"Alas…" Makoto drew out the sound, its tail end spinning in the study, his fingertips still tapping lightly on the cover of 'Icha Icha Paradise'.
"Alright, you can rest ten thousand percent assured, leave this matter to me."
"If the Clan Head won't allow keeping a dog at home, then he should move out!"
Sasuke was just about to grin when Makoto's next words choked him, making him glare.
"Why were you avoiding me today?" Makoto leaned back against the chair back, the chair legs scraping a 'creak' on the tatami. "Did you do something embarrassing again and hid it from me?"
Hearing this, Sasuke's little face instantly turned into the color of a ripe apple, red from his cheeks to the roots of his ears, even his neck flushing red.
His knuckles clutching the dog's fur turned white. He hemmed and hawed for a long time, only managing to squeeze out a mosquito-like whisper, exactly like a little kitten whose throat was pinched.
"Did you wet the bed again? Or..." Makoto deliberately dragged out his words.
"I did not!" Sasuke's voice suddenly rose, interrupting what Makoto was about to say. He stiffened his neck, glaring at Makoto: "I stopped wetting the bed long ago! Last month was just an accident!"
"Then what was it? Do you want me to investigate myself? Then you'll be in for a world of trouble!" Makoto raised an eyebrow, looking at Sasuke's puffed-up appearance. He had to admit, Sasuke was indeed cute when he was little.
Sasuke's face was so red it seemed about to drip blood, but the discouragement in his eyes couldn't be hidden… he knew the embarrassing scene of being questioned into incoherence at yesterday's clan meeting would inevitably be found out by Makoto sooner or later, so he felt it's better to confess proactively...
"It's... it's that at the clan meeting yesterday, I was laughed at by the clansmen..." Sasuke's voice grew smaller and smaller, his head buried so low it almost touched Shiro's back, his hair rubbing against Shiro, making him whimper.
His eyes were full of discouragement. Compared to his two older brothers, he seemed far behind now...
Seeing this, Makoto ruffled his hair, his hand carrying the warmth of sun-dried clothes: "It's no big deal. In the future, you'll be stronger than all of them. Believe me!"
In the Uchiha Clan, which is full of mentally unstable individuals, Sasuke was indeed relatively normal… just a bit tsundere, likes to tough things out, talks tough but is soft inside, acts cool but is warm-hearted, loves to show off... that's all.
"Hmph, I don't need your approval!" Hearing this, Sasuke's eyes turned bright, like ignited sparks. His body unconsciously leaned a bit closer to Makoto.
"Alright, give Shiro to me." Makoto took the puppy with his left hand. The furry ball wriggled in his palm, carrying a faint milky scent.
He reached out and poked Sasuke's forehead heavily with his finger, leaving a clear red mark, like a newly bloomed cinnabar mole.
"I'm a bit busy. Go find Itachi to play." He imitated Itachi's classic move, even deliberately changing the line: "Forgive me, Sasuke, this is not the last time."
"Ow!" Sasuke covered his forehead, jumping back half a step in pain. He glared at Makoto, baring his teeth. Before leaving, he pulled out a bulging little cat-shaped coin purse from his pocket.
He poured all his pocket money onto Makoto's desk.
"I heard from Nii-san you really like money lately. This is all my money, I'll give it to you first."
Before the words finished, he had already dashed to the door, only leaving a muffled 'Don't waste it', his small black shadow running away with 'tap tap tap' sounds.
Makoto looked at the pile of pocket money, then glanced down at the puppy snoring in his arms, and suddenly laughed.
The evening glow outside the window dyed the study blood-red. On the cover of 'Icha Icha Paradise', the characters for 'Paradise' were heated by the glow...
…
Konoha's spring and summer were always like sand that couldn't be held, swept away by the autumn wind and buried in the soil with red leaves in the blink of an eye. Time passed quickly, and over half a year has gone by.
Cicada molts still hung swaying on the cherry blossom branches when morning dew condensed into fine ice crystals.
When the first snowflake, swirling, stuck to the sculpture of the Shodaime Hokage on the Hokage Rock, the entire Konoha village was already wrapped in a pure white velvet blanke.
The snow started falling at 5 AM. At first, it was like scattered salt, pinprick-sized powder snow rustling against the window paper with a light rustling sound. In the blink of an eye, it turned into heavy snow like goose feathers.
Clumps of it pounced onto eaves, treetops, and the courtyard walls of the Uchiha Clan's Clan Head's house. The blue-black roof tiles were bent under the weight, edged with a white border. Icicles on branches strung together like crystal curtains, tinkling when the wind blew.
The distant Hokage Rock was only a blurry outline, mostly swallowed by the snow filling the sky, more like an ink-wash painting that hadn't dried yet.
Makoto leaned casually against the vermilion pillar in his home, carrying an air of nonchalant laziness. The Shiro in his arms had grown quite a bit, its snow-white fur like fine snow, exactly like a breathing snowball.
Now over three years old, Makoto wore a pure white haori, the Uchiha Clan's fan emblem at the collar gleaming dark red in the snowlight.
Snowflakes landed on his shoulders, setting off his skin like freshly shelled lychee, exuding a warm jade-like luster.
