The next day, Takuma left the ANBU headquarters in the early evening. He took one of the secret guarded exits and bounded right into the city, leaping from roof to roof in a mix of parkour and occasional use of the Body Flicker Jutsu to go from the Hokage Mountain at the innermost edge of the Hidden Leaf Village to the Uchiha Compound located on the periphery of the old city within the walls.
Visiting the Uchiha residence on personal business was bad optics considering his job, but an advantage that most people didn’t think about was that the ability to split out multiple clones made one very difficult to track.
“You’re here and just on time.” Mikoto opened the door and gave him a welcoming hug. “They just delivered the castella cakes, freshly baked.”
“I do love honey.” Takuma returned the hug. “Actually, I got my hands on some excellent honey recently. Remind me to send you a jar.”
There was no awkwardness as he walked beside Mikoto. He had been to the house numerous times over the years, but simultaneously, he only knew a couple of rooms, the kitchen, and the backyard, as he never had a reason to go anywhere else.
“Are you sleeping properly?”
“I need to get a proper eight, or I’d be catatonic,” Takuma sighed. Somehow, he had gone a full turn, going from sacrificing sleep to prioritising sleep over most things. Physical training and the mental strain from using clones made it so that he had to take care of himself. “How about you? How did the annual check-up go?”
“I beat my test scores from last year,” Mikoto said proudly.
“Make sense. You don’t look a day above twenty-five. You’re practically ageing backwards.”
“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest?” She bumped him in the shoulder and then ruffled his hair.
“Like honey.”
“Then get me a jar of you as well, dear.”
“Unfortunately, I’m lightning. Can’t bottle me,” Takuma said, being a little bit cheeky.
She left him in the living room. He looked at the cushions that were already placed on the tatami. There were five of them, which told him that the entire Uchiha family was going to be there, which was only slightly surprising because he wasn’t expecting Fugaku to be joining them as well.
He sat down on the cushion, which he guessed was for him, and waited in the silence, looking at the pond outside that had a few koi living in it. To think this home would’ve been cold if things had gone differently. He often thought about that whenever he walked through the Uchiha Compound, seeing the lively clan folks instead of a possible abandoned mark of tragedy.
“Chūnin Takuma…”
He turned his head to see Fugaku standing at the door, dressed in a buttoned haori over a pair of light, cropped pants. It wasn’t every day one got to look at the Uchiha clan head in leisure wear.
“Jōnin Fugaku,” he said, standing up to greet the man. “Pardon my intrusion.”
“Nothing of that. I’m grateful that you’re willing to talk to my son. Please, sit,” Fugaku said, taking a seat himself.
“How is your health, sir? How were your annual check-up scores?”
For only a brief moment, Fugaku searched for something in his eyes before answering that he had something he could do better on some fronts. Takuma recognised the meaning of the gaze. It was asking if he was insinuating something about Itachi’s health. Mikoto didn’t wonder that because they were close enough that she knew that it was an earnest question, but Takuma and Fugaku didn’t share that same relationship.
“What are your thoughts about what’s happening at the Hidden Mist, sir?” Takuma asked. “The loss of jōnin is heavy outside of a war. Not to mention, they lost two of their prized swords… and defection is putting it lightly.”
Fugaku nodded. “They’re in quite a mess; it’s one mess after another with how they run things over there. They’re fortunate that they’re situated on an island, one far away that is. Otherwise, I could see them sharing the same fate as the Hidden Whirlpool for different reasons.”
In the past year, two of their high-profile jōnin had defected from the Hidden Mist.
Hoshigaki Kisame, the Monster of the Hidden Mist, had become a rogue-nin and fled with the Samehada. Immediately after, he had gone on a killing spree, hunting down four of the Hidden Mist’s jōnin before then decapitating the Water Daimyo and nailing his body to a wall, leaving a trail of blood and the bodies of samurai and guards in the royal palace. If that wasn’t enough, a few months later, Momochi Zabuza, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, had attempted to assassinate the Mizukage in a failed coup d'état, and was then forced to flee the village, taking the Kubikiribōchō with him, which he was awarded for his brave service to the village. His departure had also resulted in a few jōnin deaths and a fractured village.
