Chapter Text
It is a beautiful thing, death.
That is a secret which only Miyu knows.
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Her sharingan appears on a cloudy day.
Miyu would never have expected it, really. She can't remember a single thing which occurs, only the skies shimmering with rain and the blood running down her face.
Red soaks her eyelids.
Miyusmiles.
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Her first steps are shaky. She can remember them still; one, then two, then three.
Her parents seem proud.
"She'll be a prodigy, just like Itachi, you'll see," her father assures the elders, all certain of this next genius child. "A second heir."
Uchiha Miyu's face is slightly paler than the rest. Just a shade. Her hands are shakier, shivering in the cold wind. Mikoto clasps her child's hands to hers, fingers red as she trembles.
They don't notice anything at the start.
She remembers a faint flash of red, laughing- dattebane -then she sees the yellow, flashing and fading into her life like roses and sunflowers. There are children too, and just like her steps, they are picked off - one, then two, and then it's just a third silvery haired figure who she doesn't see again for long past.
By the time her first winter leaves, it's obvious that there's something wrong. Itachi had managed his first word months before this.
Her parents get worried. She hears Mikoto plead with Fugaku to take her to a doctor, to find out what's wrong with her, but it's all for nothing. Her second winter passes without a word.
Itachi is not much of a presence in her life. She can see a few days where she plays with him, and then life goes all too soon because he's already on the battlefield, waiting and watching as the masses collapse, as the thousands die.
She's there too, strangely enough. Does she remember? Mikoto scowls and scolds for days after, but she cannot change those memories, not now; not ever.
By the third winter, Uchiha Miyu is a lost hope.
And she has not yet uttered a single word.
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She can recognise her few precious people as they fade away from her, now. Fugaku is busy for weeks on end, training Itachi, then at the Police Force as he works overtime on the astonishing number of cases which call in each day.
Clan meetings arise. The elders talk about Uchiha Miyu and what to do with her.
Isolate her,they say.Hide her from everyone else. They need not know that she is our weakness.
Because that's all that she is. A weakness. It's not as if she can't hear those whispers following her around, thatincapable, disabledchild. Her parents are already pushed for a second heir, because Miyu isn't even considered.
Mikoto fights back, strong and sturdy as she remembers her mother, but there's no use. Fugaku, for all he cares, is soon persuaded into the other side.
It's for her owngood, they tell her.
Miyu only opens her mouth once as if to scream, and yet she can only look at her parents with contempt at their betrayal as she is shoved into a room.
Slowly, Miyu slips away from the public eye.
Itachi goes to the Academy soon enough, inevitably. She hears them downstairs, meeting daily for dinner as Mikoto forces them to be there. Something coils up beneath her ribcage and she wonders what it is. Jealousy, maybe?
The days pass on, slowly, rhythmically, and Miyu almost doesn't keep track of them except for the three times a day when Mikoto slides the door open to bring her food. Her mother does not leave her alone, of course.
"I tried," she tells Miyu, burying her hand in her hair like those many days ago. "I had to argue with the council, in front of the whole clan as well as your father, but I'm just another housewife. They wouldn't hear of it."
Miyu nods mechanically at those repeated words, but ultimately is left staring at Mikoto's back as her mother leaves.
Then, for the first time in two years, it's understandably shocking when Mikoto says something different.
"Come down to dinner," she urges.
There's a sad smile on her mother's face. Miyu tilts her head sideways.
"The elders agreed - of course with some pushing from your father - of your reiteration into society."
Society, Miyu wonders. The same society that shunned her, that locked her up. By the time she gets older, the Uchiha clan will no longer be able to hide her from public view as they wish.
"Just try," Mikoto urges. "I'll understand if you don't want to."
Miyu looks up at this mother-figure, that dark-eyed, gentle face, and says nothing.
There is really no choice in this, despite Mikoto's assurances of her free will, so the next evening, Miyu walks the few metres into the dining room for the first time in two years and kneels down next to Itachi on the tatami mats.
A second passes. Awkward silence.
Then Mikoto smiles. "It's lovely of you to join us, Miyu-chan," she says placing a hand over the girl's like they once did years ago.
Miyu's lips twist as she swallows.
