#Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura

[whatcha-reading-today]

Fanfic spotlight: Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura | Starshot

This is a blast of a story! Shisui is sort of Indiana Jones and finds clues leading to an archaeological treasure. The adventure is a blast, and seeing how Shisui and Itachi interact especially in terms of their conflicting relationship to their family is great.

Read it here:

Author: Starshot

Fandom: Naruto

Main characters: Shisui Uchiha/Itachi Uchiha, other Uchiha

Author's description:

With a knack for finding adventure, love, and long-lost artifacts all over the world, archaeologist Shisui Uchiha is living the dream. In Japan, duty bound to his traditional family, Uchiha Itachi is preparing to settle for something far less.

But the unearthing of a new clue to Asura’s Treasure by Shisui’s cousin Izumi is about to bring them all together, catapulting them headfirst into conflict with Madara—a mercenary with an army, a grudge, and a desire to see the world burn.

Madara has only one goal—to get to Asura’s Treasure first, by whatever means necessary.

And the only thing standing in his way will be Shisui and his friends…

Word count: 70,418 words

Rating: E

Complete: No

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Breaking news: I have finally, FINALLY finished the first draft of this story! Believe me when I say I'm just as excited and surprised as everyone else about that fact. Frankly, the whole of 2022 kind of sucked for me. I had so much stuff going on in life it left me with no time or energy to write. So even though there's still a lot of editing to go to before this story gets published, completing the first draft is a massive step. I'm so excited to be writing again, and to hopefully share this story with you in the near future. Here's to a more productive, happy 2023!

WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

[usuratongaychi]

guys read Shisui Uchiha and the lost treasure of asura on ao3 if you love shi-ita i love it so much the last drawing is jiraiya with shisui and izumi😭😭😭

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura - WIP Wednesday

I realised it's been quite a while since I shared any updates on Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura (mostly thanks to work--in case you haven't noticed by now, I'm basically married to my job, and it's very needy).

Aaaanyway... in the spirit of the first WIP Wednesday of 2022, and in celebration of finishing the 5th chapter (which is actually now the 7th chapter, because I have never once written anything concise in my life, and having two random 20,000 word chapters in the middle of a bunch of shorter ones offended my sense of order), I've decided to share a bit about how it's going, and another sneak peek.

In short, this thing is a behemoth. It's proving to be hands down the most difficult story I've ever written. If I didn't love the characters and world as much as I do, I would have smashed it into a million tiny pieces by now, set those pieces on fire, smashed them some more, then possibly ordered an exorcism for this entire project.

I have literally spent hours poring over Google Maps and Street View, and researching everything from haikus and local foods, to world famous buildings, to the intricacies of Japanese law, to world history and historical figures - both real and legendary, and honestly, just far more other shit than I care to recall (also because a lot of it would give away the story).

The scope of this thing is wildly out of control at this point. I'd hire a research assistant if I could, so I could ask them, "What types of cactuses grow in Joshua Tree National Park? How do you belay when rock climbing? Is there a map of XXX location so I can bullshit my way through writing it? What's that Japanese legend about the rabbit in the moon again?" just so I didn't have to do it all myself.

*Deep breaths*

All of which is to say, the writing is progressing normally.

If that leaves you imagining I write my stories in a flaming dumpster while telling myself "this is fine," then congratulations... you now understand my creative process.

Anyway, I have about 72K words, and I'm estimating 110-120K by the time I actually finish. So including editing (noooooo), this story is probably still months away from being published. If I don't smash my computer first...

On that happy note, here's an excerpt:

As the conversation rapidly degenerates into an all-out argument, Shisui concludes his participation in it is likely to be more inflammatory than it is helpful. Having long since learnt that it’s a bad idea to get in Izumi’s way when she gets riled up, he beats a quick retreat to the entrance of the office, intending to examine Itachi’s assembled artifacts in greater detail. As he stops beside the pretty shield, a suspiciously loud thud from outside of the office catches his attention. A series of them, in fact, accompanied by raised voices.