“We can sympathise with their situation,” Fugaku said.
“What irony.”
Just a year ago, the Hidden Leaf had purged ROOT, losing multiple jōnin in the process.
“The death of the Water and Wind Daimyo has created unrest,” Fugaku said.
In a bizarre coincidence, the Wind Daimyo had also died in the past year. He was poisoned and found dead in bed with his favourite mistress. If that wasn’t enough, both of the daimyo’s sons were assassinated within a month, making it so that the Wind Daimyo’s younger brother succeeded him. Many suspected Hidden Sand’s involvement, though there was no proof. Though the new Wind Daimyo, in one of his first decisions, passed an increased military budget for the Hidden Sand.
“The Fire Daimyo was quite spooked,” Takuma said.
The ruler of their country was suddenly worried that the shinobi who had been historically satisfied with the status quo would suddenly start getting ideas from the foreign incidents. The results were a meeting with the Hokage at the Ember Imperial City, who placated the paranoid ruler by taking a slight reduction in military funding as a diplomatic measure.
“Yes, I heard that the clans had to pull back on a lot of things under the change in mandates,” Takuma said. “All of that sounds hectic. Hats off to you for managing it so well.”
It wasn’t just official shinobi business that was hampered. The shinobi clans had to rein in their personal operations across the board. The Uchiha clan had to slow down or find inconvenient workarounds for some of their investments to protect their larger interests because the Fire Daimyo was suddenly conscious that they were doing business in areas of the Land of Fire where his influence was weak.
“Of course, you’d know all about what’s happening. I’ve been hearing more and more about you recently,” Fugaku said.
Takuma couldn’t help but chuckle as something tickled his mind.
“What?” Fugaku asked.
“Thinking about it, you were right. How did you know and so early at that?” Takuma said.
When he was considering his options after returning from the war, Fugaku had offered him an opportunity to continue with the Police Force. His current responsibilities at ANBU shared many similarities with what Fugaku had asked him to do back then.
Fugaku faintly smiled when he realised what Takuma was talking about. “Perhaps that's where Itachi got the idea,” he said. “You accepted him, but rejected me.”
“What can I say? He persuaded me. You should be proud of what he has accomplished,” Takuma said. In the past year, he had become more intimate with Itachi’s work in ANBU. Itachi truly was a different breed from everyone else.
“I am,” Fugaku said without a beat of hesitation.
Takuma smiled.
Mikoto walked in with a tray of refreshments that she set in the centre of the cushions. She pulled out a knife and handed it to Fugaku. “Cut him a slice of castella, dear.” She then got up and walked to the hallway. “Sasuke, Itachi! Come down! Takuma is already here!”
“Thank you,” Takuma said as he received the slice of cake from the Uchiha clan head.
A minute later, the entire Uchiha family was gathered in the living room. Takuma tried to recall the last time he had been in their company with all of them, and it was a couple of months after his lieutenant promotion when he had finally gotten himself out of the ROOT aftermath, and Itachi had hosted him for dinner at his home.
“Takuma, welcome to our home,” Itachi said, dressed in a simple shirt and shorts.
“First child,” Takuma greeted his boss. He turned to the youngest member of the family and nodded in greeting. “Second child.”
“Weird,” Sasuke said, his eyes fluttering to the castella cake.
The twelve-year-old’s eyes sparkled as he received the slice of cake, and a smile bloomed on his face as he savoured the honeyed dessert. Sasuke noticed a gaze, and he quickly put away his smile, mimicking the stoic expression reminiscent of his father and brother, when he found Takuma staring at him.
“What?”
Takuma found Sasuke’s little glare that hid his embarrassment cute.
The presence of the family had made a huge difference in how Sasuke had grown up. Instead of a brooding kid with the memories of death and the thoughts of nothing but revenge, there was now a kid who had grown with his family’s love. He resembled the version Takuma knew in the fact that both of them were still standoffish, but that could be explained away by Sasuke mimicking his role models in his father and brother, neither of whom was a big talker. There were also hints of that Uchiha pride that made them believe they were better than others.
