Naruto 1. Prologue: A New Way, Second Chance

**LATERALITY**

_I shut up the scream I left behind, and I don't have the courage to open the box. _

_I want to cling to our tender relationship, that at this rate will vanish into thin air._

—Laterality, Yanagi Nagi

* * *

_What do you wish for?_

Death was not glamorous. It was not tragic, nor was it the grand, dramatic moment Hollywood imagined. It was unfairly abrupt and immediate.

There was no time to think. No time to repent.

It wasn't like falling asleep. It wasn't like closing your eyes.

It wasn't even like the curtain falling at the end of a scene.

Death came like the crackling finale of a burnt-out light bulb, or the snuffing of a flame.

And then there was nothing.

_If I had a wish?_

_I want to do it again._

_I want to get it right._

* * *

There were two sides to everything. Heads, tails; life, death. Left, right; past, future.

Jenn could recall that, in her past life, many believed that death was a gateway to the next great adventure. Another _life._

_Oh_, if she could only see their faces when she told them they were _right._

The first time she became aware that her soul was not traversing the dark expanse of purgatory, or even possibly hell, where horrific cries of anguish surrounded her and claustrophobic walls squeezed her breathless, was the moment she opened her eyes.

It was bright—to a painful degree that made her flinch. The cries, the screams, continued, and large hands—hands of _giants_—passed her along, rushed her away, until she came to rest against a solid warmth. She could feel a thrumming heartbeat through the warm wall. Someone was holding her. Carrying her.

Nothing was clear. When she tried to get a feel for her environment, all she could see were blurry light streams dancing by and tan smudges like dabs of paint against a canvas—faces, she was certain.

There was the tang of blood. There was the familiar, unpleasant sterile stench of a hospital.

She was becoming aware of small, stubby limbs; the tiny digits stretching, curling around the blankets that swaddled her. The everything-too-small that corresponded to what she once was.

There was the familiarity of life.

This was the other side.

_This was her rebirth._

* * *

The world that resembled an impressionistic oil painting came slowly, slowly into focus. Blotchy faces gained detail; the setting was defined.

Jenn—no. _That_ was no longer her name, she concluded. Not in this life. In this life, she was only a girl.

The Girl came to realize that she spent most of her new, merely days-old life within the confines of a pink-blanketed perimeter that was no doubt still within the hospital—the stark traces of sterile disinfectant were still present.

Several faces had come and gone, lingered over her, confirmed her well-being, fed her, changed her…It was a bit humiliating to be so dependent, but it wasn't as if she could do it all herself. Not anymore.

These faces were the faces of kind, though anonymous, nurses—it worried her. Not once had she seen the expected, overjoyed visages of her "parents." Not once had she felt that familiar presence of "Mother." Had she been declined? Set up for adoption? Or, perhaps, were the parents no longer alive?

Mothers did pass away during childbirth, at times. As for fathers…perhaps she had been secretly conceived. Perhaps he didn't know of her existence. It wasn't an uncommon scenario.

The Girl did not know.

However, one day, that unmasked, ecstatic face she'd been hoping for finally came to meet her. It was a woman—Mother? No. _Not _Mother. She felt different. Smelled different. The Girl did not know this woman, and so she cried.

"Is she alright?" The woman—Not-Mother, queried in alarm as her eyebrows furrowed.

At the sound of the voice, The Girl's crying ceased. It was a familiar language—not her native tongue, not even of the same dialect of the second language that she was accustomed to, but it was a string she was able to grasp. A piece of the puzzle that was her new life.

It was Japanese.

"Is she alright?" was simply an approximation of what she could understand, guided along by the nonverbal tics the speakers displayed.

The Girl watched the woman's expression carefully, until it left her view and turned towards the nurse.

The nurse glanced over the edge of the bassinet and her eyes were wide with wonder. "This is the first time she's cried since her birth. She's a quiet one. I'm surprised."

"I see." Not-Mother's face returned to the child's view. Her eyebrows were still furrowed and a small smile graced her face, but her tone was nervous. The Girl noted that Not-Mother couldn't have been any older than herself—her _past _self. Possibly even younger.

"Please take care of her. If you need any help, or have any questions, feel free to consult us." The nurse reached down and gently cradled the girl-child within her arms, raising her from the bassinet and arranging her swaddle before nodding towards the other woman.

"R-right, of course. Thank you." Not-Mother took the small child from the nurse's arms—a little clumsily, excessively carefully, and gently set the crook of her arm beneath the young girl's neck. The Girl was glad that at least the woman was aware of how to properly hold a newborn. Again, it was slightly humiliating, but there was also a certain, primal comfort to being held so close to another person's warmth—safe, and guarded by another when she herself couldn't yet protect herself.

Yes, it was something she could vaguely recall from within the deep confines of her past, when she had been in this very same state some twenty-three years before. Childhood memories were tangled and ambiguous vestiges caught in between the realm of make-believe and did-I-maybe-dream-this, but the feelings that remained could never be mistaken.

The steady rhythm of being held by Not-Mother as she walked soon lulled The Girl into dreamland.

Though, before she departed, she distinctly heard Not-Mother speak the words that changed her life and defined her from that point onwards: "You're a brave girl, Namie."

* * *

Namie.

Not Jenn, not The Girl, but Namie. Her new identity.

From the small bits and flashes of information she'd received, Namie gathered that she'd been reborn into an Asian culture in which the language was very similar to Japanese. The architecture was also considerably Japonica, though in a somewhat old world sense. The world she was in now was a far cry from being as advanced as the world she'd known before.

The woman, Not-Mother, took care of her much in the sense of a nanny. She hadn't yet learned her name, but she was a constant in her life. A stabilizing pillar of support. As of the moment she picked her up from the hospital, Namie's world revolved around her.

Other than Not-Mother, a young blond child had occasionally entered into that small, closed world. Unrelated to Not-Mother, as she was far too young to have a child that age.

Immediately, Namie had felt a connection to the child—boy, or girl, she couldn't be certain. The child was at that age where appearance and voice could still be ambiguous, especially to her newly developed senses. Regardless of gender, she was certain this child was her older sibling.

When the child gazed over her crib, they did so in open wonderment. A mild curiosity that could only be sated by seeing her tiny form.

The first time their eyes met, a tender grin spread across the child's face. Namie found that her own mouth made an attempt to mirror the expression. Unable to properly execute the action, she instead cooed out loudly. The child was taken aback by the sudden cry, but when they were certain it wasn't the start of an oncoming fit and merely a jubilated shriek, their grin only grew wider. They extended their hand towards her, carefully, and Namie immediately latched onto their index finger with the entirety of her small hand like it was a lifeline.

Even if her parents were no longer around, she would never be alone. She _wasn't_ alone. This blond child was her blood, as she was theirs.

She hadn't valued her older sibling nearly enough in the past.

This time, she knew she would.

* * *

By the time Namie regained control of her motor functions and began practicing her walking motions—skipping past the crawling stage, because only God knew how much she wanted to grow up and properly take care of herself again without having to subjugate herself to the brunt of the humiliating childcare routine—she also gained perspective on where exactly she'd been reincarnated.

It was a world she'd expected only to exist in black-and-white print. In fiction. In comic books. Within the minds of great creators.

She realized it when she spotted a familiar hitai-ate on her Not-Mother's forehead, stamped with the insignia for _Konohagakure_. She realized it when she spotted a peculiar, but distinct, ANBU tattoo on her Not-Mother's upper arm when they were bathing together. She realized it, and accepted it without objection, when her Not-Mother used the henge jutsu during her hyper-involved live-action story times.

It was, undoubtedly, the world of _Naruto._

A year passed by, and Namie was able to associate names with the faces of her new "family."

Her young Not-Mother was named Taji. She'd seemed ever-present in the past, during the first few months of her life, but she eventually noticed that the woman's presence had dwindled. No doubt because of her status as an ANBU shinobi. Why she was raising her at all, she wasn't entirely certain. She couldn't recall the woman from the series.

During her absence, her reliable elder sibling took over the basic caretaker duties.

Namie didn't mind the humiliation part so much anymore. She was elated to have such a caring family.

What concerned her the most, however, was the identity of her sibling. The blond child was a young boy that Taji called Namikaze-kun.

_Namikaze Minato._

There was only one that Namie was aware of in the entirety of the story, so it could be no one else. Her older brother was none other than _the_ Namikaze Minato. The Yondaime Hokage. Nowhere near his future status just yet, but a living legend all the same. She couldn't help but feel a grand swell of pride for her older brother already.

…And an equal amount of despair.

Namie hadn't been fully caught up with the series since her teenage years, having only gotten partway through Shippuden and catching bits and pieces of the story from friends, forums, and social websites as time passed, but she did at the very least remember that, on the day Minato's future son would be born, his life would come to an end. So, too, would his wife's.

_Uzumaki Kushina. _

On the day this revelation struck her, the cogs and wheels in Namie's head began to crank slowly—turning, turning.

_Why, _she wondered,_ was I given a second chance in this world, in this family, in this particular time, if _not _to change the status quo?_

She'd been born into an extremely opportune time period—though wrought with two wars, it was filled with events whose outcomes she could heavily influence if she tried hard enough, because like _hell _she was going to just accept the limit death had placed on her precious new sibling.

It was only a matter of where to begin.

* * *

**A/N:** Here I am posting this on impulse while being sleep deprived, so I hope there's no glaring mistakes. I can't promise you I'll see it through to the end, but I do have quite a bit of the story planned out as of today and it's my current focus. I think it goes without saying that this idea has been inspired by all of the other amazing SI reborn fics out there. I mean who can resist messing with the storyline? I'm having fun with it so far, so I hope it's at least entertaining.

Thank you for reading!


	2. One: Adjusting, Perspective Shift

**A/N:** I feel I should mention that the first bit here briefly mentions the circumstances of Namie's birth and may be a bit triggering. Just a heads up! Full notes at the end of the chapter.

* * *

**Part I**

* * *

Being only six years old, Namikaze Minato could not recall another time in his life when he'd felt so hopelessly alone. He could not recall another time when he'd felt such a crushing sense of despair.

However, on the flipside, he also could not recall a time in which he'd felt such a strong sense of responsibility and relief because of the revelation that he was _not_ going to be alone.

On the day his mother and father died, his younger sibling was also born.

A chain of events that were directly related.

The war had only recently broken out—it was nearing its one-year landmark. Already, it was turning out to be nearly as grim as its preceding war. Murmurs were spreading that it would soon grow into what would be called the Second Shinobi War.

It was relatively safe in the center of the Fire Country at this point, but borders were weak. All able-bodied shinobi were called into active duty to defend allies and the land that supported them.

As it was, Minato's father had been one of these soldiers. He'd lost his life all too soon during a border skirmish—one that had pushed back the opposing factions, but resulted in heavy losses on their end as well.

He'd died defending the honor of his country, but in return left alone a very pregnant wife and very young son.

When she received the news, the stress was too much for Minato's mother. The severe emotional trauma induced labor much sooner than was anticipated. Her yet-unborn child—a girl, a wonderful little baby girl she'd been so eager to meet—was slated for birth almost two full months later. No one was prepared for this, but it couldn't be stopped.

Heavy complications arose during the girl's premature delivery Her mother wasn't ready. She wasn't in a state to calm down, to be calmed—no, she was a grieving widow and unprepared single mother. The child was taken straight from the womb, and her mother was left in a state beyond saving.

Almost immediately after the forced "birth," the mother succumbed to shock and passed away.

All dreams of a happy, perfect fairytale family had come to an abrupt end.

On that day, not only did Namikaze Minato become an orphan: he also became the only living family of his tiny baby sister.

He was all she had, and she was all he had.

* * *

Three days passed until Minato was able to lay eyes on his baby sister. In that time, a silent memorial was held for the shinobi lost in battle and his mother's funeral had taken place. It was a quick, quiet affair, almost like a fleeting dream. Like most young children, he was unable to fully comprehend the meaning of the loss—only felt that hollow emptiness that was brought about by the absence of his precious family.

He'd cried. He'd cried and entire day and night, but no more. He wanted to appear strong in front of his sister, so she wouldn't cry either. One day, he knew, he would have to tell her about where their parents were. Then, they could cry together.

For moments, all he did was stare, without saying a single word. Minato had always been a relatively quiet child, one whose emotions were difficult to read, and it had worried Taji.

But, finally, he did speak.

"She's so small. Is that—_normal_, Taji-san?" The blond boy asked the young woman standing beside him, turning his face only slightly away from the glass window his fingertips were pressed against. His eyes remained on the small, wiggling form of the infant with dandelion-puff tufts of blonde hair.

He didn't know this woman very well. She was young, late in her teenage years, and had been trained under his father when she was a genin—before any time he could remember past mere hazy recollections. He _could_ recall her being present at one or two family dinners along with her teammates, so she must have felt a stronger sense of connection than he could manage. She'd been taking care of him and watching over his new sister since the day his parents had passed away.

To keep either of the children from being sent to the orphanage's care, she'd arranged for Minato to obtain an apartment, as he was now attending the Academy, and she herself had pushed for legal guardianship (if only temporary, until Minato came of age) over the children.

It hadn't been a dying wish, but both of the Namikaze parents had firmly expressed that they didn't want their children raised in such a way if anything were to happen to them. Taji and her teammates, as well as anyone who knew the couple, were aware of this. As the responsible member of her team, and the only one close to the family that had no extant relatives, Taji had taken the task upon herself.

The proposal had yet to be cleared, but she had been informed that it had a high chance of being approved. Under certain conditions, of course. If, for any reason, she was unable to provide proper care be it due to her job or personal issues, the girl-child would be turned over to the orphanage until, if she so chose, she entered the Academy.

"It's perfectly fine, Namikaze-kun." The brunette bent down to the young blond's level and peered into the nursery. Despite her early birth, the child appeared healthy—at least, the nurses hadn't mentioned any irregularities. She was out of her comfort zone and had little to no knowledge about childbirth and related procedures. She'd trained as a medic nin before being recruited by ANBU, but her area of expertise was that of a general practitioner. Perhaps she would venture into neonatal territory, if she was accepted as the children's legal guardian. "There's nothing wrong with her. In fact, we can take her home within the week." She managed a smile, even though he didn't see it.

"What's her name?" He asked suddenly, albeit quietly.

Taji started slightly, caught off guard by not knowing. The label that hung over the child's bassinet read only "Namikaze." No one had been around to name her. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "…I don't know. She doesn't have one yet."

Minato's eyes widened a fraction as a small smile quirked the edges of his lips. "It's 'Namie.'"

"Namie?" Taji echoed, tilting her head in the child's direction.

The blond nodded. "Yeah. Mom," he paused here, only momentarily, she noticed, but then pushed forwards, "talked to her sometimes. She called her 'Namie.' Sometimes it was Aoko, sometimes Sumire. It was Namie a lot more than that, though."

A gentle smile spread across the woman's face. "Then, Namie it is."

* * *

The days passed. The seasons changed. Before Minato knew it, an entire year had gone by.

He'd kept a watchful eye over his young sister the entire time, using up his spare moments between classes and training to do so. She was a fast learner, already bumbling about on her own two feet. Sometimes she was content to simply sit on the floor and fidget with toy kunai and playing blocks, but other times she half-toddled, half-skipped through the apartment at such a pace that she became a challenge to keep up with.

He could recall that one, heart-jarring moment in which she'd somehow managed to haul herself up onto the windowsill and quite nearly fell through the gaping opening—from three stories up. She'd seemed quite unperturbed by it all, as if she simply went for a look at the surroundings and hadn't at all mortally endangered herself.

After that, he and Taji made sure to properly baby-proof the home.

* * *

By two years, Namie was already semi-fluently speaking, though her very first word had come some few months earlier, and was relevant to Minato.

("Mii," she'd shrieked, waving her chubby fingers towards her older brother.

"'Mii?'" He'd parroted, pointing a finger towards himself blankly, though with a faint twinkle in his eyes.

"Mii." She'd insisted, puffing out her childish chipmunk cheeks and nodding as her eyes lit up like the sun-dappled sea.)

It was around this time that Minato thought to teach Namie how to read and write. He'd already mastered basic kana, and was progressing smoothly with kanji (his writing scores were the best in his class, actually, but he wasn't one to brag).

He set a scroll with the girl's name scrawled across it down in front of her as she lounged on the floor, stacking piles of colorful rubber shuriken on top of each other.

It seemed like child's play to any outsider, and they would most likely never know that it was her improvised version of the Tower of Hanoi puzzle, if such a thing didn't exist in the world. She was steadily approaching the minimum number of moves required to solve this particular version.

When something new entered her field of vision, the small blonde girl turned her full attention towards it. Her thin eyebrows drew together as she gazed over the characters written, traditionally vertical, on the scroll.

な

み

え

It was her name in hiragana. _Namie._ Naturally, she knew this. If her brother could reach into the inner workings of her mind, he would see the exasperated mental eye-roll and he would realize that she almost certainly had a better grasp of this language than he currently did.

Minato watched as his sister's curious eyes swept across the text. She gingerly reached out to trace the characters with her fingers—not correctly, of course. She was simply following the squiggly and diagonal lines. Suddenly, her gaze shot up to meet his own. "Mii," she asked levelly, with a nigh untraceable hint of sarcasm in her tone, "what say?"

Her speech wasn't broken and childish on purpose. It was unfairly difficult to regain usage of an infant tongue: fluid speech was still many months to a year out of her reach.

A fond smile crossed his face as he pointed to each individual character from his position on the other side of the scroll. "Na," he touched the first, "mi," the second, "e," and finally the third. Then, he raised his hand and pointed in her direction.

"My name!" She chirped, waving her arms about excitedly. She glanced between the scroll and her brother's face, beaming. "What yours?"

Smile never faltering, he took up the ink brush and wrote out the characters for his own name beside hers.

み

な

と

"Mi-na-to," he pronounced, pointing to each character yet again.

Namie traced these characters as well, and nodded with a small hum. "Same," she noted, pointing to the characters their names shared.

"Ah, you noticed." A look of mild surprise crossed the blond's face. Recognition of character patterns wasn't expected of a child her age. Especially when they weren't in the same sequence. He had classmates who still struggled with such things.

It must have run in the family.

* * *

Sometime after this, Minato took Namie on her first outdoor venture. His class was given the day off from lecture, so Taji tasked him with picking up groceries from the market sector while she was away on a short mission.

The girl could barely keep still, once her feet touched ground. It was as if she'd entered a brand new world, curious to every sight, smell, and touch. Every hitai-ate that flashed in the sunlight caught her eye; weapon holsters held particular fascination for her; nothing escaped her notice. However, she didn't blatantly approach others and barrage them with questions like young ones were prone to do. She only observed.

Her rampant scurrying elicited a strong urge of overprotectiveness within her older sibling, so to end her free reign, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders.

From her new perch, she'd gained yet another perspective. Curiosity was renewed.

Once she was tired out by information overload, the girl rested her hands on her brother's head and tried to lean forwards to catch his eye. "Mii, where we go?"

Minato shifted his hold on her legs—she wasn't heavy, but he was worried she would fidget and fall if he wasn't careful—and gazed upwards. "The market. Taji-san is making katsudon tonight."

"Katsudon!" Namie chirped, grinning. Then, not but a second later, her attention shifted. "Ohh—what that?"

The older blond patiently tolerated his sister's curious inquiries and provided her with explanations as they walked along, despite the fact that this new role as a makeshift tour guide doubled—maybe even tripled—the time it would have taken to go shopping normally.

It was worth it just to see the joy it brought the small girl.

"Namie," Minato called gently to catch the girl's attention as she swiveled around to sightsee. When she stooped to catch his eyes again, he continued. "Do you want to know where we live?"

She simply stared, for a moment. Her attention was strangely focused. After a moment, she nodded.

"This village is called Konohagakure. It's within the Land of Fire." He was hesitant to add on the last bit of information, as it was still much too soon to go into a geography lesson with the child. It was even too soon to explain what shinobi were. Perhaps when she grew closer to Academy age. He would have to do his best to abridge the explanations if she further pried, as she was prone to do.

"Konohaga—oh." The girl's recitation of their village's name was cut short as yet another interesting sight caught her attention. Her eyes had gone round in surprise and her mouth hung open slightly. It wasn't often that something could render her speechless. Minato stopped walking, followed her line of vision, and immediately spotted what had caught his sibling off guard.

It was hard to miss something so vibrant, after all.

It was the fiery red hair of his classmate, Uzumaki Kushina.

Namie still hadn't made a peep. Her eyes were transfixed on the other girl.

They were standing a good distance away, out of immediate notice, but they were still close enough to see that the girl wasn't alone. Minato could vaguely recognize that the two boys with her were also from their class.

It looked like Kushina managed to attract trouble even when they weren't in school.

Namie made a somewhat startled gurgle when one of the boys tugged at the redhead's long hair. Then, she tangled her fingers in her brother's spiky hair and gave a slight pull, as if emulating the action. "Ah—_ouch_—Namie?" He reached up to coax her into letting go, fearing that maybe she'd picked up a bad habit, but she immediately released the hold once her point was made.

"Mii, why you not help?" She demanded, lips pulled into a pout.

He glanced back towards the rambunctious scene wistfully. Namie was about to pull his hair again when he remained silent, but was distracted by a cry of pain that came from the group. Kushina had lambasted the boy that touched her hair, and knocked the other to the ground when he attempted to avenge his friend.

"Because she doesn't need it." Minato readjusted his hold on the young girl's legs and continued on.

Namie kept her eyes on the scene, following the wild movements of the redheaded firecracker, until the oscillating crowd blocked her sight. She absentmindedly smoothed out the patch of Minato's hair she'd mussed, keeping to a pensive silence.

Those words provided a new perspective.

* * *

**A/N: ** Aaaa thank you all so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites! Your feedback and support means a lot to me. Also, please don't take it personally if I don't respond to your lovely reviews-I'll really only do that if there's a comment that needs addressing, or a question that needs answering. Just know that I do read every one and I am grateful for receiving them and I will probably tell you so at the end of each chapter.

This time period is a little hazy with the details and dates since not much is really revealed about it, so I did some research from various sources outside the manga to pull together my own timeline which this story and its events are based around. From this point on, if anything I mentions seems grossly out of place, or if there is a specific date I'm unaware of that I should use here, please don't hesitate to tell me. And I am taking liberties with a handful of certain canon characters that lack background information because why not.

As always, thank you for reading!


	3. Two: Developments, The Wheel Turns

Namie's plan was multifaceted—but it was contingent upon learning when certain events would take place and getting a grasp of the current timeline. As a toddler, it was difficult to obtain this information on her own. She'd determined that there was nothing she could actively do until she was of Academy age or older. In the meantime, she worked on constructing a mental map containing all of the world information she was aware of.

The Sandaime Hokage was in office.

The second war was no doubt in effect—eavesdropping on conversations and catching bits and phrases of gossip in passing had proved fruitful. This meant the Sannin were still within the village as a whole—she wasn't certain they'd gained their reputation yet, however.

Minato was attending the Academy with Kushina. At this point in time, their relationship was undetermined—yet she still earned his attention, if the marketplace incident was anything to go by. She wouldn't be getting kidnapped until a while after they became genin, at least.

Kakashi and his generation were either not yet born, or extremely young.

'_Where will it go from here_,' she asked herself, picking at the bright, porous skin of a mikan orange thoughtfully. Her mental timeline of the series before her death was only partial, but she knew for certain what would main events would occur up to that point. She'd clearly divvied up what she knew into three time periods: before Naruto's birth, after Naruto's birth, and Shippuden.

In chronological order, it was more or less: the formation of the legend known as the Sannin and the end of the second war; Tsunade leaving the village with Shizune; the beginning of the third war, the Kannabi Bridge incident, Rin's death, the end of the war and her brother's subsequent promotion to Hokage. The marriage of Minato and Kushina, and then the birth of Uzumaki Naruto.

Then, their deaths.

There was so much more to cover, mainly involving Orochimaru and Danzo, but Namie found it was difficult to consider the future past that detrimental moment. It was a mental roadblock.

When anyone encountered a roadblock, it was only natural to find an alternate route.

Thus, the initial step of her grand scheme began to form: to prevent the deaths of her brother and his future wife.

There were two directions she was actively considering.

The first: prevent Minato and Kushina from ever developing a relationship that would lead to marriage and a child. This option mad her leery, for the sole reason that it could mean the prevention of the main character's birth. She wasn't confident enough that he would be born under different circumstances, to a different bloodline, if she interfered. Then, too, this option begged the question about just what a main character truly was. Certainly, Naruto had been the main character when this world was only a manga series—he was the Child of the Prophecy. It was an acceptable fact. But every living human was the main character of their own story, as the saying went. In essence, there were no main characters in real life. In the end, it came down to this: what would become of the world if she denied it one of three possible children of the prophecy?

She didn't want to dwell on it.

This led to the second option: preventing Obito's death at the Kannabi Bridge. Keeping him away from Madara. He'd played an active role in bringing about Minato and Kushina's death by going after the Ninetails. If his intent was removed, Namie assumed the attack could be postponed. It was a much cleaner approach, though considerably more difficult to achieve than the first. For starters, she would have to find a way to be present, to ensure that he did not die. Second, Uchiha Madara was an independent, alien entity who could have a contingency plan—or several. This intervention of hers might have little to no effect on what outcome that man foresaw and she was not so arrogant to believe she could match the scheme of a villain she knew very little about.

Not only that, but in order to reach a level where she could accomplish_ anything_, she had to become a shinobi. She wasn't even sure if she had sufficient chakra stores for that.

Or the necessary ability to control it.

"Namie?"

The tiny blonde jerked in surprise and quickly glanced up to meet the eyes of her guardian. "Taji-san?" She mimicked the questioning tone.

"Are you having trouble peeling that?" The woman pointed at the small fruit and quirked up an eyebrow in amusement.

Namie returned her attention to the orange and balked when she spotted the several nail marks and dents in its surface. An embarrassed grin spread across her lips. "Yeah! Ehehe. You do it please?"

The brunette sighed, but held out her hand in pity. "Hand it over, little one."

Namie relinquished it gratefully—or at least, she tried. The moment she tried to release it, the fruit stubbornly clung to her palm.

"Ah," Taji interjected in surprise, at the same moment Namie uttered a baffled "huh?"

The older woman leaned forwards and held her hand towards the fruit before pausing, then glancing at the girl with awe. "You're not—you can't be doing that on purpose, right Namie? There's…there's no way."

Namie squinted in puzzlement, then shook her hand to free the fruit. It remained glued to her skin.

Taji continued reaching for the orange and held her hand open beneath it. "Here," she muttered, "just let it go. Don't think about it."

Her eyes were still round in wonder. There was something in her tone that Namie couldn't read.

Ah. It finally came to her as an epiphany. This was chakra.

But—she hadn't even been _aware_. She'd always assumed chakra would be something tactile within her body, like a muted stream of liquid, or a faint current of energy. This had to be unintentional, some freak occurrence. She wasn't even four yet. Wasn't it too early to become aware of her chakra system? She hadn't even—

As panic roiled at the edges of her consciousness, the orange finally, abruptly detached from her hand and fell into her guardian's awaiting palm.

The woman observed the fruit thoughtfully, rolling it between her fingers, to examine the trace of chakra left on it, no doubt.

Namie held her breath.

Taji looked up with a contemplative smile, and began to peel the orange. "Namie…do you want to learn how to be a shinobi?"

The girl didn't waste a moment to respond. "I want to!" It was a step towards increasing the success rate of her plan.

Taji nodded. "I thought so. You're a bit young, but I suppose we can start with the basics. Do you know what chakra is, Namie?" She was young, indeed, a few months shy of turning four. She wouldn't be entering the Academy for the next couple of years, but it did no harm to prepare her for what was to come.

The woman had never taught a child before, but during her genin days, she'd assisted her teammates with various training techniques. As a kunoichi with a focus in medical ninjutsu, she could even help her get a firmer grasp on her chakra control—which, if continued unchecked at this point, could endanger her young life. To be able to use chakra at such a young age, even if it was a fluke, must have meant her reserves were already considerably developed. More so than hers at been at the same age, and most non-clan children, at the very least.

Well, sometimes anomalies like this cropped up. Her parents had both been slightly-above-average shinobi, both at the jounin level, so it wasn't surprising if their children turned out to be equally or more talented than them.

Along with that, with how well Minato was currently doing in school, Taji felt it wasn't unfair to expect the same quality from Namie.

She didn't think much on whether or not she should influence the child with such a dangerous career path, either, because her older brother was the one who provided her with plastic kunai and shuriken toys. If that wasn't a subtle indication that he wanted his sibling to follow the same path as opposed to the safer civilian route, then Taji felt she overestimated the blond boy.

Namie shook her head, though she sat up straighter in her chair.

Taji split the orange apart and set the half-sections on the table between them. "Everybody has chakra," she began, abridging her explanations for a young mind. "It's what keeps us alive, and also what makes life possible. " She indicated the two halves of the fruit. "It's made up of physical and spiritual energy—the body and the mind. Your core," she pointed towards the girl's belly, "houses the chakra. But it circulates all throughout the body. It's also the driving force behind shinobi as a whole. Without it, well…nothing but standard hand-to-hand combat would be possible." Here, she paused, and her eyebrows furrowed. She wondered if perhaps she should have simplified her explanation a bit more for a young mind.

Namie was staring down at the orange and blinking placidly.

Taji wasn't sure if she'd heard her at all, or just tuned her out when it got too tedious to listen. "But, well," she continued on, "regulating its usage is the most important thing. If you use up too much, you could really hurt yourself. But if you don't know how to control it, you can never master ninjutsu and genjutsu. Most people only have a base understanding of this, but some, like medics, rely completely on their chakra control."

"Like you, Taji-san?" The girl asked, glancing up curiously with a small smile playing at her lips.

Taji nodded. "Like me." She hummed thoughtfully. "What you just did, with the orange—most kids don't learn to do that until sometime in their Academy classes, or later. It's called _channeling chakra_. When done correctly, you can make objects stick to certain areas on your body."

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Namie nodded, expression focused. A moment later, though, it was replaced by an apologetic grin. "Kinda understand. Still a little confused." She reached for half of the orange and began nibbling on it, smiling absently.

The older woman was already set on teaching her how to use her chakra. However, she had no intention of becoming a young prodigy. Drawing extra attention (especially from undesirable characters) was out of the question and would impede her plans. It wasn't as if she was special, anyways. If she was able to learn to control her chakra at a young age, it would only be due to her adult mentality. Physical accomplishments, however, she could attribute to her malleable young body. In any case, relying on the subterfuge of a normal kunoichi seemed ideal for her at the moment.

Taji picked up the other half of the orange and bit into it. "Well, that can't be helped. We'll work on it. Maybe Minato can help out, too. How would you like that?"

Hearing her big brother's name, the girl's face lit up. "Really?"

"Really. He can tell us how the Academy handles things like this. He's already pretty good at controlling his chakra, you know."

A slightly smug smirk crossed the girl's face. "Of course."

* * *

Chakra control was a greater challenge than Namie had expected. The energy wasn't something she could feel, not physically. It was more natural, and inherent, like the blood's circulatory system. Known to exist, but impossible to see or touch. But, similar to being able to feel a pulse, when it was channeled to the surface, between chakra points, chakra was vaguely tactile. She could feel an added weight, like something was definitely there. She supposed that, the more she channeled, the greater the weight would be.

Unlike Taji had hoped, she was nowhere near talented at controlling it. That time had definitely been a fluke.

Because chakra wasn't something Namie could feel, visualizing it and directing it was nigh impossible. Consistently holding it was much the same.

("Match it with your breathing," Taji had coached, "imagine pulling it up when you inhale. Then direct it when you exhale.")

'_Balderdash_,' Namie concluded.

Eventually, Taji provided her with charts that depicted the chakra system and all 361 tenketsu points in the body. Minato had even shared what his instructors had lectured on the matter and attempted to provide advice.

("How do _I_ do it?" He'd mused, humming in thought, "well…I'm not sure how to explain it. For me, it just comes naturally.")

In theory, it was simple. So basic that _any_ child could do it. But the transition from a textbook description to real-world application had always been one of Namie's struggles.

If _this_ way didn't work, and _that_ way didn't work, then she had no choice but to find an alternate method.

In the midst of her struggle with chakra, Minato successfully graduated from the Academy and became an integral part of Team Jiraiya.

It wasn't until sometime past her fourth birthday that Namie was able to succeed.

She'd thought back to the first time she'd channeled chakra, and dissected the situation until she'd determined what caused it.

During that time, she had been deeply immersed in thought, blind to the world around her. She hadn't been thinking about chakra at all, past a brief consideration of it. It had been an idle, absentminded event.

And she was holding onto an orange the entire time.

From this, she formulated the idea that she had to be in a completely focused state, while grounded to the object she wished to channel her chakra towards. But in the sense of being focused, she didn't need to concentrate solely on channeling her chakra, as was expected.

Her problem was that she was _too_ focused, and stressing herself out, preventing the chakra from flowing where it was desired.

When she applied this thought in practice, letting her mind wander on another matter and only briefly lingering on the chakra activity, she found one of her plastic kunai sticking to her fingers. She tried again, this time pressing the kunai to her forehead, and a moment later, it dropped away and clattered to the ground.

The third time, it also failed.

She learned that mental balance was key, but finding equilibrium was difficult. If she let her focus shift too far towards the chakra, some internal conflict led to the action's failure. If she didn't think on it long enough—while still keeping it brief—it would also fail.

The method made little sense, but it was all she had to work with. It was a start.

* * *

Minato had been consumed by training and completing missions with his new team, Namie noticed. Perhaps she exaggerated. He was home for dinner most days, but retired almost immediately afterwards out of sheer exhaustion. Breakfast time was the only part of the day she interacted with him, if he didn't have a day off, so it was only slightly better than never seeing him at all.

She was starting to miss him. He was a constant in her life, after all.

Even Taji's presence was dwindling. Namie figured that, once she enrolled in the Academy, her guardian would most likely return to full-time ANBU duties. For now, it seemed, the majority of her work was at the hospital.

At times, Namie found herself tagging along with Taji when she had to drop by for paperwork duties or emergency calls. No one seemed to mind her bringing a child to work—a few of the nurses did the same, it seemed, so it must have been a frequent occurrence.

"Ah, you brought Namie-chan today, Taji-kun?" One of the older nurses fawned as she bent down to the girl's level and held out a small bag of sweets.

"I did." The brunette woman's lips pursed as she saw her ward accept the candy eagerly—she'd been trying to destroy that sweet tooth of hers—but she said nothing and turned a blind eye.

Namie liked this woman. Not only because she gave her free candy (who could hate someone who gave _free_ things?), but because she reminded her of her late maternal grandmother. Her name was Chieko, she was a retired chuunin kunoichi, and had three children. One was a civilian, one was lost to war, and the other was a special jounin who taught at the Academy. She apparently taught young girls how to become proper kunoichi. In fact, that very kunoichi's daughter was hanging around the hospital under the watchful eye of her grandmother.

Chieko insisted that they meet.

"Oh, you get to make a friend, Namie. Isn't that nice?" Taji encouraged, eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled. The one thing that the young girl's life lacked, she knew, was influence from peers. When Minato had been around, she didn't give it much thought. As long as Namie had another child present, it was fine. But since her brother was busy with his shinobi life, it was time that she branched out and formed her own network. It was all a part of growing up.

Namie cast only a brief glance at her guardian—and received a small wave in return—before the older woman led her away towards a small, cozy lounge room.

"Suzume-chan?" Chieko called as she opened the door and poked her head in. When she spotted the girl, she stepped into the room and ushered Namie along. "I've brought someone to meet you!"

Namie let her gaze wander across the room, which seemed for all the world to be empty, until she spotted a small brunette girl sitting on the floor in front of one of the couches in proper seiza form. Or rather, she spotted her _hair_ first. It was wildly curly and frizzy, and cropped close to her face, like a mini-afro. Probably more likened to a tangled ebony birds nest sitting atop her head. Even with a cute hairpin, it couldn't be tamed. Her eyes were small and dark, but noticeably sharp. They narrowed slightly when Namie came into her field of vision.

With grace, the young girl rose to her feet and approached.

Namie mentally whistled, impressed. The girl, no older than herself, was wearing a traditional kimono and conducting herself with so much poise that she could have appeared at least two years older.

In contrast, Namie was wearing a long, hooded blue shirt that doubled as a dress, with shorts underneath. She didn't care much for posture, and was standing comfortably, in a slight slouch. The picture of laziness.

There was no fun to be had with this one, she realized.

"Suzume, this is Namie-chan, Taji-kun's daughter—"

Hearing the word used so blatantly, the blonde girl jumped. But only slightly. She'd never thought of Taji as her _mother_, much less as a guardian. She was more like an older sister. All the same, hearing that title in reference to her and Taji caused faint warmth to rise to her cheeks.

"—and Namie-chan, this is my granddaughter, Suzume." Chieko finished.

"Pleased to meet you." The dark-haired girl bowed, not hesitating in the slightest, before rising and catching Namie's eye curiously.

Namie managed a small nod, and fiddled with the front pocket on her shirt. "Hi."

"I have to get back to work now, girls. Have fun." The older woman grinned as she left the room and quietly shut the door behind herself.

It took all of Namie's self-control not to roll her eyes. Certainly, the let's-make-friends-with-everybody phase had been enjoyable during her youth, but the second time around it was tedious and—quite honestly—painful. She would probably never see this girl again in her life.

Suzume seemed to sense her disinterest—or perhaps she felt the same—and returned to where she was sitting before. Namie lolled after her and took a seat on one of the couches, fully intending to munch on the candy Chieko had given her before Taji had a chance to snatch it away. Then, she caught sight of what the girl was occupied with.

'_Memory?'_ Namie mused, tilting her head slightly. '_How boring. What a stuffy kid.' _

She wasn't that skilled, either. She could finish a game ten times faster than this girl. But Namie figured she was being unfair, comparing an adult's mind to a child's.

"It's that one," she supplied blandly, pointing towards the card nearest to the girl's left hand, when she seemed to be having trouble matching a pair.

Suzume shot her a wordless glance over her shoulder before ignoring her suggestion. When she tried to match the card, got it wrong, then tried Namie's choice to find that she was correct, her shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.

Namie's lips quirked in a slight smirk. She intervened yet again. "Try the one to the right."

The third time she tried this, it seemed the girl reached a breaking point.

"Why don't _you_ just play, since you're apparently so good?"

Namie shrugged and shook her head. "There's no point, if I'm so good. Right? Suzume-chan?"

The girl frowned, and if Namie didn't know better, it sounded as if she also growled. '_What happened to the composed ojou-chan?'_ She derided, leaning forwards on the couch.

"Then, rock-paper-scissors." Suzume returned, lips set in a firm line.

"Huh?" Namie breathed, leaning her chin on her hand.

"I'm challenging you, Namie-_chan_." Her tone held the same light mocking that Namie used before.

"Don't wanna." Namie declined. Playing with children? Please.

The girl's eyes bugged in outrage. "You—" she stammered, "you are truly dislikeable!"

Namie blinked. Then, she flopped back on the couch and picked up her bag of sweets to dig through it. To her, this girl was a faceless stock character. She couldn't recall her name from the series, and she wasn't a part of her small family, and she wasn't particularly nice, like her grandmother. Interacting with her had only been a venue for entertainment. Beyond that, she was just some brat nobody.

Suzume did not take kindly to being ignored. Her hands were curled into fists, and her shoulders were shaking. Even if the other young girl had such bright, smooth golden hair, it didn't give her the right to act so downright obnoxious. Angry tears welled up in the girl's dark eyes.

When a hiccup-sob met her ears, Namie looked up. '_Ah, jeez,'_ she sighed, '_she's crying.'_

The blonde glanced contemplatively between the crying girl and the bag of candy in her hands. With a slightly constipated expression, she held out one of the sweets.

Just as soon as she'd proffered it, the candy was knocked from her hand. Namie's jaw unhinged in shock.

"Disgusting," Suzume commented, fiercely wiping the back of her hand across her wet eyes. "Your fingers were all over it."

"But—" Namie spluttered, leaning over the armrest as she searched the ground for her fallen candy. _It was one of her favorites._

"You—you—you…" Namie's voice caught, and she turned to the girl was a glare. "Don't waste food!" She hissed, holding her hands towards the girl and flexing them as if she wanted to strangle her.

"Candy is not _food_," was her only response.

Namie's glare melted into a glower. "I don't think I like you, either, Ultra Perm."

Suzume's expression mirrored the other girl's. "Then we're in perfect sync."

It was the start of a beautiful…rivalry.

* * *

**A/N:** Another day, another chapter. There's not really any set update schedule yet, I'm just posting what I have because a small portion has been written already and there's about 5 more chapters ahead of this currently. Once I catch up and upload all of what's already written, I'll probably settle into a weekly-or-so routine depending on how often inspiration strikes.

To the guest reviewer mentioning the hiragana from last chapter: it was very much intentional! I'm aware that for us readers most of the characters' first names are expressed with katakana, but I based this on the fact that, in-universe, Naruto signs his name to the toad summoning contract using hiragana. I don't really recall if the others write their names any other way, but even then, I'm going by the system that Japanese people tend to write their names in hiragana or kanji unless it's foreign, which would then use katakana. But thank you for pointing that out and providing the katakana just in case I hecked up somewhere!

Also to the other guest reviewer talking about how Namie might influence Minato and Kushina's relationship: Aww that was really cute! I can totally picture that happening, but who knows how it will turn out when the story actually reaches that point, haha.

PS Suzume is actually a canon character. Does anyone remember her? She only showed up briefly and is extremely minor, but in the series nevertheless! Taji is, too.

And as always, thank you all for supporting and reading.


	4. Three: Heart-to-Heart, Enrollment

Namie had never given much thought to the fact that Minato had lost his parents at a young age. She'd never met them, so despite the fact that they were also her parents in this life, they were virtually perfect strangers.

Not only that, but she was of a mental age where she was self-sufficient. The absence of a mother and father that weren't the pair she originally knew wasn't detrimental to her development.

There was Taji, of course, but it was difficult to accept her as a proper mother figure considering their unseen age gap.

For her brother, it was different. He'd lost his mother and father the same day she was born. They were people who must have been dear to him, yet she hadn't heard him speak a word of them, look even remotely despondent, or shed a single tear.

He had to feel pain, and loss. He'd always come off as soft-spoken, albeit determined, but damned if his emotions weren't difficult to read.

"Brother," Namie spoke up one day (by now, at the age of five, she was much too old to call him by that other, childish nickname), "what were Mother and Father like?"

It was one of the rare days in which he was not together with his team, and Namie accompanied him to a training field for morning practice. While she struggled with chakra control exercises, he trained all-around. From what she could tell, his skills were fairly well-balanced. Sometimes, he even imparted some of his knowledge and gave her a head-start on learning practical techniques that the Academy would cover.

Aside from helping her with chakra control, his instructions were fairly straightforward and easy to follow. She'd learned how to form the basic hand seals, as well as a few combinations for beginner level techniques. It was tricky transitioning between them rapidly, but her dexterity was not poor and was steadily increasing with practice.

He also breached the territory of taijutsu kata, ranging from rudimentary defense to methods of disarming an opponent. Nothing particularly complex, but useful all the same.

Upon hearing that overly-formal manner of address, Minato grimaced slightly*****. He made to protest the title, as he usually did, but when she continued speaking, his expression became controlled and unreadable. He returned his kunai to its holster and slowly approached the girl, crouching down on the ground beside her when he was close enough. His hand dropped atop her head, and she winced slightly, as his fingers gently mussed her hair out of habit. It was sweaty, and a little grimy, but she didn't mind.

"I was wondering when you would ask that."

Namie looked up into his eyes only momentarily—he had a shinobi's knack for veiling his emotions, so there was nothing to see there. Her gaze wandered up to the barely-tarnished metal of his hitai-ate. It was a stark reminder that he was an official ninja of Konoha now, just another soldier among many. Faced with the threat of danger and even death on a daily basis. She suppressed a grimace and pursed her lips. "And?"

A moment later, he rose to his feet and extended his hand towards her. "I think it's time we head home."

The girl furrowed her brow when he refrained from elaborating, but planted her small hand in his own as he helped her up. "Lunchtime?" She muttered, to which he nodded in reply.

He didn't mention the subject again until they were back in their apartment. While she headed to the kitchen to prepare some rice and leftovers, Minato hurried along to his room.

Namie found a loose photograph being held in her direction when he returned.

It depicted a small child with a shock of yellow hair, a smiling woman with matching hair, and a man with sandier-toned hair. He looked some few years older than the woman—by at least five years. His face was scarred (one near the eyebrow, another on the chin), and so were the woman's bare arms. Though light, they were the clear mark of shinobi.

They were all three smiling; all happy.

There were distinctive dimples on the woman's face. The man had crow's feet crinkling the edges of his eyes. The woman's eyes were bright brown, but the man's eyes were blue.

The two siblings had inherited their mother's hair and their father's eyes.

Namie's heart squeezed strangely as she realized she was unable to feel an emotional connection to these people. All she could do was observe the basic facts.

"You're there, too, Namie." Minato said quietly.

One of the woman's hands rested lightly across her midsection.

Namie's fingertips lightly grazed the image. A pang of guilt struck her as she considered the possibility that, if it weren't for _her_, the woman could still be alive. So, too, could the man. If it had taken two lives in exchange for her reincarnation into this strange world, then their blood was on her hands.

She didn't belong here, after all. But she also couldn't deny the possibility that, if she wasn't herself, the child within the small baby bump on the woman's stomach could be anyone else.

In fact, every nerve within her was screaming to deny the relationship that existed between them. Even if she could, at times, see a hint of the woman's dimples in her left cheek when she looked in a mirror.

_This_ was who she was, now. It was her duty to learn more about them. The man who had given his life to protect his village, his family—his beloved wife, son and unborn daughter. And the woman who had carefully raised an unborn child within her womb—who would have raised her daughter with as much care.

She felt obligated to honor their memory.

"Their names were Sei and Harumi. Dad was a jounin instructor who handled fieldwork and dealt heavily in traps. Taji-san was part of his genin team," he seemed to add the last part as an afterthought, but there was brief hesitation in his voice that Namie didn't miss. "Mom was a special jounin who worked in the field, too, before I was born. Then she transferred to the aviary. I think…probably…the scars are from the hawks."

Finally, some emotion began to color his words. Reciting the information elicited a fond thoughtfulness in his tone. Though, it was still somewhat mechanical, as if he'd practiced it before. She wondered if he'd really been waiting for her to ask about the two.

"What happened to them?"

Minato was silent for a moment. "…Dad fell to the enemy during battle, but his efforts contributed to Konoha's victory. Do you remember when I showed you the Memorial Stone?" She nodded. "His name is inscribed there."

The girl looked towards her brother's face. As she expected, his eyes were shining with unshed moisture as he stared nostalgically at the picture.

It was unnecessary to ask, so Namie felt somewhat regretful when she pushed, "and Mother?"

Their eyes met. He seemed to be debating as to whether or not he should tell her the truth. But, her brother never did lie. Though gentle by nature, he did not sugarcoat the truth. Not even to his child sister.

"She died giving birth to you." He was straightforward. "But," he quickly added, "that doesn't mean it was your fault. They say it was because of the shock. Hearing about Dad's death pushed her into labor and you were born two months earlier than expected." His words were spoken rapidly.

Her heart twinged in a painful way. She'd been consumed by that thought only seconds before, and he was already absolving her of responsibility for the tragedy.

If only he knew.

Unbidden, warm tears pooled in Namie's eyes. She tried to keep them at bay, but they overflowed. Sobs rose in her throat and she clamped her trembling lips shut tightly.

If he knew she was an impostor, would he treat her the same way?

Would he blame her for their parent's deaths?

He didn't know. _Couldn't_ know. So, she would hold that fear deep inside, and never speak of it.

Minato was the only person she trusted in this world. Her only true _family_. The only one who truly _mattered._

If he abandoned her, she would be alone. Lost.

"It—it wasn't your fault, Namie," he repeated hesitantly, kneeling down and putting his hands on her shoulders. His eyebrows were drawn together and he looked unsure, as if he wished he could take back what he'd said. There was a slight tremble in his voice when he spoke again. "There was a chance you could die. She allowed them to perform a dangerous operation—she did it to protect you. She gave her life to ensure that you _got_ one. So," his voice caught, "don't look so sad. Don't blame yourself. She—she wouldn't want that..."

When tears began to trickle down his cheeks, Namie flung her arms around his neck.

He was much too kind. Much too forgiving.

If only he _knew._

* * *

Namie vowed, from that day on, that she would never let Minato cry over his precious people ever again.

No matter what turn her plans took, she would always act keeping him in mind.

And so, she trained harder. She had to become strong, for him. She no longer cared about remaining under the radar and avoiding the label of genius. She would give her heart to hard work and become as strong as her body and mind would allow, and if it meant she would face trouble along the way, then she would handle it.

A year passed, and finally, at the age of six, the girl entered the Academy.

* * *

"Are you sure you have time to walk me to the Academy, Brother?" Namie asked as she swiftly wove her short hair into twin braids on either side of her head. Taji was the one who usually fussed over her hair care, but she was busy with medic duties on the warfront. She'd wanted to be present on Namie's first day of school, but it couldn't be helped.

Minato paused in rushing back and forth preparing his tools—he was also slated for a team mission that morning, only shortly after she was due at the Academy—and mussed his sister's hair fondly. "I'm sure. I may not be able to stay for the ceremony, but you're not going to school _alone _on your first day, Namie." A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Your bangs are getting long. Want me to cut them so they don't get in the way?"

"Can you?" Namie mused, raising an eyebrow. Again, that was Taji's area of expertise—she handled trimming both of their hair.

"Well, Taji-san isn't here, so I can try?"

She pinched a few strands of her long bangs and held them out in front of her eyes. They were getting to a point where they hung messily in front of her eyes. It would annoy her sooner or later, especially when she was going to have to stare at teachers and blackboards for most of the day. "Ah, 'kay. Just a little, though."

With a nod and small smile, he retreated to the kitchen, then came back a moment later with a pair of scissors. He carefully gathered her bangs, and then snipped. One of his eyebrows quirked. He made another cut. Then another. And another.

Namie pressed her lips firmly together and clenched her fists as she realized, with nagging dread, the problem. It was one she'd encountered many times in her previous life—trying to cut her own bangs, and getting them _even._ When she saw the several chunks of her hair floating to the ground, she instantly knew what was happening.

Before she could protest, the damage was already done.

Minato noticed it, too. He rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly. "I think…I may have cut a bit too much. Sorry, Namie."

Namie picked up the small hand mirror she was using to braid her hair earlier and felt her breath catch in her throat. '_He's made me a laughingstock. On the first day of school, even.'_

Though they were, at the very least, out of her eyes, her bangs were now straight and chunky, only a little ways past her hairline, sticking up like stiff, stringy pieces of straw. Her fingers combed through the short mess ruefully. If she had been any other child, true to their age, it would have made her cry. As it was, she was strong enough to withstand any possible teasing—plus, she didn't particularly care what others thought. She was tempted to laugh, too, at the ridiculous cowlick.

Actually, she did. Her voice tremored with a small chuckle as she grinned at her worried sibling. "It's fine. Thanks, Brother." She could never stay mad at _him_.

Minato started in confusion, then relaxed, looking relieved. For a brief moment, he was afraid she may burst into tears. Either that, or hit him.

Girls were sensitive about their hair, after all—if Kushina's reactions were anything to go by.

"Really," she continued, as if sensing his distress, "they'll grow back!"

Finally, he smiled. "Right." It was a good thing she was so mature for her age (either that or he feared she was passive aggressive. He strongly hoped it wasn't the latter). She would be fawned over by the teachers for sure. His eyes wandered towards the clock. "We'd better get going so you're not late for the entrance ceremony."

* * *

Namie surveyed the group of two-dozen-or-so fellow students loitering around the front of the Academy after she wished Minato good luck on his mission and hurried him away so he wouldn't be late.

She'd arrived just as the gathering began to filter indoors. From what she could see, it was a ragtag crowd, filled with parents and children of various levels of interest. No one in particular had stood out, and no one's appearance was familiar. There were likely no major characters among her generation, as she was certain that Team Kakashi and its contemporaries were still too young to attend.

At most, there were minor members of major clans mixed into the fray, and a stray cousin or two of known canon families, but all in all she surmised that her classmates were nothing impressive.

It wasn't until she approached the end of the queue that she realized she _had_ met one of the students before.

"Oh. You." Namie acknowledged, observing the girl's messy hair. It was a wonder that had escaped her notice before.

Suzume turned slightly at the voice that sounded beside her, then did a double-take and stumbled, going momentarily slack-jawed at the sight of the other girl's hair. A slight smirk pulled at her lips, and her eyes narrowed in amusement as she prepared to speak—but then decided against it and simply cleared her throat.

"The silent treatment, Ultra Perm?" She set a hand on her hip. '_No, rather, I think she's doing her best to appear proper in public. Ladies don't start fights, apparently.'_ There was more she had to say on the matter when the girl kept to her silence and snootily avoided her by hurrying forwards, but something bumped into her side and nearly sent her pitching over before she could say a word.

Namie quickly regained her balance and spun around to admonish the person who shoved into her, but whoever it was had already moved into the building. "Hey," she called, following after the kid and grabbing his shoulder. "You're supposed to apologize when you run into someone. Who raised you, a pack of wolves?" When the boy in question turned to face her with a confused look, revealing the red, fang-shaped marks on his face, she realized that accusation wasn't far off the mark. '_Ah, an Inuzuka.'_

"No. It was dogs." The Inuzuka replied without a trace of sarcasm. He grinned proudly.

"Huh…" Namie squinted, uncertain if that was meant to be taken as a joke or not. "Well, are you gonna apologize?"

With a shrug and a toothy grin, he offered an insincere "Sorry!" before turning and hurrying down the hallway.

'_Kids.'_ Namie sighed, glaring after him. When she realized she was the final straggler in the area, she quickly followed after her classmates.

The entrance ceremony was held in one of the larger lecture rooms. It wasn't so much a ceremony than an information session with little fanfare. It was rushed, and kept brief, and the Hokage wasn't even present—but given that they were in wartimes, the quick and efficient display seemed appropriate.

The new students were told in a broad sense what was expected of them during their enrollment period, what they would be learning, and what would be required of them to graduate into genin. Scrolls and manila folders were passed around, the chuunin instructors made their introductions, and at the end the large group of children was split into two. It was all bland and mind-numbingly boring to Namie (she wanted to get into the _action_), so she paid little attention up until the moment her name was called.

Much to her displeasure, she'd been placed in the same class section as the Inuzuka, and Suzume.

* * *

**A/N:**

*****By "overly formal" it's meant that Namie's addressing him as "aniue" which approximates to "honorable older brother" instead of the usual "nii-san/chan" or something less formal. I was hesitant to include the term in its original sense, so it's been replaced simply with "Brother" in all future instances.

The Inuzuka mentioned is an OC, and I have a couple more that will be appearing in the future. Also, if there's any mistakes anywhere please don't hesitate to point them out. I edit this myself and am beta-less at the moment and I'm only human so things slip past me at times.

Thank you for your support!


	5. Four: Looking Up, Looking Down

"Hey, Ayase," Minato called to his team's kunoichi with a vaguely troubled expression, "can I ask you something?"

Team Jiraiya was currently engaged in a C-rank mission that took them past the gates of Konoha, but not quite near any warring zones. It was only a recovery mission, typically only garnering a D ranking, but the possibility that enemy nin could crop up had bumped it up a level. Apparently, a merchant had been ambushed on the remaining thirty miles to the village and his cart was ransacked by rogues. He'd fled, and filed a recovery request with Konoha's administration when he arrived. Even if the goods were damaged or missing, he at least wanted his cart back. It seemed an absurd request, but the man had the money and resources to have it done.

The dark-haired Hyuuga kunoichi glanced over her shoulder curiously. It wasn't often that the blond boy was the first to speak casually with either of his teammates—especially with such an odd question. Most of the time, he only interacted with Jiraiya. It was the same for both teammates, too, really. If they weren't discussing mission parameters and tactics, they were not a social group. "Sure. What's up?" Came her vaguely suspicious response.

Minato's eyes drifted towards the girl's hair. She wore it in a topknot, but it wasn't messy and there didn't seem to be a hair out of place. Obviously, she put a great deal of care into it, even if it was arranged in a neat, minimalist style. "Girls care a lot about their hair, right?"

The brunette's hand shot up to touch lightly at the top of her head. It was a weird question. But then again, even though he was nice, and more adept than she was, the blond was sort of weird, too. "Um, usually. I guess. Why?" He suddenly looked somewhat guilty. It was a new expression on that face, she noted.

"I thought so." He scratched idly at his cheek. "If something happened to it that made it look weird, you would be upset, then."

Ayase stopped walking. For a moment, she considered that maybe a bird had pooped on her head when she wasn't paying attention. Either that or there was a bug in her hair. Either _that_, or it was a thinly veiled threat from the boy—but he wasn't the type to do that. "Huh?"

The boy sighed. Then, reluctantly, he confessed his troubles. "I cut Namie's bangs too short."

_Oh._ The girl's shoulders, which had tensed up a bit before, drooped in relief. She resumed walking. He was talking about his sister—she hadn't yet met the girl, but she'd seen her from a distance. "Oh my. Just_ how_ short?" He indicated the length against his hitai-ate and the Hyuuga grimaced.

"That's what I thought. But she said it was fine. She wasn't upset at all."

"I definitely would be." Ayase muttered. She'd been incredibly distraught when her older sister cut her hair into a style that was much too short and boyish for her tastes when she'd been younger.

Minato frowned thoughtfully. "This morning, she was quick to get rid of me when I dropped her off at the Academy. And she didn't hug me like usual, so…I think she's mad after all. What do I do?"

By now, their other teammate noticed the gap in the group's formation. He slowed his pace and waited for the others to come within hearing range. "What's up?"

Ayase shrugged. "Just some sibling troubles, Ginta."

"Egh," the civilian-raised boy grimaced, hunching his shoulders. He was an only child and couldn't relate to that situation at all, but he did have an insatiable curiosity and penchant for being nosy, so he pried. "What'd you do, Minato?"

The dark-haired girl snickered at the blind implication that it was the blond's fault, and said boy's eyebrows drew together slightly. Ayase was about to reply when it took Minato a beat too long, but their leader's call caused them to look forwards.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Jiraiya had noticed when the formation began to bend, but there was no immediate danger in the area. He let the kids be because it was a rarity for them to be interacting. Sure, their teamwork was decent and they were a good group of genin—particularly that diamond in the rough, Minato (rookie of the year and a genius from a non-clan shinobi family—he hadn't been disappointed yet)—but they lacked a social bond. The past year-and-a-half they'd spent together hadn't developed in that direction yet. Maybe it was because he lacked the time to arrange team events outside of missions, since he was often needed on the frontlines as one of the Sannin, but it seemed the war was finally winding down—it had been, since his team's fight with Hanzo a handful of years ago. He wouldn't be surprised if it ended within the year.

Then, he would have the time to properly raise his team and take them to the chuunin exams. They were certainly ready.

He cast a glance over his shoulder and came to a stop as he waited for his students to catch up.

Ginta grinned, showing a gap where one of his front teeth was missing, "Sensei! Minato messed up!"

Ayase swiftly whopped him on the back of his head before quickly elaborating, "He just wants to know how to apologize to a girl, Jiraiya-sensei."

"Oh! Girl troubles, huh?" Now _this_ was his area of expertise. He set his hand on the blond's shoulder and nodded thoughtfully. It probably had to do with that hot-blooded Uzumaki girl—he'd seen how often his student watched her. It was an obvious crush. "It's something every man encounters, sooner or later." He said sagely. "So, just how badly did you mess up, kid?"

Before Ayase could intercede, Minato answered. "I tried to cut Namie's hair and really messed it up."

Oh. This wasn't just about a girl—it was his sister. Jiraiya was suddenly out of his comfort zone. He glanced towards the sole kunoichi.

Seeing the way her teacher's goofy grin dropped, Ayase sighed. It looked like it was up to her after all. "If you really want to make it up to her, get her a cute hair ribbon or something that'll take attention away from the problem area."

The three males stared at her.

Ginta was the first to speak. "Is that why you wear your hair like that, Ayase? To take attention away from your ears—" his question was met with another whop to the head.

'_Boys_,' she groused.

* * *

Once the entrance ceremony came to a close, the students were dismissed for the day. They were to be present for class at eight in the morning, prepared with the materials that were listed in the handout packets.

Aside from sparring matches and practical skill lessons, Namie knew that the next four years were going to be the most tedious part of her young second life. Interacting with children…being lectured on rudimentary subjects again (but the history lessons may prove interesting)…and having to sit through long hours in a schoolroom.

She'd hoped her school days ended the moment she graduated with a bachelor's degree.

To that end, she wondered just how many lessons she would be able to skip.

After leaving the Academy grounds, Namie took to wandering around the village since there was no one to go home to.

It wasn't often she found herself with the opportunity to do so. When she turned five, Taji and Minato both deemed her old enough and responsible enough to go out on her own, but she never traveled far since there was nowhere to go. All of what she needed was within their apartment.

She never realized just how huge Konoha was.

Behind the Academy loomed the Hokage Mountain—she was accustomed to seeing it with up to five faces, but the fact that it only contained the first three Hokages served as a reminder of when exactly she was. What she planned to do.

Her travels had taken her closer to this area, but upon actually viewing the monument, she stopped to take in the sight.

In her previous life, she hadn't gotten around much. She was practically a hikikomori in her own town. If she ever had the chance to see Mount Rushmore, she imagined it would be something like this. Large-scale and impressive stone faces, with accurate, proportional ratios to their human counterparts. Her inner art-appreciator couldn't help but stare in awe.

If she didn't currently have a goal in this world, she would want to seek out the sculptors (she wondered, were they civilians? Shinobi with a side job?) and beg for an apprenticeship.

But, that wasn't who she was anymore. With some regret, Namie tore her eyes away from the stone visages and continued walking. It wasn't until she neared one of the local parks that another interesting sight caused her to stop in her tracks.

That scarlet hair was as effective as a flashing neon sign.

_Uzumaki Kushina._

She, like Minato, now wore a hitai-ate around her forehead. Namie wasn't sure what the woman's ranking had been past being the village's jinchuuriki for the Ninetails, but at the very least she was a genin.

And, just as the last time she'd set eyes on the girl, she was fired up over being teased about her hair.

'_Jeez, do those kids ever learn?'_ The blonde scoffed to herself, putting a hand on her hip as she watched the scene. '_No, rather, maybe they just like her.' _Even though she'd been a kid once before, she still didn't quite understand how their minds worked. But, schoolyard bullying between opposite genders was a form of affection, wasn't it? A twisted one, but…some kids were just stupid.

Whatever it was, the boy who was hassling Kushina was suddenly grabbed, and hoisted into the air—

Kushina arched over into a backbend, carrying the boy in a backwards arc and slamming him into the ground upside down—

'_Holy shit. That was a German suplex.'_ Namie's jaw unhinged. '_Or whatever it's called here. But…damn._ _I want to learn that!'_ Unbeknownst to the girl, she'd spoken this last part out loud. She only realized it when the redhead's eyes darted towards her, still set in a glare from the encounter with the annoying kid.

Upon seeing the small blonde child, Kushina was forced to do a double take. She looked strikingly similar to that girly-boy she'd attended the Academy with. But, no. This kid was way too young, plus she was actually a _girl. _Not only that—what was with her bangs?! Kushina was the last person who would tease a girl about her hair, of all things, but…poor kid.

"What was that?" The redhead asked sharply, swiping a hand across her nose aggressively.

Namie replied almost mechanically, "Teach me that."

"_Huh?_" Kushina replied blankly, glare shifting into a confused frown. What a _weird_ kid. Didn't she know who she was? Plus, what kind of child just wandered up to someone after seeing something violent and asked that?

Namie crossed her arms as she surveyed the girl. She was a firecracker, there was no doubt about that. It was strange, when she thought about it. Just how did she manage to get herself kidnapped when she had so much energy and strength?

The child wasn't perturbed by her behavior at all, Kushina noted. She couldn't deny that she was flattered someone was taking such an interest in her and not being scared away, but that look in her eyes was a little unsettling. She put her hands on her hips in a semi-reprimanding manner. "No way, kid. I don't think your parents would like that." Her eyes skimmed over the familiar-colored scrolls in the girl's arms. "Don't you have a class to get to? Scram!"

'_She's so prickly.'_ Namie laughed internally as her lips pulled back into a small grin. '_Hell if I don't like her a lot more than I thought I would, though. She's…cool.' _

"What's your name, onee-san?"

"Eh?" Kushina stopped short again, taken by surprise. "Uzu," she started hesitantly, but then pushed forwards and declared her name loudly, "Uzumaki Kushina! Remember it, kid! I'm gonna be this village's first female Hokage, dattebane!" She thumped one of her fists against her chest and grinned proudly.

Namie barely kept herself from gasping. She covered her mouth with both hands. '_So this is who Naruto takes after!'_ The similarity was clear, down to the verbal tic. '_I certainly wouldn't be against having her as a future sister-in-law, but,'_ Namie glanced towards the girl thoughtfully, and felt a guilty pang in her chest.

She shook her head to clear those uncertain thoughts and smirked. "So, are you gonna teach me that move or not, Kushina-onee-san?"

The fiery girl opened her mouth to speak, but then quickly shifted gears. "Hey, wait, what's with that? Don't you need to give your name, too?"

"I dunno. Do I?"

Ah. What a brat. Kushina grit her teeth and scratched at her head. "It's…you know, manners." She clarified. '_Actually, the kid should've given her name first,'_ she corrected herself. '_Just who raised this girl?'_

"Then, it's Namie." The younger girl conceded.

"Namie-chan, huh?" The older girl muttered. She was impressed by the way the girl was holding her ground. Most others would have been scared off by her gruff demeanor. If she didn't suspect otherwise, she would have pegged the child for being an oblivious idiot. But she was pushy and arrogant, and it sort of rubbed her the wrong way. Who liked being bossed around by a kid half her age?

But…it was the first time a kid had openly showed such interest in her and admired her violent attacks. And she hadn't made fun of her hair—at least, not yet.

Kushina crossed her arms and stepped towards the girl as she came to a decision. When she stopped a mere foot away from the child, she didn't shy away, and merely stared up at the redhead expectantly. "Okay, fine. But, under two conditions." The genin held up two fingers and sent the girl a stern look. "One: don't _ever_ make fun of my hair. And two: it's onee-_chan_, not _–san. _Got it?"

The blonde slowly nodded, and smiled brightly. "Got it!"

The redhead opened her mouth to respond, but by then the boy she'd beaten earlier was starting to come to. Both of the girls cast a glance towards said genin and then looked back to each other. "Aha, well—meet me here tomorrow after your classes are done, okay brat? See ya!"

The girl was already charging down the street before Namie could blink.

Said girl also evacuated the scene, but at a much slower pace. It all seemed so surreal. She'd gotten caught up in the redheaded firecracker's hot-blooded pace, but everything was winding down and reality was setting in once more.

'_Did I just…become the Red-Hot Habanero's disciple?'_

* * *

The idle chatter between teammates didn't last long, no, they weren't that kind of group. For there to be any sort of conversation, there had to be a point, a goal, a question to be answered. Naturally, they passively listened to their leader's constant babble, sparing only few responses, but mostly Team Jiraiya remained silent and vigilant—with the occasional, upbeat humming from Ginta.

They continued the rest of the mission in proper formation, keeping on the lookout and counting the moments until they arrived at the site of the merchant's abandoned cart.

It didn't take much longer until they located it.

Jiraiya had them stop a few kilometers from their destination as Ayase scanned the area with her Byakugan for any signs of the bandits. It was a quiet day and no others were around, it seemed. Only the broken-down cart sat within the area, nestled into the trees growing at the edge of the pathway and tilted at a slight angle, beat-down and abandoned.

"Who'd want a shabby thing like that back?" Ginta grumbled, scratching at his head in confusion.

"Who knows. Some merchants get emotionally attached to their wagons." Jiraiya shrugged, beckoning the team forwards. "Though it would be considerably cheaper to just purchase a new one if the damage was extensive. This one's still useable, if not worse for the wear. It's probably been in the family for years or something."

"Whatever the case, there's _nothing_ in it." Ayase observed, pursing her lips. "The bandits really cleaned it out."

"Wonder what the cargo was," Minato muttered. It was strange. Something seemed out of place, but he couldn't figure out just what.

Ginta was the first to approach the cart and he peered inside once he was close enough. "It is, it's really empty. Nothing left behind. Don't you think the bandits would leave useless stuff behind?"

"Unless whatever was being carried wasn't useless." The blond added.

"_Ginta,_ don't get so close," the Hyuuga girl admonished her teammate before he could put hands on the wooden sideboards. "There is something weird about it, though. Right, Jiraiya-sensei?"

"Hmm, well, in most cases, the thieves would probably just keep the cart to transport their loot." The sannin rubbed his chin as he eyed the object in question. "So the fact that they left it here at all is odd."

"There doesn't seem to be any sign of struggle." Minato noted as he surveyed the grounds. "The wheel tracks are faint now, but they lead directly to the current position. They're not smeared at all."

"There's no footprints, either!" Ginta piped up.

"Well, if they were shinobi-trained bandits, there wouldn't be," Ayase pointed out plainly. "But the merchant described them as rough-and-tumble types. Barbarians. So that is something to consider." She glanced up at the white-haired jounin. "We need to check it."

"Traps, huh…?" Jiraiya mused, catching the dark-haired girl's eye. As usual, he was pleased with their teamwork and analysis. Ginta was the one who typically—and recklessly—jumped in headfirst without considering danger, but Ayase was the natural-born leader and mother hen that kept him in check. Minato usually caught what the others didn't notice and filled in the gaps where the others lacked.

Naturally, he'd been aware of the strange nature of the request since they'd been chosen for the mission. For a merchant to want his cart back after being attacked, there had to be something considerably important about the vehicle. Otherwise he would be happy to have escaped with his life and leave everything else behind. "Did you see anything with your doujutsu earlier?"

Ayase shook her head. "No, but…seeing through objects is a little difficult sometimes. And if there's a barrier seal—a really clever one—I wouldn't be able to tell at all."

"I'll check it for a seal and remove it if it's present." Jiraiya confirmed.

"Why would it be trapped if it's empty?" Ginta complained, looking doubtful. "I think we should just take it back and get it over with."

The moment Jiraiya moved to examine the cart and the civilian boy smacked his hand against the sturdy sideboards, distracting Ayase, Minato yelled out to alert them. "_Sensei!_ Enemy sighted at two o'clock!"

The next instant was chaos.

A dozen shuriken whistled through the air from one side, and half a dozen kunai shot by from the other, followed shortly by a strangled cry from Ginta.

The Toad Sage quickly deflected the shuriken and rushed forward to meet the greater threat while simultaneously shouting orders at his three genin to handle their end.

After repelling the airborne weapons from the proximity of his teammates with a kunai, Minato turned back and hurried towards the second source of pandemonium. "What happened?"

Ginta wheezed and writhed in the dirt beside the wagon. Three kunai were embedded deeply into his chest and oozing red, and one pinned his shoulder. Ayase crouched over him, intent on removing the blades and healing what she could. "_It _was_ trapped._" She bit out as her hands flared up with the gentle green chakra of the Mystical Palm. "I _told_ him not to touch it!"

"The kunai—?"

"It looks like one hit a vital area. I—I'm not sure I can do much, Minato." There was an uncertain tremor to her voice.

Minato cast a glance towards their sensei, who was engaging the enemy—the lone enemy—and briefly scanned the area to ensure there were no more surprises in wait.

"There's no one else," Ayase assured him, Byakugan activated. "It's just one enemy. But," again, her words failed her as she scanned her teammate's body, noting that one kunai had punctured his lung and no amount of her level of healing would help it.

"Just worry about Ginta, Ayase. I'll handle any stray attacks." The civilian boy let out a wet cough and blood trickled from his mouth. "He's—"

"I'll do what I can!"

They'd faced injuries before, they'd faced danger—but none that had ambushed them as suddenly as this. Ginta's life was hanging within the balance and they were reacting the best they could—yet there wasn't much that could be done.

Minato crouched in a defensive posture, kunai gripped in hand, as he guarded his teammates.

However, Jiraiya made short work of the enemy, quickly knocking him out of commission. He hadn't aimed to kill the man, because he could provide useful information on this strange mission, so he opted to take him back to Konoha for interrogation. He quickly summoned storage toads which consumed the enemy nin as well as the strange cart for quick transportation back to the village, and as soon as that task was set he rushed to his genins' side.

His jaw set as he scanned the scene. It was painful to look at. He'd witnessed countless casualties and injuries on the warfront, but these…these were just _kids._ Genin. _His_ genin. He was responsible for them and to see one in such a wretched state was borderline traumatizing.

Ayase's hands were bloodied from extracting the kunai from her temmate's body and applying pressure to keep certain wounds shut. Her Mystical Palm had done all that it could, but no one on the team was a skilled medic. He quickly intervened, taking a roll of bandages from the Hyuuga girl, and set to work on applying makeshift tourniquets. "What—what's the damage?"

"Ginta's lung was punctured badly. We need to get him to the hospital right away, Sensei." Minato was the one to speak—Ayase was shaken terribly and nothing the blond could do would comfort her. Though he was usually collected and calm, his voice trembled.

Once the boy was in a state to be moved, Jiraiya carefully hefted him up and into his hold. "We'll run. Help Ayase and keep an eye out for all of us."

Minato nodded. "Right."

* * *

The aftermath of the mission was a mess.

The enemy ninja had been thoroughly interrogated by T&amp;I. The merchant who requested the mission was taken into custody and questioned as well, but cracked quickly and easily.

It was discovered that, due to war times, illegal weapons trade became a popular occupation and a certain group of civilians within the village engaged in such dealings. Apparently, escort missions were too expensive to file and carrying arms was a cheaper option. In order to introduce the weapons into Konoha without any trouble, a scheme had been hatched to have local shinobi bring the cargo past the gates since they had the privilege of skipping inspection.

It could have been clever, had the situation been handled differently. When ninja from the border towns, where defenses were weak, caught wind of the newly risen trade business, they took it upon themselves to obtain the weapons for use in the war. For this reason, merchants had taken to concealing their stocks within the hollow spaces of their traveling carts and covering them with seals and traps to prevent theft.

Belatedly, because of these circumstances, its rank had been promoted to B.

Ginta's status was touch-and-go the moment his team returned him to the village. He was immediately carted to the emergency room for treatment and, after hours of surgery, was placed in recovery and watched over carefully.

It was a grave injury and, even if he managed to pull through, there was doubt that his lung would ever completely heal.

Minato and Ayase intended to remain at the hospital, at their teammate's side, but Jiraiya strictly insisted that they return home to rest for the time being.

The sun had sunken well past the horizon when the blond arrived at his apartment. Taji was still away on her mission, and as usual, Namie was waiting up alone for her brother to return.

"Brother!" The little blonde girl chirped as she greeted him at the door. Her countenance was cheerful, but there was a crease between her eyebrows. "I thought you would have been home by dinner."

Minato smiled apologetically as he entered the house, and set his hand upon the girl's head as he passed her by. "Sorry, Namie. We," he paused, but only briefly, "ran into some trouble."

Though he looked exhausted as he usually did when he returned from missions, the look on his face was forced, she noticed. He was always so good at keeping up a neutral expression that this change was unsettling. Whatever had happened with his team, it was definitely something to worry about.

Namie's eyes followed her brother's form as he removed his shoes and ambled down the hallway. His shoulders were tense.

'_Something is wrong.'_ The smile dropped from her face as she stepped after him a little hesitantly. "I warmed up some leftovers, but—they're probably cold again by now. I'll heat them up again?"

"Thanks, Namie. But I'm going to take a bath first. I'll eat when I'm done." He mentioned gently, casting her another strange smile as he continued down the hallway, towards the bath.

It was then that she caught sight of the dried flecks of blood on his clothing. _'Something happened. What? What happened?'_ A painful sting of curiosity and uncertainty nagged at her, yet she couldn't find the courage to outright confront him. Instead, all she could manage was a vague smile of her own. "R…right. I'll wait for you." Without another word, she left him to his own devices and wandered to the kitchen.

Namie's hands trembled as she tapped down the heating button on the rice cooker.

She knew. She knew that being a shinobi was dangerous business. People died in the line of duty constantly—and they also killed. Friends, comrades, enemies. They always said that the first kill was a defining moment in the life of a ninja, and witnessing a first death was, as well. Something detrimental like that must have occurred, for him to behave in such a way.

'_There's nothing I can do.'_ Namie thought grimly. _'I don't want him to get hurt, but…I can't stop it.'_

She knew what he would become, what he would grow to be—encountering difficult and awful situations was necessary to build character. It wouldn't end here.

'_This is the kind of world I live in now. The kind of world we live in.'_

If only Taji were home. She could handle this situation; she was experienced in the matter. But Namie? She was a civilian at heart and an Academy student in the present. She'd never killed a person in her two lives and she'd never even seen someone die.

'_I didn't think something like this would happen so soon. And here I was, so happy that I'd met Kushina…I wanted to tell him about it.'_ Her brow furrowed. _'I never even think about what he might come across during his missions. I guess I put too much faith in Jiraiya and—maybe I'm a little naïve. I'm too naïve.'_

It wasn't until the two children were sitting down to eat that Namie was able to say what she wanted.

"Did something bad happen, Brother?" She asked in an undertone, barely over a mutter, as she picked at the rice in her bowl. "You—" her voice caught. When he'd met her gaze, blue eyes locking with blue, he briefly looked as if he wanted to cry.

'_No, don't. Please don't cry.'_ Her teeth bit into her lip.

Minato carefully set down his chopsticks and rubbed at the back of his neck—a habit of agitation. Namie was perceptive, but he wavered on whether or not he should share the story. She was still young. Telling her about the ugly nature of a shinobi's life, even if she was on the pathway to becoming one, seemed too unkind. That, and he wasn't completely certain that he could explain it without becoming an emotional wreck. He didn't want to worry her.

She was still young, and didn't deserve heavy burdens on her small shoulders. But at the same time, she was shrewd and would definitely notice when he was avoiding the subject. She would pry—she was naturally curious. But more than that, she was concerned.

In the end, being honest with her was best, even if it was cruel. Sugar-coating the world of shinobi was just something that shouldn't be done.

His eyes lowered as he spoke. "Ginta was injured during the mission. He might not make it." As much as that sentence hurt, saying it was a great relief. Holding the grief inside was almost too much to bear.

Namie's eyes widened as the weight of the sentence registered. She'd never personally met Ginta, or any of her brother's team, but she knew how important they were to him and she could understand the impact. "Brother…"

He shook his head and looked up. "But I guess only time will tell. I'm going to see him tomorrow, with Ayase."

There. He'd set up his shinobi mask again, concealing his emotions. Namie wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

Minato's eyes drifted briefly towards his sister's bangs and his eyebrows furrowed. "How was your first day of school?" He asked with a slight grin.

"Oh, it…it was fine." Namie replied. The tense atmosphere from before had melted away, but the underlying problem hadn't disappeared. She wondered if this was the way of life for shinobi. Taji often buried away her feelings, too, she'd noticed.

They were all so strong. This was who they were born to be.

As for her? She had no idea. She was a child. She was weak.

'_There are some things I can't do.'_

* * *

**A/N: **Wow this didn't take a happy turn now did it? Umm let's see. I made up Minato's teammates because who the hell even knows who they are. And Kushina and Jiraiya showed up! He was a little hard to write but I hope I did him justice. As for Kushina, I always have a total blast writing scenes with her.

And about who will be on Namie's genin team in the future? That's a secret! It will be revealed in chapter 16 in current plans. I know things are going slow but this is the stage where everything is getting set up.

This chapter is actually a big step for me because I usually don't get past posting four chapters of any of my stories _ever_. It's in part due to all your reviews/faves/watches/reads so thank you for your continued support (I hope these constant 'thank you's don't get annoying)!


	6. Five: School Days, False Start

Namie fiddled with the end of one of her braids as she stared vacantly towards the front of the classroom.

Minato's kunoichi teammate—Ayano or Aya-something, she recalled vaguely—had come to meet him that morning so they could visit Ginta together. The Hyuuga brought news that the boy's health was in stable condition, though there were murmurs of his future career as a shinobi being at risk. It was reminiscent of Rock Lee's situation during the chuunin exams when he faced Gaara.

From what little she gathered while walking partway through the village with the duo until they went their separate ways, it was a fairly common occurrence among ranked ninja. Critical injuries often resulted in unreliable conditions that could endanger entire missions, so those that received such injuries either retired from the field and worked petty jobs within the village or underwent rehabilitation that was rarely successful. It seemed they ended up at the same place regardless.

In other words, when a ninja was no longer able to perform as a ninja, they were essentially demoted to civilian level. They were useless.

Neither knew of the outcome their teammate would face, but Namie figured that Ginta would most likely be a genin forever, working the missions desk in the Hokage's building until he got sick of it.

The girl slowly stirred from her thoughts as a loud sneeze from one of her classmates sounded. She'd taken up residence in the set of desks at the very back of the room, close to the window—it was the first time she'd ever had the opportunity to take _that_ special seat in a classroom, so she wasn't going to give it up to someone less worthy. From there, she could see practically all of the other eleven students in the classroom. Suzume was sitting attentively at the front, of course, because she just seemed the obsequious type.

But sitting in the far side of the room meant she would be exposed to the class slackers, too. To her right, the Inuzuka she'd met before was idly doodling on the edges of his notes scroll.

The only thing that was particularly intriguing about him was the accessory that tagged along at his heels: a small, cocoa-brown ninken with pointed ears. It snoozed beside him on the bench, and occasionally kicked out a hind leg when something disturbed it in dreamland.

'_Cute…'_ Namie sighed longingly at the sight, seeing a small, grinning black dog in her mind's eye as fleeting memories from her other life surfaced. She usually did her best to suppress bittersweet thoughts of the Other Side, because it was a place she could never return to. She didn't even know if her former friends and family were still alive—didn't want to know. Living between two lives was draining, so she turned the majority of her focus towards her current life. Even so, it was impossible to completely erase her old feelings and experiences.

The chuunin instructor who stood near the chalkboard monotonously drawled on about something mathematical that Namie had mastered and had been well-able to use for several years. It was the same with writing lessons—Taji had started her on kanji a few months before she entered the academy, so she had a considerable lead on her peers.

It had been explained during orientation that the basic curriculum was staggered, alternating between weekdays. The first, third and fifth days would cover core textbook lessons, while the second, fourth and sixth days would cover the practical ninjutsu, genjutsu and taijutsu lessons—along with kunoichi classes for the girls. The seventh day was always a day of rest and then the cycle restarted. It sounded like a heavy workload for children, but it was necessary to build up a sturdy base of knowledge in order to improve later on.

Unfortunately, today was one of those boring days that covered a great majority of what Namie already knew. The only lessons that held particular value for her were geography and history, since most of Konoha and the rest of the ninja world was largely unknown to her.

"Pssst, hey," a low voice hissed nearby. Namie chose to ignore it, thinking it was some of the slackers being irritating, until the kid added, "girl with the funny bangs!"

'_Ah, there it is.'_ The blonde pursed her lips. So far, she'd been able to avoid being teased for her bad haircut since she stayed out of everyone's way, but it was only a matter of time before one of her classmates thought to draw attention to it. She turned an unimpressed stare towards the Inuzuka and raised an eyebrow.

Seeing that the girl was acknowledging him, the boy continued to speak. "Do you have an extra scroll I can borrow? Mine's at the end."

'_So that's why he was drawing instead,'_ Namie observed coolly, eyebrows scrunching together in irritation. She shrugged and shook her head. "No."

Even if she was bored, it didn't mean she wanted to be _bothered._

"Seriously? You have three right there."

"Should've come prepared." She grumbled, moving her note scrolls to the other side of the desk when the kid had the audacity to reach out for one.

"Come on, it's just _one_," he hissed, frowning in such a way that one of his sharp canines was poking out past his lips. "I'll…" he glanced around, then when his gaze landed on his ninken partner, he returned his gaze to the blonde. "I'll let you pet Kurocha! His fur's reeeeaaally soft."

Hearing this, Namie went still. She eyed the puppy uncertainly out of the corner of her eye and pressed her lips together. By now, he was resting on his back with his soft pink underbelly facing skyward.

"No way." The girl finally decided, sticking firmly with her resolve. She waved her hand dismissively at her desk mate, then rested her chin on her hand as she busied herself with looking out the window.

"Stingy strawhead!" The russet-haired boy accused, perhaps a little louder than necessary. The moment Namie turned to scowl at him, their teacher paused mid-sentence and eyed them with mild disdain.

"Is something wrong, Toboe, Namie?" He sighed, rubbing at his forehead beneath his hitai-ate with an exasperated expression. It was only the _first_ day of classes, and there was already an interruption. He certainly hoped these two wouldn't end up becoming problem children.

Namie's face colored as she bit her lip and wrenched her head back to the window, ignoring both her classmate and teacher. '_How humiliating…mind your own business, both of you.'_

Toboe, on the other hand, meekly shook his head. "No, Yuuichi-sensei."

With one last reprimanding look at the pair that just _dared_ them to cause trouble, the chuunin returned to the lesson.

* * *

Finally, after the long, grueling day was over, Namie rushed towards the door, eager to meet up with Kushina.

She would have made it past her desk, too, if not for the leg that shot out in front of her feet the moment she took a step forwards. With the momentum from flinging her body out of the chair, along with the intent to run, she wasn't able to catch herself during the fall and smashed unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor with a quiet grunt. The impact made such a noise that even Suzume at the front of the room turned to see what had caused it.

A loud, obnoxious laugh sounded from above. She didn't even need to look to know it was Inuzuka Toboe. Namie moved to her knees and rubbed at her chin to ease away the throbbing sting. She checked her teeth to make sure they were still connected to the gums—one of her baby teeth had been wiggling lately, so she was worried it might have been knocked out—and they were.

"Wow. Your reflexes are really bad, Strawhead," the boy observed.

Slowly, the girl grasped the edge of the closest desk and hauled herself to her feet before sending a glower at the boy. The notion to curl her fingers into his short, messy ponytail and bang his head against the desktop briefly crossed her mind, but she had to remind herself that she was _much_ too old to be fighting with a six-year-old. '_I don't need to be another Kushina,'_ Namie consoled herself grimly. But, she wasn't going to put up with this if it turned into habitual bullying.

Without a word, Namie headed to the door. She heard the boy scoff and grumble something under his breath, but by then she'd already set foot in the hallway.

'_He's just the type of brat I hate,'_ Namie groused internally, '_why the hell did I have to get put in the same class as him?'_ She rubbed at her chin again, noting that it would probably bruise.

The park was empty when she arrived.

She'd certainly considered the possibility that Kushina would have forgotten her agreement—the girl _did_ seem a bit scatterbrained. For that reason, the blonde was only mildly disappointed.

Then, briefly—like a lightning bolt to the heart—Namie realized that _this_ could be the day Kushina was kidnapped by the group of Kumo nin. Her heart began to beat erratically and her breath came in short pulls as the pressure settled in. She glanced around the area sharply, just to be completely certain she hadn't overlooked that vibrant red hair. No. It was impossible to miss _that._

'_What do I do?_ _What do I do?'_ Namie tried to calm her nerves, but they were just out of her control. The words were churning around in her head and a cold sweat seeped its way across her skin.

'_This is it. This is one of those crucial turning points. Minato was the only one who realized she was missing at first, right*****? If he hasn't noticed it yet, then…'_ The gears within her mind were turning, whirring, yet simultaneously standing still. '_What happens if I try to stop him? What happens if Kumo gains custody of an Uzumaki? What if Konoha never gets the next jinchuuriki back? Who becomes the next host?'_

She was standing at a bleak crossroads, evaluating both possible routes to her plan in a state of sheer panic. At this time, only a loop of questions occurred to her. Thinking on future ramifications was nigh impossible.

In essence, all it would really take was a simple flip of a coin to decide. Fate was not fixed, and there was no set path in _this_ world. The chance to change everything was at her fingertips and the notion to play god with that malleable chain of events was tempting.

But, could she handle those repercussions if—no, _when_, because it was inevitable—it all fell apart? What was done could not be _un_done. Time flowed only in one direction.

It was too soon.

_It was too much._

All of that mental preparation she'd set up was useless, because, being faced with the immediate option to alter reality was a far cry from visualizing it from a safe distance.

She recalled how powerless she'd been when Minato experienced that painful event during a mission. Some things were out of her control, out of her reach—

There was so, _so_ much she wanted to do, yet was unable.

'_I can't handle this.'_

A muffled sob forced its way past Namie's lips as she threaded her fingers through her hair and pressed her knuckles against her scalp.

The burden was far too heavy.

She couldn't do _anything._ _This_ wasn't what she was meant to do—_couldn't_ do.

She (just like the rest) was a slave to the predetermined timeline. The most she could do was heckle it as it passed on by, like an irritated spectator. View it as it happened, but never change it, because _what could a six-year-old girl do?_

No. She wasn't a _girl_. She was an adult woman. But she was so painfully _normal_ and _useless_ that she may as well have been a child.

'_Why am I here? What's my purpose? Do I even _have _one?'_

Reason slipped from her grasp in perfect sync with the tears that began to drip down her blanched cheeks.

Then, something frightfully red zipped past her line of vision.

With the quiet sound of soles hitting the sandy ground, the confused-concerned face of Uzumaki Kushina was immediately in Namie's personal space, and a hand was set nervously upon her shoulder.

"H-hey, don't cry. Don't cry! I wasn't going to ditch you or anything, 'ttebane!" The redhead spoke so rapidly that she nearly jumbled her words. "I was just gonna…" Her violet eyes had wandered towards the tree she jumped from only moments before, but seeing the state the girl was in, she decided against explaining her reasons.

Namie's eyes were wide in wonder and her lips were pressed together to keep them from wobbling. The redheaded girl kneeling before her was speaking, but whatever she said eluded the girl. Her head was swimming and her ears were plugged with water.

Slowly, the world came back into focus.

"Kushina-nee-chan," the blonde murmured with a stuffy sniffle, raising a hand to wipe her eyes dry. "You're late."

The Uzumaki girl's helpless expression crumbled in immense relief. She did take a moment to warily eye the girl, but when the child didn't show any signs of relapsing, she straightened and set her hands on her hips. "Hey hey, the _boss_ is the one who determines that. Now don't go turning into a mushy crybaby on me, 'kay Namie-brat? I made good on my promise."

"You did." Namie pulled a small grin, which came off as more exhausted than cocky, as she rubbed her cheeks with her hands, filling them with their normal color once again.

'_That was an awful freak-out. I'm embarrassed.'_ She lowered her hands to the hem of her long shirt and kneaded it between her fingers as she kept her eyes glued to the ground. '_I'll have to work on that...'_

"So, you wanna learn some of my awesome moves, huh?" Kushina took a moment to survey the area. "You'll need to build up to 'em. Guess I'll have to train you."

Namie peeked up at the redhead, eyes narrowed slightly. "That's not necessary. I think my current training's prepared me enough."

"Oh yeah?" Kushina tried, raising an eyebrow. For a scrawny kid who barely reached her elbows in height, she sure had a big way of talking. "I'll be the judge of that!" She hummed thoughtfully and tapped a finger to her lip before grinning widely. "Probably…you should run ten laps around the park, then come back and do a round of a hundred push-ups! If you don't come up wheezing, sure, I'll teach you right away!"

Namie only barely faltered at the boisterous demands. '_Not good…my stamina isn't that great. I don't have even a quarter of the ridiculous energy reserves this girl has. But, well, I can't expect any less from an Uzumaki.'_ She assessed the circumference of the park with a brief glance before nodding slowly. Her maximum record was one slow lap around half of Konoha, but even that was pushing her near her limits. But for such a small area, she felt somewhat confident. "Yeah…you're on, Kushina-nee-chan."

Without another word, the small blonde set off at a light jogging pace.

She collapsed to the dirt unceremoniously on her thirty-eighth push-up, chest heaving. "Damn," her eyes clenched shut as she hissed out a curse. _'I overestimated this body. But, seriously, all this just to learn a German suplex? What's next, training with bears in the forest?'_ She didn't even know if bears were native to the area, but she wouldn't put it past the red-hot girl to try. With a little difficulty due to her trembling arms, Namie rolled herself over onto her back and stared up at the darkening sky.

Kushina's smug face soon entered her field of vision, blocking the sun. "That's what I thought!"

Namie would have scoffed at the older girl's gloating, but barely had the strength to manage a scowl.

Then, a hand was extended to her prone form. "Come on. You can still stand, right?"

Almost idly, the blonde accepted Kushina's hand. The girl's fingers gripped hers firmly as she hauled her up with little mercy to her exhausted body. Namie stumbled only once, then regained her balance and took a deep breath. "I was close."

The redhead nodded vigorously. "You were! But, y'know, the deal was a hundred push-ups, Namie-brat. I'm not tellin' you _anything_ 'til you survive that."

"You're a slave driver." Namie accused moodily. "Do you know I'm only six years old?"

"Hah!" Kushina guffawed loudly as she put her hands on her hips. "I was doing more than that at your age! It's easy as pie! Just watch, 'ttebane!"

Before Namie could protest, the redhead was already tearing off across the grounds. Then, when she completed the ten short laps, she dropped to the ground, "Look, one hand!" and proceeded to complete a set of one-hundred push-ups on one hand only. Without breaking a sweat, or coming up even remotely worn when she was done.

Namie sighed. "Amazing." Maybe the older girl just didn't realize a six year age advantage and the unrivaled vitality from her lineage gave her a considerable lead. Still, though, it was somewhat awe-inspiring to see the crazy redhead in action. And a little encouraging.

Kushina popped back up on her feet and grinned. "Better believe it!" Her eyes wandered up towards the sunset and she sighed. "Well, that's it for today. I'm busy tomorrow, but come back the day after next."

"Ah, okay." Namie agreed, nodding. To be honest, she was relieved.

"Right. I'm expecting to see some improvement!"

"Right, right. See you, Kushina-nee-chan." She waved the older girl off with a tired gesture and slowly plodded home.

For the next two weeks, the pair met a handful of times. Unfortunately for Namie, taijutsu classes wore on her strength and her stamina level was still low. She wasn't any closer to learning that move she'd stupidly demanded to be taught, but at the very least she enjoyed spending time with the red-hot firecracker of a kunoichi.

Probably, Uzumaki Kushina was the closest thing to a friend she had. And she suspected it went both ways even though it was never directly acknowledged.

Eventually, Namie came to the conclusion that there was no way she could attempt to botch the timeline in such a way that it would harm the health or happiness of her young mentor. She was a good girl, with a good heart, who deserved the happiness she would have with her future husband and son—no matter how short-lived.

And so, the choice was narrowed down to one.

* * *

**A/N:**

*****I mentioned this in the story earlier on, but Namie's foreknowledge isn't completely reliable. If she ever thinks/says something that doesn't quite match up with canon information, it's because she assumes that it's true or plausible since she has no way of checking.

I meant to upload this chapter sooner but kept putting it off since something about it was bothering me. I kept changing little things but I think what I have now works well enough. I wonder, what would you readers do if you were in Namie's position, with enough information to be able to change an entire timeline? Would you? Could you? Would it weigh on you and stress you out?

Thanks for reading/reviewing/silently supporting. I got quite a few notifications after the last chapter and they made me really happy! I can barely believe this story already has so many faves and follows.


	7. Six: Challenge, Graceless Loser

"You've been out pretty late these past few days," Taji commented in a casual manner that did well to hide her curiosity as she stirred a steaming pot of stew on the stove. "Training already?"

Namie kicked her feet back and forth as she sat on the dinner table—not appropriate in the least, but she hadn't been reprimanded yet—skinning potatoes for the simmering concoction. Her guardian had finally returned from her mission when the war's end was declared and, after dealing with a few grueling operations at the hospital, had at last found the time to relax with the two blond children.

For the calm way the older woman behaved, no one could guess that she'd seen frenzied war zones and plenty of mortally-wounded comrades, and enemies alike, give up the ghost right before her eyes. But, Namie supposed, perhaps that was what several years as a medic nin and ANBU training did to a person. Taji was likely long desensitized towards death, hiding away whatever pain and sorrow she felt beneath a placid mask. Obviously the effort of a great deal of psychological conditioning.

"Mmhm." The girl nodded. "Taijutsu." She clarified. '_Well, it's not a lie. That Kushina's really putting me through the wringer. And I used to think _Minato's _training regimen was tough.'_

"Oh? Just be sure not to push yourself too hard. Your body is still growing." The woman advised, pausing her current task to cast the girl a concerned glance.

"I know, Taji-san. I'm careful." She missed the expression completely, eyes still focused on the vegetables as she mused, _'except for that time Kushina threw me. I thought for sure I broke something.'_

The brunette's lips twitched curiously as she took a few extra moments to observe the busy girl. For a kid, she was considerably straight-laced and serious. Aside from her appearance and childish haircut (oh, she'd had a field day when she laid eyes on those _bangs_, and did her best to even them up—but no amount of help besides just patiently waiting for them to grow out would do her any good), she sometimes behaved like an adult. At times, the times she didn't simply brush off or consciously overlook the odd idiosyncrasies, it was a little jarring. "So, how are classes going?" A soft smile replaced her previous, worried frown.

Namie's lips mirrored the smile when she caught her guardian's eye. "Everything but the special kunoichi class is pretty easy, hehe." Her mouth twisted into a pout. "I just can't for the life of me keep all of the different plants and flowers straight."

"Oh, right, they start your kunoichi classes this soon, don't they?" She turned away from the stove and scratched at the loose, messy bun on her head thoughtfully. "I have a few field guides I can let you borrow. The notes are pretty extensive. You know, it's a necessity for medics to be acquainted with all sorts of herbs and flowers."

Taji was a veritable well of information. Namie didn't know where all of her scrolls, texts and guides came from, since the small room she kept in their apartment was only stocked with basic necessities, but her own living quarters must have been filled to the brim with useful reading materials. Minato must have gotten a considerable portion of his own handbooks from her as well.

"Then I guess that's not on my list of possible future careers." Namie shrugged.

Taji chuckled and opened her mouth to shoot back a reply, but postponed this when Minato ambled through the kitchen doorway with a wide yawn. "Morning, sleepyhead." The woman hummed, eyeing the boy's messier-than-usual mop of spiky hair with the intent to attack it with a comb as soon as she was given the opportunity—it was really no surprise that he was no good at handling his own hair, given how he'd unintentionally butchered his sister's.

"Sleep well, Brother?" The blonde girl added as soon as her sibling settled into one of the seats at the table. His team—with Ginta's spot filled by a fellow genin—returned from a long mission earlier that day and he'd been snoozing ever since. Probably, the smell of dinner woke him.

He scratched at the bandage plastered across his right cheek. "I did, but I didn't mean to sleep so late."

Taji waved a dismissive hand. "Restoring your energy is important, it's fine. But—since you're up and well-rested now, why don't you peel those carrots?"

For a moment, still caught up in a sleepy stupor, he looked as if he wanted to protest. "I'll help." Namie chirped as she shaved the last bit of skin from the potato in her hand. She hopped down from the table and fetched another knife from the counter before taking a seat beside her brother and separating the carrots into two piles.

Cooking was never a specific—or even_ favored_—hobby of hers, but she did enjoy the atmosphere that came about when a family came together to prepare a meal. It always added a special flavor to the food.

When Taji was away, the two children sustained themselves with mediocre take-out or subpar lukewarm leftovers, so home-cooked meals were a welcomed change.

Namie watched Minato from the corner of her eye, surveying his current condition and debating whether or not she should ask him for an after-dinner practice session. It had been quite a few days since their last match, and even though family mealtime togetherness was nice, she found that training was the best way to bond with her sibling.

Rather—training was her favored method of bonding with _anybody._ Fighting styles, manners of teaching, explaining and posturing during a sparring match all revealed more than words or attitudes could, she'd discovered, and even during her taijutsu matches at the Academy it was a curious thing to observe. She'd come to know more about a handful of her classmates through fighting than speaking—she hadn't even exchanged words with all but three of her peers. The same could be said for teachers. She slowly began to recognize when any one of the three chuunins that handled the practical class were less than enthusiastic about instructing it even when they put up a cheerful front and barreled through the lesson plan.

"Namie?"

The blonde snapped out of the stupor she hadn't been aware of and blinked at her brother. _'Ah, I was caught staring. Not very ninja-esque.'_ She brushed off her surprise and beamed winningly as she turned to fully face the boy. "Hey, hey, Brother, will you train with me after we eat? Pretty please?"

Minato's eyebrows knitted together as he regarded the girl's sunny grin with some exasperation. He was about to decline and attempt to convince her to ask again tomorrow when he had a day off to rest, but then considered that she'd halved the current chore for him—probably just for an occasion. Sometimes, he noticed, she was crafty that way.

Namie picked up on his reluctance and quickly added, "I know you're tired, but tomorrow we're having sparring matches in taijutsu class—and it's for a grade this time, not just trials! I wanna run something by you. Even if it's just for a few minutes!" She stuck out her bottom lip to a slight degree and furrowed her eyebrows.

Minato exhaled and let his shoulders slump, then caught Taji's eye and shrugged. '_What can you do?'_ He glanced back at his sister. "Alright. I can spare some time."

"Yes!" Namie cheered, pumping her fist in the air in victory—and consequently dropping the carrot she was peeling.

"Namie! Please, be a little more careful..." Taji reprimanded gently.

* * *

After nearly a month training with Kushina, Namie had finally risen to a level where the redhead would indulge her techniques. Being able to perform her version of the German suplex involved having a great deal of upper body strength and enough flexibility to execute a bridge. Namie wasn't sure how close she was to being able to pull off the completed move just yet, since they hadn't actually practiced it physically, but at the very least she had gained extra strength training and believed she was well on her way.

It was a little vain, and completely reckless, but Namie wanted to be able to perform the technique during her sparring match the next day. There was no one better than Minato to help polish the move. If she managed to succeed here, then she could definitely apply the move in a spar against her classmates.

"What did you want to show me?" The older blond asked as he followed his sister towards the embankment of a nearby canal. The training grounds were too far away for such an impromptu request, but a wide open space was perfectly adequate for whatever she had in mind, it seemed.

"Hmm…" Namie hummed as she skipped down the grassy slope before stopping where it plateaued and surveying the grounds. The immediate area was deserted, though there were a few passersby overhead on the road. She didn't mind either way. It was more nerve-wracking that perhaps her redheaded mentor might be in the vicinity to pummel her for trying the move out so soon. But given the time, she was most likely at home eating dinner. At least, she hoped. Once she was certain the redhot redhead was nowhere nearby, Namie glanced over her shoulder eagerly. "Hey Brother, can you make a kage bunshin?"

"Ah, okay." Minato nodded, and after a flash of hand signs, his presence was duplicated and he felt the immediate plummet in his chakra levels. He wasn't certain why she needed him to make a clone, but he'd long since realized that his sister didn't arbitrarily ask things if she didn't have a reason. At the very least, he wasn't so exhausted that he couldn't spare some chakra. She was wise to schedule this after dinnertime.

"Thanks." The girl surveyed the clone and its weight, center of gravity, and then considered her own aspects. "Right. If I hit it with enough power, it'll go 'poof,' right?" Her hands splayed outwards to emphasize her question.

The Minato on the left nodded, only barely containing a laugh at her animated usage of sound effects and managing an amused smile instead. "It will."

"Okay, good." She inhaled deeply, then sank into an offensive stance. "I have a new move I wanna test out."

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. This was a first. "Any rules?"

Namie pursed her lips and evaluated the strength difference between her and her brother compared to the difference between her and Kushina. Then, she briefly considered the difference between her and her classmates. "Taijutsu. Fight me with an age-appropriate strength level." In other words, hold back. There were definitely no students at the Academy with her brother's current skill level, herself included, so it was a reasonable handicap.

The older blond glanced at his shadow clone, which nodded. "Alright. Ready when you are, Namie." She'd requested this training method only once before after learning he could perform it, in order to test the strength of her hits. She wasn't able to dispel the technique with her own attack power then, but it seemed she was reasonably confident this time around.

He hung back as his clone approached the girl and adopted his own stance.

"Start!"

The girl launched forwards and ducked beneath the clone's strike, then carefully angled herself away from the reach of the kick he followed up with. "Tch," she hissed, gritting her teeth as his heel scarcely missed her. '_It's hard to get close enough, as I thought. But if I time it right, the payoff should be worth it.'_

She blocked an oncoming punch with her forearm and countered by kicking at his legs in an attempt to knock him off balance. If she timed it right and created an opening, she would be able to swing around the clone and seize him from behind to execute the technique. As long as she caught him off guard and he didn't counterbalance her weight, she could gain leverage and overthrow him. This type of technique was mind over matter with attentiveness to her body weight and positioning, similar to what Minato had taught her in regards to defense techniques. Within reason, size of the opponent didn't matter (she wasn't arrogant enough to think she could take on someone bigger than her brother).

'_Sorry, Kushina. I'm gonna go ahead with it!'_ The moment Namie moved to enact her plan, an open-palm strike clipped her on the chin.

Her teeth clacked together, reverberating almost painfully, and she balked, stumbling back a step. Something was knocked loose.

"Namie—?" Minato called abruptly, ready to dispel the jutsu and halt the match, but the blonde girl held up a hand and shook her head.

"Ah…it came out." She sighed, spitting her tooth towards the ground. "You owe me big time, Brother!" With renewed vigor, she charged her brother's clone and unleashed a fierce strike that was met with a block and counter that drove her back.

'_Damned if I can't get close!'_ She cursed, wiping a hand across her sweaty brow. '_Ah, wait, no—that's it. I just have to get _him_ to come close.'_ With a light smirk, Namie went on the defensive, leaving a few intentional openings, and awaited the clone's next attack.

Without a wasted moment, Minato-clone charged and aimed another open-palm strike where her guard was weak. Namie dodged the strike and, while the clone was caught in his forward momentum, quickly stepped around him and locked her arms around his torso, pulling flush against his back. Then, with a loud cry, she threw all of her weight backwards while arcing her body into a bridge, imitating the suplex she'd seen Kushina perform.

'_I can do this! It's working!' _She cheered internally when his feet left the ground and the weight she was holding onto increased. Only—midway through the move, she realized the weight was _too much._ Her bridge collapsed and—with a surprised squawk, she began to crumple beneath the heaviness she'd underestimated.

Uh oh. Minato recognized_ that_ technique. He'd witnessed a certain redhead executing it during their Academy days. For Namie to have picked it up somewhere couldn't have been a coincidence. Somewhere along the way, she must have run into Uzumaki Kushina.

But at the moment, that was the least of his worries.

"Namie!" Before any damage could be done, Minato dispelled the jutsu and instead of crushing weight, Namie's small body was surrounded only in smoke when her back smacked into the dry grass.

"Ow…" The girl hissed, grimacing at the blond that was hovering over her with a concern—and was that irritation? "Thanks. That could have been bad." She grumbled, rubbing the back of her head. '_I guess Kushina was right to train me up before letting me try this. Being a kid sucks!'_

"Jeez—just what were you thinking?" Minato sighed as he helped his sibling sit up. "Did you hit your head?"

Namie winced at the barely-perceptible sharpness in his tone as he carefully checked her over for injuries like a startled mother hen. He was definitely upset. "No, I'm fine. Just surprised…and a little embarrassed." She admitted, grinning meekly.

"That was reckless." He admonished with a frown.

Her grin dropped. "But it's a _really_ cool move, Brother—"

"Cool or not, next time you're going to give me a detailed explanation before you try out that—or _any_ new moves again. Understand?" At the very least, he was glad she'd used a shadow clone of his to practice with instead of himself or someone else. He wasn't completely confident that he would have been able to move away before she could be hurt, if it had been his real body, because _really_, what had she been thinking, trying to pull off something like that?

Maybe it had been a mistake to start teaching her taijutsu at such a young age. Not only for her sake, but his as well. Because her skill level was decent, and steadily increasing, he sometimes forgot just who he was dealing with. _His six-year-old sister. _Not just another peer. If she ever got seriously hurt—especially if it was _his_ fault, then… well, he would just have to make sure it never happened.

"R-right." Namie agreed, cheeks coloring. It was rare to get scolded by Minato, but more than that, she was offset by the fact that she'd disappointed him. "Sorry. I'll keep that in mind. Promise."

"As long as you understand." Minato ruffled the girl's hair as his smile returned. "But—have you gotten stronger? I can still feel the sting from some of those hits…"

Namie's eyes narrowed. "Speaking of hits—Minato, you knocked my tooth out, you know." She growled, poking her tongue through the hole where one of her front baby teeth had once been to stress her point.

"Huh—wasn't that one already loose?" Upon seeing the girl's seething glare, coupled with the way she seriously addressed him by his name, he laughed uneasily. She was strangely sensitive about her baby teeth. "Right, right. I'll buy you an ice cream on the way home."

"Really? You're the best, Brother!" Just like that, she reverted to her adorable self and hopped up onto her feet with a grin before tugging at his arm for him to do the same.

He couldn't help but smile as he rose to his feet. "By the way, just where did you learn that…?" One of his eyebrows quirked curiously.

"Oh, uh—a friend!" With that, she ended the conversation and hurried up the hill, calling after him to pick up the pace as well before the ice cream shop closed.

A _friend?_ She'd never mentioned one of those before.

He already had an inkling of who this 'friend' was, but it was worth investigating.

* * *

As expected from a group of six-year-olds, the class sparring matches were nothing to write home about. Their skill levels revealed that Namie didn't even need to resort to showing off with a special move.

She watched with mild interest when Suzume was paired up with some other faceless classmate and suffered a spectacular loss, and with even less interest when her other classmates had their turns. It was a mixed bag: some were decently skilled, and some were incredibly poor with hand-to-hand combat and struck blindly despite their lessons.

Namie tuned out most of the matches and worked on developing another skill while awaiting her turn.

Given that shinobi could focus chakra towards their feet in order to tree-walk and stand on liquid surfaces, she figured the same applied to keeping her feet stuck to the ground. Despite training, her child body was petite and stick-thin, so there wasn't a great amount of substance to her and it made pushing her back almost effortless during a fight—she remembered that from sparring with her brother's shadow clone (not only that, but now that she thought about it, just what had she been thinking, trying to pull off a German suplex with her body in that shape?).

Namie hypothesized that, if she could succeed in keeping her feet planted to the ground, she could maintain her stance and prevent getting knocked back. Her chakra control was satisfactory enough by now to toy with the mechanics behind the idea, and she had plenty of time and boredom to go off on tangents like this during class.

She abandoned those thoughts when she was finally called. The name that accompanied hers caused her to glance up in surprise.

"Namikaze Namie and Inuzuka Toboe. Please wait until I give the signal to begin. Remember, just like the rest of the matches before you, this is barehanded combat of any style only. No weapons. The first one to land a solid body hit wins. Now, make the seal of confrontation and get ready." The chuunin instructor called, watching as his two students moved to stand opposite each other in the designated fighting area.

She'd expected to see the russet-haired boy with his ninken in tow, but the cocoa-brown puppy remained at the sidelines, looking on happily. She wasn't certain if it was because it was a taijutsu-only match, but she was always under the impression that that particular clan included their canine partners regardless of style. Whatever the case, it worked in her favor. There was no way she could beat down such a cute puppy.

Instead, she focused her attention on the lone Inuzuka standing before her. There was a scowl pinching his face, but the gruffness did little to mask the obvious arrogance that he believed he had the upper hand.

'_His stance is weak,'_ Namie noted, surveying the boy with arrogantly narrowed blue eyes as his own hazel ones did the same. '_I can take him down from three angles in a second.'_ She flexed her fingers and slowly sank into position, awaiting the starting signal. A smile slowly spread across her face. '_Payback time!'_

"Okay, okay. Looks like you're both good to go. _Start!_" Their instructor called, stepping back with clipboard in hand to evaluate the match.

Namie rushed in first.

Briefly, her opponent reeled back in surprise at being confronted so blatantly, but then quickly—and clumsily—avoided the sweeping high kick aimed at his head by dropping to the ground. _'Sk—skirt! She does that in a skirt?! Even if she's wearing shorts underneath, still!'_ He thought, alarmed by her bold attack. She wasn't holding back. She never did, not even in basic training.

Even so, regardless of her methods, this was the smallest girl in the class. Comparatively, he was one of the taller students in their year. Not only that, but she was a _girl._ If he was beaten, his friends would never let him live it down. '_Yeah…For sure, they'll tease me forever if the midget with the bad haircut wins. Like I'll let that happen!'_

With a growl, Toboe seized Namie's leg as it soared over his head, only narrowly missing its target, and shoved her back, earning a strangled yelp from the girl. While she was off-kilter, he threw a punch at her unguarded torso—only to miss as she blocked, grabbed his wrist and flung his arm away. She followed up with her own strike to his chest, but he stepped back to avoid the blow.

'_Tch. He's not completely inept.'_ Namie acknowledged. '_And he's a lot bigger. Blocking that punch kinda hurt. Better to end this ASAP.'_ She cracked her knuckles with a frown before rushing in for another attack. "Don't run away now!"

"Run away? As if, Strawhead!"

A few titters passed through the crowd of onlookers upon hearing the awful nickname, and some even had the nerve to repeat it as they egged on the fight.

"Now, now, focus on the match, don't talk too much," the chuunin interjected.

Namie grimaced as she dodged a kick. '_Looks like that nickname is catching on. Brats!' _ She hadn't expected it, but even though the boy's defense left plenty to be desired, he was quick to react and evade her hits. If her speed was just a bit better, she was sure she could keep up and overthrow him.

She stood back and observed her Inuzuka opponent, eyes scanning for a definite opening. He favored his right side and left a great area of his left open, but his quickness made up for that flaw. '_Then, the legs. His kick was weak and he sticks to hand strikes mainly. I bet I can knock him on his ass easy!'_ When the boy came within her reach, Namie dropped to the ground and swept her leg out towards his feet.

'_I see what she's planning!'_ The boy jumped over her leg a bit clumsily before he could be knocked down, and grinned. "Nice try."

"Tch…" She straightened back up with a glare. It was her fault for underestimating the kid, she knew, but it was _so_ humiliating to be bested by a brat. Being beaten by Minato, Kushina, and even Taji, she could handle, but…not this. "That's it."

When the russet-haired boy recovered, he'd forgotten to put up his guard. Namie rushed him, fist raised, ready to end the match—

His face was only inches away—

_She was going to win—_

Just millimeters away from the moment of victory, her opponent evaded the punch with a surprised grunt and her fist overshot its mark. Namie pulled back as swiftly as she could to avoid whatever counter he had planned, and nearly escaped, until a hand tangled into one of her braids and locked her in place.

Namie's astounded cry was cut short and morphed into a winded wheeze as the boy's fist collided with her stomach. Just as soon as he'd grabbed her hair, he released it, and the blonde sank to the ground on all fours, coughing. "That—" she breathed, teeth grinding together, "that was so underhanded! _Sensei!_" Despite her hacking and coughing, she viciously protested the hit. "That can't count!"

"Ah…I'm sorry, Namie. I didn't think anything like that would happen, but it was anything goes, so it's a legal win." Her teacher explained evenly before turning to her opponent. "Winner: Inuzuka Toboe. You both did well." He approached Namie. "Are you okay?"

"_Yes_." Namie ignored her teacher and rose to her feet, rubbing at her torso in irritation more than pain, because it didn't hurt as much as the loss embarrassed her. She roughly bumped her shoulder into the Inuzuka boy's as she passed by him and hissed, "you punch like a baby," before retreating to the school building and further ignoring her teacher's calls.

'_How stupid. I should have tried out Kushina's move again after all.'_

* * *

**A/N:** I've had a change of heart regarding my replying methods and while I have no issues with this site's review reply system, I find it's easier to keep track of them here (call me old-fashioned) so:

**Sethera**—Ah, same! If this were a 100%-true-to-the-word SI story, Namie wouldn't be nearly as composed and determined to change the storyline! And would most likely end up being really useless, and helped out a lot, like you mentioned.

**Kasuke. Hagase**—I think this chapter probably answered your question! But given how Minato acts around Kushina and keeps a close watch on her canonically, he's bound to find out eventually anyways.

**Mayonaka Yoreki**—WOW are we on the same wavelength or what? I'd thought at length about a lot of the things you mentioned back when plotting this story. And I remember that movie, that comment really made me consider. While I don't think that event could fit into my current plans, I'm definitely toying with the idea of making it a side story or separate one-shot in the future if I can make it work!

Thanks to the above and to **milpld, Bananarock509, Shadowmage97,** **coronadomontes **(you're my first and only foreign-language reviewer so far, did you know?), **Strife666, LuzElvaParra17, 10th Squad 3rd Seat, Moka-girl, Juliedoo, CeresMaria, Fox Kit Princess, mass-defect, Jackoblades47, iluvfairytale, tsubame. hayakaze, Rhavaniel15 **and **all Guests **for ever reviewing. Pretty sure I mentioned everyone but kick me if I didn't. And thanks also to all you silent ones for reading. I found that it's a lot more personal thanking people by name, after seeing xLilim do the same. By the way, said author has an absolutely aaaaamazing MadaraOC story called **Redesign** that you readers should_ definitely_ check out if it's up your alley! It's one of my faves.

See you next time!


	8. Seven: Uneasy, Comfort

'_I can't believe that little shit beat me,_' Namie grumbled as she skived out of the rest of the day's lessons and took to blowing off steam around the village. '_Him, a faceless _nobody._ A stock character, at best!'_ No matter how petty she was being at the small loss, it was a huge blow to her ego. She, a near-thirty-year-old woman, was beaten by some _child_ that popped up out of the woodwork.

'_I wanted to go home and brag to Minato that I won…'_

"Well, whatever!" She scoffed outwardly, stuffing her hands into her dress pockets as she stalked down the street. "If playing dirty is allowed, then I'll have a whole slew of new moves to bring in…"

"Who plays dirty?"

Namie quite openly choked and immediately spun on her heel to confront the speaker. "Ku—_Kushina-nee-chan!_" The bitterness of her bad mood dissipated, replaced by shock. She wasn't set to meet with the older girl again until the day after next, and she'd never encountered her in the village aside from their training sessions, so she could do little to stifle the reaction. Her cheeks colored when she finally regained hold of her senses and she crossed her arms.

"Hey, wait—aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" The redhead muttered with a raised brow before a cunning smirk overtook her face. "Ha, don't tell me you're playing hooky? You're such a goody-goody, I never would have thought you'd try that, Namie-brat!" There was a hint of approval in her tone.

'_Little do you know that I've skipped out plenty of times on boring lessons in the past.'_ Namie huffed inwardly, grinning a little. "Well…yeah. I guess it happens."

"For sure, dattebane! So, so, what were you talking about earlier?" Kushina continued to grin, setting her hands on her hips as she looked over the younger girl.

It seemed she wasn't as surprised by the sudden run-in as the blonde was. But Namie had since figured that Kushina was the type to just roll with the tide and take things in stride. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the girl looked a little excited to see a familiar face.

Namie remained silent until the girl's deep violet gaze met her own. "We had sparring matches in class today, and—" a light sneer pulled at the edges of her lips, "I…lost." She admitted grudgingly. "But it was foul play, I tell you! That jerk, that total bozo, he—he pulled my hair just to get in a hit! Can you believe it, Kushina-nee-chan?!"

An angry tick surfaced near the other girl's cheek as she stared in disbelief. Boys who teased girls about their hair and touched it and pulled at it with ill intention were enemies to the female race. Now that she looked closer, she could see that one of the blonde's braids was mussed and uneven compared to its twin.

The younger Namikaze hadn't meant to erupt in an all-out rant, and snapped her mouth shut once she'd said her piece. Kushina's reaction was a bit unexpected, however—especially when her vibrant hair began to waver as if it had a life of its own. Namie had the notion to step back, but the redhead spoke before she could make a move.

"_NO WAY!_ Boys like that are total scum! Your hair is so pretty, Namie-chan, I can't believe someone would just—just _yank_ on it to get the upper hand! That's so low…beat him up good next time, 'ttebane!"

'_Namie-chan, eh?'_ Namie wasn't sure what was more shocking: Kushina using an honorific instead of calling her a brat, or Kushina getting worked up for her sake (her response was so intense, even, that it attracted a few strange stares from passersby). Not to mention, she complimented her hair so openly. A pleasantly mild heat rose to her cheeks as she fiddled uncertainly with the end of one of her braids.

In her past life, her color scheme had been plain—a boring brown for both her hair and eyes. She'd never once been a beautiful blue-eyed blonde, and so her current appearance had always seemed somewhat…unreal. The teasing and childish insults of "strawhead" and "hay-for-bangs" never bothered her greatly because she took her appearance for granted, but when someone said something kind towards it, acknowledged it…she felt a little speechless.

The girl's eyes drifted towards Kushina's long red locks and a small grin slowly lifted the edges of her lips. "No way, your hair's way prettier than mine, Kushina-nee-chan. But I guess kunoichi have to deal with things like that, right?" She expected a seamless, upbeat response from the older girl, but when her question was met with silence, she glanced at the redhead's face curiously.

Kushina looked to be nonplussed, mouth hanging slightly agape as if she'd halted mid-sentence.

Namie's grin wavered, but before she could second-guess her choice of words, the redhead's face split into a wide smile as she rubbed at her nose. And unless it was just a trick of the light, there was also a tint of red gracing the girl's cheeks, nearly bright enough to rival her hair color.

Before the blonde could react to the shift in situation, a heavy arm was slung around her shoulders and she was swept along with the older girl's pace when she began to walk. "Come on, I know just what'll cheer you up, Namie-chan!"

'_Oh no, don't tell me—'_

The redheaded firecracker dragged her to a nearby food stand.

'_Ramen. Of course.'_

Was there ever any doubt this woman was Naruto's mother?

* * *

Kushina nearly spat out the mouthful of noodles she'd bit into—but managed to avoid wasting her precious ramen and instead made an undignified and garbled snort—when her understudy admitted to having prematurely tried to perform the very move she'd been teaching her. The girl swallowed her food harshly before frowning and pointing an accusatory finger in the other's face, nearly bopping her in the nose. "I _told_ you you're not ready!"

Namie leaned away from her (tentative) friend to avoid the slight spray of noodle juice that came about due to her shouting, as well as the potential broken nose. '_Now, now, that's not polite.'_ "I know. But if I could do it by now, there's no way I would've lost that match."

Kushina's brows drew together in worry as she glanced sideways in thought. "Totally, but…who exactly did you try that move on, anyways?"

"…My older brother."

Namie was sure the redhead would have spit out her soup if she'd been eating. "J-just how much older, here?!"

"Hmm. Six years?"

"_Brat!_" Namie found herself pulled into a headlock and sputtered feebly while letting go of her bowl to avoid spilling her own ramen. No doubt that would only make the firecracker angrier. "You're pretty small, you know? Why do you think I'm putting you through all this training? Definitely not to go after bigger opponents yet, '_ttebane!_" Knuckles ground painfully against the top of her skull.

"_But_," Namie winced, holding onto the older girl's arms in a futile attempt to ease her hold, "you _did_ say I should be able to throw_ you_ by the time I learn the move properly, Kushina-nee-chan…!"

"_Are you calling me fat?!_" Her knuckles pressed harder and the small blonde frantically floundered for an escape, flailing her arms.

"N-no!"

* * *

Half a year passed, though Namie was able to master the German suplex under Kushina's watchful eye in only a third of that time. She wasn't able to overthrow a larger opponent like Kushina yet, but she knew that in time she would reach that level (and, at the very least, she'd been able to get her revenge on that Inuzuka boy when they were set to spar against each other again).

The relationship between her and the Red-hot Habanero had grown stronger, to the point where they sometimes met up to socialize (and to Namie's dismay, eat ramen) when they weren't training. Kushina proved to be a valuable asset in learning taijutsu, Namie had learned, and even after she'd mastered the initial move their training was purposed for, the older girl continued to instruct her on various aspects of kunoichi life.

It was similar to Minato's guidance, but Minato was not a girl and thus could only cover certain aspects of shinobi training.

In a way, Kushina was the female presence that her surrogate mother could not be.

Namie was reluctant to admit it, but she was already beginning to view the redhead as a part of her family.

