zokucho

[zokucho]

itachi realising his mother is also a person with thoughts and feelings of her own is what got me ngl.

are people... mayhaps... still active here...

[zokucho]

are people... mayhaps... still active here...

[zokucho]

TEMPORARY PINNED. this is a mutuals only roleplay blog for uchiha mikoto from naruto, written by m (she/her, 22) and in the process of revamping. canon compliant with headcanons to fill in gaps.

minors do not interact! topics such as child abuse, genocide, death, mutilation, incest, etc may be featured (and tagged appropriately). dead dove, do not eat.

[zokucho]

Penny Dreadful Sentences, Condensed

(Sentences from Penny Dreadful (2014-2016). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"A wise man would walk away from this house and make a concerted effort to forget everything that occurred last night."

"There is only one worthy goal for scientific exploration: piercing the tissue that separates life from death."

"Join me. With me, you will behold terrible wonders."

"We cannot unmake the past. We shall live with our guilt, you and I."

"You're hunting for a man, but you need to start hunting for a beast."

"As you grow up, you'll learn we all do things which cause us shame.

"If one is to engage with the primordial forces of darkness, one must expect a bit of social awkwardness."

"When the poets write of death, it's invariably serene. I wonder if that's what it is really."

"We've all done things to survive. There are such sins on my back it would kill me to turn around."

"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Just run away from your life?"

"Do not weep. It brings no solace."

"When you asked for my company this afternoon, I did not expect this."

"You never change - except, of course, in every way that matters."

"You think you're going to be a hero? You are not. None of us are."

"This is worse than I knew it was going to be."

"Don't think I can't look into your wretched black heart and see the machinations laid bare!"

"All sad people like poetry."

"Do you think I don't understand what it is to be different?"

"Do you ever think what it would be like to be like other people? Normal people?"

"You'll never get your soul back. Not ever. Do you understand that?"

"True evil is, above all things, seductive."

"Do your ambitions not exceed this?"

"I've tasted success, and it's a meal I now wish to devour."

"How many scattered corpses will you leave in your bloody wake before your life has run its course?"

"You offer me a normal life. Why do you think I want that anymore?"

"You can't die until you've served your purpose."

"I'm not the man you knew. There's blood on my teeth, and in my soul, I think."

"Before you speak another word, I ask you to consider this: how valuable is your life?"

"I want to liberate your truest self: the beast that prowls around your heart."

"In this mortal world, you'll always be shunned for your uniqueness - but not with me."

"You have no sense of the terrors I will bring onto you."

"I've suffered long and hard to be who I am. I want my scars to show."

"If we're to continue, you must know how dangerous this is. How dangerous I am."

"I love you for who you are, not who the world wants you to be."

"The sun shall never shine so bright for me now I have walked in darkness. I cannot be the man I was."

"You think you're bold? You think you know sin? You're still learning the language. I wrote the bloody book!"

"I am, as you know, no stranger to killing."

"I don't want to make you good. I don't want you to be normal. I don't want you to be anything but who you truly are."

"You have tried for so long to be who everyone wants you to be - who you thought you ought to be. Why not be who you are instead?"

"It is too easy being a monster. Better to try to be human."

"Do you not yet comprehend the wicked secret of the immortal?"

[zokucho]

Coughs.

[zokucho]

adds  this...  the  fact  that  even  here,  she  still  sits  behind  fugaku  and  says  not  a  single  word  for  the  entirety  of  their  argument.  from  the  way  she  looks  at  him,  it’s  clear  that  she  disagrees  with  him  ———  hence  why  she  stays  silent.  she  can’t  undermine  him  in  front  of  his  own  son.

however...  in  the  novels,  itachi’s  wellbeing  being  threatened  is  the  only  time  she’s  spoken  against  fugaku.  in  itachi’s  depressive  period  after  his  teammate’s  death,  she  insists  upon  his  right  to  a  childhood  and  asks  for  fugaku  to  take  itachi  into  the  kmpf,  for  his  safety  and  his  happiness...

thinking  about  mikoto’s  behaviours  as  a  wife…  she  would  always  plate  fugaku’s  meal  first,  even  when  he  was  not  home,  and  herself  last.  she  would  greet  fugaku  at  the  door,  sitting  seiza  as  was  most  respectful,  and  would  take  his  things.  she  always  waited  for  fugaku  to  speak  first  at  meetings,  so  that  she  would  know  whether  or  not  to  stay  quiet;  she  would  never  disagree  with  him  publicly,  in  fear  of  making  him  look  weak  in  front  of  the  clan.

[zokucho]

uchihaprodigy·:

“But still…” He looks to his mother for guidance, dark eyes searching for subtle shifts and nuances in her expression. There’s an ocean, vast and endless behind her eyes and in this moment it’s calm, content. The swift adjustments made to his posture seems satisfactory and Itachi’s little heart swells with pride.