All in all, it was a fantastically positive change.
And yet, Takuma worried how Sasuke would grow without the all-consuming desire for revenge fuelling his need for power. He didn’t want to think about it.
“I should be asking that. You wanted to talk about something?” Takuma asked. Itachi had already told him about it, but he wanted Sasuke to explain it in his own words so they could have a free conversation. “It’s okay, you can ask me anything, and I’ll do my best to answer,” he said when Sasuke looked unsure.
All of them sat in a square with the refreshments in the middle. Takuma and Sasuke sat opposite each other. Itachi sat on one side between them, whereas the parents sat opposite him.
“… You weren’t on a jōnin team when you became a genin,” Sasuke said, tentatively.
“No, I didn’t.” Takuma then chuckled. “They didn’t even let me test for it, you know. I went straight to the Genin Corps.” It was so sad that it turned around to become almost funny in hindsight.
Apparently, it wasn’t funny enough because Sasuke’s eyes widened in fear, as he hadn’t considered that to be a possibility.
“You should already have two graduation test attempts, right? How did you do?” Takuma quickly asked. In the second half of the academy’s final year, the students were given three attempts to pass the graduation test to see if they were ready to call themselves shinobi and gain the rank of genin.
“I passed.”
“Did you ace them?”
Sasuke nodded.
“Then you’ll be fine. I failed miserably. I barely passed my last attempt… Your mom and brother have proudly told me, repeatedly, that you’re top of your class. You’ll get a fair chance to test to be on a jōnin’s team, don’t worry about that.”
That seemed to calm Sasuke’s new fear before it could take hold.
Takuma looked at the others and mouthed, ‘Oops.’
“But what if I fail!” Sasuke asked, a little heated.
“Sasuke, there’s no need to raise your voice,” Fugaku said with a father’s warning tone.
Sasuke didn’t say anything and lowered his head, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes.
That was the real reason for this meeting. Sasuke was scared that he would fail to get on a jōnin’s team, and despite what anyone in his family said, he couldn’t stop thinking that would be the end of his life as a shinobi. Everyone else in his family had been on a jōnin’s team when they became genin, so their saying that he would be fine didn’t really work. That was the reason they called Takuma, who had the experience, to talk to him.
It was a problem that only an overachiever like Sasuke could have.
“Okay, let’s talk through this,” Takuma said calmly, acknowledging the kid’s feelings. “What happens if you aren’t selected for a jōnin’s team?”
“I’d be sent to the Genin Corps and fall behind,” Sasuke said, and only for a moment, he glanced at Itachi.
“Why would you fall behind?” Takuma asked.
“They’d be learning from jōnin, and I won’t be.”
“We have three jōnin in this very room, Sasuke. You can find a few more within walking distance. If you desire jōnin guidance, you’ll never lack it,” Takuma said. As a clan kid, an Uchiha at that—the son of the clan head—Sasuke had incredible privilege. “The real difference between the genin who are taught by jōnin and those who go into the Genin Corps is the quality of missions. I had to spend months doing D-rank missions while my peers were doing C-rank missions, probably right from the get-go.”
The other three looked unsure about what he was saying, but he wanted Sasuke to understand what he was scared of clearly. Only through understanding could he ease his fears.
“I, for one, don’t regret doing all D-rank missions. They taught me a lot of things that help me to this day.”
“Like what?” Sasuke asked, sceptical.
“Do you know how to work as a farm hand, or how to map out the optimal route for doing deliveries, or properly build a wall that wouldn’t fall over?”
“No, but that’s not a shinobi’s job.”
“I was often scolded for doing a bad job. Every week, I did something else, so I had to learn new skills quickly. The D-rank missions taught me to ask the right questions and know what to focus on to quickly get better. Today, when I want to learn a new jutsu, I use the same process.” Takuma detached the leather pouch from his belt and showed it to Sasuke. “I made this. I didn’t like what they had on the market, so I decided to make one perfect for me. I didn’t know how to do leather work, but I learned it… Let’s say that you’re on a mission, and your utility belt or pouch gets damaged. Will you be able to fix it?”