The only thing that worried her was the fact that her friend hadn't yet been spirited away by the Kumo nin—she wasn't naïve enough to believe she may have changed something and circumvented the event completely, no, she was certain it was pending.

It _could_ have happened already, during the second war, she supposed, but what enemy ninja would be stupid enough to invade the Fire Country's territory during times of conflict? Even if it was to try and gain leverage with an Uzumaki's power, it was an incredibly high risk with low rewards (because, in her mind, they were complete fools to even think they could subjugate the fiery child).

It was easier sneaking a small group into a powerful country during the peacetimes.

That meant they would be planning their move any day now.

She wasn't clear on the details, but she hadn't remembered an entire platoon sneaking in to whisk the redhead away. At most, there were only as many as a typical cell of four shinobi involved. They hadn't been particularly strong, either, if a young Minato had been able to easily handle them—and he definitely _would_ handle them, she was certain.

It was only a matter of _when_ they would strike.

Not only that, but after this event, and she wasn't sure when, Kushina would become the host of Kurama. It couldn't have happened yet, because by all means, Konoha should be guarding its jinchuuriki to such an extent that a kidnapping was nigh impossible.

She concluded that the exchange between Mito and Kushina was yet to come.

Once one domino fell, more were sure to follow.

* * *

"That's the wrong flower. We're not looking for everlasting sweet peas."

Namie glanced up from the patch of flora-specked grass she was digging through and narrowed her eyes when a familiar face—or rather, a familiar head of bushy hair—greeted her. "Ah, Ultra Perm. What, you actually have time to socialize?"

"Don't call me that." Suzume's facial features pinched together in distaste. "Sensei sent me to…_help_ the less fortunate. We're looking for regular sweat peas." She held out her own pink flower a little prissily as she stepped further into the shade of the nearby tree hanging overhead.

Namie glanced down at the purplish flower in her hand, then at the posy grasped in the other girl's stubby fingers. They looked similar, but the petals were different.

Even after perusing the field guides Taji had lent her, identifying flora was still one of her weak areas. It wasn't that she was terrible at memorizing their defining traits, but the subject of floriculture was just so _boring_ that she cared very little. She just didn't see the importance behind it. Plus, they made her sneeze.

In her past life, she'd admired the pretty flowers from afar and had a passing fancy to engage in the science, but now there were other things to occupy her time—like taijutsu.

In truth, she wasn't entirely concerned with grooming herself to be a proper kunoichi. Her grade in the class was far from stellar. In comparison, Suzume was the top student. Whether it was because her mother was teaching the class, or because she was trained in that specific area, she wasn't certain. Nor did she really care.

"If you wanna be friends, just say so?" Namie lilted with a smile, straightening from her squat and dusting off her clothes. She held the incorrectly-identified flower out to the girl—who was forced to accept it when it was thrust so carelessly towards her, lest it drop to the ground forgotten—and turned on her heel to escape.

"Strawhead!" The curly-haired girl hissed, hurrying after her blonde classmate. "It's not like I _want_ to help you, but you're holding the class back!"

Namie turned, curious, and briefly surveyed the area to see that no one was within immediate earshot. '_This is when the beast comes out,' _she observed with a small smile, waiting for the frizzy-haired girl to catch up. It seemed her awful nickname had stuck, despite the fact her bangs had already grown out normally. Even the irritating Inuzuka (and, regrettably, a good portion of the class) continued to address her that way. She'd be damned if she didn't get Suzume's nickname of Ultra Perm, or Toboe's nickname of Toto to catch on the same way someday as payback.

Suzume panted slightly, looking frazzled, as she smoothed her yukata and leered at her peer. "We cannot move on to the next unit until everyone shows decent progress in identification. We're a whole week behind."

"Oh, what's next? _More_ flowery stuff?" The blonde scoffed, setting her hands on her hips and stretching her back idly.

"Have a _little_ pride in yourself, at least." Suzume grumbled. "It doesn't make sense that your grades are good in pretty much everything else, but then they really suck in one class." She glanced down at the flowers clutched in her hands and pursed her lips. "As a kunoichi, you should take to heart what you're taught in these lessons."

Namie breathed a small laugh. "Wow. Didn't know you cared so much."

"I—" The girl sputtered, interestingly enough. Even when she was being snooty, she usually kept her cool. Namie observed her with questioning eyes. "In truth, I have a request…Namie-s…san."

"Oh?" Calling her by her _actual_ name, with an _honorific_ no less, meant the girl was serious. '_But, still, it's so rigid. She's uptight.'_ "And?"

Suzume fidgeted, gently wringing the sweet-pea stems between her fingers. Her dark eyes briefly connected with Namie's before she glanced away again. "Your taijutsu is…decent."

"I know! Right?"

The girl's eyebrow twitched. "That is, it's certainly better than my own. If," she faltered. "If you…were to give me guidance, then—then it would only be fair that I help you out with these lessons."

"Oh."

'_I didn't expect that.'_

"Is that a fair trade?" Suzume pressed, looking slightly—grudgingly—hopeful.

Namie pursed her lips and studied the other girl with little interest. "Only if you call me 'shishou.'" She smirked, though the smug expression was short-lived. Upon hearing that, the brunette stormed away without another word. "Huh. No dice." Once the girl was out of sight, the blonde sank to the ground again and began to fiddle with a few blades of grass for lack of anything better to do.

Aside from her curly-haired "friend," none of the other girls in the class paid her any mind. Along with the two, there were three more in their year, all from their sister class. They were somewhat of a clique that mostly ignored the brunette and blonde. At first, the teacher—a pretty woman who was clearly the mother of Suzume and the daughter of Chieko by similarity—had hounded her and pushed her to perform better in the class, but after a couple of months passed with no outward progress, she'd taken to letting the girl do as she wished, while complaining to her guardian. Taji had also attempted to motivate Namie, but when even that didn't provide the desired results, she reasoned with the teacher to allow the girl a little extra time.

Namie hoped they would just kick her out of the class if she showed enough disinterest, but as Taji had said, she could not become a full-fledged kunoichi without passing the lessons. It didn't bother her, really. If push came to shove, she would pull herself up to a passing mark to get the other adults off her back. She didn't need _help._

'_I think I know how Shikamaru felt, now. Some things really are just too troublesome._'

"Namie-chan?"

Namie glanced upwards when a cool voice called her name, and was only vaguely surprised to see her teacher standing over her. She was a severe woman with tame dark hair pulled neatly into a bun, just above the knot of her hitai-ate, a prettily-painted pale face, and practical but elegant kunoichi costume. Probably, Namie thought, the epitome of what a kunoichi was supposed to be.

'_But people like Taji and Kushina are more my ideal kunoichi types.'_

Her name slipped her mind. "Sensei?" She pulled her hands free from the reeds and rose to her feet. Briefly, she noted, Suzume was hanging back a few feet away, looking somewhat victorious.

"Starting today, you will be attending extra kunoichi lessons after your scheduled classes have ended. I feel it prudent to inform you that your poor performance in my class will only serve to hold back your peers, as well as yourself. Your guardian has given permission for these extra lessons."

'_Well, Ultra Perm's a real chip off the ol' block, isn't she? No wonder she's so stiff. For such a pretty woman, this lady's a stick in the mud.'_ Namie pressed her lips together, but nodded soberly. "Yes…ma'am."

This was going to interfere with Kushina's training.

* * *

It was nearly dusk by the time Namie's extra lessons ended. She supposed it was too late to bring her performance up to standard expectations and immediately escape this annoying situation, but sooner or later the kunoichi teacher would have to release her back to her normal routine.

Namie did her best to hurry towards the training ground she and Kushina had taken to practicing at before the redhead could get any more upset over her tardiness, but it seemed the blonde had been graced with one of those days where obstacles consistently stood in her way.

"No way, Strawhead, you actually got extra lessons?"

Or rather, behind her.

Tagging along like a lost puppy at her heels was her Inuzuka classmate and his ninken—the furry one of which she didn't mind at all, though he _had_ peed on her leg once during a history lesson and consequently nearly caused a brawl between her and his owner. Luckily, it hadn't erupted into anything past a fierce lecture on properly training puppies and an equally intense argument about keeping her feet out of other people's spaces, which resulted in their chuunin instructor separating them to opposite sides of the classroom.

"You know, for a brat who talks big and looks so studious, you're actually a moron, ain't ya? One of those brawn instead of brain types. You're better at fighting, so come spar with me." Toboe drawled.

"I don't have time to play. I have somewhere to be." Namie deterred the messy-haired boy with bland dismissal and only a cursory glance over her shoulder. Ever since she managed to beat him—consecutive times—after his initial victory in taijutsu class, he'd developed the annoyingly constant habit of challenging her and trying to correct his losses. Naturally, she declined every challenge unless their teachers pitted them against each other officially.

Kurocha yipped and circled around to stop directly in the blonde's path before she could continue on, and promptly rolled over. It seemed a sin to ignore such an adorable sight, so Namie automatically bent down and catered to the canine despite her initial intentions, sinking her fingertips into his velvet fur without complaint.

"Oi, Kurocha!" Toboe protested, sighing. It was beyond him why the small brown dog was so partial to the blonde girl. When they sat or stood near each other in classes, more often than not the ninken had taken to hovering around her. It was a low blow to his ego, that his own partner preferred someone else to him. All the more reason to give her a hard time.

The Inuzuka clicked his tongue and side-eyed the small girl. "You're always 'busy this' and 'busy that,' even during recess when we all play ninja. No kids our age have lives _that_ demanding." He balled his hands into fists and repeated in a demanding—bratty—tone, "Come on! Fight me, stupid boring Strawhead!"

"Nope." Namie replied dully to the whining while she scratched the pup behind its pointed ears.

She couldn't be stirred. Not only that, but any time Toboe made fun of the girl, his jeers rolled off of her as easily as water from a duck's feathers.

"Dumbass." He spat childishly, "You're just afraid you'll lose, right? 'Cause now I know you're not so smart as you seem."

"If I recall, you're the one who comes up dead last in everything, _Toto._" A certain glee shone through her tone as a smile pulled at her lips. As days passed and she was forced to put up with the annoying desk mate's teasing, she'd come to discover that he wasn't difficult to rile up at all. In a verbal sniping battle against a child, her adult mentality couldn't be defeated—though she did question the maturity of bickering with a kid at times. "In fact, I'd say you were dumb as a dog, but since Kurochan here is pretty smart, well, you're _dumber_."

"_You—_" Toboe moved one hand aggressively towards the girl, but at the same time she stood up and turned to face him with a severe frown. He froze, wondering briefly if she would finally respond to his persistence and give in to his challenge. Kurocha slowly returned to his partner and glanced curiously between the two children as the tension pulled the air around them taught.

Instead of retaliating or reacting, she only glanced down the road before looking back to the duo, one eye squinting in irritation. Time was wasting. "Fighting you is no fun." Namie didn't show a trace of humor on her face—only boredom—as she spoke bluntly. "You're _bad_ at taijutsu, and you're no good against me so there's no point. Quit asking to fight me when you don't even know how to improve yourself against an opponent. You suck!"

The boy's face turned an interesting shade of reddish-purple, and he quite literally choked.

Seeing that he was speechless, she repeated, "I don't have time to play."

Toboe regained control of himself and scowled, though if she wasn't mistaken, his lip began to tremble. "Whatever, Strawhead, you're so stuck-up! I'm outta here!" He quickly bent to pick up his ninken before pushing past the blonde and hurrying on his way.

That was the quickest she'd ever managed to shake off his nagging, and she suspected her harsh words had caused him to cry.

Namie shrugged it off and turned onto a side street that led directly to her desired training ground. The sun was well past the horizon, and it would be a wonder if Kushina was even still waiting for her. They couldn't get any training done in the dark, either way, but she didn't want to just abandon the girl if she had, in fact, decided to wait.

This was one of the few times that Namie deeply missed the advanced technology she'd been familiar with. If they had cellphones, there wouldn't be annoying situations like this.

However, that was the least of her worries.

The smaller problems of her day paled in comparison to what she stumbled upon when she reached the outskirts of the training field.

There, sitting innocently at her feet, just faintly glinting in the fading sunlight, was a very familiar strand of crimson hair.

* * *

**A/N: **Updated quickly because it's officially been one month since I've started Laterality.

Hey, guess what. This story is approaching a canon event! It's happening next update (probably next week) and it's going to be the longest chapter to date. I'm really terribly excited and I hope you readers are too! And also, look at that—I decided to start naming chapters.

Thanks to everyone for reading/faving/following and to **SilverRider09, KisaragiMarru, xenocanaan, Sethera, Kasuke. Hagase, moon so bright **and** coronadomontes**for reviewing!

As for replies:

**Kasuke. Hagase—**Yep! Namie is a little younger than Sasori, actually, by around a year or so. I'll have to double-check on that, but in any case she'll be 18 during the Kyuubi's attack if you'd rather do the math yourself.

**coronadomontes—**I always have to use google translate on your reviews because my Spanish is verrryyyy basic (but I don't mind it, really! I appreciate your reviews), so I hope I understood this properly. You asked if Namie will be a part of canon or go off and do her own thing without affecting it, right? The answer to that is she will become deeply involved with the story after a certain event occurs, but that's still quite a few chapters ahead, when she's older.

Happy early 4th of July to those who celebrate it. See you next update!


	9. Eight: Opening Move, Consequences

"Jeez…that kid is really late today." Kushina huffed as she shielded her eyes from the sun and glanced down the road to see if her little blonde pupil was nearby. When they made plans to meet up, Namie was typically punctual (or rather, because the redhead expressed her dislike for tardiness by performing a German suplex on the girl, she made it a point never to be late again).

During the first few weeks they'd been training, Kushina expected the small girl to quickly lose interest—but over the several months had passed, that had yet to happen. She'd since grown fond of the child, and the thought that maybe she would abandon her left an uncomfortable nag in her heart.

Because of her rowdy reputation, many children her own age and younger made it common practice to avoid her.

Because of her status as a refugee from Uzushiogakure—as an outsider—the village attitude as a whole wasn't kindly towards her.

It didn't seem that Namie knew about this, either that or she didn't care. The girl was strange. But she was also amusing.

The redhead hadn't realized it at first, but when the younger girl was present, it was almost like having her very own little sister to tease and annoy—and also to have fun with, even though she _did_ at times say difficult things that Kushina wouldn't admit were out of her understanding.

She was one of the rare few who didn't mind her and continued to stick around for better or for worse. Mito was comforting company as well, but children needed to be around other children to thrive. It was one of the reasons Namie had taken to her, she realized. The girl didn't seem to have any friends, only ever mentioning her beloved brother from time to time (she still wasn't sure who that was, but she applauded his training methods that seemed to be the root of the girl's skill level).

Their bond wasn't so thin that it could simply be tossed aside and forgotten.

She knew that. S_he did._ But knowing alone wasn't enough to ease her worry.

Kushina mentally reviewed her "lesson plans" to distract herself from such depressing thoughts. Taijutsu was coming along well: there was little left to teach her in that area. The little girl definitely had a knack for barehanded combat. She would teach her all about fun pranks and traps when she reached her limit there, and eventually…yes, eventually, she decided, when the little blonde showed more improvement with her chakra control, she would teach her some entry level fuinjutsu.

But that probably wouldn't be for at least another year.

'_It's about sunset. Huh, was I just totally ditched?'_ The girl scratched at her hitai-ate's knot, noting that she'd accidentally caught a few strands of her hair in between the tied fabric, and clicked her tongue as she pulled them loose with an inaudible snap and let them float carelessly to the ground.

A light pang of pain pulled at her scalp when she ripped the strands loose, and the sudden shock fueled her irritated mood. She stomped her foot and set her hands on her hips angrily before growling, "Namie-brat, you're gonna get it next time I see you, 'ttebane!" A feral grin had risen to her face, but at the sight of the empty road, it quickly evaporated into a frown.

No one was going to hear her.

Uzumaki Kushina wasn't known for her patience, and her attention span wasn't the highest, so there was only so long she could stand around waiting. When the first dusky undertones touched the sky, she hung her head and plodded slowly home.

"Home" was a poor definition to apply to the redhead's humble abode. There was no one there to greet her—no warm, loving family, and no beacon of welcoming light glowing from the windows. Though well-cared for and cozily furnished, it was a cold place. She'd sworn that, the day she made friends, she would invite them over in order to bring life and color to the empty home, but when everyone was busy with school and missions, it was difficult to find the time.

And so, she was alone.

It was for this reason that she knew she stood no chance against the group of foreign shinobi that ambushed her.

'_Someone…help me!'_

* * *

Minato wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished collecting his projectile weapons from the various trees they were embedded in and packing them away where they belonged. Just as it had always been for the past week, today's training had been taxing. But Jiraiya was adamant in enrolling the team for the upcoming chuunin exams, so it was only natural they'd been subjected to such harsh lessons—he and Ayase, that is. Their team was still left incomplete, filled in with a rotation of other fellow genin when missions were issued, and he supposed it would be the same for the upcoming test as well. If they both managed to pass and be promoted, their lack of a third member would become moot, since they would become part of new cells consisting of other chuunin.

Such was shinobi life.

The weak were left behind and the world had no time for them.

It was a heartbreaking way to think.

He'd seen Ginta a handful of times since the incident that caused him injury, and though he seemed happy outwardly, Minato didn't miss the envious stares that were sent his way occasionally. Yet, where he once would complain without a thought, he now refrained from uttering a word about it and resigned himself to working in the Hokage building taking care of menial, secretarial chores.

"Well, that's a wrap then. What a long day!" Ayase commented from a short distance ahead as she walked away from a brief discussion with their sensei and stretched her arms behind her head, glancing at the darkening sky.

Said teacher clapped his hands together, as if to brush imaginary dust away from his palms, and breathed out a sigh. "Great work today, kids. If we keep this up, I have no doubts you'll both pass the exam the first time around with flying colors!"

"You mean it takes some genin more than once?" The blond wondered as he approached the two.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Definitely! Why do you think the exam's held twice every year? It's no walk in the park, lemme tell ya."

"My sister didn't pass until the third time taking it." The Hyuuga contributed. "Boy was Mom upset…" A shudder ran through her at the memory. "I'm going to pass no matter what. You better, too, Minato! Don't embarrass me or Jiraiya-sensei." She pointed at him threateningly.

Minato laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Right, right. You know, I don't plan on anything less, Ayase."

"Trust me, you two'll be fine." Jiraiya stressed, patting them both on the back. His face lit up at a sudden idea. "Hey, why don't we all go out to eat right now as a reward for such a long day?"

"Huh?" Ayase scoffed, "no way. Last time we did that, sensei, _we_ ended up footing the bill 'cause you pissed off the waitress and got kicked out."

"Ah, well…" Jiraiya ran a hand through his mane of hair and looked away with a guilty chuckle.

"Besides," the girl continued, "I'm set on going to the bathhouse right now and you can't change my mind. Maybe save that invite for _after_ we pass the chuunin exams, huh?"

"Come on! Minato?" The Sannin cast a glance towards the boy, expression almost begging him to take up the offer.

Minato smiled apologetically and shook his head. "Namie's waiting alone at home, so I should get back as soon as possible. Sorry, sensei."

"You kids…" He sighed, setting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in mock-disappointment. "Fine, fine. I'll save it for after the exams when you're both sporting chuunin vests. But, still. I'm starving, so see ya!"

After saying their goodbyes, the three went their separate ways.

'_Namie probably met up with Kushina again today,'_ Minato thought idly as he glanced towards the vermillion sky. He'd begun to notice a pattern in his little sister's schedule, in which she came home from school later than usual on certain days. Along with that, after her botched attempt at performing a Kushina-specific technique, he'd followed up on his suspicions and discovered that the small blonde was indeed training with the redheaded girl.

He'd thought to bring it up, since Namie hadn't, but every time he tried he was always struck with the feeling that maybe it was too invasive to ask. The few times he'd stumbled upon the scene of the two girls training together, they both revealed sides of themselves that he wouldn't normally encounter.

Teasing grins. Genuine, endearing laughs.

Sure, Namie was usually upbeat around him, and did nothing less than dote in admiration, but around the redhead she was more natural and not afraid to toss around insults. She never spoke a word against him like that when _they _were together.

As for Kushina… there was hardly a time he could recall in which she'd been grinning so broadly. The typical picture was a worried, pinched brow and a frown, or a firecracker explosion of irritation at someone who had gotten on her nerves. And, occasionally, a lonely expression.

The two girls played off of one another well—that much was clear. They were able to pull something from each other and become more _alive_. He felt that if he intervened at the wrong time, it would somehow drive a wedge between them and break whatever precious bond had formed.

The last thing he ever wanted to do was cause strife for either of those girls. They were both important to him.

But he knew that, in time, Namie would tell him all about her beautiful friendship—

A disturbance swelled the air.

The soft, pensive smile dropped from Minato's face as he went on guard and scanned the surrounding area for the cause, fingers reaching for his kunai holster.

It was something in the trees—

The way the leaves rustled—

The sound of a clumsy footstep—

And there, a flash of familiar crimson hair.

He dashed after that misplaced sight without a second thought.

* * *

Namie wasn't sure how long she stood silent, staring at the thin red filament grasped tenderly in her fingers. It was so vibrant, so bright, gleaming in the waning light like a warning alarm.

She _knew_ she had to move, that she couldn't just stand there, because this _wasn't_ a drill. It wasn't a false start, not like before, no, this was the real deal and _Kushina was being taken._

Could she rely on the fact that Minato would surely pursue her and rescue her? How had he come across the fateful trail of red threads that led him to the girl? Was he currently emotionally invested in the Uzumaki girl to a point where he would definitely care enough to take chase?

This world was familiar—but at the same time, completely vague and alien. Namie's presence alone had surely altered a great number of factors, so she wasn't entirely certain about what she could absolutely rely on as law.

But this was Minato's defining moment—the day he became a hero—if only in the eyes of a young redheaded girl. It was his duty to rescue her. His _fate._

'_He has to. It _has_ to be him. Minato has to be the one to save Kushina. I would if I could, but I _can't._ Minato has to do this!'_

The girl swallowed the dry lump lodged in her throat. If anything, she knew she had to make sure that her brother was adhering to his canon role. She clutched the red hair tightly in her hand as she set off at a full, mad sprint towards her home.

"_Taji-san!_" She breathed out, despite her screaming lungs, the moment she reached her apartment. The house was dark and a reply was not returned. "Bro…_Brother?_" She tried, but there was still no response. '_Stupid…Taji's busy with ANBU stuff right now! And Minato, he's…where is he? Training? With his team? The chuunin exams are coming up, right. He said he'd be at the usual training ground until sundown!'_

Tears burned in the blonde's eyes as she slammed the door shut, did an about-face and hurried back into the village, frantically scanning the streets for a flash of yellow hair. '_At best, and it may be too much to hope, he's already caught on. Please, don't be too late…!'_

Konoha's night life was already bustling, filling the streets, which made running through the crowd next to impossible (was there a festival tonight, she wondered? There was certainly a large gathering. She'd never realized just how populated the village was—how many faces there were among her). She knocked into several pairs of legs in her rush to find her brother, and couldn't be bothered to shout apologies to whichever tipsy civilian she offended.

When it reached a point where there were so many people that distinguishing each face in the crowd became nigh impossible, Namie took to shouting out her brother's name in hopes that he would hear her if he was nearby.

"Mina—_oof!_" A particularly solid wall of legs impeded her progress, and she found herself bouncing back and landing on her rear from the harsh impact with an undignified cry.

A confused grunt came from the person she'd collided with as well, and soon a dark-haired figure kneeled before her, looking put-off. "Hey, you should watch where you're going. You could hurt someone."

Namie shook her head and didn't bother glancing at the person as she moved to her feet and prepared to take off into the crowd once again. However, a hand gripping her arm stopped her progress. "Sorry, okay?!" She spat, trying to pull away, desperate to continue the search.

"Where are your parents? You can't be wandering around alone." The man—no, rather, he was only in his mid-teens, a few years older than Minato—informed her in a coarse tone that a child would definitely be unhappy with and afraid of. A tone of authority.

Namie glared up and over her shoulder at whoever had a hold on her and briefly tensed when she spotted the Uchiha clan insignia. Right. They were Konoha's police force, so it was only natural that they were patrolling the streets. But why did they have to bother _her?_ "I'm looking for my brother! Minato! Now lemme go! I have to find him!" She attempted to get free again, to no avail. '_Damn Uchiha. Always getting in the way somehow.'_

The strong-jawed Uchiha officer sent her a slightly exasperated look. "Not alone, you're not. You'll have to stay with me until we find him. What's your name?"

Namie grit her teeth together and contemplated the consequences of kicking a police officer in the shins. '_I need an adult,'_ she mused facetiously, eyes darting through the crowd. "No thanks. I can find him by myself. Minato! Brother! Where are you?" She called loudly, waving an arm and trying to squirm out of the man's grasp. "_Minato!_"

The Uchiha adopted a slightly uncomfortable expression as the passersby began to take notice of the racket and paused to stare curiously. The embarrassing change in situation caused his grip on the girl's arm to momentarily slacken, and the second it did, she rushed forwards, out of his reach, and ignored his curses and calls after her.

Only—she near-instantly ran into another set of legs, this time more of a brick wall than before. But before she could bounce back and hit the ground again, a hand steadied her. "Now, now, what's this about? It seems my little student's gotten quite popular with the young ladies!" An amused, and overly theatric, voice boomed above her head. Namie quickly looked up and came face-to-face with the legendary Jiraiya.

Her eyes widened.

For one brief, terrible moment, the man's impending death flashed before her eyes and it _burned_. Emotions she'd long ago buried threatened to bubble to the surface and moisture collected at the corners of her eyelids as she recalled a body, lifeless, sinking into the ocean—

But—no. He was young, still _alive_, and would be for the next two or so decades. He was right here, right now, and probably a valuable link to her brother's current whereabouts. That thought alone overrode her previous rush of panic.

'_Minato. I have to find Minato. Save Kushina!'_

The smug grin on the white-haired man's face faltered when he got a closer look at the child's strikingly familiar face. "On second thought…little girl, aren't you…?"

Before he could finish, the young Uchiha approached, looking irritated. "Didn't I tell you? Running around recklessly just causes trouble. Now, come with me." He made to reach for her arm yet again, but the shied away and hid behind the Sannin's legs, curling her fingers into the rough fabric of his pants. "Huh?"

"I found who I'm looking for." Namie claimed, fighting the urge to stick her tongue out, as she fixed the dark-haired officer with a fierce stare that just _dared_ him to go against her.

The Uchiha glanced at the person the girl barricaded herself behind, and a flash of realization crossed his face. Of course, it was easy to recognize any member of Konoha's legendary trio. What a little girl had to do with the white-haired one, though, he wasn't certain. Surely, _he_ wasn't her _brother._

Jiraiya rubbed at his head, thoroughly flummoxed, then acknowledged the Uchiha with a shrug. "Ah…see, her older brother is one of my genin students."

The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow. He would be more than happy to wash his hands of the troublesome child, but he couldn't just deposit her in the care of any qualified jounin. "Child, you know him?"

Namie bristled, feeling precious time ticking away. "Yeah. Sannin-sama is my brother's, Minato's, team leader. He'll take it from here, Mister."

After the two older men exchanged looks, the Uchiha seemed to come to terms with the situation and finally left to resume his patrol with a respectful nod.

Once the officer was out of sight, Jiraiya glanced down at the small blonde and sighed. "You know…somehow I had the idea that my cute little student's little sister would also be cute." '_But she's actually a little pushy, and really uncute.'_

Namie ignored his backhanded words and dove immediately into the matter at hand. "Jiraiya-san, where is my brother? I need to find him, right now!"

'_Suddenly it's '-san,' huh? 'Sannin-sama' certainly had a nice ring to it.'_ Jiraiya surveyed the small, abrupt girl that he'd only seen from a distance once before—her name eluded him, despite the fact that Minato had mentioned it before—as he crossed his arms. "Right, right. But you know, little lady, it's not really wise to come up to a total stranger just to get away from the police. I mean, you clearly know who I am, but…" But what if it had been someone else? Would she have done the same thing? Minato wouldn't be too pleased if he found out his precious baby sister was running amok with unknown persons, and because Jiraiya was now (unwillingly) involved, he couldn't exactly leave her be. He felt responsible for her by association.

"Spare me the lecture. I'm in a rush."

The man's jaw nearly unhinged when he heard the girl's sharp tone. What a brat! Here he was, trying to be an adult about it all, and she was giving him attitude. Well, if that was how she wanted to play… He narrowed his eyes a bit, and held his arms dramatically akimbo. "Well, kid, I _would_ tell you, if I knew."

As soon as the blonde heard this, she very noticeably lost all interest in him and made to take off into the crowd, but he quickly intervened.

"_Hold it._" When he had her attention again, he continued. "What's this about? After training, he said he was headed straight home. You should have run into him there."

Namie glanced down at the red hair in her hand and weighed the odds of enlightening the older man. If Minato wasn't nearby, then it was more than likely he was already pursuing the Kumo nins. Pursuing _Kushina_. But there was still that small chance that he _wasn't._ She hated being left in the dark, unaware of what was going on around her. If only there was a way to know…

But there _wasn't_. There was no way to know, not now. All she had was her own limited knowledge and if she didn't take a chance, a huge leap of faith, the consequences could be dire. For _everyone. _

"I think," she faltered, gathering up the necessary courage, "I think Uzumaki Kushina…was kidnapped. And—" again, she paused, uncertainty flooding her thoughts. "_And I think Minato went after her!_" The words finally tumbled out of her mouth in a flurry of near-unintelligible drivel, but it seemed the man understood.

"And just what makes you say that?" He stood at alert, eyeing the girl uncertainly.

Namie wrung the material of her dress between her fingers. Typical, an adult wouldn't take the words of a child at face value. She didn't blame him, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. "I was supposed to meet up with Kushina-nee-chan—we usually do, to train—and she wasn't there. And—I have a bad feeling. There's no way she would leave before I got there. As for my brother, he…you know, he's always watching her. He probably saw it happen and took off to save her." It was a partial lie, a manipulation of the truth and what she prayed to still be _canon_ truth, but she hoped it was reasonable enough to convince the Sannin.

Jiraiya observed the girl quietly. He _had_ recently heard from his student that the redheaded Uzumaki seemed to have taken to hanging around his little sister, and it was his belief that Minato was interested in the tomboyish girl. The boy never seemed the type to play hero, but if a girl he liked was involved, well…love could make people do stupid things. Lord, did _he _know.

If it was true that his student was pursuing the girl and her alleged kidnappers, there was the possibility he could be in danger. It wasn't that Jiraiya didn't trust the boy's skill level, no, not that—but there was a chance the kidnappers were out of his league. If his genin was in trouble, it was his duty as the leader to ensure his safety. Not to mention the Uzumaki girl in question was important to the village and it would cause a great shitstorm if she fell into enemy hands now, when Uzumaki Mito's condition was deteriorating.

In all her earnestness, this little girl didn't seem to be fabricating her tale, either. But even if it was just a false alarm, the intense gleam in her eyes and the absolute conviction in her high-pitched voice made him incredibly uneasy.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to just _check_ on both his student's and the redheaded girl's whereabouts.

"Any idea where this happened?" He queried, putting aside his suspicion and giving her the benefit of the doubt in favor of their mutual interest.

Namie shook her head, but thrust her hand towards him after a moment's hesitation. "This—Kushina-nee-chan's hair—she might be leaving it as a trail." If Minato wasn't following after the girl, then maybe—hopefully—by telling Jiraiya, she would still end up being rescued and returned.

"Alright. I'll look into it. Kid—" The Sannin glanced over his shoulder, searched for a moment, then waved her forward. "Come with me real quick. I can't leave you alone here, so you'll have to stay with the Uchiha policeman from before."

"Wha—wait, but—" When she made no move to comply, he patted her on the back, consequently propelling her forwards and shutting her up, and simultaneously he flagged down the attention of the patrolling officer from before. "Hey, Fugaku-kun!"

'_Fugaku?'_ Namie thought, scraping her thoughts for the source of the name's familiarity as the dark-haired Uchiha approached once again. He probably hadn't been completely convinced of the situation, since he remained in the nearby area. She squinted at the teenager as he approached, and he returned the shade with an offended frown.

"Sorry to dump this brat on ya during patrol, but there's some business I have to take care of."

The officer—Fugaku—half-rolled his eyes at the child before turning his full attention to the older man and nodding. "It's no trouble at all, Jiraiya-sama."

"Great, great!" The Sannin pushed Namie forwards again until she was standing next to the other man, and then turned to head off. However, after a brief moment, he cast a glance over his shoulder. "And, uh, if me or her brother don't come around within about an hour, do you think you could escort her home?"

Fugaku nodded, though it was a bit strained. "Of course." With that, the white-haired sage took to the nearest rooftop and the last they saw of him was the tail of his stark white hair. Once he was gone, the Uchiha's dutiful expression dissolved and was replaced with annoyance.

There was something familiar in that expression, there, that jarred her memory and drew up a comparison. '_Fugaku. That's right, that's Sasuke and Itachi's dad. Oh, no way.'_ A scowl blanketed her face as the realization settled in.

Said Uchiha's dark eyes briefly surveyed the small, disagreeable girl. "You're lucky I'm used to babysitting. An awful lot of kids seem to think it's okay to run around alone after curfew." He then muttered something about patrol duty and unfair assignment as he fixed the blonde with a similar scowl. "Your face is going to stick like that if you keep it up."

"Right back at ya." As he shut his eyes in exasperation and sighed, Namie made to escape and follow in Jiraiya's direction, but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her and she bristled.

"Come on. You're accompanying me on patrol for a while."

* * *

Neither Minato nor Jiraiya returned in the designated time frame. As promised, Fugaku walked the young girl home, and he seemed immensely relieved when she scurried up the stairs to her apartment complex without so much as a word of farewell.

Namie waited at home alone for the next couple of hours, pacing and nervously watching the windows and front door for any signs of arrival.

It wasn't until near midnight that a sharp knock on the door brought any sense of comfort to her scrambled nerves. She hurried to the door and flung it open, eyes wide.

"Brother—" The figure standing behind the door was not her brother. It was a tall shinobi in a familiar uniform, with a minimalistic animal mask that concealed his features. Namie had half a mind to slam the door in the ANBU officer's face, but a nagging drag froze her in place. She'd never seen an ANBU operative in person before—Taji did not count, because the air around her was always maternal, warm and welcoming, not that of a cold and deadly killer. She hid her trepidation and spoke firmly. "Yes, ANBU-san?"

"Namikaze Namie," the ANBU spoke, voice muffled by his porcelain monkey façade, "you are to come with me to the Hokage's office immediately."

The girl's stomach swooped to her feet. A million worst-case scenarios whirled through her mind, from _what went wrong_ to _how could I possibly have messed this up any worse._

A shock of terror struck her when she considered the possibility that, maybe, just maybe, her actions had indirectly brought about her precious peoples' deaths. What if, by interfering, just by _meeting_ Kushina, by befriending her, something in the timeline had been shifted grossly out of place? What if Minato didn't succeed…what if he—

_What if he died?_

The ANBU spoke again, but his words were hazy. Namie felt her breath coming in quick shallow puffs and couldn't bring herself to calm down. '_It's my fault. It's all my fault. Whatever happened—I did it.'_ More muddled words were uttered towards her, but she was deaf to them, only shaking her head to deny her own thoughts.

For some reason, she felt her muscles seize up in fight-or-flight mode, and the notion to flee struck her.

But before she could make a move, a quick, sharp pain erupted in her neck and her surroundings drained away into an inky blackness.

* * *

The heavy veil of unconsciousness was slowly lifted, but a groggy haze remained. Namie couldn't recall such an unsettling sensation since the fuzzy days of her rebirth.

She awoke to the feeling of scratchy, stiff sheets encompassing her body, and the dry, sterile scent of a hospital. For the moment, she allowed her eyes to remain shut as she acclimated to the environment.

What happened? Why was she here?

The memories rose from the darkness of her subconscious and slowly weaved together into something concrete she could analyze.

Kushina had been kidnapped. She'd searched for Minato, only to find that he was nowhere in Konoha, then she'd spoken with Jiraiya, who agreed to go after the two. She waited for them to return, and then the Hokage sent an ANBU shinobi to collect her.

An ANBU that she presumed was the one to knock her out.

And now, she was recuperating in the medical ward of, presumably, the hospital.

'_Something went wrong. I probably said too much.'_ Namie concluded, opening her eyes—and immediately flinching underneath the blinding fluorescent lights. _'Shit. Shitshitshit.' _Her arm automatically moved to drape across her eyelids and protect them from the stinging brightness, and the moment she did this, something rustled nearby and a worried voice rang out.

"Namie!"

"Taji…san?" Her tongue felt heavy and thick in her mouth, and she found her words clumsy. "Where's—where's Minato? And Kushina-nee-chan?" She slowly moved her arm away and blinked up at the woman whose face was hovering above her own.

"They're both fine. What about _you?_ How do you feel?" There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't seen proper sleep for days.

An immense relief flooded her at the mention of her brother and mentor. Worst-case scenario had been avoided. She closed her eyes and breathed out calmly, knowing that—whatever was to come, she could face it, because the people she cared about were still alive.

_They were still alive. _

"Weren't you on a mission?" Namie deflected tiredly.

"It's done. I came back yesterday morning." Taji smoothed out the girl's hair, pushing the messy golden strands back from her face, and began to run a diagnostic jutsu.

Yesterday? Just how long had she been out? "Taji-san, I'm confused." She admitted, opening her eyes to the faint green glow of chakra.

The woman paused and caught her blue gaze with an odd look, as if she felt exactly the same way, but then she returned her attention to assessing the girl's health. "I…can't explain it. I'm to take you to the Hokage." Her tone was careful, and a little rueful.

For the past three days, the girl's ward had been kept under close watch by her ANBU associates—ever since the kidnapping and subsequent return of the Uzumaki child, which had turned into one headache of a fiasco, largely for the reason that it had gone unnoticed by all except Namikaze Minato, his younger sister, and the Sannin Jiraiya, who'd organized for a search unit as soon as he confirmed the situation.

A group of shinobi from Kumogakure had infiltrated Konoha in order to secure what they apparently thought to be the current Ninetails jinchuuriki—though, Uzumaki Mito had not yet passed on the status of container to the younger redhead. Despite that, the fact that she was an Uzumaki was a viable reason to kidnap her on its own.

It would have been understandable to have Jiraiya and his genin student alone involved in the matter, but…Namikaze Namie was an anomaly. Her story—as provided by Jiraiya— was plausible, but did not entirely corroborate with the two genins' separate reports. There was no logical reason for a child like her to know what she mentioned to him. Not only that, but her behavior was reported as unusual by the ANBU shinobi that had been tasked to accompany her to the Hokage.

It was initially believed that she was under the influence of a genjutsu cast by the invading Kumo nin, but there was no evidence of this. The second conjecture was that she was a spy herself, but after being observed by an operative from the Interrogation division, this possibility was also eliminated.

The ruling was that the child was innocent and her loyalties remained with Konoha—something Taji would have vouched for from the beginning, had she been present. If she_ was_ a turncoat, then why on earth would she choose to alert one of the _Sannin?_

But this intense observation had brought two points of interest to light: Namie's possession of a curious mental state, and the chakra reserves that were disproportionate to her age. Taji wasn't informed of the fine details, but had long since realized the girl was smarter than she let on. Like her brother, she was rapidly approaching the level of a genius.

"Looks like everything is in order. I'm glad. Are you ready to go see Hokage-sama?" She asked the smaller girl with a light smile, noting the way her expression all but glared the words _I don't want to go._ She offered her hand.

"…Yeah." Namie gently accepted it.

* * *

Sarutobi Hiruzen had never impressed Namie as someone to be feared, despite the fact that he was an astoundingly powerful shinobi with the title of Hokage. He'd come across as a slightly strict but caring grandfatherly type who loved his village and the villagers within to a fault.

But when she stood before him in his dimly-lit office, alone (though there were most certainly hidden ANBU nearby), he may as well have been her executioner.

Her fate was all but sealed; she could feel it in his stare. They'd figured something out and there was no way she could camouflage herself any longer.

'_I definitely said too much. It was a mistake talking to Jiraiya. Has this guy already consulted with his council of elders? Does Danzo know? What's the verdict?'_

"Don't look so frightened, child," were the first words he spoke. "No one is here to harm you."

'_Yeah. Try saying that in my situation, Sandaime-san.'_ Namie relaxed regardless, if only out of exhaustion, and slowly pressed her fingers into the hem of her blue dress.

"Hokage-sama, why am I here?" Her words were spoken evenly, with care.

Most children would be standing in awe in their esteemed village leader's presence, Sandaime noted. Yet this child was cutting straight to the chase, without even a minute trace of admiration in her worried visage. The reports were accurate—she didn't act like a six-year-old whatsoever. Since that was the case, there was no way he could condescend to her and treat her as one if he wanted to make any progress.

He was accustomed to it. Every so often, there came along such a child from the Hyuuga or Uchiha clans. Even the Nara. But…clanless geniuses were a rarity. His former student Jiraiya had already lauded Namikaze Minato's skill—two from the same bloodline was even more unique.

"Namikaze Namie—Namie-kun—it has come to my attention that, had you not taken the actions you did, we may have lost an important member of our society." When he spoke her name, she glanced at him tentatively. Most of the brightness in the room was due to the sun outside, behind the man's back, so his face was cast in shadows.

"Kushina-nee-chan." She acknowledged quietly, forcing her voice to waver with emotion. His tone was not what one would expect from an elder speaking to a child, though it was still mild. If she were a genin, it would have fit the situation, but typically Academy student were not addressed as if they were tiny adults. She would have to tread carefully and act her (outward) age.

"Yes, Uzumaki Kushina. I understand you two are close?"

Namie nodded—the action erring on bashful—allowing her lowered gaze to wander along the worn floorboards and trace the lazy patterns countless scuffing footsteps created.

"How would you describe your relationship?"

"She's like a big sister."

The Hokage nodded. "I see. Then it's no wonder you reacted the way you did. How, may I ask, did you come to the conclusion that she was being kidnapped?"

There it was. Namie raised her gaze and met the older man's eyes only briefly.

On her way to his office, she'd considered a handful of options to present the man. One was the obvious that he expected: that she was a child prodigy able to deduce the situation from only a few clues, and the second was that she possessed a sensory ability. The third option was to play dumb, but it was far too late for that, and the fourth was to confess her foreknowledge—a definite no-go. If she relied on the latter, the village would destroy her, burn her like a witch at the stake.

She didn't want to risk it.

None of the options would return a desirable outcome. But if she chose the second option, she could remain under the radar and avoid the brand of "special." That was the last thing she wanted, with unsavory characters like Orochimaru and Danzo in the vicinity. But it seemed to be unavoidable at the moment.

It was time to see if she had the spirit of a silver-tongued devil.

"No, sir, I didn't." She admitted honestly, slowly, raising her gaze. It wasn't her conclusion, after all, it was canon fact.

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his fingers together as he assessed the girl. "What do you mean by that?"

"It was a…feeling." Namie began solemnly, trying to recall a similar concept from her previous life. "When I picked up a strand of Kushina-nee-chan's hair, it was like I could feel it happening." What was it called? It slipped her mind. It was some type of extra-sensory perception. Chakra sensors were of a similar vein, she figured, hoping it wasn't too much of a long shot.

Hiruzen provided a small nod. The girl's explanation upheld the statement that the Uzumaki's location had been revealed by her idea to leave a trail of chakra-infused hair in her wake.

"And what exactly could you feel?"

Namie paused for effect, eyebrows furrowing. "I could feel Kushina-nee-chan being taken away from Konoha."

From her description, it appeared she possessed a sensory ability. Yet, something wasn't quite adding up. It was a matter he would bring before the council once all of the reports were filed for cross-referencing.

He nodded coolly and allowed a small smile. "I see."

'_I'm sure you do. Now just convince yourself I'm not a genius.'_ She observed him unsurely, eyebrows still knit together. It was perfectly fine lying about a skill at such a young age—even if it was a barefaced lie straight to the Hokage himself. She had no qualms with it and she would find a way out of it later. It was doable, so long as he didn't pin her as a subject of interest. Perhaps it would pay to let her grades fall into decline for a while.

The Hokage fixed her with a level stare and issued one more question. "Will you tell me why you sought out your older brother with this matter before anyone else?"

A small, fond grin slowly spread across her face. "Because my brother is the best shinobi I know." She meant every word she said.

With that, it seemed she successfully escaped further scrutiny.

* * *

As soon as the small blonde was dismissed, the Hokage summoned the Yamanaka that had been studying the girl's mind over the past few days. Since she was so young, she'd been handled gently, and the fact that her thoughts had been skimmed through by the Interrogation Department had been scoured from her memories. Oftentimes, the mental stress inflicted by a Yamanaka's technique was too great of a burden for children, and it left them traumatized and unable to function properly as shinobi, so this method had been adopted to ensure negative effects did not occur.

During war time, even the young were not spared from conflict. Several opposing factions had taken to utilizing them as Trojan horses to gain the upper hand, and because of this, extra precautions had to be taken, even during the periods of disarmament when nations who felt slighted attempted to retaliate. It was the basis behind the idea that perhaps Namie had been placed under a genjutsu, or worse—brainwashed.

However, none of that had been the case. What they'd discovered was far more interesting.

"She is certainly an unusual child. You say it was indicated by the structure of her mind that her mental age far exceeds her physical age, but despite that, she upholds a childlike farce." Hiruzen summarized, recalling the child's shift in personality in his presence as he sought his pipe and drew from it contemplatively. It was a valiant attempt, but those that were not highly skilled in the matter always failed to cover certain tells. The fact that she'd put on a convincing show, regardless, only proved that she possessed intelligence impossible for her age.

"Yes, Hokage-sama, that is correct. However, there exists the possibility that she has separated her adult and child mentalities and is unaware of the other's existence. It's a form of compartmentalization my unit has encountered before in various instances." The Yamanaka confirmed. His expression turned momentarily perplexed. "That does not account for her ability to deflect my team's search during certain moments."

"Was there no evidence of a seal locking the memories away?" Hiruzen questioned.

"We asked for Jiraiya of the Sannin's involvement, as you suggested, and he reported there was no evidence of fuinjutsu tampering. It may possibly be a secret family technique, but as she isn't from a clan, there is doubt. A newly-erupted kekkei genkai was also considered, but as her bloodline lacks a record, this is also highly doubtful." There was a slight pause. "May I request…continued observation of the child? I have never seen anything quite like this."

"I believe that would be for the best." The Hokage declared.

Namikaze Namie was indeed an anomaly. But whether she would become an asset or threat to Konoha remained to be seen.

* * *

**A/N: **Aaaaand we've reached a turning point in the story. I'm a little nervous about taking this route, but originally I had totally different plans for Namie. This was actually one of my favorite chapters to write, though.

Fun fact: in this chapter's initial draft, there was a scene with Namie and all of the Sannin interacting-but in the end it didn't flow well and no longer had a purpose in what I have planned later on.

Wow, I think the previous chapter received more reviews than any other. I'm glad! And hot damn it's over 200 follows already?

Many thanks for the faves/follows/reads to you silent supporters. And reviewers: **Yayy, SilverRider09, MythologyGirl, Moka-girl, LuzElvaParra17, coronadomontes, KisaragiMarru, Ox King, BakaAndTensaiProductionz, Bananarock509, Sethera, Kasuke. Hagase, Fk306, lilnudger82, Flor, moon so bright, Redleafs16 **and **Justadream1**. Thanks for all your comments and well wishes!

I think certain things commented on in reviews were probably answered with this chapter so no specific replies this time (and if it couldn't be answered it was because I could just go on and on into spoilerific territory which I try to avoid).


	10. Nine: Changes, Distance

Uzumaki Kushina hovered uncertainly outside of the Namikaze sibling's apartment with her hand halfway raised to knock on the door. It was the first time she'd been to visit the place, and after everything that had happened over the past week, her nerves were a bit frazzled.

That, and, when she considered the possibility that she would run into Minato, a mild warmth rose to her cheeks and stubbornly remained. Her hand absently stroked a few strands of scarlet hair at the memory.

She couldn't help but view him in a different light after he'd come to her rescue—and succeeded. It was the first time he'd lent his aid.

He—the boy she'd once scorned for being a soft-hearted, flaky pansy—was _strong_ and _reliable._

And he had faith in her strength, as well.

But most important of all, he changed her heart.

At first, she regretted that she didn't wait at the training grounds just a few more moments for her blonde understudy, as the entire ordeal perhaps could have been avoided, but if that had been the case, she may never have discovered Minato's feelings.

It was the silver lining that transformed misfortune into a blessing.

The situation had caused unrest among Konoha's administration, and almost as soon as they two genin returned the village's outskirts with the Sannin Jiraiya and his search unit, who'd met up with them shortly after the incident's aftermath, the council of Elders as well as the upper clansmen of the Senju were in uproar. Both over the fact that the future jinchuuriki had been kidnapped when Mito's health was in a fragile state, and that Kumogakure had successfully infiltrated their borders and whisked away a refugee that could very well have been one of their natives.

She'd been prepared to become the next container for the Kyuubi since the day she'd learned of her role, but now she realized the matter was pressing down upon her. Uzumaki Mito would not last through the month and the sealing ritual was scheduled to take place within what could only be the oncoming days.

ANBU security had been placed upon her to ensure that a second kidnapping attempt did not occur and that she would remain within Konoha until the Bijuu transfer was completed.

Her movement was limited and ran under a curfew as soon as the sun set, but at the very least she was able to move freely in the residential area during daytime. She wasn't quite certain why she'd ended up at this particular home, but the visit was long overdue.

Kushina hadn't met with Namie since their training session preceding the kidnapping, and the two hadn't exchanged a word since. She'd only recently discovered that the girl's oft-mentioned brother was _Minato_, even.

'_I wonder if she thinks I'm the one who ditched her? She gets kinda bratty when she's mad. She wouldn't know about the kidnapping, either, since it's a pretty hush-hush matter…'_ She recalled the first time she hadn't been present to meet the girl and squirmed guiltily. It had only been a harmless prank—she planned on jumping from a tree and ambushing the girl to test her reflexes, but the plan was spoiled the moment the little blonde burst into tears.

But, she'd grown since then. At least, she hoped.

'_Man, she might really hate me.'_ The redhead rubbed at her head in agitation, and sighed. '_Better get this over with quick, then!'_ She lifted her hand, prepared to knock on the door, but in the same instant, it creaked open.

"Oh," a startled brunette woman breathed as she prepared to step out, only to see a surprised redhead standing in her path. She blinked for a moment, at a loss, before recognition crossed her features. "You're…Kushina-chan, right?" She smiled politely.

There was a rustle, and when Kushina glanced past the woman's form, she spotted a shock of yellow hair that, at that height, could only belong to Namie. In a moment, the blonde girl poked her head out the door as well.

"Kushina-nee-chan?" She spoke plainly, expression revealing no single trace of what the redhead had been dreading.

Kushina bowed to the woman—the siblings' guardian, she realized—and then offered her name. "That's right. Uzumaki Kushina. You must be Taji-san?" After speaking to the older woman, she cast an uncertain grin towards her small friend.

"I am. It's nice to finally meet you." After the genin replied likewise, Taji's eyes briefly scanned the perimeter, and a knowing gleam in her eyes revealed that she was aware of the ANBU tailing the young jinchuuriki-to-be from the shadows. A small smile creased her lips as she glanced down at Namie, who hovered near her elbow and clung to her shirt. "Are you here for this one?"

"Brother isn't here," the girl offered, blinking—and then bristling slightly when Taji reached down to pet her hair. "And—um—Taji-san said I can't train with you for a while, Kushina-nee-chan."

"Ah, really?" Kushina laughed slightly, rubbing the back of her head. It wouldn't surprise her if the woman disapproved of the situation—she'd been worried about that from the start. It had only been a matter of time until her parental figure intervened. "Then, it's a good thing, because I actually can't train you for a while either, 'ttebane! I was just gonna ask if you wanted to get some ramen with me."

Namie looked up at Taji, seeking permission, but the older woman sighed and shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Kushina-chan. Namie's due in for a check-up at the hospital right now. But if you don't mind waiting for her, you're welcome to come along."

When the redhead fidgeted, Namie observed her curiously. It wasn't like her to act nervously around others, but then again, she hadn't seen her interact with adults before. '_Much less the caretaker of her crush.'_ A knowing smirk pulled at the young girl's lips. "Yeah, why don't you come with us, Kushina-nee-chan?"

"I'll pay for lunch afterwards." Taji offered when the other girl continued to look unsure.

Kushina had intended on speaking with Namie alone, but she supposed she would get another chance. There was no way she could turn down a free lunch offer. "Well—when you say that, I can't say no. Let's get going! C'mon, kid." With a grin, she reached out and looped arms with the blonde, dragging her forwards. Namie stumbled, but followed her nonetheless.

At least the atmosphere was comfortable.

By the way the older girl behaved, Namie gathered that she was unaware of her role during the kidnapping situation. Minato hadn't spoken a word of said situation, either, aside from a few vague hints that he'd been speaking with Kushina recently, but it made sense. The Hokage was keeping everything concerning the kidnapping confidential because he still didn't quite trust her. The two genin most likely didn't know of her involvement, but she couldn't be certain. Probably, it was in her best interest to just keep it all to herself.

_'Kushina's going to become the jinchuuriki soon,'_ Namie realized, heart twinging slightly as she glanced up at her friend. The girl was walking briskly, in her usual excited manner, forcing the blonde to match her pace or else she would be dragged—and she didn't put it past the older girl to jerk her around like a ragdoll. She was speaking animatedly about something Namie wasn't quite focusing on, using both hands to emphasize her words. Each time she raised her voice, she had the habit of shifting her head in such a way that her long hair smacked into the blonde's face. The way she was behaving now, Namie never would have believed she'd endured so much pain when she first moved to the village. When she became the jinchuuriki, how would she be viewed, then? _'How will she change?'_

Now that the kidnapping was over, that event was the next in line. She couldn't quite recall how the village treated Kushina as a whole, but from what she could recall, the girl seemed perfectly content as an adult. She would have Minato after all, and (at some point, she recalled) Sasuke's mother as a friend. And herself, as well. For those reasons, she was certain the redhead's life as a young Bijuu container would be much more fortunate than Naruto's would be. At the very least, she couldn't detect even a slight bit of animosity or distrust from her guardian towards the redhead.

"So, Kushina-chan, are you going to participate in the chuunin exams?" Taji commented during a brief lull of silence as she trailed behind the two girls, watching them fondly.

"Yeah, we haven't even talked about that yet. Minato's going with Ayase and Akimichi Chouza." Namie added, grinning proudly as she usually did when her sibling was involved. She briefly realized she'd never heard Kushina talk about her own team, and wondered if she was even part of one. She knew the girl advanced through the rankings and became renowned in Konoha, but the little details of the matter were a complete mystery. "And I'm gonna watch. I want to see you both go."

Kushina smiled a little hesitantly before speaking flippantly, "Nah, not this time! I'm not really ready for it yet, y'know?"

"Huh? But you're so strong." The blonde reacted doubtfully, shrugging. It would have been an interesting turn of events if she and Minato ended up competing.

"Who is your jounin sensei, by the way?" Taji wondered.

"Koemi-sensei from the Senju compound. I've had some guidance from Mito-baa-sama, too, though."

Namie watched the two kunoichis' exchange, pleased that Kushina seemed more comfortable now. But she was also a bit surprised, as this was new information—during training, they rarely spoke about their personal lives. It was a pleasant change.

And, she supposed, the redhead would only get closer to her family from this point on.

* * *

After they left Kushina in a waiting area, Taji led Namie down one of the long, glaringly white hospital hallways—one Namie had never been through during the few times she'd accompanied her guardian to work—that seemed slightly isolated compared to the rest of the building. There were only a handful of nurses around, and the few rooms present were either silent with sleeping patients or devoid of them altogether.

Namie's skin prickled. This wasn't the childcare wing she should have been taken to for a basic check-up.

"Taji-san...where are we going?" She glanced up sharply, wasted no time seeking answers.

The brunette's fingers tensed ever-so-slightly around her hand, but that small reaction alone was all the girl needed to confirm the situation.

The woman's dark eyes met her questioning gaze evenly, revealing nothing. "There's a specialist that wants to see you today."

"Is this about what happened?" Her insides squirmed. _'This is probably about that fake sensory ability. I hope that's all, at least.'_

"Hmm…you could say that." A faint, inscrutable smile crossed her guardian's face. "Don't look so worried; no one will hurt you."

Her heart missed a beat. Namie couldn't help but feel that her smile—and claim—was forced.

Whatever this situation was, it was out of Taji's hands. She knew that much. That meant it had something to do with the upper echelon of Konoha.

Her fears were renewed when Taji prompted her to enter the room at the very end of the hallway alone—a room that contained an ANBU guard and another official-looking yet youthful shinobi with short, dirty blond hair. Probably, he was no older than she'd been as an adult.

"Hello, Namie-chan! My name is Yamanaka Inori. Please, take a seat here." The blond gestured to the stool across from his own chair with a small, affable smile as Taji quietly shut the door, locking her into the closed space.

'_Yamanaka.'_ Namie immediately tensed at hearing the name, glanced briefly at the ANBU who didn't move a muscle, then swallowed down her nerves before pushing herself forwards and sitting down without a word. _'This isn't about the sensory ability. This is…I think this is bad.'_

"Inori-san, I thought I was coming for a check-up today?" She wondered, inflecting her voice into a curious, innocent question. Her palms began to sweat.

"And so you are. This is a…well, it's a mental check-up, to be honest. It's come to my attention that your mind is of particular interest to Konoha." He spoke with a practiced smile, tapping his fingers silently against the armrests of his chair, as he stared straight into her eyes.

"What do you mean?" She queried, eyes widening slightly as she put up her age-appropriate act. She set her hands atop her legs tensely and attempted a grin.

The man's visage remained amiable—and unreadable. Typical for shinobi. "Well, for one, the fact that you were able to realize when Uzumaki Kushina was taken."

Namie froze.

Inori observed her calmly before continuing in a cordial tone that revealed nothing. "You claimed it was similar to a sensory ability, but that's not quite it, is it?"

She worked to formulate a proper response, "I—what? I don't get it—"

He held up a hand upon seeing the girl's shocked expression and shook his head. "You don't appear to be a sensor, but that isn't what this is about. You have a considerable amount of spiritual chakra stored up—not just for your age, but even for an average shinobi. Not only that, but your mental state is…_unique._" He punctuated his sentence by pointing to her forehead.

"What do you mean—" Namie started, feigning ignorance to mask her discomfort, but was once again interrupted as he filled her in on the details of what transpired after Kushina's kidnapping. How the Hokage had sanctioned a thorough search and investigation of her mind, and how she was still under surveillance.

Once the man said his piece, an indignant rage replaced her fear, shattering the childlike front. '_How can they do that? Just—just dig into my mind without my consent? "Under the Hokage's orders" my ass! What about basic human rights?'_ Her eyebrows drew together and she curled her hands into fists, pressing them tightly against her thighs to stem her anger, so tightly that her tensed shoulders trembled. '_But—what did they find out? Nothing about my past life or anything important, obviously, or else another department would no doubt be involved, so…why am I here?'_

The Yamanaka noted her behavior and nodded thoughtfully. "You really do understand what's going on, don't you?"

"_No_," Namie confessed honestly, squinting up at him. "Why—why tell me all of this?" There was no reason to enlighten her when they'd taken such precautions to hide it from her in the first place. It wasn't adding up in her mind. He had an ulterior motive.

The Yamanaka maintained a cool, level gaze as he looked upon the girl. "You're astoundingly advanced for a little six-year-old. Your Academy performance proves that—well, except for your kunoichi class, of course!" He uttered a small, amused chuckle before speaking again, evenly. "You have a strong mind. So strong, in fact, that you successfully diverted my clan's mind probing technique." He explained, as if she hadn't even spoken, while leaning forwards in his seat. "Were you aware of that?"

"…I'm just normal." She disagreed, scowling at the tiled floor. _'I knew those Academy scores would come back to bite me in the ass.'_

"You aren't in trouble or anything, you know. I just thought it would be best if you knew everything upfront." Inori shrugged, and Namie realized he was the type of person who liked to hear himself talk—and had a lot to say. And wasn't very considerate towards children.

There was nothing she could do now to help herself. He'd gone through this entire spiel for something, so she resigned herself to just sitting there and waiting for him to get to the point.

"I want to keep observing your mind, if you'll let me."

And there it was.

'_He wants me as a test subject,'_ she realized, thoughts whirling. _'I'm just an obstacle and he wants to find way to break through, if I really managed to bounce the Yamanaka techniques like he said. For future reference or something like that.'_ It wasn't a favorable situation. She possessed information that would cast further suspicion on herself, and she didn't doubt the Yamanaka sitting before her would be able to locate it if he was determined—even if that wasn't his main objective. No one knew about what _she_ knew, after all, but if it ever fell into the wrong hands…

There was nothing she could do about this—she was cornered. It was better to accept the loss and save her pride for a time she truly needed it. Namie forced her shoulders to relax as she took a deep breath. "Do I have a choice?"

A knowing smirk pulled at the man's lips as he set his elbows on his legs and rested his chin on his palm. "Two, actually." His eyes drifted sideways to the ANBU shinobi before snapping back to the girl's. "The council's verdict is that it would be best for you to either participate in my study, or to take the upcoming genin exam and become an ANBU trainee when you pass. You're clearly talented enough already."

That explained the masked man's presence.

Namie ignored the ANBU and regarded the blond man with a pinched expression, noting that he left no room for her to be left alone and to go free. Her stomach churned at the prospect of both options. Against her will, she'd already been labeled as a young prodigy and if it wasn't that, a _guinea pig._ All because of one small, stupid mistake she'd made in a rushed panic. She wouldn't be surprised if Danzo were to become involved in her fate somehow in the near future, since the _council_ was involved—though she dearly hoped to avoid that matter. Even so, these were her only choices, and she'd mercifully been given the lesser of two evils.

"I'm not talented at all." Namie rejected firmly, though her attitude was resigned. "Alright, Inori-san. I'll turn my mind over to you."

Inori smiled genuinely, eyeing the girl for a moment, then clapped his hands. "Wonderful! We're done here, for now. I'll have you come back in one week's time, in this same place. Keep in mind this is a confidential matter, Namie-chan."

"Just Namie." The girl grumbled, rising to her feet.

When she exited the room, Taji hurried to her side and regarded the girl with a troubled expression—one which Namie met with a disenchanted stare. She continued down the hall briskly, without a word to the older woman, and scarcely paid attention when she heard her footsteps follow after her.

"Namie—" She started, but the word was abrupt and she didn't bother to continue. Instead, she kept her silence and walked beside the girl with downcast eyes.

The blonde's face remained impassive and she kept her lips pressed tightly together until she reached the waiting room where they'd left her redheaded friend. When the girl's violet eyes met her own, an apologetic smile morphed her blank façade.

"Sorry, Kushina-nee-chan. I don't feel very well. Think I'll have to pass on ramen."

"Oh…" Kushina's eyes widened briefly, and the grin that had been quirking the edges of her lips dropped. A crease of worry marred her brow, but she kept her complaints to herself and nodded slowly. "That's okay. We'll go next time for sure!" Her grin was back full-force, now, but lacked in its usual brightness. Something had happened, she knew, but she was completely unaware of what, and it wasn't her place to ask.

After they parted ways outside of the hospital, Namie's gaze lingered in the direction the redhead departed. It was ironic, she thought, that she'd dug herself into this pit over concern for that very girl. She didn't regret it—she would do the same thing over again if it meant helping her friend, because she _cared._ But she began to wonder if maybe she was caring too much.

First and foremost, if she wanted to accomplish anything, she had to look out for _herself._

* * *

Namie regretted breaking her plans with Kushina.

Uzumaki Mito's funeral ceremony was announced to the village three days later and, while the information it implied wasn't publicly disclosed, it meant that the young redhead had become the nine-tailed beast's new jinchuuriki.

The funeral was a grand winter affair. Mito had been the Shodai Hokage's wife, after all, and an accomplished kunoichi in her own right—worthy of a majestic sendoff.

It seemed the entirety of Konoha was present, melding together like a pool of ink in their dark mourning attire to share farewells with the end of an era.

Namie kept close to her brother's side throughout the event, though she kept a sharp eye out for a familiar head of scarlet hair. She knew that Uzumaki Kushina would most likely not be in attendance, but that didn't mean she couldn't hope.

She recalled the girl's words, and felt that it would be a long while before she encountered the Red-hot Habanero again.

* * *

Minato attended the chuunin exams and passed with merit two months after the funeral.

Because of his promotion, Namie's brother was busier than ever, and yet another constant was removed from her life.

Taji was the only semi-consistent presence, but Namie suspected that perhaps she'd been tasked with keeping a watch on her as well, since she reported directly to the Hokage.

For the first time since the very early years of her childhood, she felt incredibly alone.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm so happy the feedback for the last chapter was overall positive! Oh and heads up, I'm going to start posting general review replies to my dreamwidth journal (link in profile, or if you wanna google it yourselves it's also called kettobase) because it's prettier, archived and more expressive, and I'll keep review replies with important info here in the A/N section. Also I'm keeping the thank-you section below because a few of you probably won't want to go through the trouble of linking away to another website just for a reply, so you will still get acknowledgement here!

Thanks for the faves/follows/reads, everyone! And my lovely reviewers, too: **Sethera, Kasuke. Hagase, Ox King, Bananarock509, Littlebirdd, xenocanaan, Anonymous (ch. 5), Anonymous (ch. 7), Anonymous (ch. 8), Anonymous (ch. 9), coronadomontes, MythologyGirl, Flor, LuzElvaParra17,** **Abundant E, nicoakatsuki, ****Jade Celandine, **and** 10th Squad 3rd Seat**.

**Kasuke. Hagase:** On the subject of Tsunade, I think Namie probably won't be running into her for quite a few years. I find it a little odd that the Sannin's actions weren't really mentioned during the 3rd war in canon, I mean what did they do? Regular soldier stuff or what? But Tsunade was most likely too messed up from Dan and Nawaki's deaths and with her hemophobia to really do much in the field as a medic. I think it was sometime before the 3rd war's start that she probably left Konoha with Shizune anyways. That's what I'm going with, anyways.

It's open-ended, really. If any one of you has any suggestions for what to do with Tsunade in this time period, or are just partial to her appearance sometime during this childhood arc, please share. Otherwise she probably won't get a cameo for a long while.

**Ox King:** Ohh I _knew_ this question would crop up sooner or later. A few reviewers have already commented on a Namie and Toboe possibility, but the truth is I do have some ship ideas I might work with. In the future I'm going to put up a handful of polls related to this story and possible pairings will be a topic for one! So the short answer here is nothing has been concretely decided yet.

**Anon from chapter 8: **Yep! For you and anyone else wondering, Namie is approximately 4 years ahead of Kakashi's generation. 6+ years behind Minato's/the parents' generation.

And on that note, Kakashi, Rin and Obito are all going to be the same age in this setting.


	11. Interlude - Minato

**Interlude—Minato**

* * *

Seven long years passed by since the deaths of Minato's parents. His memories of them were becoming hazy fragments; he'd only been six when they died and each year after that drew in an abundance of new memories that replaced the old.

However, some moments would never leave his mind—they were boldly imprinted and would remain with him as long as he could help it because the only concrete memento he had of his parents was a single photograph of the family and it was the very same one he'd shown his sister.

His parents' several expressions were among those particular moments—not the smiles immortalized on film, but the faces they revealed when praising him or sharing a joke. The ones they'd displayed when comforting him when he'd fallen and gotten hurt. The ones he'd been frightened of because he'd done something wrong and gotten in trouble. The ones he could never share with Namie.

He remembered his fathers roguish, slightly mischievous grin, and his mother's livid, terrifying glare that had his knees quaking most poignantly because they'd both been from the day his father decided to go under his wife's nose to teach him how to throw shuriken. He'd earned a few scars and spilled a few more tears, and when his mother found out she was furious. Yet despite her anger, she'd also comforted him with her famous sunny, dimpled smile as she dressed his wounds.

Beyond that, there was only static. His most recent memories of his parents included Namie—unborn at the time.

He recalled his father's final words, from the day he'd departed to the battlefield that also served as his grave:

_Take care of your mother and sister, Minato. Help her grow into someone we can be proud of, as we are proud of you. So, so proud. You're going to become a great Hokage one day—that's still your dream, right? _

He recalled the final words his mother had spoken to him, only moments before they'd received the news of his father's death:

_What do you think your sister should be named, Minato? I'm still not sure, and Sei and I just can't settle on one we both like. If you pick one, I'm sure he'll agree no matter what. So, what do you think?_

After cleaning his mother's gravestone, Minato set a small bouquet of white anemones beside it. They were her favorite flowers. It wasn't often that he was able to come and visit, but when he did, he was sure to bring them. Earlier that day, he'd gone by the Memorial Stone to visit his father since he lacked a grave of his own and left his favorite snack as an offering. It was habit by now to bring small gifts to entertain their spirits while he updated them on daily occurrences.

"Hi, Mom." He began, a fond smile on his lips as he knelt beside the stone slab. "It's been a while since last time. I'm a chuunin now. Didn't Dad also make chuunin by my age?" His question was met with silence, but he believed that his mother could still hear him, wherever her soul may be. Namie also spoke to the graves when she visited, he noticed, so she must have thought the same.

"Jiraiya-sensei's taken me on as an apprentice now. He's going to let me sign the toad summoning contract. As for Namie…" he paused, briefly wondering at her change in attitude over the past few weeks. She seemed a bit ill, and was often taken to the hospital for appointments. "She's in her second year at the Academy. I'm taking care of her, and so is Taji, but I wish I could be around more. She's really talented with taijutsu. But, sometimes I'm a little worried. She doesn't really have any friends…Well, there's one, but she's not her age. She's actually, well…"

He continued on, giving the same report to her as the one he shared with his father, concerning daily life, how many missions he'd completed (he was assigned his first official A-rank just today and was preparing to depart with Ayase and two other chuunin) and how his teammates were faring. He also shared news of Kushina, albeit in vague words. Most of what concerned her was confidential information and could not be treated lightly. But he did, at least, mention how he'd oftentimes seen Namie and Kushina running together around Konoha.

At first, learning that the two were acquainted had been quite the shock. The two, while somewhat similar with their tomboyish ways, couldn't be more different. Kushina was a spitfire and Namie was practical and a bit reserved. Not to mention the age gap. But, despite the odds, the two had come to accept each other. It was no wonder Namie was improving so rapidly in the taijutsu field.

He still wondered if Namie ever planned to share that friendship if he hadn't found out on his own.

He also wondered whether or not the redheaded Uzumaki had some sort of magnetic effect on the Namikaze siblings. What were the odds that they would both be attracted to her, although in different ways? He'd never met another Uzumaki, but it was quite possible that they all possessed a special property that had certain people gravitate towards them.

He wondered, idly, whether or not his parents would also feel the same way towards the girl, and a brief loneliness seized him when he realized he would never know.

Minato was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar presence lingering near the cemetery's entrance.

"Minato? Sorry to interrupt, but are you ready for the mission? We're meeting at the front gate in ten minutes." His Hyuuga teammate called, mindful that there were no other visitors she would disturb with her voice.

"Right. I'm coming." He replied, rising to his feet and brushing off his pants. He glanced once more at his mother's memorial before hurrying towards Ayase.

It was silly to feel lonely.

Even if his parents were gone, he wasn't alone. He had Jiraiya, and Ayase, and Ginta. He had Taji. He had his sister.

And now, he had Kushina.

* * *

**A/N:** Quick update for the short interlude and quick note as well. Next chapter will probably be up in a week or so! Review replies for both the previous chapter and this break chapter will be posted on my dreamwidth journal (kettobase) sometime before the next update because summer allergies and headaches have thrown me for a loop and I haven't had a chance to get those done yet.

Thanks for the faves/follows/reads! And also to you amazing reviewers:

**Cytokinesis, Littlebirdd, MythologyGirl, Bananarock09, Redleafs16, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, coronadomontes, Sethera, Kasuke. Hagase, Vaughn Tyler, Flor**, **Guest, Deluxemclovin, **and **thelonelylovechild. **

_**THANK YOU ALL FOR GETTING **__**LATERALITY ****TO 100 REVIEWS I'M VERY EXCITED ABOUT THIS!**_


	12. Ten: Approach, Realization

Pinpricks. A veil of static white-noise. A barrage of fleeting blips of memories she felt had been misplaced—some familiar, others not.

Every time Namie was released from the Yamanaka mind jutsu and returned to reality, that was the only way she could describe the sensation. It was uncomfortable. It was invasive, but only because she wasn't sure just what Inori was seeing when he dove into her thoughts. He never commented on the content, either—not once during the past six months she'd been under his study.

At the very least, it was never her foreknowledge of _their_ world—she was certain of that, because if he _had_ stumbled across that information, the Hokage, and definitely Torture and Interrogation (and probably more Yamanakas), would become involved.

She shook her head to clear the vertigo as she cast a weary glance towards her jounin senior. "Do we _have_ to do this before I go to the Academy? It's really draining, you know."

The young blond continued to jot notes down, entertaining the girl's grousing with a brief, amused smirk. "It's only once a week."

"And why is he still here?" She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, towards the ANBU with the porcelain monkey mask that was regularly present during her appointments. "Do you think I'm dangerous? I'm _seven._" She scoffed.

"You sure complain a lot, Namie-chan." The man hummed.

"Didn't I say to drop the honorific? And I'm not a morning person." A level stare was aimed at the Yamanaka as she spoke.

Inori finished writing his report and rolled up the scroll as he eyed the girl in an exasperated manner. He'd never expected her to be such a disagreeable brat. "To answer your questions, one: I'm a busy person and mornings are the best time for this. Two: no, you aren't dangerous, but we have to follow certain protocols. Three: yes, you did, but 'Namie-chan' is _much_ cuter and serves to offset your rough personality." He smiled winsomely, flashing his pearly whites.

As usual, he liked to hear his own voice. _'Creep.' _Namie simply gave him a cool glare in return. "What did you find out today, anyways?"

"That you're as stubborn as always?" The blond commented lightly, but refused to divulge anything further. He tapped the scroll on his desk thoughtfully before blinking over at the girl, expression unreadable. "There's no need to meet next week. I have a mission that'll take a while, so I'll be sure to let you know when the following appointment is to take place. Alright?"

The younger blonde rose to her feet, sighing. She didn't know why she expected him to say anything different, this time. "Fine. See you around, Inori-san. Monkey."

Once the girl slid the thin door shut behind her and her loud footsteps faded, the man in the ANBU mask held his hand out for the scroll. "That's the first I've heard of you having a mission in the past year, Inori." A deep, youthful voice rang out, muffled behind the cold porcelain.

The Yamanaka gave a slight shrug as he handed off the report scroll and rose to his feet, stretching out his stiff joints "It was a lie. But you saw how tired she looked, right?"

Monkey tucked the scroll safely away into one of his back pockets and nodded. "Aftereffect of the jutsu?"

"You're so perceptive, Saru!" The blond grinned, to which he could almost see the eyeroll behind the other man's mask. "She was starting to look sick. Her mind may be strong, but her body isn't and she needs breaks every now and then or it'll be counterproductive for all of us." Inori explained, waving a hand dismissively.

"I see. Are you coming to see Hiruzen this time, or are you staying to look in on patients?"

"You _still_ call him that?" Inori sighed, pushing his fingers through his short hair and mussing it without a care. He didn't bother awaiting a reply that wouldn't even come and began heading out into the hallway. "The latter. It _is _a busy day."

Without another word, the two parted ways.

* * *

Namie barely managed to suppress a yawn as she lazily glanced around her classroom. Ever since the new year began and chakra control exercises, among other things, had been introduced, the talentless children were weeded out. It seemed a bit callous, but in such an efficient in-and-out shinobi training system, resources couldn't be wasted on those who would never prosper. The civilian life awaited those who couldn't improve.

She was simply grateful that she was one of the few who remained.

What was once two classrooms full of young shinobi-to-be was now a single classroom with half the seats occupied. She and Suzume were now the only kunoichi present among a handful of boys.

Even though these other children would most likely be in her graduating class and become a part of her genin team in the future, she didn't bother learning their names-though some commanded her attention more than others. There was one annoyingly nerdy kid with sunglasses who sat in the front near her perm-haired friend and always answered questions the chuunin teachers threw out. Her new desk mate was an irritatingly calm kid who was always chewing on some kind of wooden toothpick or dango skewer—he'd been part of the other class, she was certain, because most of her old classmates were gone. The majority of her new class consisted of the students from their sister class, in fact.

'_At least he doesn't bother me like the idiot dog kid.'_ Namie shrugged, setting her chin down atop her crossed arms, sprawled atop the desk, as the teacher droned on about what was going to be covered on their upcoming history test. Said Inuzuka brat had taken to avoiding her since their last encounter, so there were no distractions to occupy herself with.

It was all boring. She was receiving information she already knew, and didn't even need. They were all words she would scarcely make use of on paper.

Ever since the kidnapping incident and Hokage's ensuing surveillance, Namie had taken to rebelling, though in a small way. She continuously slacked off in her special kunoichi classes, happily dropped her core class ranking down a few notches, and intentionally held back during ninjutsu and weapons classes. But never taijutsu class—she had her pride, and it would never let her shame her favorite subject.

The teachers didn't think much of it, and if they did, they never expressed concern. She wasn't exactly what could be described as a teacher's pet or class favorite, what with the way she glared grumpily during lectures and slept or stared out the window when she lost interest, so they probably assumed she was finally getting her just desserts for her lack of effort. As long as she kept hers grades afloat, they let her be.

It didn't bother her. Training with Kushina was always much more enlightening than studying in the stuffy Academy anyways, and she was greatly looking forward to the time when she could reunite with her redheaded friend.

When the urge came to yawn again, Namie failed to suppress it. However, it was at that moment that the class was dismissed for recess and booted outside to socialize and work on interaction with others.

As per routine, the small blonde girl settled herself away from the groups of hyperactive children to avoid being roped into whatever tiring events they started up that afternoon. Usually, she spent her time passively watching. Others, she spent studying scrolls containing information about the history of Konoha. More often than not, she pretended to nap while contemplating her position in this world and what options were available to her. Today was a bit more windy than she liked and she was in no mood to hold down a windblown scroll or book pages, so she engaged in the latter.

"Hey."

But the day had other plans for her aside from the typical peace, it seemed.

When a child's voice sounded from somewhere above her head, Namie lazily opened an eye to see just who decided to intrude on her tranquility. It was her desk mate. The brunet stood over her with his hands in his pockets, looking detached with a calm expression and lazily half-lidded eyes, as if he hadn't just come over to interrupt her.

"Can I help you?" Namie sighed, opening her other eye to send him a sharp stare, not bothering to move from her comfortable slouched position against a tree. The boy didn't flinch, as most others did when she aimed her snipped tone at them—the one that openly read "piss off and go back to your lame friends."

"Wanna come play with us? We need an even number." The kid explained.

She glanced towards the group of children he pointed at, who were also looking her way—some more obviously than the others who tried their best to ignore her and failed.

"Why don't you just have someone sit out instead? Or pick someone else." Her gaze wandered across the closed-in expanse of the sandy playground. There were at least five others he could have approached. Two playing hopscotch close to the school building, one picking at bugs in the wet soil near the chain-link fence in the far corner, and three huddled close together under the shade of a nearby tree, reading a magazine of some sort and bickering. Well, they all looked to be more occupied than she was and even less interested, but that was no reason to approach her when she was pretending to nap.

"Because that wouldn't be fun." He responded easily, shrugging. "Besides, you never play with us."

"So?" She rolled her eyes skyward, observing the small, blotchy patches of clear blue sky that were visible between the oscillating tree leaves.

"Everyone says you're kinda scary, you know. But I told 'em you're not." The boy grinned around the wooden skewer in his mouth. "If I bring you over, Ebisu'll give me like six vouchers for free dango. I'll share them with you."

'_Ebisu?'_ Namie sat up straighter and glanced towards the group of children, brow furrowed. She'd been sure no known canon characters were in her year. There were two kids with dark sunglasses in the group, and she was sure one of them was Yama-something-or-other. That meant the other was Ebisu—probably the scrawny, shrimpy-looking one. Then, did that mean more minor characters were among them? She had no idea what they looked like as children compared to their adult counterparts, but maybe names would ring familiar.

"Oi, Genma, I told you Strawhead won't play!" Toboe's distinctively loud voice crowed. "She's no fun!"

'_Genma? As in…the chuunin exam Genma?'_ She sat up a little straighter as she peered up at her desk mate with a curious squint. The skewer between his teeth should have tipped her off, she realized—though later it would be a senbon. This guy was no doubt a smaller, cuter version of Shiranui Genma.

She was surrounded by canon characters and she hadn't even realized it.

It set her on edge.

For now, she would have to bear with it.

Namie slowly rose to her feet, brushing off the back of her dress with a practiced sigh—the usual sign that she was irritated with the ever-present children. "Well, as long as I get something out of it. Fine, I'll play."

She _did_ have a soft spot for sweets. Especially when they were free.

Most of the group displayed wide-eyed surprise as she approached them with her desk mate. The Inuzuka noticeably avoided meeting her gaze, looking discontent. Aside from the boys she'd already seen, there was another brunet with a red band around his face, across his nose, and another with gray hair. Suzume was also present.

"Ah, Ultra Perm. I didn't think you played with the boys." Namie couldn't help but blurt out in bemusement_. 'Miss Priss is actually more of a kid than I thought.'_

Suzume's face reddened as her lips pulled down into a frown. Before anything more could be said, she turned on her heel and hurried away with her nose in the air.

The blonde shrugged briefly before addressing the group as a whole. One less problem to worry about. "So, what are we playing? It better be worth my time or someone's gonna be sorry." She took a certain measure of joy in the hesitation her schoolyard bully attitude invoked from them.

Genma opened his mouth to speak, but one of the bespectacled boys quickly interjected, "_Is it true you're a disciple of the Red-hot Habanero?_" His words were spoken quickly, slurred together in his excitement, though the blonde caught the gist of his question-particularly the _Habanero_ part of it.

"H-huh?" Namie openly balked, jaw unhinging.

"Toriichi said he's seen you two training together, before." Glasses-kid clarified.

"_Ebisu!_" The gray-haired boy hissed with a violent thump to his friend's shoulder. He momentarily eyed the blonde girl, looked away, then glanced back, resigned. "I wanted to know how you got so good at taijutsu, so I followed you once. Is it true?"

Namie briefly noted that the shrimpy one with stark black glasses was indeed Ebisu before she crossed her arms and addressed the gray-haired boy roughly. "Why do you care, stalker?" Catering to a bunch of nosy kids was far from her list of priorities.

The gray-haired boy balked slightly when he was called out, but before he could defend himself, the Inuzuka spoke up.

"Yeah, who cares. Who's this 'Habanero,' anyways?" Toboe scoffed, crossing his arms.

"I just came to play a game." Namie frowned, setting her hands on her hips. For once, she agreed with the dog boy. She didn't know why they cared so much.

"Habanero-sama is a legend," the other boy with red-lined glasses piped up. "It's said she's the strongest kunoichi in Konoha."

The brunet with the red band across his face shrugged. "Come to think of it, I knew a guy whose brother got pulverized by her."

'_Habanero-_sama?_' _Namie bristled under the curious stares and then turned an accusing glance towards Genma. "What's with this Q&amp;A? This isn't about a game at all, huh?"

The kid with the red sunglasses smirked while adjusting said object on the bridge of his nose. "Actually, the game was to find out if you're associated with the Red-Hot Habanero or not. We made a bet, and the winners get free dango for a week."

"Aoba," Genma complained, frowning. "You're not supposed to tell her that." Despite his words, he appeared entertained by the situation.

"What about _my_ free dango?" Namie challenged, eyes narrowing.

"Genma, you did _not_ bribe her with dango to get her over here," Toboe commented, looking unimpressed. "Are you really that easy, Strawhead?"

"I'd like to see you do better." Genma shrugged.

"You don't even have any to offer," added Ebisu, holding up a stack of voucher tickets that was no doubt the betting pool.

Namie squinted at the boy before snatching the vouchers out of his hand. When the others made to protest, startled by her sudden move, she rose up to her full height (which was no taller than even the shortest boy in the group) and frowned. "You're all wrong. Kushina-nee-chan is my _friend._ And betting on something like that is stupid." Despite her small stature, she _did_ have the reputation as the top taijutsu user in class, so they were wary to experience her wrath. "Actually, gambling at such a young age is dumb and illegal." Her eyes trailed down to the pack of tickets in her hand and she fanned them idly. "Ah, there's contraband here. Right here, in my hand. What do you think Sensei would say?"

"You wouldn't—" Aoba started, but was cut off by the one boy whose name Namie had yet to hear-one of the tallest ones, second to Genma.

"How about we make a new bet, then, and include you?" The others stared at him as if he'd spontaneously sprouted another head, while Namie glanced down at the vouchers thoughtfully.

"Continue." She decided coolly, raising her eyes to meet his.

Once he saw that he'd hooked her interest, the boy with the red band across his face explained. "Genma here is pretty good with throwing weapons, like senbon and kunai. I noticed you're not too bad, either, Namie-san. How about the two of you compete to see who can hit the most targets?" If the girl's sparring matches were anything to go by, she was the competitive type who couldn't resist a challenge.

She stared at him a moment, gauging his sincerity, before nodding in approval. "Okay. Let's talk prizes."

"If Genma wins, we all get our vouchers back. But if you win, you keep the lot."

Namie's lips split into a smug grin. "But, you see, I already _have_ the lot. What makes you think I'll hand it over?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"What do you—_oh._ You're sneaky." While the pile of coupons was once in her hand, it was now within the grasp of the spikey-haired boy. Namie set her hands on her hips and cocked her head slightly, feeling jilted and suddenly territorial over the offer for free snacks. "But...I like the sound of this. I'm in."

"Where are we going to get the tools though, Raidou?" Ebisu questioned.

"Are you kidding? The teachers are at lunch now and they don't even keep the storage room locked!" Toriichi interjected quickly, with a light scoff.

The spiky-haired boy, Raidou, nodded. "He's right. We've snuck some things out before when we were bored."

Genma shook his head. "You guys are criminals…" He sighed in response to the scathing look the blonde girl shot his way. "Anyways, I guess we're gonna do this. Better hurry so we don't get caught. Yuuichi-sensei will give us all extra lessons if we mess up."

'_Just extra lessons? For a petty theft?'_ Namie wondered dubiously as she eyed the group of boys.

"Alright. You guys stay here, we'll make it fast." Aoba decided.

"I'll handle lookout." Toboe offered up as he, Ebisu, Aoba, and Toriichi headed towards the building.

Namie glanced between the two boys she was left with, briefly considering how much trouble she would get into if she just beat them up and took the prize without having to participate in a stupid competition. Her knuckles cracked as she reflexively curled her fingers into her palms. Probably, she would go for Raidou first, since he was shorter than Genma, looked a little spacier, and currently had the coupons in his possession...

"Don't."

She whipped her head around, eyes narrowing slightly, as Genma spoke up. He chewed on the wooden skewer carefully before speaking again.

"You're the best at taijutsu in our class, but I don't think you could win a two-on-one fight."

'_I don't even know that much about him, but I guess he's not stupid.'_ Namie considered after rolling her eyes and crossing her arms again. He had a point.

Soon, the little group of thieves returned and the entire gathering hurried towards the training grounds where the targets were set up. Namie briefly wondered why the three teachers in charge of their class all took a lunch break at the same time when there were such crafty little kids wandering around outside. Maybe they just had a lot of faith in them. Either that or they didn't care.

The small training area was stationed behind the school, far enough away from any windows that it was out of the immediate notice. It was fenced off and locked up tight, but the resourcefulness of the boys revealed that there was a loose section of chain-link that they could easily squirm through. Once they were all within the area, save for Toriichi, who was keeping watch this time around, Toboe handed Genma and Namie two holsters filled with kunai each. She judged they had about a dozen weapons between them.

"Who's going first?" Raidou questioned.

"Rock-paper-scissors?" Genma asked, side-glancing the blonde, and when she nodded they faced each other and played out the game. The end result was rock to paper. "I guess it's me."

The group stood back as Genma extracted his kunai and prepared to launch them towards the straw target circles. "We're aiming for the bullseye for it to count, right?"

"Right." Aoba confirmed. "Whoever hits the most centers wins."

"Got it."

He swiftly released the weapons and the end result was two bullseyes, with three hitting the general vicinity of the middle and one bouncing off and landing uselessly in the dirt.

"Just two?" Toboe complained, looking unimpressed as he helped Genma collect his kunai. "Hope you didn't go easy on her 'cause she's a _girl._"

Namie made sure to knock her shoulder into the Inuzuka's as she passed him by and scoffed, "he has enough sense not to."

The chatter died down as she readied her aim and observed the targets. She'd gotten kunai-throwing tips from Minato, yet the heavy metal object still felt awkward within her grasp. She wasn't certain if it was because of her small hands or because what she was holding was a weapon of _death_, but her typical success rate of hitting was about fifty-fifty. She had faith she could bury at least two in the center of the closest target, and possibly one more in the next nearest mark.

She threw her first kunai, and it landed in the center of a target with a sound thunk. Her second missed the mark completely, but as she prepared to launch the third, Toriichi loudly interrupted. "Yuuichi-sensei's out! He's looking for us!"

The weapon tipped out of her hand as she startled, and everyone quickly began to scramble back towards the loose part of the fence. Since Namie was the farthest away, she was the last to trail after them.

"Wait! Don't just leave the kunai or they'll know someone took them!" Toboe hissed, motioning for the blonde to fetch the tools after squeezing through the small gap in the chain-link. "We'll put them back later but just get them!"

Namie clicked her tongue, but turned quickly on her heel and hurried towards the targets to retrieve the kunai.

Once she'd finished, she was the last left in the area. She quickly tucked the two kunai holsters into her large front pocket and rushed towards the opening in the gate. It was heavier than she'd expected. "Dammit!" She hissed, cursing her young age for the zillionth time, as she shoved her shoulder hard against the links and shimmied her way past, ignoring the way the hard metal dragged across her skin. As soon as she was mostly past it, the fence swung back and clamped around her ankle, sending her crashing to the hard ground.

Something twisted painfully around her knee area, but she ignored it and jerked her leg free before scrambling to her feet.

But as soon as she was up, a hand clamped down over her shoulder.

"Namie! What are you doing by the practice grounds? Not causing more trouble, I hope...that's the last thing you need with _your_ grades." One of the teachers—who she now knew as Yuuichi-sensei, a young chuunin with short-cropped dark hair and a perpetually irritated face who had the strange idea that she was always up to mischief—admonished her harshly. "It's time to get back to class. Let's go."

The moment he moved her forwards, she stumbled on her bad leg and bit her lip to keep from crying out as a sharp throb pulsed through it. In her haste to do this, she hadn't realized the kunai holsters managed to slip out of her pocket and topple to the ground.

Yuuichi took a moment to stare at the pilfered weapons before casting the blonde child an exasperated frown.

Namie chose to remain silent as she favored her injury and looked the other way, feigning interest in a passing butterfly.

The lanky man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even want to know. Let's go get you fixed up, and…then I'm telling Taji-san." He bent to retrieve the kunai before reaching out to help the girl limp her way along.

* * *

Taji remained silent while examining the small girl's swollen knee. Yuuichi had wrapped it for her as temporary means since there were no medical nin near the school, but instead of leaving Namie to struggle all the way home she decided to deal with it immediately and heal what she could. "It's sprained." She determined, then set to work on regenerating the torn ligaments with her chakra to give the healing process a kickstart.

Namie pursed her lips. '_I thought as much.'_ She glanced towards her teacher, who'd remained after putting a compress around her knee, anticipating that he would explain the situation and rat her out. He caught her eye briefly before turning towards the brunette woman.

"I'm not surprised. She was training without supervision during lunchtime."

"Namie?" Taji's eyes widened.

Yuuichi nodded. "She managed to swipe some kunai from the storage room somehow and I found her leaving the practice area."

"I—I don't know what to say. She doesn't usually…" The medic trailed off as she checked the status of her charge's injury and pressed her lips together unsurely. She knew Namie was having difficulties focusing and even performing during exams lately, and her attitude had been less than cheerful. All of this since—

Since the kidnapping incident and its aftermath.

"I know she isn't a…bad kid. Just a little unruly." The chuunin shrugged a little helplessly. "I want what's best for her, though, so I'll have to punish her to make her reflect on her actions." He fixed the blonde with a calculating stare before sighing. "Namie, take the next few days to think about what you did. I want you to write up a formal apology while you're gone, too. Tsubame-sensei works hard to keep inventory straight so there are enough weapons for everyone, you know."

"Yes, sensei." Namie muttered, nodding. Maybe he _did_ care—either that or he was just soft on injured kids. She expected him to gripe at her and expel her or something.

"Thank you, Yuuichi-sensei." Taji finished tending to the girl's knee and replaced the compress, then turned her back and knelt down slightly. The girl obediently climbed onto her guardian's back and wrapped her arms loosely around her neck.

The trip home was silent.

Taji briefly registered that this was the first time she'd ever carried the child on her back—and the first time in a very long while that she'd even held her at _all._

A certain distance was present between them. The older woman wasn't sure if it was because of the way she began to perceive the child when it became clear that she was not as immature or reliant upon her elders as most children her age were, or because she feared, deep down, that she could never measure up to the girl's real mother.

She was a guardian, yes, but not quite a parent.

It was different with Minato. The bond between them would never be familial, because both of them could remember Harumi and Sei. When they'd both passed away, he wasn't in need of a replacement and was more than capable of taking care of himself for the most part. They were comfortable and satisfied as caretaker and dependent.

But with Namie…

She was there from the moment of her birth, when she was a small, pink-cheeked wriggling thing swathed in fluffy blankets, barely ever making a peep and always, always staring around with wide-eyed wonder.

She'd done her best to raise the child into what she was in the present, as if she were her own. Though, at times she regretted being unable to be more prominent in the girl's life. Being part of ANBU as well as a medic nin was quite the demanding lifestyle. Partway, she also blamed the war for taking her away from the child.

Ever since its end, Taji was able to remain within the village for much longer periods of time due to her interest in childcare studies. However, after the kidnapping incident, after the observations ordered by the Hokage… there was little she could do to protect the girl and keep her away from potential harm. Nothing she could say would change the Hokage's mind, and he wouldn't even sway when she asked to be the ANBU tasked with watching over the girl.

Namie's arms tensed minutely. For her still, rhythmic breathing and quietude, the woman believed she may have been asleep. Yet a moment after the movement, she spoke in a low tone next to her ear. "Don't tell Minato."

It was breathed so quietly that she almost doubted the girl had spoken at all.

"Hm?" Taji's pace slowed. When the girl didn't speak again, she resumed her stride and continued home.

It wasn't until Namie was set to rest on the small couch in their living room that she repeated her words. "Don't tell Minato." She didn't bother keeping her voice quiet, as the boy in question wasn't home. He'd been working closely with Jiraiya for the past few weeks.

Taji considered the girl's words briefly, puzzled over why she would want to keep such a small injury obscured, until the true meaning behind the girl's words struck her.

Because her visits to the hospital were frequent, and the observations were deemed confidential, it became necessary to create a plausible excuse for the appointments. The current cover was digestive issues and stomach problems—which already considerably worried the girl's brother, though after a few weeks he'd gotten used to her constant checkups.

Namie was never the type to like drawing attention to herself or causing worry, but more than that, she hated being a source of worry for her older sibling.

Regardless, she was under orders from the Hokage. There was no way she would ever reveal the truth, and Minato had no idea. She wasn't entirely certain whether Namie was aware of this or not. After all, not even family members were privy to certain information.

"I know." Taji replied gently, smiling as she sat down beside the girl and smoothed back her hair. "I won't."

"Thank you, Taji."

Taji. _Just_ Taji. No honorific. The woman's fears that the child could possibly resent her for her failures were eased from her mind.

Perhaps the bond could be renewed after all.

* * *

**A/N:** Not my favorite chapter, but here it is! Like I mentioned in my profile, I've adjusted the ages of a few characters' age groups here for this fic because of Kishimoto's confusing tendency to draw characters in a way that doesn't always correspond to their official ages. Not only that, but seriously where's the huge canon timeline? It would help immensely if Kishimoto produced one because I can only get so far with speculation, fanmade timelines and my own interpretations. Anyways, because these are pretty much super minor characters the class assignment shift from Kakashi's and etc generation to Namie's generation isn't a big deal. Some of them are just too old (and sometimes too young, like Anko and Hayate, what are you two even doing there?) to be in that class group and it perplexes me so much. But, well, that's that.

Thanks soooo so much for the faves/follows/reads! And also to you amazing reviewers: **try10, KisaragiMarru, Sethera, Vaughn Tyler, coronadomontes, Kasuke. Hagase, thelonelylovechild, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, BakaAndTensaiProductionz, Guest (ch 2), MythologyGirl, Uncertain Shifter, Sin of the Fallen, TheRavenSlayer13 **and **Flor.** It's nice to see I've gotten a usual crowd as well as some new faces popping in! General review replies are in the usual place on my dreamwidth journal (kettobase).

**Guest (ch 2):** Oho! I'm curious, which websites did_ you _use to find out the meaning of Namie's name?

**Uncertain Shifter: **Thank you for your tactful honesty, I completely agree with you! After all, even Itachi enrolled in ANBU at only ten years old and while I don't think it would be _impossible_ to have very skilled children enroll at a younger age under certain circumstances, even just for beginner training and acclimation, it would realistically be a _very _rare—and possibly very controversial—thing. But for Namie? She's not _that_ special of an exception even with recent discoveries and she is still just six. If anything, Danzo might choose to keep an eye on her and scoop her up for Root if he deemed her a worthy investment.

Anyways, keep in mind what the Hokage actually sanctioned from the previous chapter. Inori just says what he wants to get under people's skin and see their reactions when he has the opportunity—he's going to be that type of obnoxious character. Giving her the two options (which was really only ever one) pushed her voluntarily in the direction he wanted because he recognized her as the type to shy away from inconveniences and choose the less demanding prospect. She didn't even notice the manipulation tactic.

I hope that all made sense. If anyone else has any concerns or curiosities about things like this, _please_ don't hesitate to comment as I'm more than happy to provide answers or feedback given that you phrase them in a civil manner (as in as long as you don't rudely flame it which actually hasn't happened for this story yet, surprisingly).

See you next time.


	13. Eleven: Adapting, Moving Forward

"_Kushina,_ did ya hear a word I said?"

The redheaded kunoichi glanced up sharply when her mentor rapped loudly on the chalkboard and she met the older woman's pouty green glare with a slightly annoyed frown. "Of course, Koemi-sensei. I was totally paying attention. You said the technique takes a lot of concentration 'cause it can drain chakra quickly."

The woman brushed a suntanned hand through her short, wavy hair and set her other hand on her hip. "I can tell just by that that somethin's distractin' ya. I mean I know ya prefer practical lessons 'n' all, but information's important, too." She huffed out an annoyed breath. "If yer wantin' to go to the chuunin exams anytime soon, ya gotta remember the basics."

"Basics shmasics. Is the village even gonna _let_ me try to advance rank?" Her frown deepened as she leaned her cheek moodily on her hand, idly tracing patterns against a piece of paper with her fingers. The ink had long since dried and she hadn't taken any notes for the past half-hour, stuck inside her own head instead.

Not that it even _felt_ like it was her own anymore.

Ever since the Kyuubi had been transferred from the late Mito to herself, the great, overwhelming presence of the other being's colossal chakra pressed upon her consciousness in dull, though painful, pangs almost constantly. It was contained, of course—held back by the best of fuinjutsu, yet the invasive creature was still _present._

Part of the training with Senju Koemi was to adjust to the feeling, and to harness the power, yet she'd been forbidden to use it by the high council. The Kyuubi was the strongest of all the Bijuu, after all, and she was a newly designated jinchuuriki. Certain failsafes had been set in place to prevent any unfortunate incidents and her current actions were limited.

Even her mission assignments had suffered. Her active duty had been put on hold until she received enough training to assure the Senju clan, Hokage, and Elders that she was trustworthy in her role.

It was likely she wouldn't be deemed fully capable of handling the tailed beast until she was an adult.

But the worst part of the situation was the _feeling._ The hateful whispers that brushed against her mind, intruding into her thoughts, threatening her. If she slipped, even just for a moment, she feared the Kyuubi would try to break free from its bonds and steal control.

How had Mito handled it?

Was she able to suppress the awful feeling only because of the love she'd gained?

She'd been told over and over not to hate anything, not even the Kyuubi, and to fill herself with love, but in her current situation, it was difficult to obey that advice.

Besides, who could love her now that she hosted the terrible, feared beast? It was difficult even being near her mentor at times, even though she never displayed a hostile or disgusted reaction to being close to a jinchuuriki.

"Chakra chains come in handy around Bijuu, ya know." The tanned kunoichi provided, humming offhandedly, as if she could read the redhead's current predicament.

Kushina's eyes brightened. "I was paying attention, really!" She grabbed her ink brush as she spoke and swiftly copied down the notes on the chalkboard, splattering droplets of ink across the desk in her rush.

An amused smile twisted Koemi's lips as she crossed her arms. "Yeah…ya sure were." There was a minute's pause while she waited for the young Uzumaki to catch up. "So, 'bout those chains…why don't we move on t' the practical application an' see how ya fare?"

A broad grin spread across the girl's face. "Let's do it, 'ttebane!"

* * *

Namie tangled her fingers into the chain-link fence surrounding the training grounds, leaning most of her weight against it to ease the pressure on her healing knee. Almost a week had passed since she'd been "suspended" from the Academy, and Taji had nicely healed up her leg since then—though, she insisted she keep it wrapped and refrain from standing on it for too long for another two or three days to make sure her hard work didn't go undone.

In the distance, just a few meters away, Jiraiya was instructing Minato in Senjutsu. Or at least, she supposed that's what it was supposed to be. It was some sort of meditation technique that required her brother to remain very still. Though they weren't too far away, and she was still able to make out the small details of their facial expressions, hearing their words was difficult.

She'd already seen Minato summon one of his toads—a young, somber-looking thing he introduced as Gamaken—so she knew that his was now one of the many names present on the toad summoning contract.

That fact did little to help her determine what events were still pending.

Namie hadn't been able to make progress with her plans since Kushina's kidnapping. The girl was definitely a jinchuuriki now, so the next major event in the timeline she anticipated was the start of the third war. Though, the exact date of said event was unknown.

Her position in the _canon timeline_ was still unknown.

While pondering this, her eyes drifted towards her brother's goofy teacher. She couldn't recall any information of him regarding the third war, nor could she recall Tsunade's or the other Sannin's name ever cropping up during that particular time period. Probably, Tsunade and Shizune left Konoha before the war's start. It was the only reason she could think of for such an esteemed medic to be absent during such a gruesome war. As for Jiraiya…perhaps he was occupied with undercover missions. Either that, or he played the role of a traveling hermit writing his novels. And Orochimaru?

'_When did he defect from Konoha? Or rather, when _does_ he?_'

The gaping holes in her knowledge bothered her. She quickly released her hold on the fence when she noticed her knuckles were white and felt the thin metal bite into her skin with deep indents. Her brow furrowed as she rubbed the feeling back into her fingers.

"Now that's a really uncute look you got there."

Namie's eyes darted up to see the white-haired Sannin standing on the other side of the fence before her. One quick glance revealed that Minato was still sitting in the distance meditating. She narrowed one eye suspiciously as she returned her attention to Jiraiya.

This was the first time they'd spoken since the kidnapping incident. It was a mystery just how much he knew about her involvement and her subsequent reveal as a person of interest within the village.

The sage held his hands up in mock-surrender with an eyeroll at the girl's reaction. She was all business, this one. Even gruffer than Tsunade, at such a young age already.

"Can I help you, Jiraiya-san?" She asked in a tone that belied her round, childish face.

And here he thought _Minato_ was mature for his age. Speaking with this child was the equivalent of trying to make small talk with the uppity desk clerk at the library.

She was a strange kid—though, he'd known that for a while now.

"Well, I thought maybe you'd have more fun over there with your brother. We're not doing anything dangerous today, so it's fine if you're close by." He grinned.

Namie averted her gaze and chewed on her lip. She hadn't meant to be so abrupt with him. The thought that he was privy to whatever confidential information that concerned her—and the fear that perhaps he would let something slip to Minato—brought about a stifling uneasiness. She wanted nothing more than to avoid the sage. Her eyes traveled once more towards her sibling. "Strange, you'd think it would be better to leave him alone while he's meditating."

Jiraiya's face fell. "I—come on, I'm just trying to be nice here."

"Sorry."

"Guess you're the kind of kid who can't hold her tongue, huh?" The Sannin set his hands on his hips as he surveyed the small girl. She certainly didn't bother with trying to sound sincere. "In any case, it's good to see you're well."

Namie pointed out her wrapped knee with slight irritation. "As well as I can be." Her eyes traveled up to study the sage's young face. "Something tells me you didn't come here just to check up on me." They held an even stare. "How much do you know?"

He shrugged his shoulders languidly as he lowered his voice. "Enough." He broke away from their staring contest and cast his eyes towards the treetops behind them. There was a hidden ANBU agent present, though the young girl displayed no signs of recognition. Probably, she had no idea she was being followed.

"Just what exactly is the definition of confidentiality?" The blonde grumbled, drawing his attention back to her.

He met the question with a small chuckle; she would be surprised how much the people in the village liked to gossip. However, certain secrets remained protected. Among them were the very child herself and the current jinchuuriki for the Kyuubi. Sooner or later, though, those secrets would become common knowledge as well.

"Relax. It's not like it's a hot topic. No one but the big wigs and a select few high-ranking individuals knows a thing about it."

"That's comforting." This time, her words were honest. Her tense shoulders relaxed and she returned her hands to the fence, fingers tapping against the thin metal as she watched Minato. "I'm not trying to be rude, but can you get to the point, Jiraiya-san?"

The man sighed, shaking his head at her attitude. He hoped she would drop this behavior as she grew older because it would serve to make her pretty damn unapproachable. "How do I put it…Minato's been distracted lately. That is, there's something on his mind and I'm not sure if it's because of you or something else altogether."

"Like Uzumaki Kushina?" Namie suggested. "I can't imagine why it would be me."

"Because you tend to get yourself into troublesome situations, maybe?" The Sannin replied with a grin. "But it could be as you said, too. If that happens to be the case, do me a favor and help move things along for them, would ya?"

Namie's cool expression dropped into surprise as she turned her full attention to the man. "_Huh?_ Why can't you do it yourself, Mister Matchmaker?"

"I have an important mission starting tomorrow." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a busy guy! Plus, you know them both so you'll be able to do a lot more than I could. Consider it an unofficial mission from yours truly."

"That's so _weird._" She scoffed meanly, squinting at the man. '_Trust this guy to get involved in his student's _love life._ Should I really be surprised?' _

Jiraiya shrugged. "You should be jumping at the opportunity to play ninja…"

"I didn't say I _wouldn't_. I just said it was really weird." She sighed. "I'll do what I can."

A grin spread across his face. "Great! Y'know, you're pretty agreeable when it counts, kid."

"I'm—" She started to speak, but her reply trailed off as the Sannin waved flippantly at her and hurried back towards his student. '_At least our interests are aligned.'_

After that strange conversation, the training sessions stretched on for about an hour, well into the late afternoon. Jiraiya said his farewells to the siblings and drifted away from them when they reached the main street of the village, mumbling something about the hot springs.

Once the sage was out of sight, Minato turned a concerned glance to his sister. "Should you be walking so much, Namie? I can carry you."

Said girl shook her head. "I'm fine, Brother. It's mostly healed up by now, Taji said this is just for precautions. Besides, I'm way too old for that."

"Right, right," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. Seven wasn't exactly _way too old_ to be carried, but she was adamant in her refusal. "How did it happen, anyways?"

She noted the prying tone in his question and aimed to deflect it. "Oh, I fell at school. Nothing serious. Anyways, I can't believe you can summon toads, Brother! You're so cool, I'm jealous!" A bright grin stretched across her face as she walked ahead of him and spun around as if to show that her knee was perfectly fine.

"You think so?" His lips rose into a small grin. He kept his eyes trained on his sibling as she turned back around and continued on, commenting about his new skill.

The fact that she was forcing a subject change meant she was hiding something. He'd noticed it for the past few weeks. Her behavior was a bit shiftier than usual and anytime he asked about it she did her best to throw him off track with excessive, charming smiles and praise. Such a tactic may have worked for her in the past, but it wasn't something that could slip past a trained chuunin unnoticed.

This shift could be sourced to when her periodic visits to the hospital began, but neither Taji nor Namie spoke much about these appointments. The most he'd been given was that it had to do with her digestive system and overall health. Medicine was far from his area of expertise or interest, so there wasn't much he could discern from that alone. He could only hope that the cause of her check-ups and the knee injury she received at the Academy were unrelated.

It hadn't been an issue when she concealed her friendship with Kushina. But when her health was involved, it became a different matter.

He took a breath, composed himself, and prepared to share his feelings on the matter. "You know, Namie—"

"Kushina-nee-chan?" His sister's curious voice eclipsed his own.

Minato's gaze snapped up to see a familiar red-haired girl standing in their pathway. Just as Namie said, it was none other than Uzumaki Kushina.

The redhead let her stare wander between the two blond siblings, brow creased uncertainly as a shaky grin spread across her face. "H-hey! Long time no see! Namie-chan, Minato."

"Kushina," The elder blond acknowledged quietly. "It's been a while."

Namie glanced between the two attentively, noting the absence of honorifics and wondering how long it had been that way between them. She'd never personally witnessed them interacting before.

The two shinobi held each other's gazes, with Minato smiling slightly and Kushina maintaining that strangely troubled expression until she looked away with pink cheeks and a frown.

"Y-yeah, it has, 'ttebane! Uh, what brings you here?" She stumbled over her words uncharacteristically.

A smug smirk rose to the younger girl's face as Jiraiya's words rang in her mind. Between the two at that moment, she may as well have been invisible. '_Ah, it's young love.'_ She could practically feel the floaty, sparkly atmosphere around them.

"I just finished training with Jiraiya-sensei. What about you?"

"Just—just taking a break from training to pick up some dinner, you know?" The redhead replied shakily, twisting her fingers together.

Namie raised an eyebrow, wondering if she'd always been so jittery. As far as she'd known, the redhead had nerves of steel. '_It's unexpectedly cute, though. She's nervous around him!'_ Minato, on the other hand, upheld a calm façade. The girl's smirk persisted as she fished around in her pocket for a crumpled piece of paper Taji had given her earlier that day. Once it was in her grip, she held it up and waved it before her sibling. "Hey, hey, Brother, why don't we invite Kushina-nee-chan over for dinner tonight? You two can go grocery shopping and I'll go tell Taji we're having a guest!"

"Ah, no, wait, that's—" Kushina made to protest, but her voice was intersected by Minato's.

"But Namie—"

Said blonde pressed the shopping list into her sibling's hand and smiled broadly. "There's no problem with it, right?" When her brother muttered something along the lines of agreement, her gaze drifted towards a startled Kushina. "Right?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then, I'll see you two later!" She waved at them mischievously as she hurried away before they could flounder out an excuse of refusal.

Her cheerful expression dissolved once she rounded a corner and she slowed her steps to a slow plod with a slight limp. _'Even without my intervention, they'd become closer.'_ She mused, recalling the way they'd looked at each other. It didn't take a genius to recognize the tender feelings of young love.

She heaved out a sigh as she stretched her arms up behind her head and leisurely traced a path home.

'_Love, huh…?'_

It wasn't a foreign concept to her, no. Though the memories were blurred and faces were hazy, the feeling remained. Probably, her first love had been around the same age she was in the present, no matter how idealistic and childish it had been. Simply kindergarten curiosity that involved exchanges of flowers picked from grandmothers' gardens and badly written love letters in blocky, childish scrawl. Her last love had been unrequited and would forever remain so. Funny, she couldn't even recall his name anymore, though he'd been beautiful and intelligent, extremely polite and funny, interested in quite a few of her own hobbies and always helpful… But there was no use dwelling on what she could never again encounter.

She considered her failing memory a gift rather than a curse. She didn't need anything-not a single _thing_-from her past life save for the knowledge of the current world she was in. If there had been a convenient button to drain all of those unnecessary moments and all the feelings involved, she wouldn't hesitate to press it.

There was no looking back, not anymore. Only moving forward.

Carving her own way into this world and supporting, protecting the ones that gained a place in her heart took priority.

There came a sudden commotion behind the girl, jarring her from her thoughts. A raucous group of civilian children rushed past, brandishing toy weapons and shouting about becoming famous ninja warriors. She didn't mind the noisy display, and might have smiled if not for the fact that they'd rudely knocked into her on their way by without apology.

Her recovering knee gave out on her as she stumbled to uphold her balance. She threw a half-strangled yell of an insult towards the kids as she prepared to meet the ground, though her fall was halted by a large, warm hand on her arm. Effortlessly, she was pulled up and set back on her feet.

"Alright, there?"

Namie's head snapped around as she prepared to chew out whoever helped her (she could have handled it herself just fine) and scrunched her eyebrows together when her eyes met with the cool grey flak-jacket of an obvious ANBU shinobi. She glanced up with a sharp glare, meeting the long-lashed, murky brown eyes of an unfamiliar man who was no older than her guardian.

There was a brief pause in which her eyes scanned the length of his face; slightly sunburnt skin, a long, semi-straight nose that had seen its share of fights, a ruggedly square jawline, a defined brow, and above all that, dark, short windswept hair that was constantly combed back by fingers and not quite successfully obeying. Her eyes snapped back towards his after the cursory glance, though this contact didn't last any longer.

"I—I'm fine!" Namie ground out, frowning, finding it odd that she was unable to hold the concerned stare. A strange warmth flooded her cheeks. It burned up to the edges of her ears and she dearly hoped her complexion wasn't the type to color, as pale as it was. "No one _asked _you to do that." Her attention drifted to the tanned hand that was still set upon her arm, and she quickly shook it off. Her heartbeat increased.

"I could have just watched you drop to the dirt." The ANBU spoke in a flat, deadpan tone, glancing almost morosely at the hand that was tossed away before crossing his arms and observing the flustered child. She'd turned an angry red, as bright as a tomato, though he wasn't certain if it was from embarrassment or irritation or perhaps both. "Would you have preferred that?"

"I'm not going to thank you." The blonde rubbed at one of her ears idly, with stiff, clumsy fingers, still avoiding his scrutinizing stare. "And, uh, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." She claimed petulantly. It was more of an excuse than anything. She became incredibly self-conscious of her outward age and something strange stirred in her chest. She wanted to run away.

A wry smile twisted the man's face as he shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough. And thanks are unnecessary. I only helped because you're injured."

Namie glanced down to her wrapped knee. "I'm fine. I—I have to get home now." She turned and ambled a few steps forwards before muttering a quick "thank you" under her breath, just barely loud enough for even her ears to catch.

Her words were met with a quiet laugh and a smooth follow-up. "Be careful."

Damaged knee be damned, she aimed to put as much distance between them as humanly possible and hurried home at a near all-out sprint, only stopping when she reached the apartment complex.

She pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart as she braced herself against the stairway and struggled to catch her breath, wide-eyed and horrified.

'_What the hell was that? …I hope I _never_ run into him again.'_

It didn't take a genius to recognize puppy love—and love at first sight, after all.

'_Wait, _love?' She stopped short, staring out across the street with a strange, strangled expression.

'_No way. That ANBU guy was cute, sure, but…'_ Her breath hitched as a sudden realization struck her. He was _ANBU._ What were the chances of running into some random ANBU on her way through the village? Not only that, but he'd been the one to make himself known.

That was what unsettled her. _That_ was what had her out of sorts. Her heart wasn't aflutter from attraction—her mind may have been susceptible, but her young body was not yet capable of hormonal feats like that. It was a misplaced feeling of uneasiness and dread (_not_ stomach butterflies); that fight-or-flight instinct that raised her hackles and made her hyperaware of what she deemed a threat.

'_Does this mean they're monitoring me?'_ A cold sweat enveloped her as paranoia set in. She'd grown accustomed to having one of those shinobi around when she had appointments with Inori, but she'd only ever encountered one once outside of those meetings, and that time had been less than comforting, since she'd been knocked out.

But, why now? It didn't make sense—it could have been a coincidence.

"Namie?"

The blonde whipped her head around to see Taji standing at the top of the stairway, glancing down at her curiously with a tilted head and concerned expression. The woman took a tentative step forward, but paused when the child began to speak.

"Taji!" Namie forced a grin—one so wide that it turned her eyes into crescents—and bounded up the stairs to meet her guardian. "Hey, Kushina-nee-chan is coming for dinner tonight! She and Minato are shopping for ingredients. They should be here soon!" Her voice held a slight, tremulous edge despite her best efforts to hide it.

Taji noticed. However, she didn't acknowledge it. She swept her gaze briefly along their surroundings, noting the absence of the ANBU presence that had become something of a staple in their daily life, then smiled and leaned down to ruffle the girl's hair fondly. "Is that so? We'd better go and get everything else ready, then."

The woman's presence alone served to calm her nerves, if only slightly. She was a welcomed distraction.

Namie nodded. Then, a mischievous smirk crossed her face. "So, are we going to make this a super embarrassing dinner for them or what?"

Taji's expression was much the same, though her cover was deceptively innocent. "I'll get the baby photos."

The two shared a conspiratory glance before hurrying towards the door.

ANBU could wait.

* * *

**A/N:** I really do enjoy writing interactions between Namie and Jiraiya—actually, just writing Jiraiya, period. This chapter was pretty fun for me, and a little silly to break away from the somber tone that's been around lately—and a couple more OCs were introduced (ANBU guy and Koemi). Does anyone even know what happened to the rest of the Senju clan? Like, why is Tsunade the only extant one ever really mentioned in the series (aside from her bro Nawaki who we_ know_ died, and how)? I mean it's not really relevant to this story but it does make me curious. Hearing about theories is interesting.

Another quick update because I have two more after this pre-written and I get a little anxious and tired of sitting on these chapters. I'll try to have those two up this week, too.

Many many thanks for the faves/follows/reads! And also to you amazing reviewers: **thelonelylovechild, Ox King,** **coronadomontes, MythologyGirl, Vaughn Tyler, Sin of the Fallen, Uncertain Shifter, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Kasuke. Hagase, KisaragiMarru,** **Flor, Anber, Ash123, **and** Sethera.**

Review replies are in the usual place on my dreamwidth journal (kettobase).

The topic of whether or not Namie will tell Minato about her situation has come up a lot before as a curious question so I figured I'd finally reply to it without being all shifty:

**Ox King:** Well, Minato doesn't have much standing at the moment since he's just a chuunin and a young teenager, so there's likely not much he could do anyways. Along with that, Namie doesn't want to worry him excessively. She's independent and wants to think she can handle this all on her own. She assumes it'll all just blow over after a while if she plays her cards right. At least, until the last moment when/if she panics, like she did during Kushina's kidnapping when she messed up and told Jiraiya and got herself into this mess.

I have a section covering this a little more in-depth in an upcoming chapter, too.


	14. Twelve: Halcyon Days, Friends

_Nonstop gnawing riotous pain._

At first it had been a faint niggling in the back of her mind, but the longer she slept, the more demanding it grew, slithering within her brain, squeezing, squeezing, squirming and clawing against her skull.

An inky black abyss of darkness accompanied this feeling. Within that void, voices whispered, brushing her senses, sometimes familiar like memories but otherwise unsettling threats, promises of future death.

False comfort. Pain and suffering.

This was the third time it had happened in the past month.

Though, unlike the preceding occurrences, this time she was presented with swirling colors and vague outlines of faces from past, present and future.

_It's your fault._ A memory.

_It's your fault._ Accusations of a boy yet to be born.

_It's your fault._ A familiar face—two familiar faces, merging together, blurring space and time, pushing through, jerking against her mind.

Then, blood. A sea of crimson, stretching to the horizon, surface as fine and still as glass.

It rippled.

Bubbles broke through the stillness, churning, boiling, frothing, as bleached, emaciated tendrils slid through the liquid and grasped the surface as if it were solid, pulling, pulling, and soon the tendrils became brittle limbs attached to grotesque bodies bearing the faces of people she once knew and once loved; people she _knew _and loved.

_Taji._

_Kushina._

_Minato._

Reaching, reaching, grabbing—clinging with hungry grips, sharpened bones gouging deep into her skin and _dragging_, pulling her under, screaming silent, sinking, sinking—

Dragged under, lungs filling with red, red, so much red—

She couldn't breathe.

_She couldn't breathe._

Namie wrenched herself violently away from the dragging pressure and was awoken by the rough impact of her back smacking into the hard ground beneath her bed.

"Namie?" An urgent call and a quiet knock. "Namie, what was that? Are you alright?"

The girl kicked away her tangled bedsheets and blankets with shaking legs, drawing them to her chest once they were free and pinning them tightly with arms as her entire being trembled. A raspy breath left her dry lips as she attempted to speak, tongue stiff and heavy, and she floundered for a worrying second before forcing her voice to break through.

"I—I'm _fine_! Just—I just fell off the bed! Don't worry, Brother." As soon as the croaking words were spoken, she pressed her forehead into her kneecaps, clammy skin sticking.

"Ouch." Then, worriedly. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Just a little winded is all." She breathed.

There was a beat of silence, stillness, and Namie squeezed her eyes shut, then immediately sought for the brightness of the morning sun seeping in through her window.

Not darkness. Never darkness.

"Try to be more careful from now on, Namie? Breakfast is ready, by the way." Uncertainty. A sigh.

Footsteps trailed away.

Namie's ears slowly adjusted to the sounds of morning pedestrian greetings in the street below, rickety shop carts wheeling along, and birds chirping.

She slowly unwound her small body until it was sprawled flat across the wooden floor, skin finally soaking in the stale heat of the muggy mid-summer weather. She draped an arm across her sweaty forehead and took in a few deep, measured breaths before lifting her torso and peering around the small, scarcely-furnished room.

Her bed looked strangely bare without its colorful coverlets. The small, single bookshelf in the bedroom was only half-filled and neglected, covered in dust that floated through the morning air. Her gaze roved slowly along with the tiny, lazily dancing specks, illuminated by the sunlight that filtered in, and she examined every corner of the small enclosure until her breathing evened out. Her eyes lingered briefly on the small trunk that contained her childhood toys and memories. It was firmly shut; abandoned, a closed chapter of her life.

It was only a nightmare.

Terrifying, disturbing, but imaginary and harmless.

"It was a nightmare…Only a nightmare." She spoke the words aloud to confirm it.

With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and piled her fallen blankets back onto the low bed before gazing out the window towards what little of Konoha she could see beyond the neighboring buildings that blocked the view.

Today, she finally returned to the Academy.

* * *

Inuzuka Toboe was not skilled in the finer points of human interaction. As a matter of fact, he wasn't skilled in expressing himself at all.

It had something to do with his unorthodox upbringing, he figured—or at least, that's what his aunt and cousins claimed. Tsume, in particular.

When he claimed that he'd been raised by dogs, it hadn't been a complete lie; his parents, when they were still alive, had been ninken breeders for the entirety of the Inuzuka clan. Large, wolfish classes for the most part—the kinds of dogs that could grow to be the size of small horses. There were smaller types, too, though those were typically messenger and scouting breeds, like Kurocha. The larger ones were specified for combat and tracking within the clan.

Or, at times, for babysitting and carting around a young child. It wasn't an uncommon sight in the Inuzuka compound, for a ninken to be keeping its master's infants company, but they were most definitely not usually the primary caretakers.

Toboe couldn't recall much of his parent's faces, much less their personalities, but he most certainly remembered the furry mugs of his surrogate canine family. His "mother" had been a strict, stalwart snow-white dame with crushing, alligator jaws and paws larger than his own skull—which he'd seen speckled with blood more often than dirt. She had a nick in her left ear, barely a stump left of the right, and her spirit was mean as spit. Her name had been Takara and she was the progenitor to several successful lines of Inuzuka ninken before her death on the battlefield during the second war.

However, when she was tasked with childcare, she was one of the tamest, gentlest creatures to walk the planet.

