42. That’s My Son

Shin handed his bag over to Kiba, making sure to remind him not to breathe a word of it to Tsume. Then he fell into step beside Sasuke and headed home with him.

Tsume had warned him—explicitly, unmistakably—to stay away from the Uchiha. But Sasuke’s parents had been nothing but kind to him, and there were things Shin needed to understand. Things only that household could tell him.

He’d been here once before. The route was already mapped in his memory, and before long the two of them passed through the gates of the Uchiha compound.

“I’m home.”

“Pardon the intrusion.”

They stepped through the front door together. Mikoto emerged from a back room at the sound of their voices, and her face lit up the moment she spotted Shin.

“Shin! You came!”

Sasuke’s mouth twitched. He couldn’t recall the last time his mother had looked that delighted just because he walked through the door. You’d think Shin was her actual son.

“Aunt Mikoto.” Shin bowed politely.

“Come in, come in.” Her smile was radiant.

They shed their sandals at the entryway and padded inside. Shin’s eyes drifted across the room—not searching for anything in particular, just taking stock.

“Is… Uncle Fugaku home?” He hesitated over the word. Uncle. He’d weighed the alternatives and settled on it; Fugaku had never been anything but civil to him.

“He’s here,” Mikoto said, still smiling.

A sliding door opened at the far end of the hall. Fugaku stepped out, regarded Shin for a long moment, and gave a measured nod.

“Shin. You came.”

“Yes, sir.” Shin dipped into a bow.

“Father.” Sasuke bowed as well.

“I was just about to start dinner,” Mikoto said brightly. “Shin, you’ll stay and eat with us, won’t you?”

“That’s… I’d hate to impose.”

“Impose?” Mikoto crouched down in front of him, her voice soft and warm. “I’m genuinely happy you’re here.”

Something in her expression—the unguarded sincerity of it—told him she meant every word. He felt it settle somewhere beneath his ribs, quiet and warm.

He nodded.

“Wonderful!” Her whole face brightened.

“And Shin—” Fugaku spoke from where he stood, his tone unhurried, almost gentle. “You’re welcome here anytime. Treat this house as your own.”

“You’re too kind,” Shin said quickly.

Sasuke watched both his parents orbit around Shin like he was the center of gravity, and the feeling that crept through his chest was something dangerously close to being overlooked.

“I’m going to train.” His voice came out clipped. He turned and headed for the training ground behind the house without waiting for a response.

……

“Sasuke?” Shin watched him leave, confused.

“Don’t mind him.” Mikoto chuckled softly. “I need to get dinner started. Make yourself comfortable—or go keep Sasuke company at the training ground, if you’d like.”

“Thank you for the trouble.”

“None of that.” She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.

The living room fell quiet. Just Shin and Fugaku.

The silence thickened immediately.

“How is Sasuke doing at the Academy?” Fugaku broke it after a long pause. He settled into a cross-legged seat on the tatami. At his gesture, Shin knelt across from him.

“Very well. He excels in every area.”

“And the boy who outperforms him?”

It took Shin a beat to realize Fugaku was talking about him. The tone was almost teasing—an odd register for a man who rarely smiled.

Shin weighed his answer. If Sasuke had been losing to someone else, Fugaku might have been disappointed. But with Shin, it was different. Whether Shin held the top spot or Sasuke did, Fugaku seemed willing to accept either outcome.

“I just have a few tricks. Sasuke is every bit as capable.”

Fugaku shook his head, unconvinced.

“Your shuriken marks are on par with Sasuke’s, from what I hear.”

Shin understood the implication. The Uchiha were known for their shuriken mastery—it was practically in the blood.

The thought of shuriken led to Shisui, and something behind Shin’s eyes dimmed.

“What happened to Shisui was a terrible loss.” Fugaku sighed.

Shin’s head snapped up. His eyes went wide.

He knows.

Fugaku knew that Shisui had taught him shuriken technique.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Shin’s mind raced. Why would Fugaku know about that? Shisui would never have volunteered something so damaging to himself—teaching clan secrets to an outsider. Unless—

The memory surfaced: that day at the Memorial Stone, when he’d encountered Fugaku. The gap in his recollection. The missing minutes.

Fugaku had placed him under genjutsu. He’d learned everything directly from Shin’s own mind.

The pieces fell into place. None of them were comforting. Shin lowered his head, his expression settling into something flat and still.

“You don’t need to worry.” Fugaku seemed to read every thought passing through him. A faint, unconcerned smile. “Under normal circumstances, teaching clan techniques to an outsider is forbidden.”

Silence.

“But if the outsider is you, that changes things.”

Shin blinked.

“Shin.” Fugaku’s gaze rested on the boy’s bowed head. “You don’t need to be afraid of anything.”

“Everything the Uchiha have—”

“Any of it. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Shin went rigid. He didn’t respond. Didn’t dare.

The silence stretched until it calcified.

“What really happened to Shisui?” The words left him low and measured.

Another silence.

“The investigation is ongoing. Nothing useful has turned up.” Fugaku’s voice was careful, deliberate.

“I see.”

“Don’t let it weigh on you too heavily. Shisui wouldn’t want to see you like this.” A sigh.

Shin smiled bitterly to himself, then raised his head and forced a proper one onto his face.

“If you ever have questions about shuriken technique, you can bring them to me,” Fugaku offered.

They spoke for a while longer after that—school, classmates, inconsequential things. Fugaku kept circling back to the same gentle insistence: Come to the compound more often. You’re always welcome.

Then Sasuke burst through the door, flushed and breathless, his eyes blazing.

“Father—I did it! I can do the Great Fireball Jutsu!”

Shin looked up, startled.

“Is that so?” The corner of Fugaku’s mouth lifted—barely, almost imperceptibly.

The lake.

Fugaku, Shin, and Sasuke stood at the water’s edge. Sasuke was at the front. Fugaku had pulled Shin along too, saying he should watch and see if it interested him.

Fugaku and Shin stood behind Sasuke, watching. Sasuke stared at the lake’s surface, jaw tight.

He drew several deep breaths. His hands began moving—steady, practiced, each seal crisp and deliberate.

Don’t fail.