𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔫𝔢𝔡.

Two Men and a Deal

(January, 2007)

A deal had been made. Two men were agreeing upon something; a universal event that never led to anything good.

His eyebrows had been furrowed every day since 2002, his lips were pursed into a constant frown. His sour expression was a default; no one had ever seen any other look grace his piercing eyes and hard lips. He looked like the very definition of a main character in every romance novel ever written; dark hair, dark eyes, dark attire. He looked like a Greek god statue, his skin looked smooth as if he was carved from marble. His attitude was nothing of the sort of his skin; he was quiet, though he was rough with his words whenever they were required. He sought to rebuild his clan—the Hatake clan—and restore it to its true glory. He planned to start doing so by having a son.

His plans were ruined on a fateful day in 2002. He was overjoyed to run into the room, his hand gripping the doorframe to turn in and spin himself in the cubicle. His wife laid there on the hospital bed with a tired look on her face, her skin glistening with sweat as it stuck her hair to her forehead. She was smiling down at the newborn in her arms. Strange; it wasn't as loud as he expected it to be. He'd walked over and looked down at the baby, expecting to find an heir to his role as Head of the Hatake clan, only to find a baby girl in her mother's arms.

"That stupid Gojo isn't here..." an older man grumbled, frowning slightly.

Perhaps if the man had listened more carefully in Biology class then he would know to make his testosterone interact with his wife multiple times in the first 6 weeks of her pregnancy. Perhaps he would have a baby boy to teach how to fight and how to be a clan leader, a role model, like he was. He wouldn't be sitting here in a clan meeting with Naobito Zenin on this rainy day, with his arms crossed and his hands resting in the sleeves of his haori to keep them warm, where the sky and the sun had been covered and hidden by dark gray clouds filled with rain that would prey on the fields of Kyoto.

"And this...Hatake...you're sure they're competent in fulfilling a woman's duties? Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry?"

"I'm positive," the man— Isamu Hatake— dared to spare his daughter a side eye, looking down at the girl with a glare. He couldn't stand looking at the girl—he couldn't stand himself, knowing he'd been getting excited over a failure. He couldn't stand the girl. That girl had taken away his hopes of having an heir.

After his daughter was born, his wife nurtured the girl, took care of it, fed it, put it to sleep for as long as she could tolerate her husband's disapproval in her. While she was cradling and feeding and changing diapers, she was carrying the weight of Isamu's anger and frustration and disappointment over her shoulders until the weight was too much, and it broke through her bones and pierced her heart. She'd took her own life on a fateful day before Isamu could try for a boy—nobody would ever know why, but Isamu came to the conclusion that it was because of you.

He'd cursed you, swearing that you'd always and forever ruin everything you ever come in contact with. Everyone you'll ever meet will suffer from knowing you. Everything you'll ever touch will lose its value from the skin of your cursed fingertips. The air you breathe will be filled with a toxicity that will make your life miserable. The food you consume will fill your stomach with knots that will make you crouch and kneel to the pain. The water you drink will be poisoned with a hex that promises you of being unworthy of love from any person, or even a pet. Your very existence will taint the earth you walk on, and only will the planet be at peace when you draw your last breath, and that cursed heart of yours stops beating.

"Their culinary skills are exceptional. They are obedient, never one to talk back. They know the consequences if they ever do." Isamu narrowed his eyes at Naobito pointedly, as if he expected the old Head to already catch on. Naobito simply nodded and smirked, his beady eyes drifting towards you standing next to Isamu with your hands clasped in one another, your back straightened and your face neutral. No smile had ever graced your lips your entire life—five years of an indifferent expression.