Frowning, he glances back at Itachi and Izumi. Mid-squabble, it doesn’t seem like they’ve even noticed.

Shisui sighs. Of course, it could be Itachi’s students marching en-masse down the corridor to beat down his door, complaining about poor results and nitpicky marking. Which would be highly entertaining. But that seems a whole lot less likely than the other possible explanation. Resigned to fact that some new unpleasantness is most likely about to insert itself into his day, Shisui takes a deep breath and carefully cracks the door open.

What he sees makes him close it again just as fast.

Fuck.

Waving his arms wildly to get Izumi and Itachi’s attention, he calls across the room in a hoarse whisper, “Hey, Izumi… any idea why an angry guy who looks kind of like Two-Face from Batman is kicking down office doors out there with a band of anaemic green-haired thugs?”

Immediately, Izumi’s face pinches in a way that almost certainly indicates she knows the answer. “Uh…”

Covering the distance in a couple of short strides, and doing his best to ignore the delightfully startled look that seems to have taken up residence on Itachi’s face—and possibly rent-free in his brain—Shisui forms a circle between the three of them and the desk. Snatching up the Key, he waves it in Izumi’s direction. “How did you say you came by this this again?”

Izumi folds her arms defensively. “I acquired it…”

“Yes, you said that. But where?”

“At a party. In New York.”

Enunciating every syllable with pointed clarity, at a speed completely at odds with his racing heart, Shisui pushes on. “Whose party?”

The ruckus in the corridor gets louder.

Making an irritated noise, Izumi finally gives in. “Okay! I stole it from Madara Uchiha, all right? Are you happy now?”

Itachi glances between them—taking in Izumi’s dismissive expression, and Shisui’s well-contained but not entirely smothered irritation—clearly processing the turn this situation is taking, and realising it’s not in his favour. Something sharp needles the pit of Shisui’s stomach as he watches it, realising his fabled reputation for chaos and destruction seems to have followed him through the door within fifteen minutes of their first meeting. Even for him, that’s got to be some kind of record.

But there’s no time to dwell on it. Or to apologise. Slamming the Key on the desk, harder than intended, Shisui drags a hand over his face. “Hijo de puta! Madara Uchiha? The Mad Mercenary? Of all the people you could’ve pissed off, Izumi...”

Rolling her eyes, Izumi cuffs him on the shoulder. “I don’t speak Spanish, asshole!”

Oh for fuck’s sake… Barely missing a beat, Shisui repeats himself. “Why the hell would you piss off someone like him!”

Izumi throws up her arms defiantly. “I didn’t think he’d trace it back to me!”

Shisui rolls his eyes. “No, because apparently you just didn’t think.”

She makes a face at him, beyond unimpressed. “Oh, like you can talk.”

“I’m not the one who orchestrated a surprise family reunion.”

Interrupting them with a surprising level of confidence and composure for someone whose office and person is under imminent threat of harm, Itachi clears his throat. “Madara has been disowned,” he points out helpfully. “For his unbecoming behaviour.”

“Great!” Shisui exclaims sarcastically, any ideas he might have been harbouring about Itachi being some profound genius evaporating instantly. “I’m sure that’ll stop him shooting us. Maybe if we just ask nicely.”

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Dear Starshot, I recently saw your latest artwork for #Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura and I am DYING to learn more about this AU. If you're comfortable sharing, is there anything you can disclose about it?? Is this related to the ItaShi Indiana Jones AU you mentioned before?!!?!?!?!!

Hi Birk, thank you so much for dropping by with this ask! Are you really voluntarily asking me to talk about my current obsession and fanfic baby though? Because I warn you, you may live to regret that!!!

"Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura" is now the official title of my ItaShi Indiana Jones AU. I realise it’s been over a year since I first mentioned it, and it’s still a WIP! Pretty sure that says absolutely nothing good about the speed of my writing, but a lot about how busy my life outside of fandom is. Anyhow, it’s definitely one of those AUs that’s got away on me. I was planning one story initially, but now it’s kind of turned into three (plus a cracky oneshot), and this is just the first.