The russet-haired boy's birth coincided with that of Takara's final litter, and she treated him as one of her own pups when his parents entrusted him to her. So much so that he'd been thoroughly convinced his littermates had been his own siblings until he turned four.

Some ninken were gifted with the ability to develop human speech, but Takara was not one of those. Regardless, she'd taught him nearly everything he knew in the vein of standing up for himself and defending himself, tracking, and hunting.

He'd been so partial to the company of dogs that lessons given by human instructors largely flew right over his head.

Among those that he missed was most definitely how to socially interact with others. Certainly, he was part of a group at the Academy, but he wasn't technically friends with the boys. It was more of an inherent pack-mentality that drew him towards the others. The fact that they tolerated his rowdy ways and appreciated his tracking skills was completely coincidental.

However, despite his lack of connection with the boys, he needed their company. When it was discovered that Namie had been suspended for a week because she'd been left behind, caught red-handed with the kunai_ he'd_ been in charge of, and not to mention injured, the response wasn't kind.

Namie was their only link to "Habanero-sama"—whoever _that_ was—and they blamed _him_ for hurrying ahead that day without helping the girl. They'd shunned him, refused to let him take part in their usual recess activities, and he was tasked with apologizing to her and fixing the situation.

And so here he was, standing idly by the Academy as he waited for said girl while Genma and the others watched covertly from a nearby window to make sure he followed through.

It sounded simple, but the others had no idea how difficult it was for Toboe to get along with the blonde. As far as he was concerned, they should just leave her alone.

Her entire personality—it just rubbed him the wrong way. Her arrogant behavior, her cool, superior gaze, her stupid hairstyle…but most of all, the way she looked down on him more than any of the others.

He'd spent a great deal of time training since the time she slandered his taijutsu skills and mentioned how he had no idea how to improve. His skill level had definitely increased, and he'd come close to gaining another victory from her, yet she still wouldn't acknowledge it. It was a huge pain.

_She_ was a huge pain.

Why couldn't she just notice his hard work?

* * *

The first thing that greeted Namie when she entered the school grounds was the sight of a fidgety, disgruntled Inuzuka Toboe.

His hands were buried deep in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched forwards stiffly. Kurocha was nowhere in sight so Namie decided to walk around the boy and ignore him altogether because his mood appeared so sour. However, the minute she attempted to step around him, he blocked her way.

"'M supposed to apologize," the brunet grumbled, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. His eyes pointedly ignored the blonde's suspicious stare and he instead briefly glanced to her wrapped knee.

Everything about the way that sentence was muttered sounded insincere and it did nothing to impress the girl. She crossed her arms and huffed impatiently at whatever guilt trip the boy had been forced into.

He became visibly irked at the sound, though he put aside his reluctance—or just general disinterest in the situation—to glare down at the blonde, meeting her challenging gaze with his own. "I was supposed to help you bring back the kunai, so it was kind of my fault, I guess."

Namie merely blinked, unmoved.

The boy's right eye twitched. "The guys are mad at me 'cause of you, you know! They haven't let me play any games with 'em since you got suspended!" He spoke quickly, hands clenched into fists, and even leaned forwards slightly in a way that came off as vaguely threatening. Namie held her ground and awaited his words of apology. "Stupid Strawhead—what is this, the silent treatment? I'm trying to say I'm sorry here."

A sneer pulled at her lips and she finally spoke, coolly, "I don't think you call someone 'stupid' and blame them for things when you're trying to apologize, dog breath." Well, that was probably the most he was capable of. Even when they'd first met, his apology had been severely lacking.

The Inuzuka finally seemed to snap, and he threw his hands up in annoyance. "_Jeez_, Strawhead, you have a real problem! You're such a bit—"

"Mooorning," a lethargic voice called mid-yawn and soon Shiranui Genma stood at their side. "You two sure look like you're getting along well. I mean, it's dumb to fight so early in the day, right?" One of his arms went to lean heavily on the other boy's shoulder.

Toboe held his tongue on his previous comment and stuffed his hands back into his pockets angrily.

"Good to see you back." Genma commented, smiling languidly around the ever-present dango skewer, as his gaze wandered towards the blonde. "Y'know, Toboe here's real sorry about what happened, but his vocabulary's a bit too limited to express it properly. In fact, we're all sorry."

Namie stared. '_What's with these kids?'_

Genma was unaffected by her silence. "So, what do you say? Friends?" He stretched out a hand in truce. Toboe uttered a discontent grunt at the gesture but remained silent.

"Friends?" She repeated, making no move to accept. "I don't know. Maybe if you stop making stupid bets at my expense?"

The boy shrugged. "Done."

Namie surveyed the two brunets critically, searching for an ulterior motive. It only took her a moment to remember she was only dealing with children and sandbox disagreements—not a political agenda. With a sigh, she slowly extended her hand and grasped the one held towards her. "Fine. Friends."

The girl's week-long absence had caused quite a stir in the usual classroom rumors. Her return and seemingly injured state only served to fuel them. Apparently, one of the more popular stories was that she received the injury while fighting with Yuuichi-sensei and her actions resulted in indefinite suspension. Some versions claimed that it was because _she'd_ won and injured the older man's pride, and some claimed it was because she suffered defeat and it was her punishment.

Another rumor was that she'd been expelled for the thuggish behavior—some of her classmates did look rather surprised to see her at all.

Whatever they believed, there was a definite shift in how her peers now perceived her. It did no help that she was already considered a rough-and-tumble type with her taijutsu reputation.

Most of her unacquainted peers did their best to avoid her.

"What's the story, Strawhead?"

Namie looked up from the manual she was studying when Suzume settled down on the grass beside her, expression skeptical. The blonde only raised a brow and shrugged, not quite understanding the question.

"The story behind your sudden spike in popularity. Have you _heard_ what everyone is saying? They're terrified of you. And—I'm being blunt, here—there's not much to be afraid of."

Today, the dark-haired girl's frizzy mane was tamed and pulled into a tight, elegant bun reminiscent of her mother's—this week's special kunoichi lesson was in learning how to tastefully groom their outer appearance. Namie wondered if her good hair day had a direct relationship with her confidence and ability to approach her without becoming irritated. Not only that, but she noticed earlier that day that Suzume had grown a few centimeters and now held a good bit of height over the blonde, officially making her the shortest in her year. That leverage may have had something to do with it, too.

Ever since the other girl had been helping out with her remedial kunoichi lessons, their relationship became even more hot and cold. Not quite friends, not quite enemies, but somewhere in between. However, the blonde had no trouble acknowledging the girl as more of a "friend" if only for the fact that she made a lousy rival.

Namie idly pulled at her bangs—having long since grown out from their butchered state and now hanging loosely at either side of her face—and then let her fingers drift to the thin pink ribbon at the end of one of her braids. Her hairstyle was plain and childish. The hair care manual for kunoichi provided several alternate, intricate styles that were more suited to the profession, such as Suzume's attractive updo. She briefly considered trying such a hairstyle before said girl's face interrupted her line of vision and demanded her attention.

"Well?"

The blonde scoffed as she untied the ribbons and began to unravel her plaited hair. "There's nothing to say. It's all rumor."

Suzume kept her silence and sat up just a bit straighter when her mother—Tsubame-sensei, Namie learned, as she'd had to give her apology letter directly to the woman earlier that day—passed by to give Namie a hair brush and mirror, as well as a small selection of elaborate hair pins (the twin of one already set snugly in Suzume's bun). "Remember, neat, orderly, and practical." She reminded the girl before returning to the bench she'd taken up residence on while grading their writing exercises.

"I wonder if I should just cut it," the girl murmured to herself as she combed her fingers through her wave-poofed hair, feeling knots and kinks forming already, and reached for the brush.

"Your face is too round for short hair." Suzume commented matter-of-factly, studying the strangely tangled mess that was _not_ unlike to her own in its usual state. She raised a curious brow. "And I'm no simpleton. I just want the truth from the source. Boys are stupid and over exaggerate things."

Namie wanted to point out that there was no way to "over" exaggerate, but thought against it and struggled with styling her hair into a chignon with braided segments on either side of her head instead. Hair care had never been her forte. Most of the times she'd attempted to use a curling iron in the past, her skin had ended up burnt more often than her hair curled. Braids, though; braids were easy. Braids and messy ponytails. "Ultra Perm, I'm hurt," she responded, tucking a bobby pin against a flyaway strand, a little dismayed that her attempt was not looking as perfect as the picture presented in the manual. "It wasn't anything to get excited about. I got in trouble for practicing when I wasn't supposed to and I tripped and hurt my knee. Yuuichi-sensei caught me."

"I _knew_ it wasn't anything crazy." Suzume snorted, turning up her nose and smirking in victory. "You follow the rules most of the time—when you're not being rebellious, that is." There was a pause in which the brunette leaned over to rescue Namie's butchered attempt at hair styling, smacking her fingers away from her poor hair and yanking the brush from her other hand. She jerked the comb through the strands with a rough, practiced precision that made the girl wince. "Don't think I'm stupid, Strawhead. I noticed you let your grades drop." The girl grumbled something about her hair being just as difficult as her personality—Namie couldn't catch every word, but the feelings behind the sentence were clear.

She quickly opened her mouth to retaliate. "Ultra Perm—" There came a sudden pain, and Namie barely concealed an anguished hiss as Suzume jerked at a segment of her hair, braiding it tightly. She disposed her verbal retaliation and instead returned to the subject at hand. "I never said you were stupid, but that's not your business."

The other girl kept silent for a moment, weaving the blonde into fine plaits before moving on to wind them into a ball at the back of her head. "And is it true you're a student of the Red-Hot Habanero?" Her tone was nonchalant, but the underlying curiosity was clear as day.

"Oh, no, don't tell me they blabbed about that too—_aaaagh, ow!_" This time, the pain was too strong to ignore. "Y-yeah! It's true! Jeez, you would do well in the Torture and Interrogation department, you know?!"

"Do you," Suzume paused, tucking in the end strands of the girl's hair before reaching for an intricate pin. "Do you want…Would you still be willing to help me with taijutsu, Namie-san?" The ornament slid effortlessly into place.

The blonde picked up the hand mirror and observed her new hairstyle appraisingly before smiling in approval. "Ah, not bad." Her eyes traveled to the brunette's, and she considered her request a moment before grinning. "Sure, sure. You've helped me out a lot so I'll return the favor."

The two girls met up just outside the school building once classes were let out for the day. As usual, Suzume was uptight for some reason or the other, standing tall in her casual kimono and acting like she'd rather be anywhere else than with a certain blonde.

Namie snorted to herself as she observed the scene. She didn't _hate_ the girl, but it seemed she had some sort of grudge against her for whatever reason. The fact that she'd had to make a second request for taijutsu class tutoring injured her pride somehow.

"Namie-san." The girl greeted, barely flicking her eyes in her direction as she nodded.

"Just 'Namie' is fine, you know. Don't need to be so formal, Ultra Perm." A vein ticked near the brunette's mouth. The blonde smirked.

"Na—_Namie_." Suzume repeated, stressing each syllable in a threatening tone.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it, _Suzume?_" Like the other girl, she stressed each character.

The reaction was unexpected. The other girl's eyes widened uncharacteristically and she quickly turned away, cleared her throat and quickly added, to cover for her behavior, "Please don't drop the honorifics!"

"Huh? Really?" Namie pursed her lips and hummed, eyeing the girl thoughtfully. How strange, for her to get so flustered over a name. She supposed it was due to her traditional upbringing. She even addressed her own _mother_ as 'sensei' while at school. As for her other classmates, Namie recalled that they were spoken to in a similar matter. Girl really needed to lighten up.

She briefly contemplated the words Inori once told her. Did cutesy names and honorifics really offset coarse personalities? Well, she would just have to see for herself. "Suzu-chan, then." She declared, nodding in approval.

"_Suzu?!_" Suzume squawked, fixing the blonde with a scowl.

"Suzu-_chan!_" Namie corrected, grinning smugly.

It was true. She was already starting to seem more like a prickly kitten instead of a sharp-beaked bird.

Namie looked over the other girl for a moment, ignoring her fuming, and let her grinning lips settle into an even line. "Before we start the basics, there's something you should know."

"Huh? Like what?"

"I'm surprised the teachers never mentioned it, but—your outfit's not really suited for taijutsu. You should wear a shorter kimono and shorts or something that won't hinder your movements so much." She explained, setting a hand on her hip and waving the other whimsically in the air. "But that's the least of your problems."

Suzume had gone quiet when the other girl jumped back on topic, and her brows furrowed when she processed the end statement.

Namie continued when the dark-haired girl provided her full attention. "From what I've seen, you're a little too timid when it comes to facing an opponent. Your moves get all unsure and halfhearted. That, and your stance…" She began to tick off problem areas on her fingers, and her classmate nodded as she took note of each point. Once she finished her overview, the blonde stretched her back and turned to walk away. "I'll show you. We can train for a little while at a nearby park. It's one where I used to meet up with," her lips trembled slightly with the effort it took to keep from laughing at the name, "_Habanero-sama._"

She wondered how Kushina would react if she called her that to her face.

Once the two girls left the school grounds, a group of classmates hailed them down.

Namie blinked suspiciously down at the single coupon being shaken at her nose before eyeing the group of boys. All six were present, though the one holding said voucher was Genma. "What's this?"

The brunet scratched at his bandana-covered head as he spoke around the ever-present dango stick. "We decided to split the betting pool since the game got messed up anyways." He glanced at the coupon in his hand. "This one's yours. For all the trouble."

"Ah. Thanks," she responded in monotone, taking the small ticket and pursing her lips. It was a small apology for a suspension sentence, a knee wound and an unwanted reputation.

"We're all gonna go get dango now. You should come with us and tell—" they gray-haired boy (she'd forgotten his name) began to say, but was cut off when Ebisu shoved past him.

"—You should come with us!" The bespectacled boy exclaimed, soon gaining agreement from the majority of the group. Save for Toboe, who looked as disgruntled as ever by her mere presence.

Namie glanced between them all, no trace of amusement in sight. _'This is definitely about Kushina. What, are these kids all the Habanero fanclub?'_ She observed their bright, eager expressions and sighed. '_Actually, that may not be far off the mark.'_ She turned her gaze to Suzume, who looked completely unperturbed by the entire ordeal. "I'm a little busy. I'm hanging out with Suzu-chan here." As expected, the brunette's eyes nearly bugged out when her newly christened nickname was spoken so casually.

"Both you and Suzume-chan are welcome to come, Namie-chan." Genma offered.

"Just Namie," the blonde spoke automatically, too conditioned from correcting the Yamanaka doctor's usage of _that_ honorific to really notice. The only one who could ever get away with it was Kushina. "Well, Suzu-chan, what do you say?"

Said girl fidgeted slightly, toying with the edges of her sleeves. "I'm a little hungry, to be perfectly honest."

Namie nodded. "Alright. We'll go."

The dango shop wasn't far away, but during the walk there, Namie discovered a number of interesting facts about her classmates.

Overall, their interest in her was based in her acquaintanceship with Kushina. The only ones who didn't seem to mind her presence as an independent existence were her deskmate and the boy with the red band across his face. She still wasn't quite sure where she stood with Suzume and Toboe, though they both seemed to know each other since they were walking together, only occasionally conversing.

She observed the minute change in the girl's body language, noting the way she seemed to become a bit more girly. Her expression wasn't so displeased or pinched, she _actually_ smiled, and—_was she twirling her hair? _Well, maybe it was more subtle than that, given that it was _Suzume_, but the action was obvious.

It was clear as day what was going on there—though, maybe she was just extra-perceptive towards the topic because of recent developments including that weird run-in with the ANBU shinobi and Minato and Kushina's developing relationship.

Toboe, on the other hand, was largely oblivious. He simply slumped along with his hands in his pockets, perpetually scowling, and replying to the girl's questions with terse comments of his own.

'_What an idiot.'_

"They're pretty close. It's been that way for a while." Genma commented as his eyes followed Namie's line of sight.

"Yeah…looks _close._" She shrugged.

"It's been that way since preschool." Raidou added from Namie's other side.

"Preschool? How long have you all known each other?"

Raidou shrugged. "Since daycare days. Most of our parents worked together. Except for Ebisu. He's an orphan. And Aoba's parents are civilians."

"You all go way back, then," Namie mumbled as a slight twinge, a yearning for times of the past, pulled at her heart.

She hadn't thought about her old friends in quite a while. Thinking on it was moot, but she couldn't exactly stop the stray thoughts that cropped up.

Here, it was different. Friends were unnecessary. The interactions were amusing, certainly, though only a means of staving off boredom and blending into Konoha's population.

It was true, after all, that two of these classmates would indubitably become her genin teammates. They were only stepping stones; a means to an end; tools to help her grow stronger as a shinobi. Ultimately, it didn't matter who the two were.

The only ones who mattered were Minato and Kushina. Her small world revolved around them and their well-being—protecting them from their predetermined fates.

That was the purpose she'd given herself in this world. There was no room for anyone else.

A hand patting her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts.

"You're our friend now, too, Namie. No need to look so down." Genma spoke calmly.

Namie's eyes widened slightly. He'd misinterpreted the sudden silence as her feeling left out of the loop when in all actuality it was the exact opposite. How naïve.

"Right. We're friends." She agreed, pulling up a bright smile.

The visit to the dango shop was rambunctious and crowded, since there were several of them and only few serving tables. Namie ended up sitting squished between Suzume and Aoba, Toboe had spilled his green tea across their tabletop and consequently soaked all of their clothes, and there had been too much dango going around. The boys decided to participate in an eating contest with the remaining snacks, which resulted in Toriichi throwing up most of what he consumed and getting them all kicked out of the shop for bothering the other customers.

Ebisu had pilfered the wooden skewers from the dango and he and Aoba engaged in a dango-stick-senbon battle while out on the streets, which attracted the attention of one of the Uchiha patrolmen (not Fugaku this time, Namie thanked her lucky stars). He'd sent them all running with threats of telling their parents, and by the time everyone calmed down it was well into the evening.

At the crossroads, before everyone parted ways, Namie had somehow been swindled into agreeing to let the group meet Kushina someday. She still wasn't sure how it had happened aside from being caught up in the rowdy childhood momentum, but there was no way they would let her forget it since they had her cooperation.

The entire event was exhausting and a little irritating, but it had also brightened her outlook, if only a little. Those children were all fiercely determined and living their young lives to the fullest.

She had a feeling that, if she remained in their presence long enough, that unyielding confidence might just spread to her.

Maybe she didn't have to feel so alone after all.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for all reads/faves/follows! I'm so grateful to you all. And thanks to you wonderful reviewers especially: **thelonelylovechild, Pulchra Stellam, Littlebirdd, Vaughn Tyler, Bananarock509, milpld, Fk306, Flor, 10th Squad 3rd Seat, Dyalos, Lady Syndra, coronadomontes, MythologyGirl, Sethera, EVA-Saiyajin, TheQueen'sknight, AoMythology **and **KisaragiMarru.**

Review replies are in the usual place at my dreamwidth journal (kettobase).

Next chapter should be up around the weekend.


	15. Thirteen: Side Effects, Habanero-sama

The next session with Inori followed the same routine as always: a few mundane standard practice questions concerning her state of health, whether or not she felt any drastic shifts in mood or behavior, et cetera… Tedious things.

Naturally, she kept her vivid nightmares to herself and simply, curtly, provided answers to the queries as she sat on a small stool within that cramped, sterile-scented room with only the company of the blond doctor and ANBU Monkey.

Then came the half-hour to hour-long process of the Yamanaka invoking his mind probing jutsu, attempting different manners of disengaging or circumventing whatever technique Namie set in place to divert his search.

He researched and theorized several possibilities, he'd commented vaguely a few times before. Though it was clear that none of those had proved fruitful.

Namie had a hunch that it had something to do with her reincarnation. Both her unnatural amount of spiritual energy and the unexplained phenomena that allowed her to bounce Inori's mind technique.

Probably, she mused, whatever the "blockage" was, it was designated to protect her memories from outside interference. Much of what she retained directly contradicted this world, so by some strategic interloping from the Powers That Be or whatever led to her rebirth, this information was made only accessible to herself. Like a password-protected file only the creator could view.

It almost made her laugh. That was all _hogwash_; useless speculation—idle thoughts she'd been working through since the observations began—as there was no way to confirm or deny the "ability." The human mind was tricky. For all she knew, it may very well have been caused by a jutsu.

As for her chakra storage, that alone could be explained by her retention of memories and experiences, she figured. She'd never acknowledged her own mind as particularly resilient in her previous life, but compared to her status as a child—compared to a _child's_ brain—it was definitely stronger. Years ahead in development. Her thought processes worked far differently than a child's and it was no wonder they'd caught on to it. It was one thing having once been a child, and entirely another masquerading as what she only had vague memories of.

Shinobi were trained to be perceptive.

"_Ugh_," Namie awoke from the imposed haze of unconsciousness to the sound of Inori's pained grunt. When she regained some sense of lucidity and her vision began to clear, her gaze zeroed in on the doctor sitting across from her.

His own seat had scraped backwards a few noticeable centimeters, and the man himself was doubled over, one hand gripping the armrest of his chair and the other grasping his head tightly. His shoulders were squared and, though his expression was hidden, it was clear he'd experienced some type of pain by his rough breathing. Namie cast a cursory glance towards Monkey, noting that, without moving a step, he'd begun to lean forwards slightly in anticipation. The mild atmosphere that was usually present had curdled into something tense and unpredictable.

"Inori-sensei—?" The girl began to question in a quiet, dazed voice, but was deterred from continuing when the man in question held up a shaking hand.

He remained in this position for an uncomfortable thirty seconds, before slowly raising his head and, still slumped, with his elbows resting on his thighs, fixed the girl with a hesitant stare. "Namie-chan, you didn't do that on purpose?" His intoned voice held no trace of uncertainty. It wasn't exactly an accusation, either. But the usual, facetious warmth was absent. "Right?" He prompted, when her silence lasted a beat too long.

Namie sluggishly shook her head, willing the remaining cling of fuzziness away from her thoughts. "I don't know what happened." She focused her attention on the blond man's face, attempting to convey her own obvious confusion, though a moment later wished she'd kept her gaze elsewhere. Once his eyes met hers, a thin stream of blood trickled from his nose. Her eyes widened.

Static filled her ears.

_Red. Red. So much red. _

The liquid went unnoticed by the man until a few tiny droplets leaked onto his white coat, and the sudden, stark contrast captured the attention of everyone within the small room.

"Ah. This is…" She saw his lips move, knew he spoke, but the words were obscured. They sounded thick, heavy. Foreign.

Inori quickly rose to his feet and reached for a bundle of gauze, and with one quick glance towards the small blonde, he offered her a handful of the material as well.

When she didn't move, he spoke again. "Saru, handle this. I need to prep the machines."

There was a bit of shuffling, and the next thing she knew, the girl had the gauze pressed against her nose, head coaxed downwards so that she was staring at the tiled—blood-specked—floor, and then was led towards one of the cots that was usually hidden behind a drawn curtain.

Once she was seated on the thin white mattress, the ANBU addressed her in a heavy, muffled voice. "Pinch your nose."

When she made no move to obey, nor any sign of acknowledgement whatsoever, the man grabbed her fingers and forced her to follow the instructions, holding his hand over her own until her senses resettled and she clinched her fingertips on the soft cartilage of her nose. There was something familiar about the ginger touch—warm, concerned… it reminded her of Taji. No. It was definitely parental, in a manner, but it wasn't like Taji. It was too practiced, too mechanical. Taji was always too careful, and a little too hesitant, when it involved her.

Briefly, she placed the feeling to a memory, but it eluded her when she tried to grasp it and her fuzzy, swimming thoughts persisted.

After a moment, the shinobi removed the stained cloth from the girl's face and stepped away.

In the next instant—or what could have been later, since her sense of time was skewed— a nurse appeared at the girl's side and firmly yet gently directed her to lie down on the bed and rest. A damp sponge was swiped across the lower half of her face, an IV drip was inserted into her arm with swift precision, and a number of other wirings were hooked up to her head, and various other locations. Almost as soon as the nurse had materialized, she was once again out of sight, replaced by Inori. He began to speak, but his words were yet again obscured. His outline was grainy; grew hazy.

Darkness swallowed the room.

* * *

Namie woke with a start to an empty room. She glanced around wildly, made to sit up, and felt a sudden sting in her left arm. An IV needle was taped there, steadily delivering unknown fluids from a nearby packet.

The steady, maddening sounds of beeping machines met her ears, and she glanced sideways to see a health monitor of some sort, containing at least half a dozen wires that were once connected to her, now hanging limply.

There was a stiff soreness in her nose, along with the tanged scent of blood. She briefly recalled Inori's nosebleed, and then subsequently her own.

Something strange happened during his observation, though she could barely recall what. When she tried to think, it brought muffled pangs of pain. She let her head fall back onto the stiff, scratchy pillows.

This room was different than the one she usually met Inori in. The other had been small; personal, whereas this one was impersonal, with four beds—three of which were empty, she was certain, as there were no sounds aside from her own breathing in the area. The sterile, medical scent was still present and most of her surroundings were a stark white, save for the aqua-tinted curtains that separated each bedding unit. The curtain to her left had been drawn halfway to shield her from the doorway, as her cot was closest to the exit.

Her eyes wandered to the half-opened blinds along the far wall that admitted patchy streams of sunlight into the room. She could only see strips of blue sky and rooftops of buildings, whereas in the other room the windows only revealed trees.

It was still daytime; had been before she'd fallen asleep. There was no telling how long she'd been out. As she pondered this, the door to the room slid open with a muted shuffle and a familiar set of steps entered.

The curtain drew back to reveal the haggard—but smiling—face of Yamanaka Inori.

The blond shinobi regarded Namie with a flicker of surprise when their eyes connected before it vanished, replaced by polite relief. "Good to see you're awake." He moved forwards to assess the IV drip before pulling a chair to her bedside and collapsing into it with a sigh. "Had me worried there, you know, Namie-chan."

She ignored his irritating manner of addressing her in favor of finding answers. "What happened? What time is it?"

"It's only been an hour." Inori waved his hand, then leaned towards the girl to rest his elbows on his knees, setting them at eye-level. "You don't remember what happened?"

Namie shrugged. "A little. Something happened, you got a nosebleed, I got one, and then I passed out. Where's the monkey? Off on a banana break?" She questioned dryly, noting the other man's absence.

"Ah, he's, well," Inori scratched his head, looking just as perplexed as Namie felt. "He probably got called away. It's only necessary for him to stay here during the sessions, after all, and his job is pretty demanding." He observed the girl for a second longer. It was a good sign that her behavior was normal—lack of cuteness and all. He made a mental note to record that later when he had his clipboard.

"Why am I here?" The blonde girl cut in just as he prepared to speak.

The doctor's navy eyes studied the young girl carefully, gauging her nonverbal cues—the way her jaw set challengingly, the way her eyes only briefly met his own and largely remained hovering in the space just above her hands, the tiny, near-imperceptible tic below her right eyelid. Her flat, steady tone contradicted the obvious anxiety. He didn't blame her. The only other time she'd ever been admitted to the hospital had led to this situation. It was reasonable to fear something similar would occur.

Inori folded his fingers together, tapped them on the edge of the bedframe and slowly spoke. "I already asked, but I'll say it again. You didn't consciously push me out of your mind, right?"

Namie truthfully shook her head, then eyed him carefully. "No. I don't know how to do that."

"Naturally. But that's what happened." He shrugged, leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling thoughtfully. "It felt like I touched something I shouldn't have—the backlash was surprisingly strong. The fact that we both suffered attests to that." There was a brief pause. "Usually, your mind wouldn't do something that would hurt your own body." He indicated the nearby machine dismissively. "I ran a few diagnostic tests and you're perfectly fine, though."

"And you?" She asked, somewhat haltingly, expression deceivingly uninterested.

"Namie-chan, Is that concern I sense there?" The blond grinned widely, revealing his artificially white teeth. When the girl looked like she regretted her words, he continued. "I'm fine. I've had worse hangovers."

Her expression continued to darken as they lapsed into a mutual silence.

Namie broke it a few moments later. "What—what did you see?" Her seafoam-blue irises locked with his, searching.

"Nothing. Your mind is pretty much a barricade." He held the gaze, testing her resolve. "All I'm ever able to see clearly are your recent memories. For instance, last year's memories? Gone. Locked up tight." A hum. "It's not uncommon for that to be the case, but there's almost always a way to _un_lock and check through them."

"I'm guessing I'm the combo-breaker to 'always?'" She tried.

The blond nodded, folding one leg across his knee and leaning forward again. "Right on the money, Namie-chan. For now, you're a special case."

She very obviously flinched at that terminology. He noticed the movement, caught on to the fact that she saw him register it, but made no move to address the cause. "There's still a few things I have to look into. But with what happened earlier, I think you need a few months of recuperation. The mind heals much slower than the body after trauma, after all." He nodded to himself sagely. "Probably, two months rest will do you well. In the meantime, I'm having you kept here overnight—maybe two nights—as a precaution."

The notion to ask about Taji struck the girl, but then she remembered that the woman was out on a scouting mission.

"Your brother's being informed as we speak." Inori offered, picking up on the lonely expression. It quickly morphed into such a sharp glare that he could practically feel the needles. "It's all still confidential, don't worry about _that_. You're listed here under fatigue." He assured her. The girl nodded idly and fidgeted with the edges of the colorless blanket, much in a similar way to how she toyed with the hem of her shirt when she was agitated. It was a habit of hers he'd picked up on during their first few sessions together.

Inori regarded the eight-year-old quietly, expression largely unreadable, save for the small tilt to one of his eyebrows.

_He'd been so close._

For the first time in a year, he'd finally progressed in the study—only to be knocked down from his pedestal of accomplishment by the girl's inexplicable ability to refuse the family technique.

It wasn't impossible to reach beyond. He knew that now.

Only, Namikaze Namie's mind was an unscalable wall. He could climb and climb to reach the top and overcome it, yet when he felt he was finally close, it shot past his grasp, growing ever taller. And it _pushed back._

But he'd _seen_ something. In that brief moment lingering between success and failure, he'd finally, if only fleetingly, made contact with a thought—an abstract memory—quite unlike the others. Something strange; something foreign. Something misplaced in the mind of a child. Something _he_ could hardly understand.

And, if he wasn't mistaken—no, rather, he was absolutely certain—there were more like it behind the "wall."

As for what that meant? He didn't know. He'd once considered the possibility that she'd constructed the blockade to separate her adult mentality from her child existence, which was an issue that had occurred a handful of times before, but just by interacting with the girl he realized that was not the case. She was perfectly aware of her advanced state and didn't question it. The thought processes present within her head were clearly mature, and she acknowledged that fact. So much so, even, that she consciously readjusted her display of intelligence to match her outward appearance and age group.

There was something more to it. Something he was missing. The girl's mind—no less the _human_ mind—was a giant, intricate puzzle waiting to be solved—and he _did_ enjoy a challenge.

…But there was only so far, with current technology and knowledge, that he could test her limits before it would become detrimental to her health. Today's revelation proved that.

There existed the possibility that he would never discover the solution to her mysterious secret, for the sole reason that it could cause irreparable damage. To both of them. Not only that, but inflicting serious harm on the child was out of the question. She was still a child of the village; a skilled and valuable asset to Konoha. One day she would serve as a fine kunoichi.

For that reason, it was necessary to find a way to bypass—or even prevent—the side effects that occurred. He would have to consult external sources that did not come from the family archive.

"What?" Namie spoke up, realizing she was being observed.

Inori blinked. "Nothing. Only thinking." He glanced towards the window and laughed lightly. "Ah, see, it's nearly lunch time. I space out when I'm hungry." Namie made to shoot back a retort, but the man rose to his feet and dusted off his pants. "I have some things to finish up before then. Get some rest before your visitors arrive, Namie-chan."

Before the girl could protest that irritating addition of an honorific, the man was already halfway into the hallway, sliding the door shut with a parting wink.

Namie narrowed her eyes at the closed door before rolling over onto her side and, with little else to do, surrendering to slumber's hold.

* * *

Usually, Taji was the one to handle and be present for Namie's medical dilemmas—which were quite frequent over the course of the past year. The last time Namikaze Minato had been in a hospital for his sister's sake was when she was barely a week old.

Coupled with her alleged digestion problems and recent knee injury, the fact that she'd fainted and been admitted for fatigue was cause for justified concern. Probably, it wouldn't be a far stretch to say the events were connected, or direct consequences of each other.

His suspicion was her knack for overworking and stressing herself out. She always put her all into everything she did, be it studying or training, and it wasn't the first time her devotion had worried him.

But, could there be another cause? He'd been aware of it for a while, but these issues only began around the time of Kushina's kidnapping. Though at the time it had only seemed like a coincidence, he wondered if the event and Namie's sudden decline in health were correlated.

Most information regarding the failed kidnapping had been covered up and ordered confidential by Hokage decree—even those involved were highly discouraged from speaking about it amongst themselves. But, as part of a larger picture, there were murmuring rumors of other, less-obscured kidnappings occurring throughout Konoha, both before and after said event.

At indeterminable intervals, local children were being spirited away in the dead of night. There weren't numerous cases—only perhaps half a dozen scattered across the past thirteen months, and even then, most were orphans—yet none of these children had been recovered. The perpetrator was unknown. It could have been Kumogakure's doing, certainly, yet some of these children were not even of shinobi families. Not only that, border security had been tightened ever since Kushina's incident and children had _still_ gone missing afterwards.

Minato had been tasked with examining one of said kidnappings a few weeks before, only to come up as empty handed as the rest. For all intents and purposes, these children had simply…vanished. There was no evidence that the youngsters didn't simply choose to leave of their own volition, so these cases had gone largely uninvestigated.

However, something interesting he'd learned from the parents was that two of these children experienced varying levels of sickness shortly before their disappearance.

He was extremely reluctant to admit that, perhaps, Namie would become involved in such a matter.

'_I would never let that happen.'_ He promised, but only to himself, because it would be reckless to swear it to the girl herself and he would faster swallow a shuriken than break her trust. As an active chuunin, there were times he wouldn't be around to prevent such a thing from occurring. It was a small wonder that he was in Konoha the day Kushina had been kidnapped, even. If he'd been a moment slower in reacting…

The blond quickly shook those thoughts from his mind. It had already happened. It was long in the past, and things turned out for the better. There was no use in thinking back on the what-ifs.

His gaze traveled towards the small, sleeping girl. As always, when she slept, her expression was troubled. She did well to hide it in her waking moments, with reassuring, cocky grins and general contentment, but there was always something weighing on her mind when she thought the world was turned away.

Once before, and only once, he'd caught her crying in her sleep.

Sometimes he wished her inner thoughts were as much of an open book as her emotions, because otherwise she wouldn't speak a word of her troubles. Even Kushina had offhandedly mentioned the way Namie restrained herself.

The girl in question began to stir, and, slowly, her eyes flicked open to meet his own.

"Brother," she mumbled tiredly, throwing a hand up to rub away the exhaustion from her eyes and sitting up. A great yawn escaped her and she scratched at her head while blinking blearily.

"Namie," he greeted, smiling faintly. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she blinked, focusing her sight towards her hands that were set on her lap atop the bed covers. After a moment, she returned her gaze to him.

The room was silent—she'd listened for nurses' footsteps, for Inori's telltale gait, steady, measured, but she'd largely been left to her own devices. There was a chance some ANBU was skulking around unseen, though she highly doubted it. Minato was the only shinobi present.

Namie studied her brother's mildly concerned expression, still a calm mask revealing very little, before letting her eyes drift up towards his experience-scuffed Konoha forehead protector.

She hated making him worry. But more than that, she didn't want him to think she was weak. She'd tasked herself as his protector—both his and Kushina's—and there was no room for feebleness, not for a defender. It was bad enough seeing his sympathetic glances each time she was taken to meet with Inori in the hospital.

What would he think—what would he _say_, if she told him the truth? The notion to confess was brief, but strong.

Her entire existence was wrapped in lies. She'd always been a straightforward person, naturally withholding her share of secrets as any other, but as far as lying went, she avoided it as much as possible to prevent complexities. Here, as Namikaze Namie, she'd been a liar since birth. There was hardly a time when she could reveal her true self, true feelings, thoughts, to anyone. Everything about her was fabricated, with reality buried far, far beneath.

In that instance, if she _told_ him—really told him, let her innermost thoughts boil over, shared things that had no place in this world, at this time—what would happen?

She could tell him. She could do it and accept whatever consequences resulted. Even if those consequences were abandonment, imprisonment, isolation, exile, or whatever because being something she wasn't, keeping secrets, was so _damn hard._

Being watched over in such careful scrutiny, with such unabashed care, by someone who was her blood relation but not _truly_ a sibling—by someone who was none the wiser…

The charade became increasingly more difficult with each passing year.

"I had a bad dream," she spoke the words quickly, unfiltered, before she could take them back.

Minato's expression momentarily faltered, mouth hanging open in slight shock, as it may very well have been the first time his sister voluntarily shared such information. "Huh?"

"About you." She paused. "And Kushina-nee-chan."

There was another gap in which she took great deliberation before speaking again.

"You both died." Hands clenched tightly to the blankets. "And it felt so real and awful and I—" her voice caught. "I have a lot of nightmares. In one, Kushina-nee-chan was kidnapped—"

—There was a sharp intake of breath—

"—and I was so afraid she wouldn't come back, but then you ended up saving her." A beat of silence. "And in another, there was a monster—a big, terrifying thing with so much power and—" Again, she fell silent, and this time refrained from speaking. Speaking of the Kyuubi was far too much, far too soon. "In another, I was alone." She concluded, losing her stream of thought. What had been the purpose of that, she wondered. That impulsive, rambling speech.

Namie quickly glanced up towards Minato, checking his reaction. "But they were just dreams," she offered weakly, with an edge of desperation.

A hand was suddenly set on her shoulder and she was gently pushed back to the pillows. The same hand then patted her head, lightly, soothingly, and she became aware of the cold, clammy sweat that had coated her skin during the rant.

"They were just dreams," Minato agreed, quietly but quickly, looking nearly as panicked as she felt—only _nearly_ because, finally, his cool, responsible, reliable façade had bent and there was some other, raw emotion to interpret, no matter how small or fleeting. "Rest more, Namie. Don't worry about them right now. Just sleep."

There was a brief rustling, and, as the young girl complied, she couldn't help but feel that there were two pairs of eyes watching over her instead of just one.

* * *

The next time she awoke, there was a familiar face at her bedside.

"'Bout time you woke up, 'ttebane!"

"Kushina…?" Namie bolted into a sitting position. "Kushina-nee-chan! Where's Minato?"

Kushina's grin drooped into a pout. "Not so excited to see me, huh?"

"No, I am, I just—"

The redhead harrumphed. "Ha! Save it. I see your priorities." After a moment, she smiled at the blonde. "Your dependable older brother went to get you some grub. It's already dinner time, you know? You were out for a while." She glanced away thoughtfully. "What happened, anyways? You okay, Namie-chan?" Her tone became gentle, tentative, nearer to the end.

"I just overworked myself, I guess." Namie muttered, recalling she was admitted due to fatigue. "I'm fine, Kushina-nee-chan."

The redheaded Uzumaki scrutinized her with sharp violet eyes for a moment before shrugging. "If you say so. I mean, I would _hope_ so, because it just so happens that we can start training together again soon."

The blonde's expression brightened. "Really?"

"You betcha!" Kushina beamed. She opened her mouth to say more, but the sound of an abrupt knock cut her off.

"Come in?" Namie spoke after exchanging glances with her mentor, eyeing the door curiously.

There was a moment's hesitation, but then the door slid open to reveal a handful of familiar faces and seven children stumbled in. They stood, in varying levels of awe and adoration, and a bit of fear, as their eyes landed on Kushina. Someone mumbled something about Namie being amazing for not lying, but the words were unclear.

"Who are these punks?" She questioned the blonde in confusion, raising a brow.

"Classmates." Namie answered, just as baffled. "Suzu-chan," she began, scanning their faces, "Genma-kun, Ebisu-kun, Aoba-kun, Raidou-kun, Toriichi-kun." She paused. "Inuzuka. What are you all doing here?"

Genma, unofficial ringleader and always the voice of reason, spoke first, before Toboe could shoot back a scathing reply at the manner of address. "We heard you were in the hospital."

"But that only happened this morning—"

"New travels fast in Konoha," Suzume provided.

During this exchange, Kushina flipped her gaze wildly between the group and her blonde friend. _'Since when did she get friends of her own? And so many?!'_

"Kushina-nee-chan," Namie spoke, to which the redhead immediately returned her attention, "They've been wanting to meet you. Apparently you have a reputation as 'Habanero-sama' in the neighborhood."

"_Haba—_" She choked. She'd done her best to keep Namie from learning her nickname, for the sole reason that she would shorten it to _that_ and probably never let her live it down. "Ah, ahahah!" She guffawed, jumping to her feet and setting her hands on her hips imposingly. "You brats have heard of me, huh?"

They were a motley crew, that much was clear—but it only made sense that someone like Namie attracted a ragtag bunch. They looked, overall, uninteresting, with blank, drooling kiddy faces—except for the cool one with the dango stick in his mouth and the prickly Inuzuka. The other—the only girl—seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders, too. Only about half of them seemed even remotely excited to meet her.

"That's right, I'm Uzumaki Kushina, the Red Hot Habanero—and one day I'm going to be Konoha's first female Hokage! Get in my way and I'll beat you to a pulp, 'ttebane!"

Namie very nearly dropped her face into her hands at the hot-blooded display. She was almost as bad as Jiraiya.

At that moment, the door opened to admit yet another visitor—one who caused the redhead to stop short and tense up, looking mortified. The group of kids turned their attention to the entrance to see just who could possibly affect the Habanero-sama in such a way.

Minato stood in the doorway with a tray of food in his hands and an expression that looked like he was trying—with extreme sincerity—not to laugh. Instead, he forced a smile. "Kushina…"

Said redhead blatantly avoided the blond teenager's eyes and instead grinned awkwardly at Namie as her face steadily reddened. "H-hey, look at that! Dinner!"

Namie couldn't resist the urge to facepalm and resigned herself to the action.

Minato glanced at the children littering the room. "Are you Namie's classmates?"

"Yep. Who're you, nii-san?" Raidou piped up among a series of nods. Half of the boys were still starstruck by Kushina' s mere presence.

"I'm her brother, Minato." He supplied, smiling politely. "Thank you for coming to visit Namie, but—"

"Y-yeah! It was a nice effort and all, but she needs some space! You know, time to eat and all." Kushina added loudly, still very clearly embarrassed. "You can always come back later, 'ttebane!"

At that moment, the door opened yet again to reveal the scowl of an irritated nurse. "You kids are too loud! Rule's two visitors at a time, and the loud ones can stay in the lobby!"

A defeated look spread over Kushina's face as she received the brunt of the nurse's glare. Then, after gathering herself and salvaging her dignity, she ushered (shoved) the group of students out of the room under the Nurse's watchful stink eye. "R-right. Let's let Namie-chan have her peace!"

Minato simply stood to the side as this episode occurred, smiling in amusement. Once the room was cleared, he silently approached Namie and set the tray of food on her bedside table. "There wasn't a lot to choose from," he commented mildly. "But it's better than whatever we would normally eat for dinner without Taji around, anyway."

Namie glanced at the lukewarm plate of food—a simple meal of rice and fish—and nodded sagely. If Kushina had been the one to bring her meal, no doubt it would have been ramen. "Thanks, Brother. What about you? What are you going to eat?"

Minato rubbed the back of his neck. "Kushina actually made me a big lunch—a little _too_ big—so I'm eating leftovers."

If she wasn't mistaken, his cheeks had turned ever-so-slightly pink.

She smirked. "I see." They lapsed into silence as she began to pick at the entrée. The day's events had left her strangely hungry—and what a day it had turned out to be.

At the very least, she felt well-rested.

"Namie," the boy spoke up as soon as his sister finished her meal and drained the small cup of juice that accompanied it, "are you feeling better?" There was a quiet, pointed undertone to his question that harkened back to the bleary almost-breakdown from earlier that day.

The blonde set the cup down with a dull, hollow thud and nodded slowly.

"I am."

It was only a partial lie.

* * *

**A/N: **You know, it's not like I have this hidden agenda of withholding information from you all and building things up slowly in order to spring something really intensely dramatic out of the blue. …Actually, don't trust me. I might be a liar. But things will happen as they do. I just really like building up plot and working on character development. And I do plan on explaining Namie's mental block ability/whatever it is (I know exactly what it is, don't worry), eventually. It's not going to remain as something vague and hardly touched upon like it was in this chapter.

Anyway, that's it for stocked up chapters. I _am _working on the next but it's not quite done and I'm taking a small break since I've worked on this nonstop pretty much since April. I have no intentions of abandoning it, though. I've put too much time and effort into it for that, and things have been planned out so I won't lose my way. I want to say there are many interesting things in store—at least,_ I'm_ excited about where this is going, hehe.

Thank you so much for all reads/faves/follows! And reviewers: **Kasuke. Hagase, milpld, LittleRedRWBY, Bananarock509, Lady Syndra, Vaughn Tyler, KoriYukiYao, coronadomontes, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, KisaragiMarru, Sethera, littlemelonatplay, Flor, ****Deluxemclovin,** and **MythologyGirl**. Thanks for all the support.

General review replies are in the same place as usual (kettobase on dreamwidth).


	16. Fourteen: First Date, Fateful Meeting

**Chapter Fourteen SPECIAL: First Date/ Fateful Meeting**

**If you don't really care for reading KushiMina fluff, feel free to skip to about the bottom half of this chapter for the plot-relevant scenes. **

* * *

There came a time in every person's life when they encountered a very specific situation that would shape their future and their outlook on the more tender side of things from that point onwards.

It was first love.

Or, more accurately, the very first _date_ with that first love interest. The event that would make or break the relationship.

For some, this innocent love went unrequited and never moved past the state of adoration. For some, it ended in rejection. But for the lucky ones, it had the potential to lead to something more.

While Uzumaki Kushina and Namikaze Minato had known each other for quite a while and had steadily been growing closer in their teenage years, they had yet to interact in an actual, official date.

She'd made a painstakingly devoted effort to prepare lunchboxes for the blond who'd captured her heart (of which he'd eaten every single bite, regardless of taste), he'd made an effort to escort her and keep her company whenever they chanced a meeting, and she'd even been invited over to dinner with the family a handful of times (she'd never refused, even if it meant she would have to ditch training with her sensei). Beyond that, there wasn't much development in the romance department. If anything, the subject was being danced around and treated with care. In other words, they were avoiding it.

However, this was soon to change.

Because, though they were both still young, they had reached the age where they were growing and maturing, where babyish-round faces and childlike appearances were being shed, replaced by sharp angles and long, graceful limbs. Though, there was also the awkward impasse phase that involved growing accustomed to these changes.

Along with this shift came the shocking realization that, because they'd only paid attention to each other as members of the opposite sex, they neglected to notice that there were _others_ who had begun to discover this fact as well.

When Kushina realized that Minato had attracted quite a sizeable fanbase of admirers, Training Field Eight suffered extensive damage that knocked it off the roster for a week.

When a pretty young civilian girl approached the blond and gifted him with a bento box—which was not _nearly_ as beautiful as her own, Kushina noted spitefully—Training Field Eight was once again thrashed and the damage extended to the edges of Seven and Nine as well. She'd received a warning and was banned from employing whatever techniques had caused such devastation twice in a row without supervision, and was barred from using the training grounds for two weeks.

After that incident, she'd taken to controlling her jealousy and channeling her displeasure by instead glaring at whatever other females tried to approach Minato when she was around.

It was moderately effective (with the added bonus of sparking rumors of a red, nine-tailed phantom lurking around Konoha), but she couldn't_ constantly_ deflect the other girls' advances—and she was beginning to feel like an overprotective guard dog. Not only that, but Minato discouraged her from appearing so unfriendly and aggressive towards others. He seemed wholly oblivious to the implications of her behavior.

So, she took a step back and evaluated their relationship, knowing full well what her feelings on the matter were about, but wondering if he felt the same.

For the past two years she'd been head over heels for the boy, but these feelings had gone largely unspoken. It was difficult for her to voice them, in part due to the nine-tailed passenger she now hosted. The fear that—perhaps—her object of affection would reject her for being a jinchuuriki persistently gnawed at her thoughts.

Little known to the redheaded Uzumaki, the very first time another boy showed interest in her, Minato refused to accept missions outside of Konoha for an entire week.

They cared for each other deeply in their own ways, but there was an error in communication on both ends.

A little push was needed to move things along.

And, as Jiraiya had requested, Namie was tasked with accomplishing that. Though, subtle hinting and matchmaking were far from her interests or skill level. Much like the time she'd set up their first "dinner date," which wasn't even a real date since she and Taji were present, her manner of executing things involved a little force and manipulation that only children capable of smiling brightly and innocently were capable of doing.

That, and a shameless affinity for bluntness.

"So, when are you and Kushina-nee-chan gonna go on a proper date, Brother?" She'd asked cheerfully, with a grin that came off as more smug than innocent, as she sat snuggled amongst a pile of pillows and blankets on the living room floor to fend off the frigid winter afternoon and browsed through a manual on basic jutsus.

Winters in Konoha were typically mild, but some years brought an exception to the climate. Though, she had yet to witness snowfall. Probably, extreme frost in the Land of Fire was something incredibly rare, given the name and geography.

Minato was settled on the couch behind her, studying numerous scrolls and texts regarding certain techniques that Jiraiya wanted him to accomplish since his senjutsu lessons had progressed so smoothly. He'd been captivated by the contents until Kushina's name was mentioned—the moment the word "date" was spoken, his grip on the scroll went lax and he quite nearly dropped it. To save face, he rolled it back up into a cylinder and set it aside in favor of a random book, which he looked over thoughtfully before glancing down at his sister.

Ever since her stay in the hospital two months ago, she'd recovered to a healthy state and since had no need to return to the place for her usual check-ups—but along with that was a change in personality. Particularly, regarding Kushina. She'd actually become strangely nosy. But it was a small price to pay for the fact that she'd grown to be more open and honest regarding certain things. That same cautious restraint from before was still present, but to a lesser extent. She'd chosen to share her nightmares whenever they occurred, and in turn some of her fears. And also, though rarely, her complaints about some of her friends.

Sometimes, it concerned him that she hung around a group that consisted largely of boys. Especially when she was so apt at picking up on situations like _this _and mentioning words like _that._

"Date?" He repeated, feigning ignorance.

Namie's grin widened. Her brother was already at that age where hormones were kicking in and the quality of his voice was steadily changing—it amused her to no end when it went hoarse and cracked at random moments, like now. It just_ ruined_ his nonchalant behavior. She wouldn't give him grief over it, though. Kushina probably teased him enough for the both of them.

"Yeah, date. I'm a girl, you know. We can pick up on these things. You two obviously like each other." She sighed, grin fading, as she set her book down and glanced to the window. "Actually, probably all of Konoha knows it."

"All of Konoha—? I think that's an exaggeration."

"You didn't deny it, Brother!"

"Well—"

Namie scrambled up onto the couch beside her sibling with another grin. "You've liked her for a while, right?" She waited for a response, but he didn't speak fast enough for her tastes. "Why not make it official, then?" She canted her head to the side curiously.

"Namie…just where did you hear about these kinds of things? You're not—" he paused, "_you're_ not dating someone, are you?" His eyebrows furrowed in concern. She was a child—just eight—but did young girls focus on romance at such a young age? He could only vaguely recall the female classmates from his own Academy days, so he couldn't be sure if this type of thing was common.

Regardless, he had paid particular attention to how close she and her cool, bandana-wearing classmate had grown, though they'd always come off as friends more than anything else. It was actually the Inuzuka classmate he was worried about, since he paid the little blonde a great deal of attention despite her obvious dislike for him. If she didn't have two female friends in her small social circle, he had a feeling he would fret over this topic more than he already did.

It was going to be a nightmare when she became a teenager.

"Me?" Namie asked, expression contorting as she mused over who he was hinting at. Of all of her classmates, she only interacted extensively with three: Suzume, Toboe and Genma. It was unlikely he was talking about Suzume, she refused to even consider Toboe as an option, and Genma was too much of a pretty boy and one of the girls' favorites, so he already had more attention than he knew how to handle. There was no reason for him to think she was involved with any of them. "Don't change the subject, Brother." She countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Right, right…" Minato sighed. He didn't know why he worried about _her_—with that personality, she wouldn't pick just any random kid as a boyfriend. "I do—like her, I mean." He scratched at the back of his head. "But don't these things just kind of happen naturally?"

The girl regarded him with pursed lips. "You think someone else won't come along and try to woo her while you just wait it out? That's kinda naïve, Brother."

The older blond nearly flinched. _'She's so blunt. When did Namie learn how to speak so directly?'_ He sighed again and leaned back into the couch cushions. No matter how she spoke it, she had a point. But he had faith that no one else would come between them—maybe he was too confident?

"So I should…take Kushina on a date?" His tone was uncertain. He wasn't even sure where to take her.

Namie nodded brightly. "I'm sure it'll make her happy."

* * *

For all her meddling, the young blonde hadn't expected her brother to act so quickly, but only a mere two days later the young almost-couple was scheduled for their very first date. And out of sheer concern—not due to nosiness _at all_—Namie decided to tail them.

Only, she hadn't expected to have _company. _

"…Remind me, what are you two doing here, again?" Namie muttered, side-eyeing her two (or three, if the small brown canine counted) fellow spies.

The first, a frail-looking kunoichi with long, dark hair and pale skin—no older than Kushina—who bore the Uchiha insignia on the back of her wide-collared blouse, had briefly introduced herself as Mikoto if only to satisfy the younger girl's prying.

Mikoto. Yes, _that_ Mikoto. Itachi and Sasuke's _mom_ Mikoto.

Though Uchiha Mikoto had the appearance of a delicate porcelain doll, her attitude was the complete opposite. Similar to the redheaded Uzumaki, this kunoichi was also a spitfire, though somewhat subdued due to her doubtlessly noble clan upbringing. She was heavily reminiscent of Suzume in that respect.

It wasn't Namie's plan to keep bumping into important Uchiha figures—somehow, it just kept happening—and for that reason she largely decided to ignore the young woman—though her reason for being present was greatly apparent. The way she was staring at her older brother made Namie want to give him warning and send him running for the hills.

'_I feel so sorry for you, Brother…you attract the crazy ones. But at least she ends up with _Fugaku _eventually.'_ She shook her head as a pained expression crossed her face, and she did her best to stifle it before glancing past the jealous fangirl (she was all but biting her handkerchief and bawling at the sight of Minato and Kushina walking together) to glare at the second offender.

Inuzuka Toboe.

That dog boy was the last person she'd expected to encounter during this date-stalking mission (Jiraiya had said it: consider Minato's love life like a special mission assigned from him), and yet, here he was. Looking extremely bored and completely uninterested in the subject matter at hand and instead focusing his attention on his blonde classmate and meeting her glare with a sneer of his own.

Naturally, a sparring match between the two was long overdue and he was obnoxiously calling out a challenge.

Because of that, he was only going to hinder her current objective.

No, rather, both of the other stalkers were obstacles to her immediate goals. Mikoto looked as if she would pounce the moment something she didn't approve of occurred, and Toboe was a consistent distraction.

There was no way to ditch either of the two because the Uchiha girl was taking up camp in all of the best spying locations as they tailed their targets and Toboe was capable of sniffing out her trail and catching up no matter where she went.

She knew this because she'd already tried throwing both of them off.

She'd come to the decision that it was best to resign herself to their company and simply look on while keeping both of them out of sight.

Mikoto's eyes turned up into crescents as she smiled in response to the little blonde's unhappy question. "Well, that's because you promised to formally introduce me to your dear brother as soon as that—_Uzumaki girl—_isn't around. Isn't that right, Namie-chan?" Her tone was contradictive to her behavior, and that was frightening. It was sugary-sweet and completely endearing, for a stalker hiding behind a trash can.

'_Uchihas.'_ Namie sighed, that pained look threatening to surface once again. And her words were the truth—to keep the dark-haired teenager from interrupting Minato and Kushina's date, she'd sworn to introduce Mikoto to the former in exchange for her keeping out of their business for the day. "Right, right." She agreed reluctantly. She didn't even have the heart to tell the older girl to drop the irritating honorific—she gave off the same sort of vibe as Inori so it was most likely futile to ask.

"Then, Inuzuka, I've already declined to fight you today, so why are you still here?" She wondered, lips pressed into a thin line. The Academy was currently closed for winter break, so, unable to nag her while on school grounds, the boy was set on bothering her everywhere else. It didn't help that taijutsu class had been divided based on skill level so that sparring matches were held between those with like ability. It just so happened that the brunet was a bracket below, so they hadn't been set to fight each other in quite some time.

Toboe scoffed, scratching at his short auburn ponytail and narrowing one hazel eye at the blonde. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Strawhead. It's been _weeks!_"

"No chance for a reschedule? I'm pretty busy, as you can see."

The brunet shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Hardly counts as busy. Looks to me like you're just some kinda nosy _brother complex._"

Namie balked, her hand slipping from the trash can lid and nearly sending it toppling over before her reflexes kicked in and she quickly stilled it. A nervous sweat trickled across her skin as she glanced at the boy and dog kneeled beside her, eyebrows furrowed. There was no way he was capable of knowing that kind of term on his own—he wasn't that attuned to, well, _people_, she'd noticed. But he'd definitely heard it from someone, most likely at the Academy, and that meant their classmates were gossiping strange things about her again.

Who was the source this time? And just where did they get _that_ idea?

Sure, she loved Minato because he was her one and only older brother, her only blood in this world, but no one knew the truth behind that. The truth behind her situation. There was no way she could ever think of him in_ that_ manner. She only wanted to keep him safe, and happy, to protect him from his doomed future, which was ticking closer by the second—

Well. Maybe it was partially true.

Maybe she _did_ have a slight brother complex, but it definitely wasn't the kind that Toboe's claim implied—or rather, what she understood his words to mean. This was the first time she'd ever heard the phrase with her ears and not simply read about it, so she couldn't help but react with shock.

Whatever the case, it was absolutely none of their business and, particularly, they had no right to blab about it.

"Brother complex?" Mikoto briefly glanced her way, expression slightly pinched but irritation hidden behind a calm smile—a deceptive, artfully-crafted façade—before Namie shook her head and waved her hands to deny the accusation and diffuse the ticking time bomb she'd discovered the girl to be (the girl _would_ become Itachi and Sasuke's mother, after all, as well as Fugaku's wife—no weak-willed woman could handle those three together).

Instead, she whirled on the Inuzuka, hand raised and ready to sock him in the arm for even _thinking_ that, until she caught sight of his crooked grin and the way his eyes lit up in anticipation—he was baiting her. Trying to get under her skin, trying to get her fighting spirits riled.

_And she nearly fell for it. _

"I don't have a brother complex, not even one _bit_, so don't you ever say that again, you fleabag—I wasn't talking to you, Kurocha," she added quickly, taking a moment to scratch said pup between the ears.

Scowling, she turned her head away and glanced towards the village streets, honing her sights on the yellow-haired boy and redheaded girl who were leisurely browsing the market stalls together and ignoring her classmate's disappointed grumbles.

* * *

This entire situation was…surreal.

Kushina wasn't certain how to handle it—she wasn't even certain how exactly she'd come to agree to going out on a date (a real, actual _date _that wasn't just sitting in on family dinners with Namie-brat or meeting up for brief chit-chats after training and missions) with Namikaze Minato in the first place.

Probably, she'd been so overjoyed at the suggestion that she jumped at the chance. It wasn't only an overwhelming victory over those other girls who sent the googly-eyes towards the blond, but it was also confirmation that _he_ chose _her_.

Only, she hadn't stopped to think about what this kind of level in their relationship entailed—not at that time.

If they continued along this path, she knew that sooner or later (and sooner was inevitable) she would have to tell him about the Kyuubi residing within her. And that meant that she would face either acceptance or rejection.

The mere thought that _rejection _could play into the equation at all made her regret her decision to accompany him that afternoon.

Sure, he seemed fond of her now—and her feelings for him were beyond words—but would it remain that way when the cat—or rather, giant fox beast—was let out of the bag?

Kushina twisted a strand of hair—that thick, thread-like red hair that she'd once hated, until Minato came along—worriedly between her fingers as she wandered the marketplace at said blond's side.

The marketplace was as crowded as ever despite the cool winter weather, but the several bodies cramped together along the narrow street way did well to ward off the chill. But the downside to that was that most everyone was forced to walk closely together, shoulder-to-shoulder, just to navigate the area.

Once or twice already, their hands had bumped against each other, and she couldn't help but recoil at the contact. If he noticed, he chose to overlook her odd reaction. Though he did seem to be aware that she was far from comfortable, because he ensured there were no awkward silences by consistently keeping up small talk and asking her simple questions.

He was sweet.

However, that sweetness could have been conditional—reserved for girls who _weren't_ jinchuuriki. The idea that he might view her differently gnawed at her mind. Maybe it would be best to just rip off the band-aid and confess, if only to end this ceaseless worrying.

'_Yeah, right. What a great idea! Drop the biggest bombshell possible on our first date together and don't be surprised when it also turns out to be the very last later on, 'ttebane.'_

Kushina's lips twisted into a displeased pout as she focused her attention on a small selection of fine, artfully-lacquered hair pins and barrettes displayed in a nearby kiosk. She didn't realize she'd stopped walking until Minato's voice sounded from beside her.

"Do you like it?" He asked softly, following her line of sight to the tray of pins. He reached out and gently grasped one of the thin, indigo and ivory-shellacked barrettes, evidently assuming this was what had caught her attention and halted her in her tracks. With a small smile, he held the pin up towards her hair, where her old, faded-and-slightly-cracked, blue hair clip currently held her bangs away from her eyes.

For the first time that day, Kushina was face-to-face with the blond teenager—and it occurred to her that this was the first time she'd seen him without his forehead protector since their Academy days. His expression was much softer without that battle-worn badge defining him as an experienced shinobi—and his bright hair was much fluffier and not so tame without the bandana to tie it down. That, and, with the close proximity between them, she realized that his eyes weren't a single, even shade of that pleasant blue she was familiar with—they were mixed with some specks of greenish-turquoise as well. She couldn't hold his gaze for long and quickly looked away, forcing a broad grin. "I—uh, whaddya think, 'ttebane?!"

"I think it suits you, Kushina." Minato admitted honestly.

Heat rushed to the redhead's cheeks and her violet eyes snapped back towards the blond. "Really?"

"It really does," he confirmed, "will you let me buy it for you?"

Kushina's jaw unhinged slightly before she shook her head wildly to decline. "N-no way, something so fancy—I mean, it's probably expensive, right, dattebane? You really don't have to, Minato—"

"Don't worry about it, I really want to." Minato persisted, face coloring slightly as his voice caught mid-sentence. A somewhat embarrassed grin crossed his face as he rubbed the back of his head and retreated to put some distance between them.

Kushina pressed a hand to her face as her skin continued to turn scarlet. No doubt she looked like a tomato. "Well…if you want to, 'ttebane. I won't—I won't stop you, you know." She grinned unsteadily, directing her gaze anywhere but towards the blond chuunin.

He watched her for a moment, lips quirked in a fond smile, before he turned to speak with the stall owner.

'_But...is this really okay?'_ Kushina wondered, wringing a strand of hair between her fingers as she watched Minato's back.

* * *

Minato noticed Kushina's strange behavior early on—rather, he'd noticed it for a while. Maybe it was because he'd fine-tuned his instincts towards secretive habits from being near his sister, but whatever the case, there was definitely something eating away at Kushina and she wasn't willing to share what exactly that was.

He wasn't fond of prying. Just like with Namie, he would sit quietly and wait for the redhead to open up and share her burdens.

So, for now, his priority was to distract Kushina from her worries and ensure that she enjoyed their time together.

Their date.

Their _first_ date.

He did his best to remain composed, but he was certainly glad that she'd agreed to go out with him that day. Maybe it was a good thing that he'd set this up instead of waiting for things to play out naturally.

Minato thanked the shopkeeper as he accepted the small gift bag containing Kushina's hair clip and turned to find her in the crowd.

She stood in the same place she'd been the whole time—he wasn't completely sure why, but because of her behavior, he was somewhat worried she would take off running when she got the chance. If he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing…

He looked down at the paper bag sitting in his hand before glancing at the redheaded girl. She was looking elsewhere, eyes reflecting worry among that troubled expression that had become habitual when she thought no one was looking her way or paying particular attention to her.

Of course, he had a hunch as to what was distressing her. Ever since her arrival in Konoha, she was a topic of special interest. Not only because she was the second Uzumaki within the village, but because she was being cared for at the Senju compound, near the late Uzumaki Mito. Most attention aimed towards her had been negative for her status as an outsider, and with her wild reputation, but some of the gossip contained interesting information.

Information regarding the nine-tailed chakra beast.

It was no secret that Mito was the previous jinchuuriki up until her death of old age—after a few years, confidentiality on certain top-secret matters faded and gossip spread like wildfire. And, apparently, Mito had contained the Kyuubi for several years.

Since he'd gained clearance to certain areas within the library and a multitude of documents that were banned to shinobi of lower ranks, he spent some time researching the issue.

Kushina's homeland—Uzushiogakure—was no more, obliterated during the second war, but her clan was host to a lineage of hearty, resilient individuals skilled in fuinjutsu. The fact that she—and _only_ she—had been brought to Konoha struck him as odd.

It was only a theory, and there was no one he could openly confirm it with, but he'd come to the shaky conclusion that Kushina was the new jinchuuriki for the Ninetails.

Certainly, he didn't like to pry, but at times his curiosity got the better of him. He wouldn't speak a word of his findings, however, as the information wasn't his own to share.

If that was the case (and he was mostly convinced it was), he could only imagine how isolated and alone Kushina felt. Seeing her hassled over being an outsider when they were younger had been difficult enough, but this was on a completely different level compared to that.

He wanted her to be happy.

"Kushina," Minato called, instantly gaining the girl's attention. The sadness fled immediately from her eyes and a shaky grin spread across her face. He held out the gift bag and, uncertainly, with one cautious eyebrow raised, the redhead stretched out her own hands to receive it.

She stared down at the little paper bag containing her gift—the first gift he'd ever given her—and was silent for a few moments before speaking. "Umm, Minato? There's something I wanna tell you, 'ttebane." Her tone was sure, determined, and though the troubled look was still present, she seemed to have reached an important decision.

The smile returned to his face. "There's a park nearby." He seemed to debate it for a moment, but eventually decided to hold out his hand.

Kushina gingerly accepted it.

* * *

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Toboe complained loudly, sticking out his tongue as he rolled his eyes at the scene. With a sigh, he leaned back against the side wall of one of the two buildings that flanked the small alleyway they were hiding in, Kurocha nestled comfortably in his lap.

"I agree." Mikoto sniffed, lips puffed out in a pout.

Namie's face reddened as she glared at the two. While she certainly wasn't one for romance, watching the blossoming relationship between her two favorite people was certainly endearing. She'd been worried, at first, seeing how distant and troubled Kushina seemed, but when she took Minato's hand it came as a great relief. Those two could work out their issues on their own.

She was confident this dating experience was going to end up positive for the both of them.

"It's time to go." Namie decided once Kushina and Minato were out of sight. "As in, go home. The mission's over."

"Huuuh?" The Uchiha heiress whined, glancing up at the blonde from her crouched position with her dark eyes wide. "No way, what happened to letting me meet Minato-kun?" A silly smile crossed her face at the mention of said blond's name.

The younger Namikaze barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "That's not really a good thing to do following their date. He'll be too preoccupied thinking over the day's events. Probably will be for a while, actually."

Truthfully, she never intended on letting Mikoto anywhere near Minato. With some luck, she and Fugaku would be set up together in an arranged marriage sometime soon to prevent said girl from hounding her brother. Though, seeing as Fugaku was a handful of years older than the Uchiha girl, that probably wouldn't happen for a few more years.

Maybe she should leave protecting Minato to Kushina since it looked like they were officially an item now.

"Hm, you're right. It probably would be better to do that another day. A day where it's just us!" Mikoto beamed, rising to her feet to brush off her pants.

Didn't those two somehow become friends later on in their adult years? Namie wondered how_ that_ came about. As of this moment, there was no way they would become besties anytime soon.

Toboe was instantly on his feet as well. "So, what now, Strawhead, time to fight?"

Right. She'd forgotten there was actually a reason the Inuzuka was hanging around.

Namie's face contorted painfully. Briefly, as a desperate last resort, she glanced pleadingly at the Uchiha.

Mikoto eyed her impassively before clapping her hands together and grinning a crescent-eyed grin. "Ah, that's right! Namie-chan, there's something I want to give you back at the compound, remember? We better go before it gets too late!"

Namie shrugged helplessly at her classmate. "You heard her. I still have things to do."

One of Toboe's abnormally sharpened canine teeth poked past his lips as he scowled and shoved his hands deep into his gray shirt's front pocket. "So that's a no? Jeez, I waited around for this long just to get rejected?"

"You were rejected from the start," the blond murmured, running a hand through her bangs and glancing towards Kurocha, who Mikoto was fawning over. Neither of them had any interest in a children's squabble.

"Whatever. Don't think I'm gonna give up. Genma told me where you live!" With one final jab, Toboe stuck out his tongue and turned to scamper away, with his ninken following closely at his heels and leaving Mikoto looking somber.

"What a brat." She commented quietly.

"You're telling me."

Mikoto raised an eyebrow curiously, but the blonde girl simply shrugged and turned to follow her classmate's retreating trail. "Ah, wait!" The dark-haired girl called, hurrying to catch up. "I wasn't lying—lying isn't proper, really—there is something I'd like to give you, if you don't mind."

Namie mentally cringed at the first part of that sentence, but quickly overcame it and blinked owlishly at the Uchiha girl. "Really? Like what?" She didn't think she'd made a particularly good impression on the kunoichi, so it was a wonder she wanted her to hang around.

Mikoto laced her fingers together behind her back as she continued walking and hummed thoughtfully. "You'll see. Come on, let's get going."

* * *

The Uchiha compound—or rather, that entire section of Konoha—was somewhere Namie had never set foot. It was an isolated area she never had purpose in visiting, since she wasn't acquainted with any Uchihas (thankfully) and the same applied for her family. Mostly, the Uchiha clan members remained within their own boundaries, rarely traveling past the property lines unless they were shinobi or members of the police force. The compound was similar to a small village, a tenth, no, possibly a fifteenth the size of Konoha, with its own market area and festival space. Mostly, festivals took place near the Naka river, which cut through the compound.

Still, the clan was quite large, though nowhere near as prominent as it once was as a founding family. The Hyuuga clan was currently the most prominent, with the Sarutobi clan second and the Uchiha clan coming third, nearly tied with the Nara clan.

Apparently, Mikoto was from an immediate branch to the main family, the only daughter to the cousins of the main family, whose current head was Fugaku's grandfather. His parents had both been casualties in the second war—as had Mikoto's own mother—so he would be inheriting headship as soon as his grandfather passed away, since he was the eldest of his two siblings.

Namie learned this from Mikoto, who yakked hear ear off during the entire trip there.

Before, she'd been doubtful that Kushina and Mikoto could ever become friends, but with the way both liked to jabber on and on and gossip, it was no wonder they would end up that way in the future.

'_But I doubt _we'll_ ever get along.'_

"Here we are!" Mikoto called happily, spreading her arms out to display the grandeur of her family compound.

It was huge, indeed, but not that impressive. Namie smiled wryly. "Here we are." It was strange—these people were all living and breathing, but one day they would all be eliminated. Well, that event was still quite a few years ahead—some of the ones who would perish weren't even _alive_ yet. Not even Sasuke and Itachi were alive, yet.

She wasn't even certain Obito was alive yet.

Her knowledge of the massacre this clan would encounter in the future was a great landmine—was it something she would want to prevent? Was it something she would be capable of changing? How badly would that wreck the canon timeline? But at the same time, all of these people…they were most certainly alive. They hadn't done a thing. Not yet, anyway. did they truly deserve such a fate?

Probably, if she encountered Obito, an important component of executing the Uchiha massacre, change would be within her reach.

Only, that wasn't her priority. Obito was also the cause behind several other factors—namely, Minato and Kushina's death at Kyuubi's claws.

If she ever encountered Obito, she wasn't quite certain what she would do.

"What are you waiting for, Namie-chan? Come on!" Namie was distracted by Mikoto's cheerful waving. Reluctantly, she set foot past the compound's gates and entered the community.

She'd never felt so out of place.

It was like she'd trespassed onto sacred land, as an outsider. An extremely unwelcomed outsider. Her bright blonde hair stuck out blatantly against the standard dark-hair of the majority of the Uchihas. Some had varying shades of other dark colors, like Mikoto's raven-blue, but most tended to be brunettes. There were definitely no blondes.

And definitely no one with blue eyes.

Maybe she'd only imagined all of the staring, but she couldn't shake the feeling that all eyes were on her as she tagged along after Mikoto.

Weren't the Uchihas all extremely private? Did they even allow visitors that weren't related to the clan?

_Did the Hokage even merit visits?_

She definitely wasn't imagining the paranoia. An elderly woman's eyes nearly bugged out the moment she spotted Namie, and she dropped what she was doing to rush inside and away from their sights—probably to fetch her husband or child to report the strange sighting.

Mikoto seemed wholly unperturbed by her clanmate's reactions, and oblivious to Namie's discomfort, and simply continued on blithely.

They hadn't even moved thirty paces into the compound before someone barred their way.

Namie's eyes startled open when she spotted another familiar Uchiha—fate was not her friend, so of course it was none other than Fugaku. Older than the last time they'd met, naturally, but his face was one that couldn't be forgotten easily.

He didn't seem to recognize her, though his focus was mainly on the other Uchiha.

"Mikoto…" He began, with a tone that came across as half-exasperated and half-accustomed to her strange behavior, as if he'd dealt with situations like this several times in the past.

"Oh, Fugaku, no patrol duties today?" She chirped with a warm smile.

'_Is that any way to speak to the clan-head-to-be? Distant cousins or not.'_ Namie wondered, biting her lip as she glanced between them from behind Mikoto, doing her best to remain out of sight for as long as possible.

"No, none today." He replied evenly, setting a hand on his hip, looking like he was resisting the urge to run a hand across his face—or maybe just sit down and cry. "Mikoto," he began again, haltingly, "you do remember the lectures that state there's a protocol for inviting guests into the compound, yes?"

'_Lecture_s?_ As in plural? Just how often was this girl reprimanded?'_ Unconsciously, Namie gripped the hem of Mikoto's blouse. Somehow, she expected trouble.

"But Namie-chan is my friend. That's fine, isn't it? I just want to give something to her—it won't take long at all."

"Well, it's fine…but only after you submit the name for clearance on the visitors list."

This was starting to sound like a prison situation to Namie. They really had strict rules set in place. Even so, Fugaku was being surprisingly gentle with Mikoto. Sasuke's father had always come off as strict and emotionless, but now that picture was being painted over.

Mikoto set her hands on her hips and sighed. "Can't you let it go just this once, Fugaku? I promise I'll follow the rules next time."

His expression seemed to falter upon hearing the words "next time."

Who knew. His future wife was a repeat offender in her youth.

Namie couldn't help but snicker at the revelation, but she instantly realized that was a bad move. The older Uchiha's dark eyes darted instantly to her direction and he all but flinched in recognition.

Maybe her appearance was more memorable than she'd thought. Blondes were somewhat uncommon in Konoha, after all—though most were Yamanakas.

Fugaku's eyes read that he all but wanted to pretend Namie didn't exist because if he acknowledged her it would only agitate the current issue. Before he could ignore her again, however, Namie spoke up smugly, sure to make her voice sound as pompous and childish as possible.

"Hey, you, I remember you!"

His eyebrow twitched and Namie was certain he wanted for all the world to tell her to leave immediately, though he refrained.

"Oh? You've met?" Mikoto mused, glancing from her senior to the small blonde.

"Yep! He was my babysitter once." Said blonde grinned brightly.

"Oh, I see! He's really wonderful with children, did you know, Namie-chan? He looks after all of the younger clan kids, even the ones aside from his little sisters."

Little sisters. No wonder he didn't like her. They were probably little terrors that traumatized him or something. It also explained the way he handled Mikoto. Probably, his younger sisters did pretty much whatever they wanted and he couldn't tame them so he was forced to just tolerate it.

Fugaku's expression turned openly miserable as he ran a hand through his hair and exhaled tiredly. "Fine. I'll look the other way this time, but please remember to follow proper procedures next time, Mikoto."

"Sure thing! I promised, didn't I?"

After that unexpected episode, the tension in the atmosphere eased away and most of the clan members ignored Namie's presence entirely, knowing it would only be temporary.

Mikoto's gift ended up being a small container of _konpeito_ she'd been gifted by one of the boys in Konoha—a reject re-gift. Namie wasn't sure if she should feel insulted or just not think about it and accept the gift at face-value. Of course, this was a token of their trust and the goodwill that Namie would hold up her end of the deal and introducing her to Minato sometime soon. But really, Mikoto seriously viewed her as a kid easily won over by candy.

She would just have to see about following through on the promise, but the free sweets _did_ build Mikoto up slightly in her favor.

After the exchange, Namie was free to leave, and she chose to do so without Mikoto's company, if only to make the trip shorter. The Uchiha girl loved to talk no matter what and had stopped them several times on the way to her home to point out certain buildings and landmarks and provide a small blurb on everything.

By the time she was free to leave, the sun was setting and the air was beginning to chill.

Namie wanted to get home as soon as possible—or at least, out of the Uchiha compound. No one was openly staring at her anymore, mainly because most of the adults had already moved indoors, but she could still feel the eyes every now and then. And a small bit of hostility.

She nearly made it out of the compound intact—nearly, because the moment she stepped towards the front gate, something came flying wildly through the air and ricocheted painfully off of her skull, knocking her into the ground. The candy container slipped from her grasp and tumbled along the ground—thankfully remaining in one piece—though she skinned one of her hands in an attempt to break her fall. A rubber ball lolled innocently nearby.

Shrieks of young children met her ears as she struggled to comprehend her surroundings and blink away the shock, relieved there was no lasting pain aside from the moment of impact. When her sense returned, she leapt to her feet and grit her teeth, swiped up the ball and held it above her head threateningly towards the small group of Uchiha kids of various ages that stood a few feet away.

Four were in a huddle, looking obnoxiously gleeful, while another, the youngest, stood a ways in front of them, hands raised halfway and frozen in shock, expression surprised and fearful like a deer caught in headlights. He was _definitely_ the one who threw a ball at her head. When they all realized she was going to send the ball right back at them without mercy, they whooped and hollered and turned on their heels to dart away from her wrath. Namie wasted no time in hurrying forwards and hurling the ball towards them, hoping to nail one of them in the head as well, but as luck would have it, she missed.

However, the worried-looking one, the offender, managed to stumble and trip over his own feet during his escape attempt, and crashed painfully to the ground with a loud cry. Namie was on him in an instant.

She gripped the collar of his dark shirt and hoisted him onto his feet—she would have liked to dangle him, but for her short height and his size, she wouldn't have succeeded in intimidating him at all because his toes would still touch the ground.

Either way, it seemed he was frightened. "I'm sorry! Sorry, nee-chan, I didn't mean to do it, really! They told me they would let me into the group if I threw it at you!" The young boy cried, sounding close to tears as he shielded his head from possible retaliation.

Namie turned the boy to face her and released his shirt gruffly before crossing her arms and squinting dangerously. "Whaddya mean, brat, you just do whatever others tell you to get their acceptance?" She growled, scowling. "That really hurt!"

"I said sorry!" The boy sobbed, scrubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes before glancing up at her with wide, teary eyes and giving her a good look at his crying face.

And.

The.

World.

_Stopped._

The seconds seemed to tick by painfully slow as she struggled to steady her breathing, struggled to grasp control of her senses. The cool weather, the distant civilian chattering, all drowned beneath the white-noise static that filled her mind.

She'd failed to notice it before in her anger, but there was a very familiar, very iconic pair of goggles set snugly atop the young boy's head, which he'd been forced to push up and out of the way to wipe his tears.

The spiky-haired child registered her shocked expression and behavior as anger, because he backed up and eyed her warily, sniffling. "Don't hit me, nee-chan."

A myriad of emotions whirled through her, catching her up in an internal storm.

Rage. Anger. Hurt. Fear. Pity. Heartache. Confusion. Indignation. Helplessness.

It all stopped.

She was numb.

This child—the catalyst for so many events to come—was here, within her reach, yet she couldn't do a thing about it. Didn't_ know_ what to do. Once again, she was stuck at an impasse, dumbstruck by the curveball dealt by fate.

Mechanically, haltingly, Namie willed herself to move and turned away from the boy to walk towards the fallen _konpeito_ tin. She gathered it up within her hands, fingers stiff, clumsy, held it close to her chest and exited the compound without looking back. Only moving forward.

What were the chances?

Uchiha Obito was here, and very much alive.

* * *

**A/N: **…That break took longer than I thought it would. Seriously. I got caught up watching the 2011 reboot of Hunter x Hunter and_ completely_ fell in love. I'm tempted to start an SI fic for that series too, after I read some of the manga and get myself a little more familiarized, but first things first, my priority is Laterality.

Also this isn't really proofread yet, I just wanted to post it ASAP since it's been a while. I'll fix typos and whatnot later!

I love how some of you dislike Inori because he's actually one of my favorite characters (not to say I agree with what he does, though). Reactions to him are always fun to read whether it's positive or negative. I'm also glad some of you like him, too, but there's such a division! Like there's an anti-Inori club out there or something. Anyway, I've been hinting at some romantic interaction between Kushina and Minato for a while so this chapter actually has it—and writing KushiMina things always makes me so giggly and all warm and fuzzy because they're adorable. Can anyone say OTP? Still, it was a little difficult writing about it from Minato's perspective.

This special long-ish chapter is also my late thank-you to everyone for getting this story into triple digits regarding reviews, faves and follows! Nearly 200 reviews already, I'm so happy! It means a lot to me, really. Knowing people read, follow, fave, and that some take the time to leave comments is just so encouraging.

Next chapter will get the ball rolling again and things are going to get srs, y'all.

Thank you so much for all reads/faves/follows! And reviewers: **kairenayui, Sethera, Vaughn Tyler, coronadomontes, littlemelonatplay, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Littlebirdd, MythologyGirl, Kasuke. Hagase, Flor, JackFrost14, Nyght elf, Noxy the Proxy, KiyomiShizuru, **and** Counting Sinful Stars**.

Review replies are at the same place as always (kettobase on dreamwidth)

Oh, and to everyone back in school/going back to school soon: be safe, be wise, and study hard, suckers! I graduated from college back in May and I'm officially done with all that trouble (unless I decide to save up money for graduate school someday).


	17. Fifteen: An End, A Beginning

**Warnings:** Uh, rating change, language, brief suicide mention... Not sure if the language really warrants a change to the M rating but I plan to change it in the future anyway so why not just do it now?

Time skip spanning quite a few months from the previous chapter ahead.

* * *

"Damn_,_ you sleep in so late! Time to get up and at 'em!"

Namie—whose peaceful snoring slumber was rudely interrupted by a blazing hot firecracker of a kunoichi—snorted rather grossly as she was unceremoniously flipped from her mattress and into the wall.

She rubbed at her aching nose and uttered a string of jumbled swears—which only earned her a whop to the head.

"H-hey, don't go saying things like that out loud, Namie-brat! Minato'll kill me if he finds out I curse around you!"

"'Minato' eh? Didn't know you two were already so _cozy_, Kushina-nee-chan." This wake-up attempt was by far her favorite, since it didn't involve humiliating her and making her believe she'd wet the bed, or luring her out into the chilled morning streets in her pajamas, only to be drenched in a bucket of ice water, but that didn't mean she _appreciated _it. Payback was in order—she never let it pass by unnoticed when her mentor referred to her brother by his name and it never failed to elicit an appropriate reaction.

She took great satisfaction in the way the teenage redhead turned a curious shade of crimson and began sputtering incoherently. "Wha—whatever! Hurry up and get dressed. Meet me at the usual place in five minutes!"

"Whaa? Five? But I just—"

"No buts! If you're even a _second_ late, I'll make you do twenty times the extra work to make up for it, 'ttebane!" Before any more protests could be made, the Uzumaki kunoichi leapt up onto the window sill and then disappeared outside with a cheeky grin.

"I need to start locking that thing…" The blonde grumbled, only sparing a moment to stare glumly at the opened window before jumping to her feet and hurrying to beat the unfair deadline she'd been placed under. Even on a good day, it took at least seven minutes to reach the training grounds. Only Kushina could make it there in less time. It seemed this was her way of getting back at Namie's snide remarks.

"Namie—?" Taji called uncertainly as her blonde daughter rushed past, not even pausing to grab a morning snack. "Was that Kushina-chan that I heard?"

"Yep! Gotta go or she'll beat me!" The girl huffed, not even glancing over her shoulder as she sank down to swiftly jerk her sandals onto her feet. Once that was done, she darted towards the door.

"Alright. Be back in time for dinner!" She wasn't sure if the girl heard her, because the door had already slammed shut.

True to her word, Kushina piled more repetitions onto Namie's warm-ups and issued five times as many laps than usual because she'd been three minutes late. By the time their core training came around, it was noon and the young girl was nearly double over and wheezing.

"Kushina-nee-chan," the girl whined, writhing in the summer heat. "like I said…you're a slave driver! I'm…only…almost _nine_…"

"Ohh? And here I thought you could handle _anything_, 'ttebanne. What happened to that spirited little brat that claimed she'd surpass me, huh? Shame, too. I was gonna start teaching you about something reeeally awesome today. Guess you can't handle it…" Kushina shrugged dismissively, side-eyeing the younger girl.

"No. Teach me." As if struck by lightning, the blonde leapt to her feet and stood at attention, proving that her earlier griping was only for show.

The redhead smiled in approval. "That's the way to go!"

"But are you sure you have the time to start me on something new? You did just get promoted to chuunin…there's more important stuff to do now, right?" Namie wondered.

Kushina tapped her hitai-ate and grinned. "Kid, who do you think you're talking to?"

"Right, right. This is _you_ after all." She grumbled, sighing, busying herself by wiping the sweat from her brow with one of her sleeves.

"Would it kill you to be a little cuter?" Kushina huffed, scowling at the little blonde. When her only response was a shrug and slight roll of the eyes, the redhead sighed. "I meant to start this a while back, but…too many things happened."

Namie nodded, silently acknowledging the fact that her mentor was now a jinchuuriki. She'd never been directly informed of it, since it was a matter of national confidentiality privy to mostly the adults of Konoha (which somehow still fell to gossip, and Minato probably knew as well), but she had a feeling Kushina _knew_ that she knew, either way.

But all friendships harbored secrets that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

"Ever heard of fuinjutsu?"

The little blonde's eyes widened in mock-surprise. "Fuinjutsu? Yeah, Minato's mentioned it. Says it's really amazing. You can do something like _that,_ Kushina-nee-chan?" Of course she knew what it was.

The redhead grinned. "You bet your ass, 'ttebane! Impressive, huh?"

"But—are you sure? We both know I'm more taijutsu oriented."

She received a violet-hued stink eye in reply. "There you go, doubting me again! Do you wanna run more laps? Sheesh."

"No, but—"

"No buts! I told you, right? I'm gonna train you up to be awesome as hell so that your future teammates and even jounin instructor will be totally jealous!" Kushina declared, setting her hands on her hips. "Minato's picking it up pretty fast, so you should, too."

There was no use arguing with an Uzumaki. They always got what they wanted. "I'm—right. When do we start?" Namie grinned. '_So this is who he learned it from. I thought Jiraiya would have had a hand in it, too.'_

The redhead fished a small scroll from the pack she carried and tossed it brusquely to the blonde, who caught it a little clumsily in her haste. "You know I'm really no good at explaining the basics of things, so…you can probably make more sense of it on your own for now."

"A manual? Where did you get this, Kushina-nee-chan? I didn't know you read!" Namie gaped, staring at the scroll in her hands.

A vein throbbed near the older girl's temple as her hair began to billow dangerously, partitioning into nine crimson sections eerily reminiscent of tails. "_Oi_, Namie-brat, y'know you're bein' awfully cheeky today. I might have to beat it outta you, '_ttebane_." When the blonde only grinned brightly in response, Kushina took a long stride forwards to capture her in a headlock.

Namie did her best to dodge, but it was in vain. The redhead's knuckles began grinding against her skull, loosening the lazy bun she'd wrapped her hair into and making it look even _more_ half-assed.

"W-wait! Give, I give! _Uncle!_" Namie groaned, pulling at her hot-blooded mentor's arms weakly. "Sorry!"

With a cackle, the older girl released her apprentice and grinned victoriously. "That's what I thought. And it's something I brought with me from home, a long time ago." If Namie wasn't mistaken, the older girl's tone became wistful. Before she could take a proper glance at the redhead's face, however, the girl dropped a hand onto her head and ruffled her hair roughly once more. "So don't even think about losing it or pretending a dog ran off with it, got it?"

"Yes, Kushina-nee-chan…" Namie obeyed, batting at the hand irritably. It never paid to piss off the Red-Hot Habanero, since she didn't think twice about dishing out payback. She bent down to pick up the scroll she'd dropped during their tussle, then set to work on fixing her mussed hair. After Kushina got after her, it always ended up looking like a rat's nest (which wasn't much different from its usual appearance anyway).

"Hey! Strawhead!"

Both girls glanced towards the fenced perimeter of the training ground, immediately spotting two children loitering around the edge of the dirt road on the other side. One was a boy with a small brown canine at his feet, and the other was a bespectacled girl who had wild, dark hair.

"Ah. Inuzuka, Suzu-chan," Namie waved lazily, wondering why they were hailing her down.

"Didja forget? We have a test to study for." Toboe griped, scowling. Beside him, Suzume seemed to grumble out something that sounded suspiciously like, "I wouldn't put it past her to forget," but Namie was too far away to be certain. The pair had stopped by the blonde's house to collect her, but were directed to the training fields by her foster mother. For the most part, they were used to the run-around. The girl had trouble staying where she was supposed to be. And by now all youngsters who gravitated around Namie were also acquainted with Kushina and accustomed to her and the young blonde's training routine. At times, they'd also attempted to undertake her lessons, but for the small group, one training session with the redheaded hurricane was more than enough.

It didn't stop her unofficial "fanboys" from watching from the sidelines every now and then, however. Earlier that morning she'd been sure a familiar, bespectacled boy had been lingering nearby.

Namie turned her eyes towards Kushina, who shrugged. "We're pretty much done here, go ahead." A teasing grin quirked her lips. "I'm still surprised you managed to make friends your age, Namie-brat! But they're pretty much brats, too, so I guess like attracts like." Said girl opened her mouth to protest, but received a thump on the back from the redhead that sent her stumbling towards the awaiting children. "Don't forget to check that scroll."

"I know, Kushina-nee-chan, I will." Without another word, the girl hurried to her classmates. There was no point in saying goodbye, since she would probably swing around for dinner later on. Over time, the redhead and her brother had grown extremely close—to such an extent that the Uzumaki girl was practically an extension of her family. Ever since their first date, Namie suspected the two were already going together on steady terms, but neither had hinted at any such developments.

"Did you _have_ to bring this guy along, Suzu-chan?" Namie groused, pointing towards the Inuzuka with her thumb as she shimmied past the chain-link gate and turned her full attention to the other girl.

She said that, but it was most likely the other way around. Probably, Toboe had been out seeking Namie for a rematch when he'd bumped into Suzume, who was set on studying, and the more the merrier was best for such an occasion—not to mention the brunette girl's obvious (albeit one-sided) crush on the oblivious boy and need for his attention.

Over time, Toboe's taijutsu skills had improved to the point where he was on-par with the blonde, and he'd managed to gain a victory over her on two occasions. The first was during a day she'd been distracted, sometime after her discovery of the young Obito within the Uchiha compound, and the second had been a genuine win—though she was loathe to admit it. Instead, she continued to accept his challenges if only to prove that she was the better fighter and to show him that letting his few, insignificant victories go to his head was far too arrogant a thing to do. That, and shoving the brat's face into the dirt was just so _satisfying._

He still hadn't learned his lesson about moderation, however, and was constantly hounding her to pick another fight.

The only upside to this development was that she was able to look after Kurocha from time to time.

As for the curly-haired girl, she'd become much more tolerable as time passed. The two were nothing less than friends, outwardly—but sometimes Namie thought that maybe it was a one-sided development from her end—and in order to avoid remedial taijutsu and kunoichi classes respectively, they discovered that cooperating worked well in their favor.

And Suzume was far from stupid, so they matched well as studying partners, too.

Suzume adjusted her new glasses, pressing them against the bridge of her nose with a single finger, and levelly regarded the blonde. "He insisted."

"Hey, you told me you would help me study for the next test the last time I let you play with Kurocha. Remember?" Toboe defended, crossing his arms.

Namie only half-listened, as she was currently engaged in rubbing said dog between his furry ears. He yipped happily and rewarded her with a blissful doggy grin. "I remember."

"Where shall we go?" Suzume inquired, expression a bit pinched as she regarded the girl and canine sitting on the dirt road.

"Hmm…what's the test over, again?" The other girl wondered, standing up and brushing off her knees.

Toboe sighed. "It's still a downright mystery to me how your grades are so good when your memory kinda sucks, Strawhead."

Suzume grudgingly agreed—although _her _kunoichi class grades were always higher. She had that, at the very least. "Basic ninjutsu. Theories, reasons for use, which hand seals are required for specific techniques…and so on."

"Oh, right." She nodded sagely as the group began to move along. "Well, I'm hungry, so let's grab lunch first."

"Are you serious? We need to study, like, bad!" Toboe interjected, one small fang poking past his lips as he frowned unhappily.

"Then, we'll study wherever we eat." The blonde shrugged, set in her decision. She'd been training all morning; they should be more understanding.

The Inuzuka made to object, but a sudden growl from the dark-haired girl's stomach interrupted. "Ah—" Suzume dropped her hand over her stomach, blushing pink in embarrassment, before quickly adjusting her glasses and looking away. "…I am rather hungry, myself."

"Y'know, I should just give both of you knuckle sandwiches." Toboe griped.

Namie thumped the boy on the back of the head as she walked to the front of the small procession. "Come on dog breath, let's make it a race. Last one there pays the tab!"

* * *

"_No, _I'm telling you, the second hand seal is the Ram!"

"Pretty sure that's the third. The second is the Boar."

Namie crossed her arms definitively as the dog-lover sitting across from her set his hands firmly atop the table and leaned forwards challengingly.

"It's Dog-Ram-Boar."

"Dog-Boar-Ram." Namie returned, leaning forwards to meet the challenge. "It's a _really easy_ combo. How can you mess that up?"

Suzume sighed quietly as her two classmates bickered and practically smashed each other's foreheads together over the table that contained their half-eaten meals. She didn't know why she thought those two would be able to get any studying done with the way they argued. Namie had quite nearly up-ended her cup of tea, but the dark-haired girl rescued it just in time. "Namie is right, Toboe-kun." She stated plainly, not even needing to glance down at her scroll to confirm it.

Hearing the other girl speak up over their bickering caused the two to glance at their third companion curiously. Toboe scoffed. "No way. Prove it."

"Fine. I will." Namie performed the Dog-Boar-Ram hand seals and focused her chakra before transforming seamlessly into a carbon copy of the boy sitting across from her. "See?"

"Wha—no way! I was sure…"

"Sure _wrong._" Toboe's reflection taunted, grinning obnoxiously. "See? Look at me, I'm the dumbest kid in class. I have fleas and I like to sniff butts." Namie announced under guise, jumping to her feet and spreading her arms wide with a taunting, fanged grin.

Toboe sputtered indignantly while Suzume put her hand to her head and did her best to blend into the scenery and detach herself from the two immature children. A moment later, the Inuzuka boy leapt over the table and scrambled to grab the girl masquerading as a cheap copy of him in the middle of the street, but all fun ended when Namie turned to flee and instead bumped into a passerby. The jutsu immediately dispelled and the girl found herself face-to-face with—or rather, once she lowered her gaze, came face-to-face with—a young, lazy-eyed boy with starkly silver hair.

A wave of dim buzzing sounded in the corners of her mind, gentle and constant like white noise, at the sight of him. A brief feeling like déjà vu coursed over her, painfully similar to what she'd felt upon meeting Obito, but this time was different, this new arrival was different—and crucial to her placement in the timeline. Finally, _finally_, something was solid, something was concrete, and she could measure how far away future events were from her current position, using this child as a place marker.

But along with that realization came fear. Apprehension. This silver-haired child—Hatake Kakashi, _the_ Hatake Kakashi, no matter how young he currently was—looked to be about five years old. He'd lost everything—every_one_—by the time he was a teenager, so that limited her actions by a great, painful degree.

But this was, most definitely, _progress._

She forced herself to breathe.

As soon as it came, the uneasy feeling was gone.

"Ah, shi—crap. Sorry." Namie muttered, rubbing the back of her head as she caught herself cursing in front of a kid like her redheaded mentor. "Are you, uh, okay?"

The kid, whose face was oddly half-covered by a dark mask, eyed her levelly—his gaze neither offended nor amused. For a moment, he only stared, but then began to speak. "So this is what Academy students use ninjutsu for? What a joke."

Namie's worried smile dropped and she suddenly wished the mask covering the boy's face was a muzzle. "What?"

"I'm betting—if you even manage to pass—that _you'll_ be a genin for life." Still looking as uninterested as ever, the young Kakashi shrugged and turned to walk away.

"Hey, you—" The blonde reached out to grab the boy, but he nimbly evaded her. She caught her balance before she could stumble, and planted her feet firmly on the ground. "You brat. It's more than _you_ can do." She braced herself for his snarky reply, but he only spared her a brief, apathetic glance before continuing on his way. The girl could only stare after him in shock. What kind of kid was immune to taunting? _Hatake Kakashi_ or not! "No way. What a little _ass_."

The upbeat atmosphere from before vanished, and both classmates returned to their seats, deflated. Suzume glanced down the road, in the direction the boy went, and hummed thoughtfully. "He was among the newly enrolled student group in the spring, a few years under us. If I'm not mistaken, he's the son of the White Fang."

Toboe gaped in surprise. "Seriously? No way! I'd _kill _to be the White Fang's kid."

The blonde girl scoffed. "Whatever. I'm just glad he won't be in our graduating class."

* * *

Close to a year had passed by and, during that time, Yamanaka Inori hadn't been in contact with his little blonde patient whatsoever. He had said her break would last only two months at minimum, yet he unwittingly extended that deadline by becoming engrossed in further researching her condition.

It was mind boggling.

He wanted to believe that the answer was there, _just_ there, within his reach, yet his efforts continued to yield nothing of use.

He'd gone several years back in the family archives, in the Interrogation Department's own confidential files, yet none revealed particularly helpful or applicable information—even if they _did_, the sources of the information were long dead and gone. Most of the written up documents regarded captured criminals and spies from other villages, who were dealt with swiftly once their purposes had been fulfilled.

He'd gone to questionable lengths to obtain secret documents on similar matters from other countries, but not only was this information subject to tampering as a safety mechanism, it was another dead end.

He'd considered consulting the other two of the legendary Sannin for second opinions, yet this was something he wanted to keep as private as possible. That, and the Senju of said group was already long gone to who knew where. Orochimaru was also hugely eccentric, genius or not, and the thought of explaining this project to the strange man greatly put him off.

Call it hubris, but he wanted to be the one to discover just what made this little girl's mind so unique. Never before had such a thing occurred to such an extent, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something vital.

Probably, the young girl was the key herself.

If he continued their sessions, he would solve this mystery. He knew it. The repercussions and danger to her health were the only factors that brought him up short.

But, she'd been given quite the ample resting period. Probably, he could test her limits, if only a little.

"Inori-sensei." The small girl greeted in an offhand, automatic, manner as she entered the hospital room and slumped down unceremoniously on the stool set across from his usual chair. Rather—she was forced to jump up slightly, since it was set above the ground enough that her feet dangled and didn't even reach the white tiles when she was sitting. Curiously enough, she was lacking in the usual, confident energy. She didn't even comment on the ANBU standing nearby, inconspicuously at the far end of the room. Monkey had become a staple presence during these sessions. She never missed the chance to snark at the man. Namie merely sat, still, upon the stool, looking as small as ever.

Was that normal for children her age? Eight years old—no, by now she was verging on nine—without a proper growth spurt for her age yet. She was a very small child. But that was an idle thought; it didn't matter and he was no pediatrician.

"It's been such a long while and that's the only greeting I get?" Inori mused, breathing out a chuckle. "I'm a little hurt, Namie-chan."

"Well, I was kinda hoping you just forgot about me or something, really. Let's get this over with." She spoke dryly, deflecting his mocking cheer.

Well, that explained it. She was as unfriendly as always.

"Fine, fine. As you wish. But you're not exactly the most forgettable child, Namie-chan." Truthfully, he was thankful their bantering small talk was short-lived. She _was_ a somewhat endearing (though prickly) child, but he was far more interested in her mind than her personality. "I trust you're well-rested?"

The girl nodded shortly.

"Then, let's begin."

Namie closed her eyes obediently and Inori placed his palm lightly against the young blonde's forehead.

* * *

Fragments of past memories that were once buried deep, deep away, slowly rose to the surface of her thoughts in a hazy, unpleasant reproduction.

_—told you. — never amount to anything—_

_—piece of shit—_

A disappointed shrug and a contemptuous sneer.

_—same goddamn thing—over and over and over—fucking sick of it—_

_Haven't — learned anything by now? _

_—so fucking _stupid_ it hurts. _

_—fucking failure._

Biting words and an exhausted scowl.

—_don't get it. How — — live this way? —better if you just died— _

_—_Everyone _would be so much better off—_

A cruel, weighty sentence spoken with painful nonchalance and detachment.

_—die. Just die! Kill yourself — piece of _garbage!

—_No one needs— _

_—no one will miss— _

_—no one even_ likes—

Flashes of anger. Resentment. Remorse. Defeat.

She'd tried to forget those words and shut all of that away since her rebirth into a new life. But somehow they had a way of crawling back into her mind and circling, circling, tormenting her and reacquainting her with that old pain until self-pitying, disgusted tears burned in her eyes and apologies danced on her tongue.

Lately, they'd resurfaced, partial and disjointed, like blips of scathing commentary from an ever-changing radio station. Taunting her in her dreams, clawing at her in her nightmares.

Sometimes she woke up feeling wretched and sick to her stomach, only to empty the contents of her guts onto the floor.

Because the person_ she_ was spewing those unforgivably harmful things at was not an apathetic, dark-haired man in the image of what was once her troubled older brother in all of his hopeless glory, but a beaten-down blond who looked like he believed _every vile word_ thrown into his face.

'_This is different._ _That isn't who I am anymore. I'm not _her._ I would never treat Minato the same way—he's different. I would die before I hurt him. Don't _remind_ me of this.'_

Memories of her past life continued to squirm about, mixing and blending with the devastating deaths present in the Naruto plot, repeating, over and over, a twisted video playback caught in infinite loop, relentless.

Wispy, invasive touches pushed and prodded at her mind, sticking like static, and she shoved them back tenfold, desperate to separate herself from what she was and what she once was; what she could do and what she could not do.

Blazing hot, inverted images burned into her thoughts—a heated argument, the impulsive urge to grab the steering wheel from _him _and just _end _the never-ending cycle of helplessness and madness—the brief, fatal moment in which she lost her hold on sanity and _did_ grab it, jerked it harshly in the wrong direction—

The screech of tires the crush of metal on asphalt the taste of blood and _red_ so, _so_ much red—

Numbing pain, so agonizing in its slow burn that she couldn't even escape into her dreams—

And the voices. Those voice, blaming her, vilifying her, forsaking her, wild with bitter words and shrieks and screams—

And then, nothing. That sweet, sudden release of death and, finally, _relief._

No. Not relief. _Regret._

Because she—

'_Don't make me remember that. Get out get out get out, get out of my head. That isn't who I am anymore. I'm Namikaze Namie, now. My __past failures are in the past. I will _not_ be that—that piece of trash. Not again.'_

_It was my fault. I'm sorry. Please forgive me._

_I'll do it _right _this time._

_I promise._

* * *

The doctor flinched in surprise and briefly lost hold on his jutsu as the young girl's mind repelled his presence from within, with a stronger force than ever before. It was as if, like before, she was lashing out instead of merely buffering his attempts at digging into the annals her curious mind. That meant the push was wearing her mental state extremely thin and verging on becoming potentially fatal—her mind could break permanently if he continued, and it was such a simple thing to do.

He was lucky he'd been rebuffed, because progress was lingering within his reach once more, tempting him, taunting him—

But he still wasn't done. Not yet. Not when he was this close. There was something so familiar about the rejection.

Again, he'd seen something—or rather, felt. It was nothing he could make proper sense of, but the emotions that accompanied it were clear. Violent. Horrified. Of _him?_ Just what was lurking in her strange thoughts?

Surely, this was a breakthrough.

"She's crying?" ANBU Monkey's voice interrupted from the shadows.

Sure enough, when Inori took a second look at the young blonde's face, her pale cheeks were streaked with damp tears and her eyes were screwed up in discomfort. That was a first, but at the very least it wasn't another nosebleed. Slowly, her expression smoothed over and her face was blank in unconsciousness once more.

"She's fine." Inori muttered, closing his eyes and focusing to apply the technique once again.

* * *

_Red—so, so much red._

Only, this time it seeped from the edges of enormous, razor-sharp claws that impaled the two she cared for most in this world.

A wild, feral grin—

A wailing child—

The light of life, fading from her loved ones' eyes—

'_Not this. Anything but this.'_

Agonizing failure. A dead end.

_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—_

* * *

His search didn't last long before the familiar heat of a nosebleed invaded his senses and—sure enough—the two of them were afflicted. He refused to let this deter him and pushed forwards.

"Inori," Monkey pressed, stepping forwards silently. He wasn't only tasked as an overseer for the young girl's sake—it was also to ensure that the doctor remained within his boundaries and came to no harm himself.

The blond man's only response was to scrunch his eyes together, forcing his concentration. There was something so, deeply familiar in the girl's struggle. The way her mind reacted, rejected him…

Only, what was it…?

"_Inori._" The ANBU shinobi repeated, louder now, as he quickly moved to the man's side. Both man and child's lower faces were stained crimson; both were clearly in pain, suffering, and something was threatening to break. He set his hand firmly, urgently, upon the man's shoulder as veins protruded from his forehead due to the strain. "End it."

"S…top…" The blonde's voice came, faint and hoarse. Pained. In broken syllables.

That was the final straw.

"_Inori!_" Monkey demanded, one last warning, and when there was no response to his words he gripped the man's arm at the elbow with enough force to break it. When the other man's eyes snapped open suddenly, when his hand moved just a centimeter away from the child, he jerked the blond man to his feet and wrenched his arm behind his back to subdue him. Though, he didn't seem to be in a state to put up much of a fight, with how dazed he appeared.

"No more…_no more_. Minato…Kushina…the Kyuubi…" Namie slumped forwards in her seat, nearly bent double, and gripped at either side of her head, unaware of the verbal noose she'd dropped over her own throat.

Monkey stood at attention, casting the girl a silent gaze from behind his mask for only a fraction of a second before he released his colleague and stepped towards her, grabbing a cloth from the nearby table in one swift motion.

"We're going to see the Hokage. Clean yourself up." His words were directed at the other man, not the girl. Similar to the last time he'd treated her, he forced the girl's face up slightly, still keeping it bent towards the floor, and pinched the linen against her nose to stem the bloodflow.

"W-wait," Inori protested brokenly, regaining his senses and registering the man's words. He set a hand against his head, feeling a dull pulse of pain, and stepped towards the two others. "Wait!"

There was a new light in his eyes, growing brighter with each passing moment of clarity.

Before he could speak, however, Monkey had left the room, with Namie in his hold.

* * *

Her head was swimming. Her ears were pounding.

Something crucial had occurred, that much she could realize. Yes, probably, this was the end. Her secret was out and this was her punishment.

They would never view her as normal again—they may just decide to lock her up forever.

She'd already been overwhelmed by Obito and Kakashi's presences, troubled by her recurring night terrors, and Inori's continued observations hadn't done anything to ease her state of mind. Though, she'd kept it all to herself and allowed him to carry out his studies, if only to have it over and done with.

This time, she was thankful the session hadn't ended with her passing out again. But, in exchange, it felt like a dam had broken.

Thoughts and memories were leaking, drowning her mind. She couldn't close her eyes to shut them out, so she remained in a stupefied, semi-conscious condition, with—something dry and scratchy pressed against her face?

Ah. Another nosebleed, obviously. Someone was holding the material to her nose to keep it from dripping everywhere and making a mess of things.

That, and she was being carried.

A mild wind bit at her skin as the scenery flashed past, rooftop to rooftop—and then, when the earth stilled, all hell broke loose.

"_Namie?!_"

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Forgive the intrusion, Hokage-sama, but there has been a—development."

"Development? What's going on?"

Slowly, Namie was set down on the ground and once she made sure her feet were actually set firmly so she wouldn't sway (even though someone's hand was set heavily on her shoulder), she glanced around while keeping the discolored cloth pressed to her nose despite the fact that the bloodflow had ceased.

She'd been taken to the Hokage's office.

Minato was present, dressed in his typical chuunin attire, looking a bit worn and dirty. He must have returned from his mission early.

His eyes were wide and his jaw was set firmly—he was…angry? It was an odd, alien expression she hadn't seen him display before. The vague notion that he was vexed with her crossed her mind, yet there was no reason for this. She hadn't done anything. Had she…?

Her eyes wandered to the middle-aged Hiruzen, whose lined face was just as confounded.

Then, lastly, she glanced up at her chaperone, who was revealed to be ANBU Monkey.

She removed the cloth from her nose and opened her mouth to speak, to clarify the situation, but as soon as Minato spotted the dried blood on his sister's face, he stepped towards her—only to be halted by the ANBU's outstretched, authoritative, hand.

"Minato, I'm terribly sorry, but your report will have to be put on hold for a moment. But as you're already here…you may as well remain where you are." The Hokage recovered his composure and folded his hands together, elbows set on the desktop, as he assessed the ANBU's preamble and nodded towards his masked shinobi officer. "Speak."

Monkey angled his masked face momentarily towards the other blond in the room before clearing his throat and relaying his report. "There was another instance in which this child released information she should not—by any means—have any access to, Hokage-sama. It occurred during her current observation session with Yamanaka Inori, which resulted in her current condition."

Namie's blinked rapidly as the man's explanation seeped into her consciousness and shocked her senses into clarity as well as if an icy shot of water had doused her. "Wait, I—" Her eyes snapped towards her sibling's, wide, desperate, and her shaking hands rose from her sides to knead at the hem of her long shirt for comfort. "Brother," she began, aiming to send him away, far, _far_ away, because now—here, now, she wasn't prepared for him to hear whatever the man was about to say.

Because when he knew, he would no longer see her the same way.

The moment she opened her mouth to protest, Monkey's hand on her shoulder clamped down a fraction tighter and she knew it was a warning to keep her silence until it was her turn to talk. If she was even _given_ a turn.

Panicked tears pricked at her eyes as the man continued to speak, yet she held her tongue.

Monkey continued to speak. "It aligns with her first display from two years ago as well as her curious mention of 'dreams—'"

Her heart thundered in her chest, and she willed her breathing to remain level.

"Two years ago—" Minato attempted to speak, but was once again silenced. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"—regarding the kidnapping of Uzumaki Kushina, and now knowledge of the Kyuubi."

'_Dreams?'_ Namie's felt her legs begin to tremble, knees bumping together slightly. That had been during her stay at the hospital so many months ago. She recalled that fuzzy, fleeting feeling that someone had been surveying her—Monkey had been watching her after all.

The noose tightened.

"And your take on the matter?" Hiruzen questioned levelly, glancing carefully from the small, wide-eyed girl to the ANBU.

"I believe it runs in the vein of sensory ability, which had been considered once before. Her closeness to the jinchuuriki girl's chakra could explain her discovery of such information, however, such a skill is—"

"_Stop._" Namie was the one to interrupt this time. Her voice was loud, firm, to such an extent that all three men in the room glanced her way with raised eyebrows. The outburst was shocking enough for Monkey's grip on her arm to ease, and when it did, she pushed forwards and hurried towards Minato, clinging tightly to his flak jacket.

Her brother immediately responded by catching her safely in his arms and aiming narrowed, wary eyes at the two older shinobi—no matter how disrespectful it was to the Hokage.

"Don't say another word, _please._" Namie continued, burying her face against the rough nylon of the vest and nearly suffocating herself with the acrid smell of the dried, caked blood in her nostrils.

"Hokage-sama…what exactly is going on here?" The blond spoke carefully, with a calm, practiced tone that clashed with his fierce expression. "I would like—no, I believe I deserve a full and proper explanation."

A tense moment passed, in which the Hokage fixed his chuunin soldier with a calculating stare, and in turn a chilling intent rose from the ANBU shinobi set beside the man's desk. Before the atmosphere could shift, the elder man spoke, resigned. "Very well. It is most certainly within your rights to be enlightened."

A quick summary of the situation was provided, yet no important details were glossed over.

Each word was as sharp as a stab to the heart. All of what she'd tried to desperately to keep concealed was exposed.

Namie couldn't bring herself to look at Minato. All she'd wanted to be was a normal—maybe a slightly talented, but only because of his and Kushina's training and nothing else—child in his eyes, living blissfully in ignorance.

Now, that was all a pipe dream.

"And you condoned this…?" The boy finally spoke, fingers tensing slightly against Namie's shoulders. His voice was firm, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it. "She isn't even a shinobi yet, Hokage-sama. What right—"

Monkey was quick to cut him off, coldly. "For the safety of Konoha,_ rights_ are subject to—"

"Stop." Hiruzen demanded, holding a hand up to silence the two. "Your guardian and I have discussed this as well. The condition was set that Namikaze Namie's life would not be endangered and she would not be exposed to extensive harm. It was believed that studying her condition would also be for the benefit of her own well-being." He paused, allowing his words to settle. Then, he continued. "I understand your feelings, Minato, but I would never knowingly approve of anything that would permanently damage a child of Konoha."

Minato shook his head. "What about her previous hospitalization? It was a direct result of these 'sessions.'"

The man's expression sunk into weariness, and for the first time, he began to look his age. There was a tinge of regret in his tone when he next spoke. "Yes, indeed it was. And I should have terminated the observations then. It was a grave mistake that led to this situation."

"Yet see what has come to light because of it." Monkey supplied.

"As it is, these sessions will definitely be put to an end. However," Hiruzen spoke, slightly louder over the interjection, "if this is indeed a sensory ability that leads to the reveal of such dangerous, confidential information, that this child possesses, then appropriate measures must be taken. For her sake."

Minato remained silent, though his grip on his sister's shoulders relaxed. "Namie," he suddenly spoke, causing the child to tense up. "Do you object to that?"

Before she could respond—before she could so much as move—the door was thrown open and a frazzled Inori burst into the office. "Hokage-sama! Hokage-sama, please forgive the sudden intrusion, I am _truly _very sorry, but Namie is—there's more to it! I have new information!"

The shock of the new arrival wore off immediately, as abrupt appearances had become a fad that day. "By all means, speak." The elder Sarutobi prompted, gesturing to the blond jounin. His tone was urgent, excited, completely different from the typical, respectful behavior Hiruzen was accustomed to from the man.

The man's eyes were bright and his lips were set in a permanent—slightly mad—grin, as if he couldn't stop smiling. "It's _chakra!_" He exclaimed, holding his arms wide as he stepped past the two blond siblings and stopped a few paces ahead of them. "Saru's hypothesis was sound, too, but it's _wrong._ Namie-chan doesn't have a sensory ability—it's already been established that her intelligence levels are exceptional for her age, so it's no surprise that she's probably able to deduce situations from given information. Just write it off as that and be done with it." He waved a hand casually, dismissing something so crucial as easily as swatting away a fly. "But there's something even more remarkable! Her ability to reject the Yamanaka technique is innate—_it's her chakra! It's a technique!_"

The room fell silent. Bells chimed from the eaves of a nearby building, crows cawed in the distance.

Namie finally released her hold on her brother and looked towards the blond doctor.

"Chakra?" She repeated slowly, voice barely above a whisper as she eyed the ecstatic man.

Inori turned quickly to face her, nodding. "Chakra! It's a new technique!" He set a hand on his hip and tapped his foot against the floor distractedly, deep in thought. Then, he raised his hands and pursed his lips as he prepared to explain. "I thought there was a blocking wall within your mind, but that was part of the technique. Like a defense mechanism, you invoked the ability to cast off _my_ chakra. Internally. That's why it felt so damn _familiar._ I may be mistaken—but I don't think I am—I believe you can manifest that ability externally as well." He grinned. "With proper training, of course."

Again, his eccentric tirade brought silence as the others mulled over the new discovery.

A small smile rose to the old man's face as he breathed out a low, amused chuckle. "I don't doubt your words, Inori." His gaze turned to the ANBU. "And you?"

"…It is plausible." Monkey sighed, inclining his head slightly.

Both Namikaze siblings stood, stunned, as the adults exchanged words. Minato was the first to regain his ability to speak. "What does this mean, then? What's going to happen to Namie, Hokage-sama?" His grip on her shoulders tensed again, protectively.

Hiruzen sat straight within his plush chair as he fixed his gaze on each person within the room in turn, carefully considering his words. "The fact remains that she possesses a questionable ability. It will be dealt with appropriately. As for what manner that will be, exactly…" he trailed off, eyes wandering to the small blonde, who also stared at him fixedly, "Namikaze Namie will participate in the upcoming genin exam at the Academy in two months' time."

The noose slipped away. She could breathe again, for now.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the reads/faves/follows and especially reviews! Thanks bunches to: **milpld, 4everfictional, Counting Sinful Stars, Silver Hydrangea, Lady Syndra, Kaioo, littlemelonatplay, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, coronadomontes, Nyght elf,** **Kasuke. Hagase, Flor, Books and Death, ****RandomCitizen, **and** obsessivesyndrome.**

**Answers:** Yes, Namie is between 3-4ish years older than Obito (3 years and 4 months, to be absolutely precise, I said it was approximately 4 before) and it's the same with Rin and Kakashi since I set up the trio to be born in the same year. Team Minato's age difference from Minato will be around 10 years, that hasn't changed.

Does anyone have any requests for other Interludes? Like, for a POV of a character whose thoughts and/or reactions towards current events you'd like to see. I'll post it up along with the next update. By the way, I posted a sketch of Namie there, too, because Sethera had mentioned wanting to see. Link is in my profile! Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth).


	18. Interlude - Others

**Interlude - Others **

* * *

**Namie**

* * *

It wasn't something Namie fully understood.

Certainly, the blond Yamanaka doctor seemed confident in his conclusion, but because the matter was completely out of her hands, she was unable to confirm or deny his discovery.

It was something she'd been perfectly satisfied with leaving as a mystery until, hopefully, Inori would just give up on his observations and let her be.

But she never could be so lucky.

This "chakra ability," as he called it, was strange. Chakra in this world was still something foreign and mysterious despite her reading about it, but with the various types of strange techniques and kekkei genkai that were in existence, she supposed it wasn't farfetched to think that something of it had manifested in her mind to protect her from an unwanted mental exploration. Especially when the mental probing came too close to certain things she'd rather never remember—much less have exploited.

Once the matter had been brought to the Hokage's attention, Inori composed his thoughts and provided a proper report to defend his discovery. She wasn't certain if her involvement in Kushina's kidnapping two years ago had been simply written off, as the man advised, but he had listed several examples that supported her highly-developed intelligence and reasoning skills. ANBU Monkey had even (if grudgingly) mentioned instances of her latent talent, as well, to strengthen the blond jounin's data. Instances he shouldn't have been aware of in any other circumstances unless he'd been keeping a consistent, close watch on her.

Ultimately, the Hokage remained set in his previous decision of allowing Namie to participate in the genin exam to receive mentorship from a skilled jounin, with the added condition that ANBU-related surveillance would be put to an end. Failure was not an option to be considered.

She didn't expect to fail either way.

When all was said and done, this verdict was far from the worst case scenario. Namie had no need to object or to protest any unreasonable decisions, because it seemed the old man really did have her best interests at heart. This was the Hokage who believed in the children of Konoha, after all—though, at times she found herself doubting his sincerity, considering the way Naruto was raised.

Minato's reaction to this revelation was her greatest concern.

She'd kept so, _so_ much secret, hidden her true self—how could he trust her, now? Not only that, but how could she possibly protect him if he no longer believed in her?

Maybe—her heart twinged—maybe she'd been _wrong_ to hide it away. The big reveal had shocked him, that much she was certain of, because he'd kept his silence on the matter.

She didn't know what he felt, what he feared, whether he viewed her the same way or—

Or if she'd become a stranger.

And she wasn't sure she_ wanted _to know.

* * *

**Minato**

* * *

It was something that had been happening right under his nose.

So, _so_ close, yet he couldn't have been further from the truth.

Namie had been suffering, shouldering this all on her own, and he'd failed to notice.

No, even if he _did_ know—even if he'd discovered it beforehand—what could a chuunin like him do?

Certainly, he was talented, thanks to Jiraiya's teachings. Certainly, his performance as a shinobi was exceptional, so much so that the Hokage trusted him to execute A-rank missions and lead teams at the mere age of fifteen. But the fact remained that the Hokage's word was law and his decisions were final—no one thought to confront the man's actions because he cared for Konoha more than anyone else. And in turn, he trusted Minato to carry out his duties and do his best for the village.

He wanted to believe that Namie's treatment was for her own benefit, as well as for the good of Konoha.

Yet, if that were the case, why had he been kept in the dark?

Confrontation with Taji was inevitable.

"It was confidential—set on a need-to-know basis," the brunette woman clarified, though the regret and discomfort related to the matter was clear. It was a struggle they were all working through, he realized. But, being ANBU, Taji dealt with secretive matters more professionally than anyone.

It was difficult forgiving her, however, because she _knew; _she let it happen.

"That, and…" The next line caught him off-guard. "Namie didn't _want_ you to find out."

"She didn't want me to know?" His heart sank. Did she think he was too weak to handle it? Too weak to protect her properly? Or—was he not smart enough? It was a surprise to hear that she was most likely more intelligent than he was by a wide margin, but—could she really feel that way?

The woman sighed before a small smile graced her lips. "She didn't want you to worry about her. She tries to do everything herself, you know? She barely even talked to me about it. I don't think it was that she was keeping it from you, specifically, but that she didn't want to trouble you while you were busy with other things."

"Was she scared?"

This, Taji could not answer. There was hesitation in her eyes. For all that she knew, she'd been kept in the dark by Namie as well.

This had to change.

He wanted to be reliable; someone strong enough to help shoulder the burdens of others. Someone others would depend on in their times of need.

After all, a Hokage looked after everyone, and as he was that dream was a long way off.

What kind of Hokage could support Konoha if he couldn't even protect his own family?

* * *

**Kushina**

* * *

It wasn't something that shocked Kushina.

Namie was a strange child—that much she knew. In fact, she was convinced she would be more surprised if Namie _didn't_ know she was the Kyuubi's jinchuuriki.

The redhead played the fool quite often, but she wasn't an idiot. There was something in the little blonde's eyes that always struck her oddly—the notion that she was, perhaps, more than she seemed. That she knew more than she let on.

Still, Namie had been aware of Kushina's status for quite a while (longer even than Minato), and her behavior and treatment towards the redhead hadn't changed a single bit.

Kushina wondered why she even bothered worrying that the two siblings would view her any differently or even go so far as to revile her when they were both so accepting. It must have been in their blood.

But Minato's reaction worried her more than Namie—the girl could handle whatever was thrown her way, because she was stubborn and could endure it, much like herself. She'd said before that like attracts like, and when she and her apprentice were concerned, it was the exact same.

The girl's brother didn't understand her the way Kushina did, however. He, like the young girl, kept his feelings concealed, but he was so honest that he couldn't hide them completely.

It was clear that he felt guilty. Inadequate.

And it was her responsibility to help him understand that he was not.

* * *

**Danzo**

* * *

It was a familiar name.

