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“Guys! Check out this book I found.” Sarada said as she stood on the doorway with an old leather bound book in her hands. The group of friends decided to have a sleepover at the Uchiha household—it was her turn to host their monthly sleepovers, the house was empty so it was perfect. TheY looked at her for a moment, then back to the TV that was playing Mario Kart—Shikadai in the lead, Mitsuki in second and Boruto at dead last.
“What’s that? Looks like my grandma’s dusty old cookbook.” Boruto commented with a snicker, bread crumbs on his shirt and holding the controller.
Sarada rolled her eyes and walked into the living room then sat beside Chocho who enjoyed a tuna sandwich Metal had made. “I remember mom saying something about dad having Icha-Icha. I went to search for it and found this instead.” She said, the leather bound book sitting on her lap. Boruto let out a loud groan—losing to Shikadai for the fifth time that night. Shikadai smirked as the TV screen glowed with the ranking.
“What do you think is in it?” Metal asked curiously, a wide smile on his face. “If your dad has it then it must be related to the legendary Icha Icha they keep talking about! It might even have jutsus that they don’t teach at the academy!”
“Forbidden jutsu?!” Boruto exclaimed. “Alright, four eyes, open it!” . The game was put aside and the controllers were haphazardly tossed in the corner. The electric fan continued to spin, wires tangled at the base.
“So much energy…” Shikadai sighed, Inojin patted his back in comfort. Mitsuki, Shinki, and Chocho shared a pint of juice, their cups clinking as the redheaded girl poured the drink. “Alright, alright, I’ll read it.” The TV continued to glow for several more seconds before automatically shutting off, everyone gathered in a little circle on the blanket covered floor. She untied the red string that was wrapped around the book and flipped over the first pages, yellowed with age and rough to the touch.
“It looks blank.” Shinki replied flatly. Sarada flipped to another page and squinted when she saw something written. It was small and cursive. “Huh, that’s weird.” she mumbled, removing her glasses to look closer.
“What’s in it? Come on, tell us!” Boruto urged the girl, Mitsuki looked at the blond for a moment and nodded in agreement. The blue haired boy was still working on picking up social cues. Though, it was less improvement and more on Boruto teaching him random slang.
“ ‘To anyone reading, to anyone who listens. There’s no better master than fate itself.’ “ she narrated with a confused expression. Boruto, already bored at the proverb, groaned and rolled his eyes. “Ugh, it’s a grandma’s tale!” he said, crossing his arms.
“Does everything have to have substance to keep you interested?” Shinki asked, side eyeing the loud blond. Sarada hid a snort behind her hand and flipped to the next page. Inojin chuckled quietly, using Chocho to hide his shaking shoulders. Metal and Mitsuki looked at each other with raised brows and shrugged at one another. Boruto looked at the brunet, confused at what he said. “What?”
“He said that you can’t keep still like you got bees up your ass.” Shikadai explained with a yawn. The Nara boy was sprawled on the floor, blanket and pillow in hand.
“WHAT?!” Boruto exclaimed. “I DO NOT AND I CAN DEFINITELY SIT STILL!!!”
Shinki looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Prove it. Sarada tells us what’s in the book and you keep quiet the entire time.”
“Deal!” Boruto said with puffed cheeks
“Bet you twenty yen he won’t make it half way.” Inojin whispered to Chocho.
“I HEARD THAT!”
“Alright, pipe down! I’ve got a story to tell!” Sarada declared, having flipped through most of the pages. Boruto sat down with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. The group huddled closer, sharing blankets and pillows. Chocho passed the plate of tuna sandwiches Metal had made earlier, along with several packs of chips. Mitsuki felt a little out of place as he was squished between Shinki and Boruto, though he didn’t mind, he was happy being included.
Sarada loudly and dramatically cleared her throat, her glasses were perched on her head as she began to read. “ ‘When Amaterasu no Mikoto exiled her husband, Tsukuyomi no Mikoto, to the other end of the sky…”
A flower sprouted from her anger and wrapped itself around her finger. The Goddess tried to remove it—believing she had been afflicted by evil—but it did not leave her. She went to her younger brother, Susanoo, asking him to draw his sword and slice off her hand. When he raised his sword, the golden ornament on her forehead shined and reflected onto the steel, blinding Susanoo, who let go of his sword. It fell from the Heavens and struck the Earth, and from the wound of the sky, Raijin was born.
To quell his anger, she apologized and offered him wine for his troubles. Susanoo, not knowing its effects, drank it and fell asleep. She fled, fearing that her brother’s wrath would come tenfold.