I’ve planned nine chapters total so far, but the bane of my life is currently number four. It’s sitting at 16,000 words and counting. Succinct writing? I’ve certainly never heard of it… So anyway, I kind of hit a wall there and decided to take a little break to come back with fresh eyes. That’s how I ended up working on the art instead. But I’d say I’m probably about halfway through the first draft (47,000-ish words).

I recently shared the opening scene and my draft cover artwork here. Ummm… what else can I tell you? Madara is the main bad guy, and he’s definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Shisui is an agent of disaster and chaos. Itachi is really… not. So their initial interactions go about as well as you could expect.

All the main characters have extensive back stories. I’m pretty sure you’re already familiar with my Machiavellian worldbuilding tendencies from reading Red Dawn, so it goes without saying I have just as many notes and plans, and as much fleshed out worldbuilding for this story too. And it will take a long time for all of that to be revealed! But the overarching theme is probably found family, which is different to anything I’ve done before.

At this risk of revealing too much, or boring you to tears, I’ll finish with another sneak peek, this time from Itachi’s POV:

When Itachi wakes, there’s nothing to suggest his day is going to be anything but routine.

He gets up at dawn as per usual, eating breakfast at the dining table alone, legs tucked beneath him on a comfortable zabuton. The solitude at this hour of day is something he prefers. It’s the only time the family home is quiet anymore—lacking the cold disapproval of his father’s increasingly judgemental lectures, the anger of his younger brother’s rebellion, or the resigned acquiescence of his mother.

By now, Fugaku should have left for work, and it’s still too early for Sasuke to be awake, given how late he’s been staying out at night. Either to irritate their father, or just avoid him entirely, he’s taken to frequenting the clubs and bars in Osaka. Mostly, he comes home. Some nights, he doesn’t.

More often than not, even when he is home his door is closed, the thumping bass line of some song or another seeping out from beneath it. Likely because he knows this angers their father even more than the leather jackets and spiked punk-rock hair style he now sports.

Part of Itachi has been glad to discover his brother possesses more of a spine than he ever has. But at the same time, Sasuke’s rejection of every last one of their father’s rules has only brought more unwanted scrutiny to Itachi’s far more minor transgressions. It’s as though, having decided his younger child is a lost cause, Fugaku now wants to be absolutely certain his eldest son and heir to the Uchiha family fortune is beyond reproach. To smother him with expectations until he emerges, a diamond from beneath the pressure.

But unbeknownst to Fugaku, Itachi has one flaw he can’t change. And it means that, no matter what, he’ll always be a failure in his father’s eyes.

Sighing, he swallows a mouthful of rice and fish, washing it down with the sweetened barley tea he favours. Pulling this month’s edition of Modern Archaeology across the table, he inspects its glossy cover and promptly chokes on his drink.

The face that smiles up from the page stokes a knot of hot irritation in his gut. Furiously, he skips to the article, skim-reading the text, despite the fact he knows it will only annoy him further.

"An up-and-coming star in the field of archaeology, particularly specialising in South-American cultures, Shisui Uchiha is an increasingly well-known fixture of the San Diego research scene. Curiously for someone so entrenched in the study of history, he is famously reticent when it comes to his own. ‘I did spend my early years in Japan,’ he confirms when pressed. ‘But I haven’t been back in a long time. The United States is my home now.’ Asked about his connection to the famous Uchiha family, he merely winks enigmatically. ‘Never heard of them,’ he says, before asking if we’d like a one-on-one tour of the dig site.

Equally at home in dusty ruins as surfing the palm-lined SoCal beaches, or scaling the cliffs of his native Joshua Tree National Park, he nonetheless shines in group settings too. At the party we attend that evening, to celebrate the opening of a new Aztec exhibit at the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, he easily charms the crowd, finishing the night with at least half a dozen new admirers. It’s not hard to see why they like him. A conversation with Shisui is exercise in passion and obscure historical knowledge. Even so, much like the dig sites he frequents, it’s hard to say just how much of what he presents to the world runs more than surface-deep.

