12Scrim
Scrim (definition): a clothe that is particularly see-through. There are many cloths that when worn as blindfolds do not actually blind. Some silks, for instance. If one has a clothe that is darker on one side (by coloration or by being in shadow), it can act like a one-way mirror, allowing one to see through but not to be seen back.
A pair of ninja entered the inn, one very tall, hulking and blue, the other like the ravens that followed him, and his life depended on giving no reaction.
They had come to kill him.
Even out far from Konoha in the middle of nowhere town, it was hard not to hear about the massacre. A blow like that could signal weakness that could lead to a new war. Everyone was on edge.
Scrim had very different, more immediate reasons to be on edge.
There had been a tiny, scattered number of Uchiha outside of the village at the time; it was basically impossible for such a large clan to have everyone in one place when some missions could demand one take years abroad, or that one scrub every sign of their existence from every record so that there would be nothing to trace back to and to avoid anyone who might recognize them, including their own families.
Key words: There had been.
Methodically, one by one, they'd been eliminated. This news was much more difficult to get one's hands on, but Scrim's talents had never been in front-line fighting but in infiltration, assassination and information gathering. He was, in other words, a traditional ninja of the like you didn't see quite as often as you'd expect any more, even though the demand for such things hadn't gone down. His real name wasn't even Scrim, and that was the problem.
He had originally been a Uchiha.
Personal name, unimportant.
He hadn't used it in years, and it wasn't why he was a target.
"Excuse me, we're looking for someone," a deep, gravel-like voice sounded behind him, and a hand reached out. Now he gave a startled response, turning. "He looks like- but, oh. You can't see, can you?"
Scrim smiled, his bleached and dyed brown hair with a few grey strands (blonde would have shown its falsehood too easily when the roots came in dark) fell messily over his blindfold as he answered, "No, but that does not mean I can't help. As someone who tends a bar, I hear talk from time to time. Are you looking for a relative of yours? Most of the locals here are pretty insular, and we don't get a huge number of people coming in." Most of those who did, were his contacts or bored traders. Or both.
"You could say I'm looking for a relative of my friend, ch'yeah," the big hulking monstrosity said casually. "Dark hair, black eyes, might have had a fondness for wearing blue. Probably quite stoic. May have been carrying weapons."
"Ah, well, depending on whether you parted on good terms or not, you may be worried to know they had a run-in with nuke-nin with fire jutsu and never came back. If you'd like, the bodies of the battle are just south of here in an unmarked grave. You can check for yourself. The nuke-nin is probably long gone, but if you encounter him the town would be mighty thankful to have that arsonist put in the dirt." He spat at the floor for good measure.
"We'll do that," said a second voice, the voice more human sounding yet somehow more chilling for how cold and emotionless it was. Then, without warning, the owner reached for his blindfold and pulled it off.
"Hey!" Scrim objected, floundering and reaching at empty air, his milky white eyes staring out at nothing.
"...my apologies. I just had to make sure." Uchiha Itachi handed the blindfold back to him.
There was something to be said for traditional methods of disguise mixed with modern conveniences. Scrim had never been so glad he'd been paranoid enough to buy an otherwise completely useless pair of contacts that heavily obscured his vision. He didn't use them most of the time, usually just for meeting people or when he might be expected to take the blinds off, but after the news of the murders he'd taken to wearing them near-constantly.
The would-be-murderer would find to the south several heavily charred bodies, one of them with black hair that roughly fit Scrim's physical description, and, to sell the point even more gruesomely, with a pair of eyes that had been gouged out, as if to steal or to destroy before someone else could.
Were Scrim a more aggressive, hotheaded ninja, he might immediately attack Itachi now.
But he was not, and never had been, a brawler. His revenge, if he took it, would be far more methodical and careful than some reckless assault that would simply get him killed. On some level, he wasn't even sure if he wanted revenge, although he was definitely not feeling cheerful. Scrim was out here in bumble-hick-town, chasing bounties and gathering info, because he wasn't exactly the most loyal Uchiha on the planet. He was only barely a Uchiha at all, his grandmother had married out of the clan, his parents hadn't even carried the clan name, and it had been a fluke of genetics that he'd developed the eyes at all. When that had happened, he'd already been a teenager and less than enthused when the Uchiha clan demanded he be swept in to their compound and take on their name. His feelings toward the entire clan had been mixed at best. They only cared about him because of his eyes.
But that didn't mean he'd wanted them all dead. That reminded him. Rumor had it there had been another survivor, a child.
Perhaps it was time to head back home. Discreetly, of course. Shouting to the world another Uchiha was alive was just asking for trouble, and would undo all the effort he'd just put into faking his own death.
