[Those words, in the demonstration of Tseng's care and knowing how difficult it is for the man to communicate it, ache in his chest. Perhaps there is some benefit to doing this through a message than in person. It affords a physical distance, so that composure is easier to maintain. And Tseng will not feel pressured toward any specific reaction or response.]
My childhood was difficult. I was raised in a large clan, the Uchiha, that carried an infamous bloodline. Many of us were powerful shinobi. My family was not excluded from this, as my father was the head of the clan, but — my older brother was the most exceptional by far. I looked up to him. I worshiped the ground he walked on for many of those formative years as a child. My feelings for him now are challenging to describe. He is dead, and it was by my hand.
My village used him as a weapon against my clan to bring us under control, because we had schemed against its elders and leaders. We felt wronged in many ways. So they made my brother, with the aid of another, kill all of us — and twisted the story to make it appear that my brother acted independently.
He spared me. I was eight years old. I was alone for a while, and the rest is complicated, but I grew up holding him responsible for the death of my family and my clan. I learned later it wasn't true, though it was too late by then.
It's not a good story. I regret the actions I took while under the influence of my own emotions through the years that followed, but I can't take them back, so all I can do now is atone.
no subject
My childhood was difficult. I was raised in a large clan, the Uchiha, that carried an infamous bloodline. Many of us were powerful shinobi. My family was not excluded from this, as my father was the head of the clan, but — my older brother was the most exceptional by far. I looked up to him. I worshiped the ground he walked on for many of those formative years as a child. My feelings for him now are challenging to describe. He is dead, and it was by my hand.
My village used him as a weapon against my clan to bring us under control, because we had schemed against its elders and leaders. We felt wronged in many ways. So they made my brother, with the aid of another, kill all of us — and twisted the story to make it appear that my brother acted independently.
He spared me. I was eight years old. I was alone for a while, and the rest is complicated, but I grew up holding him responsible for the death of my family and my clan. I learned later it wasn't true, though it was too late by then.
It's not a good story. I regret the actions I took while under the influence of my own emotions through the years that followed, but I can't take them back, so all I can do now is atone.