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No matter his skill with a kunai or aptitude for academia, @uchihaprodigy was still a child, thus, for as long as Mikoto could help it, entitled to his fair share of childish delights. She sets a small bowl of cut fruit in front of him ( strawberries, tangerines, apple, mango; a selection that would make any sweet tooth falter ) before taking a seat at the table. It was becoming harder to have moments like these with him. The village was determined to strip the baby fat from his cheeks the same way a hunter flayed a deer to reach prime venison, rendering the animal into useful flesh and useless scrap, as if he were only ——— ...

A dark prediction in her body, but a warmth upon her face : Mikoto’s joy, gently unobtrusive in the space between them. It was a skill, exchanging personhood for motherhood, shelving the worry from his sight like memoirs in a shoebox; only her Lord husband would be allowed to see the inner compartments of her psyche. For Itachi...

For Itachi, there was only this. A pleasantly cool room. A family dinner table. The sugary scent of a mother’s love. The offer of being a normal boy, ever present, even if he did not wish to take it.

❝ What kind of birthday party would you like this year, Itachi? Is there anyone you would like to invite? ❞

#tl;dr: three paragraphs of mikoto internally wanting to cry bc she knows itachi won't have many normal child experiences in his life </3 #uchihaprodigy #*in character.

Mother’s love personified : as salves, as gauze, as the gentle stroking of @hissins's back, a reassurance to signal him to rest. Sasuke was cultivating himself the best a child could, but even children are slaves to their bodies. His had yet to catch up to his ambition, motor skills a future ally but a current hindrance. The only cure was either to stop, or to keep going. Mikoto sighed, adjusting the tape fixed to his face, tempted to lay a kiss upon his cheeks... But, as was the case with one so young, the likelihood it was not just his flesh that was wounded kept her from coming any closer.

❝ There you go : all better... As long as you don’t pick at it, it won’t scar. ❞

❝ Sasuke... Have you been training by yourself? ❞

#hissins #*in character.#she is Worried.

❝ Itachi is diligent... Perhaps to a fault. He hardly takes breaks unless it asked of him, or for someone else’s sake. ❞

She felt a voyeur : prying into her son’s life where she knew he would prefer her not to. @sharkfinx is regarded with dormant Sharingan, dark eyes revealing nothing of her assessment. His companions were his own, to be timidly introduced to her at dinners and just as quickly squirrelled away ( before she brought out the baby pictures, that is ) , not summoned for tea before his back. Not that her eldest had ever had anything of the sort; birthday parties, sleepovers, game nights, all exchanged for missions and briefings. No friend made now could replace his childhood deficiencies ——— but they could try, and that was enough...

Mikoto refocused herself with a shinobi’s discipline. There were times intrusions upon her children’s lives were necessary, a precaution that she would not be able to sleep without; being a good mother did not always mean being a likeable one.

❝ Please… Take care of my son, Hoshigaki-san. ❞

#sharkfinx #*in character.

Matriarchal duties were numerous and never-ending, an obligation hidden beneath the titles and deeds Fugaku had included in her bride price. That, she would admit she had not wished for. But over the years, she had learnt something, a plain fact that prevented her complaints from ever being spoken : a matriarch and a mother are not the same. They resembled each other in shades, at times, periwinkle scraped knees and sangria revolt and spite, but never would Mikoto think of her children as a burden, merely things to be dealt with.

If the clan’s pressure was the cost for her sons, then she would pay that dowry a thousand times over. No cousin’s spat could compare to the little joys, nor village negotiations to deciding on what’s for dinner. Today had been difficult, even for her, but she could only smile as she measured @sasaxkage‘s height against the beam, inscribing a new line atop the wood. She motioned for the boy to come to her side, to turn and see his newest achievement.

❝ And that is… Another three centimetres this year. At this rate, you might even be taller than Itachi soon. Do you like the sound of that? ❞

#sasaxkage #*in character.

❝ My heart is full of doubts. ❞ ——— @uchibito.

In one of the world’s greatest villages, a boy could be considered a man simply because he throws a kunai straight. Such was the nature of wartime, the nature of Konoha itself; one could not forget how young she and her esteemed Head had been upon their graduations, among a host of other should-be innocents... And yet / and yet / and yet, despite her familiarity with the law, Mikoto could not forget the truth behind it all, behind Obito’s little Chunin vest wrapped around his little Chunin body ——— this was only a child.

❝ Obito-kun, I’ll tell you a secret since you’re now an adult... ❞ Treasonous notions are swallowed, replaced by only a soft smile. Matriarch : image of perfection, sat seiza-style even within the comfort of her home, she invites her poor, confused subject to come closer with a wave.

( Any Uchiha with an ounce of political smarts would know he can not refuse, not unless he rid himself of all his bloodlines, all his honor, all rightful deference to those who laid above his lineage... But it was sweet to think fear was not why he took his seat beside her. Perhaps that was the case, considering the boy’s age. Not even a shinobi education could completely crush a young boy’s naiveite... And that broke Mikoto's heart. )

❝ All grown-up have doubts, no matter how much they seem otherwise... We do what we think is best, but nobody knows if their choices are correct while they make them. We must endure, and believe in ourselves. So, cousin... ❞

❝ While it’s good to lend an ear to one’s doubts, wary of possible regrets... Don’t let it overpower you. You are a good boy, and I have faith in you... ❞

#uchibito #*in character.

They say a mother’s work is never done. Even with her children grown, both distinguished shinobi of their own right, she found herself busy each day without fail; perhaps the phrase had some credence, after all. But ——— such was how she liked it. For better or for worse, Mikoto and Fugaku were ever diligent in their respective duties, and had built a household without aperture in any aspect... Except in perhaps one ——— one Mikoto would correct, if her heart had its way!

@charaisuke is greeted by the sight of his mother at the sink, clearing away the pots and pans tonight’s dinner had claimed. Leaving them to fester on the countertops as they ate was simply inexcusable; it would do Sasuke good if he learnt similar habits, rather than the more social ones his clanmates reported. She does not turn to face him; it was unnecessary when recognising just which of her sons awaited his fill.

❝ Hello, Sasuke. Are you hungry? ❞

❝ ... I wish I saw you more often. ❞

#*in character.#charaisuke #hello !!

It was rare for outsiders to come to the Uchiha district after the Kyubi; so rare, in fact, that seeing @sociieties was a shock for Mikoto, ceremonial mother to all who lived here. She was not her husband; she did not have every name of her kin memorised by heart, nor every face, but she knew an unknown when she saw one. A strangeness overtook her. Familiarity in the interloper; a smattering of genetic markers that made Mikoto pause with an animal recognition. Shopping could wait.

❝ Good evening, sir... ❞

❝ Excuse me, but... Are you perhaps an Uchiha? ❞

#sociieties #*in character.#pee-paw is that u ??

#*in character.

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