Summary: Shisui's parents die and at first, Fugaku does nothing. (But guilt is acid and it shows Fugaku no mercy.)

For Uchiha week day 3

Prompt: Free day (can be of any theme)

Akemi's death is one that is swift.

Fugaku doesn't see it of course. He wasn't there. But he is told that he felt no pain. An explosion that took out many of their own troops and Akemi was one of them.

Fugaku is told this by a young shinobi who can't be older than 13, with the eyes of someone much older, that his brother is dead.

The shinobi, Genma, if he remembers correctly, hadn't cried, had barely looked fazed as if the blood and horror splashed across his uniform didn't exist. As if death is the same as watching flowers grow.

Fugaku doesn't cry when Genma informs him of the news. He doesn't cry when he tells Akemi's retired shinobi wife, Yoshino. He doesn't cry when he tells his own wife. He doesn't cry when Yoshino shoves Akemi's belongings into Fugaku's hands, tears pouring down her face like an avalanche. He doesn't cry as he looks into Shisui's eyes and tells him his father isn't coming home. Fugaku doesn't shed a single tear for Akemi Uchiha.

Instead, Fugaku does what he has always done, and he locks it way. He shuts the feeling down, pushes down the furthest corner of his mind.

The Third Shinobi war will not stop for his brother's death. The war will not stop for Fugaku's tears.

So Fugaku pulls the pieces back together and does his job.

Yoshino kills herself.

Yoshino was a shinobi. Yoshino knows where to strike, what will hurt and what kill instantly.

Shisui, her 6-year-old son, finds her body.

Shisui looks up at him as they remove the body from the house, and that's it. Another orphan. Shisui is 6 and he knows more about death than civilians with one foot in the grave would.

Shisui cries silent tears. There is no sobbing, no spluttering nonsense as hysteria claims logic. There is only still hands and quiet tears and no 6 year old should have to be that strong.

Fugaku throws up later when everyone is gone and he is alone. The bile burns his throat and leaves him gasping for breath.

It shouldn't affect him like this.

Death, Fugaku can handle, but the haunted, 1000 yard stare in children isn't something he thinks he can ever get used to.

Fugaku avoids things to deal with them and it makes Mikoto want to stab him and he can't blame her.

But he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know how else to handle it.

He doesn't visit his nephew and he tells himself it's because of the war. He tells himself that once the fighting's over, he'll visit him.

(But Fugaku tells himself a lot of things, and it only serves to make him hate himself all the more.)

Fugaku has been awake for an obscene amount of time and seen one too many people have their internal organs splayed across the ground to be okay when he finds himself at the doorstep of Akemi and Yoshino's house.

He stops at the door, blinking hard but the fog in his head doesn't clear.

He should have been here months ago. He should have been helping Shisui piece together his life that's turned to shambles in his tiny hands.

He should have been here, even just to make sure the kid wasn't fucking dead.

But he didn't.

Akemi would skin him alive for this.

The door creaks open and Fugaku jerks from his spiralling thoughts. He stares down at Shisui's wide eyes and wants to punch himself in the face. Repeatedly. Shisui is 6. Fugaku is the adult and he needs to start acting like one.

"I've come to pick you up," Fugaku says, and surprises himself.

Shisui nods and looks down at his shoes. "For how long sir?" he asks. Fugaku searches the words to find something, whether it be fear, or anger, or delight, anything. But Shisui's words are flat.

"As long as you want," he says. He hates the doubtful, confused look Shisui gives him. A silent question of why would you do that? What do you want?

"A mission?" he asks, like that's the only feasible reason why Fugaku would want to see him.

"No, no…" he trails off and rubs at his eyes because he should have done this months ago. Instead, Fugaku ignored him in order to try and cope.

"You shouldn't have to stay here alone. There's plenty of room at our house. And that way you can be with Itachi as well." Each time Shisui has been around Itachi, he's cared for him with the patience and maturity as though he was the parent. He seemed to enjoy it at the very least.

Shisui opens the door more so Fugaku can see inside, giving him a final, confused look before he disappears around a corner presumably to gather his belongings.

Fugaku steps inside and expects many things. He expects the house to have fallen away in care, dirty dishes on the sink, dust over the furniture, musty smells of a house begging to be cleaned.

Instead, Fugaku finds no dust, no dirty dishes piled at the sink aside from one solitary cup and spoon. There is food on the stove, cooking away. He stands there, in the entry of the house frozen at the sight and he knows theoretically that this is normal.

War breeds adults in children's bodies, old souls trapped in young faces. As clan head, Fugaku has managed to escape this reality slightly. But the facts stare him right in the face here. Fugaku decides he hates war.

Shisui emerges from the other part of the house a little while later, a duffle bag clutched tightly in his hands and he sends Fugaku a tiny, hopeful smile. He wonders over to the stove, turning it off and moving the contents to a container.

"You don't need to worry about feeding me, sir," he says, lifting the container up as a way of explanation.

Fugaku sighs and it's obviously the wrong thing to do the second he does it because that little slither of hopefulness is wiped from Shisui's face. This boy lost his father, lost his mother, has been thrown into missions to strengthen the war effort and no one, no one, has given this boy time to grieve, time to cope. No one has batted an eye at him.

Fugaku hates war, and he hates himself for not doing something earlier.

"It's fine," Fugaku says. He's exhausted, and the words he wants to say won't come but he barrels forward anyway. "It' not a problem, feeding another mouth."

Shisui blinks at him, bewildered. "Oh," he says, as though none of this makes sense.

Shisui gives him wide-eyed looks when he offers to carry his duffle bag and disbelieving stares once they reach the house that Shisui can 'just relax'.

Fugaku is used to war. He's used to the death, used to the violence and the screams and the horror of it all.

But he looks at Shisui, and he can't find the child. He can only see a soldier.

Fugaku has never really hated war before, but he's sure he hates it now.

Of course, this decision was one founded upon impulsivity and guilt that Fugaku should have been a better uncle.

But Shisui doesn't ever move out of their house, and Fugaku learns to listen to another's opinion. Shisui provides Fugaku with a backboard, something to lean on, something to keep him grounded.

Shisui is his bases in humanity.

Fugaku plans the coup, but as he sits in his office, scribbling over notes, he knows that Shisui will kill himself and Fugaku before he would let a civil war break out.

It doesn't make Fugaku any less angry, any less frustrated that the Uchiha have been treated like they have.

But Shisui has had every reason to fight back, every reason to stand up and say no, and yet he hasn't. Shisui has ploughed down every avenue to aim for a peaceful path.

To stage a coup, would be the greatest insult to Shisui. It would be Fugaku saying the words I don't trust you, I don't believe in you, I don't love you. Everything you've worked for has been for nothing.

It would be to stab Shisui in the back. It would be telling him that we can never end the fighting and we can never find peace.

Fugaku thinks of Shisui, thinks of his easy smiles, kind words and gentle hands when most other shinobi wouldn't even try to be as human as him and he doesn't want to see that crushed.

If anyone can bring peace, Fugaku is sure Shisui can do it.

Fugaku burns the notes, stretches, and catches Shisui's shoulder as he walks past. Fugaku hates war, but he never thought to learn an alternative, luckily he's sure his son will help him.