.
.
Sneaking back into home took some thought, as everyone was extremely on edge and security was high after the massacre. No one wanted the last Uchiha loyal to Konoha (Scrim had to grudgingly admit that he was not exactly, after disobeying orders and staying away from home too long after the death of a team-mate, on the list) to be kidnapped, and with that Uchiha being only a child it had to be extremely tempting to try. Even if the child failed to be sculpted into a new weapon for the thief, even males could be force-bred and used as breeding stock, it simply took more effort. No one wanted the potentially equally long-term-disastrous but less flashy problem of someone getting close to the Uchiha heir and slowly molding them to their liking within the village, either.
Unfortunately, getting close to the Uchiha heir was exactly what Scrim had planned.
Scrim might not be the greatest guy, but, he wasn't about to leave a child related to him (even if only distantly) completely alone.
His first attempt to get in, by applying as a mere civilian for permission to live in Konoha, was rejected. "Sorry, we aren't accepting at this time except for the most in-demand specialties like high-grade weapon smithing. Try again in a year if you are still interested."
One of his favorite techniques was henge, and he was extremely good at it, even enjoying animal forms (sometimes he wished he was a nin-animal instead of a human, their lives seemed simpler), but he had limited use of it around Konoha due to all the Sharingans and Byakugans running around rendering it almost useless. So that was out, although the sudden dearth of Sharingan users made it somewhat more feasible than before it was still too risky. For similar reasons, smuggling himself inside in someone else's caravan or goods was also out.
That left waiting for the right moment in guard movements and scaling over the wall, or through another entrance. With some disgust, he tried the sewers. With even more disgust, he found it fairly poorly guarded. The one confused ninja he encountered there had been a child, and they did not question the ANBU mask he wore when he passed them by with a mere nod as if he was meant to be there. Sometimes, the most effective way to sneak in is to act boldly like you've always belonged there all along.
The clan compound he had no choice but to enter that way, because it was completely surrounded.
The paranoia of Leaf shinobi for once backfired, because not all ANBU knew each other and this meant they could not immediately identify him as an imposter or, more precisely, as a Missing-nin who happened to have an ANBU mask. He gave a brief salute in greeting, correctly used Leaf handsigns to agree to take over someone's shift for the night, and sat himself right next to another ANBU member to watch over Sasuke. Other ninja below were still doing systematic clean-up of the place, house by house, as it had been a giant blood-bath and a mess like that wasn't something you cleaned up instantly, but also because there was no telling what secrets might just be laying around for anyone to snoop into that would be inconvenient to have just lying there supervised only by an often-absent child.
It wasn't quite what he'd had in mind when he'd decided he needed to look after- what was his name? Sasuke? But with tensions so high it would do for the night. When things cooled slightly, and when he had a guarantee that a Hyuuga wasn't one of the ones watching (they would be fools to remove all watchers entirely any time soon, but they couldn't keep a whole team staffed on the boy forever; every ninja staffed not working for a client was a monetary loss), he'd sneak in and introduce himself with the windows safely closed.
Or at least, that was the plan. The sheer grief on the boy's face changed his mind. There is one place, and one place only, where the attention on him is lessened, but only because there are so many others to eye, and even ANBU on protection detail will generally not follow into a crowded building when there are already plenty of ninja ready and willing to protect there, for an ANBU's first job is not too be seen, after all. They could guard just as well at all the exits to the building in question.
The Academy.
It was not a desirable place for any infiltration specialist. There were countless eyes everywhere, and the information to be gathered there was rather low-value. Getting out with a child would immediately garner attention. But, he did not intend to kidnap a child, and he wasn't there for information, and there were many other bodies in the crowd to distract the eye. All he needed was a moment alone with the boy. And then, perhaps, that would be it. After all, Sasuke had never met him before. Perhaps he would want nothing to do with him, and in that case, he'd leave immediately, his guilty conscience assuaged and his last tie to the village severed after the death of both his team-mates and his family.
It is also one of the few places where one can get away with wearing a henge without attracting attention even if the henge is noticed. If one is careful about it, that is.
Sometimes, the best way to be unnoticed is to attract notice.
"Hey guys!" Scrim walks up to a crowd of civilian children, beneath the notice of most ninja, wearing the most nondescript child's face possible, except for the addition of purple hair. Civilian children drop in and drop out quickly after all the time, an unfortunate reality that most don't speak about. "What color hair should I have? I'm practicing my transformation jutsu!"
"Rainbow!"
"Blue!"
"Brown!"
"Brown?! Who'd the heck would choose brown?"
"My mama's hair is brown and she's beautiful!"