His motto in life? ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight,’ Shisui says with a charismatic smile. Where did he learn it? Chuckling, he brushes us off. ‘The school of hard knocks.’

Love him or hate him, one thing is certain—we haven’t seen the last of Shisui Uchiha’s brand of archaeology.”

Hate him, Itachi thinks, sipping his tea viciously enough to scald his tongue and immediately regretting it. Definitely hate. Hate how he’s reckless, impulsive, irresponsible, and doesn’t seem to take a single thing seriously. Hate that it looks like he’s never had to work hard for anything a day in his life—people only too happy to hand him whatever he wants on a silver platter, charmed by a pretty smile. Hate the fact that, despite their shared family name, he’s free to do whatever he likes. Hate the way people flock to him, falling into his orbit—and by all accounts, bed—like it’s somehow inevitable. And hate, most of all, that there’s a small part of Itachi which understands why.

Because hate or love him—and it’s definitely hate—there’s no denying that Shisui Uchiha is, objectively, a very attractive man.

Coming back to his senses and realising he’s been leaning over the magazine, frowning so hard his forehead hurts, Itachi straightens, closing his eyes and massaging the knot of tension out from between his eyebrows.

“Itachi—”

The tension sinks in even deeper. He opens his eyes. “Father.”

Fugaku takes in magazine, then his son, and Itachi really hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. It’s stupid, but merely knowing he feels the way he does about the man on the page makes him fear being caught. As though his father might somehow divine his deepest darkest secret, just by looking. Truthfully, Itachi sometimes wonders if he might not already know, or at least suspect. But if he does, it’s clearly a truth he’s chosen not to acknowledge.

“I take it you’re prepared for our meeting this evening?” Fugaku asks, grim as ever.

Attempting a composed sip of his tea, Itachi nods. “Yes. Of course.”

Mouth a hard, unyielding line, Fugaku makes some indiscernible noise of disapproval, sweeping an appraising glance over Itachi. “Well, I suppose it’s too much to hope that anything can be done about your hair between then and now. But they’re a modern family. New money. Perhaps it won’t matter so much.”

Fingers tightening into the flesh of his thigh, Itachi has to remind himself to breathe. “I will do my best to make a good impression,” he says, inclining his head towards his father, penitence for his innumerable shortcomings—not least of all the choice to grow his hair out. It’s a small act of rebellion compared to Sasuke’s effort, but one his father seems determined to curtail as promptly as possible.

Poker face easing ever so slightly, Fugaku’s brows trend downwards, though their slant is still severe. “I know. You are my son, after all. And it is high time you were married with a family of your own. Perhaps then you will see the value in giving up these frivolous academic pursuits, and taking your rightful place at the head of the family business.”

He might as well build a box and stuff Itachi into it. Mold him to fit his own vision of the future. But Itachi has long since learnt that what he wishes he could have from life, and what he can have, are two very different things. So, just like his infrequent clandestine trips to the less desirable areas of Osaka’s nightlife, this too, he realises he will have to sacrifice. Duty before self.

“Yes Father, I’m certain you’re right,” he says, bowing once more as Fugaku leaves for work, closing the front door behind him with a click that reeks of finality.

As his footsteps crunch away on the gravel path outside, Itachi can’t help clenching his fists, until long after his knuckles turn white.

Theoretically, it’s a good match. From a family of good standing, his potential bride is quiet and well spoken—the perfect future housewife and mother. Their marriage would kill two birds with one stone, giving her father the son he never had, and Itachi—and therefore by extension Fugaku—control of their biggest competitor’s business.

All it requires is for Itachi spend the rest of his life pretending to be something he’s not.

The weight of it burns tight in his throat, threatening to break free on a rising tide of bile. He longs to cast off his gilded shackles, take a leaf from Sasuke’s book and do something completely crazy.

With a sigh, he rises from the table, collecting his dishes and depositing them circumspectly into the sink. Another day of work awaits.