Fugaku coughs, before plastering a gentler expression onto his face. "Yes. Lovely."
Miyu turns to Itachi.
"Ah. Good to see you, Miyu," he says, as if this will solve everything and she has not been locked up at all.
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Another year later, there is finallyprogress.
Mikoto's always worried for her, especially when she first steps out on the streets. Most shinobi will shove her away as she comes to buy groceries, spit on the ground where she walks, just like that - just because they don't know how it makes her truly feel.
Or perhaps they do. Maybe that's the point.
Mikoto almost cries, and then she remembers she has no-one to cry to, because Kushina is gone and her daughter isaliveand thriving with the weight of the world.
And then the shock happens.
I want to go to the Academy,Miyu writes.I want to learn, just like Itachi.I want to be a kunoichi.
Her parents look at each other. Itachi almost drops his fork in surprise (but doesn't, because he'sperfect.)
"It wouldn't do much harm," Fugaku mulls it over. "Not if she really wanted to."
"No," Mikoto protests, "She can't! Imagine how they'd treat her, how she'd be bullied...!"
"She'll experience it throughout her life, Mikoto," her father replies wearily, placing a hand on his forehead. "She must learn. At least, in any case, the basics. There is no use staying here and learning to be a housewife - no one will want her!" He lower his voice into a whisper, though Miyu can still every word he says.
No-one...wants me,Miyu thinks. It doesn't matter much to her. That's how its been - that's what's been drilled into her from day one. No-one wants you if you have a disability, or are handicapped, or can't communicate.
It must show on her face, because Mikoto's eyes turn steely gray.
"Miyu-chan," she says, passing a hand over her daughter's hair. "Of coursewe want you. We're your family."
There's something so ironic in that statement that almost makes her laugh.
Fugaku's eyes narrow irritably. "She must go, and that's final. I won't have any time to teach her, so there's no use fretting about it now."
From the corner of her eye, imperceptibly, she notices Itachi flinch.
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Sasuke is born on a day when the sun glares out at them all, his cries healthy and loud over the humid Konoha air.
Miyu is on her way to take a small errand. Nothing much, just a little way out of Konoha. It was the council's idea, especially with the number of guests coming around to see the newborn child.
She's not even out of sight from the compound when Itachi appears behind her suddenly, just as he always does. He was always so good at this, Miyu muses. If not for the faint chakra signature, she wouldn't even have noticed him.
His hitai-ate shines proudly on his forehead, that cruel reminder of how he's only a year older than her yet is already a... genin.
Miyu has no need to see him now. She paces ahead, ignoring him like is routine, watching at the periphery of her vision to see if he'll leave.
Itachi doesn't take the hint.
"Miyu..."
She pauses, then starts to walk on again with a shake of her head, cutting him off.
"Don't you want to see Sasuke?" Itachi asks, simple adoration on his face at his brother's name. None of it is for her. But then, exactly when was the last time a child looked up atMiyuin awe or shock?
She flicks her hand at him once he still persists, even walking her down to the gate. Someone stares.
"Miyu,"Itachi repeats, assembling his blank face once more.
She stops. Sighs a little, then lazily points to the direction of the compound, not visible from their vantage. The idea soon dawns on Itachi's head, because his face contorts into one of realisation.
Well.
"You-you were in that room for a year..." he bites his lip, the only indicator of an otherwise non-existent expression. "They don't need you there. Or rather, they don'twantyou there."
She wonders if anyone has ever clued this poor boy in.
Miyu nods, then tries to turn away. She's already conveyed her message - the ongoing display of 'homage' is still going on, and there's no use going there now to face disapproving elders and aggressively insulting strangers.
Itachi places his hand on her shoulder. Miyu jerks, a sudden, flinching movement.
He removes his hand as quickly as it came, just as if she were a hot coal. "Oh. I'll be leaving now, then. Sasuke will be in the room next to mine."
She wonders why he has to say the last part.
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She wonders about it right until her curiosity is provoked.
Later on, when everyone is asleep and the night shrouds day in a cover of darkness, Miyu creeps out into the nursery room, right next to Itachi's.
Inside the crib, Sasuke shifts and jolts around until his eyes flit open.
Oh? The movement comes as a slight shock.