One conversation slash argument later, which Scrim was careful not to let get too full-blown while he was there lest it attract attention from the teachers, and he had his alibi down flat in the most innocuous way possible. And that was really all for the benefit of any potential Hyuuga watchers he had missed or any extra paranoid ANBU who felt twitchy about an unrecognized face. Inside the school, he was for the most part home-free, except for Hyuuga students, many of whom wouldn't even know how to use their eyes all that well yet if at all and wouldn't have much reason to activate it in his direction. Even then, with their inexperience they might not even really notice anything. So what if his chakra coils were unusually developed and large for his body? With the Kyuubi carrier in the school, there were sure to be larger. Lots of chakra by itself didn't necessarily mean anything. He was fairly sure it would take careful examination to determine something was amiss, though he was not an expert on Hyuuga dojutsu (he had been taught to focus on village enemies, not how to take down their own people) and he didn't intend to attract that much attention.
There the target- sorry, old habits, he mentally corrected - boy was, avoided for the most part by the other children who didn't know how to deal with the grief and misery he exuded. The features were very classically Uchiha. Most of the clans looked like clones of each other, he swore sometimes.
Now, how to get close?
He waited until everyone was moving through the halls again, the crowds meaning a brush against a stranger inevitable and unassuming. Then he layered a genjutsu over the children briefly, who noticed nothing amiss and put up no struggle whatsoever, created a shadow clone henged like Sasuke Uchiha, and then moved into a large empty closet.
"What-" Sasuke cried out, frightened but trying not to show it, putting on a grumpy, offended exterior like a potential foreign ninja trying to grab him was someone who needed to apologize immediately for the indignity or face his terrifying wrath, rather than the reality that he was a small child and could do basically nothing if Scrim was so minded.
Thankfully for him, Scrim wasn't. He dropped the henge and showed the boy his eyes.
"How?" Sasuke went slack in shock, no longer struggling, he simply stared in disbelief. "Are you for real? I watched them all die." The tone is accusing. If you're real, where were you?
"Call me Scrim," he said a little gruffly, feeling weirdly naked without his blindfold on. "I had a mission that took me out of the village for a few years and I may have, ah, forgotten to call in. Most people think I'm dead, and I would prefer to keep it that way, but I didn't want to leave you thinking you were completely alone."
"So you survived by running away and hiding," Sasuke said with disdain. "Like a coward."
"Like a real ninja," Scrim corrected. "You think being a ninja is about flashy techniques and showing off your power, don't you?" The shock in his fellow Uchiha's eyes gave it away, not that children were particularly hard to read, even if Uchiha children were more flat-faced and monotone on average than others. "A real ninja is about making the circumstances work in your favor, hiding in the shadows until the time is right, fighting on ground that favors you and not your opponent."
The child looks... worn, beyond his years. "It doesn't matter. I must gain enough power to face Itachi. That is why I was allowed to live. I am an avenger."
So melodramatic. And so horribly wrong.
"And you're going to let the unstable murderer of your entire clan give you advice?" Scrim gave a laugh. "Are you really going to let him dictate your life for you?"
Sasuke looked angry, but then, he'd looked angry almost the entire time, from the moment he'd gotten over his initial shock. His hands balled into fists, unsure how to respond.
"You want revenge, I get that." Scrim appreciated revenge as much as anyone. "I have experience with that, so I can't fault you for it. It's your methods that I disagree with." That got Sasuke to look at him again, more assessing. Good, that meant he'd think about it. "When my team-mates died, I was ordered home because I stood no chance against their killers in a straight up fight. Instead, I chased after their murderers for over a year, and plotted out their deaths for almost as long, waiting for the perfect opportunity." He gave an unfriendly smile. "Everyone has moments of weakness. They watched for poison, but they didn't watch for disease. Their own bowels giving out on them, I cut their throats on the toilet."
Sasuke's eyes are wide at the colorful imagery that inspires, and it belatedly occurs to him that maybe he shouldn't be saying all of this to a small child. But then, this child has seen worse, had they not?
"Strength and power and fighting one on one are for samurai who fight like noblemen. We're ninja," Scrim said bluntly. "That means taking every advantage you can get. Allies are force multipliers. Information is another." He straightens. "That said, I'm not here to force my company on you. If you don't want me or my advice, I'll leave and it will be like I never existed. As a missing-nin, being here is risky enough as it is, but at least I don't have the weight of actually betraying the village on my shoulders..." Scrim shrugs off an imaginary weight. "So the chances of me being hauled off to T&I long-term are low even if I'm caught." Low, but not non-existent. The timing could make it better or worse. Worse, as one might get suspicious why now when he didn't seem to care about his clan before, or certain elements might desire to have a corrupting influence like himself away from the heir. Better, because having your clan massacred except for a single child and a traitor was a pretty good excuse to come back home.
