Chapter 15: The Strong

Another year slipped by in the blink of an eye.

Itachi and I turned eight, marking a new chapter in our young lives. As a new genin, Itachi was now actively engaged in missions with his assigned team. Though these missions provided him with a touch more experience, it was evident that his skills far surpassed those of his teammates. This disparity often left him feeling frustrated, as he found it challenging to hone his abilities further when the tasks at hand offered little in the way of true challenge.

Meanwhile, Shisui, who had reached the age of 11, had swiftly ascended the ranks, first achieving the status of chunin and then, remarkably, being promoted to jonin. This made him the youngest jonin in the village, evident in his exceptional talent and dedication. The weight of his responsibilities grew with each passing day, as more and more was expected of him. His schedule was packed, leaving him just as busy as ever, if not more so.

During this time, I found myself consumed by thoughts of the vision that had haunted me. Even though it caused me great pain, I realized I couldn't simply sit by as our destinies slowly unfolded.

Determined to play an active role in whatever was to come, I dedicated myself to studying medical ninjutsu so that I may increase their chance of surviving their injuries while also knowing that I can't just stand on the sideline. My goal was to be able to heal and fight—to be a truly versatile warrior who could support and defend their friends in times of need.

In my quest for more extensive training, I traveled to the Hidden Frost Village, hoping to find a teacher who could guide me. However, my efforts were futile. Despite my countless visits and pleas, I was still an outcast, unable to find anyone willing to take me under their wings.

I couldn't go too far from home, either. Grandpa needed me, and I didn't want him to be alone, especially knowing how quiet it could get on the outskirts of the village.

Yet, I persisted, hoping that someone might eventually see me as a charity case, if nothing else.

~~~

"You're going on a mission that may take at least a week?" I asked in a whisper, lying on my belly as Sasuke, who was now three years old napped quietly beside me. His nose was buried in my fur and his arm graped over my cat form.

"Yes, although I don't really see the point in it," Itachi replied, gently patting his brother.

Curious, I pressed for more details. "What is your mission?"

"We're escorting the Land of Fire's daimyo on his annual visit to the Hidden Leaf," he explained. "But the daimyo will have his 12 guardian ninjas as well as the protection of Anbu. My team—Team 2—will largely just be for decoration."

I understood his frustration. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Shisui would soon return from his mission, and Itachi wouldn't be able to see him until he came back.

The Land of Fire...

The name stirred something within me, a feeling of unease that I couldn't quite shake.

But when I looked at him again, I realized there was more to his frustration; he was genuinely upset, his lips pulled into a pout as he gazed out at the training yard. The wooden targets stood there, each marked with perfect bullseyes, silent witnesses to his skills.

Carefully, I extricated myself from Sasuke's tiny grasp, moving to sit beside Itachi. "Come here," I called gently.

He twisted his head to look down at me, confusion furrowing his brow.

I gestured with a paw, beckoning him closer. "I'm a cat, you know. You've got to come closer than that."

Curious, he bent down until his eyes were level with mine. "What is—"

Before he could finish, I reached up and poked him on the forehead. "That frown doesn't look good on you. I'm sure one day, you'll get the mission you're hoping for."

He pulled back slightly, his ears tinged with a faint blush, nodding along with my words.

"Itachi, you must understand that people like your teammates and I struggle every day with our weaknesses and flaws, unlike you and Shisui," I said more solemnly, searching his eyes for understanding. "We have a lot on our plate, and it's already very frustrating for us. You need to recognize that not everyone can do what you can." I pointed at him and then crossed my arms. "If I were you, I'd be happy to do whatever I could to help those who are a bit behind, instead of being upset that you can't do anything important."

"But, Aki, you're not like everyone else," he tried to point out.

Taking a deep breath, I continued. "Itachi, you and Shisui are prodigies of your generation, you know that. To everyone else—and me—you two are so far ahead. You have no idea how much effort I put into my training and studying just to catch up... and when I think I'm a bit closer, you two have already moved ten steps ahead." I paused, hoping he would understand. "I'm sure your teammates feel the same way as me. So, just like you're helping me, you should help them too."

"Aki..." Itachi nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "I understand. I'll be more patient and support my team. But, I don't think you're weak. I believe you're truly strong."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," I said, a playful pout on my lips.

"No," he shook his head, "You do your very best no matter what form you take. Even in this form, you still push yourself and train just to get stronger," he said, his smile warm and genuine. "And you always get back up, no matter how many times you fall. That is what makes you strong."

I looked down, staring at my paws. I knew he was right, in a way, but it still felt like it wasn't enough. I still needed to get a whole lot stronger.

"Itachi," I said, my tone turning serious as I looked up at him again.

He blinked, noticing the change in my voice. "What is it?"

Meeting his eyes, I spoke earnestly. "Listen to me. On this mission, if you happen to come across a strange man wearing a mask, you must be careful and not act irrationally. He is dangerous."

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

He frowned, confused. "Why?"

I lowered my gaze, struggling to articulate my thoughts. "I know that sometimes my answers to your questions may be vague and can be frustrating, but—" I looked up again, searching his dark eyes. "Just trust me on this."

"Okay," he agreed, though I could see the concern lingering in his eyes. I knew he was apprehensive about the mission, but perhaps it was for the best.

