Sinbad
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Chapter 5: Home
🕑 Added 2025-07-15 01:56:28 +0000 UTCHome
June 1, 1 bNb
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A wooden archway marked the entrance to the Uchiha Clan compound, and it looked just as it had when Izuma last saw it.
The archway itself was a gift from Hashirama Senju as a mark of reconciliation and trust between the Senju and Uchiha. It had very minor cracks on the corners, mainly because the last time it had been refurbished was when Madara was still a part of the village, but overall, it stood as proud as the clan itself.
Izuma slowed down as he passed under it, peering up at the clan symbol on the archway. The sound of his footsteps echoed over the smooth stone underfoot.
It had been months since he’d been back, and yet it seemed all the same.
The same old smell of freshly scrubbed wood, the same old quiet that, thankfully, never seemed unnerving, and the same old light breeze that wafted the scent of roses.
A winding street surrounded by traditional Japanese wooden houses cut through the compound, marking a path for onlookers to follow. Lanterns hung unlit above the doorways, and in another couple of hours, they would be illuminated beautifully. Trees lined the paths—towering, old, and ramrod straight, much like the clan they belonged to.
People were out, which wasn’t surprising considering the good weather.
Izuma hummed a tune as he followed the path. Some glanced up as he passed—whispers followed, then more heads turned. Full-blown conversations died down quickly; instead, the folks opted to greet him.
“Welcome home, Izuma.”
“Good to see you, kid,” An elderly Uchiha clansman said.
Izuma nodded and returned their greeting before continuing on his way.
A pair of Uchiha police officers passed him on their way to the station. Both were garbed in flak vests, with batons slung at their sides.
One of them, no younger than thirty, gave him a whistle. “Red Fang, huh? Don’t say we have to start saluting you now,” he joked.
The other elbowed him and said, “What do you mean start? I saluted him last year after that mission in the Frost.”
He chuckled and waved them off. He had been popular before, but never to this extent. Clearly, word of his exploits in the war had gotten around, and now everyone was raring to see the new Uchiha celebrity.
No surprise there, the Uchiha compound was quiet by nature, sure, but news—especially about one of their own—moved faster than any summoning hawk. If you so much as changed your hairstyle, three aunties would know before you turned the corner.
And he wasn’t some child who’d changed his hairstyle; rather, he was a ninja who had changed entire landscapes to his will. To the Uchihas, he was the pride and joy of the clan, someone whom the entire village respected and admired.
Even the older folk—sticklers who would cross their arms, furrow their brows, and argue that this newer generation was so much softer than the old—didn’t bother fighting the small smiles that tugged at their mouths as he passed by.
It was like having an old head say LeBron was the goat.
He was snapped out of his musings as three kids ran by on the far side of the road—two boys and a girl, maybe eight or nine, all grinning. They slowed down when they spotted him. The girl’s eyes widened.
“Is that him?” she whispered, just loud enough for Izuma to hear.
“The Red Fang,” one of the boys answered, awestruck.
Izuma lifted a hand lazily in greeting. “Boo.”
All three jumped, then giggled and ran off faster. He smiled and kept walking.
As he turned the corner, the path narrowed slightly as he neared the home of the clan leader.
The white stone steps remained all the same: smooth from decades of use and weathered storms. A wind chime was hung in the corner, swaying gently. The paper door was half-slid open.
Izuma exhaled, finally allowing himself to feel a sliver of comfort.
He was home.
He climbed the steps and rapped twice on the wood frame before stepping inside.
“Mikoto?” he called out softly.
A moment later, a voice answered from within.
“In here!”
He toed off his boots and stepped inside the house.
The scent of something miso-based drifted through the house. Izuma followed it down the narrow hallway until he turned into the kitchen.
Mikoto stood at the stove, long black hair swept up, apron over a simple blue yukata. She turned when she saw him, and her face lit with a smile that reached her eyes.
“There you are,” she said.
He smiled. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You’re exactly on time. I just finished the soup.” She waved a hand at the small dining table set against the back window. “Sit down, you look thinner than I remember.”
He did as told, dropping into the cushion with a soft exhale. He felt any lingering tension in his shoulders leave as he sank deeper into the seat.
He turned back slightly, gazing out the window behind him to see the garden in the back, where the wind caused gentle ripples in the koi pond.
Mikoto moved fluidly and soundlessly, setting bowls down with practiced ease.
Grilled fish, steamed greens, miso soup, rice. All comfort food.
He waited until she sat across from him before he spoke.
“You didn’t have to go through all this.”
Mikoto arched a brow. “I didn’t. This is what I was making for myself. You just got lucky.”
Izuma huffed a laugh. “Guess I’ve still got good timing.”
She smiled. But it softened a moment later.
“You’ve been gone a long time.”
He looked down at the bowl of soup, steam curling from the surface. “War’s been…busy.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Nah.”