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Chapter 2: Thief, Scholar and Mercenary

Chapter 3: The Doge's Riddle

Chapter 4: When Hell Freezes Over

Chapter 5: Tangling with Time

Chapter 6: Give and Take

Chapter 7: How Bazaar

Chapter 8: Lights Out

Chapter 9: Train Trouble

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A tiny scholar Itachi and his nemesis Madara, waiting for me to hurry up and colour in his boyfriend so this damn artwork can be finished already.

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WIP Update

Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura

I can't believe how long it's been since I shared any updates or snippets from this story! So anyway, in celebration of only having one more chapter, plus a little bit of art, to complete before I can finally start posting it (no... do not mention editing to me, I'm trying really hard not to think about that yet), I figured I'd share a sneak peek.

It's getting hard to find story excerpts that don't give away any of the plot, but this one has a short interaction between Madara (aka the "Mad Mercenary" and villain of this story) and Shisui.

Anyhow, hopefully I'll have this all finished in the not too distant future!

“Shisui… that distraction please?” Izumi prompts.

Shit.

“Sorry…” Rolling over to the edge of the platform, Shisui racks his brains. How exactly does one distract an insane madman hellbent on murder, whilst also providing no opportunity for that person to carry out the aforementioned homicide? By chance, his gaze settles on his hat, lying on the ground beside him where it fell in his mad scramble to flee Madara’s bullets. The brown felt is speckled with marble chip and dust, and he stares at it for a moment, thinking. Well, what the hell… when in doubt, improvise, right?

Closing his fingers around the brim, he waves it over the edge of the platform, yelling as loud as he can, “Hey! Hey! Imitation Bond villain? Can you stop shooting for a second please? I want to talk to you!”

It does take a moment, but after a brisk authoritative shout from Madara, the gunfire ceases, though the memory of it still echoes around the square. Taking it as a sign his request has been accepted, Shisui props himself up on his forearms, peering cautiously over the low railing.

Arms folded, Madara watches impatiently, flanked by his cardboard cut-out mercenary squad.

“Hurry up. I don’t have all night,” he snaps, mouth curling with a sneer.

There’s something about the Zetsus standing beside him that doesn’t quite seem real—with their matching clothes, pasty complexions and green buzz-cut hair. Even the way they stand looks alike, each of them holding their rifles at precisely the same angle. Exactly the same mannerisms and pose. Like they’re carbon copies. Struck by how weird it is, and for lack of anything close to a plan, Shisui points at them, blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Do you all dress like a late 1990s boy band deliberately, or is it a coincidence? Because I’ve heard cargo pants are coming back into fashion, but you might want to ask for a refund on those shirts…”

Mouth ajar, Madara stares at him, nose crinkling in disbelief. With a snarl, he turns to the Zetsus. “Shoot him.”

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Okay, I'm calling it. With 11,000 words of notes, so many hours of research I've lost track, and several major storyline revisions, I'm officially ready to declare ItaShi Indiana Jones a happening thing.

It's even got a proper title now: Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura.

Wish me luck haha.

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Well crap. I have a full chapter by chapter outline for this story now. Currently over 10,000 words. So I guess it's probably going to get written. Eventually.

My current 2023 writing plan (subject to change) is:

Finish posting Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura

Write and post the short story that links the Lost Treasure of Asura to its potential sequel (current WIP title - Shisui Uchiha and the Comic-Con Macguffin)

Finally finish and post You've Got the Music in You (my Stucky 00's Iraq War fic that consistently ends up back on the shelf)

Investigate writing the next arc of my Kakaobi fic Red Dawn (no I haven't forgotten this fic exists, it's just a very intimidating behemoth, and I struggle to get into the right mood to work on it).

If enough people enjoy the Lost Treasure of Asura, I plan to write a sequel (current WIP title - Shisui Uchiha and the Legend of the Demon Fox Priestess)

Naturally, all of this is subject to change at the whim of my muses!