~~~

A few days passed, and I made my way to the summit, where Shisui had promised to meet me upon his return. As I leaped from roof to roof, I caught sight of him below, walking alongside his mother. His mother was carrying a small bouquet of white lilies. The grim expressions on their faces told me that something was amiss. He had once mentioned his father's forgetfulness but had offered little else, not wanting to worry Itachi and me.

Curious and concerned, I decided to follow them from above, my heart heavy with the foreboding sense that something was wrong.

To my shock, they were heading toward the village hospital. I hesitated, debating whether I should follow them inside. Perhaps I could walk in as nonchalantly as a cat, hoping no one would notice. If I spotted any shinobi, I'd simply turn and run the other way. I'd be extra careful.

With that plan in mind, I strolled into the hospital, my eyes scanning the first floor. To the right was the receptionist's desk, where a line was slowly forming. Straight ahead was a lounge area, where patients and visitors sat waiting. Everyone seemed preoccupied or lost in their own world, too distracted to notice a cat like me. I concluded that no shinobi were present on the first floor.

Then, I noticed Shisui and his mother stepping into an elevator. I quickly made my way to it, noting the floor level they selected: Level 2.

It was just up the stairs. I scrambled up the steps, arriving just in time to see them enter a room. I carefully scanned the hallway, ensuring no shinobi were present before I approached the door they had entered, only to find it closed shut.

I frowned, feeling frustrated by the limitations of my cat paws so I simply waited by the door.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts. I leaped to my feet, instinctively stepping back as Shisui's mother emerged, carrying a vase of wilted flowers and the fresh bouquet of white lilies, presumably to replace them.

Before she could close the door, I slipped inside with quiet precision, surprised she didn't notice me.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, most of the light came from the open window. The only sounds were the steady beeping of monitors, a reminder of the fragility of life. Shisui sat on a stool by the hospital bed, gently holding the hand of the man lying there—his father.

The sight was a shock; his father lay there, sleeping soundly, hooked up to an IV and surrounded by machines. My gaze drifted down, and I noticed with a sinking heart that one of his legs was missing.

My heart ached as I took in the scene before me.

Shisui's small form seemed dwarfed by the gravity of the situation, his hands clutching tightly to his father's much larger one. It was a poignant reminder that his responsibilities didn't end with his missions as a jonin; they extended into his family life as well.

I froze, my heart breaking but unsure of what to do. I knew I shouldn't be here. Shisui was having a deeply personal moment with his father, and I had no right to intrude. Yet now, having seen him like this, I felt unable to leave.

But as I observed him in that quiet, intimate moment, I realized I was witnessing a side of Shisui that I had never seen before. Typically, Shisui embodied strength and maturity, far beyond his years. He was the dependable one, the rock upon which we all leaned, always ready with a reassuring smile and a word of encouragement. His laughter was infectious, his spirit unyielding. It was easy to forget that beneath that confident exterior, he was still human—still, just a boy carrying the weight of adults' responsibilities on his young shoulders.

Yet here he was, his usual mask of strength slipping away to reveal the vulnerability hidden beneath. His shoulders, usually squared with determination, now trembled with the quiet sobs that escaped him. His hands, which were so often steady, now clutched tightly to his father's, as if seeking solace in the familiar warmth.

I had forgotten that even the strongest among us have moments where the burdens become too heavy to bear alone.

Why would I even consider leaving at a time like this? In this moment of raw vulnerability, Shisui needed someone to stand beside him, to share in the burden that weighed so heavily on his heart. This was what I had always wanted—to be there for my friends when they needed me the most, to offer them the same unwavering support and friendship they had given me countless times before.

Quietly, I approached him, careful not to disturb his moment of solace. I hopped onto the bedside next to him as he slowly felt my presence.

"Aki?" he murmured, surprised but quickly collecting himself. He wiped his tears with his shirt, turning his head to avoid my gaze, embarrassed.

"Oh, Shisui," I whispered through the bitterness of the situation, rising onto my hind legs to hug him. The moment I wrapped my paws around his neck, I felt his body tense. "If I were in my human form right now, I'd give you a long, big hug, but I'm sorry this is the best I can do."

After a moment, he relaxed and returned the gesture, holding me gently. "I didn't want you to see me like this, Aki... I'd only wanted to show you my strong side."

I squeezed him tighter, tears forming at the edges of my eyes. "Don't be silly. I don't expect you to be strong all the time just because you're older. We're all human—or in my case, cat—and none of us can be strong all the time."

Slowly, Shisui pulled back from the hug and looked at me. His face was so close that I could see each strand of his lashes framing his dark eyes. As I stared deeply into them, I noticed the dark circles beneath and the fatigue that had been expertly hidden away. He had shouldered so much and learned to hide his troubles so well that not even Itachi and I had noticed. Just how often he had put on a brave face for the sake of others, never allowing himself the luxury of showing weakness.