He could recall, faintly, mentions of this Namikaze Namie child connected to the kidnapping of Uzumaki Kushina from two years prior when the matter was brought to the elders' attention. At the time, the incident had come across to him as a mere coincidence and the child's involvement in it as nothing of consequence.

The second time her name had come to his attention, he began to doubt his former decision to ignore her presence. Hiruzen had taken particular interest in this—outwardly—unassuming child, yet he wasn't certain as to why.

It was only when the full report on her circumstances reached his desk that he found his answer.

* * *

**Orochimaru**

* * *

It was a strange thing.

This child, young as she was, insignificant as she seemed, had been mentioned in conversation—even counting Jiraiya's strange, incoherent words during drinking sessions—far too many times to be written off as simply insignificant. There was more to this Namikaze Namie child than just an average kunoichi in the making, and he was unsure of what exactly that was.

But it was for that reason alone that the snake sannin had overlooked her. She was well-known, monitored by ANBU as well as a direct interest of his former sensei, and, most importantly, acquainted with Jiraiya.

It was too difficult an act to get close, much less to have the child captured for research purposes, without causing a great stir that had the potential to unearth more than his interests allowed.

It was no loss. There were several others to choose from.


	19. Sixteen: Rush Order, Inheritance

"I can't believe _you_ of all people get to take the exit exam early, Strawhead," the russet-haired Inuzuka groused as he balanced two huge, carefully-wrapped leg hams under his arms, only barely able to hold his balance without toppling over as he navigated the crowded market streets. His difficulty was also due to the fact that he was helping Ebisu carry a large crate filled with fresh vegetables. "I wanna take it, too."

"We know you're not exactly stupid, but you were really holding back this whole time?" Genma commented in turn, gaze traveling to the blonde girl as he shifted his end of a large burlap sack of grains, nearly causing Raidou to drop the other side.

"Yeah, why let your grades drop when you were at the head of our year for so long?" Aoba huffed, setting his hands behind his head—he was the only one among them spared from the heavy lifting, though a light bag filled with powdered vitamins hung from one of his arms. "I always thought it was some civilian kid that ended up dropping off, but it was definitely you, right, Namie?"

Namie hummed as she tossed a canister of powdered vitamins from one hand to the other, musing over the fact that she'd finally gotten her classmates to drop the honorifics from her name. "No comment." Over one shoulder, wrapped in a make-shift sling, was another hefty slab of wrapped, raw meat. Hanging from the crook of her left arm was a sack filled with the vegetables that wouldn't fit in the crate.

Today had been a day where the group of classmates (sans Suzume, who was preoccupied with extra-credit studies, and Toriichi, who was away visiting family) met up at the Inuzuka compound for training practice, but it was such a muggy and mild day that barely any progress was made and most of the time was spent lounging around and chatting idly. Inuzuka Tsume had come across this laid-back scene and immediately ordered the Academy kids to go fetch ingredients for the clan's homemade dog food in the market since they had nothing productive to do. It turned out the future Inuzuka matron had much less tolerance for laziness than Kushina did.

It was no mystery why Kiba was terrified of his mom.

"'_No comment,_'" Aoba mocked, sighing. "I work my ass off to stay at the top and you act like it's no big deal. I don't get you."

Namie's eyes narrowed. "Just be happy I don't knock you down a few rankings for your attitude, Glasses. It would be a nice parting gift, right?"

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't use that nickname! I never know if you're talking about me or him." The other bespectacled boy craned his neck over his shoulder and glared at the blonde as he griped.

"Whatever. You guys all get to take the genin exam next year anyway so it's not that much earlier." She shrugged. "It's not like I want to. I thought for sure I'd be in a team with two of you guys. Or even with Suzu-chan…"

"Pff, no one wants you as a teammate anyways. You can't get along with anyone!" Toboe scoffed, grinning. "I dunno about my team, but I definitely want Genma on it." He turned to the brunet.

Namie scowled. "I dunno why _you're_ talking. I don't want you on my team, either."

"I heard they pair the ones with the highest grades with the ones who get the lowest grades on the test. That, and there's usually a kunoichi placed in, but since you and Suzume-chan are the only girls in our class, that's not really possible..." Genma explained as he chewed thoughtfully on a dango skewer. He cracked a slight grin as he caught the Inuzuka's eye. "Which means you'd probably be teamed up with Aoba, Toboe."

Toboe's grin dropped as he considered the words. "H-hey! What's that supposed to mean—I'm not dumb! I'm _third_ from the bottom!"

Ebisu sniggered as he shot the Inuzuka a sly grin. "You're lucky Toriichi's taking last place because otherwise you'd be second to last."

"Anyway, you'll tell us what the exam's like, right?" Raidou blinked at the blonde. "For future reference and all."

"Sure. It's probably just some kind of written test." That and a practical exam, if the genin exam from the series was anything to go by. She couldn't be certain, but the class had been learning applicable techniques already, so it would be strange if such a topic didn't crop up during a qualifying exam. "But I wonder what kind of teammates I'll be set up with. I don't know anyone from the year above."

Genma hummed. "Far as I know, there's a couple of Uchihas, a Hyuuga, two Naras, a few civilian kids, and a couple others from clanless shinobi families."

"Ah!" Aoba suddenly cried out, whirling to face the blonde, "I just remembered—the White Fang's kid is apparently taking the exam, too!"

Namie's grip on the container slipped and it fumbled from her hands. "No—no way? He's only like, five, if he barely started in the spring."

'_But, wait—he _did_ graduate really young, didn't he?'_

A cold sweat broke out across her skin.

The other child with glasses supplied confirmation. "He's a genuine prodigy. There's nothing more they can teach him, apparently."

"Hmm. Wonder what it would be like to have _him_ in a team. Think that'll happen?" Raidou questioned.

"No way! With the White Fang as a dad, what did you expect?" Toboe exclaimed at the same time. "Sheesh, luckyyy…"

No. It was _far_ from lucky.

If it somehow happened that he became her teammate—Hatake Kakashi or _not_—he was still a _kid_ and it would be beyond embarrassing to be outshined by someone four years her junior.

"I don't think so." She scoffed.

* * *

"This is a pain…" Namie muttered, concentration faltering as she attempted to construct an algorithm relevant to the task at hand—which was incredibly basic, and involved storing a stack of shuriken into a scroll to be extracted during combat. She was loathe to fail, because she was undertaking this task in order to help out Minato. He was listed to go on a mission in the afternoon and she'd insisted on helping him prepare his supplies before he set off with his team. She was also pressed for time, because the genin exam was to take place that afternoon as well.

However, the art of sealing proved to be more of a challenge than the blonde expected—this activity had completely taken over her morning and she wasn't fond of it _at all._ The most she could liken it to was the practice of computer programming, which she was just as adverse to because if there was one, tiny little mistake, and it could all go to shit and refuse to work properly until the issue was resolved.

She didn't particularly have the patience for that.

In fuinjutsu, the written construct and user's chakra had to be in perfect sync, or else the sealing would fail. Not only that, but she had to involve specific parameters and weave them into the technique. It was an incredibly broad and flexible subject, but because of this, it was all the more difficult to hone in on the necessary details. Currently, her seal consisted of the following instructions scrawled messily in hiragana and kanji: _Seal type: weapons storage; Weapons: shuriken; Amount: six; Security: release upon reception of user's chakra. _

"Seal." Speaking wasn't necessary, but she'd found it helped her concentration.

After pressing her hand down, she opened her eyes and gazed at the partially-unrolled scroll set on the grass before her, and sighed in frustration when it remained blank. Once more, she assumed a focused pose and continued seeking the proper format. _Seal type: storage. Store: weapons, shuriken. Six in total. Security: Release upon reception of user's chakra._

"Seal!"

Again, she slammed her hand against the paper—and was half-pleased, half-relieved, to see a bold ink sigil containing her specified parameters, with the characters for "shuriken," present in the middle. "It's a little messy, but…it works."

They key to sealing—or so she understood, from consulting Kushina's family guide on the matter—was to have a clear list of attributes in mind, arranged in such a way that the seal's purpose was apparent. Beginners were to be extremely specific, spelling out every detail, but as users gained proficiency, they could utilize shorthand methods, like using acronyms in place of fully written words—so long as the intent remained the same. There were also basic formulations to follow, which could be altered and built upon when skill was accumulated.

It was an art reliant upon mental fortitude and aptitude—the more focused and intelligent the caster was, the more effective the resulting seal.

And she didn't think she had the ability for it beyond the basics. Kushina would probably be upset, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. It was a confusing subject that didn't factor into her future plans.

"Now, to test it." She touched her fingers to the black sigil, and just as soon as she'd sparked a bit of her chakra, half a dozen shuriken materialized. With a satisfied smile, she unrolled the scroll further and moved on to storing three more stacks of shuriken.

Once her target task was complete and her seals were tested, the small blonde girl gathered her materials and hurried towards the main gate, where her brother's team would depart.

"Brother!" Namie called, waving towards the tall blond chuunin who was conversing with a familiar redhead—but she was sure Kushina wasn't on the mission roster for this particular expedition. Probably, she was only there to send him off.

Kushina was the first to spot the small blonde. "Namie-chan! You're finally done?" Her tone was teasing and she cracked an amused grin. She'd been the one to suggest that Namie help store Minato's weapons for practice.

Namie suspected she only pushed the task onto her in order to have more time to spend with her boyfriend.

"I am." She huffed, leaning over slightly to catch her breath.

"Lemme check 'em," the redhead hummed, taking the two scrolls from her trainee to unroll them and glance over the contents.

"Namie," Minato greeted, somewhat hesitantly. He offered a smile, but it quickly faded as he took notice of the time. "Shouldn't you be at the Academy already? Your exam starts soon!"

Kushina chuckled. "She's plenty prepared, Minato, even if she shows up late she'll pass for sure. I mean, how many kids her age know even a little fuinjutsu?"

"True, but…" His gaze traveled to the young girl thoughtfully.

"I still have ten minutes!" Namie reassured her sibling, looking to her feet to avoid his stare.

Nothing had outwardly changed between them since Minato had been informed of her "advanced intelligence" and whatnot, yet there was still the lingering fear that he perceived her differently. That he thought of her as the stranger she really was after all of these years.

Yet, he hadn't brought up the issue since the time of the incident. Possibly because of his busy schedule filled with missions and more training with Jiraiya. It had been a while since the two were able to have a proper conversation.

Strangely enough, Taji hadn't brought up the issue either. Naturally, she'd been updated on the situation as well, once she'd returned from her own duties.

It was almost as if it had all been a dream.

Were they treating it this way for her own sake…? Whatever the case, she willingly looked the other way and went along with it. What better way was there to avoid something than to pretend it hadn't even happened?

"Looks good. Pretty basic, but usable." Kushina rolled the scrolls up and handed them off to Minato before turning to the other blonde. "Now go and kick everyone's butts in the exam so you can brag about how well I've taught you, 'ttebane!" She punched her fist into the air with a grin.

Namie glanced towards her hot-blooded mentor with a sheepish grin of her own. "Right, Kushina-nee-chan. I don't plan on doing anything less."

She nearly started when a hand dropped gently atop her shoulder. "Good luck on the exam, Namie," came her brother's gentle words of encouragement.

Her eyes darted up to his face to study his expression. He meant every word he said.

The urge to embrace him seized her for a brief moment, but at the last second she held back. Instead, she nodded vigorously. "I'll do my best!"

* * *

The first part of the genin exam was beyond easy.

As expected, it consisted of a written comprehensive test over the various materials her classes had covered, plus a practical that included her basic competence of hand seals and E-rank techniques, chakra usage, and weapons proficiency. There were some topics her knowledge was vague on and she wouldn't have known how to answer at all had she not received training from both Minato and Kushina beforehand, but otherwise she passed with no issues and received her hitai-ate with praise from Yuuichi-sensei.

Yes, that had been the easy part—returning to discover her team placement to complete the second secret part was _not._

The classroom buzzed with the excited chattering of her twenty fellow newly-declared genin, yet out of all the people she could have sat beside, the only free seat was at the end of the front row, next to none other than a certain little silver-haired jerk.

She briefly wondered if he was being shunned for being such an outlier among the average group. Most of the other genin were ten years old, maybe even eleven, so she and the heir of the White Fang were the youngest among them at ages nine and five respectively.

'_Ah. So he passed after all. Ridiculous kid.'_ She mused, eyeballing him blandly as she dropped down onto the chair. He already donned his navy-banded forehead protector, though it seemed slightly too big for him as it hung a bit unevenly above his lazily-lidded eyes. She wondered if hers looked just as silly.

"Yo. Girl who has fleas, right?" His cool gaze flicked to her hair as he spoke.

Namie nearly bit her tongue as an unpleasant, mortified heat warmed her face. Of all the things the brat could remember, he remembered _that?_ No, rather, he was already looking to give her a hard time, if the sly glint in his eyes was anything to go by. All the more reason to avoid wanting him on her team.

"You _shut up_. Brat," she settled for grumbling, glancing around to make sure none of the others heard his jeer. '_He sounds so dumb. His voice is so tiny and high-pitched. I can't believe this kid really grows up into someone so cool.'_ Being teased by her classmates was one thing—being mocked by an arrogant, young Hatake Kakashi was another entirely. _'But, still. This is_ the_ Kakashi. Right here, right beside me. I wonder how I could change things if I can manage to influence him? Then, maybe Obito wouldn't wind up crushed beneath a boulder. Maybe Rin would survive.' _However, those events were still quite a ways off. That, and she couldn't act rashly.

Upon surveying the others who sat nearby, who were completely absorbed in their own conversations and cheer, wondering who among them would be paired up with who, she gradually came to realize that the thought they were being ignored was not far off the mark. Everyone else seemed to be getting along well, yet none had made a move to speak with either of the younger genin. She didn't mind it at all herself, but the fact that Kakashi—a kid, an impressionable, vulnerable kid, regardless of how he acted—was being avoided lit a spark of indignation in her heart.

The memory of her encounter with Obito floated to the forefront of her mind. He'd gone along with older children's plans to gain their approval; their friendship. Yet, in the end they'd abandoned him and left him to fend for himself against her retaliation.

She didn't pity him—no, her feelings towards the young Uchiha were still muddled and unclear.

Yet she couldn't shake the thought that, perhaps, he and Kakashi weren't so different.

"Don't think too hard. You look like you're about to pass out." Kakashi commented dryly as he leaned his chin on his palm, not bothering to look the blonde's way this time. "They are ignoring us, though."

"Ah…" Namie responded unintelligently, unable to snap back a retort immediately. Before she could, however, Taro-sensei, the round-bodied and kindly, ever-grinning chuunin who had once taught her mathematics and weapons courses, entered the room with purpose and cleared his throat loudly to gain the attention of the students and silence the room.

"Congratulations on becoming genin, everyone! A total of twenty-one of you have passed—a nice turnout, if I don't say so myself—which means you will be divided up into seven cells of three. Your teams will be numbered from one to seven and you will also be assigned a jounin instructor to help further your growth as young shinobi of Konohagakure. Any questions?" He was met with the silent, beaming faces of excited children only. "Well then. Without further ado, Team One: Ueno Kasuga, Hatake Kakashi—"

Namie snapped to attention, crossed her fingers and prayed the third name was far from her own—

"—and Namikaze Namie. Your instructor will be Sarutobi Hiroto. Please file out into the hallway to meet your jounin sensei and best of luck continuing with your training." The man smiled, waving the trio forwards.

Right off the bat and no luck whatsoever.

'_Well, he ends up on Team Minato eventually so we won't be teammates forever. But for now he'll be close, so I can work with this. As for the other…Ueno Kasuga?'_

Namie waited a moment, scanning the room for the third teammate to gauge his value. A young, gangly boy with orange hair pulled back into a low ponytail moved quickly to his feet and hurried to the door from the back row of students before glancing over his shoulder timidly to seek out his teammates. Definitely the nervous type. Probably a low scorer, too, since she was certain either she or Kakashi received the highest test grades among the group.

Her observation came to an abrupt end when her shoulder was met with a light shove. "Move."

"I'm _going_," Namie snapped back without even gracing the small boy with a glare as she rose to her feet.

Boy, were they going to get along _wonderfully._

On their way out the door, a slight scuffle broke out because they were both too proud to allow the other past the threshold first. It ended as quickly as it began with Namie exiting first but stumbling towards the nearby wall.

However, a firm grip on her shoulders—a very _familiar_ grip—prevented her from smacking her nose against the wooden surface.

"Aren't you all just…lovely," came a cool, dry voice brimming with sarcasm.

Her heart missed a beat. The voice was also one she'd heard before.

"Se-sensei? Hiroto-sensei?" Kasuga questioned quietly.

Namie tensed as she turned to observe the man and her brow furrowed as she caught sight of the handsome ANBU she'd once met on the streets. Of course, his tattoo was covered since he now donned the dark, standard-issue jounin uniform, but his face was much the same.

Still, aside from that, she was certain she'd met him elsewhere.

"Sarutobi Hiroto." The dark-haired man confirmed his identity with an indifferent nod and sardonic, two-finger salute. "And you three…"

Sarutobi—

Sarutobi?

_Saru?_

It clicked.

He was, and there was very small doubt in her mind, the ANBU Monkey who had overseen her appointments with Yamanaka Inori.

Distaste immediately coursed through her and, as she caught her new sensei's eye, she had a feeling the sentiment was mutual. That look wasn't only recognition; it was a warning.

This was no coincidence.

"Ueno Kasuga, Hatake Kakashi, and Namikaze Namie." He ticked off their names, glancing from each in turn and placing their identities by process of elimination. _Everyone_ knew the White Fang and his son, after all, and he was already acquainted with Namie, so the third was obvious. "Walk."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order—he was gruff and straight to the point as ever.

Their small procession continued on past the school grounds and came to a stop on the deserted, grassy embankment of a nearby canal.

"Sit."

_'He treats us like goddamn dogs,'_ Namie considered, eyeing him strangely.

Nevertheless, the three sat while their sensei remained standing. He straightened the thin file he kept under his arm with purpose and skimmed over the contents before shifting his inscrutable gaze to the students.

"Kasuga-kun." The boy in question jumped slightly upon being addressed and glanced meekly at the older man, who continued without interruption. "Excels with planning and strategy, weak with combat. Familiar with medical techniques. Antisocial." His dark eyes shifted to the youngest of the group, who looked completely unperturbed. "Kakashi-kun: Proficient in all areas. Quick to adapt. Young, but extremely capable. Lone wolf type."

Namie frowned as his cold, calculating gaze locked on her. She shifted awkwardly. _'I don't know why I ever thought this jerk was cute. So done with that.'_

"Namie-chan."

_Oh_, she was just so _sure_ he took some twisted pleasure in using that honorific.

"Specializes in taijutsu. Also well-balanced in most areas, save for genjutsu. Capable, but tends to hold back. Doesn't work well with others." After looking over the three genin once more, he shut the file and crossed his arms. "You three ranked highest in the exit exam, yet there's something vital you all lack, so don't get ahead of yourselves—you're not full genin yet. I'm here to issue you one final test and, depending on how you perform, you may be sent back to the Academy. Most of your classmates will be sent back as well, and, to be perfectly honest, there's a high chance that's where all of you will end up."

'_This guy doesn't sugar-coat anything.'_ The blonde genin grimaced inwardly as she observed the straight-backed jounin before eyeing her teammates.

Kasuga seemed eager to speak, but simultaneously too intimidated by the man to do so.

"What kind of test?" Kakashi questioned, still appearing to be the least affected by the older man's strict presence and discouraging words. Either that, or his self-confidence was remarkable.

"You're wise to ask." Hiroto ran a hand through his hair before smiling—it was a small smile, barely even there, but a smile nonetheless. And, boy, did it scream _danger._ "My expectations for the three of you are extremely high, so I don't intend to hold back. Some may consider my methods to be…unorthodox... however, I believe it will be best to test your capabilities. Between the time we part ways and 0600 hours tomorrow, at an indeterminable time, each of you will be picked up to partake in this test. Your guardians have already been informed of this. Oh, and don't bother keeping an eye out or trying to be prepared—it won't help you." He shrugged lightly before turning to walk away. "Well then."

"Wait—that's it?" Namie piped up, unable to keep her silence in the face of such an absurd explanation. What kind of pass-fail test _was_ this? What about the _bell test?_

"That's it," Hiroto returned without breaking his stride.

* * *

"Ridiculous. This is such a joke!" Namie grumbled to herself as she stomped up the stairs to her apartment—doing her best to fight the lingering paranoia her new sensei's words had plagued her with. From what she understood, she and her teammates were going to be ambushed at a random time to be taken to his crazy exam and there wasn't a thing they could do about it. It was a hostage situation.

"I'm home," she called to the empty home, long-accustomed to the periodical absences of her brother and guardian. Minato hadn't yet returned from his mission, and Taji was away on ANBU business again—though, she had been around to congratulate Namie on passing the first portion of the exam the day before.

Her foot bumped a small box that had been shoved through the mail delivery slot on the door. By the messy, rushed wrapping job it was decorated with, she knew it was from her hotheaded mentor.

_CONGRATULATIONS ON PASSING,_ it read in large, bold scrawl.

'_If I _do_ pass…'_ She thought grumpily while scratching at the thin paper until it peeled away from the box. The gift contained a set of blank tags—no doubt so she could fill them out with her own seals. Likely, they would remain blank, but the thought was received.

Similar to that present, there was another wrapped bundle sitting atop the kitchen table, accompanied by a written note.

_Congratulations on becoming a genin! I'm so, so very proud of you, Namie. And I'm also sorry I couldn't be there in person to give you this, but it took a while to find again. There are two things here—one for you, and one for Minato. I wanted to give them to the two of you once you both became official shinobi, and it looks like this is the day._

_The smaller one is for you, Namie—it's your mother's hawk-summoning contract scroll. She used them for scouting, and they were well-acquainted, so they should take well to you, too. Sign your name when you're ready, and use it as you see fit, if you even choose to. If you want, I'll help you with it when I return. _

_The other one is for you, Minato—your father's specialized kunai. They're heavier than typical kunai, because he implemented them in his traps and the weight was crucial to the design. But they function as normal kunai, as well. The set is incomplete, but use them however you see fit. _

_I'm so proud of the both of you. More than you could know._

_Best wishes, _

_Taji_

A wry smirk crossed her face at the business-like tone of the letter. "Best wishes?" It was still too forward for the woman to use kinder words like the "love" compliment she was still struggling with. It caught her up each and every time she attempted to verbalize it, too.

Something distracted her from that line of thought.

_'Special kunai? Is it—?'_ Namie glanced to the wrapped package and considered peeking in before she could contain her curiosity. It could wait, but, probably, it was exactly as she suspected. Those "specialized kunai" were the ones Minato would later incorporate into his Hiraishin technique.

As for the summon scroll…

Her eyes studied the small item, expression unreadable.

However, before she could consider it further, a sharp pain was dealt to the nape of her neck and her world was thrown into black.

* * *

**A/N: Double update. Be sure to read the interlude, too. **Hopefully the interlude answered any questions/cleared things up from the previous chapter.

Thanks so, so much for reads/faves/follows! And the feedback on chapter 15 was just wonderful, big thanks to: **Redleafs16, milpld, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Kaioo, Counting Sinful Stars, Hmmm, Abundant E, gunslayer12, MythologyGirl, coronadomontes, Littlebirdd, KiyomiShizuru, Bananarock509, Chocogirl24, Kasuke. Hagase, Deluxemclovin, strength to stand **(thanks so much for the link)**, littlemelonatplay,** and** Flor.**

Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth).

Oh, I finally put up a poll about who you readers think Namie should be paired with in the future (if anyone) since I know some of you are pretty invested in that kind of thing. Check it out on my profile. It'll be up for quite a while so feel free to take your time and think about it.


	20. Seventeen: Darkness, Test

Namie woke with a start.

Dark. It was dark.

Left, right, up, down—no matter where her eyes darted, only blackness greeted her and her eyes were unable to adjust due to the lack of any sliver of light.

The scent of damp earth filled her nose.

She reached for her kunai holster to arm herself, only to find it was absent. All weapons had been removed.

Next, she explored her immediate surroundings. Loose soil sifted between her bandage-wrapped fingers as she clenched at the ground, at the walls, never once moving from her spot.

Her heart pounded.

She could hear her own breathing, somewhat raspy and quick, and did her best to calm down before panic could further grip her conscience.

Deep in her heart, she knew this was the result of her sensei's warning—or rather, she _hoped._ What if it wasn't? What if she'd been captured by the very people she'd been doing her best to avoid?

It could have been Danzo's doing.

Or, worse, Orochimaru had finally caught wind of her existence and she'd belatedly piqued his interest.

But, no—if either of those _were_ the case, surely she would be tied up as well. As it was, her limbs were free.

However, there was also the possibility she'd been thrown into a dungeon.

'_No. This is the test. It's that damn Monkey's test. This darkness is part of it. I'm not a prisoner and there's nothing to be afraid of. He did say we would be picked off randomly—though he didn't say a thing about being _knocked out_. Still, it's part of the test.'_ She breathed deeply and assured herself of this, mustering up the courage to further explore the earthy cavern she currently occupied.

A soft clinking met her ears when she crawled forwards and something heavy pulled at her neck. It was a chain. She gripped it with her fingertips and searched its length before finding a heavy metal object hanging from one end.

'_A key…I have a key. No one in their right mind would give me a _key_ if I was being held prisoner,'_ Namie mused as she removed the chain from her person and observed the item with touch alone, trying to determine its purpose. _'It goes to a lock, obviously. But it's not like I can see it.'_ With a sigh, she dropped the key and pressed her hands to her face, falling into deep thought to grasp the situation.

She was alone. But, because this was a team test—she was sure of it now that she was in possession of a key—her teammates couldn't be far away. There was an opening directly in front of her, as she'd felt the empty, looming darkness when her hands had broken away from the walls, yet she wasn't willing to explore the tunnel further without some source of light.

It was much too dangerous.

'_What's Monkey's objective, then?'_ she wondered, reaching for the key again and rolling the cool metal between her fingers before bringing her knees to her chest and holding it, dangling, in one of her hands. _'Most of the pass-fail tests involve team work in some respect. Team work is an important aspect of shinobi life, I know that much. Then, how is separating us all a way to reach that end?'_

It was a pain, being forced to rely on others. She liked to be the one in charge; the one in control. Because she was older; she knew better. She could complete class projects in a third of the time it would take a group, she preferred training on her own or with family than with classmates at the Academy, and, ultimately, with all that she currently knew, she was forced to act independently regardless.

'_He knows this,'_ she realized. _'He knows I wouldn't hesitate to try and complete this test on my own, so he put me at a disadvantage. It's probably better to just sit here until Kakashi or that Ueno kid comes around. _Someone's _going to need this key.'_

And so, she waited.

* * *

Ueno Kasuga awoke abruptly, though the quickness of the action left him with a bleary mind. He couldn't recall exactly what he'd been doing before winding up—well—wherever he was now.

He never made it home that night—of that much he was certain. Only, had he been on his way home from his father's bathhouse, or had he been in the middle of cleaning the baths…?

The boy slowly pushed himself up and rubbed at his green eyes before noticing the small, burning candle set on a small, earthen soil ledge just a few feet from where he'd been lying. It didn't illuminate the darkness well, but from what he could see now, he was surrounded by dirt. He silently approached the candle, dragging his weary body forwards, and gripped the candle with a careful hand.

It was a common, eggshell white candle (not unlike the kind his mother used frequently) with a base narrow enough that his entire hand could encompass the circumference, and a thin, waxed wick. It was not a slow-burning type and already half of its height had diminished, if his memory of the several stacks of new candles in the family room didn't fail him, and it wouldn't be long until it burnt out completely.

With new resolve, the orange-haired genin held the candle out and glanced around to assess his predicament.

He found himself in a hollowed-out cavity somewhere within the earth—a chamber that was scarcely large enough for him to stand at his full height without bumping the ceiling.

His weapons, personal belongings and whatever else he'd had on his person before ending up here were missing.

'_Ah, this is…this is Hiroto-sensei's secret exam?'_ Kasuga wondered, too wary to speak the thoughts aloud. In any case, he was certain none would hear him; he was alone. _'But Kakashi-kun and Namie-chan should be nearby. This is a team test.'_

The boy continued forwards, finding the opening indent to a slightly-smaller dirt tunnel that would lead him out. If he entered, he would be forced to crouch and crawl with one hand while holding the candle outwards to light his path.

He wasn't quite certain what he would encounter.

'…_I'm scared.'_

But, at the very least, he wouldn't be in the dark.

* * *

When Hiroto had said his students would be "picked up" at some random time for their pass-fail test, Kakashi didn't expect that it would involve being knocked unconscious and dragged to some underground cavern—not to mention waking with his hands shackled behind his back.

His new sensei certainly did have high expectations. They were young, and while the silver-haired boy believed himself quite capable of overcoming this situation, he doubted the same for the other two on his team.

But even so, he'd been stripped of his kunai holster, tool pouch, and any other potential weapons—or even anything _useful_—he suspected, and the only thing left marking him as a shinobi was his forehead protector. There was no way he could maneuver his way out of the bindings and, to add to that, his entire surroundings were stark black.

Only the smell of dank earth alerted him of his predicament. He pulled his face away from the musty ground, thankful for his mask, and shifted into a sitting position against one of the dirt walls. He felt the earth behind him with his fingertips, noting that it was indeed freshly disturbed. Probably, Hiroto had dug the caverns with an earth-style jutsu, creating a testing field specifically for his team.

On that note, he wondered how the other two genin were faring. Were they gifted with the same treatment? No. It was doubtful—if that were the case, then none of them would manage navigating the dark passageways and they would certainly all fail. Because, as this situation was set up, it was probable one of the others would arrive to help free him of the shackles.

It was a team exam, after all. Team work was expected. It was an apparent jab from the instructor that they were all problem children who had difficulty interacting with others—he remembered that clearly. The medic boy was "antisocial," he was a "lone wolf" and the flea-girl didn't "work well with others."

He knew from speaking with his father that team work was a crucial component which made shinobi units operate smoothly.

Then, assuming that was the aim, Kakashi and his team were soon to be reunited.

Only, was it his responsibility to find them, or was it up to them to find him?

Not only that, but with the ever-prevalent darkness, he wasn't completely confident that he was safe where he was.

* * *

Kasuga made his way through the tunnel—and it was only a single tunnel, without a branch-off yet—as quickly as his crouch-crawl would allow, mindful of the candle's flame.

He estimated the remaining time to be anywhere between twenty minutes and half an hour. Rather, to be absolutely certain time wouldn't run out, fifteen was probably best to assume. So, either Hiroto-sensei's exam was timed, or when he met with another teammate, they would also have a candle.

'_No.'_ He suddenly realized the flaw in that thought. If _they _had candles, they would also be on the move. Yet, if he was the one with the candle—the light—then he was necessary. Because his cave had been set at the end of this current pathway and he'd already traveled quite a few meters without seeing any other paths. No one would have thought to head his way, much less move throughout the area, if they were in the dark.

The hand he'd been running along the wall suddenly dipped into empty space—finally, a new path. He held the candle forward and carefully peeked around the corner, holding his breath, then sighed in relief when he spotted a familiar face.

"Ah, Kakashi-kun."

The younger boy blinked. His eyes adjusting to the dull light, then flicked around to assess the area and confirm that his previous assumptions had been correct. "So, you're the first one here," he returned, moving to his feet once he was certain his head wouldn't hit the ceiling. "You don't happen to have a key or something, do you?"

"K-key?" The medic returned, eyebrows furrowing from both confusion and the regret that he lacked said object.

"Nevermind."

"Oh, but—there's a note pinned to your shirt." Kasuga pointed out, holding the candle forwards as he approached his teammate. After a moment, it occurred to him that Kakashi was unable to use his hands, the purpose of the key clicked, and he silently reached out to take the folded square of paper. He took a moment to shake it out from its compressed state since his other hand was occupied with the candle, and observed it a moment before speaking. "It's a map." He turned it to face the other boy.

"Mission objective: locate the item in the circled location and return it to your sensei on the surface." The silver-haired boy recited, eyes tracing the map until a small area circled in bold, black ink appeared in his sight.

Kasuga sighed. "This is a timed mission, then. This candle doesn't have long, and I…I think it's probably the only one we have."

"Sounds about right," Kakashi agreed. "How much longer?"

"Fifteen minutes at best. And Namie-chan probably has the key you need." He traced his finger along one of the routes. "We're around here. There's only one path this way, so we'll reach her location soon." The orange hair boy did his best to fold the map up before storing it away inside his shirt. "Will you have trouble moving? The tunnels are low, and narrow."

The other boy shrugged. "I don't have a choice, so I'll manage."

"Then, umm, let's go." Kasuga nodded, turning to lead the way with the light.

* * *

Namie held her breath when a soft, glowing light breached the darkness. "Kasuga-kun? Kakashi-kun?" she questioned, voice barely above a whisper, while clutching the key between her hands and shifting slightly.

The light grew brighter, and a candle slowly moved her way. A second later, a half-illuminated, familiar face appeared. "Namie-chan," the medic boy greeted shortly, nodding, before moving closer. There was some shuffling behind him, and then the silver-haired boy appeared as well.

"Don't tell me: you need the key?" the girl took a moment to smirk, noting the way his arms were placed awkwardly behind his back. He didn't even bother to respond—only turned around to show the shackles. "Right, right," she muttered, moving to his side to unlock them. There would be time to tease him later.

Kasuga took a deep breath as he watched his teammates. "Namie-chan, we have a map and a mission objective, but the light won't last much longer. A little more than ten minutes from now, it will probably go out."

"Just 'Namie' is fine." She moved back and pocketed the key—just in case—as the metal handcuffs dropped to the ground and freed the younger boy. She then eyed the orange-haired genin appraisingly, realizing he wasn't as useless as she'd first thought.

Well, their instructor _did_ say they were the students who scored the highest in the genin exam. "Alright, so what's the objective?"

Kasuga quickly relayed the situation and, once he was done, brought out the map and unfolded it along the ground.

"This is where we are, now," he pointed out, tapping an area with three rounded chambers along a single tunnel. "A-and I measured the distance between here and here," he tapped the cave at the end of the path and the one in the middle. "As fifteen meters."

"So, going by that, the target area is pretty far away. Almost thirty meters total, assuming it's not a trick." Kakashi approximately measured the distance along the turns as he knelt beside his teammates.

"How long did it take you to travel fifteen meters?" Namie asked Kasuga.

"Not long. Maybe—maybe three minutes. And that was alone." His voice was certain, though the realization made him worry. "The distance to the exit from the target area is a little over double that. And there's a lot of turns."

Namie shook her head. "At five meters per minute at best—maybe longer, while we move together—we won't even make it anywhere near the exit before the candle snuffs."

"Plus, we don't know if there are traps set up anywhere," Kakashi added.

"Then, we'll handle that after we pick up the target item. That's the most important part of this test, right?" The blonde glanced at the two other genin, noting how young they looked in the mellow candlelight.

Children. They were just children—as was she, to an extent—not even teenagers, yet here they were, planning and speaking as if they were professional ninja. Acting as if they were in danger and doing their best to escape that threat, all the while working towards accomplishing a shared goal. This was the difference between Academy lessons, hypothetical thinking and working from textbooks, and putting it all to use in the field. No matter the age, once a child became a genin, they were expected to act as if they were adults.

Such was the life of a shinobi.

Namie nodded to herself. "We'll have just enough light to reach the area and figure out what we'll do to get out." The beginnings of a plan were already working within her mind.

"Then, let's not waste any more time."

If not for the current pressing matter, Namie would have taken a moment to call the silver-haired boy a brat.

"Right, let's go," Kasuga intervened, sensing the animosity rising between the two. He had been present to witness their little battle to be the first one out of the door when they were being assigned teams, after all. It was a miracle nothing else had happened yet.

"Wait," Namie called. The orange-haired boy turned. "Y'know, a lot of hot wax has piled up on that hand of yours. Do you want me to lead this time?" He looked down to see the several layers of cooled, opaque wax coating the hand that held the candle. The ting of heat hadn't even occurred to him.

"Oh, um, sure. Here's the map, too." Kasuga handed the candle over to Namie, whose hands were wrapped in bandages and much more suited to carrying something potentially painful, and followed it with the map.

"Wait," Kakashi intervened, taking the map and studying the directions.

Namie paused, eyeing him curiously, before he glanced up at her and Kasuga in turn.

"It will be faster if someone tells you which way to go."

Kasuga hummed in agreement. "Kakashi-kun is right, N-Namie. It's too hard holding both the candle and the map at once."

"And just how are you gonna read it? I'll have the light," she pointed out.

At this, the silver-haired Hatake adopted a smug glint in his eyes. "I'll memorize it."

'_Ah. I wonder if there's more to the "copy" part of "Copy Nin" than just the Sharingan—?'_ Namie mused, growing irritable the longer she was exposed to that smarmy, round-faced expression. "Good memory…?" she voiced aloud, eyes flashing. That meshed well with her contingency plan, if it was true.

"The best in my class. Probably better than yours, too." Even his tone was arrogant.

"You little—"

"Guys, please—" Kasuga attempted to ease them, smiling uneasily, but Kakashi cut the both of them off before they could finish.

"Done. Let's get going, already. Keep going forward until you reach the first split and turn left," Kakashi reported, folding the map and glancing pointedly at the blonde.

"…Right." Namie muttered quietly, facing forward and holding the light ahead as she moved.

"I'll measure the distance so we know when we're close." Kasuga allowed Kakashi to follow second, and he pulled up the rear since the dirt channels were too narrow for anything but single-file formation.

The other boy spoke. "Tell us if the candle goes out sooner than expected."

The journey to the target chamber was uneventful, but went more smoothly than they could have hoped. The three genin huddled around the entrance to the small chamber, not unlike the ones they'd been in previously, and examined the pathway quietly. Namie held the light forwards cautiously, fearful of traps.

"Ah, there it is. A box!" Kasuga made to moved towards it, but Kakashi spoke up quickly.

"Wait. This is too easy. Knowing that man, something about it is probably rigged."

The girl stretched her arm out a bit further to illuminate the area. "Hate to say it, but he's right. There's no way that guy would just let us in and out so easy if this is a mission simulation. And we don't have much longer." Her gaze drifted to the ever-shrinking stump of the wax candle and her brow furrowed.

"Maybe three…two minutes," Kasuga noted grimly. "It's burning faster."

Something flashed oddly in the darkness, near the ground.

"It's wire," Kakashi determined.

"A-a wire trap? In the _dark?_" Kasuga stammered, scarcely believing their sensei would go to such lengths. "Tripwire…" He clenched his eyes shut. "A trip wire? Would he—would Hiroto-sensei really set up something dangerous like that in such a small space?"

Namie scoffed. "I'm sure he wouldn't think twice about it. But, it could also be a bluff to throw us off and stall us since we're short on time." She turned to the silver-haired boy, a little grudgingly. His thoughts were definitely welcome, as he had proved himself a genuine prodigy and useful ally, if not an irritating one.

"If it's linked to an explosive, we could bring the entire underground down and bury ourselves alive," Kakashi contributed, glancing off to his left as he gathered his thoughts. "But killing three new genin isn't something a jounin would risk. Setting it up so the tunnels could collapse is counterproductive. We'll act as if it's a bluff, but avoid it anyway."

They moved into the chamber cautiously, avoiding the tripwire, as well as a second that appeared at eye-level, nearly catching them up, and another set near their feet. Then, just a short distance in front of the small box, which was set upon a pedestal crafted from the earth, was a sinister set up of several, crisscrossing, wires that barred their path.

When she looked closely, Namie realized there was just enough room for someone small to squeeze through. She turned to catch the eyes of her teammates before speaking. "I can get to it, but first, listen." They turned to her and waited. Namie passed the candle to Kasuga and shook the layered wax from her covered hands before pointing to the map. "We're going to have to use the rest of the light to help me see past the wires, grab the target, and make my way back. It'll probably go out right when I'm done, so in the meantime, Kakashi-kun," she spoke, a little strained, "use that great memory of yours to plan our way to the exit. Otherwise, we'll be stranded."

"But, how do we stay together?" Kasuga fretted. "We won't be able to see, and if one of us takes—takes a wrong turn—"

"I get it." The blonde nodded, took a moment to think, then began to unwrap her bandages. "I think I have enough here on my arms and legs. Tie them together so we all have something to hold onto. But I also need you to hold the light up for me."

"R-right. I can do that," the medic boy nodded frantically, feeling the pressure of the situation weighing down as he worked out how he would multi-task.

Namie handed off the pile of bandages before facing the wire traps.

Kakashi began examining their escape route.

Thanks to Kushina's training, Namie had become flexible enough to maneuver through tricky situations such as this. Though, the Spartan jounin instructor had clearly kept their limitations within mind, because the wires—_razor-sharp wires,_ she'd discovered after briefly brushing against one even slightly—were spaced ideally enough for a child to navigate past safely.

She reached the small wooden box quickly, and reached out to open it—then hesitated.

'_What if it's rigged up, too?'_

Something protruding from beneath the box caught her attention. It was the white edge of a scrap of paper, something that seemed misplaced in such a condition. Quickly, hoping for the best, she snagged the paper and tugged it loose, holding her breath.

There was no reaction.

With a sigh, the blonde genin brought the scrap within the distance of the light, mindfully angling it away from her teammates.

Crudely, in hasty scrawl, was a message:

_Congratulations on securing the target item. Bring it with you to the surface and you will be guaranteed a passing grade. Your teammates, however, will fail. _

_There are no more traps. Complete the mission._

_Hiroto _

She scoffed and hastily stuffed the note into her pocket—it was a blatant lie, and an extremely lucky thing that she'd been the one to find it instead of the others. Kasuga, she wasn't certain about, but Kakashi would most definitely leave them behind to accomplish the goal.

Namie grabbed the small wooden box, tucked it safely beneath one arm and made her way back through the wires.

"It's done. We should get past those tripwires before we lose our light." She exhaled, shaking the box towards them—hearing something rattle—and leaning over slightly to catch her breath.

"I've got the directions," Kakashi reported, folding the map and stuffing it into his pocket.

"And I finished this." Kasuga held up the makeshift bandage-rope. In his other hand, the flame flickered weakly.

"Not bad. Let's get outta here." Namie grinned slightly, taking up one section of the rope as the others did the same.

Just as they made it past the traps and out of the chamber, the candle sputtered out.

Briefly, the trip paused to acknowledge the shift in their now-blackened surroundings.

"Kakashi-kun, are you alright?" the medic questioned in concern.

"I'm fine. Don't talk too much or I'll forget the way." The rope tugged them onward.

As he requested, no one spoke a word until they reached the end of their journey.

"Light!" Namie cried, seeing a stark brightness around the corner they were fast approaching. It hadn't been long, but she already missed civilization. Her clothes were beginning to reek, she was certain she was covered in dirt and grime and in great need of a bath, but—most importantly—the exam was near its end. She was confident they would all pass.

Once they reached their destination, however, a sturdy gate of steel poles barred their exit.

Kasuga shoved at it experimentally. "It's…what is this?"

"It's locked," Kakashi stated, eyeing the lock. "A final challenge? Don't tell me, the box has a key inside?"

Namie looked over the wooden box and picked at the rusted brass clasp. When it popped open, nothing but a musty old scroll greeted her. "Just a scroll." She quickly shut it and propped it back under one of her arms.

"Was this exit a trap in itself…?" The silver-haired boy covered his masked face with one hand as he narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, wait." Namie dug through one of her pockets and produced the key that had been used to unlock Kakashi's bindings. She inserted it into the lock and turned it, pleased to discover that it worked on the gate as well.

'_Thank god I kept that.'_

The blonde genin pushed the gate aside and led her team out of the tunnels, into a grassy forest clearing. She grinned wryly at her teammates as they disentangled themselves from the dirt-covered bandages. "Mission accomplished, guys."

"Indeed." A familiar voice agreed.

The trio—even Kakashi—visibly started as their sensei appeared out of nowhere. He wordlessly held out a hand to Namie. She handed over the wooden box without question.

Only, she would have, if a hand hadn't abruptly grabbed her wrist and pulled the box back.

"Wait." It was Kakashi.

"What?" Namie squinted at him._ 'Right when the mission is at its end, he just _has_ to be difficult.'_

"Wait," he repeated. He looked up, eyes narrowed sharply at the man. "How do we know you're really our sensei?"

Kasuga gasped while Namie's eyes widened. Neither had thought to question him. It was a vital slip-up.

The dark-haired jounin shrugged, nonchalant. "You caught me." He spoke in a flat, drawling tone. "But, there's no way for you to know if I am who I say I am or not, now is there?"

"No…we don't know anything about Hiroto-sensei." Kasuga agreed quietly, gripping the sleeve of Namie's shirt as he stepped towards her.

The young group eyed him wearily. Nervously. Shrewdly.

Then, Namie took a sharp intake of breath as she realized there was a simple way around this predicament. She reached into her pocket and curled her fingers around the note she'd picked up, but kept it hidden as she glanced up at the jounin.

"No, there is a way. There was a note with the box. You wrote it, so tell me what it says."

"Note?" The two boys spoke simultaneously.

The dark-haired jounin scratched at his hitai-ate before glancing towards the sky—early morning sky—and sighing. Then, slowly, a hint of a smile quirked his lips. "'Congratulations on securing the target item. Bring it with you to the surface and you will be guaranteed a passing grade. Your teammates, however, will fail.'" He paused to glance at their expression. "'There are no more traps. Complete the mission. Hiroto.'"

"He's our sensei." Namie confirmed, displaying the note to her teammates.

Then, as the realization sunk in, the two boys stared accusingly at the girl.

"Why—why didn't you tell us about this, Namie?" Kasuga exclaimed, tugging at the shorter girl's sleeve with a pouting frown, though even his angry expression came off as gentle and had little effect in causing guilt.

Kakashi tugged the paper from her hand and glanced over it. "Why didn't you leave us behind and take all the glory?"

The blonde girl eyed them both levelly, then scoffed in disgust at their reactions. "It's teamwork. _Teamwork._ Why are you getting mad at me for staying with you? You both realized it, too, right? This whole stupid thing was about working together. And we did."

"It was…surprisingly easy," Kasuga agreed, scratching at his cheek. "Um, working together, that is. I-I think we did pretty okay."

Kakashi merely nodded and made a vague, indeterminable noise. "If we didn't, if any one of us decided to act alone, we never could have gotten as far." He directed his gaze to the dark-haired man. "If any one of us besides her picked up the note instead, the teamwork probably would have fallen apart at the end. However, since she was the one with the key to unlock the final door, she was…necessary."

Hiroto took a long moment to assess the three genin, stroking his chin thoughtfully, then slowly nodded and held his hand out for the wooden box.

Namie finally handed it over.

"Mission complete. Good kids." The older man opened the box to extract the scroll and unrolled it with little fanfare. As soon as it was opened, a thick smoke unfurled from its surface—then, their confiscated weapons and personal belongings in their entirety materialized from the page, falling to the ground with several heavy clunks.

The smoke quickly cleared to reveal their sensei holding the scroll up at either end and presenting it to the children.

_YOU PASS_

"We—_we passed?_" Kasuga breathed as a grin spread slowly across his face.

"We passed," Kakashi repeated, shrugging.

"We passed." Namie sighed. She glanced up at the older man with a furrowed brow as a frown crossed her face. "Hey…come on, congratulate us or something. You put us through hell."

Hiroto smirked as he bent down to ruffle all three of the children's hair in turn, earning various grumbles and protests. Then, once they were sufficiently riled, he spoke. "Pick up your weapons. We're going to get better acquainted, Team One."

The three newly-appointed genin obeyed without complaint.

* * *

**A/N:** I feel like I should clarify something based on a few reviews. The pairing thing, if it ends up happening at all, will not come around for a long, _long_ time. And if I ever decide Namie has some really good chemistry with someone it will _not_ become a main focus of the story because she already has her hands full with other things. Don't worry about that. But that doesn't mean I'm opposed to crushes/one-sided attractions/etc happening because for most people that kind of thing is inevitable and a part of growing up—which is, as you can tell, a huge part of this story. So, have no fear. Laterality _won't_ suddenly become a romance fic because, hey, if I planned to do that I would have added the genre from the start. As it stands, there is no official pairing for Namie in this fic or even a definite plan for her love life. The poll is just meant for fun and for me to see you readers' opinion on the matter—which is turning out to be quite varied. I'm surprised!

Thank you for any and all reads/faves/follows. And thanks to these amazing reviewers: **10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Counting Sinful Stars, Chocogirl24, coronadomontes, KiyomiShizuru, Klaelman, Thao Sama, Bananarock509, Kaioo,** **milpld, Sapphiros, StormMega, gonziboss, Kasuke. Hagase, **and **MythologyGirl.**

Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth. You might want to check out my reply to StormMega, too, because they brought up some good questions but I don't want to make these notes any longer)!


	21. Eighteen: Conflict, Unity

That first sign of kindness, that congratulatory smirk—all _lies._ Namie believed that maybe, just maybe, Hiroto wasn't as much of an arrogant jerk as he first appeared, but as soon as serious training began amongst the team, she was certain her first impression of the man was completely _right._

The girl struggled to her feet as she pondered this, bent over and bracing her hands against her knees as she caught her breath. It _hurt. _Even more than Kushina's training.

With a scowl, she steeled herself and lunged at the man, pulled her fist back and prepared to land a strike—and was immediately countered, flicked in the nose like an ill-behaved dog and sent tumbling backwards, landing harshly on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

She could barely _touch_ him. Even with all of the openings he intentionally revealed, even when she memorized his movement patterns, she still wasn't swift enough to break past his defenses or overcome his quick reflexes.

A dry cough left the girl's winded body as she stared, dazed, towards the blurry patches of blue sky between the treetops as her world shifted back into focus.

Staring down from at her from above was the concerned gaze of her orange-haired teammate as well as the snide, superior glance that belonged to none other than Kakashi.

"Namie…" Kasuga murmured quietly, eyes flicking across the several scuffs and forming bruises that decorated the girl's exposed skin. "Do you…maybe…need some first aid?"

"Don't mind her." Kakashi waved an unconcerned hand. "You really need to learn how to tree walk so we can move on already."

Namie heaved herself up with difficulty, holding herself up with her elbows, and shook her head—bad idea. She clutched at her now-aching forehead and sighed. "He's right, Kasuga-kun. Just focus on your task right now." With a bit more struggling, she made it to her feet and brushed off her clothes, ridding them of dust. It didn't help her shabby appearance at all.

She aimed a vehement glare at the dark-haired man standing, indifferent and uninjured, before her.

"What's with that look? I'm the one who thought you would be _talented._ Did you let it go to your head because you were the best among your classmates, and because you could hold your own against a couple of chuunin? Someone like me is on a different level. It's high time you realize that and get serious, Namie-_chan_." Hiroto stared his student down and shook his head while admonishing her.

The blonde opened her mouth, aiming to use the usual age excuse, as she typically did with Kushina, but damn it all if he wasn't _right._ She did need to get serious; she was a shinobi, now.

'_When did I get so complacent? I can't hold back anymore. I have to work hard and get the ball rolling.'_

Even so, the man was seasoned. He was ANBU—probably at some point a captain of his own unit. And as tough as he was on her during training, he knew how to restrain himself but still make it hurt.

Before she could make a move, the man disappeared from her sights and there came a swift, painful tug to her ponytail. "Come on, short stuff, any day now."

That, and he liked to taunt.

"You're a fuckin' asshole!" Namie growled, teeth gnashing together as she lost hold on her temper and let the disrespectful insult slip, but just as she whirled around to unleash her next attack in retaliation, she was evaded, grabbed by the arms, and flipped carelessly into the air, left to the mercy of gravity once again.

"And you're a brat with a dirty mouth. Watch the language." The man shrugged and shook out his wrist in a mocking fashion—there was no way that movement hassled him even slightly—as he glanced coolly down at the blonde he'd thrown. "You're done. Trade places with Kakashi-kun and go help Kasuga-kun."

* * *

Despite Team One's initial endeavor to get out of the tunnel system and complete their secret test, teamwork generally fell apart, especially when they were all sparring with their sensei.

Kakashi clicked his tongue as he collided with his blonde teammate mid-air for the third time during their combined attempts to ambush and subdue the jounin. "You're too clumsy, flea girl."

"Don't—" Namie's jaw clenched as she picked herself up and glared at the small boy. "_Don't_ call me that ever again, brat. And it's not my fault you don't listen to instructions! I told you I was coming in from the left—"

The masked boy's eyes narrowed. "And I told you to move in from the _right _because—"

"Umm—guys?" Kasuga's timid voice cut in quietly.

His voice went unheard by the blonde. "And you were supposed to distract him with shuriken, too, but you—"

The silver-haired boy also paid it no mind. "I already told you I'm not going to be the distraction here. And you're the one who dropped a kunai mid-attack—"

"_Hey._ Brats."

Upon hearing their sensei's strict, gruff call, the two immediately turned—only to find that Kasuga had been captured by the man, who held a kunai dangerously near to his throat. He released the boy from harm just as soon as he succeeded in gaining the other two children's attention.

"I killed your medic while you were busy fighting amongst yourselves. You failed this training exercise." Hiroto dropped his forehead into one of his hands and massaged a headache away. "You three, come here and sit. Now."

Without a word, the three sat in a semi-circle before their instructor.

"Your teamwork is really just awful. How do you expect to take on dangerous missions if you can't even get along?" He sent each genin a sharp stare. "You two," he pointed to Namie and Kakashi in turn, "ignore your third teammate—who is also the ever-important _medic_—and try to handle everything yourselves." His gaze traveled to the orange-haired boy. "And you, you're the calm one, the thinker, so you need to do your best to mediate for these two. Don't just stand by and let things happen. In fact, don't just _stand by_ at all. You are the medic, so you should avoid immediate danger, but you also need to learn to defend yourself because your teammates won't always be around."

The man began to pace. "What you three are doing will guarantee at least one, if not _all,_ of your deaths."

A chastised silence fell over the trio.

"So," Hiroto began, brushing his disheveled hair away from his eyes, "until you three are able to resolve this issue, you'll be undertaking what I like to call 'baby missions.'"

The trio's expressions soured.

"B…baby missions?" Namie repeated, about as enthralled as her teammates.

"Baby missions," the man confirmed with a short nod. "D-rank—sometimes ones that _barely_ qualify as D-rank—all taking place within the village. Things like: babysitting, pet retrieval, folding laundry for the elderly, weeding overgrown gardens, delivering documents…things you can't possibly screw up with your current teamwork."

Kasuga smiled uneasily. "Hiroto-sensei, you really don't pull any punches."

"You expect me to?" The man turned his full attention to the medic.

His smile dropped away. "N-no sir. Sensei."

Hiroto eyed the boy momentarily before letting his gaze rove across the team as a whole. "To that end, your first mission will take place tomorrow morning at 0800 hours. Meet me in front of the Hokage's building and don't be late. If any of you are even a_ second_ late, you'll all be shoveling manure instead. Understand?"

Their reply came in unison. "Yes, Hiroto-sensei."

* * *

For the next two months, in between training together, Team One partook in several of these mundane "baby missions."

Their attitudes towards one another didn't change significantly, though they managed to develop a system to promote teamwork to show Hiroto that they'd improved—and so they could finally earn a higher-ranked mission.

That system, as simple as it sounded, was to pretend that each simple mission they worked together was a crucial, life-or-death matter exclusively reliant on their cooperation, similar to the secret test they'd passed.

Each was aware of the others' talents—that much was for certain. Only, biases and general dislike, as well as pride, often intervened. They were forced to put these differences aside for the benefit of the team and the completion of the missions at hand.

Finally, after the trio of genin proved they were capable of working together smoothly as a single unit, Hiroto determined that his team was prepared for their first, genuine field mission.

* * *

The trio was instructed to meet at the village's front gate before sunrise, with enough provisions to last at least a week.

Namie was first to arrive. No one else—save for the gatekeepers, who worked in rotating shifts all day, every day, since the gate was always open unless the village was under attack or during war times—was present.

"Of course it would be raining," the blonde grumbled as she huddled beneath the gatekeeper booth's awning to shield herself from the troublesome weather. It was only a light drizzle, but it was accompanied by chilled, early-spring winds that blew the moisture every which way through the village so that hiding from it was nigh impossible.

The rain shower had started after she was already a considerable distance from her home, too far to turn back, and she hadn't thought to pack a cloak or umbrella or anything potentially useful against the storm. The only protection she had was her shirt's hood.

"It's prob'ly going to keep up all day." One of the gatekeepers addressed her in monotone.

She wasn't familiar with either one—though, admittedly, the only gatekeepers she'd ever been aware of had been Kotetsu and Izumo. They wouldn't be around for another handful of years.

"Say, kiddy, yer not tryin' to run away, are ya?" The other guard, a tanned, green-eyed woman, spoke in a lazy drawl as she leaned over the counter to get a closer look at Namie. "This guy's always readin' a magazine or somethin' so it's not hard ta fool_ him_, but me? Won't catch me turnin' m'back, nope," she grinned while studying the short blonde. Her eyes widened when she spotted the familiar glint of metal on the child's forehead. "Oh. New genin?"

Namie nodded and mumbled something noncommittal in response.

"They just keep getting younger," the blond man commented, briefly eyeing the small girl. "First mission?"

"Something like that." She pulled her hood closer around her face as she shrugged. It hadn't been her intention to start a conversation.

"So, who's yer sensei? Gotta be pretty strict, makin' ya come out here s'early 'n' all. 'Specially in _this _weather," the brunette continued on curiously with her strange country accent.

"Sarutobi Hiroto-sensei." She eyed the two shinobi.

There was a brief, odd pause in which the gatekeepers exchanged incredulous—and slightly terrified—glances.

The man snorted. "Ha, _he's _a teacher now?"

"Looks like it," the woman cracked another grin. Her warm gaze returned to Namie. "I feel for ya, kid."

'_So, he has a reputation.'_ Namie averted her eyes from the two and glanced out at the village thoughtfully. "I feel for me, too," she responded a bit miserably.

Before any further conversation could occur, a dark shape landed on the soaked ground beside Namie without so much as a splash. Silver hair shook itself dry.

"You're like a _dog,_" Namie snapped at the young boy, lowering the arm she'd raised to shield herself from the onslaught of wetness and wiping the stray droplets that had slipped by from her exposed cheek.

"And yet,_ you're_ the one with fleas," Kakashi shot back easily as he glanced around the area to see that their final teammate and sensei were still absent.

Namie clicked her tongue and turned away from the boy, refusing to indulge him with further comments. It was far too cold and early in the day to get into an argument with a five-year-old.

She noted that he also lacked a cloak or anything to drive away the rain. He was small and young, as annoying as he was, so she was inclined to believe that he was more susceptible to the cold and consequent sickness. The girl briefly thought to mention this before their tall teammate came bounding up to meet them.

"Oh, look, he came prepared!" The male gatekeeper pointed out to his partner as they shared a conspiratorial chuckle.

Indeed, Kasuga carried not only an umbrella to shield himself from the icy drizzle, but he also donned a light, hooded cloak and carried two more in his arms. He was buttoned up rather comically to the nose so that his face was almost as obscured as Kakashi's.

Namie smirked. Probably, his parents were the overly doting types who looked out for their child to a near-ridiculous extent. And had extra time to consider their son's teammates, as well. She recalled the times in the past when the boy "coincidentally" had three times too much food packed into his lunch during their longer D-rank missions.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't his parents. It could have been that _he _was just that considerate. In any case, given how they interacted, it was necessary to have a caring team mom like him present.

The boy exhaled dramatically as he stopped to catch his breath. "Good, I'm not late. It started raining on the way—so I went back to get these. Just in case." He handed the other two genin a cloak each and smiled nervously as he eyed their soaked states. "I, um, figured you'd both need them..."

Kakashi accepted the article wordlessly while Namie mumbled a quick word of thanks before wrapping the other cloak around her shoulders.

It did wonders to repel the rain.

And it was _warm._

'_This kid's a lifesaver.'_ She offered Kasuga a quick smile. "Hiroto-sensei's not here yet."

The trio waited quietly, only occasionally engaging in conversation with the gate guards, until, just as the sky began to brighten with hints of the dawn, their dark-haired instructor appeared. He signaled them forwards wordlessly and only stopped to address them once they were all past the village gates.

He also wore the appropriate gear for the wet weather, they all noticed.

"Good. You're all here, and you look prepared." Hiroto checked them over with a cursory glance and nodded. "Then, it's time to give you a rundown for this mission."

The three genin stood around him silently, waiting.

The jounin cleared his throat. "This mission is C-ranked. We've been commissioned by a wealthy landowner from Kakunodate***** to act as guards along the property line. Currently, there have been several land disputes and cases of trespassing which the official guards alone cannot handle. Questions?"

Kasuga tentatively spoke up. "Yes, Hiroto-sensei. U-um, Kakunodate is three days' walk from here. Six days total round trip. Surely the mission won't take only a day, so…is one week's worth of supplies really…really enough?"

"Good question." The orange-haired boy relaxed, slightly, as the man smirked wryly. "We'll be taking the long way to Kakunodate, since the usual route was reported to have bandits roaming about. So, travel time will be three-and-a-half to four days, especially in this weather. The time we've been asked to spare the landowner client is five days in total, with room and board provided." Hiroto removed a map from his traveling bag as he spoke, and waved the trio—in particular, Kasuga with his umbrella—towards him. Once a dry spot was created, he smoothed the map out and traced the alternate route for the three genin to see. It was less direct than the straight shot the current path they stood upon produced, and there was less tree coverage as well.

"And what if we happen to run into bandits this way?" Kakashi questioned coolly.

Hiroto took a moment to study each child in turn. "If they engage as an enemy, take them out for obstructing the mission."

"Take them out?" Kasuga echoed, tone puzzled.

"Kill them," the jounin clarified without a hint of hesitation. "Interfering with shinobi business is a capital offense punishable by death. Everyone within the Land of Fire knows this. Every _shinobi_ knows this."

"So," Namie's voice trembled almost imperceptibly, "there's a chance we have to _kill _during this mission?"

Hiroto slowly rolled up the map and eyed it plainly before speaking. "I won't lie to you. This mission has the potential to be pushed into B-ranking territory. It won't be pretty and controlled like your pass-fail test was. There will definitely be danger here. That's why teamwork is so crucial." He paused, long enough to fix the team with a reassuring stare. "But, keep in mind that I'll be here, too. You, Team One, are my exclusive responsibility and I'll do my best to keep you safe."

The three genin shared a strange look.

"Weird." Namie was the first to speak.

Kasuga nodded, agreeing with a shaky smile as he fidgeted with the bandana covering his head.

"Definitely weird," Kakashi confirmed.

"Are you _really _Hiroto-sensei?" Namie wondered suspiciously, scrunching her nose in distaste. "Because he definitely wouldn't say—_ow!_" The rolled-up map whopped her on the head before she could finish her sentence, and her teammates were dealt similar damage.

"_Brats_…" The dark-haired jounin ran an exasperated hand over his face as he turned and observed their surroundings. "It's time to go. Take up Formation E with Kakashi-kun at the front and follow my lead." He briefly glanced towards his team, smirking. "Oh, and you're going to get a good deal of stamina training from this. It won't be easy."

He definitely hadn't lied-_easy_ was the last word they would have used to describe the trip.

The first day passed quickly, consisting of much traveling—as well as acclimating to the fast-paced mode of jumping between treetops. A handful of times they'd been forced to stop already because any given one of the three genin became victim to motion-sickness or fatigue.

Once, even, Kakashi had lost his footing on a particularly slippery branch and ended up tumbling to the ground and spraining his wrist.

It was certainly no drawback having a medic as part of their unit. Kasuga was able to heal his injury halfway and wrapped it professionally and with utmost care so it wouldn't be disturbed while mending itself fully.

All of these hindrances were to be expected, Hiroto assured them. Proper adjustment to the field for amateurs took at least three C-ranked experiences, and even then some shinobi still encountered difficulties. Despite explaining this, his displeasure was apparent.

They were determined to work hard and grow accustomed to their new lifestyle career after only one mission.

Outdoor camping was the easiest aspect they faced. Thankfully, the Academy had prepared them with nature trips as well as provided instruction on how to properly set up security perimeters. The dense forest vegetation provided more than enough protection against the constant downpour while they rested.

The second day of travel passed by less eventfully than the first.

"This is really boring, isn't it?" Namie sighed as she sat sprawled on the ground beside her teammates. It was the cloudy morning of the third day and, finally, the rain had eased away, leaving the forest damp and dewy. "I thought there would be…I dunno, more to an outside mission like this." She aimed a lazy gaze around the area, watching as Hiroto disarmed the trap perimeter around their campsite. Once that task was complete, the group would set off once again.

"Don't go looking for trouble," Kakashi warned in a low, unconcerned tone.

Kasuga hummed in agreement. "I—really, I'd rather have this kind of thing than something dangerous. Sorry, Namie. I guess I prefer boring."

The blonde merely shrugged and focused on tightening her forehead protector behind her head and making sure her short, messy ponytail was tied securely. Kakashi was right. It was probably better that they focus on getting to the target city than wish for something more exciting to happen.

'_Be careful what you wish for, was it?'_

The closer they'd come to Kakunodate's hilly geographical location, the more the trees had begun to thin out. Soon, tree travel became impossible because branches were too widespread, and running along half-muddy half-grassy pathways lined with thick rock became their alternative.

They moved forward in a "T" formation—Hiroto at the head with the three genin lined up horizontally behind him: Kasuga in the center, Kakashi on the left and Namie on the right.

During their several training sessions that occurred since their graduation period, their mentor had taught them about a dozen textbook formations to be used during travel depending on various circumstances. Most centered around Kasuga being the team medic; their lifeline.

Namie wondered if these tactical patterns were from his ANBU days, and whether or not he'd worked closely with medics as well. Taji was a medic in the Black Ops, after all; she couldn't be the only one.

Had she been focusing on her surroundings instead of losing herself in idle thoughts, she might have noticed the eerie shift in the wind, and the several shuriken that sailed along with the current, heading straight for her group's blind spot.

"_Get down!_" Hiroto barked at his team, and in an instant he'd used the body flicker technique to position himself at the back of the group as an immediate line of defense. The three genin crouched swiftly and without complaint, whipping their heads around wildly to witness their sensei deflecting the projectiles with a metal staff—one they'd never seen him wield before. A single shuriken ricocheted recklessly from the end of his staff and landed between Namie and Kasuga's hands, dangerously close to the blonde girl's fingers. It trembled as it lodged into the ground.

No—upon closer inspection, it was a familiar sight.

"They're attached to wire!" Kasuga yelled, surprisingly loud, as the weapon was retracted by a thin, steel wire and sent hurtling towards the dark-haired jounin's back.

It caught him in the shoulder, but instead of removing it, he simply snagged the wire that it was attached to and wrapped it around his arm before giving a sharp yank.

The wire, originating from a boulder a few meters away, went taught. For a moment, Namie was worried the wire was razor-sharp and would sever the man's arm—but that wasn't the case. The pull had drawn out a ratty, missing-nin vagabond from his hiding spot.

While this occurred, two other armed shinobi-bandits from obscure villages had circled around to the other side of the team while their backs were turned. Kakashi was the first to notice.

"I'll take this one!" As soon as he was spotted, the enemy on the left charged towards the young boy. Kunai clashed with kunai—yet it was clear who was at a disadvantage by size alone. That, and he was fighting with his previously injured arm.

Kasuga and Namie moved to engage the remaining bandit simultaneously. However, Namie threw out her arm to stop the orange-haired medic, sending him a meaningful stare. "I can handle this. Support _Kakashi._"

"Are you—" the boy opened his mouth to protest, because Namie was also quite small and also at a disadvantage, but upon seeing the steeled look in her eyes he realized her intent, nodded, and allowed her to act alone.

He ran behind the man his teammate was fighting and readied his shuriken.

The blonde reached into one of her bag's pockets and produced a scroll—the same kind she'd given her brother not so long ago—and quickly summoned a stack of her own shuriken from the seal. Similar to the bandits' attack, they were laced with wire as well. Wire thin enough to fool the eye in the overcast weather with little light to reveal it.

"Aren't you a buncha cute kids," the rogue man standing before Namie smirked nastily, mockingly, as he drew a short blade. "Playing ninja and all, even."

The girl scowled and expertly flung two of the kunai towards the man. They missed by a wide margin, one zipping between him and his partner and the other stabbing into the ground a short distance behind him on the opposite side.

Kasuga's shuriken, aimed from the other direction, landed in a similar fashion, crossing paths with his teammate's weapons. Kakashi's struggle with the taller man continued, yet he succeeded in pushing him back, closer to the other bandit, as he caught on to his teammate's plan—Plan _Kakashi_, which hinged upon the boy engaging the enemy first and serving as a distraction. It was one they'd practiced before, one constructed by Kasuga, to use against Hiroto.

Namie flicked another shuriken towards her own opponent, close enough to his foot to where he was forced to side-step and avoid having his toes impaled. "Your aim really sucks, kid!" He crowed, grinning. The bandit stepped forwards, raising his weapon, quickly tiring of humoring the child, but the blonde aimed another shuriken towards his face to halt his advance.

It was knocked carelessly away by his sword and landed uselessly in the dirt, but it succeeded in forcing the man to remain still.

Hands finally free of projectiles, the girl looked over to catch her orange-haired teammate's eye.

"Kakashi, move!" Kasuga called out urgently.

The silver-haired boy leapt back out of harm's way and, at the exact moment he moved, both Namie and Kasuga tugged sharply at the wires that remained in their hands.

The blades at the ends of the strings tangled together as they were pulled taught, and soon the two bandits were caught in the middle of the mess. They cried out as their legs were unexpectedly pierced by the several shuriken and, before they could move, the strings tightened, closed in around them and tripped them up—caused them to knock into each other and drop to the ground in a heap, losing grip on their weapons.

Once they were down, Kakashi quickly moved in to knock them unconscious with swift, easy blows to the back of the head.

Then, the three stood, helpless, considering their sensei's words.

They were to kill these men for interrupting the mission. The look the team shared conveyed the hesitation and uneasiness they each harbored.

It would be a first kill for them.

Hiroto was still occupied with the other bandit with a fondness for long-distance projectiles. It was difficult for him to get close.

But because he was currently engaged, he was unable to give them guidance.

Namie sighed. It was_ her_ responsibility, as the next adult in line.

"I'll do it." She reached down to unfasten her kunai holster and gripped one of the blades with an unsure, sweating hand.

Kasuga cast his gaze downward, avoiding the entire matter, hands clenched into tight fists.

Kakashi looked on coolly, though didn't utter a word. His lips were set into a thin line, behind the mask.

Just as the blonde stepped forwards to make her move, something flashed in the corner of her eye and panic seized her heart.

There, behind Kakashi, was an unanticipated fourth enemy, looming, with a blade raised, ready to impale—

He realized it as well, but his reaction was belated, the distance was too close, there was no time to evade it and certainly, certainly blood would be shed—

There would be death.

'_Fuck—no.' _The blonde watched with bated breath as time itself seemed to slow to an agonizingly sluggish, crawling pace. _'If Kakashi dies now, nothing will be right! It will ruin everything. Everything! He can't die. He's important. He has to live!' _

Namie moved on instinct.

'_He _will_ live.'_

Her surroundings blurred. Her body felt as if it were being sucked into a quagmire's heavy hold, her heart pounded in her ears, yet the enemy standing before her, her own hand, gripping the kunai blade—all of that was clear, down to the very last detail. The nicks in the worn metal, the pores on the bandit's dirty face, the fear in his eyes, lined with eyelashes she could nearly _count—_

She glanced down.

The black steel blade was lodged upwards into the soft flesh of the enemy's unprotected chest cavity, angled to reach the heart, deeply, gushing crimson, yet blood that did not belong to the enemy—a boy, a teenager, barely older than herself—spilled down past her wrists as well. The weapon was wrenched from her hands and a fresh wave of blood emerged as the blade sliced along her palms and it fell, along with the boy, forever embedded, to the ground.

He was dead.

She'd seen the life flee from his eyes—now empty, hollow as dead fish eyes—as abrupt as a doused flame. Death was certain. Death was quick.

Her eyes studied the crimson liquid—red, red, _so_ much red—that stained her torn bandages and seeped through to her skin.

That blood—it marked her.

She _killed _him.

_And she didn't feel a thing._

"Namie," a voice, obscure and vague among buzzing static, came from her right.

With that, the heavy haze weighing down upon her evaporated.

The girl glanced up sharply to meet the soft, downcast green eyes of her medic teammate. He was worried. Frightened. Lost. On the verge of tears. He couldn't look her directly in the face.

"His blood is mixing with yours—it's…it's not… not sanitary. We need to get this taken care of," the boy continued in a wavering croak, and Namie realized her hands were in the hold of another's—trembling. Her dirtied bandages were being slowly, steadily, removed by careful fingers.

Here she was, not much worse for the wear,_ alive_. And so was Kakashi.

She wasn't sorry.

The fact that she'd killed a boy—and she glanced over at the lifeless body once more to confirm it—only a few years older than her current child self didn't bother her in the slightest.

He was nobody. Living and breathing though he had once been, he was _no one._

No one but an enemy—insignificant. He'd simply made the wrong choice by crossing her and her personal objectives and met his end because of it.

Would she do the same for Kasuga?

Her cool gaze lingered on the medic nin.

He was, truly, also unimportant in the long run. He was yet another faceless background character in her small world.

She shifted her gaze to Kakashi. Had she done this for his sake? Or for what he represented? The boy was unharmed, though, finally, his apathetic exterior had shattered—if only briefly—and he was shaken by the close encounter with death. Well. He was only five years old.

It was almost laughable.

What was he—as young as he was—doing here, on the field? What kind of village allowed children so young to become shinobi and face such dangers?

He could have died. He'd _almost_ died. Now, there he was, sitting on his ass and looking half-traumatized.

It _was_ laughable.

"_Namie._ Breathe." A harsh voice ordered her, and a slight shake was dealt to her shoulders.

It only just occurred to her that her body was quivering and her breath was coming in in short, inadequate puffs. The last time this had happened…

'_It was the first time I thought Kushina was kidnapped but it turned out to be a false alarm, wasn't it? I really lost it, then.'_

She forced herself to calm down and took a few, measured breaths before working up the nerve to string a sentence together. "It's fine." When she finally spoke, she found her voice was strangely exhausted. "I'm fine. I did what had to be done." Her bright blue eyes landed on her teacher, unblinking. "You said it, right, Hiroto-sensei? 'Kill them if they interfere.'"

"…I did." The man eyed her warily as he conceded. His gaze traveled over the three genin slowly as he evaluated their conditions. He spoke at length. "The plan hasn't changed. We'll keep moving once your injury is taken care of."

Kasuga cleaned and mended the cuts on Namie's palms nicely. They were deep, but not deep enough to require stitches due to the applied medic jutsu, and all that was left were shallow gouges that he covered with medicated bandages. Infection was a lingering possibility, so she would have to be mindful and continue to change the bandages until the wounds healed completely.

Hiroto piled up the four bandit nins' bodies and, after ensuring none had outstanding bounties, burned them with an incredibly striking katon jutsu, leaving no trace whatsoever behind.

If she so wished it, Namie could pretend none of it had ever happened at all.

She could pretend her hands were free of blood.

As the group prepared to continue on, Namie glanced back at the spot where the bodies had been cremated.

There was nothing.

Nothing left to remind her of her sin.

_This _was the life of a shinobi…?

* * *

Kakashi's elbow brushed faintly against the side of the girl's arm for the third time over the course of two hours—they'd taken up a closer formation for the remainder of the journey, due to the previous encounter, and she was situated directly beside the silver-haired boy. Though they were walking with very little distance between them, he was not the clumsy type. He wasn't the type to intentionally get within touching range.

It was clear he was trying to get her attention without having to be the one to speak first and make it obvious. He really was a child.

'_How irritating.'_ Namie sighed and eyed the younger boy with bland impatience. "What?"

"Why did you do it?" Kakashi spoke with an undertone of accusation. He stubbornly avoided her gaze.

The girl rolled her shoulders, hearing a disconcerting crack from the movement, but ignored it. "If you're going to thank me, just thank me."

"I knew he was there. I was going to evade," the boy countered petulantly, keeping his voice low enough that only the two of them were privy to the discussion.

Namie watched Kasuga and Hiroto's backs as they walked a short distance ahead. Every so often, the man glanced back and assessed the group.

Though, maybe he was just keeping a close watch on _her._

She was well aware her response towards _murdering_ someone was far from normal. Even for shinobi standards.

"Then, I didn't do it for you," the blonde replied with finality, tone just as quiet. "Let's just move past it. I'm not expecting you to return the favor or anything. Really. But, y'know, I _would _thank _you_ if you did the same for me." She shrugged dismissively.

"Fine. Whatever. Fair enough." Kakashi scoffed and then fell silent for the remainder of the trip.

The group arrived at Kakunodate in record time despite the bandits' interruption.

None of them expected the town to be laden with cherry blossom trees in full bloom.

"Isn't this a little early in the season?" Namie glanced around at length as she and her group wandered the wide streets lined with historical-style architecture. The rain had stopped in this town as well, though puddles remained. A cool breeze rustled through the overhanging, pink-dotted branches.

It looked to be an ideal vacation spot—it was a bit of a shame they were visiting on business.

None of her teammates seemed to pay it any mind, however.

Hiroto led the children through the entirety of the town until they reached a bordered area near the outskirts, which hosted two wide-spaced properties as large as castles in the distances.

'_Gated communities of the rich,'_ she mused, studying the structures in the background. They were certainly formidable homes and it was obvious that one hosted their client.

A portly man in traditional clothing scurried out from behind the gate to the fenced-in community and flagged the group down once they stepped close enough. He took one (blatantly dubious) look at the squad, noted the insignia upon their headbands as well as their small statures, and then turned his attention to the adult of the group. "You are…the ninja from Konohagakure?" were the first words he spoke.

Namie would have expected an introduction. The man was quite rude.

"_Obviously,_" the silver-haired boy uttered under his breath, though he'd spoken so quietly that either of his teammates barely heard the word.

"We are, sir." Hiroto confirmed with a tone that was strictly business. This was the part where he would be inclined to introduce himself and his team, though he'd also noticed the man's impoliteness and thought it fair to respond in an equal manner.

The man's mustached lips pursed. "I was not aware the village would be sending…children…to aid us. This is—and I speak honestly—not work meant for the faint of heart." He set his hands into his sleeves and rubbed the no-doubt expensive material between his fingers thoughtfully. Perhaps he was truly concerned for their well-being, but the trio was more inclined to believe he was looking down on them.

Hiroto breathed a small chuckled and inclined his head as he glanced over his team. "I assure you, sir, we are all perfectly capable of handling this task." His even gaze returned to the shorter man. "Now, may I ask, sir, are you Advisor Murasaki?" There was such ice in his voice that the three genin collectively shuddered.

_He_ may have enjoyed putting his team down and criticizing them, but it became a sore subject when others attempted the same.

The balding man's already-round eyes widened in shock upon realizing he'd failed to introduce himself. He held out his arms and nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes, I've quite forgotten to present myself. I am the advisor of Tohya-sama's collective affairs, Murasaki." He gave a short bow. "Please, address me as Murasaki."

The dark-haired jounin allowed a small smile to cross his face as he returned the introduction. His three students followed suit.

Murasaki eyed the four of them, matching names to appearances, and cleared his throat loudly before addressing the group. "Please, follow me to Tohya-sama's residence. And take care to walk the proper side of the pathways—there have been," he paused, "well, you are aware of the situation. I shall fill you in on the finer details along the way."

Being aware of the situation never could have prepared them for the reality presented to them once they entered the area.

The property line division was clear—chain-link fences had been erected to prevent entrance or exit from either side, though these barricades didn't stretch along the entirety of the land. Scattered along the open sections of land were a handful of guards—guards wearing different colors, bearing various weapons—that faced each other with clear animosity and just as much hesitation.

If Namie didn't know better, she would have thought she'd stumbled into an active war zone. A few times, she'd thought to mention it to her teammates, but the tension between the trio—originating from the fact that she'd killed for the first time—was palpable. She kept her thoughts to herself.

'_This isn't normal,'_ the girl decided. _'This is one plot of land—that's why there's not an actual fence splitting it up. These two buildings are on the same property. The pathways are set up to connect them to each other.' _She let her gaze wander between the two mansions—the one in the distance and the one they were slowly approaching. They were designed similarly, neither looking more important than the other. They were meant to coexist on the plane, yet as it stood, there was an ongoing struggle to separate the two. _'Is this an inheritance dispute?'_

Murasaki led the group into the feudal building and left them in a lavish type of reception room, instructing them to make themselves at home and wait as he fetched the lady of the house.

"Hiroto-sensei," Namie began, breaking the stifling silence that lingered since they'd arrived on the property. Once the man tilted his head in her direction and grunted to acknowledge her, she continued. "This is an inheritance dispute, isn't it?"

"Seems that way," the jounin confirmed. "Our client—the Tohya-sama Murasaki spoke of—and her brother Goro are from a wealthy family. Cousins to our country's current Daimyo, actually. Their father recently passed away, leaving the entire property in their care. There were no specific instructions on the matter of how it would be divided, however, which led to the current state of things."

Kakashi scoffed. "Why can't they just half it and be done?"

"Sometimes half isn't enough for people," Kasuga muttered, providing sound logic.

"So we're here to guard the lady's side of things until, what, the official ruling comes through?" the silver-haired boy asked, unenthused as ever.

"That's right. In five days, the matter will be settled fully. Now, up." Hiroto stood and gestured for the others to do the same as the fancy main door slid open to reveal a graceful woman with sharp eyes and glossy black hair who could be none other than Tohya.

Relative to the Daimyo, indeed. The woman dressed and behaved as if she were a _princess._ The long sleeves of her extravagantly-designed kimono barely brushed the floor as she glided towards the four hired hands, and the eyes she observed them with were aloof and judgmental.

Her painted lips quirked into an amused smile as she evaluated the group of shinobi. "Why, I was expecting nothing less than four able-bodied men. Not_ one_ able-bodied man and three young ones." She glanced at her advisor from the corner of her eye. "Surely there's no mistake, Murasaki?"

"Certainly, Tohya-sama, these are the Konoha shinobi we requested," Murasaki supplied obsequiously, attitude changing completely in the presence of his employer.

"I see. Sit, please." The woman spoke in a drawling, regal manner. Once they were all seated, she situated herself on a plush cushion as well, with Murasaki at her side. "I trust Murasaki informed you of your duties?"

Hiroto nodded. "He has. We're to act as your personal guard unit until the official property distribution is decided in five days' time."

Tohya's amber eyes gleamed as the edge of her lips tilted up. "Yes, precisely." Then, quick as a flash, her expression warped into a nasty leer. "That brother of mine is out for my head. He wants the entirety of the land for _himself._ Taking me out of the picture is the perfect way to get what he wants, too. _Always_ gets what he wants, that one." The blithe smile returned. "Well, except for this time."

"An attempt has already been made on Tohya-sama's life—" Murasaki blurted, only to be silenced with a glare from the woman he served.

There was a lengthy pause in which Namie took the time to study the woman quietly. _'A vicious sibling rivalry, is it? Ha, once upon a time I could really relate to that. Even the part where it gets violent and one goes for the other's throat.'_ How strange, to witness the same type of situation in this world.

But then again, Itachi and Sasuke would face that kind of ordeal in the future, to a much bloodier and more tragic extent.

Brothers were difficult to understand. Sibling relationships were, ultimately, troublesome things, she decided.

On that note, even the girl's bond with her current brother was far from perfect.

Tohya breathed a quiet, dainty sigh. "Indeed, it has. Though, Goro and his men are all severe amateurs. I doubt you will have any difficulties with them; they pose very little threat." Her shoulders lifted in a light shrug as she stroked the side of her face with a finger thoughtfully.

"Y-yes, they are hardly trained as it is. Though, our men also…" Murasaki trailed off and cleared his throat when the woman caught his eye once more. "In any event, please do your best to protect Tohya-sama."

"I only ask for peace of mind. That is all I have to say on the matter." The woman moved fluidly to her feet and sashayed towards the exit without a backwards glance. "Please excuse me. I have business to attend to."

The stocky advisor spoke up after the woman waved a hand leisurely for him to continue and didn't as much as glance at the woman as she departed abruptly. "Yes, and to that end, you will all be provided the highest quality of lodging and dining during the days of your service. You will be free to use the lands—_our_ side, naturally—and facilities as you see fit during down time. Are there any questions?"

Hiroto checked his three genin before shaking his head. "No. We understand. We'll begin immediately."

Murasaki rose to his feet quickly. "Perfect! Now, please follow me. I will show you to your rooms, presently, and then we will discuss scheduling."

* * *

"_What,_" Namie seethed, gritting her teeth as the advisor led them to their rooms—two chambers: one for the leader, and one for the three genin to _share._ "What is this? I refuse to share a room with two boys."

Murasaki eyed the blonde child strangely, keys hanging limply in his hands, momentarily forgotten. "I beg your pardon? Aren't you—"

The girl set her hands on her hips and did her best to stand tall and appear imposing despite her short stature. She was a _lady_. A lady in her thirties—at least, inwardly. Not only that, but she deserved her own room no matter her age. It was only appropriate.

The man's eyes gradually rounded as he realized his mistake. A nervous smile stretched across his face as he fiddled with the keys. "My deepest apologies. I wasn't…aware."

"Wasn't aware of what?" the girl asked flatly, eyes narrowing.

Kasuga fidgeted uncomfortably beside her. Kakashi looked away and covered his masked face with one hand as if he were doing his best not to laugh. Hiroto was the one to speak and break the tension. "He thought you were a boy." A smile threatened to grace his face as well and he cleared his throat to hide the amusement as he turned to the stocky advisor. "I'll stay with Kakashi-kun and Kasuga-kun. Let Namie-_chan_ have the other room, Murasaki."

'_A—a _boy?_'_ Namie, whose jaw had gone slack from the outrageous confession, immediately snapped her teeth shut and scowled at the short man. _''Is it really that hard to tell? Maybe I should have kept the braids so this pea-brain could tell the difference!'_

The jounin held back his student before she could react.

"Ah! Yes, of course." Murasaki scurried to unlock the doors while the young girl was subdued.

Once the group scoped out their bedrooms and set down their traveling supplies, the advisor presented them with a scroll listing their shifts as well as the local guards' own.

"Night attacks are what we are most wary of, at the moment," he relayed. "Once the sun sets, we will need you on duty to guard the castle's perimeter along with our guards, as well as someone to patrol Tohya-sama's living area. Then, from dawn to mid-morning, you will be rotated to border protection. After that, you will have the afternoon open to familiarize yourselves with the area and do what you wish. I will inform you of the next day's duties when that time arrives." The man glanced slowly across the group as he concluded his instruction. "I will let you decide amongst yourselves who is assigned where, but it was at Tohya-sama's request that the most capable be sent to protect her."

"Of course," Namie muttered. She briefly glanced towards the dark-haired teacher, wondering if he'd caught on to the woman's obvious intent. During the short time they'd been in the same proximity, she'd been eyeing him, although covertly, like a ravenous wolf after a piece of juicy meat. Not only that, but it seemed as if she'd been set on having a small harem of men in her services. Then again, maybe it was only female instinct that alerted her of Tohya's inclinations.

Or—a vague memory occurred to the girl—maybe her sensei just had_ that_ effect on the female population.

'_Gross. Is he a playboy?'_ She almost laughed aloud and pressed her lips together to keep quiet as that thought surfaced. _'No way. Not with _that_ personality.'_

Hiroto appeared wholly oblivious or apathetic towards the matter. "Understood."

Murasaki nodded and rolled up the scroll. "Then, business is concluded, for now. Dinner will be served in two hours' time. Would you like to dine with the household or will you have your meals delivered personally?"

"For today, at least, we'll be staying in our rooms to rest until patrol time," Hiroto decided. "So please have them sent to us."

The advisor nodded once more. "Of course. Then, we will speak again in the morrow." He bowed shortly before seeing himself off.

"…He thought I was a _boy_." Namie watched the man waddle around a corner at the end of the hallway with a nasty glare.

"Well, you're not exactly—"

Hiroto cut in before Kakashi could continue his sentence and incite an argument. "You two go rest in our shared room. Check your supplies. I need to speak with this one." He set his gloved hand on Namie's shoulder as he spoke his orders.

* * *

This conversation was inevitable.

Any time a shinobi killed for the first time, they would be subjected to lectures, coached mentally and, most probably, psychologically evaluated. Though they were trained as killers, it did not come naturally. The first kill was the type of event that would make or break a strong ninja. It was a defining moment in the profession.

Namie knew this. The same thing had happened with Minato—not only when he'd witnessed his first death during a mission, but when he'd faced the choice to kill for the first time as well. Even Kushina had mentioned the matter in passing.

The blonde genin tapped her hands noiselessly atop her knees as she sat before her sensei, letting her eyes wander slowly about the tastefully plain, traditional room while the man gathered his thoughts and prepared his speech.

It was a fragile subject that someone as severe as Hiroto would have to handle with extra care.

Who would have thought? Death, _fragile._

Memories of the encounter flashed before her eyes. The enemy's blood spurting, soaking through the worn material of a thin shirt—the feeling of the kunai, heavy with resistance as it pierced the flesh of his torso and her hands slipped forwards along the sharp edges of the blade in her quick, clumsy hold—

Her hands—the hands that dealt that killing blow—curled into fists reflexively.

The odd, jerky movement didn't go unnoticed.

"So," Hiroto finally spoke, his voice a low, contemplative rumble, "you experienced your first kill."

Namie looked up to meet his muddy eyes. She nodded for the lack of anything better to respond with.

"Tell me about it." He studied her with a guarded stare.

Her shoulders lifted in a light shrug. When she chose to reply, her voice was quiet, steady. "What's there to say? He was an enemy; my teammate's life was on the line. I acted on instinct. I would have done the same for any ally." For the first time in weeks, she fully dropped her childish persona and addressed him as an equal. As an adult. It came naturally.

So, too, did lying.

Hiroto recognized the change, though his only response was a quick blink. She'd never personally behaved towards _him_ this way, but he'd been present when she addressed Inori and his father in the same manner. It was no mystery to him that she was a unique case: maturity beyond her years with the brains to match—all within a tiny, sour-faced child's body.

That was why dealing with her was so damn _difficult_.

When he'd taken on the assignment to be her jounin instructor, Inori had warned him that it wouldn't be an easy task. Not only because she was a prickly, snarky, unpleasant (and numerous other negative adjectives) little thing, but because her mind didn't work the same way a normal child's did. It didn't even work the same way _theirs _did.

Kakashi was also a special case, genius as he was, but he was every bit a child even if he tried his best to hide it. The difference between him and the blonde was substantial. Comparing them was impossible, and using one to measure or understand the other was unthinkable.

Namie, though, she was trouble. He'd often doubted her outward behavior—that of a temperamental, foul-mouthed brat, albeit one with talent—and dismissed it as disingenuous. He wasn't completely certain if it was_ all_ an act, but when she spoke with such sharp, direct words as if she were on even footing with someone like him, he was convinced that there was a gifted, silver-tongued liar lingering within her mind.

That, and…he wasn't entirely confident the girl was always fully, mentally sound. Especially after what recent events revealed.

Hiroto tapped his fingers along his thigh contemplatively. His gaze was not directed at the blonde fidgeting in front of him, but his attention was focused fully on her presence. "Let me clarify a bit. Explain to me what it was like, killing for your first time. Tell me what exactly you felt."

Namie hummed and smoothed out the hem of her shirt as she considered her response. This was likely the part of some assessment. He would judge her further actions based on her answer. If that were the case, it was better to lie with half-truths and what she believed he expected to hear.

"I was numb. I barely realized what happened. The kunai was already in my hand, so I," she paused and pursed her lips, searching for the proper words. "I moved. I didn't think about it. It just happened."

The girl dropped her gaze to the medicated gauze that covered her hands and kneaded the hem of her black shorts between her fingers. "My grip on the kunai was bad, though—because I wasn't thinking. It slipped when I struck. That's how I got hurt. It was," and, now, she spoke candidly. "It was hard. Piercing the flesh of a living human was harder than I expected. Feeling the bones crack. A-and then, there was the blood. So much blood." Her hands started to shake and she stilled them against her legs to hide the movement. "Was that normal? So much blood…" She began to ramble.

"That's enough."

Hiroto's voice was firm and commanding. The blonde genin halted her rant immediately.

The next words he divulged were a bombshell. "Did you know you were smiling?"

"Smiling?" Her heart stopped. Uneasiness squirmed within her chest.

"Smiling," the man confirmed, eyeing her with an unreadable gaze.

"That," Namie stammered, shaking her head, "that was…It was—coping." Her voice was unsteady. Her words were choppy. "I saw Kakashi. He's only five—almost six, maybe? I don't know. I thought," she paused. For an entire minute, she kept her silence.

"You thought—?" Hiroto prompted, one of his eyebrows rising almost imperceptibly. Initially, she'd spoken dishonestly. Now, her words were sincere. Unfiltered. She had a nervous, tactile habit that served to reveal her lies and now she'd dropped it completely and gone still.

The girl licked her lips, briefly noting they were dry. Chapped. "I thought it was stupid. He's a kid. Just a little kid. What's he doing, performing missions already? He's barely out of the Academy. Barely out of—of goddamn _diapers_. Genius or not." She inhaled sharply. Now, she was on a roll, unable to stop. "What kind of village allows a little kid to get in harm's way like that? What would you have done if he died? Who takes responsibility for that? I don't know why I thought about this, then, but—he's just a kid. Being treated like an adult. That's just fucked. Really fucked up. And it's funny, in a stupid, awful, twisted way. So, sensei, _I smiled_—"

"_That's enough, Namie._" Again, his interrupting words were authoritative. That, along with the usage of her name without an added honorific effectively shocked her into silence. "Stop."

She stared at him with her blue eyes fearfully wide. Had she said too much? Had she said something wrong? Surely, it was controversial. Diametrically opposed to the so-called _Will of Fire_ they were all so fond of—or, was it? Sending children out to the field was already hypocritical enough.

The fact that she was alone in a closed room with someone from ANBU—a trained, professional assassin; someone who had been assigned to _watch_ her once before—fully permeated her thoughts. Sensei or not, would he kill her for her words?

Well.

It would only be fair.

She'd killed, too, after all.

A life for a life was only fair.

She'd _killed_.

Killed killed _killed _and it was her _fault—_

Something wet splattered onto the back of her hand. There was a strange, clammy wetness soaking her cheeks. She touched her fingertips to the wet skin and realized they were tears. Fresh, still flowing.

The sight spurred her on and she continued to speak despite his order to keep quiet, voice steadily rising. "And then I thought I didn't feel anything even though I killed a living, breathing human being. Who was he, even? Does it matter? Does it matter, when someone's dead? There's nothing left. _Nothing._ They don't exist anymore. He was just someone who got in my way and got killed for it and I did the right thing—what _you_ said to do—but I thought my reaction was all wrong and messed up because I didn't _feel anything_, but now I_ feel_ it, I—"

Something collided with her cheek, turning her head to the side—it was swift and hardly painful; only a momentary sting.

"Get ahold of yourself," Hiroto murmured, bringing his gloved hand back to his side.

"You—" Namie's expression contorted, baffled. She couldn't complete the sentence, only rubbed at her tingling cheek with a tender touch. He'd _slapped_ her. Not harshly, by any means, but the intent remained. It gave her something new to focus her emotions on; it returned her to her senses.

The man's expression was just as troubled. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his backswept hair and sent a puzzled glance towards the ceiling.

A dense, pressing silence dominated the room for what seemed like hours.

Namie gradually calmed, and sniffled away her panicked crying fit. She breathed in deeply before addressing her teacher, keeping her eyes locked onto the weaved tatami patterns beneath her instead of facing the man. "Am I normal, Hiroto-sensei?"

"_Normal?_" The man's head snapped towards the blonde girl and he squinted as the fragile, vulnerable words registered. A wry smile twisted his lips. He shook his head. Then, finally, he fixed her with a cool, mocking stare. "Far from it. _But,_" he continued as she met his gaze and opened her mouth to react, "you're also not _ab_normal."

Slowly, slowly, he reached forwards and set a heavy hand on her head to ruffle her hair. A rare act of kindness.

"You did the right thing. Your reaction to your first kill wasn't unhealthy. You're confused—I understand that. For now, you'll have to bear with it and deal with suppressing your emotions since we're on a mission. Then, when we return to Konoha, I want you to speak with Inori." His words were soft, but full of authority.

The girl's expression quickly turned when that familiar name met her ears. Her nose scrunched up unpleasantly. "Do I have to-? Wait," she huffed, "'_Inori?'_ Not 'Inori-sensei?' What's with _that?_"

Hiroto shrugged and averted his gaze nonchalantly. His next words were condescending—a welcomed change to the stressful atmosphere that weighed down on them before. "What, you didn't know? We go way back. He was one of my genin teammates."

"No wonder he calls you Saru… I thought—" she quickly caught her tongue. Mentions of ANBU had almost left her mouth. Speaking about that was taboo.

The piercing gaze he aimed her way revealed that he was aware of her lax, near-slip. He cleared his throat loudly to gloss over the issue. "Anyway, as a precaution, you are to stay at my side whenever we're on duty during this mission." He rose to his feet. "Now, we'll have words with your teammates about this matter. They're pretty shaken by your behavior."

Namie stood and smoothed her clothes out, casting a bemused gaze to her feet. "Yeah, Kasuga-kun can't look me in the eyes." A small grin pulled at her lips.

Her usual façade settled into place.

Despite her unusual circumstances, the girl was naïve. Idealistic. A bit broken. Though—not to a dangerous extent. At least, she wouldn't stray with the proper guidance.

There was still something about her that he couldn't see. Something no one could grasp yet. A hidden agenda, perhaps? It was in his nature to be cautious, but he was uncertain as to whether being unable to fully trust his student qualified him as a proper instructor.

It _was_ quite curious when she had said the bandit got in _her_ way—she treated it as a personal matter instead of an isolated incident.

The man cast his blonde student one final gaze before he opened the door and exited the room.

She was a difficult one. Definitely a problem child.

* * *

Guard duty was, and it was unanimously decided, _boring._

Tohya's soldiers were unskilled and far from serious about their jobs—and since the shinobi had arrived, they'd become even more careless. Apparently, as trained shinobi, the majority of work fell to _them._

And nothing even remotely eventful occurred during the first two days of the mission.

Though, Namie was somewhat pleased to discover that her assessment of the castle's mistress had been painfully accurate. Her constant tailing of the older jounin had thwarted whatever scandalous ploys the woman had thought to conceive.

She'd never in her life expected to end up being a cockblock, and she didn't particularly care for getting between the woman and her desires—but, well, it was out of her hands.

Orders were orders.

* * *

"Ham."

"Mayonnaise."

"Eggs."

"Salt."

"T—ta—to—?"

"Bzzt. You took too long. Tomato?" Namie shook her head as the orange-haired boy stumbled on his words and broke the word chain.

"Ah…" Kasuga scratched the back of his head and smiled despite his third consecutive loss. "I can't think as quickly as you with things like this."

"Don't worry about it," The blonde dismissed. She had a sneaking suspicion she was being allowed to win because the boy was too soft-hearted to be ruthless against her. It was a well-known fact that he was a fearsomely quick thinker when training was involved. Unwilling to start another game, the girl settled for picking at the loose fibers of the tatami mats and listening to raindrops splatter against the outside walls.

It was the third day of the mission and, yet again, the rain had moved over Kakunodate. The trio had already finished guard duty for the property line that day and were left with nothing but free time to laze about their rooms.

Namie decided to spend her time with her teammates while Hiroto consulted with Murasaki.

However, her presence wasn't entirely welcome.

"Why are you in here, again?" Kakashi grumbled from his spot near the window, eyeing the blonde with apparent dislike. "You threw a fit over having your own room, but _here _you are." Instead of participating in their childish games, he busied himself with studying a scroll over some technique or the other. He barely glanced over as he carped on.

Ever since their sensei had sat them all down and discussed the event of Namie's first kill on the field, as well as the basics of what would occur when any one of them experienced the same thing, the interaction between the team had returned to what it once was. That is, Kasuga acting generally friendly and accepting and Kakashi being everything but.

Things had returned to normal.

"This place creeps me out," Namie confided, shrugging. "The servants just stare, and when I try to walk around the grounds or train, the guards on the other side stare, too." She shrugged. "I'd rather be here than alone."

Kasuga hummed in agreement, setting his chin atop the wooden surface of the table he sat at. "I've noticed it, too. I'm not sure they've ever seen shinobi before."

Before any more on the subject could be said, the door to their room slid open to reveal Hiroto, who eyed them with disdain. One antisocial child sat with his nose buried in a scroll, away from his teammates, another huddled near the room's kotatsu looking comfortably half-asleep, and the third actually sprawled out on the floor while staring at the ceiling with a bored expression on her face. "Not doing anything productive, I see. You three come with me. We're going to train."

"In this weather?" Kasuga questioned dolefully, glancing towards the circular window on the far side of the room.

The jounin shrugged. "Sure. Battles won't always be in perfect, sunny conditions."

Despite their grumblings, Team One faithfully followed their teacher to the wet, muddy grounds beyond the mansion. The soles of their sandals slipped into the sludge, until they noticed Hiroto remained unaffected by this because of his usage of chakra. They applied the same practice to their feet and balanced upon the thin layer of water that coated the ground to avoid slow, slurping, unsteady steps.

"You haven't succeeded in taking me down as a team, yet, so we'll continue with that type of training. If you manage to knock me off of my feet and into the mud, well, you pass." He eyed them levelly before reaching behind his back and withdrawing a metallic cylinder, which expanded into the staff they'd seen him wield a few days prior. "Only, I'll be armed this time, for a change."

"_We_ don't even have specific weapons," Namie groused.

"I'm a little jealous." Kasuga sighed.

Kakashi sank into an offensive stance without a word.

The dark-haired jounin copied the boy's motion, clutching his weapon in his right hand. "Start whenever you're ready."

"How do we handle this?" the orange-haired boy asked quietly as he studied his teacher's movements. "He's never been armed before."

The blonde observed the man as well, eyebrows drawing together. "We should try to analyze his attack patterns. Find his weak spots, his openings, time his movements." She glanced towards the silver-haired boy.

"I'll go in first, then," he decided, cracking his knuckles. "Back me up when he makes the first strike." This instruction was aimed at Namie.

"Right, right. Kasuga, you'll observe and then we'll switch." The blonde crouched slightly, adopting her own offensive position as Kakashi darted towards Hiroto.

"Got it."

As soon as Kasuga spoke, Kakashi and their instructor clashed. The boy was mindful of the heavy steel staff, but Hiroto maneuvered it swiftly. As soon as he'd zeroed in with a kick to the man's unguarded left side, the metal rod cut into the space between his foot and the jounin's torso just before contact and he was easily deflected.

Undeterred, he pushed off of the surface of the staff and propelled himself towards the man's head, pulling his hand back and preparing to execute a second strike, but the man dodged with ease and shifted to knock his student back. The moment the man enacted his counter, while he was mid-attack and the weapon was in motion, Namie moved in from his right to sweep a low kick towards the back of his knees and upset his balance.

Only, her assault never made contact. Instead, her silver-haired teammate, caught by the end of the pole weapon, was sent crashing into her side and they both slammed unceremoniously into the dirty mire of ground with a series of noisy splashes. The two genin wasted no time rising to their feet and creating distance between themselves and their opponent. Kasuga hurried to his teammates' sides as soon as they were within his reach.

"He's quick," the boy panted, brushing his damp bangs away from his eyes. "There's not much of an opening, but he pauses slightly before making his next move with the staff. If Namie was just a moment faster, she might have landed that hit."

"The staff is lighter than it looks," Kakashi added, adjusting his mask slightly. "That explains the speed. But I don't think it's meant for offense. He uses it defensively."

"But he moves the weapon as soon as he senses trouble, right?" Namie asked, glaring at the jounin standing before them. He looked bored. As if they weren't a challenge at all—like they were only a swarm of flies. When her question was met with confirmation, she continued. "Then, I have an idea. Back me up!" Without waiting for their approval, she rushed towards the jounin.

The two followed her without comment, knowing it was futile to stop her when she was already moving. Even if they were blind to her plan, they excelled in adapting to various scenarios as a team.

"Again?" Hiroto smirked as the trio approached. "At least your coordination has improved."

The blonde was the first to come within striking distance. She pushed off from the ground and aimed an aerial back kick directly at his front—only to be barred by his weapon and pushed back. However, once the soles of her sandals made contact with the staff, she unleashed a burst of chakra towards her feet that allowed them to stick to the metal. The weapon's weight increased with the girl's additional burden and Hiroto's hold on it faltered. As soon as he was caught off guard by her tactic and allowed the weapon to drop down, both Kasuga and Kakashi moved in from behind with synced attacks aimed at the man's back.

However, he was quick to recover. Adjusting to the changed weight, he swung the staff—and child attached to it—towards the two remaining genin. Just as before, he bowled the trio over with one swift strike, sending them tumbling across the ground.

"Not a bad idea. A little reckless, not very well thought-out, but you surprised me, brats," he ceded, shrugging. He took a moment to swipe his waterlogged hair back and then a small, challenging grin spread across his face. "Show me more."

The trio groaned collectively as they picked themselves up and rose to their feet once again. Being knocked down and defeated was something they'd long since become accustomed to. The man never gave them the option to quit.

However, before they could continue the sparring match, a loud shriek interrupted them.

Hiroto immediately straightened his posture and narrowed his eyes as he glanced towards the direction of the scream.

"That sounded like the client," Kakashi panted, wiping away a streak of mud staining his mask.

"We're done. You three, follow me." The staff remained in Hiroto's hands as he took off at a running pace.

The team followed without question.

* * *

The sight they arrived to see was that of the beautiful Tohya arguing violently with her less-handsome sibling, Goro.

Though, the woman's appearance now was far from lovely. Her hair was tangled and damp, hanging in sopping wet tendrils around her face, which was contorted into a fierce—and slightly mad—scowl.

The skinny, sallow-faced—though regally-dressed—Goro also looked wretched as the downpour soaked him through. There was a stubborn, brutal quality to his own scowl.

A handful of armed guards—all nervous—surrounded them at either side, and, most importantly, this altercation was taking place on Goro's half of the makeshift property line, if only by a few, slight paces.

Murasaki hung back, away from the immediate dispute, and his worried expression morphed into one of relief when he spotted the group of shinobi.

"Thank the gods! Please, do_ something_ about this!" the advisor cried, gesturing to the event before them.

"The hell happened?" Namie couldn't help but ask while she and the others looked on at the childish but dangerous affair.

"I—I've only just arrived, but Goro-sama and Tohya-sama had just finished a discussion within his home and he deigned to escort his sister to her own side. And then…then it became _this!_ He'd brought up instances where the guards were becoming sloppy and trespassing onto his half of the land. Tohya-sama, of course, denied the accusations and—oh, just bring her back to her own side before this gets out of hand!"

As they spoke, Tohya reached out and soundly slapped her sibling across the face.

For a brief, tense moment, the only sound that could be heard was the steady downfall of rain drops hitting the soaked ground.

Then, Goro's guards moved forwards with weapons in hand, at the man's own command.

Team One moved without incentive.

Hiroto shoved their client out of the path of an oncoming blade and knocked it off course with his staff while the three genin parried and deflected the weapons of Goro's guards, coming between the poor and belated defenses from Tohya's own men. The man was incensed when his attack was halted, and his teeth ground together so harshly that the entire group could hear the grating sounds.

"Back up!" The jounin snarled with authority, and, obediently, all guards present stepped back. The three genin also disengaged and returned to their proper side.

"Why are you listening to _him_?" Goro snapped at his soldiers, pointing towards his sister who sat, stupefied, on the muddy ground, tangled within her own robes. "I want that bitch _dead_."

Once his three men moved forward again, Tohya's two guards blocked their way.

The three genin stood behind these men and their client, ready to react should the need arise.

The next event unfolded quickly, however—and they were unable to prevent it.

With a yell, one of Goro's guards charged forwards and impaled one of the woman's men with the blade of his polearm.

The gleaming metal point protruded from the unfortunate man's back dangerously—had Namie not been dragged back two steps by the hem of her shirt an instant before the attack, it would have struck her as well.

Right between the eyes.

The injured guard fell to the ground with an anguished yell and he gripped at the weapon—which the other guard had dropped in shock—and tried futilely to remove it.

Everyone—even Goro—was too stunned to speak.

Finally, Kasuga approached the fallen soldier and, with shaking hands, assessed the damage. "I can…I can help," he tried, voice trembling. "I-I can stop the bleeding-"However, just as he began to apply his medical jutsu, the suffering man went still. Limp.

He was dead.

Goro was the first to interrupt the bleak silence. "It—It was trespassing! We had every right—" his voice died away when he realized no one was listening.

Wordlessly, Hiroto removed the weapon from the man's corpse and tossed it towards the ground. Then, he and the remaining guard raised the body and hefted it towards Tohya's section of the property.

Namie went to the speechless woman's side and urged her to her feet while Kakashi remained standing near his other teammate, who moved slowly, mechanically until he was also standing.

No one was quite sure what to say, so no one said anything at all.

* * *

Tohya's usual pristine appearance had become wretched.

The fine black lines that once surrounded her eyes now streaked down her pale cheeks and her robes remained disheveled. Her fine, dark tresses hung in limp, damp tendrils down her back.

Her lips, once twisted into something arrogant, were separated, leaving her mouth hanging slightly open in an undignified way.

Namie watched the woman's stooped form quietly as she sat beside the entrance to the woman's chambers a few paces away. Hiroto was standing watch outside, separated from the two only by a single, thin wall. She wasn't quite certain why she was asked to remain by the client's side specifically, save for moral support. Perhaps it was because she was the only female on the team. In any case, the woman clearly did not wish to be alone.

The sight stirred something in her heart—it was something familiar. Something miserable.

"Do you have siblings?" Tohya's voice, low and weak, asked feebly. Her back was turned, and her gaze was settled on the window that was steadily tapped by falling raindrops.

It was an unexpected question. The blonde took a moment to determine whether or not the woman was addressing her or speaking to someone else. Though, that would be impossible. They were the only two within the room. The woman's eyes were trained on her the next time she glanced her way.

"A brother," Namie answered carefully. "An older brother."

Tohya's clothing shuffled against the tatami mats as she shifted towards the child. There was a faint, troubled crease in her brow. "And how do you two get along?"

The girl considered the woman for a few, silent moments. She wasn't certain whether she'd been speaking of Minato or the sibling from her previous existence. Though, the other no longer mattered. She'd rather forget her past than think of it during random, idle moments.

"I don't know," she finally replied. And it was the truth. She and Minato did outwardly interact easily and care for each other—but what went on beneath the surface was a mystery.

There was a wall of secrets and lies that separated them.

"You don't know?" The woman pursed her lips, allowing a sliver of her former self to return. "It wasn't always like this between Goro and I." She moved to fully-face the younger girl and drew her legs up to her chest, hugging them childishly. Protectively. Then, she set her chin atop her knees and pouted. "Once upon a time, we were extremely close. But as the years passed, as father's condition worsened…as the topic of inheritance became the main focus of our lives…" Her voice became fainter and fainter until it drifted of completely.

"It drove a wedge between you," Namie supplied. She shut her eyes tightly. Was that the future that awaited her…? Another failure to communicate?

No.

She wouldn't allow it to happen a second time.

The woman hummed in agreement.

"It isn't too late," the girl realized.

Tohya's lifted her head in surprise and, at the same time, Namie's cheeks reddened faintly. She hadn't intended to speak that aloud. But, as she'd caught the woman's attention, it was only fair to share her outlook.

The blonde sighed and dropped her head back against the wall, watching the pale ceiling as she spoke. "It isn't too late to reconcile. Once, I thought mending relationships was hopeless—that things couldn't change. But," she paused, biting her lip. "It's not set in stone. People can change. Things can be different. And if you really value something, or someone, it's worth it to try your damndest and save it. No matter what kind of suffering comes from it."

For a worrying stretch of time in which Namie believed she might have said the wrong thing and earned the woman's ire, silence permeated the room. Only the sound of the rain and wind rattling the windowpanes could be heard.

Then, slowly, Tohya smiled. The shrewd, lively glint had returned to her once troubled eyes. "You are an odd, precocious child. I don't like you." Namie glanced towards the woman sharply, strangely, but before she could speak the woman continued. "But you are absolutely right."

For the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spread across the young girl's face.

Nothing had gone right since the mission began, several lives had been lost, but maybe—just maybe—at least one could be saved.

* * *

On the fourth day in Kakunodate, the mission came to an end.

The accidental death of Tohya's guard—a man who had worked in both siblings' service at one time—had upended all plans and discussions regarding the property. In a change of heart, both Goro and Tohya decided to sell the land and halve the profits that came from its purchase.

Murasaki saw Hiroto and his students off as soon as it was disclosed that their duty was complete.

"You will still be paid fully despite only staying four days. Tohya-sama insisted," the advisor informed them. "Ah, she is quite distraught. Otherwise, she would have come to bid you farewell and thank you for your services." There was a heavy silence as the group walked towards the entrance gate that led to the main town of Kakunodate. "Well, it was short, but it seems this is where we part ways."

Once goodbyes were exchanged and the gate had shut behind them, officially ending their first C-rank mission, the group of shinobi proceeded in silence.

It was only when Hiroto came to a stop that the others followed suit.

He scratched at the faint stubble on his chin as he regarded the motley children contemplatively. They'd been through a great deal, during the past week. One experienced a first kill, and they'd all witnessed five deaths in total.

For a first outside mission, that was quite a lot to handle. Especially considering their ages. They were all keyed up and stressed out—traveling back to their village in such a state was unwise.

"Well," he began, "the mission was slated for five days, so…we have some time to rest before we head back to Konoha."

The trio stared at him with apparent confusion.

The man returned their stares, blankly, then shook his head with a sigh. "I'm saying we get to have a mini vacation here in Kakunodate. Go, look at the cherry blossoms or something. You know how to have fun, right? _Fun?_ How life was before you got me as a teacher?" He waved them off with a careless gesture. "Remember that inn we passed on the way in? I'll book some rooms there. So, that's where we'll meet up come nightfall. And we'll leave first thing in the morning."

"Fine with me," Namie quickly agreed, taking his leniency at face value. The four days on the siblings' property had been tiring, but the return trip would be even more so. A few extra hours of rest was preferable to leaving immediately and traveling for another four days straight.

Kasuga nodded and the silver-haired boy shrugged in response.

"I did…want to see the cherry blossoms close up," the medic mumbled, glancing at the pink trees wistfully after their sensei left them to their own business. "Do you want to come with me?" He side-glanced at his teammates, smiling a small, hopeful smile.

The blonde glanced at the blossoming trees. "I kind of wanted to do that since we got here, too," she admitted.

"Sure." Kakashi sighed and set his hands into his pockets. "Nothing better to do."

Kasuga offered both teammates another smile, brighter, this time, before leading the way towards a park filled with vibrant sakura trees.

The two remaining genin hung back and watched him go in silence. Both the blonde girl and silver-haired boy were well aware that their teammate didn't want to be alone. Along with all of what they'd faced during their mission, the medic had met with failure in saving a life. Even if it was out of his hands.

This was the least they could do for him.

"Hey," Namie began, turning her head towards Kakashi, who paid her no mind whatsoever. That was expected.

Just as the young genin made to follow his orange-haired teammate, the back of his shirt was snagged by a small hand that prevented him from moving forward. His shoulders tensed as he glanced up, with narrowed eyes, to see his blonde teammate smirking at him knowingly. A brief, unspoken understanding passed between the two, though the boy feigned ignorance and sighed. "What?"

The blonde gave a light, familiar tug to the dark material. "_Thanks._"

Kakashi shrugged off the girl's hold and rolled his eyes. "Right."

Without another word, they both approached the cherry blossom park where Kasuga was waiting.

For the first time since Team One had been formed, there was finally a sense of genuine unity.

* * *

**A/N: ***_Kakunodate_ is based on and named after a real world location but is not meant to be viewed as the same place whatsoever.

I was going to split this up into two chapters since a lot is going on but what the hell, here's a ridiculously huge monster update to get it over with! Anyway there's enough words in this thing already so I won't add more to it with a long note.

Thanks soooo so much for all reads/faves/follows. Special thanks to these fantastic reviewers: **Chocogirl24, Counting Sinful Stars, Guest (ch. 20), GlaresThatKill, coronadomontes, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Kasuke. Hagase, littlemelonatplay, Ocean Waves, Storm Mega,** **chaosrin,** **SilverRider09, ****Abundant E,** and** GlidingOne. **

Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth)!


	22. Nineteen: Return, Promise

Everything hurt.

It was the day after Team One returned to Konoha, and without the adrenaline rush the mission provided, the pain and stress built up from the past two weeks had finally settled in.

Now Namie understood why Minato sometimes spent half to an entire day sleeping when he returned from an assignment.

On the subject of Minato…

Fragments of Namie's conversation with Tohya that communication was key in any healthy relationship circled through her thoughts. Sooner or later, she would have to confront him about what had gone unspoken between them for so long. And also, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to get Taji's perspective on the matter.

The medic had known of her unusual circumstances—been aware of them for a while—but the blonde had since neglected to consult her feelings. She _was_ her acting mother figure, so it was only fair to hear out her opinion.

As it was, the apartment was empty. Quiet. It had been that way ever since she'd stumbled into her home late last evening and promptly collapsed onto the couch in the sitting room. At some point during her time of rest, she'd rolled off of the furniture and ended up sprawled on the floorboards. Perhaps that was what had woken her.

She slowly heaved herself up with the help of the nearby coffee table and untangled her skewed hitai-ate from her hair before dropping it to the ground with a clunk. It was dirty—_she_ was dirty. Caked with mud and coated in dirt. Probably there were loose leaves clinging to her clothing, too. Maybe even bugs.

Showering had been low on her priorities list compared to treating her exhaustion, but upon glancing at the dirtied sofa cushions, she somewhat regretted her decision. That, and, when she glanced towards the entrance hallway, she could spot a very visible, telltale track of small, splotchy footprints leading to her current location. She shuddered. The mess would definitely have to be handled before Taji returned. The woman couldn't stand uncleanliness.

It was shaping up to be a busy day.

Upon returning to the village, Hiroto had promptly reminded her to visit Inori, with the implication that he would be informing the man and that he would be expecting her sometime this afternoon.

The clock revealed that it was currently just shy of noon.

Namie was certain that, if she chose to ignore her sensei's directions, she would find either him or the blond Yamanaka doctor standing at her doorstep to collect her like some stray animal.

But, first things first, she_ really_ needed a bath.

* * *

Some four months had passed by since the last time Namie found herself in the doctor's presence. At that time, he'd most likely saved her health and happiness with his eccentric interruption—though, despite whatever he'd done, when his goofy, carefree grinning face entered her line of vision, whatever thanks she may have had for the man instantly vanished.

"So, are you like my official head doctor now, or something?" the girl asked blandly as she eyed the man with disdain from her spot just beyond the doorway. She'd raised her hand to knock on the door, but not even a second after she'd acted it had been shoved aside on its own to reveal Inori standing before her.

"Hm? Oh, it's you. Here already?" The man leaned his arm against the doorway nonchalantly, taking up most of the space, while blinking down at the short girl.

One of the girl's eyes squinted suspiciously at the man. He didn't even take a moment to address her by name with that irritating honorific he enjoyed so much. "Hiroto-sensei sent me to you specifically…"

"Ah, that he did! I'm well aware of the…situation…too. You know." There was a nervous catch in his voice—and it was no mystery that his behavior was strange. The girl could spot a nervous sweat upon his brow.

Namie chose to ignore his strange antics and pushed past him into the room. "Let's get this assessment over with, then, Inori-sensei."

Though, in hindsight, she wished she'd turned and walked away, instead.

Because, there, sitting in Inori's small office space was none other than Shimura Danzo.

He was much younger than what she could recall, and both arms were still visible. It was apparent by the current time that he was not yet outfitted with his revolting collection of massacred Uchihas' Sharingan eyes—and most likely had yet to acquire Senju DNA as well. Regardless of that, the bandage-wrapped head, covered right eye, and x-shaped scar across his chin were unmistakable characteristics that struck a bolt of fear through the girl's heart.

Her blue eyes widened on instinct the moment they connected with the man's own dark one, and he caught the brief glimpse of recognition before she could play it off as something else. Never before had she felt so cornered—not even when the fate of her life had been in the Hokage's hands only a few short years before. Not even when her mental state had been revealed to Minato. All of that paled in comparison to this encounter.

No matter what era it was, this man was _dangerous._

And, probably, he was well aware of her existence and most of what it entailed. Playing ignorant was not an option.

Namie slowly allowed her expression to relax as she silently studied the elder. The fight-or-flight response was whirring within her veins, her mind was buzzing, and her heart thrummed wildly, all the way up into her throat, but there was nothing she could think to do besides remain quiet and hold her ground without breaking contact with that severe, calculating stare.

What exactly was it that he saw? Just what was going through his head? She wondered if he was here to evaluate her and decide if she was worth his or ROOT's time, or—or if he had other business with the doctor. Certainly, she didn't think herself so important that every person of high ranking within the village would especially come and flock to see her. Ideally, he would brush off her existence as insignificant and completely forget about her.

Inori stood off to the side, between Namie and the door, completely unsure of how to react. The elder's visit had been unexpected, though it was inevitable. The doctor had done his best to avoid the man since he'd caught wind of the blonde child's exceptional skills and sought him out for a more detailed account of the matter over the past few months, so, truly, he hadn't been surprised when Danzo showed up outside his office. Only anxious.

It was no mystery to him that this man held particular interest in the more extraordinary and covert happenings the village experienced. Inori was aware this day would come, and had been from the moment he'd filed an official report on Namikaze Namie under the Hokage's discretion.

This couldn't be a coincidence.

It was selfish, he knew, but he had not yet lost interest in the small blonde genin. If Danzo believed the girl was worth his concern, then, probably, Inori would lose any further jurisdiction over her. For that reason, he'd hoped that she would have stopped by at a later time to avoid this meeting.

But that was all pointless, now.

"Oh…" Namie began, fingers clenching at the hem of her shirt awkwardly. "I didn't know I was interrupting anything. Uh, sorry." She took a step backwards, cautiously, to escape the stuffy atmosphere. "I'll just go wait outside—"

"No need." Danzo slowly rose from his seat but maintained the sharp gaze he'd set upon the girl with his one visible eye—an eye that possessed a piercing stare that seemed to pass right through her. "It sounds as if you have an appointment with Inori-kun. In that case, I'm the one interrupting." He slowly made his way towards the exit, past the blonde child, but stopped once he was at the girl's side. "Namikaze Namie, is it?" The question was phrased casually, but it was very apparently rhetorical. His gaze didn't waver. "I trust you know who I am?"

Her shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly as she stared up at the man. _'I may be royally screwed, here. I didn't expect to run into this guy so soon. Whatever his intention is, maybe I can put him off with a little brattiness.'_

Slowly, haltingly, the girl blinked, breaking eye contact only momentarily, and nodded. Her cool, lofty tone was somewhat forced. "Yeeep, that's me. And I know who you are, Village Elder Danzo-sama. While it's my first time seeing you in person, I _have _learned about the council of elders in the Academy." Although, she knew so, _so_ much more beyond that. A wry smile pulled at her lips.

Inori barely kept from flinching. The girl really didn't hold back, even when she was in the presence of someone so high up in the pecking order. He wasn't sure if she was stupid and disrespectful or blunt and reckless. "N-now, Namie-chan—"

Danzo held up a hand to silence the jounin. There was no evidence that he was even remotely perturbed by her haughty speech. He wasn't deterred. "I see." His tone remained unchanged; he continued to address her as if she were an adult and not a petulant brat. "What then, if I may ask, is your reason for visiting Inori-kun today? I was under the impression that your observations had been put to an end by the Hokage."

The girl's controlled expression faltered in the form of a slight flinch—a vague twitch of the eyelid. He _definitely_ knew, and he wanted her to be aware of that fact. She considered constructing a brief lie, but by the look in his eye, it didn't seem as if he would overlook her attempt at hiding the truth. He would know if she spoke false, and he would likely not accept silence as an appropriate answer.