Frustrated with the flowers on her finger, she went to Omoikane no Kami for help, asking how to get rid of it. The God of wisdom then told her to dip her fingers into the mouth of a river and let the flowers soak up the water, that she must wring it out.
Amaterasu no Mikoto, hearing this, went to Izumo and there she went to the mouth of a flowing river and dipped her hand into the flowing water. The red flowers—Astilbe, she called them—bloomed and became heavy. She wrung the blossoms dry, turning the cumbersome chain into a thin red string that had no end.
When her brother, Susanoo awoke from his slumber, he went into a fit of rage as he had been tricked by his sister. In fury he went to her palace and destroyed her precious loom, from the tragedy came Okuninushi no Kami. Seeing this, Amaterasu banished her brother from the Heavens once again and unto Earth where he would wander aimlessly through plains.
Susanoo, now exiled, descended on the mountains of Izumo where he found chopsticks flowing down the river of Hi. He travelled upstream, where he found an elderly couple weeping. Upon hearing the old man’s story, Susanoo agreed to slay the serpent in exchange for Kushihanada-hime’s hand in marriage.
After Susanoo defeated the evil serpent, Yamata no Orochi, Tsukuyomi no Mikoto approached the great Goddess Amaterasu for the first time in a millennium—to apologize for what they had done to Ukemochi no Kami. To her surprise, she found that Tsukuyomi had the same red string wrapped around their thumb.
“I receive you.” She said “Come, let us rule the skies as one.”
Tsukuyomi, having been pardoned, refused to accept. For they had grown content living in their domain. Amaterasu was saddened by their rejection. “Do not fret, for I am always with you. When your thread moves, so will I. And you with me.” Tsukuyomi said, soothing her troubles. Amaterasu agreed and from their reconciliation came Ame-no-Oshihomimi, their first born son. To this, Amaterasu passed on the red string, and from Heaven it came to Earth, blessing mortals of their fates. With each winter that passed, brought one night where the moon was full and bright. Tsukuyomi would descend from the skies and approach a child to tell their fate. When the Moon God ascends back to the Heavenly skies, Amaterasu would come down and guide another child, connecting the two children with the same red string.
“ ‘Though a distant relative, Umino…’ Huh?” Sarada squinted at the text, pulling the book closer. She paused for a moment, flipping through pages with a quizzical expression. “That’s weird.”
“Something wrong with the book?” Chocho asked, in her hands was a family sized pack of chips they all savored like soldiers receiving rations. She leaned closer to the young Uchiha, though she couldn’t understand much of what was written with how small the penmanship was.
“The name’s blacked out.” She replied, showing the book to her friend. Chocho wiped her hands on a clean towel before taking it. She clicked her tongue trying to read the pages. “Damn, this is worse than Boruto’s handwriting.” she grumbled, turning a page.
“WHAT?! MY HANDWRITING IS—” Boruto cut himself then looked at Shinki who smirked. Boruto couldn’t even last ten minutes keeping quiet. “Hmp! I’m just tryna’ say my handwriting isn’t THAT bad.” The blond boy mumbled with crossed arms. Mitsuki smiled softly and patted his back in comfort.
“Man, Susanoo sounds badass.” Inojin said, “Does the book say anything about what he looks like?”
“No.” Sarada shrugged, “You gonna draw him?”
“Totally.” He smiled.
“Amaterasu-sama was overreacting.” Shikadai commented with a heavy sigh, his hair framed half his face, making him look like a matted Afghan Hound. “She went out and did all that for a bunch of flowers.”
“It sounds similar to the story my father used to tell me.” Shinki hummed, taking a sip of juice. He was bundled in heavy blankets, not used to Konoha’s cold—blazing hot—weather. “The God Osiris came to Suna to rule as king with his wife, a Goddess, Isis.”
“Does it have cool fights?!” Boruto asked.
“No, but it does have a murder plan.” Shinki replied flatly.
“That sounds much cooler than Sarada’s stupid book.”
“I’M RIGHT HERE!” Sarada shouted and threw an empty bottle of Gatorade. It hit him square in the face. Inojin laughed loudly before getting hit with the same bottle by Boruto, a loud ‘thwack!’ echoed in the room as the plastic rolled away.
“Shinki should tell the next story!” Metal said with a wide grin. “Anyway, what happened next?!” He was covered by blankets and shared the Akamaru-sized Snorlax plushie that Shikadai brought. “The first names are blacked out on every page.” Sarada sighed, rubbing her temples. Chocho handed back the book with a shrug, unable to find a clue about the names.
