“Click.” “Bang!” The sounds of a door opening and closing rang out one after another.
Tōru returned home and instinctively glanced at the shoe rack beside the entrance.
All five pairs of slippers were still there.
That meant no one else was home.
[Perfect.] [No one will interrupt me while I’m cooking.] The memory of the last time he had come home late made him slightly irritated.
Itachi had tried to fry eggs for Sasuke by himself and somehow managed to spread egg all over the kitchen.
However, when Tōru saw that Itachi was even more furious about his failed eggs than Tōru himself, and that another dot had mysteriously appeared in his left eye, Tōru decided not to say anything.
From that day onward, he simply never wanted to see his elder brother in the kitchen again.
As for the meals his mother prepared…
Well, they tasted fine, but they weren’t as good as his.
Sasuke had already grown accustomed to Tōru’s cooking and didn’t particularly like having his usual flavors changed.
Naturally, that sometimes left Mikoto feeling a little dejected.
All things considered, the Uchiha family’s kitchen was best left to Uchiha Tōru alone.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan.
“Is that Tōru?” A clear, pleasant voice came from the kitchen.
Tōru’s eyes narrowed.
A faint red glow suddenly appeared within his normally deep-blue irises.
Uchiha Mikoto stepped out of the kitchen wearing cleaning shoe covers and carrying a mop.
She smiled brightly at her youngest son.
“Mommy came home early today.
Aren’t you happy to see me?” Ever since Tōru had taken over all the household chores and Fugaku had failed to convince him otherwise, Mikoto, who suddenly found herself with far too much free time, had returned to teaching students who had graduated from the Ninja Academy.
Since today was the birthday of her two youngest sons, however, she had given her students the day off and returned home early.
She had even taken the opportunity to clean the house herself for the first time in a while.
Seeing that her mother wasn’t holding any cooking utensils and was merely cleaning, the red glow in Tōru’s eyes gradually faded.
He looked at the floor, which had not yet completely dried.
After thinking for a moment, he turned around and reached for the door.
He would wait outside until the floor dried.
Mikoto appeared between Tōru and the door in an instant.
She planted her hands on her hips, puffed out her cheeks, and deliberately put on an angry expression.
In reality, she was imitating an old red-haired classmate of hers.
“What?
You’re not even going to greet your mother when you see her?
You’re going to hurt my feelings, you know.” Uchiha Mikoto had three sons, each with a completely different personality.
Naturally, she had to use different methods to deal with each of them.
Her eldest, Itachi Uchiha, was mature and thoughtful beyond his years.
If she treated him like an adult, he would speak openly with her.
Probably.
Maybe.
Her second son, Sasuke Uchiha, had been spoiled by his brothers, yet desperately yearned for his father’s approval.
Whenever Fugaku’s or Itachi’s expectations of him came up, he would temporarily set aside his childish mischief and listen seriously.
Then there was her third son, Uchiha Tōru.
He was by far the most difficult.
Once, in an attempt to force Tōru to initiate conversations with other people, Fugaku had proposed that the entire family stop speaking to him for a week.
They would see who broke first.
Naturally, Tōru won.
The result was that the husband and wife were left completely bewildered.
Was Tōru childish?
Not really.
He often wore an expression that seemed to say, I’ve already seen through everything.
There’s nothing worth caring about.
He could calmly deal with provocations from children his own age and even criticism from Fugaku without the slightest change in expression.
He didn’t crave praise from others, nor did he seek his parents’ attention.
Instead, he silently took responsibility for Itachi and Sasuke’s food, clothing, and daily needs.
When he remained silent, he sometimes seemed more like the eldest son of the family than Itachi himself.
But was he mature?
Not exactly.
He paid absolutely no attention to other people’s reactions.
From time to time, he would do something incredibly rude or bluntly voice whatever thought happened to be in his mind, with no regard for whether it hurt someone’s feelings.
For example, a few days ago, Sasuke and Itachi had been practicing the Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique.
After finally managing to produce a tiny flame, they ran over to Tōru to show off.
Considering how well Tōru usually treated Sasuke, nobody could have expected him to casually blurt out: “Are you learning this just to light candles?” Because of that, Sasuke hadn’t spoken to Tōru once since.
Of course, he still ate the food Tōru made.
Yet despite being a child who only spoke the truth, Mikoto still couldn’t understand what was going on inside his head.