Namie shrugged one shoulder lightly, driving the action to appear indifferent. She'd long since become accustomed to having a third party wheedle into her business. It made no difference if it was ANBU or the leader of ROOT himself. He would find out sooner or later, anyway. It was probably that the upper echelon had a right to be enlightened of their soldiers' mental fortitude.

"First kill. I'm here to get counseled, apparently." Her eyes remained on his form, relentless.

His expression didn't shift in the slightest. If there was a reaction to her words, he did well to conceal it.

She wondered if experiencing a first kill at age nine was cause for worry; if his perception of her had changed with this information. Surely, there had been shinobi younger than her ranked genin—maybe even _chuunin_—who killed at an earlier age. Probably during war times, though. She briefly wondered if, maybe, the reason he was here was because he'd caught wind of this and he'd only meant to confirm it by asking her directly, while attempting to intimidate her in the process. His presence couldn't have been mere coincidence.

But, if he _was_ here for her, the question remained: what was his intention?

Whatever the case, he remained silent on the matter. Danzo turned away from the girl, abruptly ending whatever business he had with her, and continued towards the door.

The elder nodded to the doctor on his way out. "Then, Inori-kun, please continue. I'll be taking my leave."

"R-right, Danzo-sama! Thank you for stopping by…" Inori rubbed his hands against his white coat nervously as soon as the dark-haired man was out of sight and well on his way down the hall.

Namie was certainly glad to discover that she wasn't the only one unsettled by the elder's presence.

After a quiet, stifled moment passed, the blond man silently shut the clinic door and cleared his throat. He turned to the girl, eyeing her uncertainly. "Well, anyway, that's what this is, Namie-chan. Saru—er, Hiroto sent you here for an evaluation regarding your first kill."

The girl exhaled a measured breath—one she'd been holding in—before shuffling towards her usual stool and dropping herself onto it unceremoniously. Inori followed her example and took a seat in his cozy desk chair. "Yeah. Hiroto-sensei seemed like he would drag me here himself if I didn't show up on my own." The air was certainly lighter now that Danzo was gone.

"Understandably so," Inori assured, reaching for his clipboard. He looked much calmer, now that he was in his comfort zone. "You _are_ very young." His eyes scanned the contents of the papers pinned to the board before him. "Hiroto sent me a report on the matter. He's mainly concerned about the long-term effects you might encounter. I am too, actually."

The doctor had Namie recount her experience and she relayed the same information she'd revealed to her Sarutobi instructor (minus, of course, the emotional outbursts and opinions on the way the village was run). Inori took note of her wordings, the manner in which she phrased things, and her body language. He provided counseling—with memorized words that were no doubt standard-issue—and eventually deemed her mentally fit enough to continue working as a shinobi.

"If anything strange happens, like nightmares, or physical reactions you don't normally display, be sure to come see me about it." The doctor concluded. He squinted at her dubiously. "And don't _hide_ it."

"Right, right," Namie nodded. And with that, the official business was concluded.

Inori suddenly sighed and bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, displaying his usual strange, hyper behavior. "Namie-chan, that's really stressful. Are you sure you're okay? I didn't kill until I was a teenager. Hell, Hiroto didn't even get a first kill until he was thirteen. Second War, and all…I worked behind the scenes at the time, so I was pretty much spared the violence…" He glanced up to study the blonde sitting a few paces away. "But you're just—_nine_. Mental maturity aside."

The genin pressed her lips together. "Of course it's stressful." Her eyes drifted towards the floor tiles. She studied the patterns they weaved before continuing, quietly. "But I'm okay." And it was the truth. After the initial shock had passed, after she'd talked it through with her sensei and this doctor, it seemed like the event was far away in the past. All that was left was a numb feeling, neither painful nor troubling, when she thought about it now—though, she tried her best _not_ to think of it. Because whenever she did, that color—that _red—_rose to the surface of her mind and flooded it.

If it became a distraction, though, she would have no choice but to admit it to Inori. Hiding away hadn't been an issue before, because she'd been alone. Now, she had an entire team that, at times, relied on her. It was necessary to remain in top form.

The man hummed. "Well, if you say it, I believe you. You _do_ seem to have a talent for compartmentalization." His dark blue eyes studied the blonde carefully. "I hate to say this, but from here on, it just gets easier. The more you do it, the less you think about it. Because if you stop and think about it…" his voice trailed off pensively. Namie glanced up at him, curious. "It might cost your life."

She remained silent, soaking in his advice. He was speaking earnestly, now—textbook aside. "I get it," she nodded.

The topic of death: how serious. How morbid. Yet, it was a common, necessary component of the shinobi lifestyle.

It was time to derail the subject.

Namie cleared her throat before pushing a small grin onto her lips. "So, about that training for my special technique or whatever…?" No one had spoken a word about training for her personal technique ever since its discovery, and Inori was the one most acquainted with the matter. He was the one who held answers.

At least, she hoped.

"Oh!" Inori straightened his posture and smirked slightly, mirroring her expression. "Right, about that. Actually, I've found you an instructor, Namie-chan!"

The girl's eyes widened. "What? You mean it's not going to be you? Or even Hiroto-sensei?" An upsurge of panic seized her. Could that have been why Danzo stopped in to speak with Inori? If the next words out of the man's mouth involved anything even remotely related to that man, she was going to—

"No, no." The blond doctor grinned and shook his head, quickly shooting down her fears.

No, definitely not. Bullet dodged. Or, maybe she was just overreacting. There was still the possibility that Danzo couldn't care less for her. That chance, however slim, or perhaps great, served to bring comfort.

"No way. I'm not suited for that kind of thing. Neither is Hiroto—says he has to be around you enough as it is." A hearty chuckle accompanied his words. "But I've talked it over with your guardian, and she's decided to lend a hand."

"You mean Taji's going to train me?" Namie asked, brow furrowing. The idea to ask the woman for help hadn't occurred to her. She hadn't even properly trained with her in years.

"Yep. From what I understand, molding the technique requires a good deal of chakra control, so that's the main focus. Since Taji-san's a medic and all, she's the best for this." Inori tapped his fingers against his legs thoughtfully. A wry smile crossed his face. "I have to admit, I'm a lot less interested in the technique itself than what was in your mind. It's like, once a puzzle is solved, there's no reason to think about it anymore." His words were painfully honest.

'_Ah. So I was a source of entertainment after all. I'm a Rubik's Cube to him,'_ Namie grimaced inwardly. "I'm not that hard to understand in the end, then."

Inori shrugged. "Far from it. You're one bizarre case, Namie-chan. But on that note—nothing strange has happened since the last time we had a session, has it?" His tone held some concern, as well as a tinge of poorly disguised eagerness.

Namie mimicked the gesture. "Who can say? I've been too busy training to notice."

"Ah…right." The man rose to his feet. "Well, I have some patients to see in a few minutes, so you're free to go." He waited for the girl to stand and step towards the door before following after her. "Just remember that I'm here if anything comes up, okay? I'm apparently your 'official head doctor,' after all."

A small smile quirked the girl's lips. "Right. I'll keep it in mind, Inori-sensei."

* * *

Namie had hoped her business at the hospital would have ended with Inori, but the moment she reached the waiting room and made her way towards the exit, a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Hey, kid! That's you, isn't it?"

The girl directed a mild scowl over her shoulder towards the very noticeable voice of the Toad Sage—and, sure enough, there the white-haired man stood in all of his garish glory, leaning casually against the nurses' station with one hand raised in a lazy wave. No doubt he'd been chatting up the woman behind the desk only a few moments prior.

There was also no doubt he had no idea what her name was. It was always "kid" this and "kid" that. Then again, she wasn't sure if they'd ever even properly introduced each other.

"Jiraiya-san," the girl acknowledged plainly. Now that he'd spotted her, there was no escaping. She resigned herself to the meeting and approached him with a frown. A brief once-over revealed that the man was in no way harmed or hurt whatsoever; he wasn't in the hospital to receive treatment. "Long time no see."

The man eyed the slightly-scuffed hitai-ate the girl sported. "It's been a while. And look at that, you're a genin now and everything! Kids, they sure grow up fast…" He stroked his chin in thought. Probably trying to figure out just how old she was, now. Her height and appearance certainly hadn't changed much since the last time they'd met—only that she'd dropped the pigtails and pink bows and adopted a ponytail, tied up at the back by her forehead protector instead. Perhaps her clothing choices had become a bit more ninja-esque and tomboyish, as well, but maintained a familiar black and blue color scheme.

"Did you need something?" Namie cut in, raising an eyebrow.

Jiraiya blinked. "You mean you don't know? Minato's been in the hospital since yesterday."

Her heart gave a startled lurch. Since when did_ he_ land himself in a hospital bed? That was usually where _she_ wound up. The sudden role-reversal caught her off-guard. "What—_no_. I just got back from a mission last night! Hey," she aimed an urgent gaze towards the nurse—one she recognized from her several visits to the establishment—and spoke to the woman in a quick, near-jumbled tone. "Where's Namikaze Minato's room, Nurse?"

"Ah—well, he was slated for no visitors, but, since you're his family, Namie-chan, then…" the woman trailed off, eyeing Jiraiya, before smiling apologetically. "He's on the second floor. First door on the left. It's nothing serious, but…" her voice trailed off when she realized the girl was no longer anywhere nearby. The Sannin had vanished as well.

It briefly occurred to Namie that Jiraiya had most likely only hailed her down in an attempt to find out the boy's room number, since he wasn't allowed to visit his student otherwise, but there were more important matters at hand.

"_Brother,_" she exclaimed, throwing the door open and glaring at the first sight of blond hair that entered her line of vision. Thankfully, there were no other patients in the room to disturb. But even if there were, she probably would have disregarded them completely and fixed a one-track mind on her injured sibling.

Who, by all means, had been completely unprepared to see his younger sister burst into the room with such a fierce, intimidating expression on her face. (Being exposed to Kushina for so long had definitely influenced her...)

Even Jiraiya was unsure about how to react. He hung back, lingering in the open doorway, while the young blonde loped towards the hospital bed. The only sibling interaction he'd seen in-depth before, besides these two, was between Tsunade and Nawaki—and that woman had been overbearing and fiercely overprotective towards her late brother as well. Although he doubted this girl would go cracking walls or tossing tables. At least, he hoped she wouldn't.

"O-oh, Namie, you're back—" Minato started, grinning slightly, though his attempt at lightening the atmosphere was quickly shut down.

"Hold it." Namie narrowed her eyes as she evaluated her brother's condition: bandages covering his forehead, a black eye, a wrapped—certainly broken—arm, and who knew what else. "Who did this to you?" she questioned, taking her fist in the opposite hand and cracking her knuckles menacingly. Plans to alert Kushina of this event and create a retaliation squad to teach the unknown assaulter a lesson began to form in her mind.

The chuunin held up his uninjured hand to placate the furious child before the situation could escalate. A nervous smile rose to his lips. "Now, wait a second, Namie… It wasn't really…"

"No, who was it? Just tell me and I'll kill—" Her jaw froze. She was unable to complete the sentence. Not because she was being dramatic and overreacting, but because it was something she was most certainly _capable _of. Those words could no longer be spoken lightly, or in a joking manner.

They could become truth.

Finally, Jiraiya entered the room. He held up his hands in a calming gesture once he was at her side. "Hey, easy now. It happened while he was practicing a new technique. Never thought I'd say this, but y'know, the guy can be kind of a klutz."

Minato quickly agreed. "Jiraiya-sensei's right, Namie. It's my fault. I was too careless."

The girl's ire visibly deflated into relief as their words registered in her mind. She pursed her lips, a bit embarrassed by her overreaction. Of course Minato could take care of himself, but the sight of him so banged up was still quite the shock. Sure, he'd received minor injuries during missions, but she couldn't remember a time in the past where he'd ever needed _hospitalization._

"At least you don't look too bad. You're okay?" There was still a rough, dangerous edge to her voice that caused him to fully believe she would take action against _someone_ if he was anything but.

"I'm definitely okay," he assured her, stressing his words.

The white-haired Sannin grinned. "Well, Minato, I just wanted to come and check the damage, but you look like you'll be back up and at 'em in no time." He pointed his thumb at the blonde girl. "'Sides, you have quite the little visitor, here. I'll be back later."

Once Jiraiya shut the door behind him, the room fell silent.

"Welcome back." Minato was the first one to speak. "Sorry I couldn't be at home to greet you."

Namie glanced up sharply. There was a gentle smile on her brother's face—slightly apologetic. In the past, she'd always been the one to welcome him home. Again, their roles had been switched, and while it was mildly discomforting, there was a sense of closeness to it as well. A sort of bonding. She was becoming steadily aware of what it was to live as a shinobi and she could finally relate to her sibling a little more.

But there were still things that needed to be discussed before she could find comfort in the situation. Her previous team mission had provided much-needed clarity that caused her to realize her communication skills with her family were fairly lacking.

And now, in this hospital room, while he was recovering, Minato was a captive audience. It was the perfect time to breach the issue that had gone unspoken for the past few months.

It was now or never.

"Minato," she began, instantly catching his attention with the unusual manner of address, "there's something we need to talk about that's been bothering me for a while. It's about, umm…" Her voice faltered. Bringing up the topic of her intelligence and whatnot was harder than she expected. And awkward. Not to mention a little scary. But it was something that had to be done, so she pushed forwards. "Well,_ me_. And what you found out in the Hokage's office a while back." She avoided looking in his direction while speaking, and when she lifted her head to glance towards him, meeting his eyes was surprisingly difficult.

Especially when his expression was so distressed.

"Namie…" Minato hesitated. Like the girl, he wasn't sure where to begin; wasn't entirely certain how the topic should be handled. It had gone ignored for the better part of four months and neither party had made a move to approach the subject before now. He would have been satisfied if they reached an implicit agreement to simply return to how their daily lives were before the event occurred, but things could never work out so easily—when something important went ignored for too long and stayed repressed, it festered.

This wasn't something that could be overlooked forever. They both knew this.

Namie didn't want to pretend things were alright when they clearly weren't. She didn't want to lie when she didn't have to. All she could think to do was apologize.

"I'm sorry I kept it from you for so long!" The words tumbled out, a little louder than she intended. But once she began, it was difficult to stop. "I should have told you about everything. I should have trusted you a little more—relied on you more. I shouldn't have worried you and lied about things." She continued on in the same breath. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me now. I don't blame you if you see me as someone else, or as a total stranger, or whatever else. I deserve it, after keeping something like this hidden, and—and, whatever it is, I just…it's selfish but, I… I want another chance. To show you I can—" Her outburst was ended by a single, soft-spoken word.

"No."

Namie flinched. She met her brother's steady gaze with wide eyes, wondering if she'd heard wrong. Fearing she'd heard right.

"No, Namie," Minato repeated, terrifyingly expressionless.

She could have sworn her heart stopped beating. He hated her now, she knew it. He would shun her and—

Before she could sink into the despair of being forsaken by her family, a small, warm smile spread across her brother's face and jarred her from those dark thoughts. "There's no need for that."

"W-what?" Her ears might not have been working properly. It seemed as if…

The blond teenager scratched at his nose anxiously. "You've been through a lot. I know that, now. And things have definitely changed, but…" he paused, glancing towards the window. "You're still Namie. Still my little sister. That much hasn't changed."

…_as if he forgave her. _

A grin crossed the girl's lips before she could stop it. Heat burned at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry. "You mean it?"

"I mean it. Don't worry."

Namie closed her eyes. Smiled. A great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and it had been such an easy conversation. "Thank you, Brother." She could never ask for a better sibling.

A calm silence settled around them in the aftermath of the anticlimactic confrontation.

Finally, it was over. Her fears, her worries… Now, it seemed as if she'd been overreacting. Again, she'd assumed her actions would have resulted in exile and hatred. She should have given Minato more credit. He was far more forgiving than she gave him credit for, unlike—

Unlike herself.

Minato was, without a doubt, someone she could trust fully and completely. He always _had_ been, for the entire nine years she'd known him. And he always would be. It was only a matter of coming to terms with that and learning to rely on him.

Namie sighed as reality set in and her brother's damaged state returned to the forefront of her mind. "Alright. But—this should all be about you, really. Just what kind of technique were you practicing that it did _this_ much damage?"

"Ah," a grimace crossed the boy's face as he looked down at the sling his bandaged, left arm rested in. "It's one of the Nidaime Hokage's jutsus. But it's sort of a restricted technique, too, so I should have expected something like this…"

Namie snorted. "But you learned Nidaime's Shadow Clone jutsu a while back, too, and I'm pretty sure it didn't hurt this much if you messed it up."

"You know that, too, huh," he noted, looking defeated. There was no sense in making excuses around the girl, not anymore. She really was something to be reckoned with. Somehow, he was beginning to miss the sweet and doting little sister she once was. "The technique involves instantaneous travel…but, well, figuring out how to land properly is the hard part. That's how _this_ happened." A deep sigh summed up his frustration with the ordeal.

'_Hiraishin, alright. I knew that's what Sei's strange kunai would be used for.'_ The girl studied her brother quietly. He looked like he'd smacked into a tree or something. But even with the current troubles, he would no doubt master the jutsu within record time. It was a large part of his future reputation. Still, he wasn't perfect. It was only natural that he would face difficulties like this on his way to success.

"Why aren't you allowed to have visitors?" She recalled the nurse's words.

Minato cringed. "About that…I didn't want Kushina to see me like this. It's a little embarrassing."

Namie couldn't resist the temptation to laugh. "Brother, are you a moron? It's every guy's dream to have their girlfriend nurse them back to health, you know!" Although she wasn't certain if Kushina was the gentle-natured type suitable for that sort of thing—she may end up doing more harm than good.

Minato laughed as well, albeit nervously. Again, his sister was displaying her great, precocious stance on relationships despite being nine—he wasn't sure he wanted to know where it came from. Things like _that_, at least, could leave to denial. He scrambled for another subject to take his mind off of it, and remembered her presence was unexpected. "How did your first outside mission go, Namie?"

"Oh, right." The blonde hummed as she stuck her hands in her shirt's large front pocket. The next words she spoke were so casual and emotionless that the content could have been overlooked as something completely mundane. "I made my first kill."

The blond's expression froze. He blinked. And blinked again. His brow furrowed as he rubbed at one of his ears, looking puzzled. Then, he aimed a nervous smile towards his sister. "Come again?"

"I, uh," Namie started, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal when others were concerned, but now that she was confessing it to Minato—something she would have kept to herself under normal circumstances, before their previous conversation had taken place—whose reaction was unexpected, it suddenly occurred to her that, maybe, just maybe, she should have kept her mouth shut after all. That was no longer an option. "I killed an enemy," she reiterated, fingers twisting together. "A bandit."

"Killed…you killed?" His face revealed blatant surprise. Shock. Uncertainty. And, possibly, regret?

She couldn't be sure. His emotions were still challenging to differentiate since he'd done such a good job of concealing them in the past. The girl offered him an uneasy, reassuring smile. "I _am_ a shinobi now, Brother. It's kind of…expected."

The boy relaxed against the pillows set behind him as he cast a conflicted gaze to the ceiling. "You're right. I just didn't think you would have to do something like—like _that _so soon." Gradually, he glanced at his sister from the corners of his eyes, clearly concerned. "Do you want to talk about it?" There was hesitation in his tone. And rightly so. They hadn't shared a heart-to-heart moment in quite a while. And never over such a gruesome subject.

Namie hummed and waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, I'm fine. I've already been drilled by Hiroto-sensei and, actually, I just finished talking about it with Inori-sensei a few minutes ago." A serious frown crossed her face. "If I have to repeat the story again I'm gonna cry—but not from stress or anything. It's just so tedious. And I don't want to upset you while you're still healing."

"But—"

"Really, Brother, it's fine." She paused long enough to consider her next words before she met his worried gaze with a comforting one. "But if it's ever _not_ fine, if _anything _is ever not fine, I'll be sure to tell you about it." Her eyes met his and she maintained a steady gaze. "I promise."

Minato studied his sister carefully before speaking. Her words were sincere—there was a stark contrast between the way she spoke now compared to how she had been during her stay in the hospital. She had definitely become more honest. Perhaps her last mission had changed her. The experience of death often influenced an individual's worldview, after all, and she was no exception.

Whatever the case, he was certain she would speak of it when she was ready. "Then, I promise to listen when that time comes." It was all he could offer.

The weight of their words was heavy. Definite. It was the first promise made between the siblings; it was a sign of progress.

Perhaps they would never share the same mindset. Certainly, secrets would continue to separate them, as it had always been. But slowly, slowly, they would come to an understanding.

Some promises were nothing but empty words.

* * *

**A/N: **And there's chapter nineteen! Part I is almost at its end. I have two more chapters planned for it, but that may change if I think there are more things I need to cover before then. I'm not sure yet really… There's still a long way to go for this story, though.

**IMPORTANT:** I've been very busy with family stuff and I recently secured my first full-time job so I'm not as far ahead in writing as I'd like to be. So if there's not a new chapter up for a while, that's why! I'll be back to work on this story as soon as I'm able.

Thank you for all reads/faves/follows! And thanks to these fantastic reviewers, too: **Counting Sinful Stars, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Chocogirl24, SixPerfections, coronadomontes, GlaresThatKill, Bananarock509, Kasuke. Hagase, Guest (ch. 21), SilverRider09, chaosrin,** **pseudo41,** **Abundant E,**** littlemelonatplay,** and** GlidingOne.**

Also, **GlidingOne** brought something to my attention: did I make it clear enough that Kakashi was the one who pulled Namie out of the way when the guard's weapon almost impaled her? The little exchange between Namie and Kakashi at the end of the chapter where she thanked him was meant to clarify that he was the one who saved her from harm, since she mentioned a little earlier in the chapter that _she _would thank _him_ if he saved her. If this info here comes as a surprise, _please_ let me know and I'll have to go and fix it up a little if it was too subtle.

Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth)! New character sketches have also been posted there, for those who are interested. Links are in my profile and should be updated.


	23. Twenty: Camaraderie, Affinity

After an hour of visiting with her brother that concluded with the idea to train together (partly so she could see the Flying Thunder God space-time jutsu at work) once his injuries were fully healed, Namie was finally free to leave the hospital.

It had occurred to her several times to ask just _what_ kind of fuck-up had caused Minato's injuries, but she'd decided to leave his pride intact by keeping quiet on the matter. The fact that he didn't want Kushina to know about it meant it was probably pretty embarrassing and better left alone. Though, she had a feeling the girl would find out about it anyway.

Namie fell into step with the slow-wandering, bustling, crowd trailing along the main street as she mused over her recent discoveries concerning her brother and her life in Konoha.

She and Minato had reached a new level in their relationship, and, finally, Namie was beginning to recognize the sense of a voluntary familial bond—the fact that, _yes,_ Minato was indeed her brother, by blood and by birth—as opposed to the societal obligation of acknowledging that they were siblings and knowing that he was someone important to the plot whom her presence had little effect on.

Her existence was not solely her own.

Before, she'd only considered her own perspective. But there were so many more sides involved than just that self-centered one; there were definitely people who cared for her and her well-being. So many people around her had expressed that countless times, yet she'd chosen to write off those instances or use them to her own advantage. However, those feelings were genuine. They were coming from real people—flesh and blood people, people who _existed_ here, just as she herself did.

She was well aware of her own stubborn nature, but perhaps she'd been blind to its extent. It was only natural that her rebirth into this world affected those around her whether she consciously chose for it to happen or not. Like the Butterfly Effect, even the smallest, briefest interaction could give rise to a great change and maybe, just maybe, she'd been trying to deny that fact the entire time. Regardless of the young woman she had once been, and despite her knowledge of _Naruto's_ timeline, she was now a complete part of this world, assimilated into its clockwork as a cog just as everyone else was.

It was a difficult concept to grasp, and it would take a great deal of struggling before she was able to accept it fully.

There were over twenty years filled with independence separating her previous life from the current one, after all. Namie had always been quite capable of getting through difficult situations on her own, refusing to rely on others even during those heart wrenchingly lonely times, and at one point she'd even taken pride in her ability to be so mentally resilient and able to get by without relying on others for even the smallest of things. However, in return, her ability to empathize, and her relationships with others suffered greatly.

Here, in this world, there was no longer such a need to be so closed off. The shinobi lifestyle was one of teamwork and cooperation. There were times in which she would face the absolute _need _to rely on others. There were others who would definitely _be there for her_ when she needed them_, _and there were times she would need to be there for others, regardless of how she felt about them.

The mission to Kakunodate had sucker punched her with a heavy dose of that reality. The conversation with her brother had only served to confirm the fact that, indeed, she still had much growing to do despite her mental age.

Well, it was never too late to learn something new.

Now, it was up to her to work at changing her perspective and adjusting to the new world that was undoubtedly, and would continue to be, her own. There was no going back to what she once had in her previous life, after all. She _knew_ that, yet the dichotomy would remain. She couldn't simply erase the old—only learn to live with it and do things differently the second time around.

It was what she'd always intended to do. Now—and it was a long time coming—it was finally time to enact the change. There was no point in doing things the same as before.

Namikaze Namie was a new person: her second chance. And there probably wouldn't be another.

She was a genin, now. She needed to become strong. Even if it meant drawing unwanted attention—if that happened to be the case, she would simply have to become strong enough to repel the danger. Even then, there were people who would go to whatever lengths to protect her if she couldn't yet do so herself. That much was clear. That was what it meant to rely on others: moving forward unrestrained and trusting that things would have a way of working out in the end.

Like a trust fall, she would be leaving her health and fate in the arms of her friends and loved ones—and, at times, total, faceless strangers. But for the greater good—for her plan to protect those she held near to her heart—doing this was necessary.

It was time to take the first step towards that cause.

And step she did—right onto something tepid and mushy, seeping grossly through the sole of her ninja sandal.

Namie froze. There was the sound of a poorly-concealed guffaw and a cry of alarm from nearby, yet those sounds were mere static in her ears compared to the groan of disgust that left her lips upon realizing that, revoltingly enough, she'd unwittingly stepped right into a pile of dog crap. "Please don't tell me that's what I think it is," she grumbled pointlessly, if only to reach for an answer that would reveal it was melted chocolate or mud and not…smelly animal dung.

Slowly, and with no little amount of disdain, she pulled her foot free with a wet, squishy slurp and wrinkled her nose up as she stared at the dirtied underside of her shoe.

It came to her attention that there was a vaguely familiar, pale-haired man half-kneeled at her side, whose outstretched hand that held a small plastic bag was frozen halfway towards the mess on the ground. Probably, he'd intended to pick it up before she'd squashed it.

Then, an alarmingly recognizable, derisive laugh met her ears—sure enough, when she cast her gaze to the side, Kakashi came into her line of vision. His shoulders were hunched and he looked to be in stitches from undoubtedly doing his best not to burst out into a loud fit of laughter at her expense. Around them stood a handful of canines that each sported the Konoha hitai-ate.

Then…the silver-haired man here was probably…

After the initial shock settled—clearly, no one had expected anyone to _step _on the pile, and a sudden embarrassment seized her since she'd been the unobservant one to do just that—and it was clear Namie wouldn't burst into tears, the man offered a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. I tried to clean it up as quickly as possible, but…it looks like that wasn't soon enough."

Namie took a small hop-step back, refusing to put any weight on the foot covered in grossness, and slipped off the tainted sandal with a grimace while the man resumed picking up the muck from the street. There was no way Taji would approve of her bringing that thing back home and she had an old, spare pair anyway. "It's fine. I'm the one who wasn't looking, so you don't have to apologize, Mister." The sight of her smugly grinning (or, at least it seemed like he was grinning by the way his eyes were creased) teammate stabbed at her nerves. He was definitely getting some twisted amusement out of her misfortune—payback was in order. "Say, you two look a lot alike. You're not_ Kakashi-kun's_ dad, are you?"

"That's right, I am. Hatake Sakumo." The man—who was no doubt Konoha's White Fang yet still had the decency to introduce himself—turned towards his son curiously as he straightened up. "Is this your friend, Kakashi? Why didn't you say so?"

"Not friend," he started, shrugging, though by his light tone it was clear he still found the entire ordeal hilarious. "Teammate. I didn't recognize her just now because I thought she was a boy."

Namie grit her teeth. Of course, he always had a way to flip the situation on her. "I'm one of his teammates, Namikaze Namie," she offered lightly, standing a bit awkwardly with her bare foot hovering above the ground and her dirty shoe in one hand. "Don't tell me he hasn't told you about his team? It seems only fair, he never shuts up about his dear old daddy, after all. I can imagine you're pretty awesome, though, judging by who you are, Mister White Fang." Her face split into a wide grin while, in the background, Kakashi's eyes narrowed. Two could play at that game and no one was a bigger brat than she was.

"Does he, now?" Sakumo was modest enough to look slightly uncomfortable by the way the girl addressed him by his renowned nickname—or perhaps by the way Kakashi's sarcastic attitude revealed itself. Unlike his son, he didn't seem the arrogant, obnoxious type. If she wasn't mistaken, there was also a pleased tinge of coloring that appeared on his face at the mention of his son speaking of him to his teammates. She almost felt a bit bad about exaggerating that. From what she could remember, the topic had only come up once and Kakashi remained terse on the matter.

When he smiled fondly down at his son, Kakashi averted his gaze and crossed his arms, clearly flustered. He must have been pretty attached to his dad, though, because he made no move to deny the claim. Or he was too proud to get into an argument in front of his parent.

"Are all these dogs yours?" Namie questioned innocently, eyes darting between the three dogs that were present. One looked to be a puppy, while the others were gruff adults. None were particularly cute or fluffy like Kurocha. She couldn't fairly remember which ones were a part of Kakashi's future team of summons, if any at all, but these looked seasoned. Save for the youngest one, who clearly wasn't potty trained. Probably, they'd all been out on a walk.

"They are. They're a part of my team," Sakumo humored, attention returning to the young blonde. His brow creased in concern. "Namie-chan, was it? Would you, ah, like a bag to carry your shoe in? It's the least we could do." As the girl shrugged, he turned to Kakashi, who handed an extra cleaning bag over almost grudgingly.

"Thanks." Namie tied her shoe up within it gratefully, planning on dumping it as soon as she found the nearest trash bin that was out of their immediate sight. She removed the other—clean—one, too, since her steps would be uneven and irritating otherwise.

Witnessing this scene reminded her that she had a summon team to acquaint herself with as well, being that she had yet to touch the hawk scroll since it was passed down to her possession. Today was as good a day as any to take care of that matter.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Sakumo-san, but I have to get going now. See you later, Kakashi-kun!" With a grin, she sent the two Hatakes a wave and then set off down the street with little care that she was now barefoot.

It only occurred to her when she was well on her way home that the White Fang would die when Kakashi was quite young and that that time was no doubt closing in.

* * *

The small, ragged scroll had been pushed to the very back of one of her bookshelves, forgotten, and was covered in a light layer of dust. It didn't take long to find it and shake it clean, but for the better part of an hour, Namie had simply stared at after setting it upon the kitchen table. Truthfully, she wasn't certain how to go about signing a summoning contract.

In the series, when Naruto had done it, all he'd done was sign his name in blood and provide his fingerprints in an open spot on the roster. Then, the more chakra that was applied, the stronger the summon creature would be. But was that all there was to it?

Taji wouldn't be home until the next day at the earliest, and waiting seemed so dull now that she was set on doing this.

At the very least, she knew not to attempt summoning when a contract wasn't in place. That _was_ what had led Jiraiya to Mount Myouboku, but something unknown and unfortunate could happen to her if she messed with a space-time jutsu unprepared. She wasn't keen on the idea of becoming a missing person warped away into the void somewhere.

Carefully, she unrolled the contract scroll and eyed the handful of faded red names that were present. The first three were indeterminable, but the one at the end clearly read _Namikaze Harumi_. No one had used the contract in over nine years, then.

Maybe they would be excited to see another summoner.

Maybe they'd become feral and would attack her.

She wasn't all that knowledgeable about hawks, like her mother had been. Or birds in general, for that matter.

But it couldn't be _that_ hard. She'd read briefly on the subject, though the technical matters and finer points of the technique had gone unmentioned. All she knew, from reading and from watching Minato at work, that the necessary hand signs were Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, and Ram, in quick succession.

With a sigh, she nicked the edge of her thumb with her teeth and waited until a sufficient amount of blood beaded up on the skin before slowly, neatly, tracing her name onto the register. Then, she smeared the pads of her fingers together and pressed her fingerprints into the fine rice paper.

'_It looks right…'_

It was only a C-ranked technique. It couldn't be that easy to mess up, as long as she had her name on the contract and performed the seals right.

Right…?

After some deliberation, Namie ran through the required hand seals and pressed her hand onto the flat surface of the table. "_Kuchiyose no jutsu!_"

Nothing happened immediately.

But then, a dense cloud of smoke erupted, and the frantic flapping of wings could be heard within the smog. There came a dry cough, a congested squawk, then the clacking of talons upon the tabletop. Soon, the haze cleared to reveal a large—or perhaps smallish, she wasn't entirely sure—dusty-looking gray hawk with disheveled feathers and a small black patch across one eye. Its back was hunched defensively as its single beady eye flitted around hastily before zeroing in on the small blonde girl.

"You? Who the hell are _you? _Where's Harumi-chan?" The hawk, who was quite old and ornery, going by his labored, wheezing voice and behavior, took a step forward and pecked at her hand meanly, causing her to draw back with a hiss of pain and a vexed frown. His little orange beak was _sharp. _Not to mention chipped and battle-worn. "Your chakra signature was similar, so I thought it was the old girl…it's been years, though. Don't tell me she kicked the bucket?" He gave another wheezing cough that puffed up his feathers.

Namie stood, stunned, as she observed the hawk. This was far from what she'd expected. She hadn't been sure what to expect, that was true, but _this_ definitely wouldn't have occurred to her ever. She wasn't quite sure how to react.

"Well? You're not mute, are ya?" He barked sternly, which was an impressive feat for a bird. "Did she pass the contract on to you, girlie?"

"I'm Harumi's daughter," Namie provided instantly, lips pressing together tightly. "She passed away giving birth to me a little over nine years ago."

"Nine years ago…?" The hawk repeated distantly, single eye closing in respect to honor the memory. "Explains why it's been so long." Without warning, he flicked his wings out spastically, nearly losing his balance, and then approached the edge of the table to better see the young girl. She held her ground, though cautiously. "Then I suppose you're the one she left the contract to."

Namie nodded.

"You don't look like much." He side-eyed her, giving her a quick once over, and sniffed haughtily—which quickly turned into a hacking cough. "Name and age?"

"Namikaze Namie. And I'm nine, like I said."

"_Nine?_ What are you doing, summoning so early? You should still be in school! You're _way_ too young to be working with this cast, kid!" He looked about the room, noting that it was empty. "Who helped you with this?"

Namie's brow furrowed. "No one. I did it myself."

"_Yourself?_" he shrieked, beating his wings irritably. Then, he took off from the edge of the table and attacked, rapping his claws against her head, tangling into her hair. Caught off guard, she stumbled and dropped to the ground. "Reckless! Stupid! Just what was going through your head? I should beat that idiocy out of you! Do you know how many things could go wrong if you mess up a summoning technique?! Harumi would curse me from the afterlife if you made a novice mistake trying to summon us alone!"

Namie winced, doing her best to shield herself with her bare arms (and sorely wishing she'd worn bandage wraps that day, though the bird's sharp claws probably would have made short work of them), but that only resulted in a scattering of painful scratches on her forearms. "Shit—back off, _grandpa_, I did think of that! Sorry, okay? Just quit!"

Either way, he was once again seized by a coughing fit, and after sending the girl a disdainful look and pecking at her one last time for swearing, he returned to his perch on the kitchen table. "Foolish _and_ rude. And don't call me grandpa, address me as _Takumi-sama._ You'd do well to learn some manners before you come calling on my clan, fledgling. Not only that, but you didn't even prepare an offering. Harumi-chan always made sure to have us something nice to eat when she needed us…" the old bird trailed off bitterly.

Namie rubbed at her scratched-up, stinging skin, then weakly attempted to straighten her ratty hair. "I said I was sorry."

"And you _should _be! Listen here, greenhorn, train yourself up well and call us up again when you're a _chuunin_ with some actual discipline. If I hear you're trying to summon up my family again before then, I'll be sure to come and discipline you myself. Got it?"

"Got it," the blonde nodded, frowning. "But—say, what if I never become a chuunin?"

"Ha! Then kiss any chance of working with this team goodbye!" With one final sniff, Takumi turned tail, grabbed the signed contract in his beak, and disappeared exactly as he'd arrived.

Namie couldn't do much else but stare at the empty spot where the old hawk had once been.

It didn't look like she would be summoning anything anytime soon…

A quiet, hesitant knock to the door pulled her thoughts away from the incident.

'_A visitor? We barely ever get those. And no one knocks that gently.'_ The blonde rose to her feet, dusted off her shorts and took her time approaching the entry hallway. Without considering her messy appearance, she opened the door to find out who the strange caller was.

Her orange-haired teammate stood before the door, looking awkward and a little shy as he usually did outside of missions, wringing his low side-ponytail between his fingers idly and looking elsewhere until his name was called.

"Kasuga-kun?"

The boy's dark green eyes snapped towards her—and he balked at her tattered state. "N—_Namie, what happened to you?_" He held his hands out uncertainly and hovered like a worried mother hen (there was a reason he was dubbed the team mom) as he examined the several cuts and scrapes she sported. Her hair was a wreck—drooping halfway from its high ponytail, and the rest pulled up messily and sticking about every which way like dry straw—and her forehead protector was set crookedly upon her head, only half-covering her actual forehead. And—was that a feather there, sticking out from behind her ear? There was also one on the front of her shirt…

The girl set her hand atop her head to check the damage again, remembering that she hadn't had a chance to clean up, and grinned as she pulled her blue headband loose. "I got in a fight." It looked like Takumi had frayed the edges of the hitai-ate with his pecking. She combed her fingers through her hair, smoothing it, while still grinning blithely, as if admitting to fighting was something positive. Especially with the state she was in.

Kasuga simply muttered something about infections before reaching into one of his storage packs and rummaging around for a jar of antiseptic.

"Anyway, come in, I guess. What did you need?" Namie asked, moving aside to allow her teammate into the home. "I don't think you've ever visited, before."

The medic looked up once he'd finally succeeded in finding the item and nodded a little anxiously before accepting the offer and passing through the doorway. "I ran into Hiroto-sensei a little while ago. He asked me to come get you and bring you to Training Ground Nine while he went to tell Kakashi-kun." With some difficulty, he removed his green shoes and then stepped into the guest slippers his teammate pointed out to him. "We shouldn't keep them waiting for long, but at least let me take care of those scratches."

"Alright. You can sit where you want—and there's a medkit somewhere around here, you don't have to use your own stuff." She shrugged towards the living room area. "I can't believe we barely get any resting time. Hiroto-sensei's such a drill sergeant…"

He nodded again and shuffled towards the couch in the sitting room, silently refusing the offer to use the medical supplies that were already present and continuing to retrieve the cotton balls and small bandaids from his own pouch.

Once she was satisfied with the state of her hair, Namie pulled her hitai-ate back on and tied the strands up into the habitual ponytail. She then eyed Kasuga steadily and realized, for the first time, that he was a real person and not just a stand-in teammate; not just a faceless extra.

He was one of those people who cared for her, in whatever way. She didn't know much about his personal life, or if he had any friends, or if he even had a family of his own—mainly because she hadn't bothered to listen before. He was always thoughtful of everyone around him, though, and did his best to provide help.

"How do you do it?" She spoke the words without thinking.

"Hm?" Kasuga glanced around the minimally-decorated sitting room, as if to confirm that she was speaking to someone else. No, he was the only one present. He smiled uncertainly, confused. "How do I do what?"

"Care about everyone so much." There was an awkward pause. Namie leaned a shoulder against the open doorway that separated the entry hallway and the living room, and crossed her arms. "I mean, it's pretty obvious you do. Even towards total strangers. Like that guard at the mansions. The one—the one you tried to help." It was difficult bringing that topic up, considering all that had happened for the entire team.

A somber, slightly guilty expression overtook the boy's face. "I just…I just do." It wasn't a lie, or an attempt at dodging the subject. It was simply in his nature, and how could one explain that they'd been born that way when it was something so personal they could barely grasp the idea themselves? He did care for every living thing—he cared a great deal—and that was why he'd taken to studying medical techniques. To help them. It had always been something inherent for him. But, actually putting that feeling into words was another matter…

Probably, he figured, it was something similar to how Namie had acted quickly to save Kakashi from harm when that enemy bandit attacked, never stopping to think and only moving to do the right thing—_because_ it was the right thing to do. "But—I guess that seems like a pretty weak answer. Sorry, Namie. I don't know how else to say it."

Namie continued to watch her teammate, trying to understand his words. Of course, some things were too complex to simply summarize—she knew that all too well. But, the important thing was that he was the way he was, and that needed no explanation. Certainly, she was able to care for the people close to her heart to the same extent, but if it involved someone she didn't know, she wasn't sure if the same would apply to them. Kasuga was just one of those pure-hearted humanitarians who thought of everyone as equal and would provide aid to them if the need came about. She never could understand those types.

The orange-haired boy shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable, and the girl realized her silence had stretched on for a good amount of time.

"Well, whatever the case is, you're really reliable, you know?" She smiled crookedly—a little discomfited—when he reacted with astonished, widened eyes and red cheeks. Complimenting people wasn't something she tended to do, after all, and it embarrassed her just as much as the one being praised.

"Thank you." The words Kasuga uttered in response were just as shocking. At least he gracefully accepted the words. He was quick to avoid an uncomfortable silence, however, and changed the subject. "Um, Namie, could you…?" He held out the medicine bottle imploringly. She was still standing in the hallway, lost in her thoughts.

"Right, right." Another grin crossed her face as she followed after him and took a seat on the low table set in front of the couch. Then, as he asked, she held out one of her arms—which looked a lot more scratched up than she'd previously thought.

She _definitely _wouldn't be summoning anything anytime soon.

* * *

"Took you long enough—" Hiroto's griping came to a quick end when he noticed the blonde genin of his team was plastered all over her arms and face with small bandaids and gauze.

He hadn't even left the team alone for twenty-four hours, and one already looked as if she'd lost a fight to an alley cat. Another had been lazing around at a tea shop and the other was wasting his time walking dogs. None of them had been training at all, which he'd decided to quickly remedy. Even though their mission had come to an end the day before, an entire night of sleep was all he was willing to give them in the form of a rest period.

"Not a word, Sensei," Namie groaned, scratching irately at one of the bandages near her chin. That antiseptic Kasuga applied had burnt something awful and it still prickled slightly. And it was itchy.

Kakashi was polishing a kunai nearby, largely ignoring the rest of the team.

"Right." Hiroto cleared his throat. "Now that you two have decided to join us, we'll get down to business." He reached into his back storage pouch and produced four slips of paper, holding them like fanned out playing cards in his hand. "Do you know what these are?"

Namie pursed her lips. They looked vaguely familiar, but at the same time they were just blank pieces of paper. They didn't look particularly unique.

Kasuga looked equally as puzzled.

Kakashi sighed and nodded. "Specialized paper used to test chakra affinities."

"That's right. I'm going to go out on a limb and say none of you have any idea what chakra nature you possess, right? Except for maybe Kakashi-kun."

"I know mine," the silver-haired boy confirmed.

Hiroto nodded. "Good. Then demonstrate how the test works." He proffered the slips of paper towards the young boy.

Kakashi accepted one of the papers and held it between his fingertips, then, a moment later, sparked a bit of his chakra into it. Several wrinkles creased the surface almost instantly. "My affinity is lightning." He shrugged, as if what he'd done was nothing special, but Namie swore he was smirking.

"I bet your dad's proud," she couldn't help but jab, pressing her lips together to keep from smirking herself. His only response was a flat, tasteless stare. Either way, it _was_ impressive to see the test up close in person. Now that it was obvious what the papers represented, she could recall the time they'd been utilized in the series.

Hiroto ignored their bickering and distributed the rest of the papers, keeping one for himself. "Kakashi-kun's nature is lightning," he confirmed. "That's what it means when the paper crinkles. There are four more types to consider, that you two could quite possibly possess. Fire," he held up his own slip and applied a burst of chakra, which resulted in the paper flaring up and crumbling to ash. "Does this—and it's my original nature affinity, though I can also handle earth." He shook the ashes off of his glove before continuing. "Then with wind, the paper would be cut in half. With earth, the paper will become dust. With water, as expected, the paper will dampen and soak through. It's pretty self-explanatory. All you have to do is channel a bit of your chakra into the test paper to find out. Now you two try."

Kasuga stared down at the paper for a moment before obeying. Namie watched as the note soaked through and collapsed onto his hand as a wet glob. A small smile crossed his face. "Water, then?"

The blonde stared at her own paper and quickly sparked her chakra, only to feel slightly disappointed when the object disintegrated in her hold. "Earth?" The edge of her upper lip rose in disgust as her nose crinkled. How boring. Of all the nature transformations possible, she'd hoped for something a bit more exciting. Like maybe wind, or water. Maybe even fire.

Hiroto couldn't help but smirk at their responses. "Interesting. Do you all know the order in which these natures work? As in, which are weak to what?"

Namie nodded, expression still pinched in displeasure. She'd read up on chakra natures before, and with the way charts were presented, it wasn't all that difficult to remember. "As far as mine goes, I'm weakest to Kakashi-kun but have an advantage against Kasuga-kun."

"Then I'm weak against Namie and strongest against fire," Kasuga explained.

Kakashi contributed as well. "And I'm weak against wind and strongest against earth."

"Correct. The team is well-balanced in that respect. Then, have any of you ever performed any nature release techniques before?" The jounin eyed them all curiously, pleased at their knowledge on the matter. His question was met with a negative from all three. "Perfect." An unsettling grin rose to his lips. "I get to train each of you with at least one technique of your respective natures, then." He placed his gloved hands on his hips as he glanced towards the sky thoughtfully, clearly trying to decide on what to teach. "Now, which ones should I pick…"

"You mean we don't get to choose for ourselves?" Namie's excitement dropped even further. Not only would this team training unit postpone the planned studying with Taji and working on developing a personal technique, as well as any potential sparring with Minato, but now Hiroto had reign over the techniques they were to learn—and they most likely would be far from enjoyable.

He waved a hand dismissively. "No way. You'd all choose something crazy, so I'm restricting it to D or C-rank. Once you all become proficient enough, feel free to learn whatever on your own." Hiroto studied them all carefully, considering his options, before reaching a decision. "For Kasuga-kun, we'll go with the C-ranked Water Clone. For Namie-chan, the D-ranked Double Suicide Decapitation Technique. And for Kakashi-kun, a C-ranked variant of the Lightning Surge Technique."

Namie shrugged. It was better than having to work with a jutsu where she had to spit mud from her mouth. Actually, no matter _what_ the chakra nature was, she wanted to avoid puking up any jutsus for as long as she could. It never did look very appealing…

"Keep the names in mind and do some research. Learn the hand seals. I have to do a bit of reading myself on the best way to teach the specifics to each of you, so we'll leave it at that for today. Tomorrow, we'll meet at this same field at 0900 hours."

"Yes, Hiroto-sensei." Team One replied together, customarily, as their meeting was concluded.

* * *

After two tireless weeks of struggling through the technicalities of balancing chakra output for techniques while still maintaining a decent storage for later usage, as well as navigating their respective chakra natures, Team One was finally able to reach a point where their assigned jutsus were starting to resemble actual, useful skills.

Kasuga studiously circled the wobbly-looking, opaque doppelgänger whose appearance only vaguely resembled his own—if he were made of pudding. While the outfit was similar and the physical appearance was of relative likeness, the consistency of the clone was still lacking. It should resemble him exactly, without any flaws, yet the current difference was clear from a mile away.

The medic sighed and prodded lightly at the clone with a slightly morose expression. "I didn't think it would be so hard. Regular clones are so much easier to make..." The clone wiggled. "Shaping an element into something is really hard, but that's expected I guess."

"It's not that bad. At least it's better than that creepy, formless effigy you started out with the first time," Namie commented dryly, shuddering at the memory. Its pale, transparent face had been hollow and frozen in a silent scream not unlike a certain artwork of the same name. She aimed a half-hearted, low kick at the failed clone's boneless shin and watched apathetically as it toppled in on itself as a useless puddle of water.

Honestly, she would have preferred handling such a technique. Learning how to adapt to the strange, suffocating feeling of working through the earth and moving underground with the Decapitation jutsu took some getting used to.

It wasn't as bad as it initially sounded (that is, if she didn't count the first time she performed the technique and ended up getting stuck a few inches underground until her teacher pulled her free—which she would never, ever speak of _again_). Engaging an earth-release technique allowed the soil to become malleable for whatever purpose that was desired, and, in truth, moving underground was startlingly similar to swimming through water. She could move however she wished with only minimal resistance, but unlike being underwater, there was no need to hold her breath. There was also no issue of floating or sinking while in the dirt until she made a conscious move and she controlled the direction.

The worst part of it was coming up for an ambush and being covered pretty much head-to-toe in a layer of topsoil. She didn't know how they'd made it seem so clean and seamless in the series, but was extremely offended that it couldn't happen as perfectly and neatly as that in reality.

In regards to the actual technique, however, timing was everything. If she was a moment too quick or too late in ambushing her enemy, it would fail. It wasn't exactly easy to see above ground while she was lurking in the dirt, either, so it was necessary to pinpoint locations and pay close attention to footsteps echoing in the earth to determine an attack point. Speed was a vital aspect of the jutsu, especially when she faced someone capable of performing lightning release skills. If she automatically had a disadvantage, she could correct that with some quick acting.

But when the technique succeeded and she was able to pull one of her teammates underground up to their necks, it was a tremendously satisfying sight.

Kasuga had become extremely wary of her during their matches because of it. Kakashi—whom she'd only managed to catch once, since his lightning enabled him to easily nullify the ground jutsu and break free—was more irritated than cautious. She could only imagine his pride was wounded by losing to her once.

_His_ lightning release technique, however… was an incredible pain in the ass.

It was nowhere near the raikiri's level, naturally, and the voltage wasn't even particularly painful. She could only liken it to a considerably strong and biting static shock. At its current status, it wasn't even efficient enough to stun—only to momentarily cause an opponent to falter and flinch from the sting and sharp crackling sound that accompanied it. Still, having an electric current, however minor, course through her body was far from pleasant.

As far as the Lightning Surge jutsu was concerned, Kakashi could only execute the technique when his hand was in contact with a physical surface to act as the conductor. That included anything from the ground itself (which was considerably advantageous against multiple opponents since, as long as their feet were touching the earth, the current would extend to them, within a certain range) to a person's body—or, rather, as Namie had experienced firsthand, a person's _face._

She was still extremely bitter about that even if he claimed it was an accident (and he'd had the _nerve_ to laugh at her frizzed-out hair that resulted from it).

Kasuga pursed his lips as he set his hands together in the seal of the Tiger. "Well, time to try again…"

"You're only allowed to try it three times a day, right?" Namie mused, recalling that Hiroto had limited their technique usage recently—three was the magic number. It wasn't necessary to put a particularly high concentration of chakra into the nature release jutsus when they were only training with them, but on days where they used the techniques in sparring matches, they were restricted to using them only once, and at full capacity. Though, sparring matches had only occurred twice during the past week.

The constraint was for Kasuga's sake, she realized. He always ended up looking more frayed and exhausted at the end of their training sessions compared to everyone else, which meant his chakra stores were the lowest. It was hard to tell before, since he'd always focused his chakra towards medical jutsu, which he was able to manage well. Though, it was no wonder he'd never fully healed injuries now that this fact was apparent. He used the least amount of chakra possible and combined his healing skills with manual medical knowledge as well, in order to remain useful as a medic for as long as possible. And while conserving his chakra in the same respect, he would also be able to spare some for ninjutsu.

"Mhm. This is the last time for today," the medic nodded. "At this rate, I'll finally have it down properly by tomorrow. Then I can finally use the technique in a sparring match." A wistful smile crossed his face. Before, his freakily-malformed clones-in-the-making had been used to catch his teammates off-guard. He had an awful knack for making the clones pop up at the most inopportune moments for his opponents…

Even when he was at a disadvantage, he was scarily talented at making the best of the situation. If his personality were the mean type, she was certain she wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his intellect. Even if his physical skills were still somewhat lacking.

Namie turned towards the other side of the training field, where Hiroto and Kakashi were collaborating. He'd worked with them all equally, though Namie found that her D-rank technique was ranked so low for a reason, as it was easy to work with, and Kasuga needed very little intervention once he'd managed to conjure something tangible and semi-solid in form.

Apparently, their sensei wasn't pleased with the attack power of the lightning release jutsu and he was working with the silver-haired boy to correct this. She wished he wouldn't. If Kakashi managed to channel a current that was even remotely harmful, she wasn't getting within an entire kilometer's reach of his range.

* * *

Three more weeks passed before the three genin were able to fully master their assigned techniques in practice.

Kasuga's water clone was a perfect, self-ruling replica.

Namie had increased her speed to shrink the timeframe between the moment she activated the Decapitation jutsu and the time she reached up to snag her opponent in ambush.

Kakashi succeeded in developing a consistent, almost excruciating, voltage rate for his Lightning Surge technique that would doubtlessly temporarily incapacitate an unfortunate opponent who received the full brunt of the attack.

"You've all come along surprisingly well," Hiroto praised the team, though his voice sounded as unimpressed as ever. "Well enough, at least." He briefly glanced over the group that sat before him. "Now that you've familiarized yourselves with the techniques and seen them in action, do you have any idea why I chose each specific one for this team?"

The trio considered his words, falling into a contemplative silence.

"I'm guessing it has to do with teamwork. You did say we were all balanced with our nature affinities," Kakashi provided.

Namie spoke up next. "He's right. If we all combined these new ninjutsu together against enemies, it would work well in our favor."

Kasuga's eyes widened as the realization clicked into place. "Diversion, ambush, and a strong final blow. That's how our techniques can work in junction." His water clones, which had more substance than a basic clone, could be used to distract foes. Then, once they were destroyed and dampened the ground to serve as a location marker, Namie could use her earth release jutsu to ambush the enemy and pull them underground. Then, while they were stuck, Kakashi's Lightning Surge could be invoked to knock them out cold. Or, in another scenario, Kasuga and Namie could team up and do the same while Kakashi handled another opponent. Several formations ran through the medic's head. Of course, they would have to remain cautious of their enemies' affinities as well. He took all of this into account.

The dark-haired jounin smirked and slowly rose to his feet. "Good. Very good. But knowing that is far from being able to utilize it in battle. The next part of your training is mastering that and being able to take me down with your combined ninjutsu. If you think you _can_." They still hadn't yet succeeded in subduing him. And he had a tendency to rub that in their noses.

The team followed suit and readied themselves for the upcoming spar.

Even if it seemed impossible, they would gain a victory eventually. They were a stubborn bunch who didn't give up, after all.

* * *

**A/N: **I had to kind of make up a jutsu for Kakashi since most lightning release skills are too advanced for a genin or character-specific, but its name and idea is based on the Lightning Surge/Telegram Flash from the anime. I've never actually seen it in action but since it's non-canon anyway I took...creative liberty. And I'm not entirely sure about the way I've described the other techniques but I hope it makes sense somehow.

Oh, about Second Hokage's Shadow Clone and Hiraishin techniques—apparently neither are forbidden. I looked into it again and I'm not quite sure where that notion came from (maybe fanfiction or misremembering?). Rather, it's the Multiple Shadow Clone derivative technique that's the forbidden one—the regular one is only a B-rank technique and hardly forbidden. And I couldn't find mention of Hiraishin being forbidden in canon, either, so I'm going to edit the mention of that in chapter 22 to being "restricted" rather than "forbidden" to prevent confusion, since it's still an S-rank jutsu.

Thank you thank you thank you for all reads/faves/follows! And special thanks to these great reviewers:** milpld, Bananarock509, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, littlemelonatplay, Flammeous, coronadomontes, Redleafs16, Counting Sinful Stars, Kasuke. Hagase, Wings of Hope, Chocogirl24, Abundant E,** **Madam. - . - . Rosetta**, and **SilverRider09**.

Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth).


	24. Twenty-One: Growth, Bonding

Team One was…for the lack of a better word, _interesting,_ Hiroto mused as he observed his three genin. They were currently engaged in a group huddle, planning out their next mode of attack against him.

He had been aware they would be an odd bunch when he took them under his tutelage, and he'd also been expectant of their aversion to each other. What he _hadn't_ expected was for that repulsion to act as a catalyst in their teamwork. Because, despite their bratty interactions—rather, due to that exactly—they played off of each other's strengths and weaknesses phenomenally.

Namie and Kakashi constantly tried to outdo one another and gain leverage in an immature game of anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better (he suspected it was the age gap that prompted that behavior) like irritated siblings, which gave them a particular motivation in learning, while Kasuga remained as something of a parental figure who served well to mediate their disputes, and, whenever he intervened, they listened without question because it went without saying that he was clever and they trusted his words. Though, his presence was largely ignored when their cooperation was unneeded. He provided the team a considerable amount of care regardless, and at times Hiroto wished the boy would focus more on himself. Once teamwork training was complete and individual learning became the emphasis, he would lead the boy to understand that caring for his own well-being was also an important part of being on a team.

However, they were able to separate themselves from these differences when the situation called for it, and to behave professionally in the face of danger. They were a great match—better than he could have hoped for. Hiroto had been nothing less than impressed by the way they worked together during their first C-rank mission, from the very first day to the last.

The three genin had grown considerably from day one to where they stood now. Certainly, they still had much room to grow beyond that, but for now they were doing just fine.

In fact…he might even go so far as to say that he was a little proud of them—but not aloud, of course.

They had a knack for coming up with plans that seemed outwardly straightforward and predictable but ended up surprising him at the last second and catching him off-guard with clever little twists and turns. That was another asset of combining their minds. Of course, it was nothing a little thinking on his feet couldn't overcome, but for slower-reacting opponents it was advantageous.

As soon as the trio determined their plan of action and body-flickered apart, disappearing from the jounin's immediate field of vision in the grassy clearing, Hiroto knew to be prepared for anything. Check the sky for an aerial ambush—Kakashi had tried it once before; survey the ground for discrepancies—at first, Namie hadn't moved deeply enough below the earth and left telltale signs of her presence; scan the entire area for Kasuga, who tended to go for his less obvious blind spots. He'd upped their respective chakra natured ninjutsu usage to two for sparring matches after another month had passed and they'd proven worthy, and this was the first time it would be implemented.

It was a little exciting to discover what they'd come up with this time, given new resources.

There was a hint of movement—the vague sound of a sandal scuffing into the ground—behind him. It was Kasuga. He was the noisiest one who sometimes forgot to fully conceal his presence for an ambush. As for whether or not it was a water clone…

The ANBU-trained shinobi swiftly spun to face his student, swinging his staff along with the motion to catch the boy in the side and push him away or terminate the jutsu, yet the sight of a much shorter, silver-haired boy standing where the medic should have been had him faltering—if only briefly. Kakashi had his hand outstretched, prepared to utilize the Lightning Surge technique with his metal staff as the conductor, yet at the last moment, Hiroto retracted the weapon and stepped back, out of reach. Only, as soon as he moved, he became aware of the near-instantaneous movement beneath his feet. This time, Kakashi had acted as the diversion in order to push him back, towards the area Namie lurked underground for the true ambush.

The dry earth cracked and, in less than a second, a small, bandaged hand broke through, reaching for his ankle. If he hadn't expected the attack, she would have snagged him. However, this realization allowed him to evade by leaping backwards into the air towards the surrounding forest and putting a safe amount of distance between both of the students' jutsus' reaches, much to their displeasure.

He took a moment to smirk at the heated glares of failure they sent his way, yet the faint feeling of a wire pressing against his lower calf when he returned to the ground alerted him of his third student's presence. The thin wire snapped upon contact, releasing a volley of kunai from the treetops a little ways behind him—all attached to exploding tags.

'_So this was the real ambush,'_ Hiroto mused, crouching down to evade the knives' immediate range and running through a series of hand seals before creating a thick wall of dirt between himself and the weapons to absorb the brunt of the multiple explosions. _'They switched roles. Not bad. Not great, but definitely not a bad plan.'_ There was little time to evaluate their tactics, however. Almost as soon as he'd used the earth-style jutsu in the form of defense, several shuriken whirred through the air around him—tied by wires, which seemed to have become a common shtick among the team. Using kunai paired with wire seemed more practical, but if they had a way that worked, he wouldn't stifle their creativity. And damn it all if they weren't _quick_ with their subsequent attacks. Clearly, their intent was to bind him to the wall, using his own technique against him, and they would have succeeded if he hadn't chosen to replace himself with a nearby tree stump.

This was the first time they'd had him on the run for so long.

'_Maybe their plan isn't so bad after all,'_ the jounin ceded mentally as he crouched, hidden, among the treetops a good distance away from the team. They were all within his sights. Kasuga (or what could have quite possibly been Kasuga's clone, while the boy remained hidden and observed), Kakashi, and Namie stood nearby, not quite together, and all cautiously examined the forest for signs of their sensei. There was only the briefest exchange of words between them, and—

His hand brushed something along the tree branch, cleverly twisted and hidden between the twigs and foliage, invisible to the eye.

Again with the wire—though he hadn't grazed it enough to set off whatever trap the three had formulated.

Only, that's what he'd expected. The sunlight gleamed off of something held securely in the blonde's hand, and, with a start he realized it was also wire. An instant later, the trio's eyes zeroed in on his location.

No. It wasn't one of their beloved wire traps. It was a perimeter they'd set up—or, more probably, one Kasuga had constructed with the aid of his water clone while he'd been distracted fighting Namie and Kakashi. He'd expected the boy to use the clone technique for open diversions and support with frontal attacks—not like_ this_, though he knew to expect anything from these three.

Hiroto watched as the silver-haired boy retrieved something from his weapons pouch and then threw it onto the ground. A cloud of dense smoke unfurled and enveloped Team One, shielding them from the teacher's gaze.

They were coming for hm.

A roguish grin rose to the jounin's face as he anticipated his team's joint attack. This time, they'd amused him with surprise after surprise, and his expectations were high for whatever else they had up their sleeves.

A kunai—only a single kunai, without any wire or tags visibly attached—pierced the bark near his shoes. It was only when he examined it closer that he spotted the exploding tag wrapped around the blade's hilt. He wasted no time in dashing away from the tree and alighting on another to remain concealed among the leaves, though the timing of the explosion was off. Mainly because there _was_ no explosion. It was a trick.

"Sneaky brats," Hiroto cursed, eyes darting frantically to determine their locations. Nervous? No, they didn't have him unsettled, not one bit. But there was definitely a reason they wanted him to move, and—a grimace crossed his face as he peered towards the ground, to the base of the tree.

There stood a smug-looking Kakashi, whose hand was sparking with electricity and only millimeters away from making contact with the bark.

Right. Even trees weren't safe when that lightning release technique was involved.

Hiroto kicked away from the tree, scarcely avoiding the electric shock, and returned to the ground with a sigh. This was the predictable part—Namie's domain was the earth, so she would be waiting to catch him by surprise and trap him underground. Though, she couldn't know where he would land, just from that.

A shadow closing in from above alerted him of the next assault. He threw up his arm to grab the kunai-wielding hand, which belonged to Kasuga, and disarmed the orange-haired boy before tossing him away. He landed on his feet with a grimace, and at the same time, the owner of the clone flung a series of shuriken from behind Hiroto.

The man backflipped to avoid the blades, but this second attack gave the clone time to recover and join his counterpart in a double-team effort.

Only, then a_ third_ copy of Kasuga appeared and Hiroto instantly realized his mistake as they confronted him, crouching defensively.

One, or at most two, of these could have been Kakashi and Namie using the transformation jutsu to conceal their presence and confuse him.

But then, Kakashi appeared to join them, diminishing the possibilities to one.

The Kasuga on the left quickly recited a series of hand seals—familiar ones for use with Namie's technique that broke the illusion and revealed her true identity—but the moment she completed the seals to unleash the technique, the clone disappeared. Not in the way it would have happened for the earth release technique, either—it simply vanished, catching him off guard. It was another trick.

Something metallic caught his eye and he was forced to turn and quickly draw his staff to deflect one of the Kasugas' second armed attack.

Only, the moment he planted his foot firmly in the ground to perform his counterattack, a hand shot through the earth and grasped his leg tightly, preparing to bury him.

She'd been lying in wait the entire time.

The most Namie could manage with her current strength was to entomb him up to his waist at most, leaving his arms free, but it was enough to stall, and by the smirk on the girl's face it was satisfactory enough for her.

Hiroto pressed his hands against the dirt, digging his fingers into the ground and preparing to pull himself free, but the sight of Kakashi preparing to slam his hand to the ground nearby, within the range of the Lightning Surge, had him momentarily stunned.

Hadn't the boy already used the technique twice—? They _knew_ it was an automatic forfeit if they attempted to surpass the given limit. Kakashi had recently unleashed the lightning release technique, and had also used it in the first few moments of the match—no. That wasn't right. He hadn't engaged the jutsu then, only threatened with it. Or, had he performed the hand signs after all? He couldn't be certain.

Whatever the case, if this attack connected, it would be his first loss.

That, _and_ he would get electrocuted. Not fatally, but it was still a nuisance and it would definitely wound his pride.

Actually, if he lost, no matter how he lost, it would be a huge blow to his ego.

Hiroto acted quickly, focusing his chakra and twisting his hands together in a flurry of seals, and an instant later the ground that contained him and surrounded him rose skyward in a solid column, distancing him from Kakashi's attack range. He freed himself from the crumbling dirt and stood atop the pillar, surveying his three students from above. As he'd limited their technique usage, he'd also given himself a handicap as being able to utilize a release jutsu only once—and this was it. "Nice try," he murmured, stroking his chin, before leaping towards the ground to face his students head-on. Namie was no longer an underground threat, since she'd used up her jutsu quota.

Right before his eyes, one of the Kasugas shifted into Kakashi, one melted into a useless puddle, and the Kakashi who he'd thought to be Kakashi transformed into the real Kasuga.

_It had all been a huge bluff._

Then, that meant Kakashi had also reached his limit and their plan had failed.

All three of the genin looked exhausted, on the verge of giving up, but their determined expressions never faltered. They had him surrounded, armed with kunai, yet with their level of energy he hardly deemed them a threat.

"_Stop_," Hiroto raised his hand authoritatively and whatever pending attacks they planned were immediately halted. "This match is over." It would hardly do to work them into exhaustion and if they continued, that would definitely happen.

"I told you it wouldn't work, daddy's boy." Namie dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged, and folded her arms across her chest, looking bitter. She immediately turned her displeasure to her teammate. They'd tried so _hard_ and they'd been so close to securing a victory, yet they lost it at the last minute.

"Well, it was all we had to work with," Kakashi shot back, frustrated. "And_ you_ didn't have any better ideas."

"I think it would have worked pretty well if we took Hiroto-sensei's jutsu skills into account," Kasuga eased in, just as Namie reached aggressively towards Kakashi, who stepped away, though the girl retreated and returned to her seat once she heard him speak. "There's no need to blame anyone, and…w-well…it was my plan, too, partially…" He fidgeted a bit before lowering himself to the ground to sit, clearly drained from the fight.

"Yeah, so if you're gonna complain, take it up with him, _flea girl._" The silver-haired boy turned his head away as he sank to the grass as well, looking defeated and a little miffed. Kasuga turned a sheepish glance towards the blonde girl, anticipating her rage. But before she could open her mouth, their teacher interrupted them once again.

"Stop means stop_ all_ fighting. Don't take it out on anyone. I don't want to hear it right now." Hiroto waited until the trio turned their attention to him before continuing. "Your tactics were…clever, if anything. There's no reason to be upset. In fact, speaking honestly, this was your best teamwork to date." If only they could maintain that same ethic when interacting outside of battle, instead of keeping up that bratty, bickering attitude. "However, a lot of what you did only worked because it was _me_ you were dealing with. There's still a few things I would have done differently if I were in your position." It was a bit ridiculous that they were upset over this loss, over all of the others. He _was_ a jounin, after all—did they really expect to be able to beat him so soon?

Maybe it was just the exceptionally talented kids that were arrogant like that.

"I think it would be more beneficial right now for you to fight against other genin, around the same age and level as you. I've talked with a couple of other instructors who've trained their students with nature release techniques, and they agreed to do some inter-team sparring. This will cover more group training as well as individual work."

Namie pursed her lips, unimpressed. "So it's like a fake chuunin exam?"

"You could say that. The chuunin exam offers decent training against peers as well, but you three are hardly even close to prepared for that kind of dangerous thing."

"I beg to differ," Kakashi contradicted sharply, mood still unpleasant.

Kasuga was the only one who remained silent, completely put off by his teammates' challenging behavior.

They were two exceptionally sore losers.

Hiroto was equally uninterested. "Oh, you think? I'll tell you what, Kakashi-kun, if you beat me one-on-one right now, I'll let you sign up for the upcoming chuunin exam. Deal?" He expected Namie to cut in with a witty remark of her own, but she wisely—for once—held her tongue. The silver-haired boy had the decency to look a bit ashamed and shrank back. "Right. Inter-team training it is. We'll meet at this same training ground in two days, at noon. Until then, get some rest so you'll be in top shape."

* * *

"Um—you're not mad, are you? Namie?"

From the training grounds, Namie and Kasuga usually took the same route back into town and towards their homes. Kakashi did as well, but he wasted no time in separating from the group as soon as they were dismissed that day, still prickly and irritated.

"No, just a little disappointed. Why?" The blonde rolled her shoulders, working out the kinks from that day's fight. She definitely needed to increase her strength—if she'd managed to perform the jutsu properly and bury their sensei up to his neck in dirt, they probably would have had a better chance at winning. The road to becoming a powerful and productive shinobi was a long one, and she was impatient to reach her goal.

She knew it took time. She_ knew_ that. There were no shortcuts or loopholes, because this wasn't a shounen manga; because even though her chakra stores were higher than what was normal, they were far from a jounin's, or even an Uzumaki's, level. Especially considering they were usually trained and disciplined in the ninja arts and knew how to handle that power. For her, it was like having a lot of something and not quite knowing what to do with it. _All _of her skills were lacking when compared to seasoned professionals and it was a bitter pill to swallow, but if she continued working steadily at it, progress would be made. Even Hiroto had pointed it out by subtly praising the team's efforts—the fact that he went out of his way to do that at all meant they were improving already.

It would just take time, and while the countdown was a pressing issue in itself, Namie was well aware there was still ample time for her to improve.

"O-oh, no reason! That's…I'm disappointed, too. But when I think about it, we never really were all that close to defeating Hiroto-sensei. He's always a few steps ahead of us." A wistful smile crossed the medic's face. "Jounins are amazing, aren't they…?"

"Yeah, I guess. But we'll get there one day, too," she replied vaguely, only half-listening to her teammate and focusing on her own thoughts instead.

It wasn't that she found Kasuga irritating or annoying, because the truth was far from it. She'd been making the effort to listen to him a little more lately and find a way to humanize him and find similarities that she could relate to, and she planned to do the same with her Academy friends.

It was easier to start with the orange-haired boy, though, because they were almost always in constant contact with team training. He was useful, reliable, and…calming. There was a sense of permanence and stability about him, and since they were a part of Team One, she suspected they would be teammates for quite a while, with or without Kakashi.

She was beginning to recognize and acknowledge him as a real being—an authentic ten-year-old (or was it closer to eleven since he was a year above her in school? She had yet to ask his birthday) child in this world.

It certainly helped that he wasn't bratty or selfish like most of the other children she'd encountered, but rather mature.

And on the topic of bratty children, one was headed their way.

"Hey—it's you, Strawhead! Long time no see!"

Maybe she should have avoided the village's main streets.

Inuzuka Toboe jogged towards the two teammates with Suzume in tow. Probably, they'd just come from a studying session or were heading to one. The next genin exam was soon, she knew, and they were at the age where Yuuichi or one of the other teachers would encourage them to participate.

This was the first time Namie encountered any of her friends since she'd graduated, yet she wasn't feeling particularly chummy because of the day's events. Especially when the ninken user started slinging her old, childish nickname around.

It would become a pain if others started addressing her that way, too—it was bad enough that Kakashi still had the gall to call her _flea girl_ (which was also partially Toboe's fault).

"Inuzuka. Suzu-chan." Her greeting was deadpan and unenthused, the polar opposite of her two former classmates. Even the brunette girl's eyes brightened slightly at the sight of the blonde.

Or maybe it was the sight of her hitai-ate and genin gear that excited the girl. "In a way, you look professional now, Namie," Suzume smiled, though her words were carefully edged with derision. Namie had to wonder if she was taking a jab at her dirty, tattered appearance, but willfully ignored it. Taking sass from Kakashi was enough to deal with already. In contrast, Suzume was dressed up nicely, in her typical traditional wear. Her hair was tamed and pulled into a bun, as well.

"You look nice. Special occasion or something?" The blonde's eyes wandered meaningfully towards Toboe, who was as oblivious as ever, crouching down to call Kurocha over from across the street. She was surprised he hadn't jumped on the opportunity to challenge her—even if she was a genin, now. But, perhaps that was _exactly_ why he refrained.

Whatever the case, the sight of the cocoa-brown puppy was certainly uplifting. Namie was considerably happier to see the dog than her classmates.

"N-not particularly, really." The girl's face colored slightly as she pushed on the bridge of her glasses distractedly, averting her eyes and looking anywhere besides the russet-haired boy. Namie would have been inclined to tease her a bit more just for the amusing reactions, if she had less self-restraint. Mocking children about their innocent crushes was a line she knew better than to cross.

"Who's this guy?" Toboe returned to the conversation with Kurocha held safely in his arms. The dog had grown a little, and his once small, fluffy body was now a bit more filled out. He was from a small breed, so he wouldn't grow much more, but the change was apparent.

Namie glanced back at Kasuga, who had gone quiet when the others approached and hung back, behind Namie, as if he were trying to remain out of sight. "One of my teammates. Kasuga-kun?"

"U-Ueno Kasu-Kasuga," he introduced with a stammer, smiling nervously.

Oh. He wasn't very good at speaking with people he first met, she recalled. It had taken him a while to become properly coherent on a regular basis with the team, too.

The blonde pushed a grin onto her face as she slung an arm across the medic's shoulders, forcing him to bend down and accommodate her shorter height. "Kasuga-kun here is pretty smart, you know? He's the team medic." She released her hold on the boy as she pointed out the two children in turn. "These are my school friends, dog—I mean, uh, _Toboe-kun,_ and Suzu-chan."

"Suzu_me_," the brunette corrected.

Toboe, on the other hand, ignored the blonde's unusual use of his name in favor of side-eyeing the slightly taller, orange-haired genin and getting up in his personal space. He hummed lowly, unimpressed. "Teammate, huh? Doesn't look like much."

"Don't be rude, dogbreath," Namie admonished, stepping forwards and setting her hands on her hips. "Oh, and by the way, you know _Hatake_ Kakashi is our other teammate? Bet you're jealous." A sly grin crossed her face as she cocked her head to the side.

"No way! You're totally lying, Strawhead!" Toboe also stepped towards the blonde with a mild glare. "What are the chances the White Fang's son would be on your team, seriously?! Even you said it was near impossible!"

The confrontation alarmed Kasuga, who also shuffled quietly forward and held his hands out to calm the two, if only out of habit, before he pulled his arms back and scratched at the knot of his bandana awkwardly. It seemed Namie had trouble getting along with others, no matter who they were. The girl—Suzume—seemed accustomed to their heated exchange and merely looked on, unamused, making no move to stop it.

"I wouldn't lie about that. Right, Kasuga-kun?" A grin was sent his way.

She had no problem drawing him into her petty quarrels, as usual. "U-um, Namie's right. Kakashi-kun is…is our third team member."

"Hmph. How come you guys are all buddy-buddy? He doesn't use honorifics with you," the Inuzuka observed with a scoff, shifting his arms to get a better grip on the puppy, scowling at the two genin standing before him. "Is he your _boyfriend_ or something?" he taunted, squinting his eyes.

Kasuga immediately made to refute the claim, waving his hands back and forth and shaking his head, flustered. Even Suzume sent her a curious gaze, eager to find the answer.

The blonde took a great show of rolling her eyes. _Kids._

"It's not that. You _know_ I generally don't like any honorifics tagged onto my name. The other guys all call me by my name only, even Suzu-chan does—she just _did. _ And you can, too, but you always use that stupid nickname instead." She reached out to pet Kurocha, but her classmate moved him out of reach, much to her displeasure. "Hey, are you tryin' to pick a fight?"

When his taunting had no effect, he wisely shrugged it off and desisted, realizing it wasn't the time or place to start conflict—a surprisingly mature decision. "No way, not today. Suzume-chan says we have to _study_," Toboe stated. One of his fangs poked out past his lip as he pouted and grudgingly handed over the canine, who was wiggling to get free and greet the girl—he still didn't understand why Kurocha liked her so much. "But once I pass as a genin, you can bet we're picking up right where we left off, Strawhead."

Namie immediately snuggled the small dog, missing the calming sensation of soft, musky animal fur, but the moment didn't last long. She shot a glare towards her russet-haired friend. "See, there you go again, calling me that. My hair doesn't even _look_ like straw anymore!"

"It…sometimes it does," Kasuga muttered from the sidelines, looking sheepish.

"What—I thought you were on my side, Kasuga-kun. I'm a little hurt."

"But he's right, you know. Your hair _is _somewhat spiky," Suzume contributed, as the three shared a grin and then burst into laughter.

"You're a bunch of jerks…" Namie grumbled, despite being unable to fight down the smile that pulled at her lips. She smoothed her bangs out of habit, noting they were a bit mussed, and joined in on the laughter as well.

The girl found that it was something of a relief to be a part of times like these, lighthearted and fun, never weighed down by duty and career. Toboe and Suzume were lucky, in a way, since they were free and unrestricted. They were still children, still innocent.

One day, and maybe one day soon, they would conform to the life of a shinobi and their hands would become stained with blood as well.

"I'm definitely gonna pay you back for that when you two become genin, so hurry up and qualify, alright?" Namie frowned, expression only playfully severe as she set Kurocha down and ruffled his fur once more before he hopped away to his owner.

"We will, we will. _Namie,_" Toboe mocked, sticking out his tongue. "Strawhead still sounds better."

Suzume tugged on Toboe's sleeve. "We have to get to studying. There's a test tomorrow." She aimed a slight smile at the genin. "It was nice seeing you, and meeting you, Kasuga-kun. I hope it's not too much to ask, but could you look out for Namie? She can be a little wild at times."

"Hey, you're not my mom—and neither is he!" She paused.'_Well, he sort of is, but that's not something we publicly acknowledge.'_

"No problem, I-I guess!" The group said their goodbyes and waved as they went their separate ways. Kasuga glanced back thoughtfully as they continued down the street. "Your friends are interesting. I'm…a little jealous."

Namie waved a dismissive hand. "Don't be. In fact, take 'em if you want 'em. But don't you have friends, too?"

"I don't... Only the neighborhood kids, but they're much younger and I'm more like a babysitter than anything to them." He paused and fell into a contemplative silence. "You and Kakashi-kun are the closest things I have to friends, really."

"You consider me a friend?" The blonde slowed her pace and cast a curious glance over her shoulder.

"Is—is that a bad thing?" Kasuga panicked, stopping in his tracks, face turning pink. "I said it without thinking, I hope it didn't offend you…I mean, being teammates is fine, too! Maybe 'friends' is a bit much." He smiled weakly, then, avoiding her eyes.

"No," Namie shook her head, stuffing her hands deep into her pockets and cringing slightly when her fingers brushed against the gritty dust gathered in the seams. "It's actually a good thing. Yeah, we're friends, Kasuga-kun." Much to her surprise, the sentiment was sincere.

Little by little, her small world continued to expand.

It just took time.

* * *

**A/N: **Not super happy with this chapter because it seems kinda bare-bones and not so pretty. Maybe not very exciting. But there it is!

About the pronunciation of Namie's name: it's **Nah-me-eh**, like Nami from One Piece just with "eh" as in "**e**cho" at the end. Like how the **e** in Sasuk**e**'s name goes? Hope that makes sense.

Thanks for all reads/faves/follows, and especially to you reviewers: **10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Counting Sinful Stars, coronadomontes, kenegi, impromptumelody95, **Madam. - . - . Rosetta,** Destrark, milpld, Redleafs16, Chocogirl24, Kasuke. Hagase, Abundant E,** and **little101**. Your feedback really keeps me going!

Review replies are in the usual place (kettobase on dreamwidth).


	25. Twenty-Two: Technique, Training

It was definitely too unlikely to hope that the resting period up until the practice matches against other genin in the village would guarantee actual _relaxing_, Namie realized as Taji woke her up at an unfairly early hour the next morning—but that was how it usually went. The fast-paced training with Team One had pushed it from her mind, but certainly, at one point she'd been eager to begin training with her adoptive mother and developing her new personal skill.

At long last, it was time to begin.

"Did we really have to start so soon in the day…?" Namie questioned with a wide yawn, barely able to complete her sentence as she glanced around the deserted training ground. It was a small one, one she'd never used before, and the number quite slipped her mind since she was too tired to care. Her joints still ached from the previous day's sparring match.

"It isn't _that _early, Namie," Taji comforted, smiling with some degree of amusement at the lazy display as she glanced towards the dim sky. The sun was barely over the horizon, and the morning dew was still slippery beneath their feet. Later, though, once the sun was high in the sky, it would bear down with a painful summer heat. She supposed it was better to work while they still had plenty of shade.

"You've woken up earlier for missions, so there's no reason to complain," a familiar voice groused from behind the blonde.

She immediately snapped to attention, if only out of habit, as she spun around to face her jounin instructor, who looked as crabby as ever. "Sensei? Inori-sensei said you weren't even slightly interested in helping me with this. What are you doing here?"

"Hiroto-kun," the brunette woman acknowledged coolly, and for a moment Namie was shocked by the stiff quality of her greeting. Taji was typically nothing less than polite and cordial.

"Taji-senpai." Hiroto's return was just as lackluster.

Namie grimaced as she stepped out of the line of fire, instantly identifying the unspoken tension present between the two. It wasn't the sexy kind of tension either, she noted, as if they'd once been involved and had a bad breakup but were still sort of attached to each other, or shared some unspoken attraction like the base plotline of a bad harlequin novel, no, it was downright _frosty_. Even the way they looked at each other was hostile.

The staring contest—or whatever kind of showdown it was—between them ended as the man blinked and directed his gaze towards the small genin. "That's right, I don't intend to help. But, for one, I'm here to get Taji-senpai up to speed on the issue." He reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a scroll, holding it out emphatically. "Inori's notes."

Taji allowed a forced smile to rise to her lips. "I _did_ discuss the matter with Inori-sensei before, you know."

"I'm aware. But it's always good to have the reference material present." His tone was no different than what Namie was used to, but perhaps there was a bit of underlying iciness thrown in. Taji held her hand out, palm facing upwards, and he tossed the scroll over with little care.

'_Yeesh, something's definitely up between these two and I don't really want to get in the middle of their shitstorm…' _Blue eyes shifted uneasily between the two older shinobi. They were both ANBU, she knew, so perhaps the issue stemmed from their training days. But they couldn't have been in the same unit—Taji was a few noticeable years his senior. At least, she assumed so. She never really did bother to ask the woman's age and she never volunteered the information. She only had an idea of Hiroto's age by extension to Inori, who mentioned his some few months after they'd first met, and if the two were former genin teammates, they had to have been around the same age. She had nothing solid to base this on just yet, but by the way Taji held her posture, she was clearly superior in rank or experience.

'_Then…could she…could Taji have been an overseeing officer to Hiroto in ANBU?'_

No. Maybe that wasn't quite it.

They were both ANBU, so Taji was well aware Hiroto was Monkey. Monkey had been the one keeping watch over her, both during Inori's sessions and under secret surveillance, so her guardian was no doubt aware of these things. Perhaps it was that she simply held a grudge against him for all he'd done. He _was_ the one who took her to the Hokage that day that nearly ruined her life, when Minato found out about the entire situation.

Hell, Namie was still a little pissed about that, too. Even if he was just doing his job.

Whatever their damage was, she couldn't be certain—and she was extremely reluctant to ask. But it was clear that tip-toeing around them would be beneficial.

Taji scanned the scrawling notes for a moment before glancing up sharply, as if she'd been ridiculed. "I can barely read this."

"And that's another reason I'm here. Inori's handwriting is almost impossible to interpret, but somehow I've gotten used to reading it," Hiroto explained. "However, the main reason I'm here is to observe—as your team teacher." He quickly tacked on the last words for clarification when the young girl's expression contorted in disbelief. Official observations had ended, after all, and there was no room for petty misunderstandings. "I think I have a right to monitor my student's progress."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Namie commented blandly, shrugging off the surprise. It made no difference to her, since he'd always been around to act as the observer anyway. "No problem—right, Taji?"

The medic also shrugged. "No, there's no problem with that. You're welcome to stay, Hiroto-kun." The sight of Namie seemed to pull her back to her senses, as her tone leveled out and became warmer once again.

"Right. I'll be over here, then." With an indifferent nod, Hiroto approached a nearby tree and slouched down onto one of the protruding roots, looking bored.

'_He could at _least_ pretend to look a little interested.' _The blonde cast her teacher a disapproving scowl before rolling her eyes and glancing up at Taji. "So how are we gonna start this? From what I understand, Inori-sensei seems to think it's possible to reject others' chakra externally with this…ability or whatever. Like a barrier or wall or something. I don't really get it just yet, but it sounds like I need to bring my chakra…outside."

"That's right, in a way. It does involve chakra. Not quite a barrier, though." Taji hummed and crossed her arms as she gazed downward in thought. "You need to learn acute precision, to be able to accumulate enough of your chakra for it to become visible. Then, you can mold it however you see fit. With practice, of course. That would be called _shape transformation._ Some medics utilize that method to create chakra scalpels for surgery. At first I was thinking it would be best to apply the type of training I went through as a medic to at least get your level of control up to par." She eyed her adoptive daughter. "You haven't yet attempted something like this, correct?"

Namie shook her head. The ability had only worked internally, before, and she'd never made any effort to focus enough of her chakra physically, like a medic—though, she had witnessed Taji's brightly-colored green chakra appear during healing. Naruto's Rasengan was of the same method, but as Minato had yet to develop the technique, she hadn't yet encountered the technical rules that went into the shape transformation of chakra. "Sounds difficult." She paused. "Does this mean I'm going to learn medical jutsu as well?"

Taji's eyes brightened. "I'd be happy to teach you, if you'd like!" The sound of Hiroto clearing his throat dramatically caused her to falter, and her expression soured. "But, first things first, this is for the development of your own technique."

"I already know how to control it for things like tree walking, water walking and whatnot," Namie cut in, careful to voice her own observations and keep her knowledge on the matter reasonable. "I remember that annoying leaf exercise, too. But chakra was never visible, not for those things. Not even with the techniques I've learned." She eyed the woman curiously. For medics, she recalled, they practiced control on live fish. At least, Sakura did under Tsunade's training. Yet, there were no fish in sight here. Not even a river. Since she wasn't learning healing skills, there must have been another way. Jiraiya had Naruto use a water balloon, but that was technique-specific training. She highly doubted the same could apply here.

"It's true that those activities are also used for chakra control practice. To accomplish a higher level of this in medic training, we medic-nin usually practice injecting a greater amount of chakra into the circulatory system of asphyxiated river fish to resuscitate them." Taji explained, as usual, in a bookish manner that would have had most normal children her age reeling. At the very least, it confirmed the girl's thoughts. "But, since this isn't the case for you, I've had to consult colleagues and mentors on the matter, and they helped come up with an alternative." She reached into the pack slung around her waist and extracted a second scroll. Instead of unrolling it and reading from it, however, she simply tacked it up to a low branch of the tree Hiroto sat beneath and then sent an expectant smile at Namie.

The girl could only stare. The scroll she'd hung up featured a strange, stippled ink design that Namie couldn't quite make heads or tails of from her position, but it resembled a target, in a way. "Uh…?" she questioned, setting one hand on her hip and shrugging, waiting for elaboration.

Taji's grin persisted. "I figured it would be best to start with something small and a little more relevant to your technique creation, so what _you'll_ be doing for your control training is forming a type of chakra thread, which also requires precision and extremely concentrated form, minus all of the other things that go into medic training. Does that sound doable?"

"Chakra threads? Like a puppeteer? I thought that was more common to Suna," she pointed out, having read something of that nature in the various books scattered around the house, not to mention the usage of them in Shippuden. "Can you do that, too, Taji?"

"Yes, Taji-senpai, can you?" Hiroto parroted, raising an eyebrow as he glanced up at the woman.

There was a very apparent—though quick—nerve twitch in the woman's cheek. "Well—no. _I_ can't, not personally. Though I did see it in action during the Second War. After poking around a few confiscated scrolls we gained from Sunagakure at one point and asking old teammates, I found that the idea behind the esoteric technique isn't impossible to implement in other skills. That's why I said you would be making a _type of_ chakra thread. It's not going to be the exact same, but it seems like a good way to get you started and making your chakra focused enough to become visible, as well as working at manipulating the shape. I guess there's no guarantee it will work out in the end," she sighed, looking a bit crestfallen.

Namie glanced down at her fingertips, wondering if she could manage such a thing. Naturally, she had no interest in puppetry or the particular usage of such threads, but she was hard up on any other suggestions to kickstart her development of the technique. Especially when her jounin sensei was sitting around in the peanut gallery being useless. "It's worth a shot."

The woman's shoulders sank in relief. "I knew you'd say that." Truly, she wanted to help in any way possible, as it seemed no one else had been eager to take the initiative, but there was only so far she could go, as a medic. Even so, she wanted to help Namie since she hadn't been able to do much before.

She…hadn't been there for her much over the past few years, either.

It had been her intention to become Namie's jounin instructor after she'd passed the genin exam, yet that opportunity was swiped away by her younger—and more talented, she grudgingly admitted—coworker, Sarutobi Hiroto.

The man always had a knack for taking whatever she had her eye on, and in a way, she was jealous. He'd snagged an ANBU captain promotion when it became available—the one _she'd_ been vying for—and she suspected it was nepotism that secured him the rise in rank because of his young age. He'd also been the one tasked with overseeing Namie during times of surveillance when she'd offered to be the one to handle that—even though it made logical sense for someone unrelated to the girl to undertake the duty, she couldn't help but feel jilted.

Probably, he'd spent more time around the girl than she did, and because of who he was, and what he had done, especially how he had caused Minato to discover Namie's situation when the girl had explicitly wished otherwise, Taji found that she couldn't quite forgive her peer. She'd even gone so far as to push aside her pride and ask a favor of the man, which he'd done a spectacular job of ignoring. They were like water and oil, but _he_ was the one at Namie's side.

This was all she could do, now.

She clapped her hands together, straightening her posture, and then gestured to the hanging scroll. "Your objective is to construct chakra filaments that will reach the dots on this scroll here. They should stick to the surface upon contact and then you should be able to move the paper when you've succeeded."

"I can't even see the dots," Namie muttered.

Taji laughed lightly. "You can move closer." She stepped a short meter or so away from where the scroll billowed in the wind and marked an X in the dirt with her shoe. "Distance doesn't matter at this point, since you probably won't make much progress, if any, at first." An apologetic smile was aimed at the girl when her expression fell in disappointment in response to the blunt words. "And I'm here to help, too, don't forget."

Namie approached the cross and stepped on it, still glancing towards her hands. It would probably be weird, seeing her chakra manifest visibly for the first time. And then, _feeling_ it and manipulating it, on top of that. She'd always been curious about that. "Alright. I'm going to try."

"Don't be offended if I move away to put a safe distance between us," Hiroto commented wryly.

"How badly could I mess something like this up...?" the girl retorted blandly, before facing the scroll with intense focus. At the same time, Taji shot the other jounin a reprimanding stare, to which he rolled his eyes and sighed quietly.

There was nothing difficult about manipulating chakra internally. That was the easiest part of learning new techniques, actually, once she'd grown accustomed to it. Tree walking? No problem. Regulation was child's play. Walking on water? No problem there, either. She'd only had the chance to apply it to puddles and shallow ponds before, but working with rippling water full of waves couldn't be any more difficult. But…focusing a sufficient amount to have it flare up outside the body? The only way to begin was to jump right in.

Namie held one of her hands up at the scroll and channeled her chakra flow towards her fingertips. She could feel it churning, moving like sludge, so she knew she'd sent it in the right direction. However, the space around her skin was empty.

She sighed and ceased the action. "Nothing's happening."

"It will. Just keep trying. It takes time," Taji assured.

_It takes time, _indeed. Halfway through the day, Namie was no closer to having her chakra appear around her hands than she'd ever been. The several attempts she'd braved were apparent: her bangs were matted to the sides of her face with sweat, which her hitai-ate did little to keep from dripping into her eyes, and her breath came in rasping wheezes. She was approaching the threshold of chakra exhaustion, if the pain in her arms was any indicator, but was careful to regulate her remaining storage. There was still enough to keep trying.

"Show me," the girl breathed, straightening up from her crouched, resting posture. "One more time, show me how it's done?"

"Are you sure? You shouldn't push yourself so much, Namie. I think it's time we take a break." Taji leaned down and patted the girl's damp face with a handkerchief she kept on hand, to which she reacted with half-hearted grumbles and pouting, pink cheeks but made no move to draw away. "You've been working straight through this whole time."

"The quicker I get this down, the quicker I can move on to the serious stuff." Namie's brow creased. Perhaps it had gone to her head when E-rank and D-rank techniques provided little obstacle in the learning curve. This training was on a different level. _'But Kasuga can do it,'_ she reasoned._ 'He's gained great control over his chakra in these past few months. If he can do it, I can, too.'_

Taji's eyebrows drew together sternly. "That doesn't mean you're allowed to work yourself into exhaustion." Her gumption was admirable—she didn't very much envy Hiroto having to deal with that. She knew as well as anyone else that the child could be troublingly stubborn. By the look on the man's face, it was clear he was close to intervening as well.

"Just one more time, Taji? Please? Then I'll take a break right after."

The two stared at each other evenly, neither backing down. But, as always, the woman folded under the girl's solid determination. "Fine. Here, watch closely." Taji held her hands out, and a second later, a soft green glow weakly outlined them. That was step one—the initial stage of the training that Namie was having so much difficulty with. It was unreasonable to expect leaps and bounds of progress within the first few hours of practice, but the child did have startlingly high expectations at times.

"I'm not using much chakra now, but it's of a high enough concentration that it's able to be seen. Something like this is second nature to me, since my medic-nin skills are needed at any given time. But I wasn't always able to control it so well, not at first. It just takes time. And patience." The glow subsided.

"What do you think about when you want to focus so much chakra in one place?" the girl questioned seriously.

"What do I think about? I think about helping people. Saving lives." Her response didn't even require a moment to think. It was automatic.

"I see." Namie held her hands out again, eyes narrowing in concentration. Then, her goal was similar. She would focus all of her energy on the thought of being of use to her precious people. Preventing their deaths… Her expression continued to twist as she attempted to apply more chakra towards the tenketsu points in her hands, but as soon as she increased the output, a sharp pain hit her and her vision clouded over, flickering between clarity and fuzzy static.

"Namie!" Taji reached forward and caught the girl by the shoulders as she stumbled. "_This_ is why I didn't want you to try again…" She carefully lowered the girl to the ground, sinking down beside her, and allowed her to rest her head on her lap for comfort.

Namie's eyes were firmly shut, though her breathing was level. A quick medical analysis revealed that exhaustion had finally taken hold and nothing serious endangered her health. She was simply, completely, conked out. "But you never do listen. Not really." She smiled gently as she brushed a few stray, damp, strands of hair away from the young girl's face with her thumb. Her age really showed when she was asleep. She was…just a little girl. Mental age aside. Sometimes it slipped her mind.

"She does have trouble with that," Hiroto agreed smoothly, though his eyes were fixed away from the tender, maternal scene. "It's a bad habit to overestimate herself." He rose to his feet and dusted off his clothes before approaching the pair. "Sometimes it's justified, but other times it's reckless. More often than not, actually." The words were spoken lightly, carefully.

Taji's expression darkened. "You're talking about the fact that she's killed. Inori-sensei told me." Her voice was tight, and obviously strained. "And just where were you during that event?"

"I do my best—can't blame me for that. You know how missions can be. Things happen. Things get fucked up. It's not always in my hands even if I try to keep everything controlled." He did his best to sound reassuring yet authoritative. Really, every time he encountered this woman he felt like he was being admonished by his mother. If it were Inori in his position, he would carelessly laugh off the tongue-lashing and do his best to placate her. As it was, Hiroto had a bit more—stubborn—resolve than that.

Taji was far from consoled. "You have to do better. I asked you for one thing; one favor. Just _look out_ for her." She aimed a sharp gaze towards her colleague. "Otherwise, it's absolutely unforgivable. Don't make me regret not pushing for teaching responsibility over Namie."

"I look out for all of my genin. I don't need you to tell me that, Taji-senpai." His response was clipped and his expression was set firmly. At the very least, he could read the situation and understand that he was no longer welcome. "In any case, I've seen enough for today. I'll stop by for the next training session so," there was a pause as he struggled with his words. "Please make sure to notify me."

"Right. Of course. You _are_ her instructor, after all." Taji didn't even cast him a second glance as he took his leave.

* * *

For the first time in what felt like forever, after that bout of nightmares and then a lagging period of blank, empty sleep, Namie _dreamed._

Not of days past, but of her current life. Of her family. Of her comrades. Of her _future._

It was a world with no need for ninjas, no need for killing…no need for suffering. Where everyone was alive and happy. It was the life she'd been seeking from the start.

But that's all it was, was a dream. In a perfect world, she would be fully capable of putting a stop to all of the tragedies that were to unfold, but in reality there was no such thing as perfection. Too many things were out of her reach and she could only focus on one goal at a time.

Inevitably, that blissful vision had to come to an end.

What had she been doing…?

Right. She'd been in the middle of training before passing out from pushing herself past her limits. Training to become stronger to at least preserve a fragment of that happy dream.

Once she finally found the strength to open her eyes, the comfort of her own room greeted her. _'Taji must have carried me home.' _As a matter of fact, said woman was slouched on the floor beside her bed, with her head resting against the side of the mattress. She was fast asleep.

'_She was watching over me the whole time?'_ Just like the first time she'd landed herself in the hospital only to awaken to Taji's presence, the woman had loyally remained at her side once more. But rather than loyalty, she realized, it was _care._ Of course she cared; she was the mother figure in the family. She looked after her and her brother as if they were her own, even if she had other duties to tend to.

Namie still had trouble viewing her guardian as anything more than an older sister, or perhaps an aunt, but she was still family. Still there, still close, still warm and loving.

And there were several things she still had to tell her. Unlike with Minato, she hadn't been able to have a decent conversation with the woman in a very long time.

"Taji," she muttered, crawling to the edge of the bed to reach out and grasp the brunette's shoulder and shake her awake. "Wake up; you'll get a crick in your neck."

"Namie…?" The woman rubbed at her eyes before rising to her feet and stretching out the stiffness in her joints. Then, she reached over and grasped the girl's face between her hands, lightly squishing her cheeks. Despite the stern action, her expression revealed worry. "What did I tell you about overworking yourself? Jeez…Minato would be upset, too, you know."

"I know, I know. I'll work on that." The girl batted her guardian's hands away, pursing her lips. "Sorry to worry you."

Taji hummed. "I wasn't _too _worried. Not this time, at least." There was a pause in which she took the time to sit down next to the blonde and smoothing her mussed hair-not that it helped much. "You do have a way of bouncing back."

"Yeah, I guess I do. I've been through worse." Namie didn't bother moving away from her guardian when she coddled her. It was a comforting feeling. "Speaking of _worse_, well…is there a reason we've never really talked about what happened with Inori-sensei and the Hokage and…Brother?"

The woman shifted slightly and let her hands fall to her lap, where she wrung her fingers together nervously. Sooner or later, this topic would have cropped up. But it was so sudden.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up. It's not that I haven't been thinking about it. It just felt wrong every time I wanted to say something." She turned to face her adoptive child with thinly-veiled hesitation. "I think...I was a little afraid to talk about it. I mean…there wasn't much I could do about putting an end to it. All I could do was stand idly by." Her sentence wasn't edged with finality; Namie stared up at her, waiting for her to continue. The woman's dark eyes lowered towards the floor, and the action was almost sad.

"At first, you did seem upset. Distanced. Then, you said you didn't want Minato to find out, but he ended up learning about it after all. I think…I was scared you would be disappointed in me for being so useless in the course of things. I only wanted to help, but there wasn't much I could do."

The girl glanced away, soaking in the confession. Much like herself, Taji had been suffering with her own anxieties over the issue. She was afraid of being hated or resented, and by circumventing the matter and pretending it hadn't happened, they could continue living on in ignorance.

Even if it hurt, even if it was awkward and uncomfortable, these types of conversations were necessary. To learn about others and their perspectives. To grow closer. If she'd learned anything in her second chance at life, it was that.

"I don't…_blame_ you or anything," Namie began, reminiscing on her confrontation with Minato that had her stance swapped. When she'd been seeking forgiveness, it was given. Now, Taji was in a similar position. Maybe that was why it was so easy to speak the words. That, and she never did hold a grudge towards the woman—there was never a legitimate reason. "You did all you could, Taji. Besides, it's over now."

"…Thank you, Namie." She was enveloped in a warm embrace, and for a moment, she stopped short. The gesture seemed foreign; difficult to place.

It was the gentle, genuine hold of a mother. The very same she'd experienced during the early years of her rebirth, from _Taji._

A soft smile rose to the girl's face. She felt like she could tell Taji anything—that she had latent, maternal potential yet.

Perhaps she _was_ better described as a mother than another familiar figure in this abstract family.

* * *

Training with other genin teams was utter hell, Team One decided, not because of difficulty or the challenge, but because their opponents, who were slightly older, were _bullies._ Merciless tyrants.

"I-I'm really sorry I never held up my end of the deal and, uh, _forgot _to introduce you to Minato!" Namie shouted as she ducked low to avoid a fireball jutsu headed her way. "Really! Really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, Mikoto-_senpai!_" Her words were useless. But it hadn't been _her_ fault, not really. Genin training caused the promise to completely slip from her mind. Plus, she hadn't expected to run into Uchiha Mikoto again so soon.

The girl's response was another bright and powerful fire release technique, which the blonde had to lunge away from—consequently crashing into a row of hedges. She used the thick foliage cover to her advantage and quickly shimmied away, then leapt up into a tree that was out of the furious girl's sight.

From her new vantage point, she could see Kakashi and Kasuga struggling against their own rivals: a set of twin brothers with light brown hair and mean dispositions who worked well with constant, dual attacks and earth release jutsus. Kakashi, by all means, had the upper hand, but the twins gave him no time to react.

Instead of facing the reactive challenge Hiroto provided, these three were extremely proactive and nonstop. He'd been right to suggest this type of training, if only to expose them to a different pace.

She just wished he would have provided them all with more useful techniques to use against them individually.

As for their team leader, he was standing cozily by along with Mikoto's Uchiha instructor, enjoying the spectacle.

"Where did that girl go?" Kakashi griped as he evaded a stream of mud one of the twins shot his way. Unlike them, these genin didn't appear to have a limit set on their technique usage, and they were able to conserve energy by working together as a tag-team. Their arsenal was formidable.

Kasuga shook his head as he—narrowly—knocked three shuriken off course with a kunai. "Namie? I lost sight of her when the Uchiha girl chased her off."

The silver-haired boy clicked his tongue. "Then, we're separated? Which plans can we make use of with just the two of us?"

"Wire traps…if I could just create a water clone and slip away? But they have us cornered and they'll know what we're doing right away. I-I don't have any smoke bombs for cover," the medic admitted.

"Or, we could separate, too, and make it easier to take down these guys one-on-one."

The two boys exchanged a glance before nodding and quickly splitting for a pincer attack, both flinging shuriken towards the boys as a distraction while they moved.

The twins immediately covered each other's backs and shifted to face their respective opponents, preparing for an attack.

Namie allowed a small smirk onto her face as she witnessed their teamwork. It was reassuring to be a part of a team that could operate together smoothly when she wasn't present. That just meant she had to step up her game and show them that she could handle _herself _on her own. Blue eyes scanned the forest ground, then, as she returned her attention to Mikoto. The girl was leering, frowning dangerously, and a livid glare was set on the area she'd retreated into, only just shy of where she was hidden in the treetops.

For a brief moment, the blonde feared that the dark-haired girl had gained usage of the Sharingan—her eyes hadn't been red the entire time, though, she was certain of that. But, worst case scenario, if she _did_ have the doujutsu, she would be able to pinpoint her location immediately and hiding would be useless. By the way she was standing still and had yet to make a move, she assumed this wasn't the case.

As it was, Mikoto had no idea where she was, save for general location. She could use this to her advantage and ambush her. Then, she could return to her team and lend help. It wouldn't do to leave their medic on his own, after all.

With a grin, Namie dropped to the ground as quietly as she could, then performed the necessary hand seals for her Decapitation jutsu.

Mikoto wouldn't have any idea what hit her.

Once she was within range, the blonde burst from the earth and firmly took hold of the Uchiha's ankle, giving a great tug that pulled her—squawking helplessly—into the attack and buried her up to her neck in dry dirt.

"What—_what?_ No way!" The dark-haired girl's slanted eyes were owlishly wide and her expression was nothing less than gobsmacked. "I can't believe I fell for that!" She struggled in vain, turning her head this way and that, and then scowled once the dust-covered girl was within her sights. "Namie-chan…" An unnerving smile crossed Mikoto's face, but, probably, it was only so creepy because it was coming from what looked to be a severed, talking head. "Dig me out? _Pretty please?_"

The girl could only grin. "Sorry, Mikoto-senpai. All's fair in love and war, right?"

"Oh! I'll get you back for this!" She griped, struggling once more. "I can't believe I thought you were a cute, harmless kid at one point…" Her cheeks puffed out in annoyance. "I'll have my revenge, mark my words!"

The girl aimed a cheeky wave over her shoulder as she hurried to rejoin her teammates.

Once she arrived at the scene of combat, the twins were out cold. It seemed as if Kakashi had finally found an opening to use his lightning release jutsu and wasted no time attacking.

"Looks like we won," Namie commented, setting her hands on her hips.

Kakashi shrugged. "Looks like we did."

"This was interesting, for a real-time battle against other genin." Kasuga approached his teammates with a small smile. "It was different than fighting Hiroto-sensei."

"That's because I have to hold back," the man himself admitted as he joined his team.

Namie glanced towards the spot she'd left Mikoto and noticed that her own teacher had gone to free her from the ground.

"You three didn't do too badly this time. Once these two wake up, we'll start individual matches."

"Individual matches?" A nervous sweat overtook the blonde—she would definitely face backlash from Mikoto soon.

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, Hiroto had Team One participate in several more fights against other genin. They didn't always manage to win, but at least gained working experience.

They were forced to adjust their methods and construct tactics on the fly to adapt to their opponent's abilities, and learned how to balance the implementation of taijutsu and ninjutsu together. Genjutsu was something none had the talent for, yet they were exposed to that skill as well—learned how to combat it and recognize its usage as well as the way to disrupt and break past the illusions.

Meanwhile, when she had some free time and the strength to do so between mission assignment and team training, Namie continued practicing chakra control under Taji's supervision.

After two months' time spent training, the girl was able to see the vaguest distortion to the air around her hands, with the faintest glow of green.

Then, by the time October passed and she turned ten, she was able to maintain a specific concentration of chakra—enough to work on molding its shape. The "strings" were difficult to compress, but at the very least, she'd managed to channel the blue-hued energy to the edges of her fingertips. To get it into_ something_ of a solid, stable form.

Challenge after challenge arose, whether with chakra control or bickering amongst teammates, and they were dealt with accordingly. Soon, an entire year had passed since Team One had been together and, considering their growth rate and strength, they all believed it was well within their reach to participate in the chuunin exam.

* * *

"Hiroto-sensei." The three genin confronted the dark-haired jounin together, standing firmly, with determination.

Naturally, he expected them to make a bizarre request, with the way they were all banded together so solidly and standing around him in a straight line. Especially considering they'd just concluded another sparring match. "What is it? Need a break?"

Kasuga was the first to speak. "No, well, there _is_ a chuunin exam coming up soon, and we were wondering…well…" He trailed off, uncertain about how to breach the topic.

"We want to participate," Kakashi clarified.

"Haven't we proved we're ready?" Namie crossed her arms.

Hiroto eyed the trio steadily as he considered their request. "Chuunin exam, huh?" Nearly half a year had passed since their training with the village's other genin began, and certainly he was well aware that quite a few of their former opponents were planned to sign up for the examination as well. That was naturally the next step in the ninja process, once one became a genin. They aimed for chuunin, then jounin, then…whatever. Some remained genin for a lengthy time, some stayed chuunin forever. Very few managed to reach the level of jounin.

However, even if their genin opponents were promoted during the course of the upcoming exam, the Academy had recently passed a new batch of them, turning them loose on the world. There were plenty more to pit his team against.

No matter how well Team One strived to work together and improve, they still had quite a ways to go.

"Absolutely not." The trio groaned collectively and grumbled protests, to which Hiroto held up his hand and silenced them. "No complaining. We'll continue working missions and training together, and…if everything goes well…I'll allow you to participate in the next one. Just trust me on this."

At the very least, it was a consolation. If they continued working steadily at the same pace for the next few months, the rank of chuunin would quite possibly be within their reach.

Only, sometimes things don't quite go as planned.

* * *

**A/N: **Hopefully I can finish up Part I (one more chapter) of this fic before NaNoWriMo rolls around, but if I can't, here's some news: I have plans for another, more light-hearted, Naruto SI/Rebirth/etc… short fic to work on during November for the 50k word challenge, which I'll be posting on this same account if everything goes the way I want it to and real life doesn't get in the way because I'm also in the process of moving to a new house. _Otherwise _there won't be any more updates to _Laterality_ until December or so. **I repeat: there will be no updates to this story during the month of November**. I encourage all you writers out there to give the NaNoWriMo challenge a go, too! Whether for fanfiction or original fiction, whatever. It's really great fun.

There's a lot of speculation about chakra and certain techniques in this chapter on my part, so if anything sounds weird or doesn't make sense, I'll do my best to explain where I'm going with it. Trust me, I have an idea of what I'm doing, but if any of you have suggestions on the matter I'd be happy to hear that, too. Most of the things in Naruto seem to have become _bullshit no jutsu_ so it's…a difficult topic to work with. Interesting, but difficult.

Thanks for all reads/faves/follows. And thanks to you super reviewers, too: **Littlebirdd, coronadomontes, Counting Sinful Stars, littlemelonatplay, Kasuke. Hagase, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat,** **Klaelman, SilverRider09, BlueCampanula,** **Chocogirl24,** **GlaresThatKill, drago123, Abundant E, White Ivy, Wings of Hope, **and** Illogical Human. **

Oh, heads-up! I'm sure some of you already noticed but I've started replying to reviews via the message system used on this website and will do so from now on, save for replies to anonymous/guest reviews, which will continue to be posted on my dreamwidth journal. See you next update!


	26. Twenty-three

**Chapter Twenty-three: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back **

* * *

Namie didn't make a clockwork habit of visiting Sei and Harumi's graves, but she did make a point of taking the trip at least once a year.

The need to do so was difficult to put into words—she didn't particularly understand it herself, only that the feeling was a constant presence within her mind. If she put it off for too long, it began to bother her. Made her feel guilty, as if she'd intentionally overlooked a family member's birthday.

She'd never known them, not personally. Yet, they were the ones responsible for bringing her into this new world. They were the ones who left their legacy to their children and whose loss had especially shaken her brother. To her, they were still nothing more than strangers—but it wasn't as simple as that. Their blood ran through her veins.

Perhaps that was what it was that drew her there.

While attempting to come to terms with the feeling, she procrastinated. Fiddled with the flowers in her hands, picking at the leaves as she stared at the gravestone before settling down on her knees and placing the white anemones beside it. It wasn't something that could easily be understood. But that wasn't the reason she was here—she was here to speak to the strangers who were also her parents.

"Hi, um…Mom. Dad. It's been a while." Finding a starting point was always the difficult part, like trying to write a letter and only being able to stare at the blank, white paper at a loss. But, she'd found that speaking was much simpler than writing. Once upon a time, in simpler days, she'd thought the opposite.

'_Even though you're probably aware I'm not really your daughter and that my real parents are two completely different people. I don't even know if I have the right to call you parents. As it is, Taji is a contender for that position. No disrespect meant or anything…But, I do wonder if, maybe, the afterlife is connected everywhere and maybe you'll meet my first-life parents one day.'_

Most of the conversation—the things she couldn't verbalize—were kept safely within her mind.

"A lot's happened over this past year. And I do mean a lot."

The cool winter wind rustled through the cemetery, biting at her exposed hands. It promised snowfall. Namie tucked her hands away into her coat's pocket. No one else was present for visitation, and with the weather as it was, she wasn't surprised.

She only bothered keeping track of and even paying attention to the colder months because Minato's birthday fell into that timeframe. Not that it mattered—they weren't a gift-giving family, or even the type to celebrate anniversaries. Not until Kushina came around, at least. When she remembered, she was stubborn about at least having a cake present for those special days. Even for Taji. And, when summer rolled around, they returned the favor.

"I became a genin a while back, because of…things."

'_They still think I'm a genius or something, but that's not true at all. I'm only average at best, maybe a little above, but I do have this huge, secret advantage that's pretty unique to me. I'm not so sure it's an advantage sometimes, though.'_

She reached into her pocket and extracted a crumpled note, fingers fumbling from numbness as she attempted to flatten it out and present it to the gravemarker. "See this? It's the thing that helped my team pass the final qualifying test. Sort of. It's more of a reminder for me that teamwork is important. That my teammates matter. So I keep it with me, in case I ever forget that. Like a promise." The note was returned to her pocket.

"Sarutobi Hiroto is my instructor. Did you know him, I wonder? He probably would have been a teenager, then. Apparently, he has some kind of reputation—probably because he can be such a hardass. Actually, another teammate of mine—the son of the White Fang, I bet you knew him, too—is also a little shit. Excuse the language…" A small smile crossed her face. She crinkled her nose, numb from the cold, and sighed. "The only one I really like from that team is the medic, Kasuga. He's not bad, surprisingly. Really calm and good at balancing the team dynamics. He's something of a mom, too.

"I'm not the only genin out of my Academy friends, either. A couple of months ago, Suzume, Toriichi, Inuzuka (they're all on a team together and I bet Suzu-chan is happy about_ that_), Raidou, and Aoba also passed. Something went wrong with the final, 'secret' part of the genin test for Genma's and Ebisu's new teams, so they were held back, but they'll probably earn the rank sooner or later. They're not stupid. Genin tests are pretty frequent, too." She paused, raising a gloved hand from her pocket to swipe at her chilled nose. At least it wasn't as cold as it could be; the sun was high in the sky and there were barely any clouds in sight. Nighttime was less forgiving.

"Unlike the chuunin exam. It only happens twice a year—and me and my team really thought we were ready to take it! I mean, I think I have what it takes to be a chuunin. But Hiroto-sensei rejected our proposition and said we can sign up for the next one. It's still a ways away…" The girl glanced into the distance pensively. "Minato became a jounin recently. It's a pretty big deal—Kushina wants to throw a huge celebration and everything, invite a lot of people. I told her not to worry, but she put it off for a few days because I have a mission coming up that interferes with it. She says it's important the whole family is present.

"And…Dad, you probably already know this, but he's used your weird-shaped kunai for the Flying Thunder God technique. You know, one of the Nidaime's high-ranked jutsus? He's gotten pretty good with it lately. I bet that progress helped gain him that promotion. I mean, he's so young…only almost seventeen. The youngest jounin promotion I've ever heard of was—"

'—_Kakashi's. He was, what, twelve or thirteen? Or, rather, _will _be. That's pretty impressive. Even if he is a brat.' _She rolled her eyes. _'But that probably means Minato will start developing the Rasengan soon. I'm not sure how that happens, exactly, so it'll be nice to find out. I'm working with shape transformation myself, actually. But it won't be anything near as impressive as that.' _

Her silence stretched on for quite a while. In the distance, the sounds of bustling villagers could be heard, reminding her she had places to be. But there was no urgency.

"Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is we're doing…okay. Pretty well, really. Minato is someone you can be proud of—I know I am. He's the best brother I could ask for. And me…I wonder. I hope I'm something you can be proud of, too. Even if only just a little." She spent a few more moments observing the headstone, checking it over again for dust and dirt, spider webs… but she'd already cleaned it thoroughly. With a sigh, she bent down to run her hands over the name inscribed on the slab. Only Harumi's was displayed there, since Sei's body had never been retrieved, because there was nothing _to_ retrieve, save for his forehead protector, and his name was etched on the Memorial Stone, but she spoke to them both, because they would hear her no matter where she said it—if they heard it at all. "It's December twenty-fifth, today. I don't know if that means anything here, really, but…Merry…_Merry Christmas._ Mom. Dad."

It had been too long since she'd said those words. Heard that cheer. It no longer mattered, but it was one of those things so deeply entrenched in her mind that it would stay with her yet. Until something came along to replace it.

It _would_ happen, and it was something she couldn't stop. There were already faces and ideas she only had the vaguest of notions about, which had once been crystal clear. Her parents' faces? Voices? She didn't know. Her best friend's name? Gone. Her very first, beloved pet dog? Only a blurry relic. She couldn't even remember the date of her original birthday. At first, it worried her, but now…? Now, it barely even occurred to her.

Moving forward into the here and now was for the best.

* * *

The Konoha kidnappings, while experiencing severe droughts of activity over the years, still presented a pressing issue. Largely because the root of the problem was still unknown.

It had been speculated recently that the cause was human trafficking, as mostly obscure orphans had been the ones to go missing, with hardly any background or loved ones to file their absence, but even if it was that, the perpetrator—or perpetrators—was still a mystery. Until a distraught parent came along to stir up awareness with the Hokage administration, it typically remained undealt with. _Because_ everything usually led to a dead end.

How were they to find a solution when the problem was something they could barely understand? It wouldn't do to cause widespread panic and mass hysteria amongst the village.

Special search units and spies had been sent to the borders and even at times ordered to infiltrate neighboring lands—Minato had taken part in some of these excursions, as a newly-promoted jounin trusted with higher-order missions—to find evidence of enemy assault and possibly the missing children stowed away as prisoners, but these attempts were also futile.

It was as if a phantom swept through Konoha on a whim and spirited these children away, because what else could completely bypass security measures and work without leaving a single trace behind?

By now, as a shinobi, Namie was also aware of these events. Team One had been given the responsibility of protecting the village on a night watch in collaboration with the Uchiha military police force twice before, strictly due to the abductions. Since the guard was within the village walls, they had been simple D-rank missions. They weren't given the details on the matter, but, naturally, word got out.

Gossip was a pretty crucial hobby amongst the townsfolk and bored chuunin, after all.

Of course, the blonde's suspicion was fully focused on Orochimaru or Danzo being the mastermind to these missing children cases. Though, the only basis she had to the accusation was her memory...and general dislike. There was no way to stir misgivings towards either of those two without drawing more negative attention to herself. Besides, she was just a ten-year-old genin. No one would take her word at face-value.

She hadn't even_ seen_ Orochimaru yet. There was no way to know what he was up to at this point.

But she still wouldn't put it past him—no matter how biased that seemed.

Well, it wasn't her problem. Not until it became her problem. And she didn't think that would happen anytime soon, if ever.

* * *

"I'd really like another C-rank mission. I just can't get used to helping old ladies clean their houses…" Namie muttered, stretching out a kink in her shoulder. Team One hadn't been assigned to another higher-ranked mission since their journey to Kakunodate, even with their current growth. She tallied their to-date, completed D-rank mission roster at twenty-three, actually, with only one mark down for C. It wasn't a bad track record, she supposed, but it did start to grate on her nerves when the elderly—like Old Lady Kiku, who requested them to clean quite often—seemed to expect ridiculous things from her, like climbing up into the rafters and dusting every crevice to old light fixtures. Especially when those support beams were rotted and weak and snapped under the smallest amount of pressure, ruthlessly and abruptly dropping her to the oh-so-soft ground waiting below. Then, they had to go to great lengths to _replace_ said beams.

It turned into an all-day job.

Her bones ached. She was dog-tired. By the time she and her team completed this mission, the sun was well past the horizon and a sliver of the moon was shining brightly in the sky. Unlike most other times, Namie had been the first to leave once the mission was completed, whereas Kakashi usually left their company quickly—probably to spend time with his dad, she figured, because no matter how cool he liked to act he was a total softy when it came to family—and Kasuga tended to hurry home as well, explaining that he had to make sure dinner was ready. From what she understood, he'd gained his amazing cooking abilities from his grandmother, who had also been the one to train him with beginner-level medical skills. She had long since passed away, leaving the young boy to look after his parents, who were typically too busy to do so for themselves.

Rather than just being the team's mom, it seemed as if he was_ everybody's_ mom.

Sometimes it made her a little jealous. Not Kasuga's "parental" status, but the fact that those two had families to return home to. Real, stable families. Hers was nothing less than that, of course, but none of them really _needed _to take care of each other. They were close, but not close-knit. But the thing that weighed on her spirits most was the habitual absence and the general emptiness of her home. Minato was away on a mission, as he usually was, if he wasn't busy training or with Kushina. Taji was also away, but expected back sometime before midnight. There _were_ the few, rare times where Kushina surprised her and came around just to see her specifically and not just her boyfriend, but said girl tended to be quite busy lately as well. She knew better than to rely on that and hope for an impromptu visit.

It was nothing new, but Namie had no one to go home to that night.

There were days where it was just too painful lingering around and watching the others go while she was left behind. But maybe it was partially her fault, for keeping quiet on the matter and stuffing her feelings down—even if they were friends, there were still things she wouldn't say.

Instead of wandering straight home, Namie found herself standing on the crunchy gravel outskirts of one of the local parks. Inside, outside, it didn't matter. When she only had herself to keep her company, it made no difference where she was. She wasn't alone in thinking that, either, by the looks of the small, solitary child that swayed morosely on one of the nearby swings.

_'What is it with lonely children and swings…?'_

"Hey," the blonde began, grabbing the rough, frayed rope of the empty swing beside the occupied one. "Mind if I join you, kid?"

The child glanced her way—and when the dim street lamp revealed his features, she jumped slightly. It had been too hard to make out the features before, but this boy was no stranger.

For the second time, she'd unintentionally re-encountered Obito. And, judging by his wide-eyed grimace, he recognized her, too.

The shock passed quickly, however, as if he were too tired or lonely to care, and he shrugged his small shoulders tiredly, moody. "Whatever."

'_Awkward._'

It was already too late to change her mind and find a new park. Namie plopped down onto the swing without a second thought. Silence passed between the two for a few moments, but that time didn't go uninterrupted. The small, dark-haired boy continued to shoot cautious, not-so-discreet glances towards the blonde, which she did her damnedest to ignore.

The weird atmosphere became almost unbearable.

"_What?_" she finally grumbled. Her blue eyes narrowed as she aimed a squinty glance at the boy.

He nearly cringed as he leaned away from her a bit, put off by her harshness. "You look kinda familiar, nee-chan."

A muscle twitched unpleasantly near the girl's mouth. _'Oh, so he forgot about me. After hitting me with that stupid ball and making me drop that candy and everything…what a brat.'_ She wanted nothing more than to reach out and smack him upside the head—maybe chew him out, but her irritation quickly faded. There was no reason to get all hung up over something so trivial that happened in the past. At least, trivial in his case. She still wasn't completely sure what her stance was regarding the boy...

When he could no longer bear her scowl, he averted his gaze and fidgeted with his trademark goggles.

Namie watched him, scrutinizing him carefully. No matter what he would do in the future, _now_ he was just a kid. A little, lonely kid. Did he even have parents? She couldn't recall. But there had to be a reason he was out so late without any company and that potential reason alone softened her heart a little. "Yeah. We've met. Sorta."

