#shisuixchicho

Chicho Akimichi did not tend to think of himself as interesting.

He had interesting traits, for sure. He was blonde, a rarity amongst his clan. He had a head for numbers and a memory like a steel trap, which was why he was the assistant to the Clan Head. He had a knack for kenjutsu and then there was the-

well.

Chicho had interesting traits, best to leave it at that.

Still in the grand scheme of things Chicho did not think he merited very much. He knew he was loved, knew he was very good at what he did, and knew that if his small cog was removed from the machine it might lurch a whole lot but it would keep going and that was fine.

“Don’t you want to make something of yourself?” Chicho was sometimes asked- mainly by well meaning comrades in the missions offices and the archives. He normally gave them The Eyebrow and they left him alone.

Sometimes, though.

Sometimes.

Chicho’s small office had a very good view of the street and on cooler spring days most ninja ended their training early so they could accomplish small errands or enjoy the weather. Since the road past the Compound was a major artery of Konoha (and had all the best food carts on it besides) it was inevitable that ninja coming home from the practice fields walked by.

It was inevitable that he walked by.

Chicho always laid his pen down when he saw Uchiha Shisui coming because experience had taught him that if he didn’t he would be rewriting a drafted alliance proposal to the Yakamura Clan of the Land of Water at three in the morning.

“Hi.” Chicho always said, though he knew even if Shisui could hear him (entirely possible) it was but one word amongst many in the busy street.

Shisui made Chicho want to try.

Try what? Who knew. Playing music, maybe. Finally participating in  a public kenjutsu match. Baking the butter cookies he helped Reiko with every fall. Something that made him feel good, something a little unusual but not unexpected. Something that colored a world that existed to Chicho in a kind of eternal sepia, neither good nor bad, just- there.

Chicho knew a lot about Shisui, as was proper for an assistant to the Head of the Akimichi; Shisui was, after all, a foremost member of an allied clan. He was an accomplished warrior, a gifted orator. He had a close friendship with Uchiha Itachi, and was by and large the choice for diplomatic meetings. Shisui was on the shortlist for ‘excellent marriage material’ in every clan’s archive.

Chicho Akimichi lived a quiet life with remarkable skill. He heard, he wrote, and when called upon and the situation required it he fought and efficiently killed. He was a small cog in a machine that would lurch without him.

He knew he’d jump out in an instant if Shisui was on the other side.

But Shisui Uchiha didn’t know he existed, and had no idea that Chicho Akimichi had said hello to him nearly every day for the past three years.

—

Shisui Uchiha lived a life of complications.

He was an Uchiha, and so expected to be strong; he was descended of Kagami, who had first crossed the seemingly insurmountable chasm between his Clan and the office of the Hokage, and so he was expected to be diplomatic. He exhibited serenity under pressure and so was a leader, but was not in line for succession of the Head of the Uchiha and so also a follower. He had to laugh because he put others at ease but was also meant to be stern as a good example to younger clan members.

It was exhausting.

Shisui knew he was important to his clan, and was proud of them and the progress everyone had collectively made. Disaster had been avoided and while he had no small part in being sure of it, he knew that without the drive to change nothing would have.

So he could tolerate being pulled in many directions but occasionally it overwhelmed him.

Itachi made sure he had his moments, in a roundabout way; when they came back from training they always walked up the street by the Akimichi compound. Shisui would tease his cousin- 'this has nothing to do with Chouichi, does it?’- just to watch that shy grin and slight blush. Itachi was a young man in love and Shisui was loathe to stomp on that, no matter the storm it might create in the future.

Besides there was something calming about being lost in the bustle of the food carts. No one there ever tried to pull Shisui aside for a quick question that became an hour long meeting. No one ever asked him for extra training or tried to butter him up for the latest debate. There were people ninja and civilian all looking to slake some kind of hunger.

There was also the window.

Shisui could see it better if he activated his sharingan and without fail he often did. It let him see into the small office, see the inkstones all neatly lined up and the brushes and pens beside them, the niches in the walls designed to hold paper varying in color from everyday white to a beautiful pastel red.

It let him see the scribe, too.

They weren’t that far apart in age, Shisui and Chouza’s loyal Chicho; two years, perhaps. Shisui didn’t remember seeing him in Academy, but then he’d rather been rushed through and Chicho had never tried for the rank of Jounin, content with his desk work and his chunin status.

Only a fool thought a scribe less dangerous than a warrior, and Shisui was no fool. He had watched Chicho write in meetings, a quick and efficient shorthand. There was hardly a note passed or a inter clan treaty read that hadn’t had Chicho’s soft touch on it, a piece of silk wrapped around a needle.

Chicho had a way of tucking hair behind his ear when he wrote that Shisui found endearing, and a way of speaking that he admired. Chicho was like Chouichi in that he would absolutely tell a person to go to hell, but unlike Itachi’s stubborn beau he could make whomever he was talking with look forward to the trip.

Shisui would readily admit that peeking into an Akimichi window for a few seconds to a minute while walking home from training was probably a bad idea, and if he was anyone BUT who he was would be immediate grounds for suspension from all active duty and through retraining in respecting the power of his dojutsu.

It was worth it, though, because Chicho always saw him.

And Chicho always said hello.

Chicho didn’t say hello in his office like he did in public. It was an intimate word, one full of something like longing.

Maybe that was just Shisui’s hopeful thinking.

Chicho didn’t demand Shisui be anything- not diplomatic or stern, easygoing or take charge. Chicho was happy to see him and say hello and Shisui was happy to watch him do it.

—

“So.” Chouichi leaned on a railing, watching Itachi watch Shisui so subtly that it was almost blatant watch Chicho through his window. “Should we do something about this?”

“It could make a mess.” Itachi said.

“Whirligig, we are a mess.”

Itachi chuckled. “I suppose we are. It would make him happy.”

“I’d take anything that would make Chicho happy. The guy gets excited to go buy new inkstones.”

Itachi smiled. “This would be a true test of our skills, wouldn’t it?”

“Straight up S rank.” Chouichi agreed, tugging on his ponytail to tighten it. “Wanna go get Hana?”

“A three man cell is the suggested protocol.”