seems to realize. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that it was confidential.”

Behind you, voices rise, quiet still, but growing. Why is he talking to that girl? Is the Aburame pushing herself onto him? They’ve got no shame, I can tell you.

You bid him goodbye before he can utter another word, and manage to grab a seat at the back for the next lesson, far far away from him, but unable to take your eyes off the back of his neck, the curls of his hair there against the soft paleness of his skin.

-

The day Shisui’s best friend dies, you sneak out of your room around midnight, out of the house on quiet feet.

You’ve never done something like that before, so you doubt your parents will worry or lie awake wondering if you could. 

The streets lie cool and deserted, and it’s not that hard to find a sturdy branch to climb onto, and another one after that, until you’re sitting high above the ground, the Uchiha residence glowing faintly in the background. Someone always leaves a light on.

Your Kikaichu have tasted his Chakra before, because you used to be curious during boring lessons, or worried after training. You know they’ll find him easily, carry with them the tiniest blueberry blossoms, their fragrance sweet and soothing, melting on his tongue if he dares to consume him.

He finds you easily. He must have been watching you as well.

His head is heavy as it sinks against your shoulder, his silence loud in the stillness of the night. 

You’ve never had a friend to mourn, but you suppose if there was one, it would be him.

-

“Itachi?” You ask into the darkness, jealousy ripe on the tip of your tongue. “Again?”

“Don’t be angry,” Shisui begs, his voice weary with exhaustion. “He needs me.”

“I need you, too,” you remind him, feeling older than you are. “And you know we can’t meet as often as I’d like. With missions-”

His hand is warm around yours, his hold strong despite your shared youth. It’s not only age that brings experience, you know. You wonder if it’s too early to ask for his hand. Too early to hear his rejection.

An Uchiha and an Aburame. The world has never heard of such a thing, will never hear of it. You’re promised to a different man, and the Uchiha will surely find a more suitable woman for him. One who carries the Sharingan, her eyes as red as your heart bleeds.

-

You’re barely thirteen when you kiss him for the first time, clumsy and with too much teeth, your Kikaichu digging their pincers into his soft skin as you try to consume him whole. 

Your love never stops being hungry for more, and he laughs, the sound much too light for a boy who has seen so much already.

“The Uchiha Clan will change,” he promises, in the darkness of yet another stolen night, breathes it against the wind so it doesn’t carry his words to people who shouldn’t hear it. “And we’ll have a future. A shared one. I promise.”

You love him enough to believe him. But you’re too much of a realist to stop worrying. 

-

You’re not supposed to meet him that day. 

Shisui had warned you ahead of time, dropped messages into deep wells and secret places, had found you in the dead of night for a goodbye kiss the week before.

“Just in case,” he’d mumbled. You’d held him tight, worrying. But he’d promised everything would turn out well. He’d promised he’d make it out alive.

And still…

“I’m worried,” you whisper into the wind after he’s left, your Kikaichu the only companion. “I’m worried.”

-

You’re not supposed to meet him that day. But there’s always at least one of your Kikaichu on him, there to alert you, should something happen, there to help, should he need it.

You’re the one who finds his body, not because you stumble upon it, but because Itachi had been unable to send you away after Shisui fell. 

You’re body is agony and despair, and you can tell Itachi’s afraid you’ll follow his friend down into the water.

“Go!” You tell him when he’s still unmoving. “Fulfill your promise!”

It’s the last you see of him before he murders his clan. You wonder if he knew of the poisoned bugs you sent ahead of him, targeting those who’d done the most.

-

They say it’s a suicide, but you’ve found traces of poison in his body, a poison you’re well acquainted with. You take your findings to the Hokage. He dismisses your concerns.

Your family grows worried.

Root members show up at your doorstep, some of them threatening you more subtly than the others. 

They try to take Shino, and it’s Torune who steps in for him, for you, for the whole Clan. 

You begin planning Danzo’s assassination the very next day. 

Maybe you won’t succeed. Maybe more arms and heads will grow where you cut his off, but you can’t not try.

You can’t mourn Shisui without hunting down the one who caused it all to end.

You can’t live in a world where your love doesn’t.

for: @girlvrs

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