"Don't remember." Now, it was Obito's turn to squint. The look on his face was so ridiculous and exaggerated that the blonde couldn't help but laugh—which she quickly stifled. To cover the action, she worked up another displeased glare. Then, the boy's eyebrows shot up. "Ah! You! You're the really scary nee-chan who almost hit me that one time!"

"I—" her voice caught. _Scary?_ Well, that wasn't too far off the mark. "I did _not_ almost hit you. _You're_ the one who hit me, brat!"

He easily avoided the subject in favor of introducing himself. "My name's not 'brat.' It's _Obito_. Uchiha Obito." The boy adjusted his goggles again, messing up his spiky black hair, and grinned cheekily. "But one day everyone'll call me _Hokage-sama!_" He paused, briefly, eyes nervously darting her way. "Then you _can't_ hit me, because that's insu…insubordi-something. Y'know, against the law 'n' all."

'_Insubordination?'_ Namie quirked a brow and wondered where he'd caught onto such a word for his kiddy vocabulary, and even went so far as to use it correctly. "I don't even _want_ to hit you."

_'Not yet, anyway.'_

"Oh…Well, good! Isn't like I'd let you, anyway. Ya see, I'm a ninja-in-training."

Somehow, she was beginning to miss the quiet, broody brat. He was turning out to be annoyingly talkative. His arms were crossed confidently and he had quite an arrogant, self-assured look on his face.

She was extremely tempted to knock him off-balance so he would topple right off of the swing, off his high-horse.

Instead, the blonde tapped her forehead protector with a smirk. "Hey, I'm already a full-fledged ninja. See?" She turned towards him so the moonlight could catch on the metal plate.

His jaw dropped. "No way, lemme see!"

Namie side-eyed him for a moment, pursing her lips. "And let you get your grubby little hands all over it? No way, this isn't something for_ kids_."

"…Nee-chan, you're kind of a kid, too. You're like, my age." Obito also pursed his lips, clearly judging her.

"Says you." With a sigh, she reached behind her head to untie the knot. She had a bad habit of tangling it into a tight, ratty thing to keep it from coming loose, since it also doubled as a ponytail holder, so at times it was a bit of a struggle to undo. Once it was free, she held up her ponytail with one hand while she used the other to offer the forehead protector to the Uchiha. "You can look at it. Just don't—I dunno, get snot on it or anything."

He was kind of a crybaby, from what she knew.

In the meantime, she dug through her pockets for a spare hair band. She tried to keep one on her person at all times, but even in this world they seemed to get lost in whatever void attracted them.

Obito took the hitai-ate with almost reverent care as he inspected it with eyes that were all but sparkling. To most kids aiming to become shinobi, it must have been like the Holy Grail. A medal of honor. He ran his thumbs across the worn, nicked surface and raised an eyebrow. "It's really messed up. How long have you been a genin, nee-chan?"

"A little over a year. A year and about four months." When her search provided no results, she shrugged and let her hair fall loose, only slightly bothered by the way it tickled her shoulders. She rarely ever wore it down because, much like Minato's, it was spiky and difficult to tame, better left fixed up than free. That, and she didn't want to end up looking like a miniature version of her sibling.

"Cool…" he breathed, grinning slightly. "Where's your other stuff? Like, ninja tools and all that?"

Namie glanced towards the bandages wrapped around her right thigh. Her kunai holster was absent. "I didn't need them today. Just had a D-rank mission helping some old grandma out with housework."

"Ninja do things like that, too?"

"We do whatever we need to, really. Our bodies belong to the Fire Country, so we kinda get whored—uh—" she nearly bit her tongue in the attempt to rapidly censor her rough language, "—_used_ for lots of different jobs." Obito, oblivious to the slip, handed the forehead protector back and she accepted it with a nod before grasping the swing's ropes and kicking off from the ground, indulging in the childish activity. "We get paid pretty well for it all, at least."

"I can't wait 'til I'm a ninja, too…" A sullen pout overtook his features as he trailed off. "Who knows how long _that'll_ be, though."

Namie winced at his tone and did a poor job concealing it. Along with being a crybaby, she knew he was kind of a moron as a kid, too. "Uh…" She was at a loss.

Consoling kids was far from her forte.

Obito continued to speak, unprompted. "I failed an important test in class today. I really wanted to do well, so I could impress_ Rin_, but…" His complaints trailed off into unintelligible mumbles, though she'd distinctly heard him say "Rin." Of course—she had great influence over his life from the start, didn't she?

"Did you bother studying?" Namie questioned dully, glancing up at the night sky. Thinking. Planning. The boy...he did grow to love Nohara Rin. In fact, her death was something that drove him over the edge and pushed him into a life of madness, though she'd always felt that was more of an excuse on his behalf than anything. Incredibly selfish. Perhaps it wasn't the only factor that turned him bad, but it was definitely a defining point. It was possible that something could still be done about that.

She made a mental note to keep an eye out for Rin.

The boy rubbed the back of his head, looking away sheepishly. "Not really…"

"Then it's no wonder." She rolled her eyes. "What, did you think the answers would just suddenly come to you in the middle of the test?"

In some strange turn of events, Uchiha Obito was strangely easy to talk to. He was a bit of a pompous, annoying brat, but, perhaps because of his simplicity, there was something of a natural charm to his presence. It struck a chord within her, resonated with old memories, and—whatever the resemblance was—it overturned her previous opinion of the boy and resulted in a sort of kinship rather than the anticipated animosity and uncertainty.

Or perhaps the change was within herself—maybe her heart had gone soft without realizing. Many things had happened, after all. Her attitude towards the young had definitely flipped and she no longer turned away from them, but did her best to understand them despite her penchant for being too abrasive and reducing them to tears.

"Kinda." Now, he just looked dismayed.

Namie only smirked. "Is that why you were out here all alone? Crying over a bad test score?"

"Nee-chan, I wasn't _crying!_" he griped. "But…it's pretty calm out here. And there's not really anyone waiting for me back home. The cousins are always busy, so no one really notices if I'm there or not."

"I see."

'_So, we're in the same boat.'_

"It's really getting late, though," she began, remembering the kidnapping incidents. Just how messed up would things get if this kid got caught up in that…? She wasn't willing to find out if it would be for better or worse. "You shouldn't be alone at night. How about I walk you home?"

For a moment, it looked as if he would rebel and protest the idea, but in the end he shrugged and accepted the offer. "Sure. I guess."

Namie jumped up from the swing and stretched her arms before offering her hand to the younger boy. He puffed out his cheeks and ignored it, but she couldn't expect any less. Probably, he was at that age where holding girls' hands—aside from the girl he_ liked_—was uncool.

Whatever it was, she never had the chance to find out.

Neither of them made it anywhere near their respective homes that night.

* * *

Obito awoke with a jolt and hiss of pain when his head smacked unpleasantly against a hard, wooden surface, and his eyes immediately shot open.

…But he didn't suppose it would matter either way, as there was a strip of cloth blindfolding him. Whoever put it there was horribly negligent, though—it wasn't as tight as it should have been. With a bit of wriggling, it loosened and dropped away, slipping down over his neck.

Even then, the place he was trapped in was only dimly-lit. Thin beams of moonlight crept in through the slats of the walls around him, but it wasn't nearly enough to be able to make heads or tails of anything.

_'What it this...?'_

When he tried to move, there was an odd resistance. His wrists and ankles were bound. But when he'd moved, his shoulder nudged against something—or, rather, by the feel of it, _someone_ else.

There were other people around.

If he'd stopped to take in his surroundings before—the musty, dank scent of terrified children, their sniffling cries and muffled sobs, and the sounds of wooden wheels tumbling along a dirt road which contributed to the bumpy ride that led to him waking up, he would have noticed that he'd been kidnapped.

As it was, his thoughts were muddled and that assumption was far from his mind.

"Where am I…? Nee-chan? That you?" He nudged the person beside him once more. If he squinted, he could just scarcely make out the sight of fair hair under the limited amount of light. It caught it, and reflected off of it.

He certainly hoped it was the blonde genin. The last thing he could remember was talking with her, so whatever had happened must have involved the two of them. He didn't want to be alone here.

Obito bumped his elbow urgently against the girl once more, but all that resulted in was jostling her from her stooped position leaned against the caravan's wall, knocking her to the floor. At the very least, it caused her to stir.

She grumbled out some less-than-choice words as she grasped for consciousness, and as soon as she felt the blindfold and ropes on her person, snapped to attention. She wriggled around like a caterpillar, struggling against the bindings and growling in irritation, slurring out another stream of intense, boldly creative expletives that probably would have impressed the boy, or possibly made him blush, if they weren't in such a predicament.

"Obito-kun?" Once she realized her escape attempts were useless, she canted her head in his direction, where she'd heard his voice, and murmured his name. The blindfold was still held fast around her eyes.

"Yeah, it's me. Nee-chan, what's going on?" He was careful to keep his voice low. Even if he tried to speak louder, it probably would have trembled too much to even be understandable.

"Probably kidnapped. Things like that have been happening around Konoha lately." She struggled into a sitting position once again, briefly faltering as the cart hit another bump in the road and almost sent her pitching forward, then contorted uncomfortably against the wall so she could feel the splintered planks of wood with her awkwardly crossed, bound hands.

"You—you can do something, right? Like, get us out of here? You're a ninja, nee-chan!" Obito pleaded, tears pooling in his eyes in response to the situation. From his perspective, she was the nearest authority figure, even if she was only a kid, too. She was a _ninja._ Putting his trust in her had to be worth something.

"Shh," she cautioned harshly, lips pressed together in a tense frown. "I need you to keep a calm and level mind here. Are you tied up, too?"

He took a moment to sniffle, lips trembling, and breathed an affirmative response.

"Is there any way you can reach this thing covering my eyes?"

"M-my hands are behind my back, a-and my legs are tied up." He tried in vain to strain against the bindings on his wrists again.

"At the ankles?"

"Mhm."

"So you can stand, then." She determined. "If I help you get to your feet, can you get this blindfold off?"

"I-I dunno. I don't know, nee-chan." He shook his head, but stopped when he realized she couldn't see. Took a moment to sniffle and wipe his runny nose against his shoulder.

The girl hummed. When she spoke again, her voice was less coarse, somewhat encouraging—like an adult's. "Hey, I really need you to help me, here." She shifted to where the side of her arm pressed against his and she nodded. "Come on, I said I'd help. Lean against me, use the wall or something. I…um…believe in you. It'll be easy, trust me."

"O…okay."

And it was.

"Nice going." Once Namie was able to see, she scanned their surroundings fully. Along with Obito, there were three other young children cramped up beside each other, all bound and blindfolded as well. Two were gagged—probably because they'd been noisy. It was fortunate the kidnapper, or kidnappers, hadn't thought to silence them all.

The small traveling cart was dark, but old. Splintered; weak. If she looked around enough, she was certain she'd find a loose nail somewhere, hopefully with the sharp edge sticking up. But it was impossible to move around in her state.

It would have been nice to have her ninja tools present; her storage pouch which she always carried no matter what, that contained smoke bombs and paper tags, had been confiscated by their captors. She couldn't even make use of any techniques, since her arms were bound in such a way that her hands were nearer to her elbows than each other. Forming hand seals was impossible. Whoever had ambushed them must have seen her hitai-ate and recognized the dangers of shinobi.

'_But then, shouldn't they have cast a genjutsu for good measure…?' _The thought briefly crossed her mind. _'Unless they're not shinobi?'_

As for the ambush… she could hardly recall how it happened. One moment she'd been at the park with Obito, and the next thing she knew, she woke up here, with that very child beside her. They were definitely skilled, to have caught her so badly off-guard.

Definitely shinobi.

In a way, she was thankful she was here. If not for her presence, these children would be whisked away to wherever they were being taken and wouldn't be heard from ever again. Their families would cry. So would their friends. They were important to others; they had loved ones who would miss them. They were living, breathing beings, alive—_not_ faceless cardboard extras staring up from a two-dimensional plane.

But, because she was also among them, they had a better chance of escaping. There was no way she would simply let these criminals get away with something like this.

And there was also no telling if anyone in Konoha would notice her absence and send out a pursuit team. This wasn't the same as Kushina's kidnapping, after all. _She _wasn't important to the village in the long run. There was a slim chance anyone was present to catch her trail. Minato was gone… Kushina probably wouldn't realize… Taji wasn't home yet. Her team had already parted ways.

She was on her own. It was best to assume that.

Her heart clenched as she realized the magnitude of the responsibility weighing down on her—one she wasn't certain she was prepared for. Even so, Obito, along with these children, needed to be rescued and returned to the village no matter what.

_No matter what. _

The small Uchiha watched her worriedly, with wet eyes. His cheeks were damp and his nose was snotty, and any other time she probably would have been slightly disgusted by the sight. Now it just made her nervous, because he looked so utterly helpless and afraid. He was looking to _her_ for security and safety and she could barely shoulder something like that because she was hardly an adult; someone to rely on. Never perceived of herself as one before that moment.

"N-nee-chan, you're going to get us out, right?" he asked again, and his tone was so hopeful that she had to look away. "Because…you're a ninja. You—you have to!"

Namie pressed her lips together, brow furrowing. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna try." She had to believe it wasn't a lie.

She wasn't completely helpless. Even with her hands bound, the blonde was still able to manipulate chakra and mold its shape, if only slightly. There was still only very little she could do with her current level of training, but it was worth a go. Maybe the semi-solid, high concentration would be able to loosen her bindings. A little give was all she needed. Just a _little._

It would be a longshot, though. Finding an old, sharp nail to use as a makeshift knife was still an option.

She shifted into a more comfortable position with her shoulder wedged against the wall boards as she prepared to channel her chakra flow into her hands.

"Is that—that's _chakra!_ Nee-chan, you can do something like that…?" Obito observed the oscillating glow from beside her, slackjawed.

Namie nodded idly while working the chakra into the spaces between her skin and the rope bindings. "I can." That wasn't the difficult part. Expanding the chakra and hoping it would loosen up the ropes was—and that it wouldn't backfire and end up harming her instead. Her teeth gnashed together as she flared the accumulated chakra, doing her best to move her hands apart and stretch the bindings simultaneously.

Then, something snapped.

The girl's eyes shot open. She did her best to glance over her shoulder. She wiggled her arms—there was give.

It worked. _It really worked…!_

A wide grin spread across her face as she twisted her hands free from the ropes and let them fall quietly to the floor. Her wrists were sore, bruised, and the usage of her chakra while she was already so tired pinged deep in her nerves, but it was something she had to deal with. "I did it."

"_Nee-chan, you're totally awe_—" Namie quickly pressed both hands against the boy's mouth as he crowed out the words loudly, and sent him a meaningful glare. They'd come this far, so if they were caught now it would all be for nothing. An embarrassed blush spread across his face as she moved away, holding her index finger in front of her lips to remind him to keep quiet. "S-sorry. Sorry. Kinda got caught up in the moment. I know, I'll be quiet."

"It's fine." She set to work on loosening the ropes around her ankles, rising quietly to her feet once they, too, were free.

There were small spaces between the caravan's wooden slats, just wide enough for her to make out their surroundings in the moonlight. By the looks of the trees, they were still near Konoha, definitely within the Land of Fire. A quick survey of the area around the moving cart revealed that there were no guards stationed around them. Probably, the only ones present were the driver and someone to keep watch—unless they were a part of a larger convoy. It was too difficult to tell. All she could tell now was that they were at the very end of the line, if anything.

What was the best plan of action, when there were four other children who had little to no shinobi training whatsoever? She was their only line of defense and their only means of attack, but if there were more experienced shinobi outside, she was at a steep disadvantage.

No, there was no time for attacking recklessly. This was a rescue mission. Their lives were in her hands—they came first.

"What now, nee-chan?" Obito tugged on her sleeve after she released him from his bindings, keeping close. It was a bit difficult helping the other children free when he was constantly at her side, but she knew it was for comfort. He was scared. They were_ all_ scared.

"I just need a little time." Namie turned to the three children she'd helped get loose. They looked to be around Obito's age as well, if not younger. "What are your names? And take care to keep your voices down."

"K-Kaori," the youngest, a fair-haired girl, whimpered, also taking up the habit of clinging to the nearest person.

"Jun," the one Kaori attached herself to breathed. He was the only boy present, the oldest, and appeared to be the most responsible and confident, if one overlooked his tear-streaked face, soaked pants and shaking knees.

"Meiko," the final child introduced herself, lips trembling. "You—you're a ninja, onee-chan? You're going to help us?" Her voice was taut, hoarse from crying.

"You bet she is! Nee-chan is awesome, you can count on her. I'm Obito, by the way," he grinned confidently, this time careful to keep from yelling his words out.

"I'm Namie." She cast the dark-haired Uchiha a slightly exasperated stare before returning her attention to the small group. "He's right. I'm going to help get you all out of here. But I need you all to be quiet, and to do _exactly _as I say. Can you do that?"

The three nodded.

"Great. For now, sit tight and don't worry too much. We'll…all be back in Konoha. Soon." Namie watched them all return to their places on the floor before glancing around the empty compartment and clutching the hem of her shirt. She'd certainly admitted that she would save these children, but there was little she had to work with.

The belief that she could protect four children as well as herself was beginning to seem foolish.

* * *

Kasuga and Kakashi lingered on the street outside of the old woman's home as Hiroto concluded their mission and wished her well, thanking her for the opportunity. They hadn't noticed when Namie left, but clearly she'd missed the memo when their teacher said he had an important matter to discuss with them after the mission was over.

They dearly hoped it was the topic of the upcoming chuunin exam they were aiming for.

"Where's Namie-chan?" Hiroto asked as he rejoined the team, taking note of the blonde's unusual absence. "Did she just run off?"

Kasuga shrugged meekly. "I didn't even see her leave."

"That kid…" the dark-haired jounin sighed and raised a hand to massage the bridge of his nose. Even though she'd toned it down somewhat, Namie still did whatever she wanted and there was no way to correct that freewheeling behavior. "Kasuga-kun, you know where she lives, right?" The boy nodded. "Can you go get her? Both of you meet up with us at the administration building."

"Yes, Hiroto-sensei!" The orange-haired boy nodded obediently before turning on his heel and hurrying off along the same route that led towards his home to find his teammate.

The girl had been in a sour mood since she'd fallen from the rafters, Kasuga knew. But she usually _was_ prickly when D-rank missions involved cleaning. Probably, she'd been too distracted to listen to Hiroto and decided to leave as soon as they left the woman's house. It was usually up to him to fetch his teammate when she was needed, since sending Kakashi would only cause trouble and Hiroto himself was typically busy. Or just unwilling.

He didn't mind, though—this was something he'd grown used to. Looking after others was just what he did. It was second nature.

It was the least he could do to honor the memory of his late grandmother. She'd been the one to take care of him when his parents were too busy. She'd provided a kind and loving stability to his life, and he'd grown up cherishing those things. _Help people. Be there for people. Love people._ He'd learned much from the woman before her time in this world came to its end. Then, he continued along the pathway she paved for him by taking care of the little things for his parents. Like making sure dinner was ready when his father worked late and his mother had come home from the cryptology department too exhausted to even think about cooking. Like helping his father tend to the bathhouse when business was bustling and he needed an extra hand. Like keeping their home tidy and comfortable.

Naturally, this behavior carried over into Team One when he became an integral part of it.

During his Academy days, the others hadn't taken well to his over-accommodating attitude, often teasing him about being a teacher's pet and a kiss-up. Maybe that was due in part to his inability to properly express himself and speak out without tripping over his tongue, but there was nothing he could do about that, not now.

When he'd become part of Hiroto's genin team, no one overanalyzed his kind, giving nature and simply _accepted_ it. Because of their support, he was able to grow stronger. He was able to learn how to express himself, even if it was still somewhat difficult. Progress came in increments.

Hiroto, while rough and intimidating more often than not, usually fronting a strict, no-nonsense persona, was patient. He never rushed Kasuga, but did his best to guide him in the proper direction. When he'd tried to help Tohya's injured soldier in Kakunodate and failed, the jounin had carefully coached him through the glum event, assuring him it wasn't his fault and that that the matter had been out of his hands. He'd taught him to move forward. Not as directly as that, or in as many words, however. His teacher also struggled with expressing himself, better with actions than speech.

Kakashi made it outwardly clear that he didn't particularly care for any of them, but, truly, he _did._ After Namie had saved the boy from an enemy attack, he'd returned the favor. That was telling in itself. He listened to them both when they analyzed situations and constructed plans. He trusted them. Kasuga was certain that his haughty personality was a product of his young age and intelligent standing—the reputation of his surname. That, and pride. Sometimes the medic wished he could be as close as Kakashi and Namie, because while they often argued and were at odds, that was a sign of familiarity. But he was happy enough with the slightly-distant cooperation they shared as teammates. Maybe one day they could be friends, too.

Namie was strange. Different. Talented and considerably mature for her age, except for the times when she bickered with their youngest teammate and lowered herself to a childish level. She could be hotheaded, and a little hard to control, but she never rejected him when he asked for her help. And, like Kakashi, who listened to his tactics, Namie also listened to his petty small talk. His daily worries and wonders. For that reason, as well as their conversation about friendship some few months before, he felt particularly close to her.

He was grateful to all of them.

So, really, small favors like this were the least he could do to repay that.

A strange glint in his peripheral vision drew him away from his thoughts.

He turned his head to get a closer look at the object shining under the moon's light and halted, curious. But...what met his eyes was something that didn't quite register, not at first. It was just too out of place to be what it first appeared to be. He was forced to do a double-take.

There, thrown haphazardly across the steps that led up to one of the village's parks, was an abandoned ninja headband.

'_What's this doing here?'_ Kasuga approached the hitai-ate and picked it up, brow drawn in confusion. Things like this didn't just get lost. They never got abandoned. Konoha shinobi treated their forehead protectors with care as if they were precious jewels.

To see one here, dropped like garbage…it was just unthinkable.

The medic's fingertips brushed against something tucked away within the material that crinkled upon contact. He carefully picked out a folded note that hid been stowed in between the dirty blue nylon's creases. Flattening out the small paper revealed a startlingly familiar paragraph. Even though it was faded, this note was the very one Hiroto had left for the team during their group cooperation test.

That meant this was Namie's hitai-ate, because he'd seen Kakashi wearing his and it definitely wasn't his own. He'd had no idea the blonde had kept the note, but by its faded, wrinkled state, it was apparent she'd kept it hidden away in her headband for quite a while, as something of sentimental value.

'_As a sign of our teamwork?'_ the boy mused. He'd never taken her for the nostalgic type, and the notion reached his heart. Even _she_ had trouble wearing her heart on her sleeve.

But—no.

This was _Namie's _headband. There was absolutely no way she would leave it here alone.

What did this mean…?

It was such a strange situation that he couldn't properly grasp it.

Kasuga's fingers curled tightly around the forehead protector, gripping the cool, tarnished metal, and he continued on his way to his teammate's home, at a quicker pace than before.

He had to return it. And she would _definitely_ be there to receive it.

She _would._

Namie wasn't the one to answer the door when he reached her family's apartment. It was her guardian.

"Oh," the brunette woman—the girl's adoptive mother, Taji, if he recalled—stared down at him, surprised. Naturally, she'd been expecting her daughter and not her daughter's teammate. She looked tired; worn and a bit dirty, as if she'd only just returned moments before his house call. He felt a bit guilty interrupting her when she clearly needed to rest. "Kasuga-kun, right? Namie's teammate? Is there something you needed?" she asked, perplexed.

"U-um, is Namie here?"

Taji's eyebrows drew together uncertainly. "No, she isn't. Wasn't your team on a mission together today?" There was a tinge of suspicion in her tone that didn't sit well with either of them. She cast her gaze towards the village, as if expecting to see her daughter tromping along the pathway towards their home.

Kasuga followed the direction of her gaze, hoping for the same thing, but when there was no such sight to be seen, his eyes flicked back to the senior shinobi. "We were. She left first, but…but Hiroto-sensei has something to tell the team. I'm here—er, I-I _was_ here to get her." His heart thundered in his chest as the meaning of her absence settled in. If she wasn't here, and she wasn't there…

And her hitai-ate wasn't with her…

"Taji-san…" The medic timidly held out the girl's forehead protector with a trembling hand, expression uneasy. "I-I'm sure this is Namie's. But…but I don't know what this means."

"What does what mean?" A third voice cut through the tension, and a familiar redhead came into view on the top of the stairs. She carried three grocery bags packed with what could only be the day's dinner, and held them up with a grin. "I brought dinner!" Kushina approached the two curiously, surveying their pained, troubled faces with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, what's with those looks, 'ttebane? I heard you say her name—Namie-chan is here, right?" There was silence. "Taji…?" Her crooked grin faded into a hesitant frown as the others' grave expressions persisted, and the plastic bags lowered to hang limply at her sides.

"Kushina," Taji stepped out onto the landing and hurried towards the Uzumaki girl, setting her hands on her shoulders urgently. "You didn't see Namie on the way here, did you?"

"I didn't. What the—just what's goin' on?"

Kasuga took a quick breath and steeled himself. There was no time to waste if there was a chance his teammate was in trouble. "Um, Hiroto-sensei said to meet at the administration building. H-he—I have to tell him about this."

"I'm going with you," Taji quickly stated. "Kushina—could you stay here? Wait—wait for Namie. She might come home." Her words were spoken anxiously; her thoughts were scattered.

No one expected something like this to happen.

The bags fell to the ground. "No way. Namie's not—you're kiddin' me, right?" Kushina caught on to the meaning of the woman's words and furiously shook her head. "I'm coming too, 'ttebane! I'm helping!"

"Kushina, _please_—"

"She'd do the same for me! She…she kind of _did_." The redheaded chuunin curled her hands into fists, standing firm in her decision. "And Minato isn't here, so...I can't just..._sit_ here doing _nothing!_"

There was no time to waste arguing over this. "Fine. We're going to the Hokage administration building."

She hoped—they _all_ hoped—Namie would be waiting there, too.

* * *

Instead of returning with a familiar blonde, Kasuga had two different kunoichi in tow.

And one was a woman Hiroto would have rather not seen.

"Namie never came home. Kasuga-kun found this." Taji shoved the threadbare forehead protector at the other jounin, and by the look on her face, he was certain it belonged to the blonde. He was also certain he was soon to be verbally thrashed.

But that was the least of his worries. "She's missing? You think it's related to the kidnappings?"

"It's too soon to say. But she wouldn't just _drop _something like this."

"We need to check around everywhere before getting all worked up," Hiroto eased, though there was an edge to his tone. Taji's stares were accusing and enraged, as if she blamed him for the girl's absence when he'd had no control over it whatsoever. But, it was his responsibility to appease her, as the girl's guardian. She was acting as a worried parent, now—not a troublesome colleague he was at odds with. "I'll send a clone."

"I will, too." The brunette nodded, and she and the other jounin performed the hand seals for shadow clones in unison, producing one doppelgänger each, which they quickly directed outwards to scout the village.

Kushina stepped towards her two seniors and quickly interjected her own thoughts on the matter, recalling her own kidnapping situation from some years before. "What if there's no time for that? If she _did _get taken away, there's a chance we can still get to her."

"She's right," Taji agreed.

"There's no telling where they went," Hiroto replied, running a hand over his face. "But, if we do leave to search now...we could find out."

While they considered their options, Kasuga approached Kakashi, who stood by watching the spectacle, leaning against the building with his arms crossed behind his head. Too far out of ear shot to hear their words and not concerned enough to eavesdrop. "What happened?"

"I think—I think Namie was kidnapped. I found her forehead protector in a park." The orange-haired boy wrung his hands together, looking guilty.

Kakashi briefly glanced over his teammate's glum, worried frown and scoffed. "Kidnapped? No way. That girl wouldn't—" he stopped short as thoughts of the scattered kidnapping incidents crossed his mind. One or two_ had_ reportedly been genin. If she'd been alone, caught unawares… Not only that, but for minor D-rank missions, the team never armed themselves seriously. She still had ninjutsu, but if she'd been knocked out, that was moot. Thinking logically, it wasn't impossible, if the perpetrator was smart about it. For that reason alone, he doubted his words. He slowly lowered his arms to his sides and straightened his posture, turning to the medic with a serious glint in his eyes, as if seeking confirmation. "Would she?"

"I don't know. I hope not. What—what do we do if she _is?_"

"You two don't do _anything_," their teacher's voice cut in, capturing their attention. He'd appeared at their sides and caught the end of their conversation after discussing the matter with the two kunoichi. "I mean it. Don't even think about it. You two are to remain here. But Taji-senpai is right—if Namie was taken, it's better to act fast and catch her captor's trail. I'm going outside the gates to see what I can find."

"But—" Kasuga began, despite Hiroto's words.

"_No 'buts_.'" His tone hardened with cold authority, yet did nothing to deter the two.

Kakashi crossed his arms, defiant. "She's our teammate. You really expect us to stay here?"

"This isn't something for_ genin _to handle. _Stay here._" The man's words were final. With a nod to Taji, who glared with an unpleasant look, Hiroto body-flickered away.

"He's right. It's best for you to stay here and wait for the clones to come back." Taji stepped towards the two genin and tried to smile, but the gesture was forced. Rushed. "If there's no news, take the issue to Sandaime-sama. I'm going to look outside the village, too, to cover more area."

When she turned to leave, Kushina made to follow her. "I'll go, too."

The brunette was quick to shoot her down. "No. _You _need to stay here, Kushina. If Namie comes around and this was all a misunderstanding, she should have someone waiting for her."

"But I—"

"Please don't make me say it." _You can't leave recklessly; you're the Ninetail's jinchuuriki. Important to Konoha._ The words didn't need to be spoken aloud.

The girl's determined violet stare softened, and she looked away in disappointment. "_Fine._ I get it."

"She'll come back. Don't worry." Taji cast a firm, meaningful gaze across the three young shinobi before taking off after her colleague.

Once the woman was out of sight, the redhead surveyed the two genin with a passive expression. Really, what were those two thinking, leaving three young and eager, capable shinobi together without supervision when something so dire was going on with someone close to them?

Did they really think they would just _sit still?_

Kushina set a hand on her hip and nodded approvingly. Two genin and a chuunin—it wasn't a bad combination. Basically, all combined, they were equal to at least one jounin, she was sure. There was no reason to be on standby when they could contribute. "So, you're Namie-brat's teammates."

Kakashi sent the redhead a deadpan stare. "We're going after her, aren't we?"

"Hell yeah we are, 'ttebane!"

* * *

Namie couldn't be sure how long the caravan had been traveling. The moon was too difficult to spot from between the old wooden boards, so the time of night was unknown. She was still at a loss over how to handle the rescue mission.

"Any ideas yet, nee-chan?" Obito prodded, for what the blonde counted to be the dozenth-or-so time. Once he'd calmed down, some switch had flipped and his annoying mode returned. "I kinda need to use the bathroom. I feel a little sick."

She was on the verge of telling him to just go piss in a corner—as crass as it was—because this place was far from a five-star hotel, but the word "sick" caught her attention.

This wasn't an impossible situation. She could make things work in her favor. The gears in her mind worked swiftly, running through a roughly outlined scenario of escape—and then another, and just one more, just to be safe. Her plans weren't always the best, and worked more appropriately if only one or two others were involved—_Kasuga _was the one who took all who were present into account. But on her own, this was all she could do.

If she could somehow get the kidnappers to stop the caravan…

That was step one.

Then, she could get the children free and then lead them to safety under the cover of the surrounding forest—if this turned in her favor.

It _would_ be reckless, however. No matter what she tried, there was a risk. There was no way out of this situation one-hundred percent unharmed. But as long as she was the one who suffered that endangerment, it was fine.

She could keep herself alive, at the very least—and live she _would_. There were many, many things she still had to do and expiring here was not among them.

"Obito-kun," Namie spoke evenly, plan of action set. "I need your help again."

"Uh—me? Okay. Sure. What do I do, nee-chan?" He shifted his goggles to where they were sitting over his eyes, and grinned confidently. The boy certainly picked himself up fast when the outlook was positive.

"I need you to look after these three. Meiko-chan, Kaori-chan, Jun-kun—will you stay together with Obito-kun and follow him no matter what?"

The three nodded together.

"Good. Alright, here's the plan…" Namie quickly explained her idea in simple terms. Then, for good measure, she summarized it. Of course, the only part they understood was the crucial element that they needed to avoid being seen and caught, and to remain at Obito's side while he led them to safety.

Once they were all in agreement, the genin set to work on discreetly loosening the floorboards of the cart to make a hole large enough for the children to fit through—using her chakra in the same manner that had been used to untie the ropes, like a crowbar.

There was no guarantee this plan would work. If things went to shit, they could all end up dead.

She wasn't certain she could handle that on her conscience.

But, the more time that passed, the further away Konoha became. Who knew if they were even still within the Fire Country.

It was the only thing she could do, now.

"H-hey! Driver! Whoever's out there! This kid isn't breathing!" Namie called out loudly, a few moments after the makeshift escape hatch was complete, forcing a rising panic into her voice. "Is he—is he _dead!?_"

There was the mumbling sound of voices arguing outside—the cart came to an abrupt, lurching stop.

Step one complete.

Namie rushed to usher the children through the hole and underneath the stalled cart, safely out of sight and harm's way, for the time being. Then, she grasped one of the ripped-up floor planks and waited near the door, ready to ambush whoever was unlucky enough to open it.

"What's the problem? Which kid—" The man's voice cut off in a strangled, startled yelp as the wooden board was swung directly into his face, effectively knocking him back. Namie wasted no time in jumping out after him.

One Decapitation jutsu later, the man was out of commission, buried up to the shoulders in dry, packed dirt and knocked unconscious. She'd made sure to nick a few shuriken off of his person during the attack, and was now armed, waiting pressed against the back of the caravan for one of his cohorts to come and check the damage.

Now that she was out in the open, it was clear that there were two caravans present—and four enemies not including the one she'd just made short work of. If there had been any more, escape was impossible.

She couldn't hold off the whole group in her current state, especially if they were competent shinobi—the thin man she'd just taken down was equipped with ninja tools, and he probably would have given her trouble if he hadn't been caught lax and unaware. So, they were definitely a band of rogue ninja.

Namie could only hope, and pray, that she was capable of stalling them long enough for the children to escape, at the very least.

If the kids ran now, hid in the brush and used the cover of darkness, they could make it.

They_ should_ make it.

Only…something wasn't right.

Obito should have led them away the moment she'd attacked the one captor.

"Come on," Namie hissed, tightening her grip on the shuriken and solidifying her offensive stance in an attempt to overpower the pull of exhaustion edging into her nerves. "Go!" Now was as good a time as ever. The bandits were all on the other side of the small entourage, leaving the side closest to the woodlands completely unguarded.

Finally, the children moved in a rustle of bare feet against dirt, scampering from beneath the cart and rushing towards the foliage.

Not even a second after they acted, the blonde lunged out from behind cover and aimed a torrent of projectiles towards the oncoming enemy. He was forced to halt and knock the shuriken away with his kunai, but that one moment of distraction was all Namie needed to attack. In a flash, she dropped low, swiped her leg in a strong arc and letting it collide harshly with the nin's own, knocking him off balance. While he fell, before he could recover, she shifted forwards and stomped mercilessly on his chest, swiping the kunai from his hand, and pushing off from his body to launch herself towards the next opponent.

This failed.

A hand grabbed her leg, and in the next instant she was thrown to the hard ground, winded.

It was impossible to use the element of surprise as an advantage against all of them—she knew that. They were definitely prepared and well-equipped to handle such things. In the midst of her blurring vision and pained state, she heard a scream—a child's scream.

She'd known this from the start, but she hadn't been in top form the entire night. Exhaustion continued to linger with no ebb, and after using such high concentrations of chakra to help build the basis to her escape plan, she couldn't continue to attack with ninjutsu. Probably, she only had enough left in her reserves for one more technique. Taijutsu was her best hope after that, if she could maintain the strength for it.

Before Namie could gather her senses and return to her feet, a rough hand took her arm in a vice grip and twisted it behind her back, ruthless. A kunai pushed dangerously against her throat and all she could do was grit her teeth. But not cry out. She refused to show any weakness of pain or defeat to some thug _nobody_ like this.

The point of the blade dug into her skin as the man spoke, mumbled to himself more than to her. "Cheeky brat—no one told us a little shinobi was mixed in with this batch." For the way he spoke, she may as well not have been there. May as well not have mattered.

To them, they were nothing more than cargo.

Failure. This was…failure, wasn't it? Unease and hopelessness roiled grotesquely within her chest as she was jerked to her feet and pitched against the side of the traveling cart. Starbursts flickered before her eyes as she sank to her knees and bit back a groan, head swimming. Something trickled down the side of her face.

"Careful not to kill them," a gravelly voice called, unconcerned, flippant. "But if you have to, injure them enough to keep them from running."

_Injure them? _Did that mean the children were intercepted?

Even so, saying such a callous thing…

She was supposed to_ protect_ them. Keep them safe, send them home in one piece. _There was no way she could be stopped here. _

As the man who attacked her approached, kicked into her side to knock her to the ground, Namie grasped his leg and held fast, mustering up the power to twist it viciously, ideally enough to break it.

By the way it snapped—by the way the man screamed, she succeeded.

She swiftly separated herself from the man and dove beneath the wooden cart, dragging herself through the dirt on hands and knees, to rejoin the children on the other side.

Something stopped her.

A small child huddled in her path, curled in on himself, holding his legs tightly to his chest and burying his head against his knees.

"Wha—_Obito?_ What happened? You need to go!" She gave a slight push at his arm, but he remained as he was, only glancing her way hopelessly. His face was a mess with snot and tears and his eyes revealed nothing but hesitation and fear.

"N-nee-chan. I-I can't. I'm just—I froze. They all got scared a-and ran, but I..." his voice trailed off as he sniffled.

"Quit _blubbering!_ You have to get moving—" A hand grabbed at her leg, reaching underneath the cart and attempting to drag her backwards. Obito released a startled cry at the sight and made to reach out to the blonde, but refrained as she twisted around to scowl at her captor.

The nin whose leg she'd snapped held fast to her ankle, applying a steady, awful pressure—meant to break it in retaliation, she was certain—and without pausing to think, she smashed her other foot into his face, hearing him release a pained outcry as his nose was undoubtedly crushed.

His hold failed immediately and she shoved Obito forwards, too impatient to be gentle. "Go! Run! Catch up with the others and help them. I told you you could do this, so pull yourself together and do it!"

Her severe, insistent tone spooked him into action—he quickly scurried out from below the wooden cart and scrambled to catch up with the other children.

Namie took a moment to check that her captor was, indeed, out of commission, and found him writhing in pain, clutching at his bleeding face behind her, curled in on himself much as Obito had been. He wouldn't be moving anytime soon, she was sure.

As she turned back around to follow after the small Uchiha, an abrupt scream met her ears. She didn't waste any more time. She hurried to the other side of the cart and surveyed the area, eyes instantly seeking the children.

They had been caught. Obito, along with the others, was backed against an earth-style wall jutsu that barred their escape into the forest. Two of the other kidnappers were closing in from either side to recapture them.

The plan was a failure. But—there had to be another way.

Just one more—if she used the Decapitation technique once more, to take just _one_ of these men out of action, the kids could run. Namie rapidly performed the hand seals and set her sights on the enemy nearest to her.

Just as she reached through the earth, hand outstretched, something grabbed her exposed arm firmly, interrupting the technique, and wrenched her from the ground as easily as if she were nothing more than a weed.

"You are giving us unnecessary trouble." It was the same, rough voice that had condoned harm to the children. Uncaring and empty—unconcerned enough to make her blood run cold like ice. By the way he spoke, so detached, inhuman, she may as well have been an insignificant weed.

She expected to be thrown, yet she was simply held, dangling uselessly, above the cracked dirt, frozen.

Her arm was numb. The man who held her—a large, muscled man, bigger than she'd ever seen, and that included the Akimichi clan—was built with steadfast grit. His calloused hands were easily as big as her entire head, very able to crush it, and with the way he gripped her entire forearm in his hold, she was certain it must have been broken. Her eyes connected with his—dark and slanted, bottomless pits. There was no mercy. Only cold. If he wanted to kill her, he wouldn't even so much as blink, and he made no effort to hide his obvious bloodlust. Probably, she would find his picture in the Bingo Book if she were to look through it.

But the detail that drew her attention and held it was the Iwagakure emblem on his hitai-ate.

"Iwa? Why—"

Her revelation was cut short as the man reached ruthlessly for her left leg, unquestionably intending to break it and to finish the job his cohort had been unable to do. To keep her from moving. His fingers encircled the limb, and, like a steel trap, began to close in with a crushing force—

—A spiked column of earth rushed up from the ground and pile-drived the man's side, forcing him to release his heavy hold on her as he was knocked away—but he didn't lose his balance, no, only skidded to the side, holding his battered torso with barely a grimace of reaction.

The attack had been aimed in such a way that it was less damaging because it was meant to avoid catching her in the crossfire. It was a familiar jutsu.

"Namie, get out of here!"

"Hiroto-sensei?"

Sure enough, her teacher had appeared to engage the fearsome Iwa bandit and was currently deadlocked against him, countering an earth-style retaliation with a fire-style jutsu of his own, setting the darkness of the night ablaze.

But—that wasn't all. Once she was out of harm's way, she sought out the children. They were still trapped between the two other ninja, who were likely Iwa-nin as well.

She moved, making the mistake of leaning weight on the arm she'd been held by—but her leg was fine, it was left intact—and toppled to the dirt as a searing pain shot through it. It was definitely broken. But she still had _one _arm.

There was still something she could do.

Namie pushed herself to her feet and rushed towards the taller man who had grabbed onto Meiko and crashed into his side, driving the elbow of her good arm deep into his ribs so he released the girl—feeling a satisfying crack—and knocking him into his partner. They stumbled, dropping to the ground and Namie fell with them, using her full weight to at least keep them from reacting immediately, as it was impossible to subdue them both at once.

"Go! All of you!" The three youngest scattered immediately, yet the Uchiha remained, terrified.

"_Obito_, you too! Get out of here!" As she moved to disentangle herself from the struggling shinobi, something lodged into her side, something dangerously cold—

Ripped through her mesh armor, that useless, thin armor, and split into her flesh—

"_Nee-chan!_"

Namie jerked away from the group and pressed her hand to her waist, grasping hold of the kunai embedded in her skin, nearly up to the hilt.

'_Are you _kidding_ me?'_

It wasn't as deep as it _could_ have been, but it was wedged in at such an angle that she wasn't sure if it had pierced anything vital, and her body was small. If she removed it, she would bleed, that was certain. That wasn't an option.

But—

One of the enemies who'd finally regained his footing had captured Obito—flailing and doing his best to get free. The other had fled, running for the caravan to escape and salvage what was left.

The Iwa nin had the boy's leg in his grip, ready to twist and break it.

There was no time to think.

Namie yanked the kunai free, clenching her jaws tightly to keep from screaming because _god_ did it burn and it bled and the air touching the gaping injury felt horrifying because it wasn't a wise thing to do, not at all—and then impaled the man's back, burying the blade up to the hilt near his kidney and crashing to her knees as soon as it was done, fighting the urge to vomit away the vertigo and failing as the pain escalated.

He instantly dropped—but she hadn't _killed_ him with that, she knew. That hadn't been a killing blow.

No—there was a kunai sticking out of his forehead. Straight into the brain, like a perfect zombie headshot kill.

And then a small figure leapt down from the dirt wall one of the enemies had constructed, landing between Obito and Namie.

"_Kakashi?_"

* * *

By what could only be a stroke of luck, Kushina and the two boys of Team One had picked up on the kidnapper's trail soon after leaving Konoha. It was strange—the dirt path's trail of traveling wagons was clear as day. If they were smart, they'd have done their best to cover it. However, as long as it worked in their favor, that was what mattered.

They'd caught up with Taji and Hiroto in a matter of moments.

"What—" The ANBU medic was the first to notice their arrival. "_What _are you three doing here!? Kushina—I asked you to stay back!" She came to a stop, digging her feet into the next branch she landed on, and aimed a furious glare at the children.

Hiroto stopped soon after, and the entire group was at a standstill. "I wasn't asking when I said you should stay behind. It was an order," he spoke firmly, eyes narrowed at his genin. Certainly, he would have expected something like this from Namie, but not these two.

"We can't just do _nothing_," the redhead pointed out, resolute.

Hiroto crossed his arms. "This could be anywhere from A to S-rank. It's too dangerous for all of you. It isn't like training. You need to go back to the village. Now." Why, oh why, did their rebellious streak have to emerge during such a critical time?

"It's nothing we _can't_ handle," Kakashi countered.

Kasuga nodded. "Namie is—she's in danger. We have to try. She's…one of _us_." His voice shook, yet his words held unwavering determination.

The dark-haired jounin regarded them quietly. If he could, he would return them to Konoha himself. Oh, and the promise that they would participate in the upcoming chuunin exam? He'd been so close to granting it earlier that night, but that privilege had definitely been revoked. For this, they would remain genin for _at least_ another year, or maybe for as long as he could help it.

As it was, time was wasting. There was no time to argue with them, when they were so set on this. And if there was danger about, leaving genin outside of Konoha unsupervised, unprotected, would just make things worse.

"Fine. Stay close to me and don't do anything reckless." He turned to Taji. "We're going ahead."

"Great! Let's get going, 'ttebane!" Kushina made to follow the three as they continued onwards, but Taji stopped her.

"_You_ need to go back. It isn't safe for you out here, and I can't protect you on my own if we have to go too far out and encounter trouble."

"I'm fine. I'll be fine! I can look after myself."

"You're important to the village, Kushina. This isn't up for debate."

"But…it's _Namie._"

"She wouldn't want you to endanger your position either."

"If we just stand around here, it might be too late!"

Taji ran her hands through her hair with a sigh. "I'll take you back to the village and alert the Hokage. Gather a search team. Maybe then—maybe then you accompany us."

"That's a huge waste of time. We're already this far." Kushina bit her lip. "I'll stay with you the whole time. We should go with them."

Taji stared at the redhead for a long moment, both battling with their wills, but somehow she always managed to cave first. "Fine. Let's go."

Hiroto and Team One caught sight of the stalled caravan soon after parting ways with the two kunoichi. By the looks of it, they'd been headed towards the small country between the Land of Fire and The Land of Earth. One of the kidnappers was out of action—buried within the earth.

A group of four children were cornered by two armed enemies and Namie—Namie was the one responsible for this chaos by the looks of things. She was currently detained by a startlingly familiar face—a rogue, S-ranked shinobi from Iwagakure who had a moderate bounty on his head. Who shouldn't have been anywhere near Konoha.

Another wooden cart was stopped in front of the other, probably full of more kidnapped children. There were no more enemies in sight. As it was, the missing-nin was the only one who presented a dire threat. It was someone he could barely handle alone.

"I'm going after Namie. You two stay here until I engage the enemy, then go in and help her escape. Once she's out of harm's way, help those four children. Take everyone and get back to Konoha immediately." Hiroto cast his two students a quick glance, to confirm they understood.

When it was clear they did, he took off immediately to engage the Iwagakure nin, performing the hand seal for the Earth Flow Spears technique.

Naturally, the two genin had their own interpretation of their captain's plan.

As soon as Namie was released from the enemy's hold, they moved.

"What is she doing—?" Kasuga cringed as their teammate attempted to take on the two other nin on her own, then he bit back a startled cry when the girl was impaled with a kunai. He couldn't be sure if it was fatal from his vantage point, but it would definitely require immediate care.

"She's trying to get herself killed, is what." Kakashi took a moment to scan their surroundings, ensuring that those two rogues were their only concern, and then turned to his teammate. "I'm going to take out those guys. Hang back until I get there and then go for her. She needs healing."

"Right." Kasuga stopped his advance and remained in the cover of the trees a short distance away from the earth-style wall where the current battle was taking place.

The silver-haired boy continued on, then came to a stop crouched upon the top of the dirt wall, kunai in hand—aimed it very precisely at the enemy standing below him and attacked.

* * *

Kakashi glanced over his shoulder at the familiar, dark-haired boy that spoke his name. He'd been one of his classmates during his short time at the Academy, if he recalled. His name slipped his mind, though, because he'd been as annoying as all the others. It didn't much matter now, though. "Oh, you."

Kasuga joined them, and carefully examined his teammate's wound. The damage was greater, now, due to the fact that she'd roughly pulled the weapon out and tore her skin further.

"Get him—get him out of here. The other kids ran. We have to get them back, too… Take them back to the village." Namie gripped the medic's shirt as she struggled to speak, breathing labored. "Don't worry about me, I'm…_fine_."

Her front was stained with blood, but he wasn't certain how much of it was hers; if the injury was bleeding out fatally, considering its location. She'd overexerted herself and was on the brink of unconsciousness. There was also a shallow injury to the side of her head, which soaked the side of her face all the way down to the edge of her jawline in blood. Possibly, she had a concussion on top of everything else. She most certainly was not _fine._

"Namie, don't push yourself. Let me heal this first." Kasuga's words were uncharacteristically strict and rushed, and served to shock the girl into silence when she tried to protest. He turned to his other teammate. "Kakashi-kun…can you go after the children? They headed in the direction of Konoha, but they'll probably get lost. It's our job to protect them, too. I can handle things here."

Kakashi cast a brief glance around the perimeter, noting once again that the area around them was clear, then nodded. He waved a hand nonchalantly at Obito to catch his attention, but he'd been watching the trio intently the entire time. "Right. Hey, you. Follow me."

Obito moved to follow the silver-haired boy, but stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the blonde. "Is nee-chan gonna be okay?"

Kasuga kept silent for a moment. "She will be. Don't worry." He spoke with absolute conviction.

Namie watched them go, then, and only when they were out of sight, let her gaze flicker to the orange-haired boy. His hands were aglow, near her wound, and the cooling feeling of chakra surrounded the stinging pain in her abdomen. "You should've gone with them. No one can protect you, you're…the medic." She coughed. "My arm's broken. I can barely move. I'm _no help_."

"It'll be fine." He offered her a fleeting, comforting smile, but his brow was furrowed. "I can't do much for this here, only stop the bleeding. We have to get you to the hospital. I'm not sure—can't tell if anything major was pierced, but—"

Before any more could be done, an arm closed around Kasuga's neck and dragged him backwards.

Namie made a weak grab for him, eyes wide. "Kasuga!"

It was an enemy—the one whose nose was mauled, leaving his face a bloody mess. Whose leg she'd broken, or maybe only dislocated, yet he must have ignored the pain and hauled himself towards them while they were occupied after he regained his senses and spotted the struggle. But he was weak. If she acted quickly, hit him where it hurt, on his leg or face, he would release her teammate.

Namie reached for the kunai that was wedged into the head of the rogue Kakashi had taken down with her good hand, but her grip was too shaky and feeble to remove it immediately, as she wanted. She quickly turned to her teammate—he was being strangled, struggling, yet the rogue nin did nothing to ease his chokehold. If anything, he tightened it.

He couldn't perform any jutsus—his hands were too busy clawing at his assailant's arm. Desperate. Afraid.

She needed to do something.

"Sensei!"

She glanced towards Hiroto—he was still combating the bull of an enemy, wearing him down little by little. He was fully occupied. Couldn't be relied upon.

_Why_ was she so useless when her team needed her the most?

The kunai was still buried deep in the skull, and she was no closer to working it loose than she'd ever been. Her limbs were weak. Heavy. Her dominant arm was wrecked, she barely had the strength to move, shock was rearing its ugly head, and the air felt incredibly cold.

_She just had to try harder._

With a yell, Namie wrenched the blade free and turned immediately towards her teammate and his captor. They were only a short distance away—she could make it if she—

Her vision blurred. Went fuzzy. Darkness lingered near the edges, yet she did her best to remain on her knees, blinking hard to will the lightheaded feeling away as she crawled towards her teammate, swaying. '_Come on, stupid body. Stupid, weak, kid's body…move! Keep going!_'

But it wouldn't.

There was no way she could make it. No way she could strike. Not like that.

_She _couldn't do this. Couldn't save him. The kunai trembled in her grasp as she held her hand out, offering the weapon to her teammate.

He had to save himself.

"K…_Kasuga!_"

One eye cracked open to see the kunai being stretched towards him, and the boy reached, reached, stretched out his hand to secure it with the strength he had remaining—and as he felt his fingers just encircled the cool steel, there was hope—

The weapon was ripped from her hold, leaving her hand numb.

Empty.

The man with the smashed nose leered at her, looked her directly in the eye, and his lips stretched in a bloody grin and it was the face of a nightmare filled with cruelty and no mercy, no regard for the puny, insignificant life of a child—and revenge and retribution, the desire to see others in pain, suffering, to give back what he'd felt twice over, but only in the worst way, because injuries could be healed but stolen lives could never be returned.

It was a sight she would never forget. A sound she would never shake. It would remain within her ears, buzzing constantly, driving her into the edge of madness and always serving as a reminder that she was useless and never would be as strong as she wanted to be, because when her teammate needed her the most—

When his head was pulled back roughly to expose his neck and the kunai's blade was pressed into his skin, unyielding, cutting, _ravaging_, gnawing through muscle and ligaments, through _bone_, tearing through it all and razing it until there was nothing left connecting it to his body and there was a gush and spray of that awful red—red, _always_ red—seeping down from his severed neck onto the ground with a god-awfully horrifying, dull splash—

And his body dropped with a heavy dull, final thump, crumpling like a ragdoll on the ground, unrecognizable, because what was a body without its head? It was nothing it wasn't alive there was nothing there—not anymore and never again would be ever, never ever because the blood was still flowing, it would keep dripping out, churning out, flooding, pooling—

And his head was thrown towards her, landing with a hollow, hollow, hollow, wet, damp thud right in front of her and it stared, eyes glassy, vacant, no longer warm but cold, empty, nothing, _nothing_—

And it stared—

It stared—

_It stared_—

—She didn't move.

_She_ was the one who dealt that killing strike, because she'd handed the weapon over, stupidly, _stupidly_ placing it right in the murderer's hands and being too weak to stop him.

No.

Nonono.

_No._

If only she'd killed the man instead of left him injured—if only she hadn't been negligent. Lazy. Overconfident.

It was her.

She'd killed him.

_This was her fault. _

And he knew it, he knew, because he _stared_, watching her, accusing her, burning his final moments, his last expression, into her memories, because he wouldn't let her forget it, because it was _her fault—_

This time, she could feel everything—feel it all, and too much, to the point where she may as well have been numb and feeling nothing at all, because everything, all at once, was overbearing, painful, agonizing, and it _hurt._ It hurt so badly she couldn't move. She couldn't take it. She couldn't breathe.

Everything was dissolving into black, an abyss that she wanted to fall into, to forget, to just _stop_, and stay there, away from the suffering. Dark silhouettes of hands reached for her, grabbed her, and wrapped around her throat to take her in and grant her that sweet oblivion and the last thing she knew—the last thing she _felt—_was her body hitting the cold, unwelcoming dirt.

* * *

Kushina and Taji encountered the group of fleeing children on their way to rejoin Hiroto and his team. Then, shortly after, Kakashi and Obito arrived.

"Did you find Namie?" Taji questioned, urgent, as Kushina tended to the sobbing children, doing her best to calm them.

"Kasuga's with her. Hiroto-sensei is fighting," the silver-haired boy reported.

Taji's nodded. "Kushina. Kakashi-kun. Take these children back to the village—" the redhead opened her mouth to protest, but the brunette held up a hand to silence her. "No arguing. This is an order from your superior. Get back quickly and stay out of sight if you have to. And once you're there, go straight to the Hokage. I'll send a clone with you." She quickly ran through the hand seals for a shadow clone to accompany the return party.

The redhead paused, deliberating, but eventually nodded, crestfallen. It only took her a moment to pick up her spirits and gather her resolve. "Alright. We'll go back."

* * *

Taji arrived at the scene of...a bloodbath. There was no other way to describe it. Had she not been desensitized to the matter, it would have caught her off-guard, forced acrid bile into the back of her throat—but even so, even if she'd been conditioned to the violent, unsavory world of assassins and death, she couldn't help but feel that there was an inefficient amount of seething, silent rage involved in the matter—and Hiroto was the only one left standing. Still. Dazed.

Three of the bandits were dead, two beheaded, both recognizable from the Bingo Book, yet there was another headless corpse—a _child's—_and her heart lurched painfully as she spotted her daughter, unmoving, among the dead.

The girl was covered in blood—quite nearly as much as the others—and her arm was lying, twisted, at an unnatural angle.

She held her breath. Froze her lungs. Didn't dare to breathe.

Didn't want to see, to know—

But it had to be done.

Taji was at the girl's side in an instant, hoping for a pulse—_and it was there._ But slow. There was a wound on her torso that continued to bleed. Her internal organs were damaged, yet she'd been brought back from the threshold of danger when some of the injuries were reversed. Her teammate must have done his best to heal her before he'd...fallen. No. Before he'd been murdered. She couldn't bear to look at the severed head that remained near Namie's body.

She understood her colleague's cold fury.

Finally, he moved. Turned to stare at the woman, as if he'd only just noticed her arrival. No one would ever think that he'd been the one to decapitate two of the Iwa-nin, for his calm, cool composure had returned.

Hiroto turned away again, busied himself with packing the two bloodied heads into a storage scroll for later bounty check before approaching the ANBU medic, paying no heed to the pools of blood he stepped through. He very pointedly avoided looking at any of his students, and even averted his gaze from Taji once he was near. "One of them escaped. Took the other caravan. I'm going after him." His tone was unfeeling, empty. Definite. What they were both used to from ANBU. He'd shut down; compartmentalized. But rather than for business, it was a coping mechanism.

She could understand. She could. But...with the state Namie was in, she couldn't find it within herself to empathize or feel sorry for him. Not then.

She didn't reply. Only set to work on patching up the girl's wounds enough that she would be able to withstand the trip back to Konoha. She would leave the bodies behind—even the boy's. A support team would arrive soon, once Kushina and the genin returned to the village and alerted the others. The remnants of the criminals would be burned. The genin's body would be transported back along with them.

For some, the decision to leave a comrade's body behind was morally ambiguous, but choices had to be made with the living in mind.

Namie was her priority.

* * *

"_Namie._"

A familiar call.

"Namie?"

A voice she knew—it resonated in the far reaches of her mind. Echoed.

"Can you hear me? You were hit pretty hard..."

Her head ached; hammered dizzily and everything was muddled. Confused. A messed-up tangle that she couldn't quite grasp to straighten out. Everything was dark, but that was normal, since her eyes were closed. There was itchy grass beneath her, poking at her exposed skin, because she'd always chosen to wear shorts and she wasn't sure why, even now. The hard bark of a tree dug into her back and the leaves rustled dryly around them. She dug her fingers into the cool grass, if only to _feel_ it, to know for sure that it was real and not a dream or illusion, because even though she could feel it, it didn't register as real and she only felt that she was floating, nowhere.

A hand was set upon her shoulder lightly, gently, anchoring her. It was also a familiar touch. It belonged to _Kasuga._

"Ka — — ga?" She spoke in a heavy, garbled voice. Dry, cottony—her mouth felt like it had been washed in dirt and it took a bizarre amount of energy to simply form the words. The name was misplaced, but she wasn't quite sure why.

Everything hurt. Was weighed down. There were pains all throughout her body, and she felt that opening her eyes would drain her if she attempted it.

But...she _had_ to. Had to open them, to see, to shake the feeling that she was part of a horrible nightmare or a genjutsu. It was vague and formless, only a concept, but she was absolutely certain that something horrible had happened and that, by hearing her friend's voice, that it was somehow dispelled. Reversed.

Slowly, painstakingly, she forced her heavy eyelids apart—a burst of sunlight reflexively made her shut them once again and shift her head away and blink to adjust to the sight.

Kasuga's green-gloved hand was on her shoulder; she saw that first, as she cast a bleary gaze around and noted that her arms were still heavy. Her legs felt like lead and just turning her neck was taxing, but she did it anyway, to look at her teammate's face.

"What hap—"

And when she did, she was met with the sight that _was_ Kasuga but _wasn't_ because his head was no longer attached to his body and the hand that was on her shoulder belonged to a mere _body_, clothes painted red with blood, smeared, stained—and his head was clutched in the crook of his other arm, smiling at her tenderly, warm and caring, as she knew him to be—but his face was also drenched in red and there was red, so much red and slowly, his expression contorted into a bloody grin that was no longer his own, because...he was no more.

As soon as she realized he was dead, couldn't possibly be alive, because he'd been killed, brutalized, massacred, his corpse fell to the ground, lifeless, cold—but it wasn't really a ground, not anymore. What had once masqueraded as grass morphed into a pit of black, oozing tar, only it wasn't tar, it was blood. Deep, dark blood, so dark that it was almost black and it gushed forth from Kasuga's stump of a neck, endless, flooding everything. Rising, rising—

It flowed, seeped, from a deep gash in the center of her chest, black as an abyss, and as she pressed her hands to the broken crack of a wound to stop the gore, they stained red and she remembered, recalled everything. His blood was on her hands.

Kasuga was dead. Dead, because of her, and it was a sin like a deep, black mark on her life that would stay with her and she would carry it, because it was _her_ fault he was dead, it was _always her fault_ and it always _would_ be, because no matter how hard she tried, how desperately she wanted to change, her past would never let her go and it would cling, suffocate and pull her down.

It _was_ pulling her, holding onto her legs, constricting, and she just knew it was Kasuga dragging her down, exacting his revenge, because she'd killed him and he knew, he blamed her for it and it was her fault because she was _weak_. She couldn't protect anyone.

He wanted her dead, too.

She was up to her neck in the thick mire of blood. It just wouldn't stop, wouldn't leave her and she couldn't move, save for being sunk into the ocean of red, and soon submerged, to where all she could see and breathe and taste and feel was _death—_

And then, she thrashed. Flailed. Struggled, pulled, fought to reach the surface again. This wasn't her dead end. Death wasn't going to take her, not that easily, not again, not even if she deserved it, because she wanted to live.

_She wanted to live...!_

With a half-strangled yell, she jerked her limbs free, moving them, feeling them move and not simply hang there, paralyzed, and then her right arm smashed into something hard, _hard_, enough to where it sent an electric thrum of pain and surprise through her body and she jolted awake, eyes wide to the point of madness as she stared around to see that she was alone, only her, in a dimly-lit hospital room.

Namie caught her breath and forced the constant throbbing in her arm, her torso, her head, away from her mind, only letting her eyes rove throughout the room in a measured, controlled action to assure herself that, indeed, she was awake and within the safety of a hospital. Of Konoha. She almost laughed, because somehow she always ended up in this godforsaken place, to the point where she could recognize its plain white walls and sterile, unpleasant scent and the ugly washed-out mint, plastic curtains that separated the beds, but she couldn't.

She was alive. Banged up, but alive.

Mechanically, she reached for the thin, bleach-scented blankets she'd thrown off during her fit and did her best to straighten them out with her good arm. The other was broken, set in a heavy, obnoxious cast from her elbow to the end of her hand. Her head was wrapped in bandages and so was her waist—certainly, there were sutures beneath them. Something tugged at her skin each time she moved, and when she feared the strain was too much, she finally set back against the bed and gathered her scattered thoughts. Her legs shook. Trembled. They felt weak; her left wouldn't move well, as she willed it, and she feared that perhaps it had been damaged, too, only it lacked bandages to prove this.

After Kasuga's...

After Kasuga had fallen, there was a blank, dark gap in her memory.

She could remember everything up until that point. She knew that Kakashi had been there, too, and helped the children escape. She knew that Hiroto had been there—had saved her, just as her teammates did, but he'd been engaged with an enemy.

They'd all been there to rescue her, after all.

And they _did_ rescue her, because she'd been stupid, foolish, an S-ranked _moron_ to think that she could have handled everything alone and protected four children as well as herself against five trained shinobi.

Yet, when Kasuga was the one who'd needed saving...

Her heart lurched. Stomach soured, roiling with acid, and the urge to vomit overtook her as the vivid memories of his decapitation clawed their way into her brain.

She gripped at the side of the mattress, feeling only slightly sorry for making a mess on the tiles below, but it was a hospital. No one would blame her. No one could blame her. Not for that.

But...

She _could_ be blamed for Kasuga's death. It was inevitable. It was a black strike on her soul, now.

And it burned.

* * *

**A/N**: Chapter title was too long to fit in the selection box oops.

Eternal thanks for all reads/faves/follows! And special thank you to these fantastic reviewers: **bleachfan462, coronadomontes, milpld, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Counting Sinful Stars, Deluxemclovin, NightWithMoon, Kasuke. Hagase, Abundant E, maleficus-lupus, GlaresThatKill, littlemelonatplay, chaosrin, Neko-Mitsuko, angrypixels, SNicole25, Skelo, immortal chord, Slytherson, Jordy rox ur sox, Izumikii, Nightingale's Fall, Namie-chan** (nice name), **greymouser, **and** ZellaLaBella.**


	27. Twenty-four

**Part II**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-four: Time Goes On/Feet Planted Firmly on the Ground**

* * *

There was nothing pretty about death.

For the ones who died, it was over in an instant—but for the ones who remained behind, it was anything but final. It was messy. Painful. Guilt and regret weighed down with crushing force in the time of mourning and the ones closest to the deceased lamented, wondered what could have been done differently, what could have changed the outcome.

What they could have done better, what they _should_ have done, before their dear one was snatched away so quickly.

It was nothing but agonizing sorrow.

Certainly, it was a normal part of the life cycle. Everyone knew that. Everyone understood it. Everyone expected it, sooner or later and, eventually, everyone accepted it.

But no one could completely prepare themselves for the abrupt loss. Not even the strongest, most seasoned shinobi.

Kasuga's memorial service occurred a week after the kidnapping incident took place—however, Namie was in no condition to attend, was ordered to remain in bed, and even if she _did_ want to go, she couldn't walk there since her affected leg still refused to properly support her weight.

She didn't feel she would be welcome if she were to be present, since it was her fault he was nothing more than a name on a stone, now. There was no more Ueno Kasuga, not now—there was only a memory.

A bitter reminder.

Was there a chance that he, too, had been reborn? Somewhere, anywhere... _He_ deserved it. He was innocent, and kind—that fate had been far too horrible, for someone like him. For a _child._

If anyone should have been given a second chance—because she was the worst candidate for it, she was the worst_ person_—it was him.

Not her.

* * *

"Are we going to make it a habit to be seeing each other again?" Inori joked, lightly, calmly, if only to uplift the somber atmosphere that surrounded the blonde girl.

He'd already given her his condolences. He was well aware that she'd lost her teammate, but he didn't walk on eggshells, he didn't coddle her; didn't give her the same, tedious lectures the others did, assuring her that it wasn't her fault and that time would continue to flow—that the grieving process was natural and expected, and that, one day, she could move past the tragedy. And for that, she appreciated him—but she would have preferred it if he gave her the cold shoulder and shunned her, blamed her.

But he didn't know. None of them knew.

They didn't know that she'd killed Kasuga.

Her throat constricted, pulling taut, as she forced herself to speak. "No." It was all she could muster.

The doctor's dark blue eyes almost flinched, contorting sadly as he realized that his familiar patient was suffering, and not only from the recent loss. There was a greater grief within her, sitting heavy, like a stone, and she held onto it, refusing to share the pain. He'd heard of the situation. Knew that she witnessed the brutal death of her teammate at the hands of a vicious missing-nin, saw it with her very own eyes and suffered an unspeakable trauma that only those who had faced the same exact thing could comprehend. As it was, he couldn't. He'd seen death. He'd experienced loss at his own hands. All comrades. But none had been his genin teammates—they were special. And he wasn't quite as young when he experienced his first death.

Even so, as young as she was, she was a unique case—couldn't quite be considered a child in bereavement, but a small adult. Not many could understand that, but he could.

Namie had changed—death did change a person. Yet, this was different than the time she'd executed her first kill, just over a year ago. It was painful, because someone who had become an integral part of her life was ripped out of it, never to return.

"Ah...sorry," the jounin apologized, rubbing the back of his head, slightly ashamed. It was insensitive, to joke around now. It was too soon. Only eight days had gone by since the incident. The girl hadn't even had the spirits to accept any visitors since then—only Taji and the local medics in the surrounding wing had interacted with her. Hiroto was due in for a visit—or should have been, as the team instructor—yet the man was unreachable.

It was the first time his genin student had died, too. It was his first team.

In the aftermath of the event, all children from both caravans—ten in total, including Namie, because, despite her actions, she was also a victim—had been returned safely to Konoha. Four of the perpetrators had been killed during the chaotic fray, and one had been taken into the village's custody for interrogation.

They were all rogue nin from Iwagakure. Only two had bounties on their heads—one had been a rather notorious one.

There was no clear explanation or reasoning as to why they'd been kidnapping children from Konoha, especially in such a messy, foolish manner, and it was ruled as a human trafficking crime. A few, unsatisfactory answers came soon enough—the remaining Iwa nin broke easily under the tender care of the Torture and Interrogation unit. There was inside help, he said: selfish, low-ranking profit mongers in Konoha who'd been looking for a quick buck through the trade of young children. They'd struck a deal with a bordering country who then made contact with the cheapest and most willing rogues that would handle the risky transport, who happened to hail from the Earth Country.

The remaining Iwa shinobi was returned to his home country alive so they could determine his fate, but even if Konoha had been in the right concerning the methods they used to handle him while in their custody, along with the fact that _Iwa_ nin had been responsible for the ordeal, quiet tension sparked between the two countries.

Naturally, the two Konoha shinobi involved in organizing the matter were imprisoned for endangering the children of the village, fate to be determined.

The penalty favored execution.

Even with the captured Iwa shinobi's confession, there were several misplaced details that didn't add up.

This had been an isolated incident with no connection to the ongoing kidnappings, and the number of victims was grossly escalated compared to the sporadic cases that cropped up from time to time involving one or two children at most. However, the public wanted closure—most accepted this scandal as a scapegoat just to put it to rest.

The way the incident was handled was bizarre, especially for Earth Country nin. They should have been well capable of hiding their trail from the start. They should have known to cast genjutsu over their prisoners to keep them sedated—even if they were mostly civilian youth. This couldn't be written off as mere negligence.

However, there were no more answers to be had.

Many were simply thankful that this group of kidnapped children had been returned at all—his wife among them. She was six months pregnant with their first son, and couldn't imagine bringing him into a world where the young were so susceptible to kidnapping. The news of their return had eased her.

Only...that small peace of mind had cost the village one of its own in the process.

And another injured.

Namie's wounds were healing nicely. She'd suffered a mild concussion and minor internal organ damage from a kunai, though nothing would leave lasting effects. Only scars. It would have been a different case if she'd arrived at the hospital any later, or neglected to receive her guardian's medical attention when it was given.

Her right arm had been broken in two locations and was set to mend; would work fine, eventually. Nothing was as bad as it could have been, and she should be back on her feet once everything was restored.

At least, that was the initial assurance. There was still the problem with her left leg, which was more or less unresponsive and unable to hold her up. Nothing was wrong with it, not physically. The doctors had checked it. Taji had checked it. Even he'd checked it, but the issue wasn't there. No broken bones, no nerve damage, no...nothing.

The reason he was here to visit her was not a formality—it was because the problem had been evaluated as something psychological. And no one, aside from the very girl herself, knew Namikaze Namie's mind better than he did.

Even if that wasn't much to say.

The blond coughed, suddenly, and straightened his posture as he sat on one of the stools near the girl's bedside. She immediately glanced his way, brought out of her daze, and simply stared, waiting for him to speak.

Her silence, her blank gaze, was unnerving. So unlike her.

"Namie-chan," Inori began evenly, "is there anything you'd like to talk about?" There was no delicate way to mention the topic, other than to get her to bring it up herself. And he knew by the way she behaved that there were several things she needed to discuss. Only, he wasn't sure if she would enlighten _him_ so easily. It would take some persistence.

For a moment, there was a spark of clarity in her eyes—a familiar flare-up of annoyance that he typically noticed when he spoke that honorific she despised hearing so much from him. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Her blue eyes were empty, defeated, once again. She did, however, answer. "There's nothing to say."

"Oh, on the contrary, I think there is." He would pry. For her own good, she needed to let go of at least some of the troubles she held onto so tightly. It would be the first step to a full, healthy recovery.

Her grief was normal. She was in mourning. But the condition of her leg was something that needed to be handled before it become a greater issue. A sound physical state was important to help her overcome the death of her comrade; the mental anguish.

Finally, the girl—with some difficulty—sat up from the pillows behind her and regarded Inori with an unreadable expression. It wasn't just that it was indeterminable, but that there was nothing in particular there being displayed. No regret, no sadness, no anger—only a blank countenance, like a doll's facade. Eerily calm. Nothing could be gleaned from it.

And then, one of the starch-white pillows was flung towards his face, but sailed past it because her aim was poor and her left arm was not her strongest since she was still recovering and fragile, and it collided against the wall with a soft, muffled _whump_ before dropping to the ground.

It was a reaction. It was _something._ It was a sign to keep pushing forward.

Inori reached behind him to retrieve the cushion and fluffed it up slightly before setting it down at the foot of the girl's bed, gently. "I'm here to help you, you know. You haven't spoken about anything since you returned. Taji-san's concerned. Your family's worried. I don't think I have to say that I am, too, but well...I kind of just did."

There was the faintest trace of a crease between her eyebrows.

"Why don't you tell me about the kidnapping? What happened while you were there." No one had yet heard the detailed account from the girl's own mouth. But, more than for information, he was asking her so that she would have an outlet.

Namie let her eyes wander the room. Looked towards the window to the outside, which wasn't much of a view, as it faced the bland, beige siding of another building. Returned her gaze to the hospital bed, to her legs that were still beneath the blankets. She inhaled deeply before speaking. "I was an idiot is what happened, Inori-sensei."

Sluggishly, haltingly, she recounted the experience, but there was no personal touch to her tale. It was as bland and detached as a mission report, as if it were a bore. She very pointedly concluded her recollection as soon as she reached the part where Hiroto helped free her from the Iwa nin's hold, which was where Hiroto's own information on the situation could be stitched in for a more complete account.

She wouldn't breathe a word about Ueno Kasuga's death.

At the very least, it provided possible insight to the condition of her leg. The missing-nin had nearly mangled it and left it in a similar state to her arm—he'd been the one to break it, as well. Perhaps there was the lingering sensation of fear looming in her thoughts, and also—quite possibly—the belief that, if she _had_ been injured to such an extent that it could have somehow prevented the loss of her teammate—that it would have changed _something._

It all traced back to that trauma.

She was burdened with a heavy guilt.

"Namie-chan," he was careful to plan out his words before he voiced them, "you do know that...none of this was your fault?"

Those were the words she didn't want to hear. They incensed her. Sparked up an inconsolable irritation. Her left hand curled tightly into the blanket across her lap and her jaw tensed.

"What do you know," she grit out, eyes narrowed faintly. The edge in her tone was rising.

No one knew. They didn't know what she'd done.

"You weren't there. You can't just come and tell me something like that because you weren't _there._" Her tone was one he hadn't heard in quite a while—the one she spoke with when only someone who was fully aware of her mental state conversed with her. She would hold back nothing, and her words were scathing. Diverting the anger she felt at herself to whoever, whatever, was nearby and available. "Get out."

"Nam—"

"_Get out._"

"_Don't be such a child._" Inori returned her anger with a flare in his own temper, words even and blunt, devoid of the usual happy-go-lucky, upbeat persona, but steeled. It was such a shift in behavior, one she'd never experienced from the man, that it shocked her into confusion and her tight hold on the irritation she felt slipped away.

His eyebrows were drawn, his expression was a strict frown, but the look wasn't unkind. Only somewhat admonishing, like a parent's. Not even Taji had ever looked at her in such a way.

"You aren't one; not anymore. And I _know_ you know you're being unreasonable, thinking this way. If you keep blaming yourself like this, it will ruin you. Completely."

She floundered for a moment, floored by his words, before regaining control of herself. "Maybe I deserve it."

"How can you say that? You did all that you could. You weren't responsible—"

"_Stop_, just—stop it! I already told you, you don't know a goddamn thing, because you weren't there and you weren't the one who all but presented the enemy the kunai on a stupid golden platter, the kunai that killed Kasuga—"

The name hung in the air, stale, as she cut herself short, teeth clicking together as she shut her mouth and pressed her lips together tightly, trembling, on the verge of tears.

Inori kept his silence, feeling that, maybe, he'd pushed too far—always did. But that gave him everything he needed to know; confirmed what he already did.

_This_ was what haunted her—what caused her pain and suffering.

Namie truly did believe it was her fault.

Tears dripped down her cheeks, now, as silent sobs wracked her small body. "I did it," she croaked out feebly, throwing her uninjured hand over her face and shaking her head. "I killed Kasuga. He's dead because of _me._"

The feeling ran deep. Simply saying something calming and naïve like "no, of course it wasn't," would only make it worse. Even if it was the truth.

There was nothing that could be said. This was something she could only work through by herself, and once she did, only then, would she accept the help of others.

* * *

A month passed by since the day of the kidnapping and Team One remained on standby, incomplete. There was no telling when Namie would be back on her feet and in good form, and a replacement for Kasuga had not yet been found.

As it was, Kakashi and Hiroto were the only active and able members of the team, which was no longer much of a team at all.

The matter was, inevitably, brought to the Hokage's attention.

Sarutobi Hiroto, Taji, and Namikaze Minato, as well as Hatake Sakumo, stood, spaced almost equally apart, side-by-side before their leader, who sat completely comfortably and unperturbed in front of them. The tension in the room was very nearly tangible, and various emotions were present, though none were particularly hostile. In a sense, the meeting was...awkward. Though, matters that required a group of jounin in the same room did always tend to be that way. Especially when they were parents whose children had been involved in a great ordeal. It was something more akin to a parent-teacher conference than a meeting of critical importance.

Hiruzen shuffled through the report set out in front of him before clearing his throat and regarding the four shinobi. "Due to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the genin team under Hiroto's guidance, and the lack of an experienced replacement member to make the cell operable, I've considered two possible remedies for this dilemma, influenced by the suggestions you all have given to me.

"The first is that the team will remain as it is until the next genin exam passes and a suitable young shinobi is found, or under any other circumstances that lead to the availability of a candidate. Missions will proceed, and the active members will cooperate with other genin teams to accommodate." The man folded his hands together atop the desk and deliberated. "However, this option is a bit unfair, as quite some time could pass until then and team training will be stalled. This leads me to the second choice, which is more advantageous for all parties involved in the matter.

"That would be the option to transfer mentorship under an individual instructor. Hiroto has informed me that, with the progress Namikaze Namie and Hatake Kakashi have displayed, they could quite possibly outgrow his capabilities, and soon. Considering their respective talents, I also believe this approach would be for the best. Especially with the condition the kunoichi of the team is currently in. I've been informed that her release from the hospital has yet to be determined." Hiruzen paused to determine the group's reaction. And also to take a moment to recover from the lengthy explanations.

It seemed to dawn on Sakumo and Minato as to why their presence was requested.

Of course, they were all intelligent jounin. He didn't need to spell out everything. "In this case, I've decided that, if there are no objections, Kakashi would receive personal training from you, Sakumo." It was no secret that the man's decision to start training his son at an early age partially contributed to his swift graduation from the Academy. The boy would continue to grow under his supervision, and would continue to undertake missions with others, only without a team to call his own.

"And Namie, once fully recovered, would be overseen by you, Minato."

There was a flash of uncertainty in the young man's eyes. Unlike the others, he had only been a jounin for a short time. Far from prepared to take on the responsibility of a full-fledged team of genin, but at least capable of handling a single genin, especially his younger sister, whom he was familiar with. He was talented. Patient. A promising sensei for the future, who needed experience in the field. Just like in the case with the two Hatakes, it wasn't uncommon for families—though in particular prestigious clans—to take over the training of their young who wished to become shinobi. Assigned teams were only a convenient way to organize them—helpful, but not an absolute necessity.

Taji had been the one to suggest the transfer in mentorship as well as the match-up, and Hiroto, who would have argued under any other circumstance, didn't object. It was well-known by the Hokage that his son and the medic often butted heads, and the lack of fight concerned him. Though, the man was still grieving. Even if he maintained a professional facade, he was only human. He wasn't yet, and it couldn't be determined when he would be, prepared to continue training a full team, not after his first had faced such a tragedy. This assembly was as much for his sake as for his genins'.

The aged leader straightened his posture and smiled slightly, comfortingly. It was such a serious discussion that they would all do well to loosen up, if only a little. He wasn't _forcing_ a decision on them. "Well, those are the choices. I believe it would be in the team's best interest if the two genin are to decide for themselves which path to take. Each of you has experience both in a team and with independent training, so you are all well qualified to guide them, if they need it." Now, he addressed the dark-haired male. "Hiroto. Please present these two options to your students and, once an answer is given, report back to me. That is all."

* * *

Speaking to his team, aside from delivering the news to the youngest of Kasuga's passing, was something Hiroto had done his best to avoid for weeks. But now, by the Sandaime's order, he was no longer able to shirk that duty and it became a necessity to interact with them. Kakashi—he wasn't worried about him. No, telling Kakashi about his teammate's death had barely been a task at all. The boy was able to process it and move on. To attend the funeral and mourn his fallen comrade and keep him in memory—at least, outwardly. He was startlingly mature for his age. It was how he'd expected Namie to be from the start, but even with her mental maturity, she'd proved to be far too emotional and petulant at times.

He expected her to blame him. To furiously lash out and accuse him of being a horrible teacher who allowed one of his genin to go missing and another to end up dead without due cause. To get violent. He was fully prepared for that. Namie was the type who withheld her emotions but _needed_ to relay them, and when she did, it was explosive. She rambled—made full use of that crude language she was so fond of. She spoke honestly. She didn't bother holding anything back and bit into her target and didn't let go until she said her piece and let them know _exactly_ how she felt.

In a sense, in a vague feeling that he could scarcely grasp, because he'd long since shut such emotions out, he was...afraid...of her reaction.

And then, giving her the option to remain a part of his team or to receive individual training from her sibling, not unlike the training she was undergoing with her guardian, but more rounded and focused in all areas necessary for her ranking, would only infuriate her more. She would see it as him trying to run away, to escape blame.

Maybe it was the truth.

His decision to allow Kasuga and Kakashi to accompany him on the retrieval of their teammate, without appropriate back-up, was...stupid. Foolish. Overconfident. He'd thought that, maybe, they actually _were_ prepared for such a thing despite his doubts on it only moments before agreeing to let them along—because they were ready for the chuunin exam, he'd been sure, and they'd come so close to participating before that night—and that he was the one who was holding them back, because he couldn't help but view them as children even though they were skilled shinobi.

And who was the one that influenced him with only a few, simple words, to see them for their true age and not as responsible, capable killers?

It was Namie.

But she was right. Kakashi was only six, Kasuga had been eleven and Namie herself was only ten. No matter how intelligent or adept they were, they were just...kids. So young. And already two had killed enemies and one was—deceased.

That perspective shift had also, in part, pushed him to pursue Namie's kidnappers without properly alerting the Hokage of the situation beforehand.

Team One was his responsibility.

Whatever happened to them, no matter what it was, it would always be, partially, his fault.

Taji knew that, as well. And, naturally, she was on his heels, shadowing him, the whole way to the hospital. She wouldn't speak, but it wasn't necessary. He knew exactly how she felt and he wouldn't dare ask.

An enraged mother was something to leave be and not provoke, especially when her child had been endangered.

But, at the very least, she gave him the privacy to speak with his student alone—and waited outside, like a hawk ready to strike, should something go wrong.

Inori had said the girl wasn't well. And when he entered the hospital room and set eyes on the blonde for the first time since the incident, he would have come to the same conclusion even without his friend's input.

Namie had a weakened, diluted appearance. There was a worrying pallor to her skin. Her hair hung loosely, limply, and looked as if it could have used a good brush. The usually energetic vigor in her presence was...gone. Extinguished. Even her expression was noticeably lacking in energy. In enjoyment. She looked as if she hadn't smiled in weeks, and, ultimately, didn't even want to. She was just...exhausted. Burnt out.

This was what witnessing the death of a teammate firsthand did to a person.

Facing a teammate's death was more torturous than executing a first kill and seeing the death of a stranger firsthand. The entire team shared the experience, yet...she'd been the one to _see_ it happen. Felt it on a higher level than someone who had the news delivered to them after the fact, or seen it from a distance, as he had. And in this case, it hadn't been for the good of a mission. For the good of the village. No—it had been a murder in cold blood. A killer's choice. And he'd dealt with that killer and eliminated the option of revenge if either of Kasuga's teammates had thought to seek it, and he didn't doubt the idea would cross their minds, because they were comrades. They looked after each other even if they didn't get along all the time. So, he took it upon himself. As the team leader.

As the one responsible.

But, with her condition...after an entire month had passed...he feared that, quite possibly, this event could have pushed her over the edge of madness. She'd always been a troubling case, and he'd kept watch on her for the better part of three years with little activity indicating that she was a threat, but...the death of a teammate, someone she was close with, was a monumental event.

It changed a person, no matter who they were.

It changed _him._

Namie didn't speak, and, by the look on her face, the way she stared, cold, unfeeling, he knew she was waiting for him to say the first words. To give his reason for visiting after such a long time had gone by. To give his reason for visiting _at all. _

Finally, it began to dawn on him that Team One was...broken. It would never be the same.

Hiroto couldn't sit. Couldn't calm his racing thoughts and anxieties, so he paced the room. Glanced over at the few, small flower baskets that sat on the bedside table, the only colorful, bright things in the room—a stark, almost violent contrast to the washed-out girl herself. The curtains to the window had been drawn; there was only the impersonal glow of the overhanging lights keeping the room bright. But even then, those were dim.

When her instructor didn't speak, Namie turned an apathetic gaze to the bed coverings and kept it there, resolutely. She didn't want to be the first one to talk. Wasn't sure what she would say. It was tempting to blame the man—to scream and shout and question his foolish decisions. To cry and ask him why—why he didn't save her teammate. _His student_. Or to at least stop her before she only contributed to his demise.

But…no matter what she wanted to do, she was just too damn _tired._

She'd gone over it so many times in her head, when she was awake, when she was asleep. It haunted her. No matter how she considered it, there was nothing that could be done. Someone would have died that night, whether it be her, or Kasuga, or one of the children. Obito. Nothing could change that.

It was too much to ask for to go back in time and let it be her, instead—because she never should have been reborn into this world in the first place.

If she _had_ been the one to die, then the world could correct itself. Run its proper course. As it was, her presence only threw a fucking wrench into everything.

She didn't want _this._ Any of this. She'd never asked for it.

So, why was it _given to her?_

She couldn't find an answer no matter how hard she looked. Only felt the suspicion that, perhaps, she never had been reborn at all and this was a level of hell, because nothing turned out right and all there was was suffering and death, in her past, and in her future. Because if she couldn't protect Kasuga, protect a _child_, _protect her friend_, then there was no hope that she would be able to change her brother's, and Kushina's, fate.

She was cursed with the hands of death and, as _she'd been the one_ to kill Kasuga, she was certain that her presence would only serve to bring others misfortune as well. It was her retribution.

That was why it had just been too damn hard to see anyone besides Taji and Inori—why she'd refused even her own _brother _when he'd wanted to visit.

"You shouldn't be here." The words flew past her lips before she even realized she'd spoken them.

Hiroto quit his pacing—that irritating pacing—and came to a stop, staring vacantly at his student. As if he didn't understand her words. He looked as surprised as she was to hear her voice suddenly break through the silence, because she'd looked so damaged and weak and distressed—and he'd been working out just what to say before that. Now, whatever he'd been reciting in his head evaporated. Now, he watched her tentatively, waiting to hear her out. Ready to be blamed.

"You shouldn't be around me, Sensei. I'm cursed—that has to be it. Because I killed, this is my punishment. It's my fault Kasuga's dead and it won't end there." A stinging moisture flooded her eyes and, soon, dripped quietly down her face. She hadn't cried since her conversation with Inori some weeks ago and the tears, they wouldn't stop. She didn't even want to try. Her left hand shook as she gripped the colorless, bleach-scented hospital blanket in a vice grip.

No. This wasn't right. She blamed _herself?_

That was ridiculous. Unthinkable. It hadn't been her doing at all and there was nothing she could have done to change it. But the way she spoke, it was...painful. Hopeless. And she spoke with complete conviction.

This was the conclusion she'd come to after her teammate had died. This was her form of grief. Shouldering all of the blame herself and holding onto that guilt. He understood that.

But that didn't make it right.

She looked to be on the verge of giving up, giving up _everything_, and it hurt because she was far too young to be experiencing such a thing. He feared that, maybe, she _would_ give up.

Several shinobi discovered that they were unfit to walk the path. Days, weeks, years. It didn't matter how long. Sometimes the realization came quickly. Other times it was drawn out. But tragic, traumatic events were often what pushed others to give it up.

It wasn't weakness.

At one point in time he would have considered it as such, but after living through a war in his youth, he knew better. Because the life of a shinobi was steeped in death and it didn't get better—it only got _worse._ Kasuga's death—while a great loss—had been merciful. Instantaneous. Other ninja had been killed for less, and had been tortured, given a slow, excruciating demise, reduced to something less than human before their long-awaited release from the pain.

There was no way to get around it, or to get over it. There was only a way to handle it; to deal with it. To become a pro at accepting it and to move past it. To accept it as truth.

The most common way to handle it was to shut down emotions. To stop feeling. Store away the sorrow and drink your pain away some other time. Take a trip to the red-light district, or, if you're lucky enough, seek consolation from a partner. Immerse yourself in pleasures of the flesh. Seek mental guidance. Talk it over. Cry it out.

Yes, cry—Rule Twenty-Five be damned. That only applied to active situations.

He never did know how to treat the ones who cried. Before, he'd forced his student to reign in her emotions because they'd been in the midst of a mission. Now, there was no reason to stop her. He was at a loss.

Hiroto was careful to phrase his next words, careful to keep his tone even. "Do you want to quit?" The question hung tensely in the air.

His words echoed in the girl's head, provoked her. Pulled her from her self-pitying stupor.

It sounded as if he were giving her a _choice._ As if it hadn't very nearly _directly _beenhis doing that she ever ended up becoming a genin so soon at all. He couldn't just take it back. She couldn't just be allowed to walk away so easily. There was a reason she was undergoing shinobi training at such a young age instead of being left with her classmates to graduate together with them. She didn't forget that. Only stored it away in memory, to remember at a later time.

No, she would never forget what she'd been forced to endure during her earlier years.

But he wasn't fully to blame.

To become stronger, advancement was necessary. This was exactly where she wanted to be, at one point, and she had no regrets before this.

Now, it was all just so meaningless.

Even if she did want to quit, there was nowhere to go. There were no pipe dreams of living a peaceful, civilian life of domesticity filled with safe, _normal_ naïve worries of romance and lovers and acne breakouts and holding down a stable job for the future, well and away from harm while her loved ones followed their predetermined fates and ultimately faced demise in the worst way possible. She'd had her way in life set when she'd made the decision to overturn what was set in stone—in paper and ink—and erase that misfortune for something better. A brighter future.

Now...the outlook was cloudy. There was doubt, a sticky black mass in her soul, and she could feel her resolve fading. She wasn't someone others could rely on. She wasn't someone who could change what was and what _would_ be.

Without that, she was lost.

There was nothing else to do. There was nowhere else to go.

She would continue to move forward, because that was all she_ knew_ to do. Continue existing—not living, because without an endgame here there was no meaning to it, no _life—_and drifting along as an empty shell who'd lost its purpose. That was hardly a life at all.

"And if I say no?" She voiced her inner doubts, turning a narrow stare towards her teacher—and willingly ignoring the misplaced gauntness of his face. Her tears had finally ceased, yet her eyes remained damp. Red. Miserable. "What then? You'll let me be on my merry way and forget I ever existed? Strike me from the record?" A bitter laugh—though hardly a laugh and more of a quiet, humorless, scornful scoff—escaped her. "After all of those years spent studying me like some lab rat. I'm sorry, Sensei, but I can't believe it's just as easy as asking a question and getting an answer and letting me off the hook, just like that. Don't patronize me."

There it was. Hiroto listened to his student's sharp words, only vaguely jarred by the shift in mood because, even though he was well aware of how she could really be, he'd grown somewhat complacent in believing her to be just like any other confrontational young genin who enjoyed arguing with and teasing her teammates—it had seemed to be oh-so-very genuine.

Her current emotional state, however, was fragile. He knew that.

He held her stare for only a moment then hesitated. Dropped his gaze, examining the tiles beneath his feet. How would he correct the situation without making it worse? With this girl, it was best to be straight. Honest. To dive into the subject matter, rip it off like a bandaid. "That wasn't my intention, Namie." The usual honorific went unsaid in favor of the serious nature of the situation. "I phrased that wrong." He raised his head and met her harsh, conflicted eyes once again, and once it was clear he had her attention, he recited the Hokage's two choices.

Namie was still. Quiet. Ruminating over her options, weighing her chances.

She had the opportunity to leave Team One—to leave behind her connection to the name that would forever hang over her as a failure, as her fault, as her sin.

But the name itself would remain, no matter where she went, hanging back as a constant reminder that she was weak. Useless.

If she chose to become Minato's understudy, there was no telling what else she would screw up. What, then? Would his death come sooner? Would he and Kushina never marry, never have Naruto?

She couldn't risk it.

"I can't do that," Namie muttered, picking at the bandages covering her right arm.

Hiroto patiently waited for her to clarify.

"I can't answer that. Not right now. Not like I am now."

She was putting it off. Struggling. But, again, she was right to make the call. There was no telling when she would regain the usage of her leg, or when she would finally come to terms with the fact that Kasuga's death was not her burden. She was in mourning. He understood that. Everyone handled their feelings differently and this girl needed more time to sort through hers. She could afford the time.

What could he do, now, as her instructor?

He felt a familiar weight in his pocket, then, and remembered he'd brought a gift.

After glancing at the girl, noting that she was still avoiding his gaze, he reached into one of his pockets, extracting a familiar headband. It was folded neatly—neater than it had ever been—and the metal plate had even been polished. "You'll need this back, then, no matter what you decide." He set it carefully on her bedside table before turning and heading to the door. But, before he reached the hallway, he stopped. Didn't look back, but spoke. Carefully—almost soothingly.

"Kasuga wouldn't blame you."

Namie didn't touch her returned hitai-ate until her instructor left the room. Until she was sure his footsteps had vanished.

Because when she saw her reflection in the steel plate, she couldn't help but crumple in on herself and cry.

* * *

At the week's end, Namie was discharged from the hospital's care. Her stitches had been removed and her torso injury was healed, but her arm remained in a smaller, thinner and more maneuverable cast during its end stages of mending.

Her left leg remained unresponsive, however.

Inori had told her, was convinced, that it was, in part, due to the traumatic stress of facing a feared missing-nin and nearly having her leg crushed by him. He was sure that, once she worked through her feelings and was able to overcome the ordeal, full usage should return to the limb. Assured her of it, in fact. Until then, she was advised to remain at home and rest, and to seek him out for further counseling if needed.

It was stupid. To think that something as insignificant as a flicker of fear could cripple her so easily—there had to be more to it than that. She'd faced dangerous situations before and nothing like this had happened.

Probably—no, she _knew—_it was her reluctance to return to the field. That looming pressure of inevitable failure. Of failing someone else close to her.

Even if that _was_ the problem, she had no idea how to move past it. How to fix it.

_'Kasuga would probably know. He's..._was..._good at analyzing things.'_

Kasuga.

_Kasuga_ this, _Kasuga_ that.

If Namie had been aware how painful it would be to lose him, she never would have stopped perceiving him as one of those faceless, unfeeling, _alive_ background characters and made the choice to get closer to him. But she _had_. And she didn't regret it. Only regretted her inability to change his fate.

_'Change his fate...?'_

That wasn't quite right. No. That wasn't any of her business—not with him. Prior to becoming a part of Team One, she hadn't been aware of the boy whatsoever. Had no idea of who he was, what his future held. Who he would become. There was no foreknowledge.

There was no way of knowing when and how he would die before that night.

Like it should be, his life and death had been a mystery to her.

Hope sparked within her heart. She hadn't been able to save him because she hadn't _known._ It wasn't her fault he was dead. It was impossible to stop it.

For the others, there was still a chance. There was structure. There was knowledge. And there was still _time. _

_'He's still helping me understand things, even now.'_

Something could still be done.

Her reason for existing, for moving forward; her reason for being where she _was_—it was already there, right in front of her. It always_ had_ been.

Kasuga, if he knew of her situation, wouldn't want his death to hinder her progress. He would want it to keep pushing her forwards.

He would want her to keep her feet planted firmly on the ground, and to keep her goal within her sights until the very end.

_He wouldn't blame her. _

* * *

Kakashi's relationship with his blonde-haired teammate could be described as rocky, at best.

They were like gasoline and fire—two things that should never be put together unless it had been well planned-out beforehand. But on the other hand, they also grew from each other. Fed the flames and kept them burning.

He didn't like her as a person. She was the type he'd never want to be around if they weren't forced together as a part of the same team. She was obnoxious. Bullheaded. Reckless. Irritatingly clever. Never let him forget his actual age and poked fun at him, but at the very least never condescended to him and treated him like an idiot because of it.

Things were certainly never boring when she was around. And, despite his feelings on the matter, it was difficult to imagine a team without her. No—he definitely did not like her personality. But as far as teammates went, he wouldn't go so far as to say he _wasn't_ concerned about her well-being, because she'd acted to save his life at one point and he'd done the same.

At least she had a good head on her shoulders, when she made the effort.

However, Kasuga had acted as the buffer between them. The one to monitor the fire and ensure it didn't become wild. It was no wonder his chakra nature had been _water._

There was no telling how they would get along now that their third teammate was gone. Now, there was no one to fill that gap. Hiroto was the no-nonsense type, but he was hardly one to mediate the conflicts of children. If anything, he would only separate them into corners like badly-behaved Academy students and give them a brief, vaguely threatening lecture to stop the bullshit and get along already.

In favor of that, he'd rather endure Kasuga's level-headed, calmly-worded and somewhat parental speeches. He had a way with words, that one, and the skills to match. A gentle but adamant approach.

That boy had been far from annoying. In fact, he'd been easy to tolerate. Never one to instigate, never one to quip and snark and get one over on the others. He'd been satisfied with what he had and did his best to support the team with that alone.

His death had been a great loss.

Sometimes, he wondered if he should have stayed behind that day. If he should have waited for Kasuga to heal their teammate and then took off to locate the escaped children together as a team. If he should have just stopped and taken an extra moment, even just a second, to make double-sure the area was clear.

No one expected the boy to be gone, and so soon.

He'd been a pillar of stability for them and now...

There was nothing that could be done. Tragedies like this occurred frequently in the ninja world. All that could be done was to accept it and move on. To do better next time.

There was no point in dwelling on the past and its failures because it would only cause pain and distraction.

"_It's never an easy thing, losing a teammate,"_ his father had said. _"If you were there, if you weren't there. You're going to blame yourself. Wonder what you could have done differently—if, for instance, you'd done things _this _way and not_ that _way."_

His father was a wise man. Experienced; talented. Trusted. Kakashi listened to his words and believed in them, clung to them to overcome the confusing mess of feelings the death had brought on.

It was easy to pretend that he felt nothing. It was simple to fake detachment. But...death was not a thing that could be easily pinned down and dealt with in a cut and dry way. There was no black and white—there was a little bit of everything and then some of nothing.

"_It will take time to understand, Kakashi. But keep in mind that what's done is done and there's not a single thing that anyone can do about it. Not now."_ Sakumo's words were heavy; real. His father never lied to him or downplayed the severity of something crucial. It was sound advice. Useful advice. _"But there is always something you could do differently in the future."_

And it gave him hope.

One day, he would grow to be someone respectable, just like his father. Until then, he would live by the man's words and do his best to become someone he would be proud of. In order to do that, he must continue onward. Become stronger. So strong that none of his teammates would ever have to die again.

Hiroto had given him the option to transfer out of Team One when it became unclear as to whether or not Namie would return to active duty in the foreseeable future, and he immediately accepted the permission. It was nothing personal. He was only impatient to continue training and there was no telling when that would happen with the current situation. It could be days. Weeks. Another month or more, perhaps. Whatever the case was, the boy believed it was something of a responsibility to visit his remaining teammate and inform her of the situation, as their instructor had probably neglected to do so. He tended to give them space when it was needed. He wasn't even sure if the man had visited the girl since her return to Konoha.

Not that he was any better, he supposed. This was the first time in something over six-almost-seven weeks that he'd thought to visit her, as well.

He'd never been to her home before, or even passed it by, despite the fact that both of his teammates' houses and his own were all located along the same route—his was farther out than the other two and he typically followed a different path that broke off from the common street they walked from the training grounds. A path that contained buildings which were set closer together with roofs of varying heights. It served as s decent obstacle course for after-hours solo training.

Namie's family apartment was about ten minutes' walk away from the Ueno bathhouse, somewhat isolated from the surrounding neighborhood, and it overlooked one of the local canals that siphoned from the Naka river. It had a peaceful atmosphere. Even from the outside, it looked cozy.

She lived here with her brother and adoptive mother, he knew, though he'd never met the former and only saw the latter for the first time during the night of the kidnapping. It had been the same with Kasuga—but he had, at least, seen his parents from afar during the funeral.

It was a little sad that they'd never gotten to know each other better, but perhaps it was better this way.

Kakashi ascended the steps to the second-floor landing, and the moment he turned the corner, a familiar face greeted him.

Or, rather, that familiar face was in his way.

"You again, huh."

It was the spiky-haired Uchiha that he was sure had been his classmate in the Academy. His name still slipped his mind, but he didn't particularly care. The boy stood rigidly before Namie's apartment door, holding a container of sorts in his hands, looking nervous. He was so high-strung that he even jumped slightly upon being addressed.

Instantly, he whirled around to fix the silver-haired boy with a mean scowl as soon as he recognized him. "O-oi, what are you doing here, Kakashi?" An edge crept into his tone when he said—or rather grumbled—the name.

"I don't really like your tone," Kakashi replied bluntly, noting the disrespectful lack of honorifics. He crossed his arms and examined the kid, narrowing his eyes curiously at the goofy goggles that were nearly bigger than his own head. Yeah, he remembered this boy from the school. Irritating. Obnoxious. Something like his teammate, really, just not even half as smart. "And I could say the same to you."

The dark-haired boy scoffed, upper lip curling in disdain, as he briefly eyed the hitai-ate on his former classmate's forehead. "I _have_ a name, y'know. It's Obito! Uchiha Obito."

Even his voice was annoying.

"Ah, right, right. Thanks for the info. Now, are you getting out of the way anytime soon?"

"No way! I have just as much a reason to be here as you do. I'm gonna give Namie-senpai this get-well-soon present." He held out the tin container pointedly. "An' you? I don't see a gift or anything."

Namie-_senpai?_ Now that was new.

Kakashi swiped the object and shook it curiously. Something rattled inside. His lazy expression amplified his exasperation as he sent the boy a deadpan stare. "Don't people usually give flowers to the unwell? What's _this?_"

Obito quickly grabbed the container back and held it away from the other boy, looking completely offended. "Aren't you her _teammate?_ I heard from one of my babysitters that Namie-senpai has a real sweet tooth. Seems like somethin' you should already know." He took a moment to eye the silver-haired boy suspiciously. Disapprovingly. Then, after a moment, shrugged. "And flowers are kinda special. Like, reserved for _reeeally_ special girls. Senpai's super awesome but that's different."

Kakashi begged to differ the claim that she was _awesome_, but it was true that flowers didn't quite match the girl's image. In fact, the idea of _Namie _and something as soft and feminine as that was kind of...misplaced. She didn't even really fit in when they'd stayed to watch the cherry blossoms in Kakunodate. He was fully convinced that, if given the chance, she would probably do something questionably bizarre, like _eat_ the flowers, if someone had the idea to gift them to her.

"But, like I said, what did _you_ bring her?"

"I don't need to bring her anything. She'll get better." His words were definite.

Obito side-eyed his companion. "Uh-huh. I gotcha. You're the type who thinks your presence alone is a gift in itself, huh—"

A loud, startling thump erupted from the door beside them, catching them both off guard.

"Oh my god, _shut up _out there, both of you!" Namie's muffled voice shouted from inside the flat. "Door's open. Come in. And don't track anything behind you."

The two exchanged a brief glance before heeding her words and, _quietly_, entering the apartment.

Kakashi wasn't surprised in the least to discover that the object she'd thrown against the front door was none other than a small weaved basket filled with—now disheveled, mutilated—daisies.

Namie waved a hand at them from her seat on the couch in the living room. "Do me a favor and throw those out. I'm allergic." She muttered something under her breath, then abruptly sneezed. Her nose was red and her eyes were watery, supporting her claim. "Just having them in the house is a pain. But...allergic to _daisies? _Of all things? It's like a sick joke..." Another sneeze.

Again, the two boys glanced towards each other, and Obito's expression was a smug _I told ya so. _He'd been right in forgoing the flowers.

Obito made no move to pick up the scattered mess of white petals and leaves, prompting Kakashi to handle the request. Any other time he would have absolutely refused, but since the girl was still healing, he did so without complaint. Only a passive roll of the eyes.

Namie stared at the two boys once they'd meandered over, if only for the reason that they both seemed rigid and somewhat awkward, standing almost side-by-side across from her, on the other side of the low coffee table. Obito fidgeted with a small container held between his hands, eyes downcast, and Kakashi stood with his arms crossed, eyes wandering the room. If she didn't know any better, she'd think she was invisible.

The fun, raucous atmosphere from outside—that she could very clearly hear happening on the landing even from her spot in the sitting room—had evaporated and all that was left behind was something tense and gloomy.

"So, what brings you two here?" She shifted, manually moving her bothersome leg off of the couch cushions and rearranging her blankets closer to herself so that there was room for the two boys to sit, if they so chose. There were plenty of seats and she just couldn't understand why they were still on their feet. "And sit down. You're making me nervous."

That statement went double for them.

Their silence was, in part, due to the girl's bland, tired appearance. She didn't look well at all, allergies aside.

Briefly—only briefly—Kakashi felt a slight pang of regret from deciding not to bring a gift. The girl certainly looked as if she could use something to brighten her day. In lieu of his own shortsightedness, he nudged Obito's back, urging him to move first.

"A-ah, yeah, right, uh...I brought you some konpeito, Nam—Namie-senpai!" The Uchiha held out the candy tin, all but shoving it towards the blonde in his nervousness.

"Oh. Thanks. It's my favorite." She accepted it with vague surprise. One of her eyebrows quirked at the unusual title tacked onto her name, but she made no move to question it—at least, not at first. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at her lips. "_Senpai_, huh? Obito-kun here's got the respect thing down perfectly. You should consider taking up some of his habits, Kakashi." She aimed a pointed glance at the boy, and there were traces of that same old challenging spark in her eyes.

"Dream on, flea girl." When the silver-haired boy fixed his teammate with a deadpan stare, her smile only grew.

And, just like that, the tense atmosphere shattered.

Namie fixed the two younger boys with a light, cheery grin. "I haven't had visitors in a while, you know. And I was getting pretty bored. I'm glad you two dropped by." She hummed. "Sorry I can't really go and get snacks for you or anything. No one else is here right now and I can't...well...I can't exactly get up and walk to the kitchen myself." Taji was away shopping for dinner with Kushina, and Minato was on a mission. When she was alone, there wasn't much to do since her movement was limited.

"I'll—I can do it!" Obito raised his hand up high and headed immediately towards the dining room that annexed the kitchen.

"Oh, really? Thanks—there's some juice or something Taji left in the fridge. There should be cups on the counter." One of her eyebrows rose in amusement and minor confusion. He was acting so gung-ho that she couldn't help but feel he was overcompensating for his lack of control during the kidnapping situation that had quite nearly gone south. There was definitely something he wanted to say, and she suspected it had a lot to do with that very subject.

Kakashi, on the other hand, didn't seem the type to pay casual visits. Especially to her own home. In fact, she never expected to see him at all.

Namie watched her silver-haired teammate as he glanced towards the sofa and then towards the chair to her immediate right before, somewhat hesitantly, accepting the offer to sit.

"You've got to have something important to say. Otherwise you wouldn't be here." Her words were straight and to the point, but not unkind. Not even challenging or derisive, as they tended to be when they interacted.

He returned her gaze, studying her quietly. There was the sound of something being knocked over in the room behind them, accompanied by a brief outcry and apology, which they both ignored. "I didn't think your legs got injured." It was an unexpected comment—and certainly not what he'd intended to say.

"They didn't. It's just one, and it's not really injured. It's... it's just a product of stress; nothing you need to worry about." Namie waved a hand, brushing the topic aside. The flippant action was almost irritating. "Actually," she spoke again, brow furrowing as she watched the boy, "I'm more worried about, uh, _you_. Kasu—" her tone caught and she quickly reformed her words. "He was your teammate, too."

The way she avoided saying his name as if it were a taboo didn't go unnoticed by Kakashi. And the fact that she was admitting she was more concerned about him than she was about herself was just too strange to process. The beginnings of a bitter mood pulled at him.

It would be best to get his business over and done with as soon as possible, before an argument sparked.

"I'm fine. There's no need to worry about that," Kakashi started, shrugging and glancing off to the side. "I do have something to say, actually, and it's pretty important since it concerns the team." There wasn't an easy way to say it besides telling it exactly how it was. "Hiroto-sensei gave me the option to transfer to another jounin since...well...everything happened, and I took it. I'm going to start training under my dad for a while."

News like this was easier to deal with if it was spoken outright, without delay.

Namie's jaw hung open slightly as she decided how to respond. Hiroto had also mentioned this to her, so it was only natural Kakashi was given a similar choice. She was well aware that he would most likely split from their team sooner or later, but she hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Even so, it was how things were supposed to be. But...as for Team One..._her_ team..._Kasuga's_ team...

It was no more.

Her silence was unsettling. Kakashi wasn't sure if she would cry or get upset or what. But he'd prefer something, anything, instead of nothing.

Finally, her expression stirred. She smiled.

There was a slight sting of regret in her heart, because she knew her current state was only holding him back. But he didn't blame her for it, that much was revealed in his words and the way he spoke them. Probably, he was more worried that she would blame him for leaving her behind, all alone.

But she wasn't alone.

"I'm happy for you, Kakashi." She spoke sincerely, and her expression proved her words were true. There was something everyone had to do, and she wasn't going to hold him back from that. Rather, she _needed_ him to continue on. A cheeky grin rose to her lips. "Just don't go and become a chuunin before me."

There was that same, facetious lilt that made it seem as if everything was alright, as if everything was how it had been and that their team wasn't split apart. He wasn't sure why, but her response prickled at him. Maybe it was because he'd been expecting something else. Because she was his teammate, she should have understood.

Things were different, now.

But she was acting the same as ever.

Kakashi rose abruptly to his feet just as Obito returned to the sitting room, haphazardly carrying a tray of drinks, all with varying amounts of juice poured in.

"That's all I had to say. Get better soon." The boy's words were biting; almost sarcastic. So much so that the blonde openly flinched and could only watch as her former teammate passed her by and saw himself to the door, which all but slammed shut.

Maybe she'd said the wrong thing. Made the mistake of assuming he would understand, because she knew this was the way things had to be. That they would meet again.

He didn't.

The girl inhaled deeply and shook her head before turning to Obito, who set the drinks down on the coffee table beside the candy tin and took the spot Kakashi had vacated. His hands were mildly shiny in the light—sticky—and it was very apparent that if she were to look into the kitchen that most of the juice would probably be spilt somewhere.

He blinked back at her, shrugging. "That guy's always like that. Don't worry about it, Namie-senpai."

"Yeah...I guess he is." She picked up one of the cups—damp, tacky—and stared down into its orange contents pensively. "Hey, what's with the 'senpai' thing, anyway?" It was a word that was misplaced when directed at her, if only because he would address someone else in such a way far into the future. Her eyes met his and he suddenly looked a little embarrassed, fidgeting with his goggles.

"It's 'cause you're already an awesome ninja, you know? If you weren't there to help me and the other kids that night, we probably...wouldn't've made it back." He glanced her way quickly, then away. Then, sighed loudly and buried his hands in his face in frustration. "I was such a loser! I couldn't do _anything_, Namie-senpai, I just froze up."

"It was scary." Namie shook her head. "You're just a kid. Don't worry about it." He was only six or seven. An Academy student. It was ridiculous to think he should have held _any_ form of responsibility during the kidnapping.

Obito set his elbows on his knees and narrowed his eyes. "But...look at Kakashi. He's just like you and he's the same age as me. He was there, too. He helped! I'm just an idiot."

The blonde tilted her head as she observed the young Uchiha. If he hadn't been there, she probably wouldn't have made it out of that situation either. Wouldn't have had a reason to. But she wasn't nearly as amazing as he thought she was, because she hadn't done that much to help. In fact, if the others hadn't arrived when they did, everything would have blown up in her face.

But none of that was the boy's fault.

"Bullshit," she caught her tongue between her teeth at the slip, but it was too late to take it back. An unpleasant frown took over her face. "Don't blame yourself for any of that. It wasn't your job to do anything but to shut up and let me save the day, Obito-kun. And just look how _that _turned out." She knocked the bottom of the cup against her leg, frown gradually growing into a scowl, not because the liquid sloshed from the sudden action but because she couldn't _feel_ it. "Sometimes things don't happen the way we want them to, but that's...it's okay." Her voice softened. "Well, it's not really okay. But it will be. Sooner or later. I mean, you're still alive."

The boy watched her with a wide-eyed stare.

"What?"

A large grin spread across his face. "Cool. You're so cool, Namie-senpai!"

The girl was glad she hadn't taken a sip of the juice yet, because if she'd been drinking when he said that she would have choked. "Cool? Me? No way, no way. I'm just—I was just speaking _honestly_. It's just...how it is!"

Obito hopped to his feet, still grinning, and shook his head. "Can't change my mind about it." He thumbed his nose, then adjusted his goggles once more to keep them from slipping over his eyes. "Anyway, y'see, I just wanted to come and say thanks for all of what you did. I'll definitely remember it. I'll give you a medal or somethin' when I become the Hokage."

After speaking, he made his way to the door—but stopped, and lingered. Looked as if he had more to say. Namie waited patiently, and a moment later, he glanced over his shoulder with a small pout. "Namie-senpai...do you think...maybe...we can hang out again sometime? After you get better?"

"Sure. Why not?"

His grin returned as he turned and hurried out the door.

Namie watched him go, and stopped to wonder if, maybe, forging a bond with the boy would change things.

* * *

The memorial stone of Konoha had always seemed an impersonal place, before. Etched in with numerous names, some forgotten, yet standing tall as a reminder of those that had fallen.

Namie wasn't sure what had drawn her to it that day, what had pushed her to pick up her crutches and hobble halfway across the village just to stand silently in front of the monument, because she didn't normally expect to see any other familiar names besides Sei's. But…she knew _his_ would be there.

_Ueno Kasuga_

It was carved in fresh, in full kanji—characters she wouldn't have been able to distinguish if not for the fact that her late teammate had displayed the formal name before—and her eyes lingered on the name.

She didn't have to be here. He did have his own grave, buried far away in one of the shinobi cemeteries, she'd been told, but…it was still too difficult to face him, even if it was just a concrete slab. Maybe she felt she wouldn't be welcome there. It wasn't something she could completely comprehend, but she knew at least that it was too soon for such a visit. This would have to suffice.

"I'm sorry, Kasuga." Her apology was quiet. Succinct. Yet, those two simple words were filled with a steadfast determination; a promise that she wouldn't let the same thing happen twice—that she would do better to avoid it next time. They were the words she wished she could have told him in his final moments.

They were the words _she_ needed to hear, if only to reaffirm the belief that moving onward was the right thing to do. The necessary path.

Those words were also her final farewell. Not quite asking permission to move past his death and grow from it, but asserting that she would never forget the tragedy even if it was an event that would someday recede from the forefront of her mind and remain only as a memory. She was seeking forgiveness for that alone.

He would grant it.

* * *

**A/N: **There's a _Laterality_-related, wintry one-shot drabble thing posted up on my dreamwidth journal for those of you who are interested. Link is on my profile. Also, the "potential pairing" poll has been closed. Thanks to everyone who participated!

Thanks so much for all reads/faves/follows. And big thank you to these reviewers: **toolazytologin, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Counting Sinful Stars, Abundant E, MiniRoonie, milpld, XenotheWise135, Nara816, XxHeavenlyBlueSkyxX, GreenOnBlack, PersonJe, Silver Hydrangea, Redleafs16, coronadomontes, Izumikii, Naruto4Evar, Scarlett Winds, AmandaSingh0, kimchi759, **and** Guest (ch. 26).**


	28. Interlude - Progression

**Interlude—Progression**

* * *

The improvement was gradual, but ever since Namie's visit to pay respects to Kasuga—the release of that final grip of guilt and self-blame; the overdue apology—the misplaced paralysis of her left leg began to fade and allowed her to focus on the recovery of her broken body.

"Well, Namie, I do believe you're ready to start walking without any aid," Taji revealed with a smile after completing the girl's regular checkup in the living room of their home. Thanks to the medic's foresight of keeping the girl's leg exercised to prevent atrophy and a prolonged adjustment period, the need for crutches was no more.

"_Finally!_" the blonde breathed out, unable to hide her own grinning response to the news. The feeling had long since returned to her leg—she immediately jumped to her feet and leaned her full weight onto her left leg, _feeling it;_ feeling the cool, smooth, worn surface of the floorboards, to affirm that it wouldn't fail her or tremble or otherwise betray her expectations—but now it felt _right._ Her arm had since recovered as well, and with everything back to the state it was meant to be in, she felt light. Refreshed.

Like a new person.

For the first time in a while, she felt…capable; enough to be able to move forward, after that three-month-long standstill of inactivity and grief, into whatever else awaited her.

She wanted to return to active duty as soon as possible—but not under Minato's instruction, however, no. She was reluctant to take that path. It wasn't that she wished to remain a part of the broken Team One, either. Both of the options that had been presented to her had their respective pros and cons, and…to her, it seemed there were more cons than anything.

But there always were. Adversity was an obstacle that would never ease up and would forever remain, so long as she had something to fight towards. At the very least, she was finally healthy enough to continue doing just that.

The brunette watched the delighted child with an amused glimmer in her eyes, fully able to share in her happiness. For someone who was always going going going, whether with training or missions or the like, the past few weeks that had put the brakes on everything made the girl quite restless. It was clear in the final stages of her recovery that she was itching to make her way back into the world, to see what she'd missed, and now that opportunity was well within her reach. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long. Way too long." Naturally, the first thing the blonde did was make her way to the front door and pull on her shoes, eager to go outside with both feet on the ground and no need to be more dependent on one than the other. But, before she flung the door open and rushed into the bustle of the village, Namie took a moment to fix her guardian with an earnest, grateful smile, and spoke from her heart. "I don't think it would have gotten better this soon without your help. Thanks…Mom."

The words were a bit awkward on her tongue, yet at the same time felt exactly right. She'd made the decision to address the woman in such a way during her recovery period, when she'd had more than enough time to reflect on her surroundings and relationships with others. It was the second time she'd called Taji that, but it still took some getting used to.

Taji, however, was more than pleased just hearing it. Her surprise wasn't as apparent as the time she'd first heard the word—when she nearly burst into tears of joy and slight regret and a bit of humility because she wasn't the girl's _real_ mother and never dreamed she'd measure up to it, much less be called that—but her eyes did get a little misty. "There's no need to thank _me._ I'll always do my best to help you when you need it. I care about you; you know that."

"Yeah, yeah. _I love you, too_." The girl's cheek had returned, along with her physical health. But she didn't stick around to see the woman's reaction to the weighty, familial words she herself was still a bit too uncertain to speak and instead hurried out the home and to the street instead, barely catching the half-flustered call of "just don't push yourself!"

There was a new sense of freedom about the slightly-humid atmosphere that greeted her. Possibly because it was her first foray into the village as a whole person for the first time in a while, or because she was still on standby, having fallen somewhere between the cracks as an active shinobi and one placed on indefinite leave. There were no obligations hanging over her head except for the ones she'd come into this world bearing—or rather the ones she'd assigned to herself upon entry—and even those were put on pause for the time being. But there was no need to interact with a team, or to take part in trivial missions or to interact with anyone in particular—not at the moment. It was a time she cherished, because it was fleeting. Because it belonged to her, and her alone. Soon, it would be gone and she would once again return to that grueling path of seeking to change the world.

Namie knew she would have to return her focus to it eventually. To decide what she would do upon entering active genin duty once more. But…taking a small break from that wasn't much to ask for. Even if it was only for an afternoon.

The very first place she visited was Kasuga's grave—his real grave, in the cemetery plot his parents owned in the public, civilian burial site—because she knew she owed him that much.

It was more personal and widespread than the all-purpose, closely-packed shinobi graveyard, but on a smaller scale than the private, clan-owned locations. Much more emotional a place than the Memorial Stone—she almost wasn't prepared for it. Not even Harumi's gravesite evoked such a strong feeling of melancholy.

But it was a place that was well taken care of. It was a place where offerings, flowers and incense were brought on a regular basis. It was a place where his spirit was in good company, never to be alone and forgotten.

It was a place she would come to visit as frequently as Sei and Harumi's, in time.

She wasn't the only one from Team One who visited the former teammate, either.

"Hiroto-sensei?"

The summer sun glared brightly in her eyes and she had to squint to be sure her vision wasn't deceiving her as the familiar male figure approached, but sure enough, as he neared, it turned out to be the very man, sans the usual jounin gear. There had never before been a time where she'd seen him don anything but his ANBU uniform or jounin vest and ninja attire—it was no wonder she didn't recognize him immediately. Seeing him in casual wear—even if it was along the dark tones and not much variation from what he usually wore—was like the surreal experience of seeing one of her old grade school teachers out of the learning environment and out in the real world for the first time. A little confusing. Somewhat amusing. And slightly bizarre. Not to mention his hair wasn't swept back and instead hung loosely, making him look younger and less stern than what she was accustomed to.

The man stopped in his tracks—and though his expression didn't reveal anything particularly perturbed, he managed to appear at a loss. It should have been inevitable, but…he hadn't expected to see her here so soon. Certainly, he'd been keeping tabs on her recovery status when he could, but neither had seen nor spoken to each other since the hospital visit some time ago. Things were still up in the air between them, concerning the team.

"Namie-chan," he returned at length, a bit reluctant as he wondered just how the tone would be set for this run-in.

"Long time no see, Sensei." The girl fixed him with an even stare and nodded slightly as she spoke plainly, perhaps a bit hesitant herself.

There was no need to worry—she was more merciful than he gave her credit for. Or she'd gotten better at hiding her irritation and disdain (however mocking), which was always somehow present when she spoke to him. Even though they weren't related, she_ did_ take after Taji in that respect…

(Though, at times, he did goad her into it, so perhaps it was partially his fault.)

He glanced at his late student's headstone, studying it wordlessly, before returning his gaze to the blonde. "It's…good to see you're back on your feet. You look well."

"Never been better, honestly. Not in a while, at least." Namie also glanced to Kasuga's grave, and let her eyes linger there. She was aware he was the first student the man had lost. Probably, he'd visited the site quite often. More often than she thought to, at least, regardless of her reasons for staying away so long. She wasn't the only one who'd lost a teammate, after all. But seeing her teacher here, confirming that he cared as much as she did, served to illuminate Hiroto's intentions and past behavior. Even if he was Spartan and damn near a slave-driver with his methods, even if he was pretty much emotionally constipated and hard to relate to and understand, and even if he'd done things in the past she didn't approve of nor appreciate because they interfered with her own life, he was still human and he always tried to make the right choice even if it ended up bungled. No matter what, he always had their best interests in mind.

Maybe, to that end, he was a better person than she was.

But, aside from that, and because of the man's good qualities, she felt that he was a mentor whose supervision she could continue to grow under. He was an unbiased source of growth—unlike the others she'd considered.

With Minato, well…she could strive, but he would always be better. More talented, and genuinely so, rather than having advantage by age and past-life experience. If he became her sensei, there would be a tiny part of her brain that would hold her back and never allow her to unlock her full potential, because it was the natural order that he remained stronger, and what if somehow she surpassed him…? What would she do then? She _did_ want to be strong enough to protect him and his future family, but…_stronger_ than the man who would become Fourth Hokage? It was a nice dream, but terrifying at the same time.