The baby's pudgy hands are soft white, but not enough for her to touch. Miyu reaches out to his face, her fingernail a centimetre away from his cheek.
Sasuke gurgles and laughs.
She's flattered. Miyu stares down at the baby in front of her, wondering whether he'll go back to sleep soon. Itachi once said that any baby would cry when she's within a one-metre radius, but she doesn't think that's true.
(At least, shethinks.)
His eyes blink; open-shut-open-shut.
Dark eyes, black hair, and that trademark Uchiha smirk, Miyu muses. It won't be long until her brother gets the sharingan.
Immediately, Sasuke begins to cry. It's a noisy, howling sort of crying, and it goes on for so long that the lights switch on in the other room.
Oh. Maybe her brother wasn't wrong after all.
Footsteps.
The red light of a sharingan.
Ta-ta, little Sasuke-kun, Miyu waves at him.I hope you don't get killed before you reach ten.
Then she slips out.
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"She doesn't talk,Fugaku!" Miyu hears her mother cry again. Her father looks confused.
"I thought she couldn't...?" he answers, puzzled.
"Her teacher called. She's not communicating with anyone, Fugaku, and I'm scared. Her sensei said that she'sdisassociatingin class, not willing to even sit with anyone at lunch or spar with anyone."
"Hm."
Mikoto stills. "...Did we make the wrong choice in sending her too early?"
He sighs. It's monotony. "Lack of speech is not an impairment for a kunoichi. Social life is not a necessity for a kunoichi. As long as she can fight in a battle, she'll be fine."
That's all he cares about. It's for the well-being of the clan, she's told.
Mikoto asks her, once.
I don't want to be with other children,Miyu thinks. There's no use in it anyway.I don't want to.
"Maybe she'll do so once she's comfortable, okaa-san," she hears Itachi say. His voice is faint.
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A few things happen in succession after that. Itachi makes a friend, one from the inexplicable network of inbreeding which their clan is founded from, and trains with him almost every day.
There are crows following her brother, she notices. They flock to him as if he holds bread in his palm, like he is their heir as much as of the Uchiha. Miyu tries to touch one, but it startles her, flying away in a burst of feathers.
Once, Mikoto sends her to bring lunch. It's her off day, so Miyu easily agrees.
Shisui sits, perched on a ledge with her brother as he throws a kunai. His hair is black and slightly curly, though not enough to be straight, she notices.
The kunai flies, hitting the target in the edges of her vision. She turns, a peculiar look on her face.
Itachi spots Miyu immediately with his activated sharingan and groans. Shisui looks up from where he is readying another kunai.
"It's my sister," Itachi explains, by way of explanation.
"The Uchiha hime?" he asks in a tone of curiosity as he tries to prod. Itachi groans again.
Miyu freezes in her tracks. A...hime? She might have been called a princess in another world, somewhere far, far better, but there's no sign of that here.
"She doesn't talk to strangers," Itachi says irritably. "Not even to us. You'll have no luck."
"What does that have to do with it?" Shisui asks, tilting his head. "She's still a kunoichi, right? Or training to be one, I guess?"
"...I suppose so."
"Miyu-san...? Itachi-chan is showing...emotion?" Shisui places his hand over his heart in an exaggeratedly mournful tone. "How wonderful! I've been trying to get him to that for ages, but he's never even smiled!"
"She doesn't talk to strangers," Itachi repeats patiently. "And I do show emotion, just not to you."
Shisui ignores the snipe just as Miyu rolls her eyes.
"Wait-" his eyes swerve rapidly from Itachi to her. He looks somewhat nonplussed, though it could just be a trick of the light. "So...uh, how do you communicate? Like ask for stuff and all?"
"She'll just take it," Itachi replies. "Anyway-"
"-Uchiha Miyu?" Shisui cuts him off.
She doesn't speak.
"Miyu-san?"
"Shisui,"Itachi reprimands. "I told you she doesn't sp-"
"Would you like to train with us?" Shisui rattles off quickly, undeterred by her silence.
Miyu counts the seconds in her head.
Shunshin no Shisui. He's already made a name for himself, despite having yet to reach his teenage years. He's only a couple years older than Miyu, but already a jōnin.
She'd like to stay out of that, thank you very much.
