Monotonia

Jingling. Metallic, uneven jingling. Restless winds, which kept thin silver tubes perpetually sounding in motion. Filling the glowing summer with their almost cacophonous melody.

Heavy eyelids opened in exhaustion, before revealing the hidden dark eyes to the burning glare of the midday sun.

This awful sound that tormented him so cruelly, while drowning out even the unreal buzz of the shimmering heat.

"Shit."

Almost reluctantly, he finally managed to sit up and gaze blankly into the garden outside the open patio door. Into the meticulously and neatly kept garden that was undoubtedly a huge part of the family's pride and joy, existing only to impress visitors. At the lazily rippling pond in its center and at the reeds growing at its edge, swaying uniformly in the shallow breeze. How soothing and familiar this eternal monotony was. How unbearable it felt.

Sleepily, he ran his hand over his tired face before pushing back the ebony hair over his shoulder and standing up heavily. He really had to get out of the habit of nodding off all over the place in this daze. If anyone caught him doing that, they'd end up accusing him of listlessness...

His fingers gripped the nervously sparkling wind chime vigorously, finally silencing it.

Tonight, Itachi truly couldn't forget again to finally rip the damn thing off his doorframe and stow it away somewhere no one would ever find it. Far too often it had magically reappeared at its place of origin - whether he wanted it to or not.

Once again, the black eyes wandered to the glittering pool in the courtyard. And despite everything seeming the same... something was different today. He just couldn't make out for sure what it was. Perhaps an upcoming thunderstorm...?

"And... and you're absolutely sure?"

The dark-haired man instantly froze in motion. His father's voice. Full of awe and tension.

"But of course. What is there to rely on these days if not personal recommendations?"

A stranger who seemed to have little use for objections of any kind.

"I... just can't imagine that... well..."

Itachi gave a toneless sigh. Oh no, not again. Not in this murderous heat.

The slender body winced, uncomfortably disturbed when his name was called. By all the gods, what had he done to deserve not even a week's peace? Not that he literally had anything better to do, but still....

"Yeah..."

The answer left his lips in an almost rehearsed obedience. Had he ever actually replied anything else? Ever resisted? Probably not. Was there even a point?

Silently he appeared in another door, which also opened to the garden and at first only saw his own shadow, which stood out against the light from outside.

He actually had no desire to look at the face of their next... client, who had obviously been lured here only by the family's unbearably good reputation - but at least he could still disguise that as politeness.

"Look, I understand your choice, after all Itachi's quota is one hundred percent, but his experience is still quite expandable compared to others and -"

"Wait a minute. That one?"

The voice of the unknown guest sounded almost outrageously disappointed. And yet it delighted the aforementioned deeply. Excellent, someone rejecting him was like winning the lottery.

"I had honestly imagined him more imposing. Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

Slowly, the dark eyes did lift now. Heavens, wasn't the guy at least going to hold back his indignation until the object of his displeasure had disappeared again? Nothing repelled him more than principals with miserable upbringings. And as their eyes met, he immediately understood that this charming sympathizer hadn't just accidentally lost his tone.

It took Itachi a second to somehow grasp what was sitting there in front of him.

Cross-legged, face propped up in one hand. The posture of a snotty teenager who had just learned that it was his turn to do the dishes today. What a painful contrast to the dignified resting patriarch beside him.

Jet black eyes that bore the full expression of disfavor, petulance, and almost presumptuous disdain that could only be found in a fully grown person.

Pitch-colored long hair, which, judging by its rumpled state, enjoyed rather little attention. Splendid.

The well-bred darling son had rarely felt such a need to turn on his heels and disappear into the countless corridors of the estate.

"But yes, he unquestionably lives up to his reputation, even if he doesn't necessarily looks like it yet! You'd be thrilled to see him in action one day!"

Could his father please just stop trying to make anything palatable to this - on closer inspection - shady character, too?

Was he really so eager to leave his poor firstborn alone with this paragon of loveliness for even five minutes? Sure enough he couldn't be serious.

"And he's... how old again?"

Was it really that hard to address the boy himself...?

"He turned twenty a few days ago", his maker readily provided, while Itachi slowly began to wonder whether they had enough ice cream left in the freezer. Not for a moment did he want to believe that anything meaningful would come out of this idiotic conversation here, and so he preferred to use his valuable time to plan the rest of his afternoon.

Especially when the now obviously older man slapped his hand onto his forehead.

"Twenty. I should have known there was a massive catch in there somewhere!"

Disparagingly, the stranger eyed him once more, seemingly not registering the hidden satisfaction spreading across Itachi's features.

Yes, yes, that's correct. Itachi was only twenty. So he was half a child, completely useless for whatever the gentleman was planning. Unfortunately, nothing came of them, a real pity, but there was nothing that could be done. He would surely find a much more suitable family member in this house, or even better, in another city.