Kushina was also skilled, but not quite suited to be a genin's teacher, as she was still only a chuunin herself.

Taji was more suited to medical practice and while she'd provided much help with the chakra shield technique, she wasn't the hands-on type of instructor for someone like Namie.

Hiroto was the ideal teacher. He was someone who provided challenge, who pushed his students—even if he was rough at times—but someone she was capable of surpassing without regret. Someone who encouraged her to do just that, if she could. That didn't mean she couldn't continue to learn from the others, but she needed to focus on her own personal growth as well. She needed to become her own person, with her own strengths, uninfluenced by those she was already unfairly familiar with.

That was how it had felt, being a part of Team One. With Kasuga, and Kakashi, and Hiroto.

It wasn't something she wanted to lose sight of.

The two didn't speak much after that, aside from vague mumblings of memories concerning Kasuga, how he was and how he grew, how he was missed, and mostly just simply stood in silence near the grave before some time had passed and their visit came to an end.

"Hiroto-sensei," Namie called quietly, just as they left the cemetery and prepared to part ways at the paths that crossed in front of it. The man cast a nonchalant glance over his shoulder to show that he'd heard, but made no move to speak, so she did. "It's overdue, but I have that answer."

She took a moment to clear her throat as he turned to face her, giving her his full attention, curious.

"I'm going to remain part of your team."

Hiroto smiled—more of a crooked smirk, but a smile nonetheless. Her words were as full of certainty and confidence as ever, with no room for argument—something that had been missed during the past few months. She had definitely recovered, in more ways than one, and that was uplifting in itself.

"…Welcome back, Namie."

* * *

**A/N:** Happy New Year! Here's a not-quite chapter twenty-five because I'm getting everything straightened out and lined up at the moment since I faced a few minor upsets lately and I'm just settling back down, trying to get back into an update routine. **On that note, there's another poll up on my profile for you readers to check out.** There's also another optional-to-read one-shot up on my dreamwidth to sort of make up for this short length.

Didn't get a chance to reply to reviews or anything yet but will definitely do so sometime before the next chapter is posted. Just know that I've seen them and greatly appreciate them.

Thanks for reading/faving/following!


	29. Twenty-five

**Chapter Twenty-five: Where We've Been, Where We're Going**

* * *

"Hey, Strawhead! You up for a spar?"

Only three days passed. _Only three._ Yet, somehow, Namie wasn't surprised to see the russet-haired Inuzuka standing at her doorstep demanding a fight that afternoon.

In truth, it came as a relief more than an annoyance. Hiroto hadn't gotten back to her about her return to his team since she'd expressed the desire to remain under his instruction—she didn't know whether it was because he couldn't find replacement teammates or if it was something else—but already she'd been feeling the antsy nag to push forward and continue on; to do _something_.

Toboe's challenge provided just that. Even if she was probably grossly out of shape after such a long hiatus and definitely nowhere near her former level of strength, she was still confident she could beat him up when he had the nerve to ask for a fight.

Namie briefly cast a glance over her shoulder, back into the still house, as she considered her answer. Minato was out with Kushina and Taji was away shopping—though, if either were present they would definitely protest the idea. Just because Namie was walking on her own again, it didn't mean she was ready for a sparring match after a short seventy-something hours. She hadn't even been declared to be in a proper state to return to duty just yet. Hiroto would be in charge of deciding when that would be, and she fully planned on asking the next time they came into contact. _He_ probably wouldn't have approved, either.

Toboe spoke up again when the girl remained silent for a moment too long. "I mean—it's been way too long. And I heard you were walking around just fine lately. You _can_ still fight, right?" He fixed her with a condescending smirk that was meant to rile her into answering.

The blonde's head snapped back towards him and she mirrored his expression. "Of _course_ I can, Inuzuka. I'll wipe the floor with you."

He was prepared to hear her typical refusal, if his sudden, borderline offended scowl was anything to go by, but when he properly processed her words and interpreted them as agreement, his eyes lit up. "Prove it then, Strawhead! Come on—don't worry about weapons, we'll just use taijutsu. Just like old times." In his excitement, he'd jogged halfway down the landing before he realized she wasn't following. He stopped at the top of the stairs and glanced back, holding his arms out in an exaggerated shrug. "Come _onnn!_"

Namie let her hand linger on the door handle as she watched the boy impatiently wave her forward, before stepping forward and pulling the door closed behind her. "Just shut up and go! I'm right behind you."

What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

* * *

Toboe led the way to one of the smaller training grounds that Namie had used quite a few times while training with Kushina in the past—one that was open for first-come-first-serve usage instead of the usual process of reservation by teams.

"It's just us?" The blonde gazed around the forest clearing with a small frown. She'd expected to see more of their friend group, especially Suzume, or even Kurocha, but it was deserted, save for them.

"Yeah. Everyone else is busy and Kurocha is lazy today, so I got bored. Figured you'd be the only one in, and you were."

The thought to question just why _he_ wasn't busy, too, crossed her mind, but she ignored it in favor of stretching out her arms and preparing for their spar. "Well, whatever. Taijutsu only, right? What else? First one to land a solid hit wins?" She smiled slightly. A certain delight rose up within her at the thought of fighting again for the first time in weeks. She'd almost forgotten just how much she enjoyed it.

"I was thinking of a timed match. My team's been doing those lately. I've heard most fights shouldn't last too long and should be finished as soon as possible, so—"

"There's no one here to time us, Inuzuka."

"Then—_fine_. We'll go with what you said, Strawhead."

Namie's smile turned into a full-blown grin. "Or, we could go for knockout."

Toboe grinned in response and opened his mouth to agree before catching himself at the last second. Uncertainty flickered across his face as he studied the blonde's grin. "…Are you _sure?_"

The girl's brow furrowed. "Whaddya mean? Of course I am. Don't tell me you were planning on holding back or something. Like you said, it's been a while. Let's go all out."

He continued to watch her curiously, biting his lip in thought. She was out for three months—he knew that. Gossip amongst the circle of friends, and all. Not only that, but he didn't intend for this to be a completely serious sparring match—only some light fighting. Maybe to show off a little, since his jounin teacher had been helping him improve lately.

If they fought without holding back now, when Namie wasn't completely back up to speed after her recovery, and if he _won,_ it would just be an empty victory.

But she looked so confident with her words that he couldn't help but wonder if her skills had even suffered.

He sighed. "Fine—yeah, alright. If you say so."

Namie eyed the boy strangely for a moment, but then shrugged it off. "Great. Ready when you are, dog breath." She cracked her knuckles and shifted into a proper stance.

"Then let's go, Strawhead!"

Toboe was the first to strike—dashed forward and threw a feinted punch, which she immediately moved to block, but at the last second he transitioned into a kick aimed for her open left side.

Muscle memory was something that didn't suffer—but her reaction speed did. Namie guarded against his heel with her forearm at the last second, only slightly flinching from the sting of the impact since her arms weren't wrapped in bandages as they usually were, and then violently shoved his foot away to throw off his balance, feeling a bit of strain. She followed up with a strike aimed towards his stomach while he struggled to gather his bearings, but it was a shallow hit—he managed to recover and evade the brunt of it at the last second.

The two moved apart, watching each other carefully.

"Not bad. I think you're a little better, Inuzuka. Maybe, like, at an eight-year-old's level?"

Toboe clicked his tongue. "I was expectin' better from you, really. You're slipping, Strawhead—"

Namie moved in low, just as he finished speaking, and swiped her fist upwards, landing an uppercut on his chin. "Don't bite your tongue," she mocked as he stumbled back a few paces and grasped at his jaw, checking the damage—which was only minimal. No loose teeth, no bloodshed. Only a future bruise.

Toboe's only response was to petulantly stick out his tongue with a glare before rushing in for retaliation. She really was worth fighting, even if she'd been inactive for a short while. He couldn't hold back, not knowing _that_. So he decided to give it his all during this match no matter what.

The blonde hesitated briefly when she blocked the boy's next attack—a direct kick to the chest, which pushed against her arms with such force that her feet slid back against the grass-strewn ground a little as she fought to keep herself grounded. It was necessary to apply a small surge of chakra to the soles of her sandals to keep from being pushed back too far. When his foot retreated, she cut off the chakra feed to her own, but perhaps a moment too soon. Toboe's next hit came hard and fast—so fast that she almost didn't see it, but it caught her off-guard regardless—and his opposite leg swept her feet out from under her, sending her crashing to the hard dirt.

It winded her. For a moment, all she could do was stare up at the clear blue sky, watching a stray bird soar past, before feeling the pain catch up to her all at once. Namie hissed as she struggled to push herself into a sitting position, but went immediately on her guard as soon as she realized Toboe was standing nearby. A hand outstretched, and she knocked it away on reflex, scowling.

"Hey, hey, Strawhead, _hold on._ Are you okay?" The russet-haired boy quickly held both hands up in truce as he crouched next to her, expression pinched in a mixture of concern and "oh shit" because he was pretty sure he saw her head smack the ground when she fell. He knew he would regret asking her to spar if she ended up hurting herself again after finally getting better—because _he_ would be the one who received the backlash.

Suzume did tell him to go easy on the sparring requests for a while… As did his sensei.

Namie stared levelly at Toboe once she was sitting up, still on edge, wondering if this was a ploy to get her to drop her guard so he could land a sucker punch and finish the match. His hazel eyes were wide with worry and his mouth was hanging open slightly, as if he were about to say something else but didn't quite know what. His posture wasn't challenging—it was submissive. Tense. Uncertain.

Their spar was on hold.

The girl sighed and took the moment to relax and rub at the sore spot on the back of her head. "I'm…fine." She was more concerned about him—since when did he stop to ask her that instead of rushing in to kick her while she was down? It just screamed _fake_ to her, but she would put that aside for now.

Toboe exhaled deeply, dropping his arms onto his knees and ducking his head. "Come on, Strawhead. Really…? You totally should've dodged that. Why didn't you just tell me you weren't back up to one-hundred percent yet?"

"I said I'm _fine_," Namie replied, frowning and halfheartedly kicking out at one of his legs, upsetting his balance and knocking him over onto his side. "Who says I need to be at one-hundred percent just to kick your ass?"

He wasn't convinced. He pushed himself back up into a sitting position and scowled at her before looking away. "Fighting you is no fun, like this. You're barely a challenge." Since they were no longer fighting, he took the time to tend to his jaw again, double-checking the damage.

Those words were familiar—like déjà vu. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd said the same thing to him before.

"_You're_ seriously annoying." She sank her fingers into a handful of dirt and prepared to lob it in his direction before an unfamiliar voice rang out and distracted her.

"Heyyyy, are you two done yet? If you're just sitting there, go somewhere else. Other people need to use these grounds."

Namie and Toboe exchanged a brief glance before rising to their feet and facing the newcomer—or newcomer_s_, as it appeared. The faces were faintly familiar. She was sure it was a trio of genin that had been in the same graduating class as her former team. They didn't look too bright, either, even though they were older—they just looked like a bunch of generically dark-haired, cocky brats.

Brats who obviously didn't know when they were intruding on a fight.

"Sorry?" Namie started, crossing her arms and raising a brow at the boy that all but ordered them to leave. "It's first come first serve, and clearly it's still being used. You're the ones who should go." Upon closer inspection, she was almost completely sure she and Team One had sparred with this team of genin once before—and won by a wide margin. They were bitter brats and sore losers.

Another boy—an Uchiha, if the crest on his clothes was anything to go by—scoffed. "You're not even here with a team. We're here to do some serious training, ya know?"

"Who says _our _training isn't serious?" Toboe griped, hands curling into fists.

"Come on, _kids_, you're just here playing ninja, right? You probably aren't even genin yet."

The two glanced at each other again, noticing that, since it was just a casual spar, they'd neglected to bring their supplies and even forgotten to wear their forehead protectors. Since they were younger and shorter, naturally the others assumed they were still Academy students.

"We're genin." Namie spoke up first. "And why are you in such a rush? Go find another training ground."

The first boy replied. "The others are all taken this time of day. The chuunin exams are coming up—didn't you know? You really must be kids if you didn't. But _some_ of us really need to train up before then."

Right. The next round of exams was nearing—but it was still far enough away that this shouldn't have been a pressing issue. No matter how she looked at it, Namie couldn't see their behavior as anything but bullying.

Toboe stepped forward and sized the other genin up. "Then just wait your turn. Don't you know it's rude to interrupt a fight?"

"Unless you're looking to start another one," the girl added, moving past Toboe and cracking her knuckles with a frown, fully intending to physically drive the trio off on her own. They looked as weak as she remembered.

"Hey, wait—that girl _is_ a genin." The third teammate of the trio stepped forward and grabbed his team "leader's" shoulder to get his attention. "She was in our graduating class. Made a team with that quiet Ueno kid and the White Fang's son."

"Ah," the Uchiha piped in, eyes alight with realization. "She is. Dunno who the other one is, though."

Namie bristled slightly at their gossip—she knew the kids probably talked, but she'd never cared to find out what kinds of rumors or whatnot they chattered about her. Hearing about Team One was still a bit of a sore subject, however. Especially when it involved Kasuga.

The genin who'd first approached them stared down at the blonde with nothing but unimpressed blandness in his downturned eyes. "Oh, now that you mention it, I do recognize her. But from what I heard, that team's split up. Apparently she did something that got one of her teammates killed, so it was her fault no matter how you look at it."

Her breath caught, as if she'd been winded. Punched in the gut.

The other two shared an incredulous look. "Whoa, no way. I didn't hear about that! I don't think I'd be able to stay a shinobi if that were me…"

"Me neither. I'd just give up."

The leader eyed her with a nasty grin. "Maybe she _should _give up, with a failure like that. There's no room for weakness in a shinobi's life."

She swallowed down the bitter shock and narrowed her eyes, feeling an unbidden moisture spring up at their edges. They were taking critically low blows and she didn't appreciate it in the least—mainly because they were more effective than she wanted them to be. It was just brats talking—that was all it was. They didn't know the true story. Only rumors.

But _oh_ did they sting.

Was that what some people whispered when she walked past them? It didn't happen often, but sometimes she caught civilians' eyes, or even other shinobi's eyes, and they pretended not to look, but once they were out of her line of vision, she heard them talking. Pitying her? She didn't know. Blaming her? Maybe. Wondering why she was still trying…?

It didn't matter to her, not really. But when they confronted her with it and tried to use it as a weapon—it _did._ So much so that all she _really_ wanted to do right now was make that kid run home crying to his mom with a black eye or two and a very bloody nose—

"_Shut up_."

She wasn't the one to speak.

Namie jerked her head up towards Toboe and stared, bewildered, as he reached out and seized the leader-genin's shirt collar to jerk him down to his level. The boy's smug expression dropped into a worried frown as he braced his hand against Toboe's wrist and just stared, realizing he'd said a few words too much and gotten carried away.

"Don't talk about things you don't know, stupid, or I'll punch your teeth in."

A tense moment of silence passed as the two boys held eye contact, one trembling and the other unmoving and upholding the threat, and everyone remained still.

Whoever moved first would most likely be the one to strike and spark up a huge fight. But—there would be trouble if they fought with another team. Because while rivalries weren't particularly frowned upon and were encouraged more often than not, sudden brawls with fellow shinobi _were_ heavily discouraged—and punishable by temporary suspension. Toboe didn't deserve to take the fall for something like that, or to even get mixed up in it, because he was just starting out as a genin.

Not only that, but _she_ wanted to be the one to hit the kid first, if it came to that. She didn't mind facing the consequences herself since she was already technically suspended. What more could be done?

Even so, now that Toboe had become involved, the situation was going to end up a mess. It was better to stop it before things escalated.

"Wait," slowly, Namie stepped forward, covering the distance between them in one pace, and grasped the russet-haired boy's arm, tugging slightly at his sleeve. "_Toboe_, just drop it. Let's go."

He immediately dropped his hold on the other boy's shirt and turned towards his friend, blinking owlishly down at her grip on his arm as she pulled him away from the impending altercation insistently. "But Strawhead, they—"

"They're not worth it."

Toboe made to protest again, but gave in after the girl gave another tug to his sleeve, urging him to follow after her. "Fine, fine. Whatever. Right, not worth it."

Neither spoke again until they were a good distance from the training ground and back on the main street of the village.

Namie's hand remained on his arm and she continued to drag him along after her, through the crowd, seemingly oblivious to it. To everything.

"Strawhead," the Inuzuka began, digging his heels into the ground to bring them both to a stop. "You can let go now."

Her fingers slipped away from his arm at long last, leaving his sleeve wrinkled and a little sweaty thanks to the grip, but that was the least of his concerns. She still had her back to him—he couldn't see her expression.

He just really hoped she didn't look so sucker punched anymore, because it was _weird._ That group of genin had gone too far, saying cruel things like that, especially to someone younger, and _especially_ to Namie, after all of what she'd been through (which he still didn't know everything about, since information was limited and gossip was only gossip, but he knew better than to ask). It wasn't right.

It wasn't right, yet he still didn't completely understand why he did what he did. But when her eyes teared up and she looked like she was going to cry, he didn't want to see it. It just wasn't something she should do, because she never did—_she_ should have been the one ready to punch those kids' lights out, not him. When she didn't look to be in a proper state to do that, he just…stepped in. Of course, he was also upset that they'd barged in on their sparring match, so that also contributed to his reaction, but… mostly, it was in her defense. Because, even if she said it, she clearly wasn't _fine_ at that time_._

Seeing others harass the girl just wasn't something he could tolerate. They were still friends, after all, even if it was a shaky way to put it. Rivals, yes, but also friends when it came down to it. In a sense, it was something selfish, like _he_ could tease her and make her cry—if he ever managed it—as much as he wanted, but no one else was allowed to.

"You're such an _idiot_, Inuzuka." Namie turned to face him with a scowl.

"_Huh?_"

"I said you're an idiot," she repeated, thwacking him on the forehead since his hitai-ate was absent. "A total moron." Despite her words, her harsh expression had vanished.

He threw up his arms and covered his head in defense, shrinking back slightly. "What's your problem?!"

A small smile crossed her face. She wouldn't say that she was impressed with him, or that he'd gotten a little cooler and more mature since the last time they'd seen each other—or that it kind of pissed her off, because now _she_ had to show him up and not act like such a kid anymore—and _especially _not that she was starting to understand why Suzume liked him so much and that maybe she'd always been wrong in thinking he was just some annoying, whiny brat who only cared about fighting her as an obstacle to surpass.

"Thanks. For sparring with me today."

Toboe glanced away with a frown, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I just don't get you, Strawhead…and that was hardly a spar. I'm not even gonna count it."

"Then we'll just count the next one."

"Next one—I mean—Yeah. For sure! So you better get strong again, Strawhead, or else it won't even be worth it!"

"Don't worry, Inuzuka. I will."

There was no telling when the next chance would come along, but for now, it was a promise.

* * *

In retrospect, even if it was something that was out of her hands, the past three months seemed like nothing less than lost time to Namie.

She was ready to return to the old routine—to get back to her former level of strength and to continue growing into someone ever stronger. Someone capable of changing things.

Time had no pity for her painful losses or her moments of weakness. It continued to flow, and soon, certain events would be upon her.

The Third War was coming. When, she didn't know, but when it struck, _everyone_ would. With the war would come her first opportunity to turn the tides—the crucial turning point in saving the lives of the people she loved. It was what she'd been intending from the start—to save Obito at the Kannabi Bridge in approximately six years' time, or whenever it would happen. It was still difficult to pinpoint things.

But if she even wanted to _hope_ that she was capable of altering said event, she had to become a chuunin. Genin weren't allowed to fight in wars.

However, she wasn't in a proper physical state to participate in the upcoming round of exams that would take place at the beginning of autumn. Not only that, but she was lacking a team.

Once, just a short time ago, Team One had been so painfully close to earning the permission to apply for the spring's qualifying round—and would have had a fair chance at receiving promotion, she was sure—when that chance was ripped away by tragic circumstances that still hurt to think about.

She was fine with taking the time to recuperate. But she had to move forward eventually, and soon. Eight months. Eight months was all she was willing to give to the matter, then she would be prepared to take on the next spring's chuunin exam. With or without a new team—but hopefully _with._

Hiroto was proving to be an unmovable obstacle to that goal, however.

"What do you mean I can't take the exam until I'm a _teenager?_"

"That isn't what I said—I _said_, because of how things currently stand, it could be anywhere from one to two more years before you're ready to participate. I won't allow anything less than one."

"I'll do eight months, Sensei."

Namie held her ground as she stared across at the man who didn't currently hold her favor, determination unwavering.

But Hiroto stared her down in turn, arms firmly crossed, unwilling to change his mind. He wouldn't indulge her. Really—it was only the first day back. They'd only just arrived at the training ground to hammer out the new routine that would get her back up to speed, and she was already looking ahead to things like rank advancement.

He hadn't even found new teammates for her, yet.

Not to mention, she'd spent no less than three months doing little more than sitting around and recovering. Broken training habits brought consequences—simply put, she was out of shape. Not_ even_ in a proper state to consider such a demanding combat exam.

"A year is twelve months, Namie-chan. That's four too short."

The girl prickled. Her hands jerked reflexively into fists as they hung stiffly at her sides, and a scowl pulled at her face in response to the sarcastic jab. She _knew_ that. Of course she knew that. It was an attempt at compromise and _he_ knew it.

"Hiroto-sensei," she ground out through clenched teeth, "I'm fully capable of preparing in that amount of time. I'll work hard. So just give me the go-ahead, okay?" He _had_ to say yes. He had to. Otherwise, she felt like things would just drag along.

Hiroto sighed. He should have expected her difficult personality to show up just as soon as he agreed to keep her under his guidance.

"After a single year with your team, _you_ were only minimally qualified to apply." His words were harsh. Pointed. Logical. Meant to nudge her in the right direction; to reevaluate her premature request and to back down from something that was beyond her. "The chuunin exams are to be taken with a team; with people you can readily and easily cooperate with."

"But—"

"Even if you don't have new teammates by then, you could participate with two other genin you're reasonably familiar with—and by that, I mean you've worked consistently with them for _at least_ a year. You don't have anyone like that. Not yet."

"I—"

"Did you already forget the point of the genin team test?" He continued on, even when it only incensed the girl. It was a harsh truth she needed to remember.

Her teeth clacked together as she abruptly shut her mouth and dropped her gaze to the ground.

Right.

Teamwork was a large part of being a successful shinobi. It wasn't _just_ about her, or her needs and wants—she did know that. She did.

Namie exhaled slowly and crossed her arms, still avoiding her instructor's gaze. "Fine. I get it. I know I'm impatient."

Really, he was just glad she didn't ask to take part in the upcoming fall exam. She'd learned to pace herself, if only a little. Not only that, but she gave in without much fight. Already, it seemed she was making progress, however small.

The desire to pick up from where she left off and do something, anything, was something Hiroto understood. He also understood that Namie was prone to doing reckless things and taking on more than she was capable of. Always one to jump right into things, that one. But, while they were still adjusting to the lack of a team, it was best to start off slow and get her back up to speed before returning to the more strenuous training.

Before any of that, however, there was a certain issue he had to assess.

"Did you bring all of your supplies today?" he asked, if only to shift the topic of their conversation and take her mind off of the refusal—Namie was beginning to look depressed by it.

The girl briefly touched her hand against the kunai holster on her thigh, as if to double-check, and looked up at her teacher with a nod. She was prepared, more or less. All ninja weapons she usually carried were on her person, and since her spar with Toboe a few days ago that resulted in bruises on her arms, she made it a point to wrap her forearms in bandages without fail.

"Good. We're going to spar."

Of _course_ he had a sparring match in mind. To see how far she'd slipped, and which areas they needed to brush up on.

Namie observed her teacher with a slight frown as she followed him from under the shade of the trees to the open area of the training ground. Just how long had it been since she fought him one-on-one…? Probably almost a year, or close to it. During the earlier weeks of Team One. As for the last time she'd fought him with said team—that was more than four months ago.

She hoped she still remembered his movements properly.

Neither spoke again until they were in the center of the field, standing across from each other.

"I won't use my staff, but other than that we'll fight without limitations; anything goes. Am I clear on that?"

"Crystal."

"Good. The match will end when you land a good, solid hit," Hiroto explained, taking a moment to crack his knuckles and shift into a loose stance.

Namie pursed her lips dubiously. _'"When?" I'm surprised he didn't say "if—"'_

"_If _you can, that is."

That was more like it—and even though she expected the jab, it riled her nonetheless. She cracked her knuckles in kind before reaching for a kunai, arming herself. "Right. Got it. Ready when you are, Sensei."

He gave the go-signal without a word and Namie rushed in immediately for a direct hit, boosting her surprise assault with a Body Flicker.

The speed of her first attack nearly caught Hiroto off guard. But at the last second before impact, he substituted with a training dummy that received the brunt of the strike—a kunai to the head. It was a bit brutal for her, and he had to wonder if she was venting her frustrations that had been withheld for the past few weeks, or if the incident had just affected her to the point where it altered her methods.

The underlying purpose of the match was to see _just_ how much she'd been affected, both physically and mentally, because while she'd made what seemed to be a full recovery, her psychosomatic symptom and current mental wellness were still pressing concerns.

Inori had given him a brief summary of it when he'd asked. From what the doctor gathered, the damage was a result of fear. A simple cause, but overcoming it was more difficult than that, even if the feelings and symptoms had faded.

It had been the first time the girl was directly faced with an enemy who wanted to, and very well _could_ deeply harm or kill her. She'd been completely defenseless in that instant—Hiroto had seen it. The girl was without a team and on the losing side, in a position of despair, left at the mercy of her opponent. It brought fear into her eyes. A kind of helpless, disappointed terror that she would never admit to feeling—not with_ her_ pride.

A test was in order, to see if the problem would resurface and persist under certain circumstances. Namely, a trigger.

He only needed the right opportunity to try it.

Namie didn't stay occupied with the substitute for long—after kicking off from the heavy wooden dummy separating her from her opponent, she withdrew a handful of shuriken and sent them whirring in his direction.

'_Probably strung with wire,'_ he noted while deflecting the set with a kunai, taking care to check if sparks of sunlight reflected off of their paths. There was one—just behind him, to the right. Namie pulled the wire taught with a jerk of her wrist and two of the repelled shuriken were retracted, returning to catch him in the back. It was a distraction to divert his attention and set up for another surprise attack, he knew, so he fell for it to goad her into her next predictable move, because when she was working alone she relied on familiar methods.

Just as he turned back to face her, she was nowhere in sight, looking for all the world as if she'd just up and disappeared. Save for the slight disturbance in the ground that he was accustomed to seeing because he always looked for it.

What he did next was less than noble, and quite nearly psychological torture, but it was necessary.

Namie's hand shot out of the earth, and the instant it did, he snatched up her arm in an iron hold and uprooted her, leaving her dangling mid-air, close enough to see eye-to-eye.

Only, the eyes she met were not Hiroto's own dark ones, but those deep, empty, dead-fish eyes of the large, sinister S-ranked Iwa shinobi she'd faced before.

The reaction was instantaneous—but it wasn't a retaliation, no. Her expression, a slack-jawed face of surprise, immediately recoiled into pure, unadulterated fear. Disbelief. Blue eyes widened to their farthest point and pupils constricted reflexively; her mouth worked soundlessly as her jaw trembled, unable to speak.

She faltered.

But only briefly. Then, she was fighting his grip, sinking the fingers of her opposite hand so deep into his arm that the nails pierced the sleeve and drew blood, might have even cut straight through to bone if he didn't release her in that same moment.

Fighting, desperate, like a wild animal.

Namie dropped to the ground, silent, expression frozen in dread and legs failing her as they shivered uncontrollably.

The sight nearly made Hiroto sick.

Not because she failed to respond—not even close. It was because that missing-nin had inflicted such terror on one of his students to the extent where she was rendered almost immobile and left in such a vulnerable state. Left as an easy kill that any of her enemies would have readily taken, had they been aware of her weakness, or even worse, capable of drawing it to the surface of her consciousness.

Perhaps genjutsu-resist training was in order, as a failsafe against those measures.

Hiroto dropped his transformation disguise and crouched down beside the girl, taking her by the shoulders and trying to bring her back from the trauma he'd intentionally induced—and oh, did he feel guilty. Even if it was for her sake. But—maybe it was too much. Maybe it was wrong. Or worse, maybe he was _right._ If the symptom returned and rendered her out of commission once again, setting her back further, it would be his fault, and his responsibility to set it right.

"_Get ahold of yourself, Namie._ It wasn't—"

A sudden, half-hearted punch to his chest caught him mid-sentence. He glanced down at the small fist pushing against his flak jacket and all he could do was stare, really.

"…You're an asshole, Sensei." Her voice was a little weak. Shaken. But the more she spoke, the stronger and steadier it became. "A real, grade-A asshole. How could you?"

When Hiroto looked up again, Namie was frowning. Scowling, really. Didn't look pleased at all, but upset. Betrayed. He slowly let go of her shoulders and leaned back to put some distance between them as he studied her carefully. "Were you scared?"

Namie pulled her fist back when it was no longer in contact with her instructor and massaged her knuckles needlessly, ignoring his question and not meeting his openly concerned yet scrutinizing gaze, glaring at the ground instead. "That was a really low blow, Hiroto-sensei."

"Just be straight with me, Namie." He kept his tone level. Unapologetic. "You hesitated. It was real."

"I _wasn't_ scared. Don't be stupid. But—throwing something like that at me all of a sudden, just—bringing that back up—it caught me off-guard, okay!? And it was uncalled for!" Now, she was angry. Indignant. All but yelling, fueled on by her encounter with that group of rude genin, fueled on by awful memories, and her voice held undertones of fear, directly contradicting her words. The notion to punch him, _actually_ punch him, crossed her mind as she eyed him with both disdain and uncertainty, before turning away to push herself to her feet a little unsteadily. But then she was standing firm, with both legs supporting her, as if to prove a point.

Her reaction told him all he needed to know. He'd been wrong in thinking she would be affected the same way—fortunately. However, the situation remained unresolved. It was only natural. Compared to the tragic circumstances of Kasuga's death, everything else she faced that day fell short. Didn't seem to matter and was pushed aside. But she'd overcome that loss. Now, it was time to focus on herself and smooth over the issues that had been left unaddressed, and to come to terms with them so that they didn't _remain_ a problem.

Maybe his methods were far from kind, but if he'd simply stopped to ask her if she'd moved past that trauma, she would lie. She would pretend she was fine and make it sound as convincing as possible, just to avoid confronting it—all so she could continue on with her training without delay. Because when something involved her, and _only_ her, she buried it away. Didn't care as much. Her reactions were always much stronger, much more acute, when another was involved—whether it was to keep information away from them, as with her brother; whether it was protecting the life of her teammate, as with Kakashi; whether it was being _unable_ to protect her teammate, as with Kasuga…

She didn't prioritize _her own_ safety and well-being nearly enough. For an adult, veteran shinobi, that wasn't an unknown condition, though it was rare—and dangerous. For someone as young as she was, no matter what state her mind was in… it was far from healthy.

He'd seen people destroy themselves with things like this.

It would be impossible to move on if she didn't acknowledge it.

"Namie." She whipped around to face him again, expression livid, when he spoke her name. "For once, just tell me the complete and entire truth."

"Are you saying I'm lying?" she asked quietly, eyes narrowed, as she tightly gripped the hem of her shirt, fingers clenching and unclenching around the material as she worked to calm her racing pulse.

Hiroto didn't bother standing, and instead remained kneeling, more or less at eye-level with the girl, and maintained an even stare. Neither accusing nor suspicious. Then, he briefly broke eye contact, just long enough to run a tired hand over his face.

Why couldn't she ever just be honest?

He returned his attention to the blonde before speaking slowly and clearly. "I know we haven't always been on the best of terms—I don't even know if we are right now. But remember that_ you_ are the one who asked to remain under my instruction. So, at the very least, I'm asking you to _trust_ me. As your teacher. If you can't do that, then…this won't work. We can't move forward."

"I…" She tried to speak, but her words failed her. So she didn't say anything for a moment, and just held his gaze, letting his explanation sink in.

Slowly, it dawned on her. He was only trying to help. Once that intent became clear, her anger, her distaste—that whole mess of feelings subsided.

Really—why had she even gotten so upset in the first place? That simulation attack that brought up bitter, disgusting memories, that was barely even _humane_, was so like the man. Spartan. Unrelenting. Underhanded, but effective and—essential. If he hadn't brought that up, she would have let it remain in the past, bottled up and untouched, thinking it was nothing, only to rear its ugly head again at any time in the future, working against her—and maybe causing her death.

She never realized how truly frightening the experience had been. No—she just didn't want to admit it. But, along with that, she was ashamed of her over-defensive, emotional response.

Hiroto was helping her because she'd asked. She _did_ trust him—she'd proved that much by expressing the desire to remain on his team. But just that wasn't enough. Even if he didn't usually bring attention to it, he knew when she lied, when she withheld information—he was an accomplished shinobi from ANBU, after all. He'd known her, been well-aware of her and her habits, for the past four, almost five, years. Pretending to be strong was useless; pretending to not be afraid was pointless. Honesty was a part of trust. If she couldn't manage that much, there was no point keeping up a sham mentorship that would benefit neither of them.

Namie slowly lowered her eyes and exhaled quietly. She lifted her right arm, gripped it with her opposite hand and studied it, recalling the sensation of that bear-like hand that ensnared it in a bone-chilling, violent hold and crushed it, maimed it, chased the feeling from it and then aimed to do the same to her leg. But now, there _was_ feeling. It was in the past. She was healed, standing on both of her feet, away from harm.

She'd been wrong, thinking the paralysis was brought about by just the inability to save Kasuga and the crippling guilt that had accompanied the failure.

Fear was a formidable thing. It wasn't easy to face it, but it was necessary.

"I was scared. I hesitated," she spoke at length, confirming his previous comments. She let her arms fall back to her sides and shrugged helplessly. "I thought I was over that—all of that. Didn't think it mattered. But it did."

Hiroto remained silent, attention still focused on his student as she finally admitted to the fear she'd tried to hide. Her hands curled into fists and uncurled as she reached for the proper words and her gaze wandered across the training ground.

"And—the other day, last week, when I was sparring with my friend, the same topic was sort of brought up. I was angry. Hurt. Upset? I don't know, but I'm not as over it as I want to be. It's…complicated."

He willingly overlooked her comment about sparring in favor of the current situation. "I don't think you gave that as much of your focus during the past few months. It was eclipsed by Kasuga's death and its aftermath."

Namie openly flinched at the way he could speak of the tragedy so easily and became startlingly aware of the difference in their stations—he'd dealt with death much more than she had, so it stood to reason that he also came to terms with it more quickly than she could. But that was exactly why he was in a position to help her along. "…Yeah. What happened to me seemed like nothing compared to that."

"Now it _is_ time to focus on you, if you ever want to reach the same level as before."

"I know, but…"

"I'm not going to say it won't happen again, and I can't say I'll be there to help, either. _But if you prepare yourself_ for it, you won't be at such a loss next time. That is something I can help you with."

A prickle of humiliation coursed through her as she thought of her earlier demand to participate in the upcoming spring's chuunin exam. He must have thought she was an idiot for asking. She was weak now, barely in a state to fight. It seemed as if all of her light, confident feelings about getting back into the swing of things and making progress lately were just naïve and optimistic foolishness.

She'd forgotten to look after herself, that entire time. Just what could she do if she wasn't in the right state of mind?

Absolutely nothing.

He was right to keep her as a genin for at least one more year.

"I want to keep moving forward. I want to be stronger, Hiroto-sensei."

'_I don't _want _something like that to happen again.'_

A fleeting smile crossed his lips. Namie's words were full of resolve. He rose to his feet and reached behind his back for his weapon. "Then let's start again, from the beginning. Unfortunately, I can't count that punch as a hit. And I don't appreciate being called stupid, either…so I think I _will _use my staff this time."

The girl managed a grin, uplifted by his words, as she prepared to fight one more time. "Bring it, Sensei."

Certainly, the trust between them may have reached a new level—even if she was still a cheeky brat.

But her ability to bounce back so quickly was admirable.

* * *

**A/N: **Only a brief note today. Writer's block struck me down like the plague and I'm just trying to come out of it unscathed. Also, I'm still trying to find the time to write and return to a semi-consistent update schedule.

Eternal thanks to everyone who reviewed and gave feedback/faved/followed/read since the update before the last one and also since the last one! Oh, and the current poll's been closed after an overwhelming result.


	30. Twenty-six

**Chapter Twenty-six: Learning to Grow, Struggling Uphill **

* * *

The past week trudged on by at a teeth-grittingly slow slug's pace for Namie. Its end came as a great relief.

It was difficult, getting back into the swing of things. Not only that, but her muscles ached. The kind of ache that went all the way to her bones—the kind she hadn't felt since her training with Kushina from so long ago. So much so, in fact, that she couldn't muster up the strength to climb out of bed for most of the morning.

She was in an uphill stage, so she didn't expect any less, really. If she continued on at her current pace, she would clear the top of that hill and reach her goal. And she would reach it. Giving up was a foreign concept to her.

But eventually, thanks to the heat of the day that would only become worse as the moments passed by, Namie found the motivation to haul herself away from the mattress, and untangled her body from the stifling sheets that were no longer cool to the touch.

Not even the floorboards were a refreshing relief to the rising temperature, she quickly realized. When her feet touched them, they quite nearly stuck there, thanks to the sweat on her soles and humidity in the air. Because as if the heat wasn't already enough of a downer, the weather had to manifest itself as a muggy, persistent hotness that lingered instead of an arid, detached one.

'_Just _perfect_.' _Her face contorted into an unpleasant grimace.

It was a day that would be better spent lazing around in front of the air conditioner, or by the riverside, but she couldn't be so lucky to have that kind of time on her hands. Besides, she'd had more than her fill of sitting around doing all but nothing already. There were other, better things to do.

* * *

Namie loitered awkwardly on the front porch of Kushina's home, hesitant to raise her hand and knock on the door to signal her arrival. It was the first time she'd ever visited the place. Not only that, but it was the first time in quite a while that the two had time to interact with just each other.

The girl's home was situated just on the outskirts of the old Senju compound, which wasn't nearly as cloistered or unfriendly as its Uchiha counterpart, but exactly the opposite—and not really much of a compound at all.

Houses were widespread, despite the land not being particularly large, leaving gaps and lots of dirt between them, which she suspected once hosted households of their own. These small, traditionally cozy and somewhat antiquated, homes lined either side of the property, with the main house—where the first leader had lived once, along with Uzumaki Mito, according to Kushina—at the back center, standing tall. Few of the clan members could be seen milling about the place, and though the residents came off as cheerful and kind enough, taking the time to smile and greet her as they passed, the deserted sight was a bit…lonely.

There weren't nearly as many Senju as there were Uchiha.

It was never something that struck her as odd, that no one explicitly named "Senju" had ever made an appearance in present times—save for Tsunade, who clearly hailed from the clan based on her lineage alone. It also wasn't ever an area of particular focus, or her business, so she never cared to look too far into it.

But, because of the atmosphere of still…loneliness that permeated the place, Namie had to wonder just how Kushina could stand living in such a place—and she briefly thought to ask her when she planned on moving away. Maybe further out into the village, or closer to the Namikaze family apartment, even.

Maybe with Minato.

But that wasn't the purpose of her visit. Kushina asked for her to stop by with groceries that day and she readily agreed. She shifted, unwrapping one arm from around the paper bag filled with vegetables—a request from the redhead herself—and raised her knuckles to knock at the door at long last.

Kushina showed up at the doorstep immediately, grinning brightly. "'Bout time you got here, Namie-chan!" She was in for the day, it seemed—her long hair was set in a low ponytail and she was sporting a casual t-shirt and black, yellow-lined track pants as lounge clothes, instead of her usual, more familiar, kunoichi wear. Not only that, but she wore a pastel-colored apron over it all.

Namie initially wondered if they would be training, like they used to do often, but those thoughts were dashed when the grocery list shopping became a factor. And then, further dismissed by the older girl's manner of dress. They were most likely going to be cooking today, she realized. Why, she wasn't certain—though the topic had come up in passing when the girl came by to visit some few weeks ago. She'd absentmindedly agreed to cooking lessons, thinking Kushina's offer to teach her wouldn't be brought up again anytime soon.

But…that couldn't be all there was to it.

The redhead took the grocery bag from the younger girl's hold as she ushered her into the home, grin fading slightly as the humidity from outside seeped in. "Man, what crappy weather—thank god for air conditioners, right?"

There was definitely more to it. That smalltalk seemed forced.

"It's pretty shitty," Namie replied, intentionally starting off with a swear to see how the other girl would react.

She didn't—only closed the door behind her and padded quickly down the long hallway towards the kitchen while the blonde paused to remove her sandals. "Well, let's just get started already, then, 'ttebane."

"What are we making today, Kushina-nee?" Namie marveled at the clean, neat, almost bare state of the girl's home as she meandered past the living area on her way to the kitchen. It was strange that someone as energetic and rough as the Uzumaki girl had such an orderly living space—in fact, she was half-tempted to check behind closed doors and see if the trash and clutter were all crammed away somewhere else so it wouldn't be scattered all across the tatami mats. Even her own room wasn't _this_ pristine.

The only thing she could even potentially consider "messy" was the low table in the center of the living room that was occupied by a small wicker basket filled to the brim with warm-colored yarn and needles and an unidentifiable project in-progress.

"Somethin' really good—don't get ahead of yourself. C'mon!" Kushina backtracked just long enough to reach out and snag the younger girl by her shoulders, steering her away from the living room and back towards their current destination.

The dining room and kitchen were much more welcoming, much to Namie's relief. They actually managed to look lived-in. Considering how talented the redhead was with cooking, it may well have been that she spent most of her time at home here instead of any of the other rooms. Especially since there was an air conditioning unit crammed precariously into one of the windows. The dining room table, set up high, in western-style, displayed a scattering of empty soda bottles, one only half-empty, and a dirty plate and miso bowl.

The kitchen, however, was orderly. Mixing bowls and chopping boards, as well as various cutlery, were spread out neatly across the counter, and dirty dishes were absent from the sink. It was a clean area—but Namie was sure that there were telltale smudges of a scorch mark just above the stovetop.

All of this just made the girl more curious to see the other areas in the house—especially Kushina's bedroom. It probably looked like a tornado ripped through it.

Namie picked up one of the familiar santoku knives from the white countertop, eyeing it curiously, placing it to a far-off memory, as the redhead busied herself with emptying the grocery bag, then bustling to the refrigerator to pluck out more ingredients.

Of course, she occasionally helped Taji in the kitchen for meals, but the woman always refused to let her to hold anything like a kitchen knife—even despite the fact that she was a genin who knew very well how to wield a kunai. She was thankful for Taji's overprotective, helicopter parent-like tendencies at times, though—during the first few weeks after Kasuga's death, just the mere sound of anything being cut up on the chopping board made her ill.

She wasn't even sure if she could handle chopping vegetables or meat or whatever _now_—hearing that sound, a throwback to that painful night—

But it wasn't the same. She could bear with it—she was sure. Kushina went through the trouble of setting up a cooking lesson just for her, after all. It would be a shame if it went to waste.

The more she thought about it, the situation was almost bizarre. It was such a domestic scene that contrasted starkly with her training days—she wondered just what she was doing here, in a kitchen, now, instead of out sparring or training to grow stronger. Knives and such were better used as weapons in her hands instead of as cooking tools. As it was, things like cooking no longer interested her, especially when frozen dinners and corner store food were easier to come by.

She wasn't sure when that shift happened—when she'd stopped caring about the little things, but…aside from her goals…everything else about this life just seemed so colorless. Pointless. She'd already set her reason for being, her goal, so everything else that would have made her life a _life_ just seemed like extra. Like filler. Her life, her existence, was for the safety of others. Bonding, becoming friends—it was just going through the motions as an outsider. Because, even if she hadn't known these people as family, even if they didn't get along as well as they did now, she still would have tried her damnedest to make a change.

Normalcy and the state of mind to accept things as they were now was something far out of her reach. It was almost unfair.

Something coldly damp smacked gently against both of Namie's cheeks, drawing her from her thoughts with a start. "Wh-what?"

Kushina withdrew her recently-washed hands from the girl's face, smiling—but there was a faint crease of worry between her eyebrows. "Don't space out on me now, ya hear? If you lose focus while you're cuttin' something up, you'll end up chopping into a finger or two. Then blood gets in the food you've been working so hard on, and it just gets really gross and goes to waste…" she trailed off with an unhappy look on her face, lost in a memory. "Anyhow, you should wash your hands before touching any of the food."

…But the fact remained that she _had_ created those bonds with others, and that they did care about her, on a deeper, human level. She was in too deep to forget that now, and to treat those relationships as something distant, as mere by-products of her current goal just because they were people she'd once known on a two-dimensional level, _just_ for the sake of becoming strong enough to protect them, instead of something to cherish.

Probably, this entire visit came about because of Kushina's concern.

"Right. Sorry Kushina-nee." Namie set down the knife and did as suggested. The apology had a deeper weight to it than the comment merited, like an unsuspecting trigger.

Kushina blinked at the small blonde as she observed her, mouth twisted in worry. Her behavior now was considerably brighter compared to how distant and melancholy and just unbearably _sad_ she'd been after the ordeal with her kidnapping and teammate's passing. Yet the fact remained that there was something troubling about it.

Maybe it was because neither had discussed the incident since it occurred, which was partially her own fault. She hadn't been as much help as she'd wanted to be, even if the situation was out of her control. She wasn't even sure if Namie was aware that she'd been present to help. It wasn't something that she would assert, either, considering how things ended up. Considering how _she'd_ been the one to tow the two genin along after her on the impromptu, naïve "rescue mission" and…well…if maybe she _hadn't_ done that in such a headstrong rush, then one of them wouldn't have...died.

Minato assured her that her doubts and guilt were nothing to dwell on—because, even with the best of intentions, she couldn't have stopped it or changed the outcome. There was no blame to burden her.

But the thought that maybe Namie would see things differently if she were to find out about her involvement—if she _did_ blame her for it—

—if she _hated_ her for it—

—and that it would tear their friendship to pieces, weighed heavily on her heart.

When Namie finished drying her hands and turned around ask again about just what they were going to cook and where she should start, she was forced to do a double-take. Her eyes met the sight of Kushina frowning, lips pressed tightly together, trembling, and tears swimming in her eyes instead of grinning her typical, cocky grin and brimming with energy and cheer.

It was the first time she'd ever seen her so upset to the point that she was in tears. Maybe she'd underestimated the situation here—maybe it wasn't in response to _her._ Had something else happened?

"_Kushina-nee?_ Are you—"

"Don't tell _me_ sorry, Namie, I'm—dammit, _I_ should be the one apologizing here, 'ttebane!"

The passionate, raw emotional outburst was fitting of someone like the redhead, but it rattled Namie nonetheless. Mainly because she was at a loss—confused, but also concerned. Seeing her friend in such a distressed state prickled at her and brought a sympathetic wetness to her own eyes.

"Uh—_Why?_" she managed to ask, eyes wide as she briefly glanced around the kitchen in a panic for a box of tissues, because those tears were about to flood right out onto her friend's cheeks—and because of the brief, bizarre thought that tears getting into food would be just as bad as blood from a knife injury, since it would make things too salty and unpleasant. The only thing nearby was the hand towel she'd dried her hands on, still clamped in her grip.

She barely finished speaking when Kushina launched into a tirade, expressing her pent-up feelings, guilt and remorse, blubbering on until the tears were streaming freely and her face looked a mess; until her words were barely intelligible between sobs. Then, she flung her arms around the little blonde, and the only words that left her lips were heart-wrenching apologies of her own.

Tears dripped steadily down Namie's face by the end of the outburst as well, soaking into Kushina's hair as she knelt to embrace her and bury her face against her shoulder, holding tight. The notion held a great deal of care. Of love—and also fear. Because she'd just bared her heart, spilled her emotions, and was still awaiting a response, whether positive or negative. The reaction would either shatter their relationship or strengthen it.

It was a familiar gesture. She could remember it—place it perfectly, even, almost as if it were overlaid—from Taji, from the first time she'd hugged her after the incident, and held her close, apologizing then, too—though through actions and not words. It was a familial kind of concern, because they both loved her as someone who made up a part of their family. Because her pain also hurt them, and their pain hurt her.

…She was such an _idiot._

Because she neglected facing things like this, others suffered, too—were left writhing in a state of uncertainty and anxiety, wondering, always wondering.

Those close to her had worried for her during the past three months. Of course, she'd worried about them, too, but never focused inwards on herself. It was just easier that way. But if she failed to understand difficult matters on a personal level, she couldn't truly empathize with others who experienced similar occurrences. If she failed to understand those matters, she couldn't move beyond them. She knew her family was concerned for her for that reason as well, but acknowledging it, sharing it—without hiding any of the dirty, awful details—was still difficult.

But it was necessary.

Her own reason for crying was brought about by a deep-seated shame. Because she was such an emotionally-constipated moron who tried to handle everything herself and didn't rely on others emotionally as much as she should. She made them _worry_. This much. Yet she'd even had the brief notion to distance herself even further, stupidly enough. Just what was all that drivel about her _caring,_ when she neglected to recognize her loved ones' own feelings?

She was a selfish idiot; painfully shallow up until that point.

She knew about Kushina's involvement in the rescue on the night of her kidnapping, yet stashed that information away, along with the rest of what transpired. Pretended it didn't exist. Didn't speak a word about it. Didn't think it needed to be acknowledged—when, the entire time, it had been on the redhead's thoughts until it all boiled over and came crashing down.

She didn't even _blame_ her for it. She was like a sister to her—she could _never_ hold that, or anything, against her. She was half of the reason why she was even bothering to make an effort pushing herself forward.

Slowly, slowly, Namie lifted her arms to return the embrace, pressing her hands against the teenager's back—and it struck her just then that Kushina _was_ indeed still a young person at only sixteen, not nearly an adult just yet (and teenage years were so _awful_ a time, confusing and emotional enough already without the shinobi lifestyle)—a little awkwardly as she cried out her worries.

…Wasn't _she_ technically the adult here? Trapped in the body of a child, but still.

Funny, as a ten-year-old—almost eleven—child she'd already encountered more situations that required mature thought in one short year than she'd ever faced in her entire first life as a young adult. Yet...she still couldn't fully consider herself an "adult" when she couldn't properly face them.

Figuring out how to handle that was the hardest lesson of all—and it had a steep learning curve.

"I get it," Namie spoke at length, voice thick and congested with an uncertain compassion as she struggled to find the proper words for the situation and keep her tears at bay, "I know, Kushina-nee. You don't—you don't have to apologize. It wasn't your…it wasn't anybody's… Things were just…" She couldn't continue.

After a moment, Kushina pulled away, face blotchy from crying and nearly at a shade to match her hair—but the tears had ceased. She raised a hand to swipe at her eyes regardless, and Namie mechanically held out the dish towel, realizing it had been in her grasp the entire time. The redhead accepted it and noisily blew her nose into it without a second thought. "No way, 'ttebane, I—I really _am_ sorry, Namie. Especially for layin' all this down on you all of a sudden. I just—couldn't keep it in." She laughed weakly. "You know how I am. And this was supposed to be a fun day…"

"It's no problem. I mean it." She admired the way the girl could be so naturally open and honest with her feelings, really. "But…it really wasn't your fault, Kushina-nee. There's no way I could ever think it _was_."

Kushina took a moment to continue wiping at her eyes and damp cheeks until they were dry. "Enough about me—Minato's worried too, y'know," she said after rising to her feet, looking a great deal more relieved and happier than before thanks to that emotional catharsis. At long last, she looked like her usual self. "We're all worried, really. How are things?"

"They're moving along," Namie began, but paused. First instinct was to be vague and give a wishy-washy response, but keeping up the honesty Hiroto had prompted was something she would need to grow accustomed to eventually. Better sooner than later. "I'm…still working through a lot of stuff. But nothing's as bad as it was at first."

At the mention of her brother, she realized they had yet to discuss the matter as well—and he never was one to push it. Nor would he cave in under the pressure of keeping it all in, like Kushina.

_Hadn't she once made a promise to go to him when something difficult came up…?_

"I'll talk to Minato about it next time I see him," Namie replied, wondering—hoping—she could uphold those words when the appropriate time came around, because even with the best of intentions, some things had a way of getting pushed aside. "But, for now, let's get started on those lessons, Kushina-nee. I kinda suck at cooking, so I need all the help I can get."

A grin—bright and cheerful, once again—crossed the redhead's lips. "Don't worry, Namie-chan, I'll turn you into a culinary genius in no time!" She glanced down at the towel in her hands, expression turning sheepish. "But, uh, first I better go get a clean dishtowel."

Namie watched the redhead hurry into the hallway with a small smile. She was as reliable as ever.

Uzumaki Kushina really would have been a great mother to Naruto, if she'd managed to live the first time around—that was the first time it really struck home with Namie. She would make damn sure it happened _this time._ No matter what.

* * *

The week passed quickly by.

And, as expected, Namie did indeed make steady progress in that short amount of time. Nothing worth starting her on missions again, but that time would soon come.

For now, it was still slow going—which meant more breaks than usual and plenty of time to consider just how things would play out over the _next _few weeks.

That is, just what Hiroto would do about the currently incomplete genin team under his command.

Finding others capable of taking on someone like Namie was…difficult. Picking up two freshly-graduated genin was out of the question, because they just weren't ready to handle the difference in skill and experience. The ideal choice was to integrate her into a team that had lost its third teammate to circumstance, whether good or bad—but most hopefully good, at this stage. As in, a duo of genin whose other partner had graduated to chuunin already. Even better, if that teammate retired due to family reasons. Of course, their instructor would have to agree to lend the students' training over to him, too. Whatever the case, he was seeking out that option first and foremost.

But there was just no telling when that convenient type of opportunity would crop up.

As things were, he was starting to think that maybe she would be stuck with him and his individual mentorship until she reached the rank of chuunin. That wasn't a bad thing in itself (aside from the fact that he would have to deal with her attitude on his own, which, while amusing, could also be a pain in the ass), because he did favor one-on-one training as opposed to group training in most cases, but the fact remained that…

Well, she _needed_ a team. Because she was just too unruly and headstrong on her own. She'd proved so during her kidnapping, as harsh as it was to hold that against her, but that was the reality of it. Her teamwork with others outside of her former team needed a good deal of polishing up as well—if she ever wanted to reach the rank of chuunin, and surpass even that, it was a necessary thing to grow accustomed to. Spending a little over one full year as part of an operable cell just wasn't adequate experience.

But she was a promising student. He didn't regret bringing her back under his instruction, regardless of her difficult personality and his former misgivings about being able to train her properly with his current skill level. There was a chance she could become an ANBU hopeful in the future, after all. The latent talent and ability was all there.

It was only a matter of drawing it to the surface, which brought him back to his current predicament: she needed a complete, stable team right now.

"So, what do you think?" After finishing his account on the matter, Hiroto threw a glance towards Inori, who sat beside him at the _Sake Sake Ya_ bar nursing a small cup of sake, face arranged in a careful blank. He had some of the alcohol as well, set in front of his crossed arms atop the counter, though it went largely untouched. His friend was more the drinker than him—but that habit dwindled since his marriage one year ago. Either way, tipsy or sober, the Yamanaka was his go-to man when a particularly irritating problem came his way. He was almost frighteningly skilled at providing feasible solutions.

"Hmm, sounds to me like you're just not brave enough to tough it out on your own, Saru-chan."

He was also pretty good at zeroing in on self-doubt.

And he liked to tack on irritating honorifics like that when the booze got to him. Hiroto had forgotten what it was like, being addressed in such a flippant way, but he could relate to Namie much more easily, now. Inori's sudden, teasing grin was irrationally annoying at that moment.

When the dark-haired jounin kept his silence, Inori scoffed and reached out to smack him on the shoulder, then leaned his arm against him, heavily, always one to kick personal space to the curb and get a little touchy-feely when he was buzzed. "It's normal, right? You're not that great with kids. Aside from your li'l brother." He paused to rub at something in his eye. "But, as for what you had to say, that was pretty sound. I agree that Namie-chi should keep being exposed to that collaboration factor, for now."

'_Namie_-chi?' The girl would be furious if she'd ever heard _that_ devolved honorific being slung her way. But it made Hiroto crack a small grin anyway—and start to think that maybe Inori had been sneaking more drinks when he wasn't watching. He covertly pushed the mostly-empty sake bottle across the counter, out of his friend's reach, while doing his best to remain sitting up straight with the man leaning almost all of his weight against his side. For a slim man, he was damn heavy.

"Finding the right team is the hard part, though, that's true. I don't have anyone in mind at the moment, but…" Inori reached out for the sake bottle, but when his hand met only air, he shrugged and finished what remained in his cup. "I'll look into compatibility. 'M sure some suitable genin'll show up sooner or later."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

Unfortunately, Inori hailed the bartender for another full bottle, so he finally had his refill.

"How's she doing?" the blond questioned cheerily, letting his gaze wander throughout the establishment. It wasn't a particularly busy day, considering it was mid-afternoon, caught in that awkward time that was well past the normal lunchtime rush and too soon for the rowdiness of nighttime outings and celebrations. There were two others, besides themselves and the bartender, settled in, keeping to themselves.

The emptiness of the place wasn't a problem. It was quiet and still; peaceful. The perfect time to chat with his long-time friend, and, well, it was the only time he could find the time to relax with how busy his schedule had been lately—not to mention how things were faring on the home front. Rearing children was a challenge.

It was times like this that he was thankful for alcohol as a de-stresser.

Hiroto watched the other man sway on his seat a bit, wondering if he was doing it intentionally to keep up a silly, drunken front—because he_ could_ hold his alcohol well—or if the sake really was starting to catch up to him, before replying. "Namie?"

"Yep; how's Namie-chi been?"

"Angry. Prickly. Sort of like an irritated cat."

Inori barked out an obnoxious, loud laugh that startled a nearby patron into sloshing their own drink partially over onto the countertop, but no one paid it any mind. Drunks were fine there, as long as they were harmless and happy drunks. "That's a given."

Hiroto smirked. "She's impatient. But doing well. Handling things one step at a time." He shot a sly look towards his tipsy friend. "I'm planning to start her on genjutsu lessons soon."

Inori returned the glance with an understanding nod and quirked brow. Genjutsu was far from the other man's forte, at least beyond a base level. "Are you askin' me for help, Saru-chan?"

"Only if you want to."

"Y'know, I'd just love to, but I think you should stick this one out. For a while, anyway."

"…In other words, bringing in another instructor would only complicate things at this point."

"_Bin—go_. You know me and my intentions too well." Inori sipped at the sake before openly glancing at his friend's own still mostly-full cup and squinting. "But, one thing—why genjutsu and why now?"

Of course he wouldn't let the matter go without looking further into it—that proved that he wasn't nearly as drunk as he appeared. His mind was as sharp as ever.

Hiroto relayed the situation he'd encountered while sparring with Namie, organizing his words clearly and taking care not to mince any.

It wasn't that he particularly wanted the girl to learn how to harness illusions and stow them away in her arsenal of skills, no, his aim here was to train her to resist them properly. Hallucinations were on a different level than his faux-assault from before—they were far more dangerous. They preyed on weakness and anxieties; on fears and doubts. Even with Namie currently dealing with what had transpired over the past few months, even if she came to terms with it all without any trouble, all of that would be for nothing if it could be undone by a single, well-planned distraction.

It was for the sake of defense.

"I see. I see! Thorough, aren't you, Saru-chan? But, genjutsu..." his voice trailed off. "Well, I'm sure she'll have no problem with that type of thing with that unorthodox little mind of hers. Unless," he paused, considering his words, and tapped his fingers against the sake bottle before tipping it and filling his cup once more. "Unless she ends up hating it, like you. You two are pretty alike, after all. She reminds me a lot of_ you_, at that age, in fact."

Hiroto scoffed, noticing the dig in his comment. "You're drunk, so don't make me hit you, Inori." His hand curled into a loose, half-threatening fist. It was an empty warning—he would never strike his friend over something like that.

"There! See? She would say the same thing!" The other man was all grins, because he knew it, too. But, after he took a moment to calm down, sitting quietly and staring into the clear liquid within his cup, something else occurred to him. "How 'bout you? How're you holdin' up?"

"Just fine." He didn't take a moment to think, because there wasn't much to say.

Inori's eyes narrowed faintly, critically, as he watched the other jounin sidelong. Of course, his face revealed nothing helpful. Not even a faint tell of worry. But that was typical. He was as bland as a rock when he didn't want to be read. "Right. You _would_ tell me if somethin' was botherin' you. I mean, I _am_ your bes' friend."

"You are." The slurring in his friend's voice was almost blatant now. Whether it was authentic or not was still unknown to Hiroto, but either way, it was probably time to get him home before his wife started to fret. But then again, she was so busy with their baby that she may not have even given her husband's absence a second thought. "And I would, trust me."

"Good, good. Greeeat!" After downing another cupful of sake, Inori leaned his elbow against the counter—and when it slipped off of the edge, pretty much missing completely and almost resulting in the blond toppling out of his seat, Hiroto figured it _was_ time to get the man home, if only to get him away from the atmosphere.

He pitied the genin students that would get this man as a teacher, if it ever happened.

* * *

"We're going to start _what?_" Namie asked blandly as Hiroto informed her of his intent to begin a genjutsu unit as soon as they reached the usual training ground. She'd heard him well enough, but couldn't quite grasp the meaning of his words.

Mainly because, as Team One, their area of focus emphasized taijutsu and ninjutsu. The subject of illusions never came up even once. She was aware this type of thing _would_ come up eventually, since shinobi learned a balanced triad of techniques, at least at a base level, before picking up their main skillset focus—but she didn't expect it to come around so…soon.

"Genjutsu," he repeated, arms crossed. Of course, his tone left no room for objection.

Of course, she did so anyway.

"This is only the second week. I still have a ways to go before I'm back at my original level, so picking up something new just sounds counterproductive, Sensei."

"You have something against multi-tasking, Namie-chan? You've done it before."

"Well, no, but…" Her response trailed off as she considered her previous lessons with Taji that involved developing her shield technique. She'd come far enough to work on that without supervision, now, but the fact remained that she was still able to juggle that kind of training along with her current regimen. Still, picking up _another_ topic to start fresh on while she wasn't completely up to speed was a waste of time. "Genjutsu?" Even the word sounded uninteresting to her ears.

Hiroto sighed. She was strangely adverse to the idea, but perhaps skills that involved the mind were still a touchy subject for her. "It doesn't hurt to learn it early on. Especially when it comes to countering. You have a grasp on the concept, right?"

"Yeah. 'Disrupt the affected chakra flow with more chakra' and it comes apart," she recited.

"But you've never tried it before."

"No…"

"It's harder than it seems. Preparing yourself beforehand is something you'll be grateful for, when the time comes."

That phrase again.

It took Namie a moment, but she realized just what his reasoning was—and it was sound. Illusory attacks centered around the mind, which could become a weapon of weakness in the wrong hands. More so for those who encountered a great deal of trauma and tragedy—or, for her _personally_, because she had a veritable treasure trove of memories and nightmares. Of course, the great majority of genjutsu attacks didn't reach in that deep to bring gritty past experiences to the surface and merely conjured random mirages instead, but there were a few users who had the talent to get creative with their mental assaults. On the off chance that she ever encountered one of these…she _would_ be thankful for the practice.

"Alright, alright. I'm not underestimating it or anything, Hiroto-sensei. I just never thought of _you _as someone who uses genjutsu." She shrugged. He was set on it either way, so she may as well get used to it. "I mean—you've never tried it in a sparring match before."

Namely, during their fight last week. It didn't strike her as odd then, but the more she thought over it, the stranger it seemed. Using genjutsu for an ambush like that would have been the typical way to handle it.

So, why hadn't he? It was suspicious, but she knew better than to ask.

"Don't worry about me. Just focus on yourself." Telling her outright that genjutsu was his least favorite subject, not to mention one he never bothered to cultivate past the basics, was out of the question—she would just use that to argue against him until he changed his mind. Without another word, Hiroto raised his hands, musing over which attack he would use and which hand seals it required, while Namie stood across from him, looking panicked.

"_Hey_, just wait a second, Sensei, I've never been exposed to genjutsu before, so—" the words caught in her throat as a sudden, misplaced wetness surrounded her feet. But not only her feet—the entire surrounding area, not from just the forest clearing, but also the tree beyond. Rippling waves, swirling, steadily rising, like a small ocean.

No—it _was_ an ocean. The treeline vanished, leaving nothing but an expanse of the clear blue sea stretching on, as far as the eye could see, towards the dividing horizon between water and sky.

There was no longer solid ground beneath her feet. It was water, unsteady, un_solid_, and it rose up to greet her the moment she glanced down—or rather, she fell straight into its depths, as if she'd slipped and her back never met the ground. It submerged her. Filled her lungs.

It felt so awfully familiar, like a bad dream, and it dragged her down; she was bogged down by her own weight, or gravity, or—she didn't know.

Even as her mind screamed that this _couldn't_ be happening, because she'd just been at the training ground, nowhere near the seaside, fighting the urge to keep breathing and not suffocate, trying to _survive_, outweighed the need to gather her senses and calm down long enough to escape the illusion—because it was an illusion…right?

Suddenly, her feet touched sand—had she sunk to the bottom? No—the ocean was gone. There was no ocean. The forest returned; the ground was solid beneath her feet once more. And she could _breathe._ But—no. She'd been breathing the entire time, and didn't feel labored at all. There was no water. Her body was dry—hadn't even broken a sweat.

She glanced around just to double-check, to make sure this wasn't a hallucination within a hallucination, because it seemed like a tactic he would use, but Hiroto was standing in front of her in the same place he'd been before he cast the genjutsu, hands no longer set in seals. He dispelled the technique—immediately, maybe? She wasn't certain how long she was caught in it. Seconds. Minutes.

"It's over," he assured, holding up his hands. "But there's really no other way to start besides throwing you into it. Now, describe it. What was it like?"

_Throwing_ was right—the whole thing seemed more like some sort of twisted swimming lesson that involved throwing her in at the deep end headfirst. He tended to do that quite often lately.

Namie rubbed at her arms, feeling her—dry—skin and finding comfort in the fact that there was no evidence of the genjutsu left behind except for a mild case of nausea. She glanced up at the man, displeasure pinching her features. "It felt real. Too real. I mean, I knew it wasn't, but it felt like it was. I couldn't move." Her description sounded poor and lacking to her ears compared to what she'd experienced, but at that point, she didn't care. "_This_ is what genjutsu are like?"

Hiroto nodded. "This is what genjutsu are like. Even if this one was incredibly toned-down."

"Toned-_down?_" She briefly wondered if he was being modest, but he wasn't the type to downplay or brag—only to say things how they were. "Great. This is just gonna be tons of fun."

* * *

Fun, of course, was the most sarcastic term she could have used.

Namie didn't like genjutsu training—no, in fact, she _loathed_ it. If everything went the way she wanted it to, she never would have been subjected to the stuff. Her methods were always more hands-on, after all. Physical. A little violent. Mirages and hypnotism and whatnot just weren't something she'd ever favored and, quite honestly, they seemed like a cop-out.

A coward's technique.

That may have just been her bitterness speaking, though, since she wasn't talented with resisting genjutsu in the least.

The concept was simple enough—as soon as she realized one of the illusions caught her up, she needed to send a surge of chakra through her mind to untangle the disrupted mess caused by genjutsu, dispelling it. In practice, it wasn't so simple.

After two hours of continuous practice with Hiroto that resulted in hardly any noticeable progress, not to mention an increasing aversion to anything related to water or the ocean because he repeated the same illusion over and over (she came to the irritated conclusion that it was probably the only one he knew), she began to wonder just what she was doing wrong.

"I'm total shit at this," Namie grumbled under her breath as she scratched at an old grass stain smudged on the edge of her shirt, resisting the passing desire to kick at the ground in frustration. "And I hate it. Is it really necessary?" There was a hard, angry edge to her tone.

Hiroto regarded her quietly for a moment, knowing full well that she was acting so petty because she felt inadequate. Back when he'd first started to train her in Team One, when her skills were comparatively weaker, she'd reacted the same way; she was impatient to improve. Or, rather, perhaps this was the first genuine obstacle she'd encountered that couldn't be overcome as usual.

"It's…difficult," Hiroto ceded, fighting the habit of replying with something strict to nudge her in the right direction and to keep facing the challenge that he was certain she could beat. That would only make her angrier, now, and if irritation and frustration continued to cloud her mind, no progress would be made that day. She was giving it her best effort; he knew that, so he would treat her accordingly. "But it _is_ necessary."

Namie glanced up sharply, questioning what she'd just heard, with disbelief in her eyes. "What, Hiroto-sensei, you're not gonna criticize me? Tell me to apply myself more?"

"Consider it a free pass—only because I've never seen you struggle so much with something before. Don't get used to it." He waved a dismissive hand. Breaking down and building up was only one way to handle things. Sometimes, teaching required a kinder approach. At least, as _kind_ as he was capable of.

"…Right." The lack of a lecture was still strange, but she would just have to throw her suspicion towards him to the wind and learn to accept that there was method in his madness. He was her instructor, after all; he_ did_ want her to improve, even if those methods were questionable at times. As he just loved to remind her, one day she _would_ be thankful for the training.

"But I think it is worth mentioning that some of your old Academy classmates are already doing fairly well with genjutsu. Especially those two you seems so fond of." A smirk crossed his face as he spoke, not quite sarcastic or teasing, but not quite friendly, either.

Her face mirrored the expression—unkindly—because she should have expected the words. Because she knew _just_ who he was referring to. And, especially, because she knew _he knew_ how she would react. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep at it, won't I?"

It was still the uphill stage, Namie reminded herself. She had to keep pushing forward, striving for the top, and everything would go downhill from there.

She just didn't realize at the time that _downhill_ was both a positive and negative circumstance.

* * *

**A/N: **So, in the word processor doc where I keep this story, it's gotten well past 300 pages and still going strong despite occasional writer's block. I'm pretty sure that's the most I've ever written for one project—ever. It feels like a milestone or something! Speaking of milestones, over 500 reviews already? Along with a great deal of faves and follows, too! Thanks everyone! Also, I know things are moving along a little slowly now, but please bear with me.

In other news, **tokibun** has drawn an _amaaaazingly_ wonderful compilation of headshots for OCs of various great Naruto SI fics and Namie is one of them! Please go to** tokibun's** profile or to my profile for the link to check out that awesome fanart!

Eternal thanks for all reads/faves/follows and also thanks for reviewing: **firetemplar415, greymouser, tokibun, Counting Sinful Stars, skidney, 10th Squad 3rd Seat, Tamani, XemyPoo, tainted lovely soul, coronadomontes, littlemelonatplay, Zecrea, hurro (Guest), Nameshaper, Shad0w W0lf, Doujin-Maker,** **SilverBladeStar, EdenMae, **and** Ensavondel. **And I always forget to say this, but thanks for the community adds, too!


	31. Twenty-seven: All Present, A Calm

Nothing in this world came naturally for Namie. Taijutsu, ninjutsu, the shinobi mindset—the proper, responsible adult mindset—all the skills she'd cultivated up to now were all developed through hard work and devotion. Constant training. Perseverance. Still were.

It wasn't any different for genjutsu. She knew that. She did. But it didn't change the fact that she _sucked._

Getting a solid grasp on genjutsu was damn hard; harder even than the advanced stages of fuinjutsu, which she hadn't touched for quite a while_._ At first, she blamed her lack of aptitude on the fact that Hiroto only implemented the lessons one—sometimes twice—per week among everything else. But that simply wasn't true. It wasn't his fault at all, because there was nothing stopping her from picking up a few books and studying the art on her downtime.

Which she did. Still, there were no noticeable results and she didn't quite know why.

One thing she _did _know, however, was that she was beyond tired of losing against her teacher's genjutsu and ending up flat on the ground with the breath knocked out of her that day.

"_Asshole_," Namie wheezed out while picking herself up from the dirt and glancing at the treetops overhead, scanning them for a familiar, somber face. The branches swayed slightly, leaves rustled in the wind—an innocent sight. It wasn't a misstep that led to her losing her footing and crashing to the ground, no, but a genjutsu ambush.

Hiroto was forced to change his methods when repetitive exposure to that annoying underwater illusion became a disadvantage—she didn't miss it. Once, and only once out of a dozen times over the past two weeks, Namie broke out of the genjutsu on her own thanks to the knowledge that it would be the same old thing as before. That wasn't how it worked in real-time, though. She would only have one shot at best to get it right in the midst of a fight, life-or-death or otherwise, so he'd taken to springing genjutsu on her when she least expected it.

His attacks were subtle, too: little, sneaky things like creating an imaginary foothold in her line of vision or erasing an upcoming, low-hanging branch. Concealing a rut in the ground and leaving her to trip over it. Attacking her face with a fake butterfly that just wouldn't get lost. He always remained nearby when he cast the techniques, too. Mostly out of sight, but still close. She could only imagine how amusing it was for him.

"How the hell am I supposed to break out of a genjutsu when I don't even know one's in place, Sensei?" she griped out, eyes still fixed upwards and trying to find the man. He tended to erase his presence when an illusion was in place.

"That's the point of it." His voice rang out from above, extremely close by, but there was no body to be seen. Like a poor imitation of the Cheshire cat, especially since he never _grinned_. A second later, he dropped noiselessly down from the branches to the ground beside her and brushed a few stray leaves off of his flak jacket. "You need to be completely aware of your surroundings so you'll have a better chance at detecting changes. I've noticed you're a bit lacking when it comes to that."

Namie held his cool gaze for a moment, with a glare, before shutting her eyes and breathing out a resigned sigh. Never one to pull the punches, that one. "But everything else is coming along just fine. In fact, can't we forget about this for now and get some extra ninjutsu training in?" she asked, hands already folded together eagerly, ready to perform hand seals at a moment's notice. Recently, she'd been working with the Body-Flicker technique—learning how to move short distances at super-quick speeds was far more exhilarating than mirage play. Even if it did weigh on her mind like an unsolvable problem.

Hiroto would have liked to say yes—wished Namie could pick up on genjutsu quicker so they could move on, but also understood her struggle and the necessity for her to master it. Instead, he bluntly refused. "You know the schedule; you get the rest of the afternoon off and we pick up ninjutsu first thing in the morning." He paused for a moment, watching her disgruntled behavior. "You _can_ make progress here. Take a while to think about how."

His rare, mild encouragement wasn't unwanted. However, it wasn't particularly helpful, either. "…Alright. Tomorrow, then," Namie huffed, a pout forming at her lips as she glanced away in disappointment.

Their daily lessons might have been over, but she wasn't quite prepared to rest.

* * *

"This is a surprise. What did you call me out here for?"

Suzume stood, tall and cool—at least, taller than Namie, but still short for her age—sporting her forehead protector proudly on her head (it served as a headband fixed across her skull to tame her wild, curly locks, flattening them down a little ) as she met her blonde friend outside of her mother's home. Honestly, she was surprised the girl remembered where she lived at all, since it had been perhaps two years since the last time she'd been by the place. Since their Academy days.

Namie remained silent as she gathered her words, wringing the edge of her shirt between her hands. "I heard you're doing pretty well with genjutsu lately, Suzu-chan."

"Not too badly, I suppose," the brunette replied modestly, head leaning to the side as she observed her friend, curious. Her attention drifted when she noticed a leaf caught in the other girl's messy hair, stuck halfway in the fabric of her forehead protector and her spiky bangs.

Judging by her scuffed-up appearance, she'd just come from a training session. It was the first time she'd encountered Namie since her recuperation period, but…it was nice to see her back in the swing of things again, all fired-up and unkempt. Just, _normal_. Though, her hand twitched briefly at the sight of that hair. If only she was within reach of a hairbrush…

"As expected. So, I figured you'd be the one who could help me out a little." Her typically arrogant tone remained, but there was a bit of pleading beneath it. "Just like our school days, right?"

"Just like ours school days…" the other agreed, trailing off. "Hold on—are you saying _you're _having trouble with genjutsu?" One eyebrow quirked—but the other soon followed suit, and her eyes widened in wonder behind those thick, coke-bottle lenses. Namie wasn't usually so quick or upfront about asking for assistance. Mainly because she never needed it, at least when the finer aspects of kunoichi training weren't involved. But everyone had a poor subject or two, especially when it came to the foundation trio of shinobi techniques, so it wasn't that strange that genjutsu was where she lacked.

Even so, Namie had the nerve to scoff. Acted nonchalant. "_Trouble?_ I just have a few questions. That's all."

The girl was completely transparent. Even so, Suzume wasn't confident she was the best person to lend her help. She shrugged and glanced down the street behind Namie idly, lips pursed. "Well, in a way, I'm a little flattered you decided to come to me with this, Namie. But…I have someone a little better in mind."

"Huh? Who else?"

Suzume raised her eyes to the sky, following a cloud's lethargic journey, wondering if she should disclose the information or not after she'd already hooked her interest. If she did, well… there was no telling how Namie would react. On the other hand, there was no assurance the person in question would even _want_ to help. Not when they were both such competitive knuckleheads. But if she really was looking for help, she deserved the best and there was no way she would deny her that. Something could be worked out—Suzume was sure of it.

She met her friend's blue eyes, watching for a reaction, as she phrased her response with care. "Would you believe me if I said it was Toboe-kun?"

Namie laughed—actually laughed. The sound was entirely expected. "Sorry, what?"

"Toboe-kun is better with genjutsu than I am," Suzume restated, unwavering.

There was a beat of silence. Shuffling could be heard within the house, where her mother Tsubame was rearranging new furniture. She should be helping, really, but the woman sent her away to socialize, claiming that it was important for a young girl to nurture the relationships she'd cultivated. Networking was an important aspect of kunoichi life. But, just as much, so was keeping friends. Of course, Namie wasn't her mother's favorite person (mostly because of her attitude; she was someone who'd garnered the label "wild person"), but they were able to learn from each other regardless so she approved, if not grudgingly.

Finally, she responded.

"Uh, what alternate reality did I just enter? You _are_ Suzu-chan, right?" Namie reached forward cautiously with a pained, weirded-out grimace on her face before tapping the other girl's shoulder timidly to make sure she was real and solid.

"Namie…"

'_You are ridiculous.'_ Suzume truly wanted to say that, but refrained.

The blonde drew back her hands and held up both in defense at her friend's warning tone as a light grin played at her lips. "Okay, okay. It's not completely hard to believe, I guess. I mean, sometimes talents develop a little later on for some people, right? But—genjutsu? That's usually what, uh,_ intelligent_ people excel with." That was as lightly as her cynical personality allowed her to put it.

Suzume wondered if Namie realized she'd just spoken against herself, given her current predicament. "Maybe he's smarter than you give him credit for. Intelligence can show up in several forms."

"I'm doing my best to be open-minded here. But…" she rubbed the back of her neck, thinking back to their sparring match. Any other time, she'd jump to protest and say he wouldn't bother to help her at all, but now, after their little encounter with those stupid, rude genin, the thought didn't exist as an_ impossibility _in her mind. He wouldn't agree easily and without an attitude, though. They _were_ still rivals. "Still, I bet he'd lord it over my head and never let me live it down. Or something."

"It's up to you. But I think asking would be worth it. Of course, I'll help out either way."

"Okay…" She may have agreed, but her expression was sour and unenthusiastic.

"Let's go to the Inuzuka compound, then, shall we?"

* * *

The Inuzuka compound was a familiar place—it was one Namie quite enjoyed, actually, because it was home to as many dogs as there were people. Most were well-behaved and noble, trained ninken, but a good few of them were puppies, too. Rambunctious, playful pups that ran up to greet visitors and chased their heels with abandon while they walked about. In the past, Kurocha was the leader of the welcome wagon, but now he was nowhere in sight among the many furry faces. Naturally, he would be with Toboe.

Suzume almost regretted bringing the blonde along—just _how_ many puppies could one little girl fit between her arms? If one more jumped up at her she would definitely topple right over—

"_Kurocha!_" There it was.

And over she went.

But not only was she assaulted by wet-nosed kisses and drooling tongues—some of the dogs were soaking wet and covered in soap suds, too. And mud, since they'd tromped all across the dirt-covered ground.

Suzume would have been inclined to lend a hand if she didn't want to keep dry and well away from the muck. But, going by her cheerful shrieks and laughter, Namie didn't need rescuing, anyway.

"_Man,_ what's the big idea, running off like that! All of you reek, especially you, Kurocha, so you need to—" With a sudden call, Toboe came careening around the corner in a similar state to how Namie now looked, splattered with water and dirt alike, and stopped in his tracks as soon as he spotted the two familiar girls.

Namie managed to push herself up into a sitting position while the canines crowded around, and waved a hand in a lazy greeting, looking particularly pleased with her mob of puppies.

There was a moment of hesitation, but Toboe then made a grand, exaggerated display of rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Sheesh, first Kurocha, now all this? You're like a dog whisperer, Strawhead." He turned fully towards his childhood friend with a scowl, ignoring the blonde's returned grin. "What's_ she_ doing here, Suzume-chan?"

"Genjutsu."

"Gen—genjutsu?" The russet-haired boy repeated, shock replacing his irritation as he faltered. "Why?" It was an area of study he was _finally_ more than just decent with—better even than Suzume, so far—but the notion that Namie was even more proficient with it pulled at his nerves. She was already better at everything _else._ With a change of heart, he whirled on the blonde and eyeballed her intensely, expecting to hear the worst.

At long last, Namie untangled herself from the mess of dogs, whose excitement began to wane in favor of something else more interesting, and—with Kurocha tucked safely in her arms—approached the other two genin. "Suzu-chan tells me you're gettin' to be an ace at genjutsu, Inuzuka. At least, for _your_ age." Of course, she had to throw in a snarky remark. "How'd you manage _that?_" Her eyes narrowed faintly, suspiciously. But the effect was greatly watered down by the fluffy dog she held, because Kurocha was far from threatening and actually appeared to be more of a harmless, fuzzy bear cub than anything else.

"What's it to you?" His lip jutted out as he scowled, challenging her.

"She's looking for help," Suzume intervened, knowing their verbal head-butting could go on for quite a while if she didn't.

"_Help?_ Why? Do you totally suck at it or something?" Toboe spoke thoughtlessly, more sarcastic than anything because there was no way _she_ was bad at anything, but when the blonde actually, openly, flinched he regretted his choice of words. His mind jumped back to their most recent sparring match and he remembered she was still working through things, getting her strength up—maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. Because, with Suzume there, he was sure to get scolded.

More importantly—was it _true?_

All eyes were on her now—even Suzume's—and Namie felt a prickle of discomfort at being so put on the spot. If she said _yes,_ she _did_ suck horribly at genjutsu, and tried out the honesty thing again, she was sure her pride would take a huge blow. But—what did it matter? She _was_ allowed to have a few weaknesses here and there. There was no shame in that; nobody was perfect. She could still kick Toboe's ass any day if he made fun of her for it. That was her decision.

"_Yeah,_" she said slowly, painstakingly, through gritted teeth. "Yeah, I kinda do. So what?"

Both Suzume and Toboe fell silent. Glanced each other's' way, blankly, then looked back at their friend. Glanced at each other again, gobsmacked, before looking her way once more and keeping their gazes fixed there.

"Can you say that again?" Toboe asked sheepishly, a smirk rising to his face. When Suzume elbowed his ribs, he straightened up and shook his head, humbled. "Okay, _okay._ I heard you, jeez, but—seriously?"

Namie bristled and curled her hands into fists at her sides. "Dammit, Inuzuka, if you're not gonna help just forget it. This was a bust, Suzu-chan."

"I'll help," the boy replied quickly, easily, folding his arms behind his head. The two girls immediately locked eyes with him and their surprised reactions unsettled him a bit. He forced a toothy grin to smooth things over. "I mean—if I'm good at something, who am I to withhold that talent, right? In fact, I'd say it's pretty generous of me to agree at all. But, you did go through all the trouble of asking, Strawhead, so—"

Suzume elbowed him once again, harder, this time, and he double over.

Toboe wheezed slightly as he straightened his spine once more. "But you gotta help me give all these dogs a bath, first."

* * *

Suzume did try her best to stay clean that day, but in the end, came out stinking of wet dog fur just like Toboe and Namie. The payoff, however, was…more or less worth it. It was a win-win situation.

Seeing those two getting along—and not just going at each other's throats during a spar, fighting, or bickering, but conversing calmly—was a sight long overdue.

"Shinku-sensei is really good at explaining genjutsu," Toboe stated, scratching at the knot of his forehead protector as the trio sat at the base of one of the few trees located on the clan property. Kurocha, along with half a dozen other dogs, sprawled lazily around them on the sparse patch of grass in a semi-circle. "In a way that I can really get a grasp on. I even helped Suzume-chan a little. Right?"

"Right," Suzume nodded, observing the two while petting Kurocha's ears. Toboe sat leaning against the tree trunk while Namie sat across from him, legs crossed, still watching the boy dubiously with a half-lidded gaze. She still wasn't completely sold on the idea.

"So, what exactly is it that you don't get, Strawhead?"

"It's not that I don't _get_ it," Namie countered, pouting. "I'm just having trouble."

That didn't say much. He waved his hand, silently prompting her to continue.

"Figuring out when I'm caught in one," she clarified, patience straining. "I'm working out a way to deal with that one my own, but it doesn't hurt to ask what others do."

"What _I_ do…?" Toboe glanced out across the compound's grounds, jaw going a bit slack as he fell into thought. "Uh, well…I always sorta have a little chakra spread out so I can tell where Kurocha is. When that feed gets cut off, interrupted or whatever you call it, I know somethin's up." He brought his gaze back to Namie and shrugged. "That's what Sensei told me. Didn't even know I was doing it until he pointed it out. In a way, I have an advantage there, since I can tell I'm in a genjutsu pretty much right away and all." There was a note of bragging in his voice.

"That's…kind of cool," Namie muttered, musing over the implications of that explanation. _'Is that some type of sensory skill? Didn't know he was capable of something like that. Maybe Suzu-chan was right.'_

Suzume nodded, a small smile reaching her lips, as if she'd read her thoughts. When Toboe wasn't exclusively focusing on his rivalry with Namie, and instead working on his own growth as an individual, there was surprising progress. And it was undoubtedly cool.

"_Totally_ cool!" Toboe agreed eagerly, beaming. "Jealous yet?"

Namie rolled her eyes. "Not even."

Still, the beginnings of an idea stirred within her thoughts.

* * *

D-rank baby missions were absolutely _awful_. There was no other way to describe them. They were mind-numbingly boring things that could very well have been taken care of by those who requested them instead of the young shinobi they were pushed off onto.

Namie hoped she'd seen the last of them when Hiroto allowed Team One to take on slightly more difficult missions that actually paid well and helped provide field experience. But after a month-and-a-half of training, the man deemed her fit to carry out her duty once more, and most likely probably intentionally set her back on the roster for the easiest, least stressful missions possible—the much-hated baby missions.

At this point, she would have been happy to accept a job cleaning up Old Lady Kiku's house, even if it was on her own, instead of what she was currently tasked with. That is, document delivery.

She was a _messenger girl._

Not only that—her destination was the Uchiha district.

Between weekly genjutsu lessons—which were still ongoing, still proving to be a challenge—and going back to that stodgy place, she would have easily chosen the former. Even if they weren't enjoyable at all.

It was almost laughable that_ her_ mind could be messed with to such an extent, especially considering what she'd endured years before with Inori and his studies. But after discussing the matter with Toboe and Suzume and hearing out the Inuzuka's method, she began to wonder—since her developing shield technique could resist mind probing, then in theory couldn't it also counter genjutsu, if she figured out how to handle the chakra correctly? The physical act of searching the mind versus the mental act of inflicting illusions were two different matters, naturally, and different types of techniques, but if she could find a way to make it work in a similar way, like a mental tripwire, detecting genjutsu and breaking them would be child's play.

Of course, shooting for immunity would have been preferred, so she wouldn't have to deal with genjutsu _at all_, but there just wasn't a way to achieve that as long as she had a chakra system. The most she could hope for was the chance to minimize exposure time as far as possible.

As for why working out just how to do that was such a pain in the ass, it was probably because she was actually, _consciously_ attempting to protect her mind this time around instead of letting it react on its own. And this time the stakes weren't quite as high—or even stakes at all.

Putting those thoughts aside, Namie set her hand on top of the two large, stacked lunch containers she'd packed up that morning before heading off to the administration building to receive her current mission. Cooking lessons with Kushina continued as a bonding past-time when their days off coincided, and those sessions always resulted in more food than she could ever eat alone—or even with Taji and Minato, and even sometimes Hiroto, who actually really didn't trust her amateur cooking and usually declined. The redhead was a culinary fiend who ate for two thanks to being a jinchuuriki, but her sense of what a normal-sized serving looked like was skewed.

That was fine when training was involved, because exhaustion came coupled with hunger and the excess of food was more than welcomed then, but when she was left with too many leftovers on missions days or days off, it tended to just sit around and go to waste. And she did so hate to waste food.

It wouldn't go to waste if she set up a picnic, however.

Obito lived in the Uchiha district—and it had been a good while since their last visit. He was the perfect guest to tag along for such a thing.

That was the single thought that kept her feet moving forward at a quick, steady pace instead of a sluggish, lazy, unmotivated shuffle. It was better that way, really—the walk to the neighborhood was a long one, but at least the roads weren't quiet. Her route cut through the market district, too, so there were plenty of people afoot. Bustling, chattering, shopping—if it weren't for the crowd taking the dullness away, she might have cried from boredom.

But when so many people were out in the afternoon, she was bound to run into a familiar face. Should have expected it, really.

Hatake Sakumo and Kakashi entered her line of vision the moment she turned the street corner. Their backs were facing her, however, and she could go unnoticed, if she wanted. And she _did._ Namie wasn't sure just what possessed her to backpedal and throw herself back around the corner like an idiot just to remain out of sight, but it was done.

"I'm a moron…what am I _doing?_" she muttered to herself, knocking the back of her head against the wall behind her before glancing ahead, careful to remain out of sight. Stalker-mode was already activated. The last time she'd done such a thing was during Minato and Kushina's first date, but then she had an actual _reason_ for remaining hidden. Now, she didn't. Only maybe curiosity and reluctance.

The two men—man and boy—exchanged words calmly. Or, at least, she thought Kakashi was talking, too. It was too hard to tell at this distance with that mask of his in the way. But whatever he'd said caused Sakumo to reach down to ruffle his son's hair, laughing.

For a brief moment, she was grateful. Sakumo was still alive and well, and he looked happy. They both did. Like a family should. It was an oddly touching scene, watching father and son interact and—just seeing Kakashi being treated well by someone he loved, who loved him. God knew he needed that familial bonding to last as long as it could.

Sakumo's descent into dishonor and his subsequent death were fast approaching. As with everything else at this point, she didn't know when, only that it was a definite thing.

But...right now, there was still time. Time for family.

Namie felt that if she did pass the two by, and somehow caught their attention, it would break that peaceful, tender moment. She and Kakashi were still at odds, after all. Hadn't parted on the best of terms. For now, the boy didn't need any distractions or encounters to bring up a sour mood—something that was sure to happen when they were in each other's company because she just couldn't resist teasing the serious kid.

And also, maybe just a little, she wasn't ready to talk with him yet. Wasn't quite sure what to say, since they no longer had a team in common.

She watched for a moment more as the two silver-haired Hatakes browsed a selection of summer melons at the fruit stand. It was almost bizarre, in a way—the idea that Kakashi was a normal child when the shinobi business wasn't involved. He did normal little kid things with his dad, like maybe playing the watermelon smashing game on a hot summer day, taking the time to enjoy a break between training, just having fun and maybe laughing—no, she decided. Not laughing. He was still far too serious for something like that. Probably.

But it was…_normal._ A side of his life she'd never seen. Didn't _want_ to see, because it seemed so like spying on the pages of a friend's secret journal, even though they were out in public, amid so many others. It was his; no, _theirs_—acting as an observer wasn't right. That was no longer her place.

The blonde quietly turned her back on the gentle scene and retraced her steps along the road, figuring up an alternate route that would completely bypass those two. There were several side streets, so it wasn't difficult to visualize a new itinerary, but in her haste to distance herself from the scene, she didn't quite pay attention to her surroundings.

And crashed right into a young girl who just stepped out of one of the shops.

The child let out a startled cry as she toppled over onto her rear, the contents of the box she was once holding in her hands spilling out onto the ground around her. It was takeout from a restaurant—a mishmash of noodles and rice and vegetables that were once probably arranged in a nice, pleasant way, but were now seasoned with dirt.

"Oh no! My lunch…"

Namie opened her mouth to apologize, but the words stuck.

She was strikingly familiar in a way Namie couldn't quite place, with her short brown hair, wide brown eyes, and purple rectangles of an indeterminable clan, if any, painted on her cheeks. It was a face the blonde had seen before, she was sure of it—but why couldn't she place a name to a face? In this world, not just anyone could catch her eye like that. It had to be someone worthy of remembering, who she'd seen once before.

The brunette child's eyebrows scrunched together and her lips pressed tightly against each other; as if she were trying her hardest not to cry. That alone drew Namie back to the present, because it was her fault—she'd knocked the girl down.

Panic and worry rose within her at the sight of tears. "Sorry, sorry! Here, are you okay?" Namie stretched her hand out to help the girl up, knowing the food was beyond saving—just _mortified_ that she unintentionally wasted so much of it. It was practically a sin! "I wasn't watching where I was going—I really messed up. Sorry! Just—_crap_—don't cry?" The last thing she needed was a brat wailing in the middle of the street right beside her—just how would that look, a shinobi making a little kid cry? Even if she wasn't much older.

The younger girl stared for a moment, face still pinched up and pouting, eyes watering, but slowly the dismay faded. Instead of accepting her hand, however, she began scooping up the soiled food and returning it to its container, exhaling dejectedly. "It wasn't just you, onee-san. I was also distracted."

Namie knelt down beside her hesitantly to help. At least she didn't start throwing a fit and screaming at her. Still, she felt like a total jerk for ruining the girl's food. "No, really—you said this was your lunch, right? I'll, um, buy you a new one or something."

"I can't let you do that!" the girl gasped, looking up sharply. "It wasn't…I mean…I can just go home and eat leftovers. I only came here because I had a coupon, and it looked really good, but…"

Well, if she wouldn't let her replace it with money…

"Then, how about a picnic?" She gestured to the lunch boxes sticking out of her backpack.

"Picnic?" the girl repeated, eyeing the lunch containers curiously, as she set the last of the ruined meal back into its box.

"Yep. I have to take care of a quick mission right now, but afterwards I'm going to eat lunch. There's more than enough for the both of us."

"But…you don't mind? We don't even know each other, onee-san." There was a faint shyness in her tone. Not of suspicion, but modesty.

Namie pushed herself to her feet and held out her hand once again to help the girl up—but faltered for a moment as she spotted the rice grains stuck to her palm with noodle sauce. Well, it wasn't as if the girl's hands could be any cleaner. She grinned. "Namikaze Namie. Nice to meet you…"

She accepted the blonde's hand with a small smile and bowed slightly as she introduced herself. "Rin. Nohara Rin."

Namie's smile fell as the girl's misplaced familiarity clicked in her mind.

_Of course_. It couldn't be any other way. Just like with the other two, she'd encountered the third in an interesting, unexpected way. Now, all of the key players were present and the wheel continued to turn, setting everything into place.

"Rin-chan," she repeated, smiling faintly. "Let me treat you to lunch then, since I messed things up. If you don't mind following me around for a little while, at least."

"I don't mind. Thank you, Namie-san!"

This picnic was shaping up to be quite the event. Just what would Obito say, when he saw _Rin_ tagging along, too…?

* * *

Rin was the most well-behaved child Namie ever encountered. She was curious, but not in an annoying way. Her questions were intelligent and just impersonal enough to not be nosy; polite and composed. She didn't have any obnoxious manners or declarations to profess to the world like a certain Uchiha, nor did she have an arrogant, moody way about her like a certain silver-haired brat, either. She was endearing, and easy to talk to. She was also kind and forgiving, since she didn't hold a grudge against her for messing up her lunch—Namie knew _she_ would.

"I've never been to the Uchiha district before," Rin confessed as they neared the neighborhood's walls. "But I've heard about it from friends. What about you, Namie-san?"

Namie thought back to her visit with Mikoto—the day she'd first encountered Obito. "Only once. Mostly I've heard about it from people I know, too. I don't think it's really a place non-clan members would typically go." She turned to face the girl as soon as they stopped in front of the neighborhood's open, outdoor antechamber. "I'm going to invite one of those friends along for the picnic, too, actually. He's around your age. Maybe you two'll get along." A knowing smile quirked at the edge of her lips.

In response, the brunette girl's brow furrowed again, and she clasped her hands together in front of her stomach, twisting her fingers nervously.

"Don't worry; you're not intruding or anything. The more the merrier, right?" Namie assured as she turned to scan the grounds, on the lookout for clan members. The actual entrance at the other side of the foyer was open as well, but she knew better than to walk right in. Someone should have been on duty by the door.

Sure enough, as soon as their voices drifted across the area, an Uchiha patrolman appeared in the doorway.

"Anyway, I think it'd be better if you waited here for me. This shouldn't take long." She dropped her backpack from her shoulders and bent to unpack the lunch boxes and mission scroll before returning the pack to its rightful place, fixing the younger girl with a small grin. "Watch the food for me, 'kay, Rin-chan?"

The girl nodded, expression brightening. "Good luck with your mission, Namie-san!" Her words were sincere, and serious—a little misplaced for a simple delivery mission. But it was cute. Rin was already shaping up to be her favorite kid out of the small group she knew.

Namie would have liked to stay and chat with her more, maybe even take her along into the district, but settled for waving to the girl as she headed towards the Uchiha that eyed her curiously from the entryway.

Scratch that—the curiosity turned to dread as soon as she was close enough to clearly see the features on the man's face. It was Fugaku.

For whatever reason, he _really_ didn't like her.

"Yo, Fugaku-san," the blonde hailed cheekily as she approached the man, holding out the scroll container as something of a peace offering. To show she wasn't here to cause trouble. Or to bother him. _Much._

The dark-haired man stared her down, paying specific attention to her hitai-ate. He didn't say a word, but his thoughts were almost blatant: Oh, _you're_ a shinobi now? Gods help us.

"Here's the yearly census report form from Hokage-sama. Instructions are to give this to you directly, and if not you, Clan Head—Yoshiyuki-san…?" she spoke the name experimentally, curious is to whether she should tack on another, different honorific, even if the man wasn't her own clan leader. Namie briefly wondered when Fugaku would succeed the clan's headship.

Fugaku accepted the scroll and tapped it out of its holder and into his waiting palm before unrolling it and scanning the contents, looking displeased as ever. "Grandfather is occupied at the moment; I'll handle updating the records. It shouldn't take long, so you can take it back with you once I'm done." He sighed deeply, in an exhausted way that had her wondering if he'd been working all day or if he was just being dramatic in that typical Uchiha way, before stepping aside and waving her into the district with a halfhearted flick of his wrist. "Follow me."

'_Wow, actual clearance into the Uchiha neighborhood. What a privilege.'_

"Sure thing."

They only made it halfway down the busy street when he stopped walking and glanced at her over his shoulder to frown at the girl. "On second thought, feel free to browse the shops on this main street for a while. I'll bring the scroll to you."

It wasn't an abrupt order that sprang up out of nowhere, really—it was in response to Namie's attempts at making small talk and asking questions about the various interesting shops they passed by on the way to the main house since she'd never had the opportunity to really _look_ at them before. A small, innocent smile crossed her face. "Fine, fine." Of course, it wouldn't be that far of a stretch if he just didn't want her noisy self anywhere near other clan officials, either. "Whatever's best for you. Oh—" she paused. "Actually, do you think I could visit a friend while I wait instead?"

"Friend?" he repeated, looking ill as his thoughts immediately went to Mikoto and the prospect that he would be in the company of two noisy chatterboxes instead of just one. "And who would that be?"

"Obito-kun. I don't know where his house is, though."

As soon as she spoke, the tension fled from his features.

"Obito…kun," Fugaku mused, raising his hand to his well-defined chin. "Who exactly are his parents?"

Namie pursed her lips, shaking her head. As far as she knew, he was an orphan. "I, um…I don't think he has any?" She didn't expect the heir apparent to know of _every _clan member within the district walls, but he had to have a vague idea, at the very least. Especially if he was handling the census matter. "But he says he has a lot of cousins. And Mikoto-senpai's his babysitter. Or was."

"Ah. That child. His home is just down this road. I suppose you'll have to follow me after all." He couldn't have looked any more pained by the statement.

"Lead the way, Fugaku-san." Namie smirked, willing herself not to joke at his misfortune.

Obito's home was…lonely.

There was no other way to put it. The area of neighborhood it was situated in was lively enough, surrounded by open shops and a small crowd, and even the houses that flanked either side had children playing around outside in front of them. There were clear signs of life everywhere but in that small house, which was still and quiet.

Maybe he wasn't home.

Maybe he was home and was simply asleep, napping in the middle of the day.

Maybe he was as lonely as his house looked.

Whatever the case, Namie stepped forward to knock on the door as soon as Fugaku let her be.

The reply came instantly. Just a few short moments after her knuckles tapped the wooden surface, it flung open to reveal Obito's excited, goofy face, goggles and all, as if he'd been expecting company.

"Nam—_Namie-senpai?_" His excitement faltered into confusion. Naturally, she wasn't the guest he'd been waiting for, if he'd been waiting at all. It could have just been that he didn't often get visitors. The boy's confusion turned to suspicion. "What're you doin' here? You're not stalkin' me or something, are you…?" She opened her mouth to reply, but he continued before she could get a word in edgewise. "Just kidding! I betcha used your awesome ninja skills to find out where I live since you're all better now, right? That's Namie-senpai for ya!" A bright grin overtook his face.

The blonde couldn't help but return the expression; his energetic nature was contagious. "Something like that. I'm here on a mission so I thought I'd drop by."

"Huh, makin' house calls on-duty? Sounds like slacking, to me…" He side-eyed her with pursed lips.

Namie scoffed and reached out to dig her knuckles into the boy's skull—or what she could reach of it beyond his oversized eye gear. "Don't make me change my mind. And here I was, planning on inviting you to a picnic, too…but I guess you're too busy with criticism."

"Wha—wait, wait!" Obito swatted at her hand and straightened his messy hair the best he could, thought it still managed to look unruly and spiky. "I'm not busy! I wanna go!"

"Thought so."

"Umm—" Obito paused, fidgeting with his goggles as he lingered in the doorway. Then he remembered his manners. "Anyway, do you wanna come in? I was kind of cleaning up…sort of…I mean…it's still pretty messy. Just a _little,_ really."

"Oh? I have time. I'll help you clean." Namie entered the house when the boy moved aside to let her pass, but the moment she stepped inside, piles of clutter, clothing and trash greeted her—not to mention layers of _dust._ And—were those dirty footprints mucking up the hallway floorboards? How messy could one kid get? If she'd been the one to do such a thing, Taji would throw a fit. But, probably, she reminded herself, the boy didn't have anyone to get on his ass about keeping the house clean. Really, though, at that young age he shouldn't have to deal with the upkeep of his own home at all. It pricked at her heart.

"Obito-kun," she turned back to face him, eyes narrowed. "What part of _just a little_ is this supposed to be?"

"I _said_ I was cleaning up! It's a cleaning day, y'know! I have one once every month to keep things tidy!" Just as he finished speaking, a stacked tower of dishes collapsed somewhere in the kitchen.

"Once a _month?_ Try once a week, brat!" She slapped a hand to her forehead and sighed deeply, counting back from ten to one. "Okay. You take care of the trash. Bag it all up. I'll start dusting. Do you even _have_ a duster…?"

Namie didn't want to brag, but missions spent cleaning up Old Lady Kiku's house had made her a pro at housework, even if she didn't particularly enjoy it. Especially in a timely manner—it didn't even take them fifteen minutes to get the boy's small home shining, and actually looking _livable_ again.

"Whoa. I don't think my house's_ ever_ been this clean, Namie-senpai," Obito marveled as he ran his finger along the kitchen counter and there was no telltale trail of dust or crumbs left behind. "But I'm totally hungry now! When're we gonna go eat?"

"Oh, right. I have another friend coming along, too. She's waiting outside the district right now—it's been a while, hasn't it?" She'd nearly forgotten about Rin. But when she did remember, a hint of a smile crossed her face. "Hey, Obito-kun, why don't you go and meet up with this friend while I wrap things up with that mission? The food's already with her—you two should go ahead to Matsu Park and wait for me there."

"You got it! Any friend of Namie-senpai is a friend of mine!"

Namie watched as the boy turned on his heel and took off at a run down the street, not even giving a second thought to closing up his home. With a roll of her eyes, she pulled the door shut behind her and took a seat on the porch steps to wait for Fugaku, wishing she could see Obito's face the minute he realized Rin was the "friend" waiting for them.

* * *

Obito expected to see another kunoichi waiting outside of the compound's walls—not a familiar brunette girl in a short, pink kimono who just so happened to be his crush. He cautiously approached her, wondering if there was anyone else nearby, because just how could Namie know Nohara Rin? Even so, no matter how he looked at it, those were lunch boxes stacked beside the girl's feet—large, three-tier lunch boxes that could only be meant for a picnic outing.

"R-Rin-chan?" He cursed himself for stuttering.

The girl turned her head when she heard her name, and the moment she recognized the boy's face, she pushed away from the wall she was leaning against, raising her hand in a wave. "Obito-kun! Imagine meeting you here—but then again, you are an Uchiha, aren't you?" She laughed a bit after speaking, gracing him with a friendly smile.

"I—um—yeah! I am!" he replied awkwardly, still recovering from the surprise. Again, he stammered. He took a moment to breath, straightened his goggles, and spoke again. "Say, are you possibly goin' on a picnic with Namie-senpai, too…?"

"Oh, you know Namie-san, Obito-kun?" Rin clapped her hands together, smiling, and nodded enthusiastically. "You must be the friend she mentioned."

He grinned. "I guess so. Namie-senpai said we should go on ahead to Matsu Park and wait while she finishes her mission."

"Okay. Let's go, then."

What luck—even though Namie would be coming around sooner or later, while it was just him and Rin it was almost like a _date!_ Obito didn't find it particularly cruel to hope that maybe that mission would take his friend just a little longer.

"How did you meet Namie-san?" Rin asked as they walked side-by-side to the park. Her hands were free, since Obito volunteered to carry their lunch, so she swung them idly at her sides, cheerful.

"Oh, uh," Obito hesitated. News hadn't gotten out to the girl that he was also one of the children kidnapped during that incident, and she never was one to gossip—thankfully. He was glad for that, because it would have been humiliating if she knew. It was totally uncool, for the future, self-proclaimed Hokage of the village to be _kidnapped_ and helpless. There would be no way to impress her if she knew he was a weak crybaby. "We go _waaay _back." Four or so months wasn't much, but it was something—it wouldn't hurt to stretch the truth a little. "She's sort of like a…a teacher!"

"Oh, but she isn't all that much older than us. That must be why you call her 'senpai.'"

"Yep! How 'bout you? How do _you _know her?"

Rin relayed her run-in with the blonde earlier that day. "I'm surprised. Usually, people would just run away. Maybe apologize, but still hurry away to avoid a scene. Namie-san is really responsible. And kind."

Obito thought back to the day he'd first met the blonde, when she kept him company at the park. He thought back to all that she'd done that day for his and the other children's' sakes. Not to mention how she'd volunteered to help him clean his home earlier. Now, and though he knew it was unintentional, she'd even managed to set up a lunch date with _Rin._ Responsible and kind was definitely one way to describe her, even if he wouldn't use those exact words. "Yeah…she is."

"Anyway," Rin said suddenly, glancing at the lunch boxes. "Don't you think that's an awful lot of food for a picnic? Especially when it was originally just supposed to be the two of you. Do _you_ eat that much, Obito-kun?"

"Me? No way. Namie-senpai's prob'ly just a big eater! I mean, she's a shinobi and all, so she needs the energy."

"Wow. Being a shinobi is an amazing thing, isn't it?"

"Exactly! One day, it'll be the same for us."

"Well…even then, I'm not sure I could eat enough food for three people."

Obito laughed. "Me neither."

* * *

True to his word, Fugaku finished filling out the Uchiha census scroll in half an hour, complete with a mission receipt that stated he received the document. Returning the scroll to the administration building took barely any time at all, and finally Namie was free to be on her way.

Matsu Park was the closest park to the Uchiha compound, so it was a quick trip there, too.

Namie glanced around the open area—because while it was named for the few pine trees scattered around, there was more grass than anything—keeping an eye out for the two familiar children she was supposed to meet.

When she caught sight of them, she couldn't help but crack a grin. The two were cozily tucked away in a corner of the park beneath the shade of a large evergreen tree, chatting amiably. Rin was cheerfully laughing at something Obito said, while the loudmouthed, hyper boy himself looked a bit embarrassed, but happy with the girl's attention.

It was heartwarming, but…sad, in a way.

They were both cute kids and they got along well. Namie couldn't—wouldn't—force anything involving the two, and Rin was sure to fall for the (arguably) cool Kakashi (if she hadn't already) as far as Namie knew, but maybe…maybe things could turn out differently for them this time.

Maybe, just by bringing the two together for lunch that day, even if it was a trivial event, something had already changed. Even if it was just wishful thinking.

The fleeting thought to leave the two as they were crossed her mind. She would have done just that, too, if not for the fact that she _really_ wanted to eat lunch with their company. On the way to the park, she'd even picked up a watermelon and wooden stick, because it _was_ still summer, if not near its end, and as long as there was time to play, even for just a moment, it should be taken advantage of.

"No way. Namie-senpai, are we gonna play _suikawari?_" Obito jumped up and ambled out to meet the blonde as she approached, taking the smashing stick from her hands and swinging it around in practice, expressions shifting between amusingly serious and silly. "I haven't played in years. What about you, Rin-chan?"

"So this is _that _Rin-chan, hmm?" Namie commented blithely under her breath. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of Obito's cheeks coloring faintly, but other than that, he ignored the words. Namie only shrugged as she set the green melon down in the shade near the tree's trunk "It's not a picnic without suikawari." She shook off her backpack and then turned to the lunchboxes, eager to unpack them and eat at long last.

"I've never played. I've watched some of the neighborhood kids trying to smash one up before, though." Rin smiled a little shyly at the admission, but remained cheery. She helped Namie set out the trays from the lunchboxes as she spoke.

Obito rushed over as soon as the lunch boxes opened, dropping the stick carelessly beside the watermelon. "Good thing Namie-senpai bought one. It's no summer without it. Just wait 'til you try to bust it up! There's a blindfold you gotta wear, and then you spin around, and—Namie-senpai, what's _that?_"

Namie glanced over to where Obito was staring, with a slightly disgruntled expression, into one of the food-filled trays. There were six of the large containers unpacked: the selection was a mixed bag between Kushina's and her own cooking and since she was still learning, the dishes she created were a little…strange. Vegetables were in oddly-sized chunks and the beef and chicken pieces were thin and flimsy, slightly burnt around the edges, or large and oddly-shaped. Kushina's, on the other hand, were master-chef level: neat and perfect. But that wasn't what caught the boy's attention. The last cooking lesson involved creating cute bento meals, with attractive arrangement and cutesy-faces and animal-shapes in the food, which proved to be more difficult than the blonde imagined.

Not only that, but her idea of "cute" was a bit strange at times. And her design skills were grossly out of touch.

The two girls loomed over the lunch display while Obito picked up a pair of chopsticks and prodded at the seaweed pieces that vaguely made up an indeterminable animal's face on top of a bed of white rice and vegetables.

"It's a tanuki." Rin was the first to speak. "It's a tanuki, isn't it, Namie-san?"

Obito squinted. "Hrrm, it looks more like a fat bear. Or maybe a frog. Or—just what the heck is it?"

Namie scratched at her cheek, avoiding their gazes as they both looked to her for confirmation. "Uh…it's supposed to be a dog." She based the image off of Kurocha—a fluffy face and pointed ears, with wide eyes and a happy grin. But upon closer inspection, no thanks to how it shifted during travel, the image was ruined. The ears were smushed and rounded, now, and the eyes were crooked.

What a failure.

"Oh. I see it now!" Rin smiled politely, trying to help Namie save face.

Obito grumbled something under his breath, but when Rin nudged her shoulder against his, he responded with an energetic nod. "Right, right. A dog! Sure! I mean—hey, that red, peanut-shaped thing looks nice, too!"

"I think that's a heart, Obito-kun..."

"Oh, uh—really? Nonono, wait, _now _I see it."

Namie sighed. "Just eat already."

At least they didn't complain about the taste.

By the end of the meal, only a few stray grains of rice remained. It was perfectly enough food to split between the three of them—even though Namie was sure Obito had the biggest appetite of them all. Not to mention the worst manners. The little glutton blabbed on so much while eating that she had to wonder just how he managed to inhale so much of the food and keep it in his mouth without spitting it everywhere. And, even though he claimed he was stuffed after eating all of that, he still had the energy to haul the watermelon away from their picnic area, out into the open, so they could begin the fun and games.

"C'mon! I wanna eat some watermelon, too, so let's get started already. Rin-chan can go first!"

"Are you sure that's okay since I've never played?" she asked uncertainly, glancing up at the blonde.

"Why not?" Namie handed Rin the smashing stick and then held out a make-shift bandana that was composed of a short strip of clean, white bandages she'd dug out of her backpack. "It's not hard. You just wear a blindfold, let us spin you around a few times, then go and try to hit the watermelon. It's pretty fun."

The girl nodded and allowed the blonde to wrap the blindfold around her eyes, clutching the wooden stick a little nervously as she was led her towards the fruit. Namie spun her around by the shoulders once, twice, three times, before setting her on the right path and hurrying towards Obito, well away from the stick's reach.

"Go for it, Rin-chan!"

"Yeah, c'mon Rin-chan, you can do it!"

Rin swung once, hesitantly, and nearly lost her balance as she hit air. "This is—this is harder than it looks," she said, taking a blind step forward, away from the watermelon.

"Psst, Rin-chan, to your left, your left!" Obito called out.

"Left?" the girl repeated, turning in said direction, and taking another swing. "I missed again." She took a few timid steps forward and her foot knocked against the melon's rind.

"Swing! Break it open!" Namie yelled, caught up in the excitement along with Obito's energetic cheering.

Rin swung the stick downwards, making a solid hit against the watermelon—only, it wasn't strong enough to split it into pieces. The girl peeked out from beneath the blindfold after hearing the stick make sound contact, hopeful, though her expression fell when she realized it was still in one piece. "Well, I tried."

Obito was up next. "Don't worry, I'll get it for sure!" He swung the stick around experimentally, shifting his grip as if it were a baseball bat, while Namie cautiously tied the blindfold around his eyes—simultaneously trying not to get smacked in the face. She knocked the stick away when it swiped a bit too close and held onto it while glaring, even though the boy couldn't see.

"Just don't get too wild, okay Obito-kun? We don't need any injuries—"

He took off towards the watermelon eagerly, without waiting to be spun around first, and took a blind swing while running, obviously missing—but kept running, and tripped over the melon, falling flat on his face.

"Obito-kun!" The two girls rushed towards him to help, to make sure he didn't suffer any injuries with that accident-prone nature, but he jumped back to his feet without delay.

"I got this, I'm gonna break it!" The small Uchiha swung down towards the watermelon, landing a clean hit, and the strike brought about a small split that barely revealed the inner red fruit instead of a shallow dent like Rin's attempt. He whipped off the blindfold, all grins, expectant for victory. "See? _See?_ Oh…" his face fell into a frown as he spotted the whole melon near his feet. "Hey, are you sure this watermelon's even properly ripe, Namie-senpai?"

"I'm sure. You're just weak." Namie held out her hand for the stick. "_I'll_ show you how it's done."

As the oldest one, she couldn't let two little Academy students show her up. Especially since she and her family traditionally played this game during Kushina's birthday celebrations—and quickly learned that they had to become skilled at breaking open the watermelon on the first try, before the redhead took her turn, or else she would smash it up so bad that there would be none left to eat in that brutally squashed mess. If she had any on her shirt, she would have rolled up her sleeves with a smirk.

Obito and Rin took turns spinning the blonde genin in circles before sending her on her way. She moved confidently, though blindly, forward, holding the stick high, and swung it down as soon as she felt her toes tap against the smooth rind of the melon, knowing it broke open when a few wet chunks splashed against her ankles. She threw off the blindfold and beamed, holding her hands out to showcase her victory. "See?"

Obito and Rin exchanged impressed looks before smiling and rushing over to poke at the handful of edible watermelon pieces that were left.

Namie stood back. She let the wooden stick rest against one of her shoulders as she watched the kids bite into the messy fruit with bright grins and laughs, satisfied and content so long as they were.

It was…fun. Peaceful.

At least, until Obito started grabbing handfuls of watermelon and cramming the fruit into his greedy mouth. "_Hey,_ leave some for me, brat!"

* * *

Jounin life was a busy life, even for shinobi standards.

Being at the top of the ranking ladder, they were tasked with incredibly demanding duties that, at times, bordered on life-threatening. They were the leading commanders of their field, trusted with leading their peers as well as overseeing newly-graduated genin—and, because it took a considerable amount of dedication and hard work to maintain the rank, there weren't many around. Minato was thankful to be one of those few. But…he was also considered one of the most capable ones. Not only because he was a student of the Sannin Jiraiya, but because of the standards he'd set for himself as well. So he often found himself with quite the heavy workload.

Sometimes, the constant tasks had Minato spread thin, both with his career and personal life. Of course, he wouldn't complain about it. But the Hokage was well aware of the physical and mental states of his shinobi, and when exhaustion peaked, they were given reprieve in the form of a rest period and simple, everyday missions.

Everything was set—in four days' time, he would embark on a C-ranked retrieval mission to the shinobi outpost near the Land of Hot Water's border. Most of it was travel and footwork to reach the destination, and then a quick exchange of information with the Konoha guard stationed there. He was no stranger to the job, since he'd been sent to do the same no less than three times before as a chuunin.

But, until then, he had a small vacation. Time to catch a full, proper night's sleep, time to relax and spend time with Kushina, and his family, and…

Namie.

He hadn't been the only one with a full, demanding schedule lately. Ever since her recovery, his sister barely had a free moment between training with her teacher and studying, burying her nose in books and scrolls—and even when she _did_ catch a break, she was rarely at home.

He'd heard from Kushina (who he noticed was much happier lately) that she'd taken up teaching Namie how to cook, so that partially accounted for her absence, but… It was a little lonely, sometimes. Taji was occupied with setting up the chuunin exams and coaching the medical unit that would be on standby during the event—which would take place in one week—and his and Kushina's days off didn't always align. He expected at least Namie to be around during times like this, but he supposed that after spending such a long time recuperating she was far too energetic to go back to lounging around the house resting.

They hadn't had a chance to properly speak with each other since the kidnapping. Of course, they _had_ conversations in that time, mostly over trivial things and small talk in passing, but nothing that really addressed what happened. Nothing that eased his worry for her, even if she seemed to be doing well enough that she received missions again. Even if Taji and Kushina no longer seemed excessively concerned over the matter. In fact, the thought that she confided in them instead of him made him feel somewhat left out.

For now, all he could do was be there for her, ready to support her and listen should she need it.

"Minato-kun."

A vaguely familiar voice interrupted his thoughts as he exited the administration building.

The blond looked up to see Sarutobi Hiroto, a man he'd only seen twice and spoken a total of perhaps five words to before—a man he only knew as Namie's jounin teacher. "Yes?" He studied the dark-haired man curiously.

"I'd like a word, if you could spare the time."

It was a complete mystery what the man wanted with him, and the only thing it _could_ have been about involved Namie. But typically, as Namie's legal guardian, Taji would be the one to go to for concerns. The fact that he was approaching _him_ was unsettling. Even if there was a calm, unrushed atmosphere. Minato turned to fully face the older man and nodded his head. "I can spare the time. What would you like to discuss, Hiroto-san?"

"I understand you're undertaking a C-rank mission soon. I'd like you to take Namie along, if you don't have any objections to that." Rather than a discussion, it was a straight-to-the point request befitting of an accomplished, businesslike jounin.

Briefly, Minato thought to question his words and intentions. Certainly, he was an upperclassman whereas he'd only been a jounin for a little under a year, but they were of equal rank regardless of experience. It was just as much his responsibility to evaluate the request and decide whether to accept or deny it. "Is she ready for something like that?" He spoke cautiously, without the bias of a sibling, but with rank authority. If there was the slightest chance her current condition could jeopardize mission success, no matter what kind of mission it was, he couldn't agree.

Hiroto watched the blond coolly, a glint of approval in his eyes. Namikaze Minato was someone capable of separating his business life from his personal life, and he wasn't afraid to question the words of someone with more experience instead of simply going with the flow of things—in that way, he was much like Namie. He was sure the young man would have reacted in a similar way even if it hadn't been his younger sister involved. "As for her progress at this point," he began, "and speaking as her teacher, I believe it's something she's capable of. But the only one who can decide if she's ready is Namie herself."

"I'm sure she'll jump at the chance to go," Minato responded, no longer doubting her capabilities thanks to the man's words. "I think it would be good for her." Now, he spoke as her brother; as someone concerned for her well-being.

"I don't doubt it. There is, however, something I'd like to confirm."

"Confirm?"

Hiroto nodded. "That's right. It's why I'm approaching you with this, actually. I want you to suggest the idea to Namie and send her to me for permission once she agrees, as we both know she will." He paused. "I don't think I need to tell you to leave this meeting out of it."

The man was his sister's teacher—and a trusted jounin. Even if his method was underhanded and contrived, there was definitely reason behind it. For Namie's sake. If he could help out, in whatever way, he would. "I'll do that. But can I ask why you aren't taking her on a mission yourself, Hiroto-san?"

"Official business. I'll be away for a while starting the day after tomorrow, otherwise I would. But things have a way of working out," he explained. "I'm grateful for your cooperation, Minato-kun."

"It's no—" Minato began, but not a moment before he started speaking, the other man Body-Flickered away. "—Problem."

He'd met a few eccentric shinobi in his time, but that man was strange in his own unique way.

* * *

It was well into the evening by the time Namie returned home from the picnic outing, into the still, peaceful…uneventful…atmosphere that was no longer jumping with excitement and fun. "I'm home," she mumbled quietly out into the hallway, expecting to hear nothing but silence and an empty house. However, as she bent down to pull off her shoes (still sticky with watermelon guts), she noticed another pair had made its rare appearance beside Taji's spare set. Minato was home, she realized, even before he replied to her call.

"Welcome back."

"_Brother?_" She could barely remember the last time their schedules lined up so nicely that they were both home in time for dinner. Dinner that still consisted of her and Kushina's leftovers, which were finally down to a manageable level thanks to the picnic with Rin and Obito. Until the next lesson, anyway. The fridge would be full again for sure. "When did you get here?" She poked her head around the corner, glancing towards the kitchen to catch sight of her brother.

"Not long before you," Minato responded as he listened to Namie's shuffling footsteps, offering her a small smile over his shoulder as she reached the dining room table where he sat with a hot cup of tea clutched in his hands.

"Oh…did you come to pack for your next mission?"

"Not this time; I have a few days off, actually."

"Really?" her tone brightened. "It's about time!" She set her stack of empty lunch boxes on the counter and hurried to the fridge to grab a glass of juice before taking a seat across from Minato, grinning. "How many, exactly…?" Her smile faded slightly. Now that she looked closer, there was something tired about his appearance. Worn. Exhausted. It was easier to read him since she'd become a shinobi and learned how to sharpen her observational skills—even if they apparently weren't up to Hiroto's standards yet.

"Just three. Then I have another mission to take care of."

Namie paused, tapping her fingers against the glass. "Well, it's better than nothing."

"It is," he agreed.

It was a rare moment. She could barely remember the last time it was just her and Minato able to have a calm moment to themselves, to interact, either of her own avoidant making or without someone else present, too. Of course, it wasn't that she minded having more people around, especially when it was Taji or Kushina, but…she missed _Minato._

She missed her _brother. _

It briefly surfaced in her thoughts that they hadn't had a chance to talk, _really_ talk, about what happened a few months back. Kushina did mention he was worried… and when Namie glanced up at his face, noticing the uncertain, almost meek expression on his face as he sat across from her staring down into the steam of his tea cup, she knew that worry was still present. Naturally, he wouldn't be the one to bring the topic to light. The conversation was long overdue and it was up to her to start it, as she'd once promised.

