Genres: Friendship – Family – Slice of Life / One-shot

Rating: +8

Summary: Grandma was ill. Obito had been given a mission!

Enjoy!

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The market stalls were quite high up for a seven-year-old. He could just about make out the fruit and vegetables, but he had to rely on the help of adults to get what he wanted, whilst feeling as though he was being a bother and not getting exactly what he wanted.

His basket was getting heavier and heavier, hanging at the end of his arm, but he carried on trudging along, come what may.

His list still had items he hadn’t found yet; it was too early to go home!

But the thing was, his feet were aching, it was hot, and he still couldn’t find the rest of what he needed.

He really fancied having a cry.

However, he couldn’t. No. Because he was a shinobi. Better still! He was a shinobi on a mission!

“Hey, kid, are you lost?”

Amidst all these people – merchants, civilians, other shinobi, children – an adult had stopped beside him and bent down to speak to him.

He usually hated that. Nevertheless, this stranger didn’t seem to be doing it to make fun of him. He had a smile that made you want to trust him.

“N… No!” he managed to reply, flustered.

Suddenly, from behind the man, a child smaller than him appeared, his nose buried in a green scarf with geometric patterns. He had long silver hair, but apart from the colour, it looked just like the adult’s.

Perhaps his son? He didn’t look that old, despite his white hair… And he was clearly a shinobi, too!

And Grandma always says you can trust shinobi, doesn’t she? That’s actually why he’d applied to join the Academy last year!

Nevertheless, as he was thinking, his shopping definitely became too heavy for him and the basket fell to the ground, spilling its contents into the dust, much to his growing despair.

A sob escaped him, despite himself, so he quickly bit down on his lower lip to stifle it.

Meanwhile, the kind mister and his son had started picking up the fruit and vegetables, wiping off the dirt and sorting out the damaged ones, putting them back into the basket.

“That’s a very heavy load for a little boy,” remarked the adult. “Do you live far away?”

He gestured towards the Uchiha neighbourhood and tried to pick up his belongings with his other hand.

“But I haven’t found everything yet…”

He glanced at the few pieces of fruit that hadn’t survived the fall, his eyes beginning to sting.

“And I’ll have to replace them…”

It was getting harder and harder to hold back his tears, but he held firm, trying to hide his sniffles as best he could.

He suddenly looked up when a large hand suddenly pressed against his head, ruffling his black hair just as Grandma did when she was pleased with him.

Except it wasn’t Grandma, but a man he didn’t know. That was strange, wasn’t it?

“We’ll help you, won’t we, Kakashi?”

The little boy next to him nodded vigorously, his tiny fists clenched against his chest.

“But I don’t have any money…”

Shinobi took on missions for money, didn’t they? However, Grandma had given him just enough for groceries… And it was a very bad idea to deceive shinobi!

“Let’s focus on your shopping first, shall we? Do you have a list?”

He handed him the piece of paper covered in his tutor’s elegant handwriting, listing what he hadn’t found yet.

The stranger checked with him how much money he had left, then slung the basket over his shoulder before holding out his hand:

“Shall we go?”

As he stared at that open hand held out towards him, his son seemed to climb onto his shoulder, sitting there as if it were second nature, for neither of them reacted.

Summoning all his courage, he imitated the man, slipping his small hand into the other’s, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, trying not to let despair get the better of him.

Shinobi are nicer than the police, aren’t they?

“My name is Sakumo, and this is my son, Kakashi,” the man continued. “And you?”

“Uchiha Obito!” he replied in as clear a voice as he could manage.

“Pleased to meet you, Obito. Do you come to the market often?”

“No, usually it’s Grandma, but she’s ill.”

They made their way through the market stalls, the little boy craning his neck to try and spot the missing items on his list.

When he spotted the melons, he stretched out his arm towards them, ready to lead Sakumo over to them, but Sakumo shook his head.

“No, they’re too expensive. The seller’s known for overcharging; let’s go over there instead.”

Was that even possible?

Suddenly alarmed by this possibility, Obito followed him without thinking, lost in his own thoughts.

If one of the market sellers was ripping people off, and everyone knew it, why was he still there? Wasn’t it the police’s job to arrest him?