He is free flowing liquid, ready and willing to fit the molds shaped by the rules of society and clan etiquette. Moldable, impressionable still, until the cap of his vessel is one day sealed shut. Until then, there is space for him to meander, to learn within the channels carved out by his parents. 

The next piece of fruit he selects is a strawberry, and his face scrunches for a split second as the juices burst on his tongue. It’s sour. But the expression is fleeting; quickly smoothed out, edges tucked back in, as it should be. 

“I suppose…” He takes some time to pick his words, reluctant to let his thoughts run lest his sentences end up polluted with ums and ers. “I suppose we can have a celebration.” If his parents and jōnin and Shisui all attend birthday celebrations, then it must be the right choice to make, despite his personal preference. “Can we invite Shisui?” Fingers, small and sticky sweet, push other fruit aside to find another piece of mango. “And maybe Izumi too.”

❝    Of  course  you  can.  I  have  already  discussed  it  with  Father...  He’s  fine  with  any  number  of  guests,  as  long  it’s  reasonable.  Shisui  and  Izumi  are  very  welcome.    ❞      There  was  little  either  family  head  was  unprepared  for,  especially  when  it  came  to  Itachi.  This  day  had  been  discussed  in  advance  almost  half  a  year  ago,  allowances  for  possible  promotions  in  the  meantime  considered  and  planned  for.  His  development,  his  pleasures,  his  childhood...  Those  were  one  of  the  few  things  Mikoto  found  the  courage  to  insist  upon,  even  if  it  meant  the  artful  sewing  of  less  sentimental  justifications  into  her  and  Fugaku’s  discussions.  A  reminder  of  the  Heir  Apparent’s  presence  and  close  coming-of-age,  she  had  said;  a  display  to  the  clan  that  we  remember  our  customs.

❝    Oh,  Itachi...  I  bet  your  cheeks  taste  even  sweeter  than  those  fruit..!    ❞      Empyrean  features  melt  into  a  small  laugh,  a  faltering  of  her  otherwise  well-prescribed  persona.  Maturity  refined  his  manners,  but  he  was  still  a  child,  a  child  she  had  borne  and  cared  for  when  he  needed  love  to  survive.  Fugaku’s  son,  the  Uchiha  Prince,  the  Konohagakure  Prodigy;  but  still  her  little  boy.  She  would  not  fall  to  the  distorted  madness  of  the  poems  and  epics  and  plays;  her  Itachi  would  never  be  anything  but  her  Itachi.  Medea’s  touch  would  not  befall  Mikoto.

❝    It’s  hard  to  believe  your  nameday  has  come  upon  us  so  soon...  To  me,  you  will  always  be  my  baby,  even  when  you’re  old  and  grey...    ❞      The  dark  of  winter  in  the  form  of  her  eyes,  warm  despite  it  all,  glance  down  at  the  boy.

❝    ...  I’m  sorry,  Itachi...  That  was  a  little  unbecoming  of  me.  Now  then...  How  would  you  like  to  send  those  invitations?  I  can  always  pick  up  some  paper  ones  this  week,  or...  Do  you  wish  to  go  ask  them  in  person?    ❞

[zokucho]

uchibito·:

          the  ground  was  hard    &    freezing        beneath  his  knees,    the  thin  fabric  of  his  pants  did  nothing  to  ward  off  either.    he  focused  on  it  now,    eyes  downcast.    that  was  easier  than  holding  eye  contact,    he  couldn’t  imagine  even  attempting.        “  thank  you,  ”        he  mumbled    &    did  not  really  mean  it.    there  was  no  doubt  that  she  was  telling  the  truth,    it  was  not  mikoto  he  questioned,    the  thought  didn’t  occur.    he  did  not  deserve  that  pity  was  taken  on  him.        “  i  will  tr  harder  next  time,    i  promise.    i  can  make  the  clan  proud,    i——    i  know  it.  ”        obito  absolutely  did  not  know  it.    he  hoped,    though.    had  to.

❝    Such  is  the  will  of  the  Uchiha  Clan...    ❞      There  it  was  :  the  litany  of  their  bloodlines.  Everything  for  the  collective,  prestige  over  the  personal.  No  sin,  no  suffering,  no  transgression  against  the  natural  laws  was  ever  too  much  if  it  came  beneath  the  great  fan  of  Susanoo-sama’s  wishes.  Mikoto  would  not  intervene  there.  It  was  only  just  that  Obito  strove  to  contribute  to  the  Clan;  he  was  young,  had  at  least  another  decade  to  ready  his  body  for  the  great  service,  but  nobody  in  their  family  would  deny  him  the  right  nor  obligation  to  earn  his  place  amongst  them.