"If you're caught? You aren't planning to come back entirely?" Sasuke said, eyes full of worry.
Scrim shifted, feeling guilty. He had only just appeared here, but Sasuke already looked worried he was going to be abandoned again.
To be honest, he was kind of suspicious about the entire affair. He hadn't known Itachi well, but he'd seemed like a loving older brother. And he'd known the clan had been discontent. It wasn't hard to notice the grumblings about being blamed for the Kyuubi. The rift had not been one-sided. What if who-ever was responsible for the Kyuubi had been motivated to outcast the Uchiha clan - a long shot admittedly - and had not been satisfied with the way things were going and decided to take things hands on? Except that didn't explain how Itachi had gotten into it or why he would agree.
"If you don't want me to leave, I won't, except to pay bills and investigate things. But I think it would be best if I didn't reveal my existence immediately. Call it paranoia if you like, but-"
"No, I get it," Sasuke said. "You can't win a straight up fight with Itachi, but he can't prepare to fight against you or decide to kill you if he doesn't even know you exist." Sasuke seems grudgingly approving, like he isn't quite sure if he likes this or not, but at least he doesn't consider it stupid. "But are we going to get him?" Almost as soon as he says the 'we', he seems to want to take it back. "I mean, are you going to teach me something actually useful for getting revenge on him?"
"If that's what you want," Scrim promised, before digging into his backpack (so useful, why didn't more people wear them? Ah, right, storage seals, because most ninja didn't care to impersonate civilians most of the time) and pulling out a summoning scroll. He was about to shift the conversation, but something occurs to him.
Thinking for a moment, he smirked. "Actually, I already have a plan, one that he'll never see coming. But first, we need to discuss how we're going to stay in contact and meet up long term, and second, you need some of those force multipliers I talked about."
Sasuke, recognizing what he was holding, reached out and took the scroll gingerly. "And a summoning contract will help with both of those?" he guessed.
"Bingo, but, not necessarily in the way you are thinking. I'm about to show you my true talent. With this, you can smuggle me straight in to your own house with no one being the wiser."
With that, he henges himself into a cat, leaving his backpack behind before leaping into it. His chakra would look a bit strange being so large for his body, but as a nin-cat nobody would think twice about it.
"You can henge yourself into an animal?" Sasuke said with surprise.
"Yes," he responded, stretching as he really hadn't shaped himself like this in awhile. "You can even henge yourself into inanimate objects, but that's insanely difficult to do for any period of time." Part of the difficulty being that humans were built to breathe. "Most people don't bother with it or don't even realize you can do it, and that's exactly why I find it so useful. If you do the same thing everyone else does, that just makes you predictable. Now, it will be a little strange if you walk out of school with a new cat, so I need you to smuggle me in that backpack to your home. Nobody will blink twice at the notion you found a summoning contract at the compound. If anyone asks about the backpack, you can say another student gave it to you. Can you do this?"
Sasuke nods, determined not to screw up the first time anyone trusted him with a serious mission. It was an easy one, but still. The backpack was a little heavy for a small child, after all.
But Sasuke, over-shadowed as he might be by his older brother, is still no ordinary child, but one who already manipulates chakra. He picks it up with ease, and heads home, his expression betraying nothing except raw determination and sheer grief.
The same expression he has worn every day since coming back from the massacre.
.
.
Author's note: This might just be a one or two-shot, but if it attracts attention I'll give it at least one more update. I have too many fics already that I need to finish, heh.
This was actually originally going to be an Itachi-kidnaps-Sasuke-and-raises-him fic, but I didn't have enough muse for that, so instead, if it continues, it's going to be more like a... Sasuke-kidnaps-Itachi plot, if people want it. Which is exactly backwards from the original muse, but whatever.
I also had half a notion about a sad, 'failed romance' subplot, based around the notion that any village worth their salt is probably going to send a kunoichi to try to seduce an adult valuable bloodline user, and that could easily end in tragedy, but I don't know if anyone would really want to read that. Scrim is, for reference, bisexual and a few years older than Itachi, even if at heart he likes to think of himself as a scruffy old man most ninja just don't live that long. I tentatively had their real name be Satoshi, which I always kind of imagined as being one of the most common and droll Uchiha-names. "Satoshi is alive!" "...which Satoshi? There were, like, a dozen." Not every Uchiha could be uber-special and memorable like the clan heirs.
I am open to suggestions for what people want to see, particularly for shipping.