But, above all, if he was doing it, hadn’t he, through his purchases, been the target of other equally unscrupulous traders?

Grandma was going to be so disappointed in him…

“Look, right there—cheaper and much better! What do you thi– Obito?”

He’d held his ground until then, but that last thought had shattered all his efforts, tears streaming as if released from a dam. Before long, he found himself unable to respond coherently, choked by his sobs, which he wiped away furiously with his dirty hands.

He suddenly felt as though he’d been lifted up, though his blurred vision prevented him from seeing properly and his sobs stopped him from asking any questions.

He found himself sitting on something made of wood as he began to sniffle rather ungracefully. A pleasant smell seemed to linger here, quite different from the odours he’d encountered so far, suggesting they’d moved away from the market. Not too far, mind you, but far enough for those smells to fade into the background.

“Here, have a drink of water; you must be quite dehydrated.”

Grabbing the cup held out to him, he drained it in a few gulps, realising that Sakumo was indeed right, although he hadn’t realised it before.

But that was just how adults were. They were telepaths who always knew when children were thirsty or hungry! Grandma was just the same!

When he’d finished drinking, a soft cloth wiped his eyes, then cleaned his face and finally his hands.

“Feeling any better?”

When he’d spoken to him, he’d already found his voice soft, but Obito was discovering that it could be even softer still.

Timidly, he nodded, staring at his knees. He’d always been prone to tears and had been called a crybaby by practically the whole clan and his class now. To have made such a spectacle of himself in front of someone he didn’t know…

But instead of mocking him as everyone else did, Sakumo surprised him by stroking his head once more, and even more so by offering him a skewer of dango—all without forcing him to look at him again, merely placing it within his field of vision and waiting for him to take it.

When Obito closed his little hand around the wooden skewer, he bravely lifted his head, still sniffling and a little frightened of the expression he was about to see.

Yet he looked neither mocking nor angry, merely smiling at him as he had been doing ever since he’d called out to him.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispered.

“I hope you like sugar! Unfortunately, Kakashi hates it.”

Kakashi himself seemed delighted with his cup of tea, sipping it with all the concentration of a child his age, practically peering intently at it.

Looking around, Obito recognised the place. They were indeed still at the market, but far from the previous stalls, surrounded by stalls selling ready-made food. It was a little too early for dinner, and the sweet treats were attracting the most customers.

In fact, they were sitting at one of the stalls, a little off to the side.

“It’s my favourite dessert,” confessed the future shinobi.

“What a coincidence! It’s mine too!”

The dango had always tasted good, but they seemed even better to him now.

Reassured by this break, Obito felt ready to resume his shopping, which he demonstrated by springing to his feet, looking determined.

Sakumo, however, didn’t seem to share his view, as he patted him on the shoulder:

“I’ll take care of the rest, all right? Stay here with my son in the meantime; I’ll be quick.”

“But…”

But it was his job to do it! It was him that Grandma had entrusted with the list and the wallet! How could he ever become a shinobi worthy of the name if he couldn’t even manage a mission as easy as this one?

Once again, Sakumo proved he was a grown-up, using his telepathy to read his mind and reassure him (in truth, Sakumo was used to guessing his cub’s thoughts, and Obito was particularly expressive. It was a piece of cake, not to mention his experience in the field).

“You know, asking for help and relying on others isn’t a sign of weakness. On the contrary, it’s very important to know how to trust others when you feel overwhelmed by a situation.”

Mouth agape and as if in a trance, the little boy watched him, stars in his eyes.

“Your grandmother must be starting to worry, isn’t she?”

He nodded, a slight pang of guilt welling up at the thought.

Poor Grandma, she who wasn’t feeling very well to begin with…

“Well then, it’ll be quicker if I sort it out. And in the meantime, keep an eye on Kakashi for me, all right?”

Unable to think of a way to refuse, and realising he was starting to feel tired, Obito climbed back onto his stool and nodded, looking serious.

It was a very important mission! He intended to carry it out with the utmost care! Sakumo could count on him!

In the end, it was the easiest babysitting job of his short life.