The boy was already about to turn to leave, apologizing under some silly pretext and finally raid the ice supplies - when the guest's words starteled him.

"Well, if he looks so harmless, he's actually even more suitable. I'll just take him then."

No. No, no, no, his father couldn't be that cruel. With all his sense of duty, everything had to have its limits!

"Excellent! When do you want to leave?"

Once again, the black-haired man appraised his employee-to-be, and Itachi felt an icy chill run down his spine as he realized the malice in the other's eyes.

The guy was fully aware of how annoyed they were with him and his manners. And he... thought it to be funny.

"Oh, I appreciate spontaneity."

A frosty, unpleasant smile crossed the client's lips.

"I'll be back in an hour, and we'll be on our way. I'm sure the lad will have everything together by then, won't you?"

That damned old...

***

Although winter had not yet really retreated into the mountains, the sun shone unusually warmly that day. So warm and bright, one could almost forget that only yesterday it had disappeared for minutes in complete darkness. So warm and blinding that one could no longer deny spring was waiting just outside the city gates.

Countless people, workers and shepherds, nobles and servants, all flooded the streets because of this long-awaited spectacle, to enjoy at least hours in the illusion of a carefree existence, to dance in the first blossoms in the fields and to indulge in some amorous nonsense. No one could be unhappy or worse on a day like this. No one could escape the magic of this first awakening of all life.

Well, yes. At least no one who had the rather plain, average mind.

Madara had long since lost all sense of how long he had been standing here in the shadows, gazing absent-mindedly down at the city below his estate. For how long he had been resting here with his arms on a balustrade of his terrace, staring into the distance without actually knowing what he was looking for.

In much later times he would be said to have the poverty of any decent poet, but for that moment it was unmistakable for this man to be one of the richest people in this place. That he was leaning here on an immense fortune and could only afford luxuries others dared not dream of because of generations of inheritance: he was bored. So bored, in fact, that he hadn't been able to produce any sensible texts for weeks. So bored that all imagination had left him and nothing but malice and malicious verses filled his pages.

For him there were no worries about bad harvests, cattle-killing plagues, or other disasters. No joys over the blossoming and marrying of one's offspring, no unexpected happiness, no sudden blessings. Only the eternally uniform existence of a nobleman who felt called to higher things, but had no idea how to achieve them. Yes, not even what this higher aspirations should even look like.

For years he had sought the meaning of his existence in politics, until at some point he had realized that no one there was able - or dared - to follow his thoughts. For many he had been too radical and so he had finally withdrawn from these circles, deeply frustrated, to seek his salvation in the art of war. Which, however, had also come to nothing because of the current peaceful time. And finally only the poetry remained. Poetry, which he was no longer able to create appropriately due to a lack of inspiration.

There was no one who would have been his equal. No one who would have shared or understood his ideas or conceptions. No one to whom he could speak openly without fear of banishment. And so he could only watch himself every day as the emptiness, dissatisfaction and monotony slowly but surely poisoned him. How his mind sank into a state which was so dark that no one -

"Sorry to interrupt your musings, but there... is someone asking for you."

The black eyes did not even bother to look at the servant at first, who had just appeared almost silently beside his master.

"So?"

The householder's cool voice did not hide how little this news interested him.

"So the chairman did bother to come up the slope after all, to bother me with the death of his daughters? Tell him I'm busy and he should take his losses to someone else."

The clerk shook his head, apparently still puzzled by the request he was now being asked to pass on.

"No, it... it's a young gentleman who..."

The black-haired man involuntarily turned his head to appraise his subordinate questioningly now, after all.

"...wants to learn from you."

Madara's face now showed a similar surprise to that of the footman only minutes before.

"He wants... what?"

As the poet, after a few seconds of stupefaction, actually condescended to return to the interior of the house, its unexpected guest had barely moved an inch from the villa's threshold. Exceedingly patient and without any restlessness, he had leaned against the massive wall next to the mighty gate and stared indifferently into the deep blue sky.

The black eyes, which reflected the gliding clouds, testified to a rather calm to serious temperament and the carefully tied back, long ebony hair suggested a certain status.

As did the dignified but dismissive smile that slid across his features when the desired interlocutor truly appeared in the doorway and appraised him in obvious perplexity.

"I must apologize for my impertinent intrusion."

The strange visitor bowed his head with impeccable politeness, only further irritating the foul-mouthed writer.

"But one can no longer tread a path in this part of the country without hearing of your fabulous abilities. And there is nothing I would like more than to learn these talents from a master such as yourself."

Usually, by now at the latest, the addressed would have slammed his heavy wooden gates and chased the unusual stranger away with scorn and derision, but... something about this boy was so... incredibly elusive, so outlandishly different... that for the first time in his life, he did the opposite and invited his peculiar admirer in.