[log] In which Uchiha cousins acquaint themselves with one another
Who: Uchiha Itachi behindhiseyes, Uchiha Obito onebigwhen
Status: Complete. Apparently! So complete as to deserve wonky font!
Style: Prose
Where: Hisato; the house of Kakashi and Iruka.
When: Week 5, Day 1. Probably after the Kakashi and Kittensuke log.
Warnings: With these two? Who knows. THEY MIGHT COME TO VIOLENCE. No, not really. . . . Well, probably not really, at least. :D
Seeing is not a thing you are accustomed to learning to do.
Walking, you learn. Holding a weapon, you learn, even as you learn to walk. Slick spots on the hands; calluses, the hard end of the blade makes the palm stiffen around it.
Running. Throwing. Jumping. Stab, you learn, with the first letter of the alphabet, and by the time you are reading books, there is disembowel, and by the time you are ten, there is garrote. Interrogate. Blink the eye. Lock them in darkness. Killing, you learn and learn again. You can never finish learning that one. One never fully learns. Every new time is new. All blood is fresh. And all blood reminds you of the past. So you never stop learning.
Seeing. You have never had to learn to see. Things were there. Before your eyes. Silver and red. Pulsing with the glow of chakra. You could look more deeply. It was not even learning. It was too easy to be called learning. It was too instinctual. Things were there. People told you what to look at. People said you were special for seeing so much. Very special. Now look at this. Look. Look there.
Do not look there. Never over there. Do not see that. If you see that, if you think you see that, then you are mistaken. Look here. Look to what your life means. This is what it means. It means words you have also learned, like "dishonour." Words have no relevance if you understand the truth. See through the words. Learn not what to see but what not to see. Close your eyes. The world is silver and red again.
(The world had been a darkening mass.)
And this world forced your eyes open. They forced your eyes open. Filled you with medicine and told you to breathe and not to bleed. And now you will see. And now you will see. See what has become of your brother. See that you are here, in this enemy's house. See that you must live. Even though you had rather die without disgrace, see that life will be pushed into you, again.
So you are here, learning to see.
So you are at the enemy's table.
So you flick from your wrist the knife, which strikes the wall and splits (in one-fourth, three-fourths' lengths) the fly that had been buzzing near your head.
. . .
It should have split in even halves.
The wall shivers.
Listen. Vibrations.
Someone is beyond the door.
Someone's footsteps are on the porch.
(And if necessary -- your mind supplies -- the knife is on the wall, and you could flip for it, drag it out and cut through their throat.
Though if they are untrained, two fingers to the artery should be sufficient.
This is how strange footsteps to the porch are assessed.
You learned that when you began to walk, too.)
Status: Complete. Apparently! So complete as to deserve wonky font!
Style: Prose
Where: Hisato; the house of Kakashi and Iruka.
When: Week 5, Day 1. Probably after the Kakashi and Kittensuke log.
Warnings: With these two? Who knows. THEY MIGHT COME TO VIOLENCE. No, not really. . . . Well, probably not really, at least. :D
Seeing is not a thing you are accustomed to learning to do.
Walking, you learn. Holding a weapon, you learn, even as you learn to walk. Slick spots on the hands; calluses, the hard end of the blade makes the palm stiffen around it.
Running. Throwing. Jumping. Stab, you learn, with the first letter of the alphabet, and by the time you are reading books, there is disembowel, and by the time you are ten, there is garrote. Interrogate. Blink the eye. Lock them in darkness. Killing, you learn and learn again. You can never finish learning that one. One never fully learns. Every new time is new. All blood is fresh. And all blood reminds you of the past. So you never stop learning.
Seeing. You have never had to learn to see. Things were there. Before your eyes. Silver and red. Pulsing with the glow of chakra. You could look more deeply. It was not even learning. It was too easy to be called learning. It was too instinctual. Things were there. People told you what to look at. People said you were special for seeing so much. Very special. Now look at this. Look. Look there.
Do not look there. Never over there. Do not see that. If you see that, if you think you see that, then you are mistaken. Look here. Look to what your life means. This is what it means. It means words you have also learned, like "dishonour." Words have no relevance if you understand the truth. See through the words. Learn not what to see but what not to see. Close your eyes. The world is silver and red again.
(The world had been a darkening mass.)
And this world forced your eyes open. They forced your eyes open. Filled you with medicine and told you to breathe and not to bleed. And now you will see. And now you will see. See what has become of your brother. See that you are here, in this enemy's house. See that you must live. Even though you had rather die without disgrace, see that life will be pushed into you, again.
So you are here, learning to see.
So you are at the enemy's table.
So you flick from your wrist the knife, which strikes the wall and splits (in one-fourth, three-fourths' lengths) the fly that had been buzzing near your head.
. . .
It should have split in even halves.
The wall shivers.
Listen. Vibrations.
Someone is beyond the door.
Someone's footsteps are on the porch.
(And if necessary -- your mind supplies -- the knife is on the wall, and you could flip for it, drag it out and cut through their throat.
Though if they are untrained, two fingers to the artery should be sufficient.
This is how strange footsteps to the porch are assessed.
You learned that when you began to walk, too.)