Chapter 11: [Volume I] Acceptance (4)

Genma stays after Hokage's visit, and Renee is, actually, grateful for that. Tokujo's company keeps her at bay from dark thoughts that have tendency to cloud her mind when she's alone and has nothing better to do. Genma on the other hand is funny, charismatic, patient and simply the coolest person ever.

(Maybe aside of Kisame, Orochimaru and Kakashi, but two out of three are totally beyond her reach, and would basically kill her on sight, and Kakashi is an ANBU still. And chances of one of Leaf's best being assigned as moody Uchiha kid's babysitter are… Very unlikely. Besides, she knows that well, Kakashi hates children.)

Right now, they're in the very middle of a battle of life and death.

Genma clicks senbon against his teeth, singular drop of sweat rolling down his cheek, as he finally says; "E-10."

"Nothing," Renee says, her smile widening notably, and Genma gulps. "How about…" she trails the paper with pen. "How about J-9?"

Genma pales, and she knows that she's won.

"Sunk," tokujo says, his voice grim, and she offers him the sweetest smile, happily crossing his ship over on her paper. That makes fourth time her victory out of five matches they played. "Don't you have any other game?" he huffs, puffing his cheeks. Renee just shrugs.

"Other games I know are about physical exercise, which is rather, uhm," she motions her hand to her chest, "contraindicated."

"Where did you even learns words like this?" he asks, rising his brows, and Renee offers him toothy, sheepish smile.

"I'm an Uchiha, remember? The no-longer-existing clan of perfection-freaks?" she says, crossing her hands on her chest. "The type of people who counted perfection as barely passable?"

"Man, that sounds awful," Genma agrees, nodding.

"It was expected that you'd have your sharingan awakened, and preferably matured, before eighth birthday," she says. "If you didn't, you were called an idiot and a disgrace."

"Ouch," tokujo says, genuinely compassionate. "Now as I hear it, it was really an awful clan, wasn't it?"

"Clan maybe not awful," Renee corrects, "but it's people. If something's awful, know it's because people making it up are shit."

Genma makes face at her word choice, and she just shrugs. She was always quite a bit of a foul-mouth, after all. And by quite a bit she meant that she could just as well curse around the way that would make seasoned sailor jealous.

She was, after all, very quick to offend people with her sole attitude.

(Spoiler: She didn't care.)

"Okay…" Genma says, eyeing her, and then at paper he holds. "Anything else you'd like to do to spend your time?"

"I'd like to dance around like there's no tomorrow," Renee admitted truthfully. "But my pulse would rise, and risk of my heart not managing with it, so I'm waiting the healing out."

"Oh, you like dancing?"

"Yeah," she shrugs. "I like music overall, but I can't really sing. I mean, I don't sound like a choking chicken, or anything," pause for Genma to let out small chuckle, "but I'm by no means good. I can't hit them notes properly, but my feet can, so, I'm not complaining."

That gave her a matter to think about. She apparently couldn't speak, and even thing in English, magically having lost the ability (and the idea of secretly taking notes in English, so popular in fanfics she read, just died). What would her singing songs turn out? Would they even make sense in the first place?

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Well, that's a matter to try. Later. When there's no Genma she could embarrass herself to around. She didn't care about ANBU or nurses, let them be tormented by her falsifications in tunes.

"If I'm to be honest, dancing can be useful in taijutsu," Genma says, catching her attention. "Makes moves more fluid, more… Dancing," he chuckles, making Renee snort, "haven't tried myself, though, just seen it."

"Shame," Renee admits. "I'd like to see you dance. I'm sure you'd get the moves better than right."

"Oh you," tokujo waves his hand before his face, and then jabs is fingers at Renee's shoulder. "You little flattering brat."

She grinned at him widely. "At your service."

---

She was seven, when she activated her sharingan for the first time. She was seven, when she nearly drowned, trying to save a puppy that Fugaku threw into ice-cold water of the lake.

(You're not an Inuzuka, he said to her and the other girl she found the puppy with. The other girl was too frightened, but not her. She dove right in, muscles freezing right that instant, but she didn't, couldn't give up.)

She caught the dog and threw it out and onto the shore, but that was all the coolness of water allowed her.

Fugaku helped her out, but only because of red, she knew. Of eerie crimson swirling in her eyes, sharpening her vision. Of the eerie red she stared him down with it, even if he was twice her height.

(You're pathetic excuse of a man, she had told him then, and watched in satisfaction as his face twisted into rage and shock.

You're despicable, indeed.)

---

There's something, akin to sick satisfaction, knowing, that she talked back to the head of the clan. Ren, that is.

Renee would never be able to do it.

(She might be wrong. Her grandmother was, after all, much worse than Fugaku ever could. She refused to acknowledge it.)

---

She could have graduated early. Maybe even as early, as Itachi did. She was no match for his natural genius, but with certain amount of work she, surely, could be. But… Why bother? It was what Fugaku wanted. What elders wanted. Not what she wanted.

She never asked to be born into this cursed clan. She never asked to be cursed with its bloodline. She refused to do what was expected of her.

But all she could do was writing down her frustrations in her diary.

Diary. So many answers for your questions. Your identity.

Are you Ren, or are you Renee?

(There isn't always a choice, and yet, there always is.

Look underneath of the underneath.)

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