“Never mind that, I wanna know what the Gods did.” Inojin replied, wrapping himself with a thick blanket.
Sarada nodded, flipping back to the original page. She took a breath and squinted at the text, trying to remember where she left off. “Okay… So. ‘Though a distant relative, Umino was a descendant of Amaterasu. But he was not a courteous child…’ ”
Umino pranked imperial wardens, stole fruits from stalls, and often got into trouble with boys his age. He went unpunished, for his grandfather had taken him as his own when his first born child had run away to Amegakure.
Once, Umino had stolen peaches from the market and was chased by the vendor. The young boy tripped, the fruit rolling down the streets and stopped at the foot of his grandfather’s carriage. Seeing his nephew, he laughed and picked up the peach. “Even in mischief, you remember your elders. How thoughtful of you.” The young boy smiled brightly, having gotten away once again.
Trouble followed the boy everywhere he went. Whilst visiting a shrine, he had knocked over a table with burning incense—smoke filled the room as he quietly ran outside. When a scholar had visited the palace, he had stolen a scroll that contained a diagram of the Northern stars—he did not return it and his crime went undetected. His most recent felony, having offended an imperial guard that was on duty—he had been chased across half the city before coming across with his grandfather and was saved once again.
One day, while resting in the branches of an olive tree, the Goddess Amaterasu came down from the Heavens as a bright ray of sunlight. When he saw her, he spoke to the Goddess. “Okami, why have you visited? Have my misdeeds caught your sparkling eyes?”
“Troublesome child, you are good with words but it will not sway me.” She stood tall at the base of the tree—she did not need to raise her head to speak to him—her kimono was a river of white, fluttering in the wind. “Come child, I will open your eyes to fate much grander than your grandfather’s palace.” Umino, upon hearing this, dropped down from the thick branches and stood in front of her. The great Amaterasu held out her hand, a red string wrapped around her pinky, thin and never ending. It glowed softly—as red as the pillars of the palace—and swayed like lanterns and furins on a windy day.
Umino looked at the string and reached out to touch it. He yelped, stumbling back as his fingers were burnt by it. “Silly child, take my hand.” She said, placing her hand forward towards him.
“Ah…! Yes, Okami.” The boy said with a nod and placed his palm in hers.
The great Amaterasu guided them as they went to the market, through bustling streets and loud vendors. “Okami, why are we here?” Umino asked. He had not been in the good graces of merchants for he had done more than steal fruit from them.
“You will know soon.” Amaterasu said as they passed by various quaint stalls. When an imperial soldier had walked by, Umino ducked, covering himself with the Goddess’s long kimono.
The Goddess stopped at once as they reached the middle of the district. “See this, my child? Soon, you will meet your destiny here.” She said raising her hand, her string now drawn tight. When she had done this, his hand followed the motion. He felt a tug on his own finger, yet nothing was on it. Amaterasu waved her hand, Umino following her motions, he felt something pinching his pinky. Confused, he tried to search for the cause but found his hand bare. “One day, you will come here once again, and your fate will be sealed.”
Silence wrapped the group of teens like a thick winter blanket. Everyone was eager to hear more, at least what happened next. Sarada flipped through the next pages—panicking—trying to find something to explain the story. She quickly realized the next pages were ripped off.
“Something wrong with the pages?” Mitsuki asked.
“It’s ripped out.” She said, “It jumps straight to Umino getting married to this guy named Hatake…”
“Never mind that, I need to know the string shit.” Inojin urged her. Shikadai was half awake, his eyes closed as he hummed in agreement—assumed, at least.
“Alright, alright! Jeez…” She said, flipping through the next block of text. She took a deep breath. “ ‘Umino, the troublesome child he was, grew up into a fine young prince. Despite the scar that he attained as a child, many found him a charming scholar. Soon, he was set to marry a shogun named Hatake. Unnerved, he chose to hide his face, fearing that his husband would be disgusted by it…’ ”
The sun rose and set, and so did the moon, Hatake persisted—asking why he wore the veil. “Are you afraid that I will think you are hideous?” Hatake asked when a fortnight passed. When he was met with no reply, great guilt took over him as he did not know why his partner hid behind such a cloth.
Hatake, with no answer, was convinced that the reason why the prince hid his face is because Umino was humiliated to be his husband. Shame had fallen over his body that he became ill, bed ridden from his duty. No physician could find a cure nor a cause for his ailment. “Lord Hatake is being punished by the Gods!” An old healer scorned, “What have you done to anger them?”. Hatake, bearing the news of his incurable affliction, prayed. He told a prayer every night for thirty nights, to his misfortune no one answered. On the thirty-first night, Omoikane no Mikoto descended upon him. “Okami!” Hatake declared in the quiet night. “It is more than wisdom I need, for my husband is ashamed of me!”