Itachi stops, frowning. The request is undoubtedly innocent, though Miyu wouldn't care either way.
Looking at his eager, waiting face, Miyu almost feels sorry to turn him down. Not.
She shakes her head.
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Her brother slips away from her, the moth who leaves the flame. Everything gets thrown away, for that little brother of hers who is barely out of the cradle.
Miyu wonders if she would have ever been evenslightlyspecial. If she was able to talk, that is. She would have been their second heir, the child always doted on. Sasuke wouldn't even have had to be born-
She can see it, though. She hears, silently listening to Itachi's soft whispers until Sasuke's old enough to talk back, Mikoto's sudden scream of joy as he manages out a full sentence by himself.
They were scared, Miyu knows. Afraid that he'd turn out like...like her. With a disability. Incapable, like everyone calls her.
She imagines what would have happened if he wasn't able to talk at all, but then-
It's really only her. It must be. There's nothing genetic about it, just that the problem lies with Miyu. They weren't wrong to shun her, were they?
It's just...she's ashamed to admit it, but she was rather hoping that Sasuke would be like her. So that she'd know for sure, that she wasn't the root of all her hardships.
Perhaps that's why they all hate her.
Miyu nee-san, why can't you talk?Sasuke asks, and she's left with nothing in return to say.
Mikoto proudly describes how Sasuke met all his targets in today's training. Her father's face lights up.
And Miyu watches. (She always watches.)
Out nearby the Naka River, Miyu will sit on the branches of the old apple tree and watch as the Uchiha children play. They're too far away for her to hear, and even if they did notice her, they wouldn't say anything. She's lost count of how many times she's been pointed out by mothers asthatgirl, or even just ignored. Forgotten.
Laughter. She can hear it carry through on the breeze. Miyu wonders if that would have been her childhood, if she were able to talk.
Then again, Itachi is a prime example of perfection, and yet he never had a childhood either. Still doesn't, even.
Dawn, then dusk. Dawn, then dusk.
The nightingales are very beautiful in autumn. She hums to them, and they to her, just as the sun sinks down again. Itachi doesn't know, but he will never know. She summons one a few weeks after her eighth winter.
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They are nominated for the chunin exams not soon after. Really, with the aversion she has, it's not surprising that they've been only told this late.
"Well," Yuzuru tells her, flicking a kunai at his target right above her head. "It's not that we're not prepared, but..."
It's more like they don't want to do this at all. Yuzuru is a swift killer, just like her. They both cannot bear to see those deaths staring up at them in the face, haunting them until there's nothing left. (Who's to say there's nothing left anyway?Miyu thinks.)
Miyu's hand is repetitive, smooth. Her fingers brush against the cold kunai as she throws it, arcing in a familiar spiral. She's done it more times than she can count.
Thud. Thud.
"But then, you know, I guess we can't stay genin for another year," Yuzuru continues, huffing as his kunai misses by an inch. "Your brother...Uchiha Itachi won his tournament atnine.Last year, even. They want that to happen to us."
Her eyes flicker to him for the barest hint of a second. Her teammate, sitting just under Miyu's target, throws the knife in a fluid motion, and it embeds itself into the tree just a centimetre above her head. She doesn't flinch.
"So? Will you sign the paperwork? They can't force us, not legally anyway." He winces as he utters the last statement, but it soon slides off his face. "I guess we can't keep delaying this forever."
Miyu nods.
The movement is slow. Inconspicuous. It would undoubtedly mean nothing to an outsider.
But then, Yuzuru isn't an outsider. He catches it, his white-blonde Yamanaka hair twisting over his shoulder as he turns to look at her. "I'll do so too then."
He seems resigned.
Their team (this brittle, bare skeleton of what was once a four member squad) seems to droop in a perpetual gloom. It's strange, really - isn't Miyu the only one who can remember the memory with stunning clarity, right up to the millisecond. Courtesy of that damned sharingan, after all.
"I don't really think we can refuse, in any case - this is the second time they've asked, isn't it?"
She holds up three fingers to correct his purposeful mistake. They both know what it's about. The Hokage is depending on the Uchiha-Yamanaka duo to join the chūnin exams, just to boost Konoha's popularity, if nothing else.
