She was aware of silence behind her. The sound of chopsticks had stilled, not that it had been very fierce to begin with. A small melancholy aura tripped alarms in her maternal senses from the long low dining table behind her. She frowned as she scrubbed out the ceramic interior of the bowl. Was her child sick? Upset? Had something happened? Uneasiness spreading through her, she waited patiently for him to tell her on his own.
A bowl returned to the low eating table with a thump. "Kaa-san…" a small voice offered.
The tap was turned off in an instant. "Huh?" She turned, her concerned eyes scrutinising the room's sole remaining occupant.
Little Sasuke was staring at his lunch with a lacklustre expression. It didn't look like he had touched a bite. His shoulders hung limp at his sides, his face was almost hidden by the high wide-set collar of his dark turtleneck sweater. He seemed a tiny figure, a small cloud of misery, lost in the towering kitchen. The pale green retro fridge loomed behind him; the tall glass fronted unit with the bowls rose up in front; even the unit with the TV and Mikoto's favourite toaster seemed to crowd out the young boy seated on the green-coloured floor mats. (1)
"What does Tou-san (2) really think of me and Nii-san (3)?"
The question surprised her, making her exhale loudly as her mind raced to process what he meant. "What's this all of a sudden?"
For a moment, Sasuke didn't answer. His chopsticks hung limply from his fingers and his young body cowed in unusual stillness. "A while ago, Tou-san said 'as expected of my child' to me," he explained, his eyes still downcast even as his mother dried her hands on her apron and came closer to listen, "He only used to say that to Nii-san, so I was really happy."
"Oh," Mikoto smiled encouragingly, "Isn't that good?"
"But lately," Sasuke continued, his tone unchanged, "Tou-san and Nii-san haven't been getting along."
They hit the heart of the matter and, in spite of herself, Mikoto gasped in quiet disappointment. Her head lifted, frowning, as she studied her youngest son in concern. Despite her best efforts it seemed he had picked up on the family squabbles from which he was still so innocent. Squabbles she had hoped to shield him from for as long as she could.
"And I thought…" the child went on, his body still unmoving, "Am I just a replacement for my brother?" The silence etched itself uncomfortably into the room, as Sasuke's statement hung in the air between them.
Mikoto's sigh was louder this time as she stilled herself to speak. "Your Nii-san is your Nii-san and you are you," she pronounced, her tone firm and encouraging, "Your Tou-san is always worried about both of you." She smiled tenderly at him, emphasising her point.
Sasuke snapped. He spun around, glaring at his mother. Suddenly the emotion he had been missing earlier bubbled up passed the surface, anger and hurt flashing in his dark sensitive eyes. "In that case, why is it always others?" he demanded, his tone irate as he dared her to disagree.
"Uh-uh," she shook her head softly, smiling reassuringly at him as she explained the truth he couldn't quite see, "No, that's not it. As the representative of the Uchiha, your father has to protect the whole clan."
The rage had died down to sulky confusion. "What do you mean?" Sasuke hesitated, his bright face locked onto his mother's with reluctant hope.
"It's just that's Itachi's bigger than you and your senpai in the clan, which means your father's responsibility will fall to him," she smiled affectionately, even as her little boy blinked in uncertainty, still frowning up at her, "Your father has to oversee that task, so that's probably why he's always focused on Itachi."
Sasuke looked away, frowning as he stared at his food. Mikoto crept closer to the table, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "Between the two of us," she began, grinning as she caught her son's attention, "When he's with me, your Tou-san only talks about you." Still beaming affectionately, she pointed at herself as if to indicate that these were her private communiqués with her children's father. Sasuke's eyes widened. She laughed, standing up again. "That's why he acts awkwardly and always seems so angry."
Her son smiled, glancing down in embarrassment at his earlier outburst. He felt relieved, happy, a little silly at his mother's confidence…
Seemingly innocuous, the front door opened and closed further inside the house. Mikoto glanced up in surprise at the sound of her husband home early. Sasuke too seemed to recognise the sound of the heavy footsteps in the hallway, as his father discarded his boots and pulled on his sandals. The boy sat bolt upright in excitement, making Mikoto smile again, as the heavy thoughtful tread moved to the decking outside, closer to the kitchen.
Before either of them could acknowledge it, however, the weighty movements were interrupted by the awkward sound of a sliding door being unevenly wrenched along its track. A pattering of much smaller feet chased the larger ones over the decking, followed by a loud thump as that little someone fell over.
Uchiha Fugaku's laugh bellowed through the house, the deep throaty sound rumbling with the unusual mirth. "Ah, Miyu! Miyu! Miyu-chan!" came a deep affectionate chortle, almost a guffaw, "How is my little princess?"
The sound of that laugh made Sasuke go pale. He threw his chopsticks down on the table, disappointment coursing through him. "It's not true," he insisted, angrily rising to his feet, "None of it. It's always Nii-san, Nii-san or Miyu, Miyu. Miyu's the only one he spoils like baby. If he only prefers Nii-san because he's older, why is it that even pathetic Miyu can get him to look at her without trying? Am I just not good enough? Is that it?" His fists clenched and his torso shook as he scowled at his own bare feet, body shaking with betrayal.
"Sasuke…" Mikoto stretched out a hand, but before she could reach him, her child barged passed her, his arms covering his face as he charged out the back door. "Sasuke!" She raced after him, bracing herself on the frame as her youngest son disappeared around the back of the house.
"Ah, what's going on in here?" a familiar gruff voice demanded in surprise.
Mikoto turned to see her husband staring at her. A stern jaw with deep frown lines, heavy set eyes with their low straight eyebrows, Fugaku's features were nevertheless raised in surprise. His broad square shoulders hung stern and straight over his muscular torso, but there was a certain tension in his posture at the sight of his wife's concerned face, as if he was ready to spring into action at any moment. The Konoha police uniform seemed unusually ruffled, his blue ninja suit wrinkled and the collar of his flack slightly askance. That though was the fault of the large dead weight hanging by its thin little arms around his neck.
Although she was only two years younger than Sasuke, the baby of the Uchiha clan blinked silently up at her mother, stroppy dark hair hanging over her large eyes. Said hair was cropped short on the six year old (4), but it either stuck up in all sorts of odd directions or managed to hang low in over her small rounded face. A pacifier, for which she was much too old, bobbed up and down in her mouth as she clung limply against her father's side, the skirt of her dark blue dress fanning over his muscular arm, the Uchiha clan symbol displayed all over her back. Her skinny bare legs clamped around his toned waist, anchoring itself against the pockets of his jounin-green flak jacket. She rubbed her cheek against her father's shoulder, her expression bland and docile like the over-grown infant she was. Plump cherubim lips pushed the pacifier up and down in a vacant pout.
She looked like a living human doll, designed to be cute and cuddly, but not a substitute for the real thing. In six years Mikoto had yet to hear her daughter utter more than a few syllables. Miyu just watched people with those huge unfathomable black eyes and followed her father and brothers around like a small puppy. She was indefensibly cute and her simple ways won affection out of even the most repressed of strangers. Mikoto loved her, Fugaku adored her – and yet he probably had more actual respect for his sons. He certainly demanded far more from both of them than he ever did from the silent insubstantial voiceless little girl.
The woman gave them both an affectionate smile, slightly sadly, before turning back to the view behind the house. "I think Sasuke's having a bit of a bad day," she sighed, her eyes watching the spot where her son had disappeared.