Omoikane no Mikoto, seeing his great despair, answered. “Your husband is not ireful of what you think of him, but of what you have done.” Hatake, upon receiving his answer, did not understand. Confused, he asked. “What have I done to offend him, Okami?” The great God saw good fortune in the man. “He will tell you soon.” Omoikane no Mikoto said and ascended. Hatake, guided by wisdom, stared out of the window. The night, cold and distant, he thanked the great God.
“What great pain has come to my husband!” Umino cried out, one solemn night. Tsukuyomi no Mikoto, hearing his grief from the Heavens, descended in front of him as moonlight, shining brightly. The beam of light guided Umino to his husband’s quarters, upon being blessed, he thanked the great God and went.
Umino, with great concern for his husband’s health, rushed to his quarters. Upon seeing his husband standing by the window, he felt regret and worry settle deep in his chest. “Oh husband, why are you awake at this hour? The sun has not yet risen.”
Hatake, hearing his lover’s soft voice, turned around to see him. “My prayers have been answered.” He said, a breeze came and went, the sound of furin singing from the porch. “Come, my love. The stars are bright tonight.” He said, and like the flowing river, Umino went to him with no resistance. Hatake watched as his haori swayed with each step.
They stood side by side, the dark and still sky twinkling softly. Umino, regretful of his actions, looked at his husband and confessed. “Husband, I have been neglectful to you, for I have hidden myself. You have fallen ill because of my temperament."
Hatake, in patience, spoke. “I have no ill thought of you for what you have done, my love. For you have been tolerant of my insistence, I have forgotten to be patient myself.”
“To you I have great gratitude.” Umino replied with shyness, the sound of chirping insects echoed. “I will tell you why I have hid myself.”. Hatake, eager to hear the story, turned to gaze upon his husband. His attention rapt and uncaring to the world that surrounded them.
“When I was young, I was not always so patient. I was troublesome and fought with anyone I deemed worth a fight. One day, I dueled with a boy, one who was much older and experienced than I was.” Umino told him as he untied the veil that covered half of his face, Hatake marveled at the soft opaque cloth—he wondered endlessly what his husband hid when morning came, at night he pondered why his husband did so. “I had injured him—striking his right eye—but I had lost and earned the same punishment for my pride.”
Now unmasked, Umino looked away from his husband. Ashamed of the scar that spanned from the left of his face to the right, crossing the bridge of his nose. Hatake, enthralled by his unparalleled beauty, did not know how to respond. When Umino was met with uncharacterized silence, he was afraid he would be banished for his scar. He looked to see Hatake, smiling widely at him.
“What beauty, my love!” He says joyfully, reaching out to hold his face. “Why hide if there is nothing unsightly to behold? Truly, the Heavens have favored me, for I have found you once again!” He exclaimed, fruition overcoming him as fate had once again come into his life.
“I know not a word you speak, husband.” Umino said, confused at his sudden display of affection. He has not seen Hatake act like this before, he did not think his husband was capable of doing so. Not since illness had taken a hold of him.
“My love, I was foolish.” Hatake confessed with shame, though with a smile on his face. “I was young and naïve, the great God Tsukuyomi had blessed me one fateful night and told me that I shall bring sorrow to my spouse. I did not understand why the great Tsukuyomi visited nor why I would do such a thing. Fear had taken a hold of me, but soon I slowly forgot about it—ceased from my mind.”
Hatake, his illness now relieved, held Umino’s hands and kissed them. “When we first met—the market, the duel, the scars. It is to my great joy to have you back into my life. You have come and sewn me whole!”
“ ‘Umino, bewildered by the…’ Wait… What?” Sarada stopped narrating, and flipped through pages.. “It… It ends.”
“That’s it?! That’s the ending?!” Metal asked, too deep into the story. “What did Umino say?!” A stack of plates, wrappers and cups sat on the coffee table. Sarada flicked through the next pages but found them all empty. “The last page is torn off again. The rest is blank.” She said, frowning, and closed the book with slumped shoulders. The group of teens let out a unanimous groan at the unfinished ending. The sound of crickets echoed in the backyard, the overheated electric fan buzzed as it continued to spin.
“Man…” Boruto said. “That was the most boring story I’ve ever heard.”
Several pillows were thrown at him. The tale of the red string became Sarada’s Roman Empire.