If she wanted to communicate with this child, she had to adopt an exaggerated, intrusive approach and practically pester him until he responded.
He also seemed incapable of distinguishing subtle emotions.
Mikoto had to put on exaggerated displays of anger, sadness, and similar emotions before Tōru could understand how she felt.
Sure enough, seeing his mother blocking the doorway with what appeared to be an angry expression, Tōru stopped.
Then he opened his mouth in greeting.
“Did something go wrong at work today?” Uchiha Mikoto decided to surrender.
She crouched down, grabbed Tōru’s stiff little cheeks, and pulled them into a forced smile.
Looking somewhat depressed, she asked, “Doesn’t it make you happy when Mommy comes home?” “You come home every day.” Tōru tilted his head.
“Only seeing someone after a long time apart is worth being happy about.” Like when Tanjiro returned alive from a dangerous mission and Nezuko was safe as well.
Like returning to Mount Sagiri and seeing smoke rising from Sakonji Urokodaki’s hut in the distance.
Like when he had sensed that he was about to die, passed by the Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa’s house, and heard that man arguing with a neighbor over whether demons even existed in the world.
Knowing that everyone could lose their lives at any moment, yet seeing them survive anyway—that was something worth being happy about.
“I give up.” Uchiha Mikoto lowered her head.
It was an action she would never have done in front of Itachi or Sasuke.
She glanced at the ingredients in the plastic bags and, thankfully, didn’t seem particularly troubled by their price.
“Those things are so heavy.
Aren’t you tired from carrying them all the way home by yourself?” “I rested along the way.” Tōru was referring to the times he had put the bags down while encountering that blonde-haired boy, the young lady of the Hyuga clan, and Kakashi.
“Oh…
salmon.” Mikoto lifted the bag.
“Another ingredient I don’t know how to prepare.
Looks like I won’t be much help.” She carried the bag into the kitchen and casually asked, “So, what are you planning to make today, Tōru?” “Salmon roe sushi, bonito rice balls, sashimi, daikon and salmon stew, pan-fried salmon belly, and dango and ice cream for dessert…” “That sounds delicious already.
And those are all things Itachi and Sasuke love.” Mikoto turned around and jokingly asked, “Then why isn’t there anything your father likes?” “It’s not his birthday today.” Tōru answered with complete seriousness.
“Today’s dishes are mainly to appease Sasuke.
He hasn’t spoken to me for a week.” Before the final battle, Tanjiro had taught him that preparing someone’s favorite foods and feeding them to that person regularly was a good way to become closer.
For example, after Tōru started carrying ohagi around with him, his relationship with Sanemi Shinazugawa had improved considerably.
At least, that’s what Tōru believed.
Sasuke should be similar.
The two of them even had fairly similar personalities.
After hearing her son’s explanation, Mikoto opened her mouth, then closed it again.
[You really don’t have to put it that bluntly, do you?] She raised an eyebrow.
“Tōru, do you know why Sasuke isn’t talking to you?” “No.” [Of course.] “And that doesn’t bother you?
You don’t want to know why?” “No need.” Tōru tied on the little apron Itachi had made for him.
He stepped onto a small stool, pulled a salmon more than half a meter long out of the plastic bag, placed it in the sink, and punched it directly on the head.
He spoke with complete confidence.
“Once he eats this meal, the problem will definitely be resolved.” “Smack.” Uchiha Mikoto grabbed the doorframe.
Why was communicating with this child so difficult?!
Ten minutes later.
“We’re home!” ×2 “Is that Itachi and Sasuke?” Mikoto rushed toward the entrance like a traveler stranded on an icy mountain who had suddenly spotted a warm fireplace.
“Mom!” Sasuke kicked off his shoes and rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Mikoto’s waist.
He looked incredibly happy.
[If only I could somehow transfer half of Sasuke’s clinginess to Tōru…] “Did you give your subordinates the day off today?” Itachi stood at the entrance.
He neatly arranged Sasuke’s shoes and immediately understood why his mother was home.
“Because my adorable children have birthdays today.” Mikoto had regained her usual confidence as a mother.
She rubbed Sasuke’s spiky hair and asked, “Did you take Sasuke out for training?
Why is he covered in sweat?
And why does he smell like an animal…?” “We didn’t train today.” Sasuke’s voice was lively and high-pitched.
“Big Brother took me to the Cat Lady’s place.