She didn’t press. That was another thing he’d always appreciated about Mikoto—she never pushed too far, never asked for stories.
That didn’t mean she did not help, however. She sat close and was there if you needed to talk. Made sure you didn’t carry any burden alone.
“I heard from Fugaku you were being recalled,” she said after a moment.
He nodded. “Just got back this morning. Hokage called me in. Looks like I’ll be here until the eighth.”
“That’s good,” she said quietly. “You’ll stay the night?”
He hesitated for half a second. But he was tired, and this was home.
“If it’s not a bother.”
Mikoto gave him a look. “This is your home, too, Izuma. You never need to ask that.”
He smiled.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. He looked up halfway through and said, “Where’s Itachi?”
“Out with Fugaku. He took him to the headquarters for the day—wanted to show him around, introduce him to the patrol captains and all.”
He nodded. It made sense. Itachi was getting older, and people had begun to see how talented he was, so Fugaku probably wanted to start grooming him early.
God, speaking of Itachi, when he was first reincarnated, the man he feared most was none other than Uchiha Itachi. The fuckin’ baba yaga of the Uchiha clan.
Turns out his worries were all for naught. He was born way ahead of the timeline—so far, that he wasn’t just there for Itachi’s birth, but the future clan killer even called him his elder brother.
The first time Itachi had referred to him as such, Izuma had spent two weeks straight perfecting his kunai and shuriken tossing so he could teach Itachi.
Now, when the world would see Itachi’s skills in action, Izuma would be able to say he taught Itachi everything he knew.
And the world would see his skills, just not in the form of the Uchiha massacre. No way. Every ounce of training—and he had put a lot of ounces in training, the sheer number of broken bones could attest to that—was to thwart that very future.
It was also partially why he had decided to help out so much with Itachi and Shisui’s training.
Though he supposed he would always have helped Itachi. Fugaku and Mikoto were pretty much his parents in all but name—by the way, did that even matter? All Uchiha were technically related after all.
Shisui, on the other hand, didn’t have the luck of being born the son of the clan leader. After his parents had passed, all he was left with was his grandmother. Despite his cheerful smile, he had been quite the sad little Uchiha prodigy.
That’s where he stepped in—and wasn’t that the best decision he had ever made? It killed two birds with one stone, really. He got two awesome little brothers, and hopefully, also got to prevent the massacre.
Although he began his preparations early, circumventing something as disastrous as the massacre would take a lot of small steps.
One such step was helping Itachi and Shisui not to follow the will of fire blindly. The ideal itself wasn’t that bad, but when it was taken to the extreme—he was looking at Danzo here—where your only concern is the village, then it became an issue.
“Izuma?”
Izuma’s eyes flew up to Mikoto, and he gave a sheepish smile before continuing his meal.
Mikoto’s hand paused over her chopsticks as her mouth parted slightly for the faintest moment.
“Something on your mind?” he asked.
Truthfully, it was unusual to see Mikoto hesitate—usually, she was quite forthcoming with whatever she had to say.
“No,” she shook her head.
She finished another bite of her food before looking up again.
“You know, seeing you again reminds me of when Fugaku brought you along to the headquarters for the first time.”
Izuma chuckled. “I think I spent the whole tour staring at his back and pretending I wasn’t intimidated.”
“He said you were insufferably curious. Asked questions about everything. So much that one of the other officers even asked you to shut up.”
Mikoto laughed alongside him this time.
“I’m happy you never lost it, though—your curiosity, I mean. It’s nice to see someone take an interest in the world around them, not to mention I’m sure it’s saved your skin a couple of times as a shinobi.”
He smiled faintly. “Probably more than a couple,” he admitted, putting his chopsticks down with a satisfied sigh.
“If half the idiots I fought asked more questions and were a bit more curious—about their surroundings, especially—I’m sure they wouldn’t have got their heads taken clean off.”
Mikoto gave him a flat look. "Izuma."
He held up a hand in surrender. "Fine, fine. Head nearly taken off."
She let out an exasperated sigh, but turned back to her meal nonetheless.
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The clink of dishes and rumbling of water faded behind him as he stepped into the hallway.
The house wasn’t very big. Heck, by some clan standards—cough, Hyuga, cough—it was even modest.
But that didn’t really matter when there were only four members in it. Not to mention, the smaller size made it feel more homely.
Every room held a piece of someone: a low table cluttered with half-read scrolls, a pair of Itachi’s sandals tucked just beside the door, the edge of Mikoto’s embroidery kit peeking out from beneath a cushion.
He passed the living room and the doors that led to his old room. Mikoto hadn’t touched it, far as he could tell.
He let his cloak slide off his shoulders and onto the floor. The ceiling beams above hadn’t changed either, still etched with tiny scratch marks where he’d once tossed senbon up in boredom.
And there, on the edge of the doorframe, was the tiny scrap of tape he’d once placed as a lazy security seal—it had been torn through ages ago, but never fully peeled off. A single triangle of it still clung to the wood.
