Silence is impossible in a house where children live. In fact, silence is more often a reason for suspicion rather than celebration. Which was why when a certain, black-haired child suddenly burst through the front door shouting for his father, his mother only sighed. Within seconds she'd dropped the dish-towel in her hand and appeared in the hallway, a rather rebuking expression on her face. At the sight, the five year-old ducked his head slightly.

"Sorry, Okaasan," he offered.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure," she replied, shaking her head. "As sorry as you were the last time, hm?"

The boy furrowed his brow, as if attempting to remember. After a moment he bobbed his head and offered a toothy grin.

"Uh-huh!"

"I'm rather certain you completely missed what I was implying," she replied with a faint sigh. "But, we'll put that aside for now. What are you in such a hurr--"

"Oh, right! Otousan! Otousan, where are you?!"

Seemingly reminded of whatever had sent him bursting into the house, he suddenly rushed down the hall, blue eyes alit with excitement. She quickly stepped to the side when he reached her, only rolling her eyes as he ran out the back door without as much as another word to her. It was only then she noticed the bag clutched to the boy's chest. She frowned for a moment, then chuckled beneath her breath. So, that was it.

"Otousan!"

The boy burst out of the back door, much like he had through the front. This time, however, he wasn't scolded. Rather, his sudden appearance didn't even seem to draw his father's attention. No, that remained solely on the small, one year-old girl that sat about a dozen feet from where the adult stood with his back against one of the many trees that lined the yard. The man's brow was knitted, a rather concerning frown settled on his lips. The girl, however, glanced towards the door at the appearance of the five year-old.

"Oniisan!"

"Otousan!" the boy called, ignoring his younger sister for now. "Otousan, look what Sensei gave me!"

This finally seemed to get his father's attention. As the boy ran over, his father offered a faint smile.

"What is it?"

The boy pulled the bag away from his chest, dumping his prize out onto the ground. It was revealed to be a brown, leather pouch. The clank of metal as it hit the earth left little doubt in the adult's mind of what laid inside.

"I won a game," the boy explained. "And that's the prize! I hit the bullseye three times."

His father was far from surprised by the announcement. Despite his young age, the boy had shown exceptional skill in every area that the academy tested. Well, except for one... but that was only to be expected given his circumstances. At this thought, the man's eyes drifted back to where the one year-old was pushing herself onto her feet so she could toddle to where her mother had appeared in the backdoor. He frowned. Was history repeating itself, he wondered? She'd been talking to herself...

"Otousan!"

Jolted from his thoughts, he glanced back at the boy. The child's cheeks had puffed up, a rather indignant expression on his face.

"Sorry," the man replied. "What'd you say?"

"I said, Kiba-kun said he has a target at home. So does Sasuke."

"So you want one?" his father guessed.

"Uh-huh! Can I? Pleeaaase?"

Was this honestly the best idea?

He knew better. Those bright blue eyes staring at him wouldn't always be so bright, not if he let things continue how they were. In his nightmares they stared at him, accusing him of causing what was to come by letting the boy go down this path. What had he been thinking, he wondered, by letting the boy take the entrance exam? Wouldn't things have been so much easier if he'd told him no? There were so many different paths he could take with his life. He could be learning to make those weapons he was so excited to receive from his teacher. He could be learning history, or math in a room full of normal, civilian kids.

Anything but classes the ninja academy.

"Otousan!"

"Sorry, sorry," the man replied, a smile covering his dark thoughts. "A target, huh?"

The boy nodded. At some point he'd grabbed the leather pouch from the ground and was now clutching it to his chest.

"Please?"

"... sure," the man replied after a moment, dropping his head and ruffling his son's hair. "I'll make one. Just make sure to show me how awesome you are at hitting the target, alright?"

The boy's eyes lit up even brighter than before. He dropped the pouch and threw his tiny arms around his father's legs.

"I love you, Otousan!"

For how long? The man wondered.

"Me too, Jun. I love you, too." 

Just a little thing I wrote at five in the morning on a sleepless night, haha.