He also gave me a birthday present.” He pulled a rusty shuriken from his pants pocket.
“Oh?
What’s that?” Mikoto examined the shuriken carefully.
It appeared to be a very old design, so she followed Sasuke’s lead.
“Granny Cat said it’s a shuriken from the era when Konoha was first founded.
It’s even older than Grandpa!
She said she once saw this shuriken fly from a very long distance and destroy a Wood Clone of the First Hokage, so it’s really meaningful!” Sasuke held the shuriken high with both hands and proudly declared, “I’ll definitely become an even stronger shinobi in the future!
Even the First Hokage himself won’t be my opponent!” A trace of worry flashed through Mikoto’s eyes.
Itachi immediately noticed it.
He leaned toward Sasuke and quietly said, “The First Hokage founded the village together with the ancestor of the Uchiha clan.
They were both great people, not enemies.
Don’t say disrespectful things about the Hokage in public in the future, okay?” Mikoto nodded as well.
“Sasuke, listen to your brother.
Understand?” “I know.” Sasuke puffed out his cheeks unhappily, but still agreed.
Although what his brother and the other children in the clan said wasn’t always the same, Sasuke naturally chose to believe his brother.
After correcting Sasuke’s misunderstanding, Itachi looked toward the kitchen.
“Is Tōru cooking today as well?
It’s his birthday, so maybe I should—” “Bang!” A tremendous crash came from the kitchen, making Sasuke nearly jump.
“Did something happen, Tōru?” Mikoto asked.
“The kitchen knife fell on the floor.” Tōru’s voice sounded completely calm.
“Be careful.” Although Tōru had been cooking for two years, Mikoto was still somewhat worried about him.
After all, filleting salmon was troublesome, and even professional chefs could accidentally cut themselves.
She glanced at Sasuke, who had immediately put on a sour expression after hearing Tōru’s voice.
She smiled faintly.
“Sasuke, come take a bath with Mommy.” “No.” Sasuke immediately shook his head.
“I want to bathe with Big Brother.” Mikoto gave her eldest son a meaningful look, then nodded toward the kitchen.
Itachi immediately understood.
“Mom came home early especially because she wanted to do something for you two.” Itachi ruffled Sasuke’s hair and gently tapped his forehead with one finger.
“You can’t make her sad.” He then added, “If Sasuke behaves, I can continue practicing the Great Fireball Technique with you tomorrow…” “Then it’s a promise!” Sasuke was so happy that he nearly jumped.
He turned toward his mother.
“I’ll go take off my dirty clothes first!” With that, he excitedly ran upstairs.
When he passed the kitchen, he deliberately gave a loud “Hmph!” When Tōru didn’t even turn his head to look at him, Sasuke ran even faster.
“I’m leaving Tōru to you.” Mikoto mouthed the words to Itachi before heading to the bathroom to run the water.
Itachi stood at the kitchen entrance for a while.
He seemed to be gathering his courage.
The instant he stepped into the kitchen, Uchiha Tōru turned around with a knife in his hand and casually tossed the salmon bones he had removed into an iron basin.
Clang-clatter-clatter.
“What are you doing?” There was a hint of wariness in Tōru’s voice.
[He’s not going to help me cook, is he?] The frying pan Itachi had used for the eggs last time had already been retired.
Tōru had taken it outside and turned it into a milk dish for stray cats.
“Happy birthday, Tōru.” Itachi walked straight over.
Unlike Mikoto and Shisui, his smile was not particularly obvious.
It was merely a faint curve at the corners of his lips.
“Sasuke really liked the present I gave him.
I wasn’t sure how you would react when you received yours, so I was a little nervous.” He wasn’t lying.
Although he had raised both children himself, Itachi had never been able to completely understand Tōru.
For example, Itachi knew Sasuke’s likes and dislikes like the back of his hand.
But Tōru was like a bottomless lake.
Everyone assumed that housework was Tōru’s hobby.
Itachi, however, didn’t think that was the case.
It seemed more like something Tōru forced himself to do as an obligation.
Otherwise, there was no reason for him to be so meticulous or to do it every single day.
There were many other strange things about Tōru.
For example, about a month ago, Itachi had accompanied him to buy groceries.
When they passed a weapons shop, a Konoha shinobi named Hayate Gekkō was selecting a sword.
The sound of him drawing his blade caught Tōru’s attention.