He’d meant to take it off years ago, but had gotten lazy. Though, a small part of him felt oddly comforted at the sight.
This place, unlike him, hadn’t changed in the slightest.
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Outside, the sun was still bright, and in a few hours, the academy day would end. School was from eight to three, just like how it was in the US.
Death, taxes, and egregious school times were, apparently, the three things you could never escape from.
He was planning on picking Shisui up from the academy, one, to surprise him. And two, to ask why he hadn’t said anything about graduation.
Besides, it was only fair that he was the one to pick him up now that he was back, considering that it had been he who had pushed Shisui to try and make friends at the academy.
That was the thing with Uchihas; they barely made any. And how can you have a good mental state—as good as it could get, considering their profession—if you had no one to share your woes and victories with?
He stood on the wooden engawa, hands tucked into his cloak sleeves as he looked down, watching the koi pond ripple as a fish emerged, only to dip back into the water just as quickly.
This place—this house—was the first home he’d really had in either life.
An elderly Uchiha couple had gifted him his own little place before, but this house had his family.
Upon hearing that he was living alone, Fugaku had brought him over for dinner whenever the two trained together. Which was really often, considering that Fugaku was his jonin sensei. Now that he looked back on it, he had really lucked out—having the Wicked Eye training, and practically adopting you, was about as lucky as one could get.
He still remembered the first dinner he had shared with Fugaku and Mikoto. They had no children at that point, so it was just the three of them, and man, oh man, was it awkward as hell.
Mikoto, bless her heart, had practically carried the conversation by herself. Fugaku was as stoic as always, and he was too intimidated by Fukagu to get a sentence out without stammering.
A rustle behind him snapped him from his thoughts, and he had to fight the urge to create space and pull out a kunai. It seemed like he really had gotten too comfortable here if he was spacing out like that.
Mikoto stepped out onto the engawa with a folded blanket in her arms.
“I laid out your futon,” she said. “Sheets might be a little stiff—I washed them last week, but they haven’t been used. Hopefully, come nighttime, they’ll be more comfortable. ”
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
She set the blanket down and joined him at the railing. The silence between them was comfortable.
After a moment, she glanced sideways. “You’ve changed.”
“Yeah?” He kept his eyes on the pond.
“Hmm, how do I say this? I guess you carry yourself differently now, more like the way Fugaku does. It looks a bit like you're weighed down by responsibilities. But, I suppose that’s to be expected with how much the village expects you to do,” she finished with a sad smile.
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled for a nod.
“You used to come home from missions talking a mile a minute,” Mikoto continued. “Now you barely speak.”
“That’s war for you,” he murmured, inwardly cringing at his younger self. Man, now that he was reminiscing, he really did use to blabber so much.
Mikoto fell quiet again. Then she said, “You know, he never says it, but he’s proud of you.”
He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the koi pond, and instead meeting Mikoto’s gaze.
She met his gaze with a proud smile this time. “Fugaku. You know just as well as I how terrible he is with words. I’m telling you, he’d sooner face a Kage than compliment someone to their face,” she sighed.
He snorted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
Mikoto chuckled and leaned forward to rest her chin on her palm. "Still, he brags about you whenever he can. A jonin from the patrol squad came by last week, and Fugaku spent a full ten minutes talking about your last mission in the Frost region. Not to mention, whenever he’s training with Itachi, he always tells him to just do whatever you did."
"Ten minutes?" Izuma raised a brow.
She laughed again, more freely this time. "Don’t let it go to your head."
"Too late."
The sky deepened into orange, and a gust of wind rustled the leaves of nearby trees.
"I should probably get going soon," he said at last.
"Shisui?"
"Mhm. Thought I’d pick him up today."
"He’ll be happy to see you. He’s started swinging by to ask Fugaku how your missions have been going pretty often as of late. I think he’s really been missing you, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
He shook his head in amusement. “To be honest, I’ve missed him as well. It’s been…odd not having someone yap my ears off.”
Mikoto stood straight and brushed off her hands. "Tell him to stop by after. Dinner’s at seven."
Izuma gave a two-fingered salute. “Will do. Thanks again for everything, Mom.”
Mikoto’s smile widened. “Anytime.”
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A/N: Sorry for the long delay on the chapter, had a bunch of things to do between chapters four and five.
And this is my way of making up for not being able to post a England's Greatest chapter today, lol.
Also, quick question, do you guys want to see this Naruto fic more or the MHA fic? Lmk, and I’ll go forward with what you guys choose.
Comments
Cobalt
Also this even with 5 chapters is honestly one of the better naruto fics I've read, kinda didn't know you were planning on an mha fic tbh bit I'd like to see more of this if only to get more backstory or flashbacks for his current mentality and uchiha politics stuff
Cobalt
Oh sweet I kinda forgot about this and the hyuga fic
cybersage
This naruto fic.