❝    Stand,  Uchiha  Obito...  You  have  honoured  me  and  my  Lord  husband  enough  for  one  day...  I  believe  it  is  my  turn,  now.  The  clan  elders  have  told  me  everything  on  what  a  good  boy  you  are.    ❞      A  gentle  hand  ‘pon  his  shoulder,  unspoken  urging  of  him  to  face  her.        ❝    Are  you  busy  for  the  rest  of  the  evening?  I  would  like  to  speak  more  with  you...    ❞

[zokucho]

hissins·:

                                    A small bead of sweat accumulated on the boy’s cheek as he averted his gaze from his mother’s , slightly embarrassed .  Did she not think of him as capable of handling his own ? Small , tiny cheeks puffed out in a slight pout before he winced in pain . Maybe…he shouldn’t have done that action .  His mother’s actions in taking care of his minor injuries made his softly grin . The tender love and care that was being put into it , he could definitely feel . Earlier doubts were blowing away like smoke . ❝ Thanks Kaa-chan! I’ll try my best not to .❞

                           Her question seemed to take him aback . The sheepish look suddenly returning back on his face , brows furrowing . The youngest child was always said to be the most impatient or so they say . ❝ Nii-sama and tou-san were busy today so…I decided to do it by myself . Not like father would have stayed long enough to watch anyway… ❞ an aching heart , a downcast look . Sasuke had ingrained it within his mind to make his father notice him , to make him proud of what he was accomplishing so far .

❝    Your  father  would  be  happy  to  hear  you’re  working  so  hard...    ❞

She  bites  down  the  usual  excuses  :  Itachi  is  a  full  fledged  shinobi  now,  he  can’t  control  his  time,  Fugaku  is  the  Clan’s  father  as  well  as  yours,  he  has  to  set  an  example  for  the  others...  What  did  those  things  matter  to  a  child?  Their  eyes  were  ones  were  unclouded  by  the  inner-worlds  of  adults;  all  they  saw  was  an  absence,  all  they  felt  was  an  absence.  A  young  heart  felt  new  wounds  all  the  greater  compared  to  a  scarred  one.

Mikoto  frowns  at  his  gaze,  a  subtle  pinching  of  her  ‘brows.  Soft  hands  (free  of  callouses,  of  any  marring;  a  testimony  to  her  own  skilled  care)  come  to  cup  Sasuke’s  face,  lifting  his  eyes  to  meet  her  own,  a  reflection  of  the  mother  in  the  son  and  the  son  in  the  mother,  creation  and  creator.  She  really  could  not  help  but  spoil  him  when  he  made  such  an  injured  image...  She  remembered  her  own  parents;  the  way  love  and  hatred  formed  a  kaleidoscopic  relationship,  the  way  she  would  have  done  anything  to  be  their  daughter,  not  just  a  name  in  their  dossier’s  [FAMILY:]  subsection.

❝    In  fact...  Father  has  assured  me  he’ll  be  home  by  dinnertime.  How  about  we  tell  him  then,  Sasuke?  He  can  watch  here,  in  the  garden...    ❞

[zokucho]

Rarely  was  Mikoto  downed  by  an  affliction  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  the  longest  nap  she  would  take  to  recuperate  in-between  chores.  As  a  matriarch,  she  was  meant  to  inspire  stability;  always  present  to  soothe  the  clan’s  worries  while  her  husband-head  worked,  always  a  shining  beacon  of  health  to  inspire  faith  in  the  clan’s  future.  As  a  mother,  she  was  to  earn  her  keep  in  the  home;  Fugaku  prone  to  draining  overtime,  Itachi  studious  and  ascending,  Sasuke  too  young  to  do  anything  but  live.  For  Mikoto,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  break.

(  Now...  If  only  my  body  would  understand  that.  )

❝    I’m  sorry,  Itachi...  I’ll  be  up  soon...  What  would  you  like  to  eat?    ❞

A  certain  nobility  pervaded  the  woman’s  actions,  even  as  sweat  made  itself  known  across  her  body.  She  strokes  @empyrcal​‘s  head,  shifting  within  her  futon.  A  good  boy;  a  boy  lost.  Mikoto  knew  she  only  had  so  much  time  before  a  prodigy’s  life  took  the  small  joy  of  making  breakfast  for  her  son;  she  did  not  wish  to  waste  what  little  childhood  the  village  would  allow  him,  what  he  would  allow  himself.

[zokucho]

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?    ❞

[zokucho]

the  random  smudges  of  blood  without  a  clear  cut  is  from  them  touching  the  other's  face,  byeeee.

[zokucho]

the  way  their  corpses  are  laid  out  from  their  original  position  (sitting  beside  each  other,  facing  the  same  direction)  implies  a)  mikoto  died  first  and  b)  it  was  neither  painless  nor  immediate  for  either  of  them.

[zokucho]

an  image  that  brings  me  endless  peace  is  the  uchiha  fam  resting  together

[zokucho]

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?    ❞

[zokucho]

Bear sculpture made from leftover rice straw in Japan.

[zokucho]

mikoto .