Yuzuru looks more downcast than she gives him credit for. "It's just for show, then. He doesn'treallythink we can make chūnin."
That, she doubts. Miyu taps her fingers on the crook of her knee and watches his expression as he waits for an affirmation.
"Who knows when they'll have another exam in Konoha?"
Ah. The war. It's been so recent that Konoha is fresh out of it, almost ready and waiting for someone to attack them. Their infrastructure is already crumbling - just look at the Uchiha. Then again, no other shinobi village is fully secure either.
Thud. Thud.
Silence.
Miyu's fingers twist into compliance, and Yuzuru flashes her a peace sign in agreement, a little more appeased as he convinces himself.
All is quiet. She won't feel safe like this again, not for a long while.
Perhaps not ever.
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"You absolutely cannot-!"
"-The clan will not care, Mikoto. You saw how they disrespected the Uchiha. The Uchiha, Mikoto, are the best of their kind! And they let us go - just like that!"
The plate clatters with a thud, but doesn't quite seem to crack.
Miyu flinches.
Mikoto startles at the sound, a hand pressed over her beating heart.
"Fugaku, you-"
Their voices echo in Miyu's head, angry and fearful. She turns just as Sasuke meets her eyes, shivering.
"Okaa-san and otou-san..." he whispers, fear flickering in his face. "Miyu-nee-san, what-"
Miyu uses a free hand to point to the door, nudging her brother in that direction. Sasuke tactfully takes his plate with him as he leaves the room.
Her attention drifts back onto her other brother as she listens. Itachi doesn't seem to be focused on eating himself, and she can see the chopsticks lying back on the table, his hands in his lap as he bows his head.
They're shaking.
"But just try-!"
This time, both Miyu and Itachi look up at their mother's outburst.
Clink.
Fugaku looks up to see Miyu spooning rice onto her plate, head down. "Mikoto," he orders. "We'll discuss thislater."
Miyu sees her mother's pursed lips, and Itachi's monotone, repetitive clench of his teeth. There's something...there. Something...different.
Oh?
"Itachi," Fugaku says, ignoring Miyu completely, again. "You must attend tonight's clan meeting. Be ready by eight."
There's no room for discussion, and Itachi seems to see that.
"Yes, otou-sama."
Miyu makes sure to finish her food just before Itachi does, so she can double back and catch him as he goes into his room. He notices her, of course.
"What is it?" Itachi opens the door slightly, just enough space so that only he can step inside.
She looks at him, for a second.
"You need something from me," Itachi replies impatiently. "Tell me what it is andleave."
Slowly, Miyu shakes her head. Her hand grazes on his shoulder from where she once touched him, then soon retreats.
"Miyu."
A piece of paper appears between her fingers, so quickly that it could have been sleight of hand. Blink once and you'd miss it.
Itachi seems too used to it to be amazed.
It's not a common jutsu, but it's not as if it's an achievement either. Just something that Miyu found while perusing for chakra scrolls.
It's...Miyu searches for the words. They scrawl across the paper.Important.
"Carry on."
She can see that she's barely holding onto the string of his interest.
The clan meetings. I know-
Her fingers don't get to the next word uninterrupted. It was just a bluff, only to see if he'd reveal anything useful, but his reaction already shows what she wants to see.
Their clan is already planning the coup, then.
Itachi grabs it from her, and suddenly it's ablaze, sparks spitting out of his hand as the paper crumples to black ashes which scatter on the floor underneath his scathing eyes.
"Miyu,"he hisses, and somehow she realises just what Shisui means by the fun in it all. "Never,neverdo that again. Don't even write it. Don't eventhinkabout it."
She can see the cogs whirring in his mind, his eyes scanning her face with fear as he pinpoints the root cause of it all. Miyu turns away, as if to leave.
Itachi holds the cloth of her obi with two fingers, pinning her to the same spot. She could twist out of the way, and yet-
Miyu isn't supposed to be able to.
"Wait-" he says, a little less breathless now that his anger has reduced. "What else...what else do you know?"
She looks at him, for a moment.
Miyu shakes her head.
A second passes. Itachi's breathing relaxes, now much more steady.
She can see the exact moment where his eyes recede from sharingan, his suspicion fading away just like the red turns to black. Itachi still stares at her, searching.