When Hayate coated the blade in chakra and caused it to change color, Itachi could never forget the expression that appeared on Tōru’s face.
A light brighter than the blade itself flashed in his eyes.
His entire face transformed from stern to tranquil and gentle.
It was as though a lifeless lake had suddenly rippled beneath a warm breeze.
To this day, Itachi still couldn’t understand what had happened.
Originally, he had planned to simply buy Tōru a sword today.
But after thinking about it, he decided against it.
After all, Tōru had little interest in becoming a shinobi.
Itachi shook his head lightly, pushing his doubts aside.
Then he took an eight-centimeter-square picture frame from his pocket and handed it to Tōru.
Tōru’s eyes fell upon it.
His gaze immediately stopped.
He couldn’t look away.
“This is a specimen of an ancient swallowtail butterfly.” Itachi wasn’t sure how Tōru was feeling, so he explained slowly.
“A scholar from the Land of Snow discovered it deep inside the frozen layers of a snowfield.
They used Ice Release to extract it.” “I’m not very familiar with butterflies, but the Aburame clan shinobi who sold it to me said that this blue-and-purple swallowtail butterfly was extremely rare.” “It was beautiful when viewed under sunlight, but it also possessed enough poison to kill an elephant.” “Unfortunately, the species is already extinct.” “You…” Uchiha Tōru put down his knife and wiped his hands on his apron.
Only then did he hesitantly accept the specimen.
His deep blue eyes rippled with emotion.
In his eyes, it wasn’t merely a butterfly.
It was nine overlapping figures.
“How did you know to give me this?” It was the gift Tōru had least expected.
“Because the only things I know for certain you’ll like are wisteria flowers and butterflies.” The young Itachi smiled shyly.
“Whenever you see a wisteria tree and notice butterflies chasing each other around it, I love seeing the expression on your face.” “It makes you look as though a stone statue has suddenly come to life.” “If Father and Mother could see it, I think they’d feel the same way.” “So, Tōru…” Itachi paused.
He asked with a trace of anticipation, “Do you like the present?” Tōru’s reactions had always been impossible for him to predict.
What Itachi feared most was that Tōru would do what he had done the previous year.
He might take the same high-quality steel kunai that Itachi had given Sasuke and stuff it back into his hands before saying, “I’m different from Sasuke.” For an unabashed brother-con like Itachi, that would be a nightmare.
“An extinct butterfly?” Tōru’s voice sounded slightly hoarse.
Then it suddenly became stronger and clearer than at any other time he had spoken.
“I really like it.
Thank you, Itachi.” “…” Uchiha Itachi froze.
Tōru rarely changed his expression.
But if he liked the gift, shouldn’t he at least raise his eyebrows?
Why did he look as though all the strength had suddenly been drained from his body?
He seemed even more depressed than usual, as though he had remembered something terrible.
If Itachi hadn’t known for certain that Tōru never lied, he might have thought his little brother was merely claiming to like the gift to comfort him.
Tōru placed the specimen on the windowsill directly opposite his position in the kitchen.
Then, as though Itachi weren’t there, he lowered his head and silently resumed preparing the ingredients.
His thoughts, however, had already drifted somewhere far away.
Itachi instinctively knew that this wasn’t the right time to speak.
But he was still worried about Tōru’s condition.
So he took a daikon from the plastic bag and began slicing it.
The two worked silently in the kitchen.
Neither said another word.
Yet every ingredient was steadily transformed into food.
Fortunately, Itachi wasn’t focused on cooking this time, so he didn’t cause any disasters.
Exactly one hour later, Tōru arranged the daikon and pan-fried salmon neatly inside a stew pot and turned on the gas stove.
Then an unfamiliar voice appeared inside his mind.
[One hour of close contact with Uchiha Itachi.
Flame Breathing analysis progress +0.02%.
Current analysis progress: 20.02%.] [Once the analysis is complete and your Flame Breathing reaches the Constant Total Concentration level, Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku can be resurrected.] Tōru’s eyes suddenly widened.
A violent red light flashed within them, catching Itachi’s attention.
“Tōru, you—” Before Itachi could finish speaking, a long stream of white vapor suddenly escaped from Tōru’s nose and mouth.
The legs of the stool beneath him snapped with a sharp crack.
Tōru toppled forward and collapsed onto the floor.
He fainted on the spot.