Sasuke shook his head.
“I did just that when I was out on a mission because I knew a lot of skills that aren’t, as you said, a shinobi’s job… A shinobi is more than the chakra he wields. Always remember that. The more you know, the better shinobi you will be.
“But you’re worried about falling behind. How about this: Complete 50 D-rank missions with a five-star rating, which will probably take you two months, and I'll get you in touch with a bunch of chūnin I know who will take on great C-rank missions,” Takuma said. He didn’t need to do that because the Uchiha clan would take care of that all on their own. “And if you still don’t want to be in the Genin Corps, you can always join the Police Force.”
Sasuke looked towards Fugaku, who nodded.
“You were in the Police Force, too,” Sasuke said.
“I was. Before I joined, the Police Force was just the Uchiha clan and their allies. The Police Force and the Uchiha clan are one and the same. You’d fit right in.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Sasuke asked, once again sneaking a glance at Itachi. He was a kid who admired his brother over everything else. Itachi never joined the Police Force.
“That’s the neat part. You join a jōnin’s team, you’re locked in for four years; they decide what you get to do. But in the Genin Corps, you get to choose. I went to the Police Force, one of my friends trained to be an iryō-nin from early on, another one joined the Leaf’s Intelligence Division, and one of them didn’t go anywhere and was so good that they had him lead missions as a genin—he’s now a chūnin by the way.”
Takuma was painting a picture of what the Genin Corps would be for Sasuke, which would be a very different experience from most people’s. But Sasuke didn’t need to know that right in this moment; there was all the time in the world for him to realise the system’s unfairness. This talk was about easing a kid’s fear.
“I was the fourth chūnin in my class—fifth if we include your brother, which we should not—and I’m not a great student like you. It doesn’t matter if a jōnin selects you or not. Do your best, and you could be the first chūnin in your class.”
“So, you don’t regret not being on a jōnin’s team?” Sasuke asked.
“I won’t lie, kid. I think I’d have a much easier time if I were on a jōnin’s team, and if offered, I would’ve taken it in a heartbeat because it’s clearly better—but the thing is, I really love where I’m at right now, and I don’t think I’d be here if I had been on a jōnin’s team. I’m the result of my experiences, if you know what I mean—”
“I don’t.”
“—that’s fine, I guess. My point is that a jōnin’s team isn’t the end-all, be-all. In fact, it’s only the start. You have an entire career afterwards. Everyone here knows that you’ll be excellent in whatever you choose to do.” Takuma hummed in thought. “If there’s one thing you miss out on in the Genin Corps, it’d be the feeling of being on a team. In a jōnin’s team, you’ll train alongside the same two people who’ll be there with you for every mission and fight. You don’t get that in the Genin Corps; you work with people who randomly got the same job… The closest thing I got to it would be my experience in the war. I built friendships that would last a lifetime. And there’s a girl that I don’t think I’d ever willingly hang out with because she’s boring, but I’d still undoubtedly trust my back to her.”
Takuma paused, and after a very quick decision, he decided to give in to the temptation.
“Here’s the thing, none of this matters because you’ll do well on the jōnin’s test and be selected. Everyone believes in you. But if you’re still worried, want me to give you a tip?”
Sasuke nodded. “I’d like that.”
“The jōnin's test, whatever it may be, will be tough. You don’t have to beat it alone. You’ll be with your classmates, so lead your friends to beat whatever challenge is set and impress the socks off the jōnin with teamwork and your ability to lead.”
Sasuke chewed on those words. The frown between his brows told him that he still wasn’t convinced, but that was normal and probably wouldn’t go away until he was on a jōnin’s team.
“Can I ask you more questions about the Genin Corps?” he asked.
“Yes, ask away,” Mikoto suddenly said. “He isn’t going anywhere before having dinner with us.”
Takuma picked up his plate of castella cake. “Dessert before dinner is nice once in a while.”
“See, how he just agreed without complaining?” Mikoto nodded with a satisfied smile. “Learn from him, all of you.”