She smiles up at him.
It's a small gesture, so insignificant yet so powerful at the same time. Miyu realises, now, that Itachi has never seen her smile.
Her brother startles, stepping back and almost knocking into the door. He catches himself, fingernails digging onto the door, quite betraying his alarmed look.
No, he's not quite so perfect now.
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She slips on an ANBU mask just as quickly as she fades away into the shadows.
It's no secret that Miyu could be powerful if she wished. Itachi stares at her, brows closer together, pulling a more sombre Shisui behind him. They don't say a word, until they do, and that's when everything turns to dust.
"Miyu," Shisui breathes, horrified yet somewhat awed at the same time. "You're-I was on a mission with you just last week. How could they-"
He cuts himself off just in time, just enough so that he's reassured she's stlll completely clueless. Miyu narrows her eyes, purposefully, because they would be all too sceptical if she didn't show some suspicion.
"Miyu-san," Itachi says, the words strange-sounding with the honorific. "Do you know who recommended you?"
Ah.
The question.
Someone so young as Miyu, as young as Itachi, would never have gotten in from their own free will. They would have been incited, enclosed into the underworld of darkness.
And she does know. It's difficult not to, really.
A small smile plays across Miyu's lips. She shakes her head, again, just like all the other times, then turns away.
Behind her, Shisui raises an eyebrow.
Over the next few days, Miyu slips back into this cycle of distortion, just like everyone else seems to do. It's too much. Even Mikoto notices, dragging everyone to eat together at least a few times a week under her watchful eye.
Her missions show in her eyes, cold and detached. Itachi looks at her with mild disgust, though obliges in raking through Miyu's hair as she pulls him close for the first time in ages.
He tugs away, then. "Go change," Itachi says, nose wrinkling as he looks down at her position on the floor. "It's unbecoming."
Really, Miyu's grateful that she didn't get another reprimand. Her father's eyebrows knit together in faint irritation as she limps back down to dinner, the lack of a grey mask weighing heavily in her pocket.
She must still smell of blood. Even after she's soaked her hair in cold water, rubbed at the roots, over and over and over again.
Mikoto tries to make small conversation at the table, but she gets nowhere.
"How is it going, Itachi-kun?" she asks, heaping a spoonful of rice onto his plate in spite of his feeble protests. "Miyu-chan is the same, I swear. Both of you haven't been eating anything, and you know how bad that is for your health."
"I manage, okaa-san."
Mikoto's eyebrows furrow in indignation. "With what? Ration bars?" She sounds appalled.
Luckily, he's spared an answer. Mikoto turns on her husband, eyes blazing.
"And you-!"
She could enjoy this, really.
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.
Shisui pulls her back to talk after her training, one day.
"Hey," he says, and if she didn't know better she'd think he's nervous. "uh, Miyu-san, I know we weren't really, you know, close or anything, but-"
She stills.
Miyu frowns, pausing to look right at his face. He seems slightly off track, just like Itachi was.
"-I just wanted to make sure everything's okay." Shisui scratches the back of his head, as if he's waiting for a response. "I just don't want to have any bad blood between us, you know?"
Miyu blinks.
Oh.Oh.
It must be soon, then. Why else would he come here now, just to smooth all the corners out? Just to make sure everything's all right?
Miyu lets a weak smile appear on her face, and he somewhat seems appeased, because he too gives her a grin in return.
"Yeah," Shisui smiles, his eyes a little less tired now, though the dark circles no less prominent. "Great."
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The apple tree withers away as the next winter leaves, just as Miyu's branches still stay bare. She perches up on it, watching for the faint whispers on the breeze, the talk of the prodigy and the spare.
She can still hear the rush of the river.
Night seems to merge into day, and Miyu's convinced that she's already half delirious, scrabbling for the branch as she tries not to fall out with exhaustion. Her eyes listlessly wander, but the echoes of children's laughter are long gone.
There's a faint breeze.
And then Miyu sits up, alert.
Someone's there. A nightingale's voice calls her to attention, just as she looks back down.
"Uchiha Miyu," says Shimura Danzo, a horrifying smile on his face. "I've been meaning to talk to you for quite some time."