Me: What I really need is to finish proofreading this next chapter so I can post it-

My brain: Wheeee why don't you spend 24hrs outlining a plot for the sequel to that story you've barely started posting?

Me: Guess I'm gonna go spend 24hrs outlining a plot for a story I don't know I'll ever write...

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

I know I've been kind of absent from writing and this page in general recently. I just want to state for the record that I am very much not dead. Or giving up writing. I just have multiple different roles at work, and all of them have conspired to turn to shit at exactly the same time. Which has unfortunately left me with very little time or energy to write. Feels like it's about 5 minutes a month right now.

But it won't last forever, and I am still working (albeit very slowly) on Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura. Only two more chapters to go before I edit and post! Then maybe I'll actually finish that Stucky fic from 2019. We'll get there one day...

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Pairing: Shisui/Itachi

Rating: E

Word Count: ~125,000 when all chapters are posted Summary:

With a knack for finding adventure, love, and long-lost artifacts all over the world, archaeologist Shisui Uchiha is living the dream.

In Japan, duty bound to his traditional family, Uchiha Itachi is preparing to settle for something far less.  

But the unearthing of a new clue to Asura’s Treasure by Shisui’s cousin Izumi is about to bring them all together, catapulting them headfirst into conflict with Madara—a mercenary with an army, a grudge, and a desire to see the world burn. Madara has only one goal—to get to Asura’s Treasure first, by whatever means necessary.

And the only thing standing in his way will be Shisui and his friends…

Chapter 1: A Call to Adventure

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Not gonna lie, I'm pretty glad to hear you'll wait until the ends of the earth for this AU, because honestly, that feels like about how long it's going to take! I have significantly less spare time right now than I'd like, and I can't see that changing any time soon🤦‍♀️😪 But the good news is that Chapter 8 is pretty much finished, and I swear that means I'm 2/3 done with this story. I'm also pretty determined to make progress since I'd really like to publish it before the 2 year anniversary of it being announced (which is like... only 6 months away). Don't know if that's realistic, but I'm going to try. I'm also intrigued to know we both wanted to be astronauts as kids! Space for the win 🚀👩‍🚀🪐 (With Indiana Jones a close runner up of course)

Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura - WIP Wednesday

I realised it’s been quite a while since I shared any updates on Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura (mostly thanks to work–in case you haven’t noticed by now, I’m basically married to my job, and it’s very needy).

Aaaanyway… in the spirit of the first WIP Wednesday of 2022, and in celebration of finishing the 5th chapter (which is actually now the 7th chapter, because I have never once written anything concise in my life, and having two random 20,000 word chapters in the middle of a bunch of shorter ones offended my sense of order), I’ve decided to share a bit about how it’s going, and another sneak peek.

In short, this thing is a behemoth. It’s proving to be hands down the most difficult story I’ve ever written. If I didn’t love the characters and world as much as I do, I would have smashed it into a million tiny pieces by now, set those pieces on fire, smashed them some more, then possibly ordered an exorcism for this entire project.

I have literally spent hours poring over Google Maps and Street View, and researching everything from haikus and local foods, to world famous buildings, to the intricacies of Japanese law, to world history and historical figures - both real and legendary, and honestly, just far more other shit than I care to recall (also because a lot of it would give away the story).

The scope of this thing is wildly out of control at this point. I’d hire a research assistant if I could, so I could ask them, “What types of cactuses grow in Joshua Tree National Park? How do you belay when rock climbing? Is there a map of XXX location so I can bullshit my way through writing it? What’s that Japanese legend about the rabbit in the moon again?” just so I didn’t have to do it all myself.

*Deep breaths*

All of which is to say, the writing is progressing normally.

If that leaves you imagining I write my stories in a flaming dumpster while telling myself “this is fine,” then congratulations… you now understand my creative process.

Anyway, I have about 72K words, and I’m estimating 110-120K by the time I actually finish. So including editing (noooooo), this story is probably still months away from being published. If I don’t smash my computer first…

On that happy note, here’s an excerpt:

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