"For today," I said sincerely, poking his forehead with a paw, "let me be the strong one. Let me shoulder, if not all, then some of your burdens. You don't have to carry the weight alone, Shisui."

I didn't realize the full impact of my words until I finished speaking and looked up to find him watching me with an intensity that took me by surprise. His dark eyes were fixed on mine, unblinking, and in their depths, I could see my own reflection staring back at me. The world seemed to pause for a moment, the air between us charged with something I couldn't quite understand yet.

"You—"

The door creaked open again, and Shisui shot up from his seat, turning around to face his mother.

"Mother, y-you're back," he stammered, scratching the back of his neck, sounding unlike himself. There was a nervousness in his voice that surprised me.

"What's wrong, dear?" his mother asked, holding the vase now filled with fresh white lilies. "Why are you all red and sweaty? Do you have a fever?"

"What?" He let out a casual laugh, though it sounded forced. "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

My eyes shifted between Shisui and his mother, trying to gauge the situation from behind him. Quickly, he made his way past her to the door, glancing back at me, his expression reassuring, like his usual self.

"Come," he beckoned.

I followed him out the door, and he assured his mother that he was just stepping outside for some fresh air and would return in a few minutes. Then, he led me to the elevator, and we ascended to the top floor: the rooftop.

The rooftop was a vast open space; a section was dedicated to gardening, while another was set aside for relaxation with a few benches stationed near the railing.

He guided me to a quiet corner where two giant water tanks stood. Taking a deep breath, he stretched out his arms. "There's nothing like fresh air!"

"Shisui," I reminded him gently, "share the burden, remember?"

He turned to look at me thoughtfully, a wry smile on his lips. "You're pretty demanding, Aki. You know I'm your senior."

I flexed my claws playfully. "Do you want me to force it out of you?"

He laughed aloud, but it gradually faded into a more somber tone. With a sad smile, he walked to the edge of the rooftop and sat down, leaning against the rails with his elbows on his knees as he curled into a ball.

"My father's condition is getting worse," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, not meeting my eyes. "The doctors don't know what's wrong with him, so they don't know how to help. They think it might be related to losing his leg during the war..."

I realized with a jolt that he was shaking, his whole body trembling. I ran to him, desperate to offer comfort despite my small, furry form.

"And they said..." He paused as if the next words were too painful to utter. After a moment, he continued, his hands clenched so tightly I could see the whiteness of his knuckles. "They said he has less than six months to live. If by some miracle he survives past that, then maybe a year."

Desperate to console him, I nuzzled against his side, wishing I could do more than offer my presence.

"Shisui, I lost my mother too," I confessed softly. "Although she passed when I was a toddler, it's still a loss I feel as keenly today." Gently, I patted him with a paw. "My grandpa told me that life and death are part of a continuous cycle. Though the people we cherish may be gone, their love and memories live on within us. He said that death is not the end, but a new beginning. We will all be reunited with those we've lost."

At my words, Shisui finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, and the raw emotion I saw there took my breath away. There was a vulnerability in his expression that was both heart-wrenching and profoundly human. In their depths, I could read the unspoken questions and fears that plagued his thoughts; the uncertainty of what lay ahead for him and his mother, of potential loss, and the changes it might bring, was etched into his features, a shadow that dimmed the light that usually shone in his eyes.

"You must also count your blessings," I implored, my voice trembling with urgency. "You still have your mother, your friends, Itachi, and me... We're all here for you... Whatever may come, we can face it together, okay? You don't have to always be the strong one!"

As I spoke, my emotions surged, overwhelming me with their intensity. Tears streamed down my cheeks, soaking into his shirt as I pressed closer, my voice rising with a fervent plea. "It's okay to show weakness! It doesn't mean you're weak—you're only human! Idiot!"

Through his pain, Shisui managed a small, tender smile, his eyes softening as he reached out to gently pat my head. "You're the first to ever call me an idiot," he teased, his voice laced with a lightness that belied the heaviness of the moment. I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision, snot trickling down my nose—I was an ugly mess.

"I'm... I'm not joking!" I protested, swatting him with my paw in a feeble attempt to convey the seriousness of my words.

"Aki..." His voice was a hushed whisper, filled with gratitude and a touch of awe at the depths of my loyalty.

"Thank you for everything."

Stepping back, I demanded, "You idiot! Idiot! Don't you dare take on all the burdens anymore?" I hit him consecutively on his side with my paws. "And promise me you won't do anything stupid!"

Surprised by my boldness, he laughed heartily as he rubbed my head. "You really are demanding, Aki. I feel like sometimes, you forget that I'm older than you and should be treated with respect."

I immediately flashed my claws.

"Haha." He laughed nervously then nodded his head. "Ok. Ok. I promise."

"I'm not a cat!" I hissed, trying to get his hand off my head but when I saw the way he was smiling at me, I stopped trying.

He seemed to enjoy the gesture and if it made him feel better, I was willing to allow it.