Most noticeable were his eyes, the black pupils bright like obsidian soaked in snowmelt.
The outer corners of his eyes tilted up slightly, seeming to carry a hint of innate liveliness. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes curved into crescents, warmth spreading from their depths, clean like the sky after snow, warming to see.
His nose bridge was straight and delicate, his lip color a natural pink.
Despite his childish face, it held an indescribable handsomeness, as if the snowlight favored him especially, plating his hair tips with a silver edge. Even the snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes looked like pink diamonds.
In the Uchiha Clan filled with handsome men and beautiful women, Makoto's looks were also in a league of their own.
On the open ground not far away, Sasuke was squatting in the snow, busy.
His little face was flushed, the tip of his nose red from the cold. Puffs of white breath dispersed, forming fine frost on his eyelashes that rustled down when he blinked.
He held a large clump of snow, packing it onto a snowman when the snow block 'plopped' down, hitting his foot and splashing his trouser cuffs white.
"Foolish otouto!" Makoto's voice, wrapped in the wind and snow, was light as a feather.
Hearing this, Sasuke whipped his head around, his wide eyes startlingly bright in the snow, like hiding two sparks: "You're the foolish one! This is art!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Sasuke glimpsed the smile at the corner of Makoto's mouth and suddenly got an idea.
The winter sun just happened to leak through a gap in the clouds, dazzling on the snow. The Sunny Pillar felt capable again. He sneakily shrunk back a bit, clenched a snowball in the snow, suddenly stood on his toes and threw it at Makoto.
The snowball traced an arc, heading straight for Makoto's face.
"You want to dance too?" Makoto tilted his head slightly. The snowball flew past his hair tips, hitting the vermilion pillar and splashing it white.
As the words fell, the black pupils in Makoto's eyes suddenly took on a crimson hue. The Sharingan was especially conspicuous in the snowlight. When Sasuke threw the second snowball, Makoto caught it steadily with one hand.
Then he threw it back at Sasuke from a tricky angle. 'Thump', it hit the latter's little head squarely.
"Ah! You cheater!" Sasuke wiped the snow from his face, stomping his feet and shouting, his voice full of grievance and indignation: "How can you use Sharingan in a snowball fight? It's not fair!"
"You can use it too!" Makoto spread his hands, the Sharingan reflecting Sasuke's puffed-up state. "Why don't you? Is it because you don't want to?"
This sentence was like a spark lighting a fuse. Sasuke's face completely turned red, as if roasted by charcoal in the snow: "I hate you!"
He shouted while kneading another snowball but didn't dare throw it again, just glaring angrily at Makoto, his feet grinding a small pit in the snow, snow powder splashing onto his trousers.
"Alright, alright, since you're the little brother." Makoto waved his hand, his tone teasing: "Then I won't use Sharingan."
Before the words finished, Makoto casually formed hand seals, Chakra surging within him: "Shadow Clone Technique!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Several light sounds, three shadow clones identical to him emerged from the smoke, immediately starting to quickly bend down and knead snowballs, their movements in perfect unison.
"More people make it more fun." Makoto lifted his chin towards Sasuke. The three shadow clones immediately raised their snowballs and surrounded him, their feet crunching on the snow.
Makoto hadn't wasted these past months. Besides learning about the Shinobi World, mastering Flying Thunder God Technique, and refining Chakra, he had also learned many Ninjutsu.
Seeing this, Sasuke turned and ran, shouting as he ran: "You cheater! This is even worse than using Sharingan!"
He ran hastily, stumbling in the snow, nearly falling on his bottom. His hands caught him in the snow, getting covered in white.
Looking back, he saw Makoto's shadow clones deliberately slowing their pace, making him both angry and amused. He couldn't help grabbing snow from the ground and throwing it at the shadow clones.
One shadow clone suddenly reached out and stuffed a large handful of snow down the back of Sasuke's neck.
Sasuke shivered from the cold, turned and slapped a snowball into another shadow clone's face, but didn't notice the ice under his feet.
Splat!
He fell on the snow, splashing up a cloud of snow.
Makoto's main body leaned against the pillar reading a book, occasionally glancing at Sasuke battling the three shadow clones. The Shiro in his arms also barked a few times, as if egging them on.
Just then, with a 'creak', the door opened.
Itachi pushed the door open, his face still carrying un-faded fatigue. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper than usual, as if he hadn't slept well again last night, even his eyelashes carrying a hint of weariness.
Not even ten years old yet, Itachi was already living the life of a nuclear-powered workhorse.
But when he saw the scene in the snow, Sasuke chasing and hitting Makoto's shadow clones in the snow, the latter's main body leaning against a pillar laughing, Shiro in his arms wagging its tail…
The tight line of Itachi's mouth couldn't help but slowly soften. The fatigue in his eyes also lightened a bit, as if melted by the snowlight.
Although working like an ox and horse at high intensity every day, doing missions, was very tiring, coming back to see his two younger brothers was, for Itachi, the happiest thing in the world.
Makoto looked up and spotted Itachi, the smile at the corner of his mouth curving even more distinctly, like a capitalist seeing his most excellent employee.
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FOR EVERY 50 POWER STONES, I'LL UPLOAD ONE CHAPTER