Chapter 2: Tick Tock
Feb 2, 1 AK (After Kyuubi)
I gazed flatly at the training log buried in our backyard. The wood was faded, brown, and scarred. My fingers absently traced the outline of the pouch hanging from my shorts.
The early spring wind whistled around the edges of the building. It sent a tiny chill up my spine, rustling the feeble green shoots pushing up amongst the dead patches of our poorly tended lawn.
It was time.
Hold the kunai parallel to the palm.
Bring hand back to opposite shoulder.
Flick arm forward.
Use wrist to aim in a smooth arc.
Release when the tip points at the target.
Repeat until it is too dark to see.
Mother was reluctant to instruct me in the ninja arts so young. She wanted me to have a childhood.
She didn't understand. There was no time to be content. There was only time to survive.
Her few tips on form became the bible of my new existence. Practice consumed every waking moment not devoted to eating or sleeping. I had little natural aptitude for the ninja arts, so I made up for it with brute force repetition.
Breathe in.
Curl fist, thumb out.
Hold fist slightly above waist height.
Push out, twisting arm until palm is parallel to the ground.
Extend the punch through the target.
Finish breathing out.
Retract fist one while mirroring with fist two.
Repeat until bleeding.
I was on a time limit. A hard, unforgiving limit.
Seven years.
If I was not strong, if I was not competent, if I could not prove my value... I would die with the rest of my clan.
I was just two years younger than Itachi. I was already doomed.
Breathe deep.
Shoulders back.
Eyes on the road, not the feet.
Maintain even stride.
Small sips of water.
Repeat until unconscious.
Tick tock, goes the clock.
Now we all must die.
x-X-x
My father would certainly perish.
Uchiha Genryusai. He was very proper. A model Uchiha. Not a bad man, really, though I rarely saw him enough to form a solid opinion.
He was a Tokubetsu Jōnin, but not an exceptional one. He only held the rank because of his proficiency with Genjutsu, and he only possessed that because of the Sharingan. Mediocre chakra reserves. No notable traits besides his eyes.
He was a statistic waiting to happen.
My mother, however, was my rock.
Uchiha Yuki had retired at the rank of Chunin to breed the next generation, as is proper for Uchiha ladies who have awakened their eyes. She was my lifeline during these earliest years.
"No, Hiroki, like this," she said, her voice soft. "Keep your elbow in tight while you punch. If you push out too much you lose power. Okay?"
"Yes, mother. Like this?"
Thud.
My knuckles slammed heavily into the wood. I ignored the sting, looking back to her for correction, my eyes wide and observant, searching for approval in the shifting folds of her lavender kimono.
"Good. Like that," she nodded. "But don't push yourself too hard. I don't want you coming home with bloody hands again."
I smiled faintly at her. She returned the gesture. The tilt of her head allowed her hair to cast long shadows over her face, giving her alabaster skin a somber cast.
We both knew it was vain to hope I would stop before injury.
x-X-x
The one downside to spending so much time at home was the reputation I built among the other Uchiha children.
Momma's boy. Training freak. Weirdo.
Fortunately, their attempts at interaction were minimal.
"Hey, you wanna play ninja with us?"
The boy in dark blue clothes was met with a blank, black stare. I sat beneath a tree in one of the compound's smaller parks, my eyes accustomed to the undistracting pink of my own hands.
It was a pleasant spot to train my chakra—provided I wasn't being bothered by toddlers.
His companion tugged on his sleeve, pulling him away.
"Not him. Hiroki's a weirdo. Let's ask Satsuki."
The trio of raven-haired children ran past me. I continued to sit in the lotus position, feeling out my chakra system.
I didn't have any friends inside my clan. To be honest, I didn't have any outside it, either.
Why bother getting chummy with pre-corpses?
The only member of my extended family that deserved—or received—any of my respect was my mother.
x-X-x
"Where did you want the folded clothes?"
She glanced up from the dishes in the sink with a little surprise, pushing back a stray lock of hair with the back of a soapy hand.
"Oh! Did you empty the dryer? Sweetie, you didn't have to do that, I can take care of it."
I blinked up at her over the stack of neatly folded clothes. The basket was stuffed with clean shirts in the clan's favored blue and black, a pile almost taller than I was.
"I don't mind. I'm too tired to practice today, so I thought I could help you."
Her smile sent a thrill of warm pleasure through me, even tinged as it was with a silent chastisement for my overwork.
"You can put it at the foot of my futon, okay? Thank you, Hiroki."
I tried in all things to be respectful of her wishes. I couldn't be everything she wanted—that would mean less time to train—but aside from that, I was a model child. Quiet. Polite. Helpful.
Whenever I was too sore to train, I spent time with her. Cooking, reading stories... anything to brighten her day.
Much as I loathed the thought, I knew I could not save her.
She was loyal to her husband. She was loyal to the clan.
And so, she would die.
I clung to her while I could. I tried to ensure her experience of motherhood was a good one. She would be gone all too soon.
x-X-x
It was surreal.
Seeing all these people and knowing that soon, they would be nothing but dust and memory.
The Uchiha cremated their dead. It became hard for me not to smell smoke when I looked at the black-haired figures passing me on the street. The taste of ash was ever-present on my tongue on the rare occasions I spoke to them.
I could never eat more than a few bites in the presence of my extended family without throwing up.
It happened often enough that they took me to the doctor. Of course, he found nothing wrong.
How could I tell them?
How could I explain that I couldn't look at black hair, black eyes, and pale skin without the food turning into charred flesh in my mouth?
Combined with my obsessive training, my antisocial behavior was noted as "worrisome, but not counterproductive" by the elders. The Uchiha prized strength above everything.
In this way, at least, I was similar to my new family. Strength was what I sought above all else.
Every thudding strike against the training post.
Every pounding footstep on the jogging path.
It was a beat of the mantra in my head and heart. Every scrape and bloody bandage was proof of my commitment to survival.
I must be strong.
If I am not strong, I will die.
Strength opens doors.
These doors will let me escape.
No pit is too deep to sink to.
No mountain is too high to climb.
Anything that I can do, I must do.
Strength is the reward for my effort.
With strength, I can be free from fear.
I must be strong.
...
I was so afraid.
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