Within the clan, it was common to have to look after the younger ones, even if you were only two years older than them. And the little Uchihas were a bunch of indomitable fuchizaru, always seeking thrills in the hope of awakening the family’s dōjutsu, so it was an exhausting task that allowed for no rest.

Then there was Kakashi, who was content simply to sip his tea leisurely, hold out his cup for it to be refilled, and start all over again.

Obito had tried to talk to him, to find out a bit more about him, but to no avail. So he’d eventually given up, tilting the teapot whenever Kakashi signalled him to, and contented himself with observing his surroundings, eager to spot Sakumo in the crowd.

It wasn’t that Kakashi’s silence bothered or frightened him; it was simply that he was a little bored and couldn’t wait to get home to look after his grandmother.

When he spotted the tall figure standing out amongst the civilians, he sat up straight and leaned on the table, delighted.

“There you go, I’ve got everything! Did you need anything else or want to go anywhere else?”

He shook his head vigorously as the adult lowered the basket to his height, so that he could see the carefully wrapped and arranged provisions.

“And I see my little cub is still in one piece! Well done!”

Obito wasn’t expecting much—just to get his basket back and a few words of greeting. So he was surprised when, instead, Sakumo slipped the handle back over his shoulder, rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a few ryō, which he handed to him.

He took them, not quite understanding.

“All work deserves a wage!”

Realising it was for looking after Kakashi, he suddenly sat up straight, ready to refuse, but he didn’t have time.

Sakumo held out his hand to him again, his son jumping down from his stool.

“Come on, we’ll walk you home!”

Once more, they held hands, Kakashi perched on his father’s shoulder, as they left the crowded square behind and headed for the quieter streets as they walked further away.

“Do you live within the compounds?”

“No, outside.”

He guided them carefully through Konoha. Naturally, they didn’t go unnoticed, and it wasn’t long before the elderly women who were always stopping him spotted them. They soon found themselves surrounded.

“Obi-chan!” they called out to him. “You’ve gone shopping for your grandmother! What a lovely grandson!”

There were grumbles about their own offspring who would never do such a thing, and they chatted amongst themselves whilst pinching the little boy’s still-plump cheeks; he let them get on with it, used to it as he was.

“And you’re not alone!”

“Good morning, ladies,” the man in question greeted them politely.

This time, the comments centred on his politeness, as they swooned over this new face, then turned to the child sitting on his shoulders, cooing about just how cute he was.

It always took several long minutes to extricate himself from such situations, but not this time.

Sakumo must have been a truly great shinobi! He managed to extricate them from the situation without appearing rude, keeping a smile on his face the whole time as he guided them out of the crowd, and they could still hear the old ladies giggling, seemingly not offended by their departure.

He needed to learn that skill!

However, they soon arrived at the little cottage where Obito lived, signalling the end of their meeting.

The little boy began to think of a ploy to delay this inevitable moment, but he could think of nothing and soon found himself running out of time.

Then, as he stood in the genkan, his grandmother appeared, looking worried. Despite her fever, her face lit up when she saw him, and even more so when she saw who was with him.

Or was it just his imagination?

“Grandma!” he called out as he saw her.

He rushed towards her, hugging her awkwardly, driven as much by the joy of seeing her and the pride of having managed to gather everything she needed, as by the hope that she would understand his wish for Sakumo and Kakashi to stay a little longer and help him with it.

Meanwhile, Sakumo explained the situation, enquiring after the elder, which made her giggle behind her hand, before she invited father and son in, in line with her grandson’s plan.

But Sakumo had to refuse. He hadn’t done his own shopping yet, and now that Obito was home, he could go back, satisfied.

Obito felt as though his heart had sunk as he watched the adults exchange pleasantries, before the pair bid him farewell and left, the door closing behind them.

As his grandmother walked past him, she stopped and gently stroked his hair, amused.

“Not every grandson can boast of having the White Fang to do his shopping for him!”

She gave him an affectionate pinch on the cheek, then finally picked up the basket left on the floor and carried it off to the kitchen, long before the little boy could move again, taken aback.

What do you mean, the White Fang?

“Grandma?!”