But…that was the hard part.

Minato glanced over at his sister, preparing to explain the mission and grab her attention in order to initiate Hiroto's plan. "It isn't a difficult mission. Just a solo, C-rank document retrieval outside of the village. In fact, I'm a bit overqualified for it." Of course, he wasn't speaking dishonestly. Any decent chuunin could have replaced him.

Namie's ears perked at the mention of the ranking. The last C-rank—the _only_ C-rank—she'd ever been part of was with her entire team. Back when it was still whole. The fact that they'd only ever been able to participate in _one_ brought about a sense of vague melancholy, twinging somewhere deep in her heart. But she wouldn't let the sadness keep her down. It was just a passing sorrow.

Still—it was a low-ranked mission, for a jounin. Even _she_ could handle something like that with at least one other shinobi. She didn't bother keeping that thought quiet, either.

She raised an eyebrow. "Totally overqualified. Heck, _I_ could do that."

It was good to see her confidence returned. Then, it was time to ask. "Would you like to come along, Namie?"

"What? You mean—_could I_?" The handful of baby missions she'd been whittling away had gotten sour. Old. Super annoying. A better, more involved mission (especially one _outside of Konoha)_ was definitely what she needed. No—even if it was a simple D-rank, if Minato was the one asking, she wouldn't say no.

As expected, she didn't bother holding back. There was an excited gleam in her eyes—one that hadn't been present for quite some time. Maybe a little—just a little—that worry he'd been harboring faded. "Well, before I get your hopes up, it would be best to ask Hiroto-san first. Don't you meet with him tomorrow?"

Her mood dampened slightly at the mention of her teacher. "Yeah…you're right, Brother. I'll ask him, but," she paused, reviving her spirit and grinning, determined. "I definitely wanna go! Even if he says no, I really do!"

Minato smiled. Whatever test Hiroto had in mind with this situation, he was sure Namie would pass it.

* * *

"Not brooding after a loss? That's strange."

Namie glanced up from where she was organizing the remainder of her weapons and tools after the day's sparring match with Hiroto (where she had her ass handed to her, as usual) diminished them by half and the small smile playing at her lips vanished. As a team, it had been hard enough coming even close to taking him down, but on her own it was nigh impossible at this point. Still, fights were much preferred over the weekly genjutsu lessons that alternated with everything else. But that wasn't why she was in particularly high spirits that day—because of her steady progress and improvement, there was a chance she could accompany Minato on his mission later on in the week.

If her teacher allowed it, that is.

"Hiroto-sensei," she began, rolling up a storage scroll and setting it into one of the loops on her backpack before returning her attention to the man, weirdly feeling as if she were in a situation where she needed to ask her father for his permission before leaving home despite the age discrepancy. She intended to practice her words, her request, the night before, but ended up falling asleep before getting the chance. Still, she had a vague idea of what she wanted to say. "I've helped complete a lot of D-rank missions so far—an even twenty. Plus one C-rank. Four of those were on my own, even. I think I can handle something a little more challenging, and my brother is taking on a C-rank mission soon, so…can I go along?"

He'd been waiting for the subject to come up. "A C-rank? What kind?"

"Information collection from whoever's stationed at the outpost near Hot Water's border." Her reply was direct.

"Who else is going?"

Of course, Namie knew he wouldn't just answer the question without digging for the bigger picture. Even if she were to go and accompany someone else, ultimately, he was the authority figure responsible for her as a genin.

"Just Minato and me. He's a jounin, you know, so there's no problem, right?"

Hiroto watched girl carefully as he rested one hand on his hip. "I'm aware. It's not_ that_ I'm wondering about." He fixed her with a steady gaze, ready to gauge her response. "Are you sure you're at a point where you won't be a burden?"

The words stung, like a slap to the face. Made her rethink her decision to ask and, ultimately, snuffed out all of the excitement she'd worked up. It was just like him to force her to face reality when she was on cloud nine.

Namie jumped to her feet instantly, confrontational.

"I _am_. My strength is back up and everything's been going fine, right? Genjutsu aside. But I've even figured out how to set up wire traps by myself." That was a particular accomplishment she was proud of, considering they'd been done with a team before. And it was definitely a selling point.

"Genjutsu aside," he agreed, a note of amusement in his response. She was fully convinced, without a doubt, that she could handle it. That was exactly what he anticipated. However, if she hesitated, he would have refused her the opportunity. But her words proved it. She was back to one-hundred percent; it was a final test of her current condition that she'd passed with flying colors. "Then, if you think you're prepared, I'll allow it."

Namie's former happiness returned. "Really?"

Hiroto nodded. "It just so happens that I've been drafted for a crucial mission that starts tomorrow, so this works out timewise."

"Crucial mission?" Namie echoed, eyebrows drawing together. That could have meant a number of things, since important missions ranked A and S (_especially_ not S) weren't often disclosed to anyone besides the shinobi involved, but she did briefly wonder if it was a prelude to the beginning of the looming war. Or worse, Sakumo's failure, which she suspected had a hand in bringing about the third war, too. The thought that such an event was closing in caused her chest to constrict.

But only for a moment. It was paranoia, surely. The war should still be a ways off.

There was still _time._

"How long will you be gone?"

"I can't say for sure. It could be anywhere from a week to a month."

"A _month?_" Her jaw nearly dropped. "What about training? We've barely even been—"

Hiroto interrupted before she could raise her voice. "You can handle things on your own for a while, Namie. Follow the same schedule—or do more, if you'd like. If you need sparring partners, talk with Yuuhi Shinku. He's overseeing a team made up of your former classmates. He'd be the best to go to for genjutsu training, too."

Yuuhi Shinku—most likely the "Shinku-sensei" Toboe mentioned.

"Or, of course, there's always Inori." There was an irritating air in his voice and she didn't even need to look to know he was smirking.

"_No thanks_."

She really hated Hiroto, sometimes. He always had everything so worked out even when her own plans were out of whack. There was no use arguing with him though, since it was out of either of their hands. In exchange for Hiroto's absence, however, she'd been given permission to accompany Minato on a mission for the first time. It wasn't something to complain about; it was a privilege.

Right. It was a _good_ thing. Maybe, just maybe, it was the payoff of her hard work.

The top of the hill.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so this was a preeetty big and busy chapter with lots of stuff going on. Like, really busy, but what the hell, things had to happen. Hope it was entertaining nonetheless! Starting next chapter, things won't be so slow anymore. I have many plans. Oh, yes, _many. _BUT those plans will take a while to execute properly while I fight off the last dregs of writer's block—and I want to get ahead in my writing again (and catch up on reading, too) so I'm going to take an extended spring break until...early May? Hopefully by my return I'll have a consistent update schedule again.

I've received another suuuper lovely fanart of Namie by** KonekoNoRenkinjutsushi** so please head on over to her profile page or mine for the link to check out that great piece!

Many thanks for all reads/faves/follows and to these amazing reviewers**: skidney, Tamani, EdenMae, 10****th**** Squad 3****rd**** Seat, Lynn06, tokibun, Rigoudon3, Counting Sinful Stars, Marsha (Guest), coronadomontes, Caeleste, Ensavondel, AyumiUK, trixms, littlemelonatplay, Abundant E, **and** 125b.**


	32. Twenty-eight

**Chapter Twenty-eight: Action and Reaction, Breakthrough**

* * *

The last time Hiroto had been assigned an A-ranked, high-priority mission, he'd been part of ANBU. Those were the days he'd proudly worn his mask; the days he was little more than an anonymous, monkey-faced assassin hiding in the shadows, largely working as an autonomous unit even when acting as a squad captain.

Those were the days he wasn't tasked with being a teacher, a responsible guide, to a group of young, inexperienced (and at times reckless) genin.

In a way, those had been simpler times—of course, it depended on the perspective.

The loss was equivalent on both sides, and the pain never quite faded…only became a dull echo in the back of his mind, never fully disappearing but also never again rearing up and biting into his thoughts to drag him back into grief. It became a mere afterthought. A fact of life. Never something that was easy to deal with, but something that became so routine that it had to be handled regardless or it would end up destroying whatever inklings of humanity and compassion that still lingered.

This was the first mission he'd been allowed since his student's death.

Initially, when Team One disbanded and he was placed on standby, he intended to return to his former career—something he was familiar with. Something he wouldn't fail so spectacularly with, because this was the_ second_ time he'd been unable to protect someone he _should_ have thanks to an error in judgment.

However, no matter what he wanted, Hiruzen refused it. His team hadn't been completely scattered, after all—as long as one remained, as long as one expressed the desire to continue being a part of that team, he was obligated to remain her instructor. That, and…

"_Running away solves nothing, no matter how glamorous an option it seems. Allowing it once was my mistake, but choosing it twice will be yours."_

The words were heavy. Brimming with dormant disapproval—and even as an adult man, he still couldn't bear to disappoint his father. No, even if he _hadn't_ been his father…he couldn't disappoint his village's Hokage. He couldn't run and bury himself away in ANBU as an ostrich sticks its head in the sand, too reluctant to face and deal with reality. Not again.

Instead, Hiruzen ordered him to take leave—a mandatory mourning period of one month at minimum. His own return to active duty was contingent upon the status of his remaining students and their respective wishes. If Namikaze Namie had chosen to study under her brother's guidance as Hatake Kakashi had decided to continue training with his father, Hiroto would have been assigned to a new team of freshly-graduated genin when they became available. At that point, the path to ANBU was closed. Not forever, he knew, but for the time being. Perhaps after half a year, a year, it would have been a different matter.

This was the first mission he'd been assigned where he was acting as a jōnin, unmasked and without a group of lively, bickering students in tow.

"Yo, long time no see."

A dark-haired, sharp-eyed man sporting a friendly grin approached Hiroto as he loitered in the hallway that led to the Hokage's office, awaiting the two remaining members of the team, including the team captain, before they would speak with their village leader and receive the mission brief.

This recent arrival was not the jōnin that would lead the team, he knew—he recognized the man from his days in ANBU. If he recalled, he was only a few years older than himself. But…his name slipped his mind. Rather, it wasn't something he'd ever concerned himself with. Not beyond codenames, at least, and masks were the only identifiers he needed back then. This man had worn a boar-like mask when he'd known him. His strong jawline, heavy with whiskers, was even reminiscent of one.

"It's been a while." He returned the greeting in kind. The man was one of Inori's acquaintances, as well—a former drinking buddy. Still, the name evaded him. It wasn't until the familiar, cloying scent of cigarette smoke passed him by that it struck him: Mimura Hamaki. As his namesake, he entertained the notion of chain smoking, often carrying the smell when he had no need to conceal it for missions. Before the two could engage in any more small talk, however, the final member of their group arrived.

"It's an early morning, isn't it? Hiroto. Hamaki." As he approached, Hatake Sakumo regarded the two fellow jōnin with a mild smile—though the gentle, comfortable expression didn't undermine the inherent air of authority and leadership surrounding the man.

There was no doubt that he was the captain assigned to their unit.

"Ah, Sakumo! This is a surprise. Last I heard, you were staying to help with the chūnin exams," Hamaki mused, stroking his chin in thought as he regarded the white-haired man.

Hiroto had forgotten, but his bearded comrade could be quite the talker during downtime and the lulls between active missions (even now, at the crack of dawn when the birds had just barely begun to chirp). _Much_ like Inori. He, on the other hand, remained silent and only nodded to acknowledge the man. There was no awkwardness in the action despite the fact that he was the father of one of his former students—and said student's current mentor—though the thought that he was also leaving a student behind for the sake of this mission briefly crossed his mind.

He wasn't entirely acquainted with the White Fang—had only interacted with him once during a past mission. Though before, during the Second War, he'd caught flashes of him on the battlefield several times. Then, during those years of his youth which seemed so short-lived in the face of conflict, he wouldn't have denied that he revered the man, as all young boys would towards a successful, heroic man who had earned a name for himself in battle. However, through the years, his naïve view changed. And in this new perspective he viewed the man as an equal—if not an accomplished one.

"Originally yes, but the mission roster was changed at the last moment. In fact, I'm afraid I know as much as the two of you at the moment." Sakumo shrugged his shoulders minutely, casually, as he let his gaze pass over the two, eyes lingering on Hiroto a fraction of a second longer as he pondered the silence. Of course there were no ill feelings or tensions between him and this man—if there _were_ any existing troubles, they wouldn't have been placed on the same team. Not for a mission of such importance, no matter how obscure it currently was.

He did have his suspicions about what it entailed, however. And…in fact, he wasn't entirely speaking the truth when he said he knew as much as his colleagues—he was also aware that _Hiroto_ had been intended as the team leader before he'd been assigned that role.

"Seeing as we're all present, why don't we go and find out?" He approached the door and knocked.

* * *

Hiruzen didn't typically request to meet with his teams when the sun was scarcely rising up above the horizon—even more so, he hadn't pulled an all-nighter for at least the past four years.

His spine gave off an unpleasant series of cracks as he straightened his back to sit properly in his desk chair upon noticing he'd been slumping as he pored over the half-unrolled scroll on his desk—a poor posture for one his age, an age he began to actually _feel_ as it crept up on him.

Just what happened to the days when he'd been well and capable of running around with a team of young genin? Well, he wasn't _old_ yet, not even fifty—but it was close. Painfully close. Perhaps a change in career was in order… Retirement, even. But that may have been the sleep deprivation encouraging the thought.

At the very least, the layout of his office was due in for a change. A traditional, cozy room without a stuffy, clerical desk and high-backed chair and instead several cushions, perhaps, like a smoking room… It was a nice thought. He made a mental note to discuss that with his assistant before returning his attention to the scroll.

The black ink had long since dried.

In fact, it had been written one day before, though the process that led to that had taken well over two weeks (sans the council meetings, politics and inter-country communication that resulted in its creation, which hurt just to think about). Three days it was overlooked and haggled over by Homura for errors and inconsistencies and for three more days the document was subject to amendments courtesy Danzo and Koharu. Most of which were countered. After a single week the matter looked to be settled, though there was a glaringly embarrassing misspelling that rendered it entirely null. It was minor, but still. Couldn't have the other country leaders thinking they were illiterate idiots incapable of handling paperwork.

It took yet another day to replicate and rewrite it properly. But the nightmare didn't end there. Initially, the classified document was to be delivered by a single messenger, directly to its designated location. However, it was requested by the country it was intended for that a meeting between delegates was desired in order to expedite discussion over the matter. Again, the scroll was revised to include this, and…finally, here it was, in his hands—the finished product.

He'd been scanning its contents for the better part of seven hours just to be sure, _absolutely sure_, it was presentable. But he'd taken care of that task off and on while writing up the mission brief and gathering materials and various other duties relevant to the delivery of the document as well.

…If it didn't concern such a sensitive, significant matter, he would have left all of the white collar pedantry to an assistant.

But, would-haves and wants aside, everything was in order at long last.

With a weary sigh, Hiruzen rolled up the scroll and placed it carefully within a seal-proofed container before setting it at the far edge of his desk, glad to be at the end of the matter.

Just then, and with perfect timing, a knock echoed through the room.

The elder Sarutobi took a moment to run his hand over bleary eyes before straightening his back once again and reaching for his pipe, wondering when he'd last lit it and marveling over the fact that it was still smoldering. He took a deep, quiet breath, reveling in the calm, before letting the smoke unfurl from his lips. "Come in." His tone was firm—there was no longer a trace of exhaustion.

Hatake Sakumo, Mimura Hamaki and Sarutobi Hiroto filed into the room quietly before standing in front of his desk at attention, prepared to hear the mission rundown.

Yes—as soon as he laid eyes upon the trio of jōnin, he was certain the decision to shift the mission assignment had been the correct one, no matter how impromptu. They were all skilled men—and even more so with the White Fang's skills and reputation there to bolster them.

He would make this as quick as possible so they could all go about their business.

"I'd like to apologize for the abruptness of this assignment as well as the belated detailing. However, I have no doubt that you are all well capable of adjusting to these circumstances. That is…" He paused to push a stack of files across the top of his desk, towards Sakumo, and waited until the three packets were distributed to the trio before continuing. "The three of you are henceforth tasked as delegates who will deliver a proposal concerning sensitive terms currently set in place between Konohagakure and Iwagakure."

The three men scanned the information packets and background information involved, absorbing the data quickly and burning each page into their minds since the documents would not leave the room.

Listed in the pages were names and descriptions of the three men who would be meeting them in Kusagakure—the rendezvous point. Neither party would enter the others' respective countries, and would instead exchange the document with the Iwa representatives on neutral grounds and await the Tsuchikage's confirmation and acceptance of the terms. There were to be no negotiations over what was already stated and obtaining agreement was imperative.

"Your team, Sakumo, will head this mission. However, I will be sending five more four-man groups composed of a medic, chūnin and special jōnin to shadow you and otherwise remain on standby, should the situation…turn."

There were non-aggression treaties in place between the countries—as there always were, after war time—though it was common knowledge that such things were brittle, essentially meaningless, fronts that weakened considerably as each year passed. They were always watching and waiting, waiting, with eyes wide and unblinking, like predators ready to strike as soon as a moment of weakness arose. Skirmishes still broke out from time to time but were mostly contained before they escalated.

Even so, there was a high chance this would become one of them and it was a tactical precaution to go into it prepared.

These were the three strongest jōnin he could afford to send while still keeping enough present to handle the upcoming chūnin exam—the three he believed were appropriately capable of containing said situation, should the need arise. It was just shy of a certainty that it would. But, for the sake of clarifying new and reinforcing old terms between the two countries…

"Let's hope it won't come to that. Are there any questions?" Hiruzen asked.

The three men remained silent.

The Hokage nodded in acknowledgement and finally gestured to the scroll container, which Sakumo picked up and placed in a secure pocket of his jōnin vest.

"Then, the mission begins now."

* * *

Two days after Hiroto's departure, Namie and Minato prepared to venture forth on their own mission.

"I _really_ wish I could stay longer and give you both a proper goodbye, but I'm already running late, 'ttebane!" Kushina cried out as she came running to met the two blondes at the gate to see them off, pausing just long enough to hand over a picnic basket filled with at least an entire days' worth of food and to throw her arms around Minato in a quick bear-like embrace.

Namie caught sight of a faint blush on her brother's surprised face, and she would have given a sly laugh if not for the fact that the redhead then bent down to capture her in a vice grip of a hug as well. It nearly choked the breath out of her even if it only lasted a second—she couldn't have laughed even if she _wanted _to. In fact, if the older girl squeezed just a _fraction_ tighter, she was sure she would have been too internally damaged to undertake a mission for an entire week.

A bright, Uzumaki-trademark grin crossed Kushina's face as she raised a hand in farewell and then turned on her heel to rush away again, muttering something about how Koemi-sensei would probably kill her for being late. A few moments later, the tail of her long, bright hair disappeared around a corner and she was out of sight as if she'd never even been there.

It felt like a hit-and-run.

The only evidence the two siblings had that the redheaded whirlwind had really even been there was the picnic basket sitting at their feet. Plus the slightly aching bones left from the girl's crushing show of affection.

"That Kushina-nee…" Namie sighed as she bent down to pick up the picnic basket—the _heavy_ picnic basket. There was no easy way to carry something like that, especially during travel. Instead, she reached into her backpack for an empty storage scroll and sealed it away effortlessly. That done, she glanced up at Minato, but paused.

There was still a hint of pink on his face and she couldn't help but flash a teasing grin even if he wasn't looking at her to see it, as his gaze was set in Kushina's direction. It didn't take a genius to realize he was crazy about her, even if he was still flustered by her enthusiastic display of love.

They were both such polar opposites that they balanced each other perfectly. It was…charming.

"…I'll miss her while we're gone," the blonde spoke fondly under her breath.

Minato glanced sharply down at Namie as he snapped out of the daze he'd been in and offered a sheepish smile. "I will, too. But we won't be away for long. Four days at most. Three, if we're lucky." Any trip from Konoha to any one of its borders tended to involve much travel even if the mission in question was quick and easy.

It was better to leave without delay since the trip was long.

"Well then, we should get going," he continued, adjusting the heavy traveling bag on his back. "Are you ready, Namie?"

The smaller blonde glanced out past the village's gates and into the expanse of still forest beyond it. The last time she'd been outside of Konoha—well, she didn't want to let that occupy her thoughts right now. All she could do was make the best of her current objective. "I'm ready. Let's go, Brother."

* * *

If there was one thing Namie had learned during the travel periods involved in missions away from home, it was that there were two kinds of people: chatterboxes and tight-lipped types. The former always had something to say to break the silence and entertain while the latter kept to themselves no matter how awkward or uncomfortable the atmosphere became.

Of course, neither her nor Minato fell under the chatterbox category, so after they ran out of trivial topics to discuss (which happened soon, an hour into their journey), they traveled in silence.

Namie was used to it. Hiroto was far from the talkative type, and Kakashi had been the same: both cool and taciturn. Unless they were arguing. Kasuga—she tried not to let her thoughts wander there, but it couldn't be stopped, and it didn't hurt so much, not anymore—had spoken when she'd given him something to respond to, and occasionally sparked small talk on his own. He became surprisingly chatty when he grew accustomed to the team. Any conversations that arose then, no matter how silly or serious, were appreciated. Cherished memories.

But this silence was different—weighed down by something unspoken that the blonde was certain she could pinpoint.

Minato was still concerned about her.

Not to a point where it distracted him, but she didn't miss the worry in his eyes from the surreptitious glances he shot her way when he thought she wasn't looking. Maybe it had been that way all day—she wasn't sure. Now that Kushina wasn't there to distract her, she became hyper-aware of her brother's reluctant behavior. But…she didn't want to address it. Not yet.

But she could only ignore it in favor of the redundant scenery for so long. Tree, tree, tree, weird-looking tree, grass—dirt—rock. Yeah. It wasn't working.

"I've been working with genjutsu lately," Namie began, mentioning the first thing that came to mind that hadn't already been said as she spun around to walk backwards, facing her brother while speaking. She didn't notice when exactly she'd gotten ahead of him, but he was only a few short paces behind, studying their route map.

The Land of Hot Water was pretty much a straight shot from Konoha, and since the mission wasn't confidential, they were able to stick to the main roads without altering their itinerary. The shinobi outpost they were headed for wasn't in such an open location and eventually they would have to veer off into obscure land to reach it. But that was still a day or so away.

"Well, learning to resist it, anyway. I don't think I actually want to learn how to cast them," she explained.

"Genjutsu? I didn't start learning it until I became a chūnin. Mostly though, that's the Uchiha clan's area of expertise, so it's not common for others in Konoha to pursue it past the basics." Minato offered his input easily and without hesitation, much to Namie's relief, as he lowered the map and began to fold it to give her his complete attention. "How do you like it so far?"

His words were kind, and there was genuine interest behind them. It had been a long while since the last time they'd discussed training and shinobi-related things, but she was glad for it. Mostly, though, she was glad for the fact that this conversation distracted Minato from his worries. There was a distance between them because of that and her unwillingness to acknowledge it.

Even if she knew it would need to be dealt with soon—she'd promised him that much. For now, she was only biding her time, waiting for the right moment for such a discussion to take place.

"I _don't_. I'm still trying to work out how to notice when I'm caught in one and..." She frowned, tone going flat. "Hiroto-sensei's relentless with it. Did you know he threatened me with two weeks of straight genjutsu lessons if I slack off while he's gone? As if I would!" The frown turned into a pout complete with puffed-out cheeks—a silly, exaggeratedly bitter expression. "And he doesn't make idle threats."

Minato smiled a little as he wondered just what it was like, being at odds with a teacher. Jiraiya was chummy and easy to get along with, even with his lecherous nature that the blond—and most people, but particularly women—couldn't fully agree with, but there were plenty of good memories there—the man was one of the people he was closest with outside of his family (and that did include Kushina). To that end, he couldn't recall a time he'd ever felt resentment or irritation towards his former instructor. Exhaustion, certainly, but there wasn't a trace of antagonism there.

But people were different, he knew, and he'd experienced that firsthand through his recent, chance meeting with Sarutobi Hiroto. He didn't uphold an easygoing, jokester front—he was serious, cool and taciturn. A little strange; the type who always had method to their madness. Just from that minor interaction with the man, along with Namie's personality type, he could understand her frustrations with him.

And despite the way his sister spoke, nearly on the verge of bad-mouthing her superior, he could tell she didn't mean it. She'd decided to remain on his team, after all. If_ that_ wasn't a testament towards her trust and respect of the man, he wasn't sure what was. On that note, he was relieved she didn't choose to transfer under _his_ mentorship when the option was made available. It wasn't that he thought he couldn't handle a student, or that he wasn't skilled enough to teach, but… it was difficult position to be in. Inter-family instruction just wasn't for everyone. Whatever the case, he knew she was happy with her choice because of how animatedly she outlined her lessons.

It was a welcome sight, to see Namie back in such a state. He and Kushina—and everybody that knew her, really—had worried for her, during the past few months. At one point, it had become uncertain whether she would ever return to her former self.

She'd been kidnapped, after all.

_Kidnapped._

He'd sworn to himself that he would never let such an event come to pass regarding someone he cared for, yet he'd been away, unable to stop it. There was no reason or logic in blaming himself since it was out of his hands at the time, but the inability to do anything always unsettled him. Of course, Namie didn't blame him, either—but she also neglected to seek him for guidance and to open up over the incident.

Not only that, but she'd lost a close teammate on top of everything else. And directly witnessed it.

Such a tragedy wasn't easy to come back from. Back then, there were days she couldn't bear to see anyone else and isolated herself, and then when she'd returned home after being discharged from the hospital, there were days where she was _with_ them, but not…with them. When she was distant, and sad, and… it hurt to think about it. Because she'd suffered, and he couldn't do anything to help ease that pain.

Still, in the end, she'd been able to overcome the trauma. That in itself was a blessing, that she was able to recuperate and return to the world as normal as ever.

Now, here she was, back in active duty and engaged in a mission, pulling her own weight.

He still wasn't quite sure how she was doing, because the smiles she showed sometimes seemed false, like they were just covering something up. He _wanted_ to ask—even if he'd usually left her to her own devices, to come and speak to him when she felt it necessary. Even if it was invasive. But—given that the situation was so painful, didn't he have a right to worry over his little sister's well-being? She'd already been through more than any child should ever have had to deal with, career path aside. He did want to ask, to find out, and to hear it from her own mouth that she was alright, or if she _wasn't_ alright, and the question was on the tip of his tongue—

Namie slowed her pace when Minato didn't respond, and her eyebrows drew together as she caught sight of his distant, far-away expression.

"It's a good thing you aren't the type to slack off, then," he finally replied, calm expression returning—the look from only a moment before could have been a mirage for as quickly as it came and went.

But, and she wasn't completely sure of it, it seemed as if he'd intended to say something different than what he did. Something related to his current worry, obviously.

Maybe there _wasn't_ a right place or right time to breach difficult subjects. The more she procrastinated, the worse it became, she knew—rather, it was better to just get it over with, for the peace of mind of everyone involved.

She stopped walking without realizing it as she stared at her brother, and he slowly came to a halt as well.

"Um—" she faltered. Wasn't quite sure how to begin. "You know, Kushina-nee mentioned…she mentioned you've been worrying about me lately, because of—" The reason didn't need to be stated aloud. "She was, too, but we already talked things over, and…well…"

What could she possibly say?

Namie took a long moment to gather her thoughts. Mulled over her feelings. Thanks to Hiroto, thanks to Kushina, it wasn't as difficult as it would have been a few months before. All she had to do was speak honestly, from her heart, and before she knew it, the words rose up and flowed out.

"Sometimes, when I just wake up, I think that things are still the way they used to be. That I'll be training with Kasuga and Kakashi again, together with Hiroto-sensei. But then I remember. There's no team anymore, and things are different now." Her eyes briefly strayed away from his, headed towards the ground at her feet, before she abruptly snapped her gaze back up, fiercer and more determined than before. "But it's not a _bad _different. And with each day that passes, I get used to it a little more. It's manageable. Things are okay. They're okay, now."

There was a serious conviction to her tone that he couldn't doubt.

It wasn't a lie. Nothing was being concealed, hidden away, ignored—she was speaking honestly and clearly.

"And I'm happy you're so concerned, Brother, but you don't have to be. I'm…fine." The word shocked her, even though she'd spoken it so many times to so many others before. "I _am_ fine," she repeated, eyes going wide. Now—no matter how many times she'd said it before—it really was the truth. The solemn smile that crossed her lips due to the realization supported her words.

It took a few moments, in which the two siblings simply stared at each other—one doing her best to convey her honest feelings, and the other doing his best to believe it.

And he did.

Really, he'd worried for nothing. His sister was strong, both physically and mentally—perhaps he'd underestimated her ability to persevere. Still, he was relieved. So,_ so_ relieved that she'd overcome so much and continued to push forward. That she was no longer suffering quietly and holding it all in. And…he was happy she'd opened her heart to him; confided her feelings.

At long last, Minato replied. "…I'm glad to hear that, Namie. Really." He reached out and set his hand on her head, ruffling her hair affectionately, and through that action alone, an understanding was made.

The invisible heaviness that weighed down on them vanished.

* * *

This was the third day of near-nonstop travel for Sakumo's group.

They'd already passed into a new country and would soon arrive in Kusagakure to meet with the Iwa delegates—though that meeting was scheduled for the morning of the next day. Because they were ahead of schedule, they slowed their pace and took a much-needed break.

"_Whew_, I'm bushed!" Hamaki exclaimed as he dropped down onto a tree stump, not caring that it was away from shade of the bamboo forest and beneath the direct heat of sunlight instead. He rummaged through his traveling bag before withdrawing a canteen of water and taking a large gulp.

"It's been a long trip. We'll stop at an inn soon and get a good night's rest for tomorrow." Sakumo stood beside the bearded man, focusing his gaze across the plains ahead of them, eyes narrowed faintly. "We'll need it."

Hiroto set his backpack beside Hamaki's tree stump but remained standing as well, even when the pull of exhaustion nagged at him to sit. They hadn't rested since the night before the mission began, and relied on soldier pills to keep up their energy during the journey. Not much had been said concerning the mission in that timespan, but as they neared their destination, it became apparent there was worry. Anytime the major villages were involved, it was only natural.

"How high is the chance Iwagakure will try something?" he asked.

"Probably one-hundred percent," Hamaki grumbled, leering at the ground. He removed the bandana that sported his forehead protector and dampened it with water before returning it to his skull. "I wouldn't say they're the worst, but they're some of the most underhanded shinobi I've ever met."

Sakumo nodded. "It's as Hamaki says, more or less. I'm convinced this 'meeting' is just a façade for an attack."

"The non-aggression pacts between countries are still in effect—if they attack us, they're well aware of the consequences," Hiroto replied. "It would be foolish to spark something like that now."

So he said, but they were all aware it was a latent opportunity for Iwagakure. Konoha, among the others involved in the previous war, were still recovering. As for Iwa, it wouldn't be difficult to imagine they were attempting to revive conflict because their forces were gaining power once again and they believed it put them at an advantage.

"I think it's more likely this is tied to another matter between our countries that occurred only recently—Hiroto, it's the kidnapping incident that your team was involved in," the white-haired man explained.

Hamaki let his gaze wander between the two men as they spoke, and he shook his canteen, noting it was empty. There was a river nearby—he rose to his feet and made his way towards it. It was more of an excuse to leave the two to talk, because it wasn't hard to pick up on the seriousness of the subject, which he wasn't involved in. If anything of importance arose during the conversation, he knew they would give him the details when they were done with their business.

Hiroto's thoughts wandered to Namie. To Kasuga. To Kakashi. To that gruesome night Sakumo spoke of—and he dearly wished he hadn't. It was true that Iwagakure hadn't been pleased to discover their missing-nin were involved in the matter, and in hindsight he should have made the potential connection between this mission and that incident before the team leader mentioned it. He had to wonder if he'd let his skills become dull since he'd left the field and become a mentor. Or if he'd intentionally ignored the possibility.

"It sounds like you know more about this mission than what the brief provided, Sakumo."

"This is only conjecture," Sakumo ceded, crossing his arms. "But it does seem like an opportune situation for someone who felt wronged to strike back, doesn't it?"

Hiroto frowned. Thought back to that incident again, reviewed his actions, the death count, everything—he'd killed two of the missing-nin from Iwagakure then. Namie and Kakashi killed one each and the remaining nin had been taken into custody for interrogation. He hadn't done anything to specifically gain attention from another country—his, and his students', actions aligned with the international shinobi laws set into place.

But…it could have been that the origin of this problem rested within those laws.

Hiroto closed his eyes and exhaled quietly, running a hand through his hair. "If that_ is_ the case, my presence here puts the entire operation in jeopardy." He should have been removed from the mission from the start—couldn't imagine what the Hokage was thinking, if it was pure confidence or lack of concern, sending him along and potentially letting them play right into Iwa's hands.

It was stupid. Risky. But, in accordance with their village namesake, shinobi from Iwagakure could be dumb as rocks at times. The fact that the Tsuchikage potentially gave his support to such a thing, however, indicated that the entire country was belligerent and likely using this situation for its own ends. It was starting to seem that Sakumo's conjecture was closer to an impending possibility.

"Or it could be they don't care who they strike down so long as our side loses something." Sakumo let his gaze wander across the plains, thinking. Planning. "I suppose we'll find out if that's their aim when we meet them. But the delivery of this document_ is_ genuine. It contains terms that are in dire need of reinforcement. Our objective is to obtain what we want while doing our best to prevent an outbreak. If an attack is made, then…appropriate measures will be taken against the side that acts."

It was a promise of bloodshed. Threats against shinobi of Konoha were not taken lightly.

* * *

The land Kusagakure was founded in was a neutral territory between the greater countries of Earth and Fire—however, ownership over the land had switched between the two several times in the past before its own small, independent country had been formed a few years after the end of the First War. Even then, its forces and alliances were small and weak compared to Iwa or Konoha and it had been subjected to infighting as well as external conflict revolving around the larger nations during the Second War.

Near the middle of said war, in order to preserve its own well-being, the small country had reached the decision to become neutral ground through treaties with both Iwa and Konoha, which diverted the fighting to the other small countries that surrounded it and finally left their own to peace.

The entire land, particularly Kusagakure, was still recovering from the damage and, because of that, even if the village were acting as a diplomatic bridge between the two powerful villages, the general attitudes foreign visitors received from those who lived in Kusagakure were far from kind.

Sakumo and his team found themselves placed in the smallest, shabbiest rooms of an otherwise cozy-looking inn, at five times the price of what a non-shinobi would have paid. But it wasn't as if they were expecting a cordial welcome. Even so, they'd managed to get a decent night's rest and rose early to meet with Kusa's interim leader—a bald, stodgy, no-nonsense shinobi—who would direct them to the exchange point where the Iwagakure delegates were to meet them.

The serious man led them through a dense forest and stopped at its outskirts, a point that was just shy of the actual destination. "The shinobi from Iwagakure are to arrive shortly, and will be meeting with you at the old mill located two kilometers northwest of here, at the end of this grass plain," he informed gruffly. "Kusagakure will not remain to mediate this matter. Whatever transpires during this exchange solely involves the two of you. I only ask that you do not damage villages or properties, should conflict arise."

His words were harsh. Not even he was convinced this mission would pan out properly, and he was ultimately saying Konoha would receive no support even if they were the ones to be attacked. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

"Providing your lands as a meeting ground is already more than we could ask for. We're grateful." Sakumo offered the polite return, but the leader and his two guides refused to respond and had already set off through the forest once again, towards their village.

After a moment, Sakumo sighed and turned to regard Hiroto and Hamaki. "Whatever happens, keep up your guards. A sensor in our backup unit informed me earlier that there are four chakra signals ahead instead of just three. It seems Iwa is already waiting."

"Tsh," Hamaki spat. "How like them." He set his hand on the katana at his hip and scowled out across the plain, straining to see the meeting place in the distance.

The two teammates had fully armed themselves when their leader donned the white chakra sabre that originated his namesake before they'd left the inn—he hadn't worn it during the entirety of their travels.

It was no longer just a precaution.

"Whatever they're planning, it'll be direct." Hiroto also glanced out across the distance, scanning the area for abnormalities.

"If it's as Sakumo says, they'll be going right for you the first chance they get," Hamaki grumbled. "Those Iwa bastards—"

The white-haired man interrupted before his teammate broke out into a rant. "Actually, I have a proposal to make concerning that. To confirm if that really is their objective. Hiroto, Hamaki, will you hear me out…?"

* * *

"I just can't get used to sleeping outside," Namie complained as she rolled up her sleeping bag with some difficulty before cramming it into the straps that secured it atop her backpack. Camping was dirty. It smelled. And there were _bugs. _She flicked a stink-bug looking thing off of her shirt with a glare before straightening her forehead protector and making double-sure the knot was tight.

Even though they were traveling along main roads, there were no inns to accommodate them. But the weather was clear, if not humid, and camping was just as efficient. Annoying, but efficient.

She set about disarming up the wire-trap security perimeter she'd strung along their small campground the night before while Minato consulted the map, sitting calmly with a thermos of tea from the picnic basket Kushina provided.

"It isn't that bad," he replied with a wry smile. Even though there were leaves in his hair. "And at this rate, we only have one more night of it on the way back."

He was incredibly positive and upbeat about it—but that was a good thing. There were no longer tensions and worry present between them. It was…normal. Like it should be.

"Great." Namie scoffed as she paused in the act of coiling up a string of wire and reached out to brush the stray foliage out of her brother's spiky hair with her free hand. "How much farther is the outpost?"

Minato ran a hand through his hair idly to make sure there were no remaining leaves. "It's still a few hours away since we'll have to take the backroads from here on." He looked up, expression serious. "There's a chance we'll encounter danger along the way because of it."

Relations with the Land of Hot Water were shaky because of their questionably peaceful political views that had been developed since the Second War's end, in accordance with Yugakure—it was known among some underground circles that they didn't report foreign criminals back to their proper countries and gave reprieve as long as the fugitives remained peaceful; those who knew it found refuge there, since cross-country searches were prohibited.

Said criminals also utilized the back roads to remain out of sight on their way to freedom.

Namie packed away the wire and shrugged. "I'd hardly consider bandits to be a danger when we're both there to fight, Brother."

"Namie…that's a little arrogant." He watched her carefully as she packed away her supplies. She'd always been confident—even over-confident at times—and it wasn't a bad thing in itself, unless she relied on that confidence to a point where it blinded her. At times like this, he wasn't afraid to speak bluntly.

She quickly looked up, catching his dubious stare, and shook her head. "I don't mean I won't be careful or anything. But…really, I think they'd be stupid to mess with us while they're trying to escape to Yugakure. It would just jeopardize their chances."

"True. But not all bandits see it that way. If they can rob someone along the way, they'd be more than happy to do so. And missing-nin always seem to be looking for a fight."

"…Maybe I was being a little arrogant. I'll keep up my guard either way." She hefted her backpack up onto her shoulders and glanced ahead into the forest. Between the gaps in branches and leaves, craggy mountains could be seen. If she wasn't mistaken, the outpost was carved into a mountainside, hidden out of sight, some four or five kilometers away from Hot Water's border.

It was close.

* * *

Sure enough, four shinobi from Iwagakure awaited the team as they approached the run-down mill and stopped with a good few meters between them, close enough to hear each other but far enough out of immediate striking distance.

"This is a surprise. As far as I was aware, there were to be three shinobi from each village present for this exchange." Sakumo was the first to speak. Of all of the things that encompassed this mission, the fact that Iwa wasn't playing by the rules immediately clued the team in that they had something up their sleeve.

The leader of the other group, a suave-looking man with a calm, sly grin and fox-like eyes—listed under the name Okubo from the files—raised a hand and waved it dismissively. "Pay no mind to it…Sakumo-san, was it?" His grin waned slightly. "If we're going to nitpick the details, wouldn't you say it was overkill to send one as infamous as _Konoha's White Fang_ for a trivial matter like this?"

The atmosphere was already taut with tension before the man spoke, but his words only served to put them further on edge.

Sakumo, however, only smiled, ignoring the dark-haired man's mocking words. "Perhaps." He extracted the sealed scroll from his backpack and held it out towards the man. "We'll put that aside for now and move on to business."

Hiroto scrutinized the four men from his place at Sakumo's side, watching for any signs of suspicious movement. As far as location went, neither was positioned at a particular disadvantage—there was a wide, shallow river behind the Iwa group with rocky land beyond it. Aside from that, stretching on for miles was flat grass plain, and behind their own group was the forest. Much of the area was open ground. If Iwa had brought reinforcements along as well, they would be situated just as far away from their current location as the Konoha shinobi waiting on standby at the forest's border.

Only three of the men were familiar. The other two aside from the captain had been mentioned in the mission documents. The remaining shinobi was unknown. He expected at least to see the missing-nin that had come out of the incident alive—as the fourth person present, he suspected—yet none of them were faces he'd seen before.

Of course, some could be using a transformation to hide their true appearance. It was a wise move.

"Right, about that," Okubo hummed, pulling out a scroll of his own from a pocket in his tan flak jacket. "Our Tsuchikage has written up a list of terms as well. We're to sit down over a nice cup of tea and look over the documents, resolve differences, then take back the newly drawn deal to our respective leaders for consideration."

"Negotiations are not part of this exchange, to my understanding."

The Iwa leader frowned and the hand holding the scroll fell to his side. "Is that so…?" His words were strangely indifferent. "I'm not sure how exactly to proceed, in that case." A wicked, unsettling grin returned to his face as a cool wind stirred, swaying the grass at their feet.

There was such tension in the air as the breeze stilled that the intent behind the next move was almost tangible—and completely predictable.

"He—_he's here!_ The one on there on the White Fang's left!" cried the fourth, unknown shinobi as he pointed wildly in Hiroto's direction.

An instant later, several columns of sharpened dirt pillars tore up from the ground and jabbed through the air, headed directly for the target at incredible speed—if he'd been a second late in jumping back from the ambush, they surely would have pierced him through.

It was all the team needed—no, it was _beyond_ an adequate reaction to know that, without a doubt, this was Iwa's aim.

As the botched assassination attempt failed, it was swiftly followed up with the appearance of a large-statured man from Iwa who dropped his camouflage from the ground and loomed before Hiroto with his hammer-like fists raised, ready to strike down ruthlessly, but he quickly drew the blade at his side and slashed out towards the larger man's exposed torso, cutting shallowly into his protective gear and forcing him back. Then, a moment later, a puff of smoke erupted from around him and Hamaki stood in his teammate's former place with a glare, ready to attack again, should his enemy take another cheap shot.

The fighting came to a standstill, if only briefly, as only one from each side had yet moved—this clearly hadn't been foreseen by the enemy's side. Now each side was well aware they'd been duped and they were back where they'd started, without an advantage either way.

Hiroto dropped his switched-up transformation as Hamaki and returned to his original appearance, as there was no need to keep it up now. The large man was familiar—not nearly as sizeable or formidable as the missing-nin that terrorized his student, but the resemblance was there, from the nose to the dark, beady eyes to the barrel-like body shape. Then—as he glanced towards the other Iwa shinobi, he noticed the fourth, unknown man had dropped his guise as well. It was the missing-nin that escaped execution at Konoha's hands, the only one left alive who'd seen his face, most likely redeeming himself through this act of revenge in the eyes of his own country.

It was disgusting. Cowardly.

"This won't end well," Sakumo warned their opponents as he drew his chakra sabre from its sheath, kind expression gone and replaced by a hardened sobriety. "If you continue, we _will_ respond in kind. Your transgression against the peace treaty will not be overlooked. However, it would be in your best interest at this moment to accept our scroll and return to your village immediately."

Failure wasn't an option. For Iwa, there was only one thing to do now. Okubo gave a sharp whistle and raised his hand skywards, and at the same instant, Sakumo flared his sabre, flashing a bright white signal to the awaiting backup.

The two sides clashed.

* * *

Travel wasn't so boring anymore, now that the air had been cleared between the two siblings.

Even if it was quiet more often than anything, it was an enjoyable time.

Plus, no matter how dangerous the roundabout routes were said to be, they hadn't encountered a single bandit yet.

'_Things are really looking up lately,'_ Namie mused, letting a smile cross her face as she matched her pace with Minato's as they jumped from branch to branch among the treetops. As she said she would, she kept up her guard as a precaution, but nothing out of the ordinary had caught her eye. The outpost was near—soon, they would be at the end of this forest and left to travel barren, uneven ground lined with hills and mountains.

In truth, she sort of wished they _would_ be ambushed by bandits, if only to see Minato in action. She'd never seen him fight outside of their occasional sparring matches when they were younger. He was a jōnin, now, capable of using the Second Hokage's Hiraishin—and the Rasengan, but she still wasn't sure if he'd begun developing that technique at this point. Actually, they were long overdue for another sparring match—she made a note to bring it up after they completed this mission.

The end of the forest came sooner than she anticipated.

The two siblings' feet landed noiselessly upon the flat, rocky ground as they jumped down from the trees and continued their running pace, on a straight path towards their destination.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful. No surprise attacks, no…nothing. It was so calm that Namie couldn't help but think things were a little _too_ calm. But they'd arrived at the outpost without trouble and all that was left to do was to collect the observation report from the shinobi stationed there—he was called Mutsu, from what Minato mentioned—and then return home.

The outpost was half-concealed near the top of one of the taller mountains, jutting out just enough to where it would appear to be a rock formation when viewed from anywhere else aside from directly in front of it. It had a view that overlooked the majority of the vista spanning the distance to Hot Water as well as the forest they'd come from in the opposite direction. A perfect location for monitoring activity between borders.

Namie approached the door and pressed her hand against the worn wood, ready to push it open and enter, but a sudden cry from Minato distracted her.

"W-wait a second Namie!" A second later, he'd moved to stand between her and doorway with a meek smile. "It's—it would be better to knock first. Mutsu-san is… He's stationed here alone, you see, and he's…easily startled."

"Huh." All she could manage was a deadpan grunt. Minato was uncharacteristically ruffled—hiding something, definitely. Not to mention, his explanations were never that messy. It didn't even make _sense_. This so-called Mutsu was a shinobi, trained and skilled—if he was working here alone, in such a remote location, without anyone else around for miles, he _should_ have been more attuned to recognizing the approach of others. Plus, he should be expecting them. "Then knock." She let it go, for now.

The older blond's shoulders dropped from their rigid, tense posture when Namie didn't question him, and he turned to knock at the door without delay. There was no immediate response, or even a call of acknowledgement.

He knocked once again.

A moment later, the door swung open inward on its hinges—but only a fraction. The wide-eyed, wan-looking face of a man peeked out from between the open space, eyes flitting uncomfortably between the two arrivals. "O-oh, Minato, are you, uh, here for the report? It's not really—ready right now, but—I don't actually know how long it will take." He punctuated his words with a shaky laugh.

Namie peered around Minato to get a better look at the man, and rolled her eyes the moment she noticed the rumpled, crinkled state of his uniform. His fly wasn't even zipped and he'd clearly, hastily thrown his outfit back on to answer the call.

_Of course._ He was a lonely man set up all alone to keep watch from this outpost for long periods of time, without much else to do—and even though it was incredibly irresponsible, it seemed he gave in to natural urges, putting them as a priority over his job. Namie wouldn't be surprised if there was a hooker, or possibly a girlfriend, present behind that door. Or, if he was alone, then…she didn't let her thoughts wander there and looked to the side, rolling her eyes.

Actually—that must have been why Minato stopped her from barging in. A smirk rose to her lips at the thought and she did her best to suppress an amused snicker. It wasn't as if she had any 'virgin eyes' to scar from being unfortunate enough to walk in on two people going on a fuck spree and it basically would have amounted to free porn, but her brother would have been sure to flip his shit if she was subjected to such a lewd sight at her current age.

She wasn't sure what was more entertaining at that point—the fact that this Mutsu guy was a repeat offender and that Minato might have been unlucky enough to walk in on the sight of him screwing someone senseless at some point in the past, or the fact that Mutsu was doing such a poor job of hiding the fact that he was caught with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar while on the job.

Namie glanced up at her brother to gauge his reaction, grinning slightly, but her twistedly-delighted expression faltered when she noticed his face was set as seriously as ever. There was a fierce gleam in his blue eyes and for a moment, she wondered if he would lecture the man.

No, rather—they were both looking directly at each other, communicating in a way she couldn't see. The fact that things were so calm occurred to her again, and she averted her gaze, stepping back from Minato's side and scanning the area to detect enemy signs.

Just then, as if summoned, a pebble trickled down the mountainside from above, landing with a sharp crackle on the ground in front of Namie's feet.

Both siblings turned—glanced upwards instantly to see a large, dark cylinder descending upon them rapidly, and before they could make a move, an oversized mallet wielded by a ponytailed kunoichi crashed into the ground between them with a rumble, sending up hazy, billowing clouds of dust and heavy chunks of dirt and rock. The ground beneath Namie's feet quaked from the impact, and it was too late when she realized she'd been standing _just_ too close to the edge of the mountain pathway.

* * *

Iwa was well-equipped enough to bring more reinforcements than Konoha had thought to bring, though no lives had been lost to the struggle yet. It was a deadlock, at the moment, with scattered one-on-one battles and distance attacks weaving through the combat zone.

As soon as Hiroto's transformation technique had been dropped and his true location was revealed, the large Iwa nin stomped his way and locked him in combat, fists fighting against steel. With the constant rain of vicious assaults, there was little time for either to make use of ninjutsu, though the larger man didn't seem to care, tunnel-minded and dead set on smashing him up physically and getting his hands dirty.

"_KONOHA DOG!_" He gave a mighty roar as he rocketed one ham-like fist towards Hiroto, only to meet the resistance of the other man's steel staff as it blocked the hit.

It creaked under the pressure, was already heavily dented, and wouldn't last much longer. Surely, if it took another strike like that one, it would snap.

There was brutal madness within the man's eyes, thriving on his hatred for the shinobi before him. "Taking rights and taking lives—for that you should atone with your own!"

Hiroto didn't doubt that this was the brother of the high-rated missing-nin he'd killed. Drawing strength from fury that was not his own, that was not logically justifiable—missing-nin were the shame of each ninja country. The scum of the earth, who abandoned their leaders and their lands and severed whatever ties that remained behind. If they were present in the bingo book, they were open targets for hunting. That was only half of his assessment.

The other half…understood the man's rage. Even if he'd been a missing-nin, the man he'd killed was someone's family. Someone's sibling, who had committed crimes and crossed some boundary which resulted in his demise. He hadn't killed anyone close to Hiroto, though he had attempted to maim his student and then ultimately fight him to the death.

In some sense, perhaps he was the one in the wrong here. If it were his sibling…

If it were his sibling, he wouldn't fail to do the same, not _this _time.

But—at the expense of his own country—going even so far as to drag two countries into conflict and place so many lives in peril together to exact his revenge…

It was unforgivable.

Unsightly.

Disgusting.

The man struck out once again, this time shattering the staff into two, and Hiroto took advantage of the moment by ducking down to avoid the hit and swiftly performing the hand seals for an earth-type jutsu that sprung up from the ground beneath the large man's feet—pummeled him in the stomach, shoving him backwards roughly enough that he stumbled and fell to the ground with a yell.

It barely fazed him. While down, he smashed his hands together to begin the hand seals for a counter, eyes blazing.

It was too late to do the same. Hiroto reached for a kunai and a chain of exploding tags without taking his eyes off of the man and constructed a bomb quickly, sparked his chakra to activate it, aimed it and let it fly, to disrupt his focus—yet an earthen hand leaped forth from the ground at the last second to claim it, curl into a fist around it and contain the explosion in a fiery burst of sand and gravel.

A dirty, choking cloud of heavy smoke and dust coated the area—made it damn near impossible to see. The nin was no longer in sight.

The ground shifted beneath his feet—dampened and muddied like a bog as droplets of water sprayed the air as the aftereffect of a jutsu from another battle bleeding into his own.

He moved, jumped away just before a rush of water crashed where he'd stood an instant before—aimed for a direction where the smog would be thinned out and the ground would be solid. Yet the moment he did, the ghostly outline of a figure appeared in the smoke in the corner of his eye—a fist shot out of the veil and collided with the side of his face.

Vertigo seized him and his skull throbbed—the strike knocked him to the soggy ground and he rolled once, twice, before coming to a stop.

He hadn't gotten sucker-punched so powerfully in quite a while—years even. It was a stupid thing to think in the midst of battle.

His fingers sank into the wet dirt as he gripped the ground and pushed himself back to his feet with hands set for a fire jutsu as he sought his enemy's large silhouette in the thinning smoke—_there._ He aimed a powerful surge of fire at the Iwa nin head-on as the man rushed out of the smoke cover and into open area once more.

But the man's attack wasn't finished—he burst from the ignited smoke with his hands set in a final seal, sneering viciously.

A lethally sharpened spike of earth caught Hiroto from his blind spot, ripping through his forearm and shoulder and scraping against the side of his head, slicing into his already-injured face and skewing his forehead protector aside—if he didn't cut his own attack short and throw himself to the side to avoid the brunt of the strike, it would have impaled him straight through.

Blood seeped down the stinging wound, dripping into his eye and dropping a cloudy, red film across everything and he struggled to locate his enemy again even if the world was spinning and his head was aching and his left arm hung at his side like dead weight. Useless.

But his enemy was there. Lumbering forward with a death warrant in his eyes, ready to kill,_ promising_ him death.

He'd nearly forgotten, but…the pain made him feel _alive._ That raw, life-or-death struggle, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the metallic tang of blood on his tongue, his own pulse beating in his ears like the drums of war—there was a certain thrill about being involved in a battle where an opponent wasn't an easy kill, because it was a _challenge_ and it was something to focus his thoughts on, _fully_ focus his thoughts on, and because the victory would mean something.

This man was an enemy to Konoha. He'd helped organize this conflict that threatened their current peace treaty with this ploy of retaliation_._ Even if it was something Iwagakure wanted as a whole, because some people were just war mongers who were never happy with what they had and always desired _more_—he was an enemy.

If he didn't kill him, he would be the one killed.

But even if he died—it was his duty to bring the man down with him.

He took a kunai in his right hand and rushed in to meet the man head-on—evaded the first punch, spun the kunai in his hand and jabbed it downwards, towards the man's throat—met flesh.

But shallowly. The man's arm collided with his chest and knocked him away before he could slice through into an artery (and then straight through to sever the head) and again, he found himself on the ground. Weak. Dizzy. Succumbing to exhaustion and whatever else.

It failed—it _failed._

How long had it been since he was put in such a hazardous situation…? The memory flashed before his eyes.

Right.

It was during the Second War, at a time when he'd barely held the rank of chūnin for half a year. During his first real battle. With Inori, and—

The man's bear-like fist descended from above, ready to claim his life, but Hiroto couldn't quite find the strength to move aside through his delirium. Not anymore.

He didn't need to.

A blade—a white blade—sang as it swept through the air and carved into the Iwa nin's chest, followed by a lightshow of electric sparks. The large man's eyes rolled into the back of his head, showing their whites, and he sagged to the ground, blackened by lightning, dead.

'_There's your revenge,_' Hiroto mused briefly, blearily, as the man's corpse fell, and for a moment he was irritated at his leader—why couldn't he leave the nin to _him?_

Right, because he was blind by blood in one eye, out of an arm, and the world was still whirling.

"Hiroto," Sakumo's voice sounded far away—urgent, but far away—even though he was crouched directly above him, gripping his good shoulder. "_Hiroto!_"

Hiroto's sense returned slowly, faintly, but now he was aware his left shoulder was dislocated—shattered, even—and he'd most likely suffered a concussion from the man's punch earlier. The pain—the actual pain, when the throbbing, screaming aches began—was something he _didn't_ miss.

Hamaki, scuffed-up and favoring one of his legs more than the other, was at his side in the next moment as well, reaching down from his right side to pull his uninjured arm across his shoulders and heave him up to his feet as best as possible to pull him away from the battleground.

The Iwa nin's death was the first on the battlefield—but in short order, two Konoha shinobi fell. Blood from both sides had been spilled and it coated the ground—there was no coming back from the conflict now.

Okubo's—grinning—corpse fell before them as they made their way across the field, away from battle, as Sakumo provided cover.

It was never a better time to have the White Fang on their side.

* * *

If she hadn't been a shinobi with the appropriate training, and merely a normal person, as she'd once been, Namie was sure she couldn't have prevented the fall. But as soon as gravity staked its claim on her, she scrambled to gain purchase against the rough mountain wall and directed chakra to the soles of her feet, using it to cling there firmly before reaching up to grab the ledge she'd fallen from, holding on for her life, gritting her teeth as her fingers trembled to maintain the grip on the unstable, flaking earth.

It would be foolish to fail here and die, when she hadn't even been able to accomplish anything yet—it was something she refused to do. She would fight tooth and nail for her right to survive and her self-imposed purpose in this world. But what purpose _wasn't_ self-imposed?

Whether it was rooted in her own selfish desire or not, she wouldn't allow a bandit's sneak-attack to finish her off.

A hand reached down to grasp her wrist and lift her up back onto solid, reliable ground—it was Minato. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, teeth gnashed—it was a fierce expression she'd only seen once before, but even then it was mildly diluted. Back when he'd found out about her sessions with Inori and the reason behind them…

But it wasn't aimed at her. He held onto her shoulder firmly, protectively, almost to a painful degree—it twinged slightly beneath his hand—as he glared at the kunoichi with the mallet, who only continued to grin an insane, misplaced grin.

"Didn't know we'd be having company," a voice called from the doorway to the outpost. The two siblings turned to see Mutsu being pushed forward onto the mountain pathway with a large kunai blade at his throat—held by a second shinobi bandit. The male missing-nin scoffed in disgust as he cast a side-glance to his kunoichi partner. "At least we offered some hospitality. But you couldn't even hit _one_ of these two kids? You're slipping."

"Not my fault," the ponytailed woman responded light-heartedly, tapping the mallet against the ground as it rested loosely in her sleeve-covered hands, and offered a beaming smile. "But it would have been nice to turn them into little shinobi pancakes." Her grin fell as she pursed her lips and cocked her hip to one side, eyeing her partner blandly. "Besides, I didn't see _you_ trying anything."

"Well someone had to keep an eye on that perv of a hostage in there." The man pressed his blade firmly against his panicked captive's exposed throat, drawing forth a few small beads of blood. "But it looks like he has his uses." His dark gaze turned to the two blonds and he offered a cheery smile. "Heyyy, you two over there—don't move again or I'll cut this guy clean open."

"There's no need for that," Minato quickly protested, though kept his words calm. Took care not to move even if he was hoping it was a bluff—if they'd wanted to kill the shinobi, they would have done so long before. Unless they were just toying with them and _did_ intend to kill him—they didn't appear to be the most stable people.

Namie took her eyes away from the hostage scene and glanced carefully at the kunoichi, analyzing her movements, trying to read her. She held herself with poise, yet she didn't even bother to keep her guard up and stood by relaxed, like a spectator. Whether it was idiocy or overconfidence, she couldn't be sure. Only watch and wait, because a life was at stake.

The woman returned the stare with a cool smile of her own, barely showing teeth. "Oh, but there is! There really is. You see, if you had just stayed still and let me knock you around until you stopped moving, we wouldn't be in this mess."

The man laughed. "It's not too late to correct it. And only one of you needs to die—my wife here is one away from one hundred kills, and she promised to quit the gritty life and retire with me once she reaches it."

"I just killed number ninety-nine earlier today—a pretty little thing, really. Think she was headed here to see Mister Moneybags because he's such a well-paying customer. In fact, the only thing keeping him alive before you came along and interrupted was his habit of keeping secrets. Just wouldn't tell us where he kept his stash! Couldn't even find it when we tore the place apart." She shrugged, twirling the mallet effortlessly in her hands and setting its handle against her shoulder. "But now I have_ three_ options to choose from for the big one-hundred."

"Take your pick, dear."

The kunoichi studied Minato and Namie with keen eyes as she stepped closer and circled them, like a cat playing with its food. Passed by Namie just a bit too closely, to where her sleeve brushed her bare arm, and the action caused the girl to draw her arm back on reflex. She didn't even realize she'd done it until the woman paused to point it out with glee.

"Ah—hold on. This one moved! Did you see? What was it that you said, darling? If they move, you'll cut his throat?"

"I did. Such a shame!"

"_Wait, don't_—!"

Namie's blood chilled—she stood frozen as Minato's hand left her shoulder and he moved, while all she could do was choke out a few meaningless words and watch as the man swiftly dragged his kunai across Mutsu's throat, clicking his tongue in disappointment even as the blood began to flow and Minato rushed him with a kunai in hand and their weapons clashed.

At the same moment, the ponytailed kunoichi gripped Namie's arm and hauled her backwards, pulling them both over the cliff edge in a mock-repeat of the previous incident. She set her feet against the slanted side of the mountain and maintained the connection with chakra as she surfed towards the base, where the ground was flatter and more open—more suitable for a battle, while dragging the blonde.

Namie was released abruptly a short distance away from the ground, left to roll unceremoniously and painfully to a stop, skinning her elbows and knees on the sharp rocks littered along the way. The kunoichi had the nerve to laugh—an irritating, tittering sound that wasn't mocking, but was strangely enough amused. Sadistic.

It was just asking for payback.

"It's been a while since I've fought a child. You look like you have more spark than most—enough to put up a cute struggle. How _perfect _for a last kill." She flicked her ponytail, grinning with all her teeth in a way that made a repulsed shiver run through the blonde's spine.

"You fucking bitch," Namie hissed as she clenched her teeth and reached to her holster for a kunai, forcing away the adrenaline shakes summoned by the bloodshed and imminent danger.

"Whoa, language." She took her mallet in her sleeve-covered hands and sank into a fighting pose. "Bad kids should be spanked, you know. No one let _me_ talk like that when I was your age."

She launched, speeding forward with mallet raised and Namie's hold on her weapon slipped before she could draw it—instead, she switched tactics and mashed her fingers together in the seal required for a Body Flicker, relocating past the nin just as the weapon came plunging down.

She would have blocked it—but it was _huge_ and bone-crushingly heavy, if its damage to the ground was anything to go by. The head of the mallet was easily three times the size of her skull, yet the ponytailed woman wielded it as if it were light as a feather _and_ she was light on her feet. Since she didn't have a weapon of her own that was capable of matching the mallet, blocking it with her arms was out of the question. It was better to avoid it and seek an opening—or to stop it altogether.

The enemy was fast. But if she caught her off-guard at the right moment, she could make use of a Decapitation jutsu and drag her under the dirt so that her arms were useless and she couldn't swing that hammer even if she wanted to. It was worth a shot. Namie slipped her hand into the weapon pouch at her back and withdrew a smoke pellet.

"Ah, there you are," the woman muttered in faux-surprise as she turned to see where her target had fled. "Won't you stay still?" She hefted the mallet up and pivoted on her heel, swinging it sideways to catch Namie in the side.

She ducked, evading its course, and slammed the smoke pellet onto the ground, cloaking herself in the cloudy smog cover. The kunoichi released an impressed cry when her vision was blocked and jumped back, but by then Namie had already run through the hand seals needed for her attack and disappeared underground.

Her hand shot through the dirt and grasped firmly onto the woman's bare ankle—a solid hold—and she heaved her downwards with a powerful tug, entombing her up to the neck—

Only, a second later, the limb she'd been grasping was replaced by the gnarled root of one of the small, sickly-looking trees that clung to the mountainside.

Namie clicked her tongue and scanned the area frantically as she terminated the jutsu and reached for a kunai once again, arming herself, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

A heel collided with the blonde's back suddenly, shoving her forward. She stumbled one step, two steps, then caught her bearings and spun to face the kunoichi, and not a moment too soon. Again, the mallet careened her way, intent on landing a strike at long last and there wasn't time to evade it, not again—but it stopped just a millimeter shy of the tip of her nose, forcing her hair back in a burst of wind.

"Nope. Too easy. Don't want to ruin that cute face of yours." The mallet dropped to the ground and the strike was replaced by a powerful kick that the younger girl was just barely able to block and push back with her forearms as she braced her feet with chakra against the ground when they slid over the loose pebbles. The woman used the force of the shove to pivot around and swing her weapon in a wide arc to catch Namie's legs, but she leapt over it and landed on the ground in a roll before running to distance herself and get the time to _think._

The Decapitation jutsu hadn't worked—it_ was_ a low-ranked technique and most seasoned shinobi were well and able to avoid it. It might have been a mistake to rely on it, especially since the woman was quick to react.

Then—she needed to stop her from moving around so much. She needed to limit her freedom.

Namie pulled a storage scroll from her backpack and unrolled it deftly, sparking her chakra and releasing two handfuls of shuriken. She flung the first one immediately, and it cut through the air near the woman's face, _just _missing but slicing into the edge of her bangs, before embedding into the rock wall behind her.

The kunoichi only laughed. "Was that on purpose?"

"Nope," Namie lied, only barely able to get the word out before the woman dashed her way in a straight shot. She jumped away, to the side, and as soon as the direction shifted, she pitched six more shuriken past either side of her opponent. The mallet crashed down—she narrowly rolled away to avoid it, but took the opportunity to lodge some shuriken into its surface. She quickly withdrew another weapon scroll to unleash more of the projectiles until they peppered the surrounding area in a haphazard, silvery pattern.

As soon as the last weapon left her hands, Namie stopped and turned to face her opponent, whose grin was straining and giving way to annoyance—something a little more human—at long last. "There, _now_ you're standing still. I changed my mind. I think I will smash you up."

It was enough—it might have been enough. It was all the shuriken she could handle alone, at least. Setting up traps like these had been much easier when she'd had her team's help.

When the woman raised her weapon to strike, Namie tightly gripped the wires in her hands and pulled them taut. The thin lines rose up, intersecting and crisscrossing from their various locations weaved among the mountainside and ground, and caught the woman in a net of rigid steel.

The mallet froze. Strained against the wires—she could feel it—and her enemy's grin finally faded into a thin, flat line. She tilted her face sideways, pressing it against the wire that ran closest to her head until small droplets of blood beaded along the strand as it cut into her skin. She watched them slide along the steel line before shooting a simmering glare towards Namie. There was no longer a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Seeing as her weapon was tangled up and useless, she dropped it from her hold, letting it hang suspended by the wires, and pressed her hands together, forming a single seal.

Namie's heart skipped a beat. Those eyes—they were full of cold, blood-lusting fury, to such an extent that she briefly doubted herself, wondered if she'd underestimated the woman and overestimated her own abilities. She was caught, transfixed, as if _she_ were the one trapped, and she didn't even notice the other nin completing a series of hand seals to follow the first.

Then came a pained shout—accompanied by a shrill, vicious laugh—and at that moment she remembered she wasn't alone. No, Minato was nearby, handling the other rogue. Naturally, she assumed he'd just finished his opponent off, but that cry was too familiar—just too familiar. And _wrong._

Her eyes snapped upwards, in the direction of the outpost, almost fearing what she would see, and her breath caught in her throat and the wires slipped from her slackened fingers, because a familiar silhouette with very familiar blond hair—hair she knew too well, because it was the very same as hers—fell from the mountain path and rolled heavily down the incline, with limbs flailing like a ragdoll, almost lifelessly—

—Until the body landed in a heap near her feet, staring upwards with cold, glossed-over blue eyes that were such a familiar sight that it _hurt_ it ripped into her heart like the blade of a knife being driven in deep and twisted because those were _her_ eyes, the same eyes she saw when she looked in the mirror; the same eyes she saw when she looked at her _brother_ and he wasn't moving, he wasn't breathing, he looked—

Dead.

_Dead…?_

No, no that wasn't quite right. There was no way he would die here, at the hands of a random nobody missing-nin who was looking for a fight. He was stronger than that, but it looked so _so_ real—

Namie searched her mind, straining to detect the flicker of interrupted chakra. There was something wrong, she knew it—no, it _had_ to be a genjutsu, because it just didn't add up. _Couldn't_.

There was something wrong.

There was something wrong.

It was—

_There. _

Like the sour, twanging note of a bad chord jarring a smooth symphony, the disturbance was there, misplaced, and buzzing with a faint static similar to when her mind had been invaded by Inori's experiments so long ago.

She knew without a doubt that she'd been captured by the woman's genjutsu.

Reality flickered before her eyes, now—oscillating between the fake fake _fake_ image of her dead sibling and the sight of the kunoichi rushing at her once again with her ponytail swinging wildly, freed from the wire trap, raising her mallet high, high above and grinning madly, eagerly, because there was no way she could avoid the hit now, not now—

The illusion shattered.

Namie raised her arms to block the strike, left with no better moves and only knowing she had to default to defense, to protect herself, even if it meant another broken arm, because what was a broken arm in exchange for her life.

The mallet crashed down.

* * *

Hamaki and Sakumo safely reached the medic of the backup unit and delivered Hiroto into his care.

"How bad is it?" Sakumo asked urgently.

The medic nin's hands glowed a soft green as he assessed the damage with a quick diagnostic test. Then, immediately, he set to healing the split, bruised skin on the man's face—a gash ran deep near his cheek, cutting almost all the way through and it was sure to leave a scar, and split to the bone closer to his forehead. "Concussion. His shoulder was injured as well, knocked out of the socket—broken, maybe. The damage is unclear. I can't fully heal him here—he won't be able to return to the battlefield." At the medic's side were two patched-up shinobi, and a short distance away were four fallen comrades.

Konoha was steadily losing, but they'd been outnumbered from the start.

Sakumo closed his eyes, gritting his teeth silently. Had it been oversight? How had the situation turned so far from their favor? "I'm calling for a retreat. Where is your squad leader?" he asked the medic, scanning the grounds for the familiar man as he spoke.

"Locked in battle. _Everyone_ is."

As he spoke, another shinobi arrived at their sides, looking worse for the wear, bleeding from the face and breathing heavily, haggard. "Something has to be done here. Iwa has the edge."

"We can't afford to lose any more lives. Is there an opening to flee?" Sakumo asked.

The backup leader shook his head, looking grim. "There isn't. Everyone is doing all they can to keep the enemy at bay." He paused to grimace. "Not only that, but we've lost too many. Half of the force. Damn Iwa…"

"What option do we have?"

The other man fell silent, solemn.

"Sakumo-san, my units can provide cover long enough for your team to retreat. To return to Kusagakure and send out an alert to Konoha of the situation. Or to return to the Land of Fire altogether—"

"No. That's _suicide_—"

"We'd be more than happy to die giving you the chance to escape."

Sakumo fell silent, giving the other squad leader a long, hard stare. His words were honest, true—they carried the sentiment of the entire troupe. If they could die with meaning, to the betterment of their village, they wouldn't hesitate to lend their support. If there was just a _chance._

The decision was heavy. If they left, it was doubtful the others would survive. But if they remained…there was a slim chance _they_ would survive. It wasn't a situation where the losses would be spared either way. There was far too much damage already and if they all faced their deaths here, then it would be days, weeks, until Konoha discovered the failure and threat Iwagakure posed. _Someone_ had to return.

More than that, _he_ wanted to return, if he could. He'd left a student behind—he'd left his son behind—with the promise that he would come back home. As a father, he wanted to return.

"Alright. I understand. We'll take the chance."

There was no joy in the agreement. It was a death sentence.

The squad leader nodded. "Godspeed." In the next instant, he disappeared, returning to the battlefield with his comrades.

Sakumo turned his attention back to his teammate and the medic currently healing his injuries. "Is he fit to travel?"

The medic nodded. "Barely. Just barely. The outpost—if you get him to the border outpost in our country, you can change his bandages and set his arm correctly—the pain is too much, now, but—I would go, too, but there are still others here who need attention…"

"I understand," Sakumo nodded somberly. "They need you here."

Hamaki slung Hiroto's arm around his shoulder again as soon as the medic finished administering the care he could provide and glanced at Sakumo, catching his eye and nodding.

It was now or never.

They ran.

* * *

"Well, well. Look at that. You're full of surprises, aren't you…?"

The mallet _did_ make contact—it did. Namie was sure of it.

Only—there was no damage. There, just between the heavy head of the wooden mallet and Namie's arms, was a glowing partition of chakra. The same as the shield technique—no, it _was_ the shield technique, manifested it in a similar manner to how she'd been practicing, with bright chakra filaments stretched and combined to provide a rough, square-ish shape that thwarted the attack and kept the weapon at bay, to the point where it blocked any potential damage. But it wasn't strong—it flickered as a failing light bulb would and was likely just as weak as glass bending under pressure the longer the weapon held contact because she hadn't consciously summoned it and was hardly in a state to focus on fortifying it. Soon, the mallet broke through completely, leaving Namie to jump back, away from the baffled kunoichi.

But it _worked_.

Through some breakthrough, maybe just a fluke, it _worked_—the idea Namie had been working with concerning her personal technique and genjutsu resist strategies—it worked better than she ever thought it would and provided enough time to prepare a counter.

She wouldn't rely on it again—wasn't sure she _could_, yet…

The confusion gave her the upper edge and spurred on her courage as the adrenaline rush provided a shot of clarity and fearlessness to what once seemed like a hopeless situation.

And, oh, did the rage simmer—blazed up slowly from her gut as she focused her hatred onto the woman, the stupid, stupid woman who'd tried to make her think Minato was dead, felled by someone as unworthy as them.

Rogue murderers didn't _get_ to decide when the people she wanted to protect would die.

Namie rushed forward, fueled by revenge, for something that almost was but wasn't and for a misstep from the past that she wished could be corrected by this alone (she'd long since decided not to let her enemies live), and the wires were between her fingers before she knew it, untwisting, reaching out in a wide arc that caught the woman around the neck as she stood in dumb shock. From behind, she pulled, viciously yanked, the wire noose into a tight, merciless close, to feel it cut through flesh and snag on bone, to see the blood, to see this woman _choke _on it.

In the kunoichi's delayed reaction, she'd managed to slip one of her sleeved hands between the few centimeters that remained between her neck and the wires, managing to stave off her death for a few moments longer.

The sleeve slit open upon contact with the tightening threads, would have cut straight through her skin if not for the thick glove reinforcing it beneath. With a quick jerk, she tore through the wires and bent forward, transitioning into a graceful roll that put a safe distance between herself and her opponent while she regained her bearings.

The woman no longer smiled. As she massaged her throat, panting and sweating from the chill of a near-death via decapitation, from an otherwise harmless looking _child_—shinobi or not—a grim seriousness settled across her features. Her heart hammered within her chest. This—this was _danger._ A sense of warning she'd long since given up and ignored but still recognized.

…It was bound to happen eventually after facing ninety-nine consecutive kills. The idea that maybe she'd encounter one that would end _her_.

But she wouldn't let that happen without taking the girl along to the grave with her. Death or not, she'd be damned if she didn't strike down her hundredth victim.

The kunoichi gripped her mallet in her hands and spun around to face the girl as the sound of shifting feet against sliding dirt reached her ears, and swung her weapon in an arc meant to smash bone.

It met air.

The point of a kunai blade pressed up against the side of her throat, against a vital artery, as she was caught off-kilter during mid-strike and her battle-frenzied eyes met the burning, violent glare of the blonde child that froze her straight to the core. Those were blood-thirsting eyes she _knew_, set on one thing and one thing only—which could only be countered with death.

Her eyes creased into thin, upward crescents filled with bursting emotions of surprise, bemusement, _excitement_, and the mallet fell from her grip as she grinned once more, throwing her sleeves up and revealing the several paper bombs concealed throughout the material—more than enough to douse the entire area in flame—and sparked her chakra to ignite them in a grand finale they had only the very best seats in the house to see.

Namie faltered just as soon as her blade pierced the woman's throat and cut into it deeply enough to draw blood. There were too many bombs and she was too close—the blast radius of all those combined at once was impossible to escape even with a Body Flicker and even though her thoughts raced between things like _oh fuck, oh fuck I messed up_ and a way to escape unscathed, she knew—there wasn't a way out. Only a way to protect herself, if it would work, but could chakra protect against the blaze of something as all-consuming as fire?

She didn't know. She didn't know, but she let go of the kunai and drew her arms up in front of her face, focusing as much of her chakra as she could and molding a blockade that seemed slow, oh so slow.

The first bomb ignited—set off a minor blast directly beside the woman at the arm, engulfing her in blossoms of deep orange and yellow flame that would have been strikingly beautiful under any other circumstances—and the rest followed in a chain reaction.

Namie could feel the mounting heat, the burn, the choking grip of death in smoke and ash—

This was it.

This was her grave.

This was certain death—_again._

She barely had the time to process that thought when an arm gripped her around the middle and pulled her away—jerked her feet off the ground as if she were flying and she thought it was the explosion knocking her away, that shrapnel rock collided with her and she was only imagining the hold, because everything went dark and even when she blinked she couldn't see, couldn't feel, maybe it was death, maybe she'd failed in this life, failed everything—

Then, all at once, she tumbled to the rocky ground and swirling bits of blues, tans, browns, the bright sunlight, the door of the outpost, skewed on its side, blinked into view, and so did something yellow—a color she knew—and she choked out a breath because the compression on her lungs and the pressure of death eased up all at once and the air was so, _so_ fresh and clean.

"_Namie!_ Are you alright?"

No. She was stupid. It wasn't death—it was the Hiraishin. Her brother clutched a three-pronged kunai in one hand as he crouched beside her, eyes wide in worry and just bordering on despair as he urged a response.

But she couldn't remember seeing a marked kunai before the explosions began. Knew she didn't have one anywhere on her person. Then—had he marked seal on _her?_ She thought back to when he'd pulled her from the mountain side, when he'd kept his hand on her shoulder, and idly raised her hand to it as she sat up.

She took a moment to exhale deeply, feeling the cold, abrupt dread of her impending and expected doom evaporate, leaving behind an almost unbearable heat that rivaled the hot haze from the large-scale explosion. Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off and her heart rate evened out, she began to feel the nagging pulls of pain from the fight—but it wasn't anything worse than she'd experienced before. It was tolerable. She was still alive and without a burn on her thanks to Minato's godlike intervention; _Flying Thunder God_, indeed.

"I'm—I'm fine, Minato," she managed, remembering he'd spoken as she looked up to meet his frantic gaze, letting the name slip out because she was just too goddamn tired and relieved to care and call him by his usual title. "What happened? Where's the other bandit?"

Minato closed his eyes and bowed his head as he breathed again for the first time in what felt like years. After a moment, he spoke. "Dead. He was swallowed by the explosion."

Her gaze traveled to the outpost entrance properly, where, just beside it, Mutsu's prone body lay. Bloody around the neck, seeping down his shirt, soaking into the dirt. "Is he…?"

"He didn't make it," Minato confirmed tersely, and she quickly looked back to where he kneeled beside her. She quickly checked him over. His hands were bloodied, stained—he must have tried to save their comrade in between fighting the male missing-nin. Aside from that, he didn't suffer any injuries himself. But the mental suffering was clear—they'd lost a fellow shinobi.

From a stupid slip-up. Or was it just something fated to happen from the start regardless of their presence and attempted intervention…?

"_Dammit._" Namie pushed herself to her feet and approached the edge of the mountainside, hands clenched into fists. Searched the scorched ground, knowing she wouldn't find any corpses—maybe bones—but looking anyway. Wanted to make double-sure the woman died, suffered and paid for her wrongdoings—was glad she was gone, but felt a twinge of bitterness at not being the one to cause it.

The wind carried the smoke away, thinned it out enough that she could see a few stray, remaining embers and smoldering, crisped trees beyond, but not much else in that deserted death hole.

Minato rose to his feet as well, eyes following his sister's movements as she stood at the edge of the cliff; knew she felt the pain and unfairness of the abrupt loss even if she hadn't been personally acquainted with Mutsu. "We should head inside for now," he suggested quietly, even knowing by her posture that she needed time to herself.

"Go ahead without me. I'll be in soon."

"…Alright. Hurry back."

She dropped down onto the steep cliff side, conducting chakra to her feet and sliding down the dirt wall in much the same way the kunoichi had.

Something caught her sight as soon as she reached the bottom—it stuck out of the dirt, half-buried in dust and broken rock. She gripped the wooden pole and pulled it, unearthing the kunoichi's mallet weapon. No longer swelled to a bizarre, dangerous size or weight—shrunken to something closer to a normal, manageable size now that the woman no longer wielded it. Perhaps she'd modified it with chakra when it was in her hands.

It managed to escape the explosion no worse for the wear—possibly also thanks to the woman's chakra imbued in it. Now, it rested in her hands like some sick heirloom, or trophy, even though she hadn't dealt the finishing blow.

This was the weapon she'd likely used to kill others—the ninety-nine others she'd boasted. Shinobi, other bandits, maybe—but also women, children. Defenseless civilians. She looked closely, let her eyes rove the rough wood surface, seeking remnants of those deaths in faded crimson stain, yet all she could see was the layer of dust and the nicks in its flat faces from hitting jagged rock.

The only way she could think to honor those victims was to claim the weapon and cultivate it for a noble cause to reverse its uses for highway robberies and murder. Without another thought on the matter, she extracted a scroll from her backpack and sealed the weapon up in storage.

She glanced around the area. The geography changed slightly—there were no more rock formations in the area where the several paper bombs detonated—and the ground was cratered. If she approached the one where the woman had fallen, she was certain she'd see remains—not many, scatterings of bone and charred flesh, perhaps, but enough to know there was a fatality.

There was nothing left there but the creeping, lingering thought that _she_ could be left dead in one of those craters, too, as the kunoichi's hundredth kill.

Namie returned to the outpost where Minato was waiting. Mutsu's body was no longer outside—he'd brought the corpse indoors and set him peacefully in the corner, away from the clutter caused by the two rogues that ransacked the place. Could have been sleeping, if he weren't so grimly still. So red.

"I've sent word to the outpost near the Land of Rice Fields. Once they arrive, we'll be on our way." Minato descended the small staircase in the corner of the room holding a scroll—the border activity log they'd come for, which barely seemed important now despite being the objective from the start—and a first-aid kit. He'd rolled up his bloodstained sleeves and his hands were clean again. "You were injured, Namie. We should take care of that now before it gets infected." He took a seat at the bottom of the stairs and opened the red and white tin, digging through it for antiseptic salve and bandages.

"They're just scratches. No big deal." She bent her arm, glancing down at her skinned elbow. It was crusted over and coated in dirt—definitely _did_ need to be cleaned, at least. The other was in a similar state, as was one of her knees. Really, it looked as if she'd taken a bad fall at the playground instead of faced off against an enemy shinobi.

"Taji would say otherwise."

Namie glanced up to see Minato staring pointedly at her, and with a quiet sigh, she approached him and held out her hand for the supplies she needed. But, instead of handing them over, he grasped her arm lightly and turned it so he could press a cloth to her elbow. She didn't try to resist the care—even though she didn't particularly like being coddled. But it wasn't the time to argue over taking care of it herself.

Her eyes wandered towards the corner where Mutsu's body rested. It reminded her of Kasuga's death in its starkly…_empty_…nature, but at least he'd been allowed the dignity of having his head attached to his body as he died.

It happened so suddenly. All it took was one swift movement, and that was the end of his life—she'd come to learn that deaths were quick things when done intentionally and by an experienced hand.

Maybe he'd expected it, after the two bandits tied him up and took him as their captive, maybe he longed he'd live—either way, even if he was a little careless, he didn't deserve to die. If he didn't, if things went differently and didn't just get all fucked sideways, he probably would have learned from his mistakes.

"Do you think anything could have been done to stop it…?" she asked.

"Several things, probably. But we weren't lucky enough to have it happen that way."

"I'm sorry."

Minato bowed his head. "I am, too."

Nothing could be done about Mutsu—not now. He'd known that from the moment he knocked his opponent away long enough to check the man, see the rate of bleeding, and he was no medic nin but it was clearly fatal. If the missing-nin hadn't interrupted him when he tried to stem the bleeding and try, at least _try_ to do something about it, maybe it would have been different. But it wasn't. All he could do was focus on taking down the enemy and rushing to his sister's side to help her.

It wasn't that he thought she _needed_ it_._ When Namie was separated from him during the fight, he couldn't help but worry; she was his only little sister. But she was also a shinobi. He had the sense to trust her to handle her own life, because she _was_ capable of it and she didn't need a senior shadowing her every step of the way.

She'd taken control of the situation on her own, at first. If the woman hadn't resorted to a suicide spectacle, he was sure Namie would have fatally injured—even possibly killed—her. He knew she could, because she'd done it before.

The intent was there.

There was no hesitation.

It was the first time he'd seen Namie as a shinobi and…he was proud. She wasn't perfect and there was room for improvement, but she could pull her own weight. He was proud.

But the problem came when his own enemy, one he was sure he'd defeated as he kneeled on the ground bleeding, wheezing, pushed himself over the mountainside with one final burst of strength and used the remainder of his life to go to someone he loved in his last living moments. The woman would retaliate to that, he was sure—he knew that, yet…Mutsu was still alive, clinging to survival, struggling to remain conscious. He was faced with the choice of leaving the man to die alone and scared, choking on his own blood, in favor of providing support for Namie, or putting his faith in Namie's ability to persevere alone—briefly considered sending a shadow clone to aid her, but there wasn't time.

In the end, the woman forced the decision for him. If he'd reacted a second later—no, if he hadn't planned ahead and placed a Hiraishin seal on Namie as a split-second precaution—the chain of explosions would have consumed her along with everything else at the foot of the mountain.

It was a miracle he'd made it in time and he only had the Second Hokage and his ingenious technique to thank for that.

If he didn't…if she'd _died_, and he would have to return a charred corpse—or lack thereof—to their home village—and if he had to bury her next to their_ parents_...

"Brother?"

Minato glanced up, coming out of his thoughts. Realized he'd wrapped too many bandages around the girl's injury and quickly unraveled the extra.

He was distracted.

Lost thinking about Mutsu's fate, the encounter with the missing-nin, the results—Namie wasn't sure about what exactly, but she didn't want to bring it up, either. It was better to keep their minds off of it for now because it was just too damn sad. Instead, she thought back to the Hiraishin, and how he'd used it to help her escape certain death.

"Thanks for saving me. I shouldn't have gotten stuck in that kind of situation—shouldn't have had to involve you."

That distant expression disappeared and a faint smile rose to his face as he tied the bandages around her arm and moved on to the next. "Namie…you're my little sister. I couldn't just stand by."

"What if I _wasn't _your sister? Would you have done the same thing?" The words came from god knows where, and as soon as they left her mouth she blinked and glanced away, slightly ashamed that she'd even asked.

Minato paused as he pressed a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic to her other elbow and considered her question.

Now he remembered the one, pressing reason he would never feel appropriate taking Namie under his wing as a student—the bias.

As a jōnin, of course it was his responsibility to look after a genin child who'd been sent along with him on a mission—no, not just a genin, but any comrade under his lead. He also had the responsibility of looking after himself. If it had been anyone else, however, he wouldn't have thought to place a Hiraishin seal on their person, and that immediate rescue wouldn't have been possible. He would have put himself right in the center of the inferno if he'd thrown a marked kunai instead, because space-time travel was fast, near instantaneous, but it still took _time_ for the kunai to reach—time nobody had at that moment.

Everyone would have died.

"No," he replied quietly. "I wouldn't have."

The words lingered in the silence.

She didn't know if his response was selfish, or perhaps a bit cruel—didn't care either way. There were very few people_ she_ would put her life on the line for—and just two in the entire world that she would do so for without abandon or a single regret.

She would do the same for him.

* * *

**A/N:** Very quick note today because this chapter is beyond long enough already—**AthanatosOra **has drawn an amazingly cool like WHOA fanart of Namie which you can view through a link on my profile!


	33. Twenty-nine

**Chapter Twenty-nine: Who it Affects, What Remains**

* * *

Adjusting to the sanctity and safety that Konoha's walls provided after returning from a botched mission was no more comforting than being a naïve chick contained within its egg, blind to the world beyond.

It was a façade. Paper-thin and easily crushed.

Namie remembered that every time she sought peace and repose from the village that just wasn't _there._ It wasn't home—not when she was by herself. The familiar _Konoha_ she'd come to love—the one that did provide comfort—was not a village at all. It was her friends and family.

But it was impossible to be near them during every waking moment, and in sleep she was painfully alone and vulnerable.

Her hands shook as she woke up from a mangled, psychotic slideshow of death and gore she hadn't been plagued with since sometime after Kasuga's passing—and struggled for a grip on reality, clutching the sheets of the bed she still hadn't come to think of as her own even though it undoubtedly was, until her knuckles turned white and she felt the sharp tips of her fingernails press into her palms through the material, reassuring her that this was indeed the waking world.

The nightmare was a response to her recent brush with death, she knew. It took its time stewing in her mind before ambushing her and making her wake up damp from her own sweat days after the actual event, when it finally registered in her mind that she very nearly _could_ have died. Almost did.

But…it was partially her fault. The entire mission weighed on her mind since she and her brother returned to Konoha, if not because of the disastrous circumstances, then because of the fact that she'd relied on Minato twice during it.

She was still leagues away from where she wanted to be—needed to be. Not the best realization to wake up to in the morning.

It was the prelude to a bad day. No—a bad week.

* * *

Namie wanted to return to training as soon as possible.

Only, she was without a teacher yet again.

It _was_ temporary—still, she couldn't help but feel annoyed. Of course she was well and able to train on her own, as he'd instructed her to do, but that was…boring.

Days had passed since Hiroto left to undertake his mission and the minimum of a week-long absence was approaching.

With luck, he would return the next day. If it ended up being a _month_ before he came back to the village, she may as well keep training on her own even after that. Maybe her attitude towards this situation was selfish and bratty. But if she wanted to self-teach she never would have needed to be a part of a team and would have just broken out of the traditional system; she would have gotten advice and sparring training from her friends and family from the start without having to go through all of the pain of getting to know a group and then having it ripped apart.

Which was exactly why she'd found herself in the company of Suzume, Toboe, and Toriichi during their team lessons.

There was an itching nag in the back of her mind that suspected Hiroto knew about her thoughts on the matter, too, since he suggested the idea in the first place—and lo and behold, here she was following his agenda.

But—letting herself fall victim to distracting thoughts like that proved to be her downfall in a genjutsu-based sparring match with Toboe and his ninken.

Two dogs, mirror-reflections of Kurocha, darted towards her across the grassy field—one could have been a clone, she wasn't actually completely certain she was caught up in a genjutsu or if this was reality since she wasn't paying attention properly. They might have both been clones. But in the next instant, the two dogs multiplied into four and all charged in at once.

Simultaneously, outside the bounds of the genjutsu, the real Kurocha head-butted her in the stomach. Not enough to leave a bruise or even to damage her, but it bowled her over and left her wheezing and flailing, with a hyper, grinning mess of brown fur stomping all over her chest with heavy, lead-like paws and licking her face without remorse in a show of affection.

At least it broke the illusion.

"Whoa, you weren't lying. You really aren't that great with this, Strawhead." Toboe stood over them with squinted, unimpressed eyes and crossed arms. He left the blonde to the mercy of the brown pup for a moment more before calling him off with a quick hand signal. "C'mon, Kurocha."

"You don't have torepeat that," Namie breathed out once the dog scrambled off of her chest and allowed her to. She sat up and wiped the canine drool off of her face half-heartedly as Suzume approached them. "I wasn't really focusing. I can do it—I know I can. I _did_ do it before. Just once, during my mission. But it's still something." She rose to her feet and took a moment to steady herself. "Let's go again."

"Before you get too worked up…" Suzume pulled a handkerchief free from her pink yukata sleeve and handed it over to her blonde friend. She didn't doubt her words, but that didn't change the fact that this was the fifth attempt against Toboe and herself and it resulted in nothing more than the previous tries. If she didn't intervene, the girl would work herself—along with them—into exhaustion. "Why don't we take a break for now?"

"Sounds awesome! Isn't it lunch time, Suzume-chan?" Toboe asked, chipper as ever, as a crooked grin wandered onto his face and his eyes scanned the area for a lunch box or bag of snacks nearby. He was pretty sure he'd seen Namie bring along a pretty large stash of food.

The perm-haired girl was quick to shoot him down. "Not even."

"Oh…Well, whatever." His eyes darted back to Namie. "Give us a story, Strawhead. You can tell us a little about that mission, right? You've had waaay more exciting things to do than we have." He didn't bother to lower his voice even though their teacher, Yuuhi Shinku, was instructing Toriichi in sword combat nearby. It was only when Suzume cleared her throat and sent him a meaningful glance that he belatedly realized his slip-up and quickly glanced over his shoulder in their direction, sheepish. "Uh, it's not like _we_ don't get exciting stuff, too, I mean, I guess…"

Namie pushed off of the ground and rose to her feet, stretching out her shoulders idly as she shrugged. Exciting—it wasn't a word she would use to describe the mission with her brother. More like depressing. Devastating. Three people had died, but the two didn't matter. Only the fallen ally did. The thought that such a thing could be considered interesting pricked at her, but she shoved that feeling away.

"There's nothing to tell. A lot of it was footwork."

"_Boring_." Toboe sighed and crossed his arms behind his head, pouting. "Come on," he wheedled, "didn't you run into any bandits or something? _Something_ interesting?"

"Not really," she lied and averted her eyes. Then, she glanced back at him smugly. "I'd be happy to give you a detailed rundown of each type of tree I saw along the way, though. One had some really crazy mold going on—"

Suzume interrupted. "I think that's enough."

Namie shrugged, knowing that was her friend's way of saying _quit teasing Toboe because you know he won't let up._ That, or she just had something against moldy trees.

"We've rested long enough as it is. Are you ready to try again, Namie-chan?"

Toboe hopped to his feet with a grin the moment the blonde nodded. "Alright! Time for me to win again, Strawhead," he taunted good-naturedly.

"Not you, Toboe-kun. It's my turn. You need to rest up more."

The boy bristled. "What? No way, Suzume-chan. I—" A shrill cry from a messenger hawk circling above them in the sky cut him off mid-sentence.

The three genin looked up to see the bird soaring in a languid series of loops—none knew what it meant; only that it wasn't a random occurrence.

Shortly after, Shinku approached them with Toriichi ambling along behind him, and fixed his students with a serious but slightly apologetic stare. "That was a summons; I'm afraid I have to cut training short today. We'll meet again tomorrow." His red gaze flicked to the blonde. "Feel free to join us again at that time, Namie-san."

Namie nodded curtly in response while the other three reacted with various levels of disappointment but understanding as their teacher headed off.

"Bummer. Wonder what that was about? Shinku-sensei never gets called away," Toriichi wondered as he sheathed his tanto.

Discomfort bubbled up in Namie's gut as she let her gaze follow the path the man had taken back towards the village.

"Emergency?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady but failing to keep it from trembling faintly. The words _crucial mission_ swirled in her thoughts in an echoing pattern.

What if—what if she'd been right? What if the mission Hiroto had taken on _was_ the one that involved Hatake Sakumo, the one Sakumo failed—the one where so many shinobi had died. Her hands curled absentmindedly into tight fists.

"Emergency? Nah, no way." Toboe waved his hand dismissively, but the act did nothing to calm the blonde's worry.

"It must have been important either way," the dark-haired girl stated. "But it doesn't involve us."

"Let the adults handle it," Toriichi added with a shrug.

Namie glanced at the others quietly, considering their words.

The gap of differences between them had never been so clear.

"Say, since we've got the rest of the day off, why don't we all go hang out with the other guys? Pretty sure Genma and his team aren't training today. You too, Strawhead. It's been a while." The Inuzuka reached out to grab Namie's shoulder and gain her attention when she'd turned away and let her eyes wander to the sky again, but she easily avoided his hand and shook her head.

"Sorry, I have somewhere else to be."

* * *

'_That jerk better not have gone and gotten himself killed.'_ Namie gritted her teeth as she rushed through the village rooftops, scanning the area for any suspicious gatherings of shinobi. She wasn't sure where she was going, only that she had to find out if he'd returned—dead or alive. But…

Her pace slowed to a halt. She crouched on the end of a low roof in a passing residential district upon realizing she really _didn't_ know where to go to get the answer she wanted.

A cold sweat covered her hands as she gripped the rough shingles beneath her feet. Going to the Hokage was out of the question, because it really didn't involve her and there was no way he would waste time with a nosy, eleven-year-old genin when she wasn't a cause for concern anymore. She didn't even know where her teacher _lived_ or else she would have stopped by his home to check for signs of his arrival. If he was injured during the mission, he would definitely be taken to the hospital sooner or later.

But if he was dead, there wasn't really a need for that.

The hospital—right. There was _one _person there who would likely be able to give her the information she wanted, and it was someone she didn't particularly mind demanding things from despite him being a higher rank.

The unsettling scent of antiseptic hit her nose the moment she entered the building and made a beeline for that familiar hallway that led to a familiar office. It was there, only a few paces away, with the door slightly ajar—she grabbed onto its frame and pushed it aside without bothering to knock and stood in the entrance with her expression set firmly. "Inori-sensei."

"Nam—_Namie-chan?_" The blond man was forced to do a double-take as he turned away from the documents in his hands and swiveled around in his chair to face the door. "What are you—no, never mind. I'm surprised you didn't get here earlier, really." With a sigh, he returned his attention to the stack of papers—a recent diagnostic report on a newly-admitted patient.

"Then, Hiroto-sensei—"

Inori held up a hand to stop her as he massaged his temples with the other. There were clear traces of panic in her tone and he didn't want her to start jumping to conclusions before she had the truth. It wasn't a time to be roundabout with it, either, not when it involved someone they were mutually concerned for and letting her know he _was here_ was the first order of business.

"He's here in the hospital. Recovering. His team returned this morning, just a short time ago." He paused to collect himself and prepare an explanation—because he was certain she would bombard him with further questions—but before he could get another word out she immediately turned on her heel and started down the hallway in a rush.

Typical.

He jumped up from his seat and grabbed the doorway to swivel around the corner and stop her aimless venture. "_Wait._"

Her footsteps stopped. She stood still in the center of the hallway, hands clenched, shoulders squared and facing away from him.

"Just where are you going, Namie-chan?"

She exhaled quietly and slowly turned, fixing him with a flat stare as soon as she returned to the doorway. The indignation had drained from her posture. Of course, she knew her intentions, and so did he, but that was pointless when she didn't even know her teacher's whereabouts within the facility short of just barging into every room until she found him. "I don't know."

"Why don't you come in and have a seat." It was more of a mild statement than a suggestion. A promise of providing the information she wanted, from a new standpoint that painted her as someone associated with the patient instead of_ as_ the patient. He watched the girl waver for a brief instant before stepping fully into the office and sliding the door shut behind her. The impromptu visit was almost surreal—it had been years since the last time they were in this room together, and the fact that it lacked the masked third party that was present more often than not made the encounter seem…bare. Out of place. Much had changed in a short amount of time.

But Namie was still Namie. A little quick to jump the gun and prone to putting up a tough front when she was worried, but wearing her emotions on her sleeve and falling victim to them when at a loss. Really, he'd expected to see her the moment the hawks took to the sky to send out messages—or even sooner than that—since she had such a knack for sniffing out disaster that shouldn't concern her whatsoever, except perhaps in a second-hand manner.

She was shaken. He could see that much. She'd rushed right over from some great distance—probably a training ground, if the scuffs and grass stains on her clothes were anything to go by—and her breathing was slightly strained from the effort. Her hands clutched tightly at the edge of her shirt as she sat fidgeting upon the stool.

It was understandable. She'd lost her teammate Ueno Kasuga not even a year before and, even if that wound was healing, it would be ripped open right along with the fresh injury of losing her team leader, if things had resulted in such a way.

Inori turned to the traditional tea set that was placed on a plain tray at the corner of his desk—he'd brewed (and promptly forgotten) a new pot a few minutes before and it was still mildly warm—warm enough to serve to a guest. He didn't bother asking the blonde if she wanted any and poured two cups before silently handing one over to her, which she accepted without question.

"How is he?" she spoke at long last after having stared into the still, calm liquid in the cup gripped firmly between her hands long enough to gather her bearings and clear her mind. She stared directly, unfalteringly, at the blond man, wanting to catch any flicker of hesitation on his face should he try to circumvent a proper answer.

That piercing blue gaze almost made him squirm—he knew exactly what she wanted to hear, but he _did_ have confidentiality clauses to uphold. Hiroto was his patient. He couldn't give out the information so freely, even to his student. Hell, not even to his mother. What he could give away was very limited at the moment.

Namie read his silence as a negative sign. "Is it _that_ bad?"

"No," Inori cut in quickly, holding up a hand to ease the blonde's rising panic. "No. He's stable."

The girl closed her eyes and nodded minutely to show that she understood. He wasn't dead—wasn't in critical condition and on the verge of death or anything perilous like it. She knew the moment she saw Inori that that was the case, but now it sunk in fully, bringing relief. "Can I see him?"

"I'm afraid not. It's better to let him rest for now."

Slowly, she opened her eyes and fixed the doctor with a cool stare. "What happened?"

"I'm not really at liberty to say. But even if I was, I don't know the full story."

"It was—" She caught her tongue and rephrased the question. "Was it a mission failure?"

"I can't say."

"How bad is the damage?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"_When_ can I see Hiroto-sensei?"

"When he's in a proper state for visitors."

His vague answers were annoying, he knew, and by the way the girl's eyebrow twitched, she could only take so much more of it. She opened her mouth again, readying another question, but thought better of it and rose to her feet, setting the ceramic cup onto the desk with a harsh _clink_ that made the tea tray rattle.

Inori made a reflexive grab for the documents spread out across his desk, fearing the tea would slosh out onto them, before stopping himself and aiming a weary glance at the blonde. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, Namie-chan, but try to understand."

"_Understand?_ I get it. You can't tell me anything except that he's alive, right? Because _I_ don't get to know those things." A crackle ran through the air from the sheer intensity of her words. Quiet, but razor sharp.

There was an unspoken significance behind her words that didn't need to be emphasized to be understood, and for a tense moment the doctor feared blowback. The girl was a ticking time bomb in that respect and he _did_ always wonder, deep down, if she resented him and if it took something like this to trigger an outburst.

But her anger was slow-burning. She wouldn't lose her head without good reason and, gradually, as she calmed, the stifling strain on the atmosphere faded out.

"The least you could do is let me see him. For my own peace of mind."

"One week." He spoke firmly, meeting her forceful stare with a stern look of his own.

Her words—those words, that veiled threat—were empty. A desperate scare tactic. He wouldn't allow her to guilt-trip him, but he could make a compromise, because he owed her at least that much since she was Hiroto's student. But even if he weren't bound by profession, as someone acquainted with the girl—as someone who had grown fond of her—and as her teacher's closest friend, the best option for everyone involved was to keep her at a distance for the time being.

"Come back in seven days and you should be able to see him. No—I guarantee it." He watched her expression still before it slowly fell into something disheartened—and then she tightly closed her eyes and her hands trembled before she gripped them tightly into fists at her side. It wasn't another flare-up of her temper, but more of a direct realization that the situation was out of her hands and possibly as serious as she'd initially feared.

"A week, then."

* * *

The Hokage stood silently in his office before the assembly of shinobi he'd sent immediate-response messenger hawks to.

Yuuhi Shinku and the Ino-Shika-Chou trio were all capable shinobi in their own rights. Though the majority was young, they were skilled jōnin he could send to the field with confidence they would return. Two were also slated to proctor the chūnin exams, but with things as they were now, the event would have to be postponed.

"Iwagakure has betrayed the peace between our countries. Our forces are locked in combat with the enemy in Kusagakure. Their current status is unknown. Your four are to locate your comrades and extract them from the battle, should any remain. Do not engage Iwa nin unless you have absolutely no choice." He paused. Reinforced his composure. "If none remain, take a fatality count and return our fallen shinobi to their rightful home in Konoha immediately."

The order was heavy. Each man understood that this was a corpse retrieval mission. Yet they abided their leader's wishes and departed immediately.

Hiruzen allowed his rigidly-set shoulders to sink as he exhaled a weary breath. To live through two wars was more than any person deserved—he began to feel as if a third truly was roiling just out of sight on the horizon, ready to bring with it another storm of pain and loss.

Iwagakure's actions were outrageous.

Foolish and absolutely _infuriating._

So much planning had gone into the event, the negotiations, the careful wording to prevent any disturbances—yet this had been their goal the entire time. They didn't care about petty terms of agreement, or even the peace treaties they were supposed to abide. Perhaps it was oversight on his part, to assume a village that constantly toed the line would behave long enough to engage in _civility._ Yet, even with precautions and preparation, they still faced colossal failure.

That Oonoki—Hiruzen wouldn't be surprised if the old man had been biding his time, looking for the right opportunity to retaliate against Konoha as payback for the end of the war. None of the leaders were happy with that conclusion and the reparations that were made because it all favored the Fire Country and left it standing as the strongest nation among them, even if that was still considerably weak at the time. The Tsuchikage had been most vocal about the outcome and did his best to protest it, but in the end his demands were overturned.

That opportunity originated right on their own backyard, however—the civilian kidnapping incident aided by missing-nin from Iwa appeared to be an isolated incident at the time, and since it took place on their own lands and with shinobi whose ties to their native village had been severed, Iwagakure was not held responsible. Yet, the current situation revealed that the previous event had been most likely orchestrated for the occasion. Perhaps the missing-nin involved were acting as undercover agents, created for the specific purpose of creating conflict between countries. When children were involved and endangered, it didn't take much effort to fan the flames of animosity.

But then came the coup de grace—an ambush using a diplomatic meeting as a cover, which resulted in the deaths of many Konoha soldiers. Even _one_ casualty in foreign territory was enough to warrant direct action against Iwagakure, yet simultaneously it placed Konoha in a precarious position. If the armistice settled in between the two countries was further torn apart, the other lands would respond in kind and it would start off a chain effect that would all but certainly result in a an all-encompassing war.

Simply put, Konoha wasn't in a position to entrench itself in warfare with its forces recovering from the previous war and now depleted to such an extent—and morale was sure to suffer in this incident's wake. Attempts to reach a nonviolent resolution would be made, certainly, but the Tsuchikage was an unswayable brick wall, stubborn to a fault even at the risk of endangering his own people.

They wouldn't come out of war unscathed.

"Sakumo," he spoke at length, calling for his subordinate that delivered the devastating news of the mission failure only an hour earlier.

"Sandaime-sama." Hatake Sakumo flickered into sight before the man, kneeling on one knee and bowing his head in shame. "Allow me to take full responsibility for the outcome of this mission."

"Full responsibility? Impossible. I sanctioned this even knowing Iwagakure operates by a less-than-noble code."

Sakumo looked up. "There is no reason for you to shoulder the blame. I put the safety of my teammates above subduing the enemy and finding a way to complete the mission. I abandoned my comrades in the midst of battle and left several to die in exchange for that. If I'd remained behind to fight, I could have allowed them to escape."

"Your return provided vital information concerning Iwagakure's intents. I put my trust in your decisions and instincts as a mission leader, Sakumo—"

"But there was bias involved, Sandaime-sama. Beyond just saving my teammates, I wanted to return home to see my son. I didn't want to leave him fatherless. Alone. All of that was placed before the mission and there is nothing noble about that selfishness."

Sakumo was a father who would sacrifice anything for his child. When a parent fought for their village, they fought for what resided within its walls—family. Loved ones. Future. Oftentimes, what pushed a shinobi forward was the desire to see their children's faces again. Perhaps it was the fault of being human, imperfect and swayed by familial ties. At one point, Hiruzen was the same. But now, he'd become a man who sent his own son directly into the line of fire for the sake of preserving peace.

When a child became a shinobi, a parent had an obligation to accept the risks involved and the fact that one day, perhaps sooner, perhaps later, they would die. It happened once before. Hiruzen had long since prepared himself to lose another child, came to terms with it and went so far as to distance himself from the familial bond, even resenting it, yet—he felt a sense of relief when his eldest son returned to Konoha and he was able to see his face, see him alive, again and it begged the question—what would he have done if he'd been among those who'd lost their lives in Kusagakure? Or, if he'd been there himself, would he have sacrificed as much for his child?

Sakumo's actions were not wrong. Yet his guilt over the situation and his explanation was also correct. It was a dilemma of human error combined with the duty of being a shinobi who served his country.

Deciding on whether or not to agree with him and hold him responsible for the event provided a similar dilemma for Hiruzen.

Yet, with the current state of peace at risk, there was only one solution.

"…There is no guarantee you could have held off a force so large on your own, even with your talents. There would have been death either way. Now, more than ever, the village needs strong shinobi…and you are one of those."

Sakumo remained steadfast in his decision. "I committed a grave error. Overlooked a vital rule. The village won't benefit from having someone who can't abide by the basic rules."

"I will take responsibility for it. It is my duty as Hokage. If it's punishment you want, I will sentence you with a fitting one—however, _I _will handle the repercussions from this mission."

"The village needs a strong leader now more than ever. If you admit to being at fault, you will be weakened in their eyes. They need you to guide them. Hold me, and solely me, accountable for it and you will preserve their faith in you and keep _them _strong."

"To let one man take the fall for so many lives lost is _madness_—"

"Hold me accountable for it," the white-haired man restated, expression unwavering. "Otherwise, I can never forgive myself." His voice softened, yet the determination in his words remained strong.

There were also stubborn, immovable shinobi in Konoha.

Hiruzen regarded his subordinate quietly, contemplating his rationale. His personal motives. The mission failure weighed heavily on his conscience; the loss devastated him. Never had he seen the White Fang so distressed—no, there was a time. Just one—the death of his wife. Disease claimed her shortly after their son's birth, abruptly, with no forewarning, and in hindsight the loss likely acted as a catalyst that bolstered his rise to fame as Konoha's White Fang with a body count from war that rivaled even the most prolific assassin's. It wasn't an unfamiliar situation.

Hatake Sakumo wasn't a man who acted without reason. He wasn't speaking on impulse, spurred on by his response to failure, no—failure was more common than it seemed, even among perfect shinobi. And to an extent, his plea was correct. He _did_ break the rules that were set in place for all shinobi to uphold. If there weren't consequences, then…those regulations were pointless.

It was a heavy sacrifice for the greater good of the village; becoming the scapegoat was his self-inflicted penalty.

Hiruzen exhaled quietly, closed his eyes.

"I will not make this decision until the retrieval is complete."

It wasn't a punishment he could condemn the man to without further consideration.

**XXX**

Consciousness came and went, like drifting in and out of a fuzzy, formless dream from an uneasy sleep, until it finally latched on and Hiroto found himself fully awake.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed—wasn't quite sure where he was until the scratchy sheets of the hospital bed and the smell of bleach provided an answer.

His eyes roved around the room and registered the familiar, monochrome whiteness of the Konoha hospital, with pale curtains drawn across the windows, stamped translucently with the Leaf symbol the sunlight filtered through.

It was an alien experience. The last time he'd been a patient in a hospital was…quite some time ago. Thanks to a few broken ribs, was it…? He couldn't remember the details. Only that he tried his best to avoid the place since.

There was no pain—it was veiled by drugs—yet his left side was stiff and the same side of his face was as well. Threads pulled against the skin—stitches. The wound must have run deep if chakra hadn't been enough to heal it.

His mind was a muddle, from grogginess, from something else, whatever, and he couldn't grasp why he was where he was now, what led to it.

No—it was slowly coming back to him in fragments. There was a mission. In Kusagakure. An outbreak, and incident, a battle—death.

Failure.

He tried to move, to push himself up away from the bed, but found he only had one good arm to support himself with while the other remained suspended in a sling, feeling oddly like dead weight. Then, the sudden motion made his head swirl with the onset of vertigo.

But the dizziness helped rearrange his thoughts—he remembered it all.

And he had to move. Had to find his team leader and get answers, because there was a point where everything became a blur and he was left in the dark.

"Don't you dare get up."

His head swiveled around—just a bit too suddenly as it creaked with a faint jolt of pain—to see Inori standing in the doorway to his room. He shut the door quietly behind him before approaching and taking a seat on the visitor's stool beside his bed. Didn't bother adding a threat onto his order; didn't need to. He knew better than to go against his friend when he was speaking as a doctor. The blond man set his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, and tapped steepled fingers against his lips as he reached for the proper words to say.

"I'm glad you're awake. How do you feel?"

"Like shit." Hiroto wanted to snap, because it was obvious and the question was irritatingly doctor-like, but the words were sluggish. Slurred. "What happened?"

"I don't think that's true. Not with the last dose you were given." Inori managed a wry smile. "I need to check you over. You've been unconscious for a while."

Hiroto nodded. Didn't quite like the way his question was avoided. "For how long?"

"You were out when they brought you here and mentioned you'd been that way for a good portion of the trip back. You've only been in Konoha for six days, really," Inori replied as he assessed the other man's recovery from concussion, ensuring there were no complications. No—his head was perfectly fine. Maybe he was woozy, but it wouldn't last and would go away with some good sleep that wasn't coma-related. As for the rest of his body…it wasn't the case. It wasn't his area of expertise, but he'd read the evaluation and possessed enough medical knowledge to understand.

Hiroto blinked rapidly as soon as the doctor removed the bright light from his eyes. Paused to rub at one wearily. "…I think I fucked up, Inori."

"Why do you say that?"

"It was my fault this happened." Speaking slowly became easier, even though the words themselves were difficult to say.

"So you did this to yourself, then? I find that ridiculously hard to believe."

"I don'tmean my injuries. The mission, the—" He paused. Met his friend's eyes with a sharp gaze. "What happened?"

The doctor couldn't hold the other's gaze. Let his eyes wander to the opposite end of the room. Really, he'd hoped to avoid being the bearer of bad news. "It's…not good. No one came back alive save for your team. Kusagakure wouldn't even allow us to retrieve the bodies of our fallen. They've allied with Iwagakure, it seems—probably think Konoha is weak."

"This could have been prevented. If I just—"

"Stop. No one blames you. There's…" He caught his tongue. "Well, I'm sure you'll find out soon. For now, you need to recover—only focus on that."

"Tell me, Inori." Hiroto's uninjured hand curled into a fist at his side.

It went against Inori's nature to divulge the information, but when his friend used such a tone, there was no way he could refuse it. The longer it was denied, the more it would burn later on. "…Hatake Sakumo is accountable for the entire situation. There was a public announcement of the incident, then a mass-funeral for the twenty shinobi lost. Rumors started to spread and everyone's diverted the blame to him. He didn't bother to deny them—confirmed them, even. So it's been accepted as truth."

"But _why?_ Why in the _hell _would he—he wasn't the_ only_ one—"

"You and your teammate are nothing more than unwilling victims in their eyes. He was your leader and he made the call."

That was enough.

Recovery be damned—Hiroto pushed himself out of bed in a rush. Intended to go straight to the Hokage, to Sakumo, to whoever, and sort this matter out properly. Just what was that? Who the hell would become a martyr by themselves, without a thought towards the others involved? The ones left out, who had just as much of a hand in the matter. Who deserved as much of the burden.

It made him _furious_.

Inori stopped him. "Sit back down. There's nothing you can do. You can barely stand."

He was right. Hiroto stumbled nearly as soon as his feet touched the floor, thanks to the way it just…wouldn't…quite stay still, swaying beneath him. He slowly sank back onto the thin mattress. Refused to face his friend again.

"People like that…" he breathed out quietly, so quietly it almost went unheard, yet Inori caught the words and made sense of them immediately. "People like that—I can't understand them. Why do they act like it's their sole responsibility? Sacrificing themselves—for what?"

"It's not something we can understand unless we're in that position. Your sister—"

"Don't…talk about that."

Inori nearly flinched at his friend's dangerously quiet tone—didn't mean to say the words aloud, but the situation was so similar—in a way—perhaps it wasn't—but he said them thoughtlessly. It was a mistake.

The two fell silent, reclaimed by a bitter memory they shared—one that shaped them into who they were today.

Hiroto breathed a weary sigh. Put aside his flare-up of personal emotions and attributed it to the medication coursing through his veins, scrambling his logic and loosening his tongue. This wasn't the time to dwell on something that already happened. "Do you know the details?"

The doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed scroll. "This is the official write-up. For your eyes only, burn after reading…you know the gist." He held it out, expecting his friend to take it, yet he remained with his back facing him—faced the window.

Inori closed his eyes briefly before setting the scroll on the bedside table and rising to his feet.

"Inori." Hiroto spoke suddenly, sharply as he heard the man begin to step away, remembering the reason he was in recovery at all.

The doctor paused at the door. Looked back.

"How bad is my shoulder?"

"…Relocation was done too quickly. Poorly." He gently breached the difficult subject. "It caused nerve damage on top of what was already there. Likely irreparable."

* * *

Patience wasn't one of Namie's strong points. Waiting, waiting—she _hated_ waiting. Avoided it when she could, for better or worse.

This time it was worse.

Six days was close enough to a week, she figured.

In hindsight, she should have waited one more, should have waited by Inori's office instead of taking advantage of his absence and wandering the in-patient hallway, but _who_ could possibly sit still after the disaster that occurred over the past week?

It was exactly as she'd feared.

Sakumo's failed mission took place and Hiroto had been part of it. The rising hatred for the once-revered White Fang spread like wildfire, razing his reputation to the ground.

It was worse than she'd expected.

Those words—_irreparable._ _Likely_. It either was, or wasn't. _Likely_ tacked together to ease the blow. Current medical knowledge had only just taken off thanks to Tsunade's contributions, but without the woman herself present any longer, advancement suffered.

Irreparable—_unfixable._ All but assuring him of a retirement notice.

Hiroto's career as a shinobi was finished.

It was cruel. Too cruel.

Run—she wanted to run. To pretend she hadn't heard a thing, but her feet stuck to the floor and kept her in place. Part of her wanted to stay and confirm it—with a tiny sliver of hope that this was the wrong patient's room and Inori's familiar voice just informed another, unrelated person of their bleak future.

But when the door slid open, when the very man caught sight of her standing in the hallway and flinched, froze, glared, then glanced sadly away in quick succession, she knew that wasn't the case. His hand lingered on the door handle, caught between pulling it shut and just letting it go, before he released his hold on it and sighed.

She heard it all. He knew by the way she tried to keep her expression cool and controlled, a calm, unaffected blank—and failed miserably at it. One more day—she just had to wait _one_ more day. This could have been avoided. "Dammit, Namie—"

The girl shoved past him.

"Hiroto-sensei," she choked out in a rush, heart pounding, as she stumbled into the room and stopped a few paces short of her teacher's bed, unable to move a step closer. Too afraid to.

The man didn't move. He sat at the far edge of it with his back to her, and those pale, antiseptic hospital clothes made him look damned _fragile_. That, and the sling, the sense of defeat—the entire scene—was like some strange puzzle patched together out of pieces that just didn't belong.

Or something startling that fit too entirely well because it was something she _knew._

Inori set his hand on her shoulder, urging her back even as she tried to shake his hold off. "You shouldn't be here right now," he stressed. More than anything, Hiroto needed peace—solitude. Time to sort through his thoughts to come to terms with his condition. He didn't need visitors.

"It's fine, Inori." Hiroto's words caused the two blonds to falter. Inori removed his hand from the young girl's shoulder as she paused to swat it away mid-strike, and stepped towards his friend, anxious.

"But—"

"Let her stay."

The doctor idled a moment, silently watching his friend, before giving a slow nod. "…I'll let you two talk, then."

The door sliding shut, clicking firmly into place in its frame, echoed in the tense silence.

Namie sorted through her thoughts, searching for the right thing to say, _anything_ to say, but couldn't quite find the words because many things could have been said—should have been said—yet none were appropriate.

Team One faced a dead end. It was already over. But this wasn't about _that_. This wasn't about her.

This was about Hiroto.

…It was a funny thing—no, perhaps bitter better described it—that two years ago, even a year ago, she wouldn't have cared as much about the man as she did in that instant. Probably would have written it off as something he deserved out of sheer spite. But…he was her teacher. Even among the countless, brazen '_fuck you__'_s and _'you total asshole'_ jabs she'd thrown at him throughout that time, he'd never once abandoned her, and she respected him for that.

No—even before that, when she'd been subject to Inori's surveillance, hadn't he been there, too…? As the man in the monkey mask who'd helped her out (if only once); treated her like an actual _kid_ when she pushed been pushed too far and too hard and got a nosebleed from the mental strain.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary or even commendable because he'd done worse—_it was his fault Minato ever had to find out_—but…that one single moment seemed to stand out now, because he'd shown genuine care in a way that he was accustomed to, as if on instinct, like he'd dealt with children before. Like he had siblings, or—maybe a child of his own. A family. She didn't know—didn't know anything about him, now that she stopped to think about it. Only knew him outwardly as her emotionally constipated jerk of a teacher.

She still wasn't sure of his stance on their previous interactions, what he thought about those days, because it was in the past and she wanted to leave it there; what he'd done for her as her mentor superseded that past. It wasn't something she could just write off and accept because—this was just too unfair for him. And dammit all if she didn't _care._

"How different do you think things would be if I never allowed you on my team?" he asked abruptly, breaking through the silence.

Namie froze. Eyes widened a fraction as she watched her teacher's back, thinking that maybe she'd spoken her thoughts aloud. But she was sure she hadn't.

His tone was level—no different from how he usually spoke. Even after hearing the news. If the question was a reaction, she wasn't sure how to take it. She could only wait for him to clarify his words in silence.

"I've never thought about it up until now. But now I think, if I never met you, if you never stood out so much, I may have reached another outcome. Or, I would be right where I always was. I would still be in ANBU."

He wasn't quite blaming her. The words were cool, unrestrained, painfully _honest_, but he wasn't attributing the grim situation to her. Even if he was, he might have been right.

"I don't regret it. I was the one who chose to oversee your progress. I chose you for my team." His words strained, just barely. "But it can't continue, now. I'm no longer able to teach you."

Namie roughly swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to cry even as her eyes misted up.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find new teammates for you."

Something within her snapped. "_Dammit_, I don't care about that! Why are you apologizing? You—you heard Inori-sensei. Just what will you do now?"

"What will _you_ do now?" He turned the question.

"I'll—I don't know! Don't worry about that. Why are you so _calm?_" The urge to kick the visitor's stool nearly overtook her, because she just couldn't _understand, _but she restrained it and paced forward instead, close enough to face her teacher—and recoiled. The fight fled right out of her the moment she set eyes on him.

Her now-timid stare dropped to the tiles at her feet and she fidgeted, shifting her weight and remaining silent. Her gaze flickered back up to him. She let her eyes wander to the left side of his face, to the sutures that ran the length of it from the middle of his forehead to just above his jaw in a gruesome line.

That, coupled with the sling—_everything_. She'd never seen Hiroto so injured before. So defeated.

And it was stupid, but she'd unconsciously labeled him as someone infallible in her mind, even if she didn't know his fate and it was left to the wind just as Kasuga's was. Maybe that was why she'd been so stubborn in meeting with him after his return, during his stay at the hospital—to see it with her own eyes and make sure it was real, because he could have easily never come back at all.

But…this time he came back. Even with the consequences. He was _alive._

Hiroto subconsciously lifted his good hand to trace the rough stitches for the first time and fixed the girl with a level stare as she averted her eyes in turn. "Do you really think I could be calm about this?"

"I don't…know."

It was a difficult question to answer, he knew. Even harder to ask.

"I'm not," he admitted. "I don't know what will happen next. Not for me." There was no emotion in those words, spoken matter-of-factly, as if the full weight of his condition hadn't completely sunken in yet. "But for you…You need a new instructor as soon as possible. And a complete team."

"But—"

"There's nothing more I can do for you, Namie." He spoke with finality.

He didn't hesitate to cut his student loose and let her go immediately so he wouldn't hold her back. Wouldn't put her through another long waiting period when she could still move forward. Maybe continuing to train her after Kasuga's death had been a mistake. If it _was,_ now was the time to correct the delayed decision. It was better to get it over with quickly.

Namie kept silent. He expected her to storm away in fury with a final, biting comment, yet she didn't move. His gaze wandered over to the blonde and, instead of standing tensely, with shoulders squared, full of pent-up emotion like a balloon filled with so much air it was about to burst, her posture was slumped. Exhausted. Just a touch disappointed.

For a moment, he wished he could have asked about the details of the mission with her brother instead of delivering this heavy news and regretted that it ever had to happen at all because of the misfortune the short-lived team had already undergone.

Slowly, she looked up and met his eyes to speak one of those lies she was so fond of masking as the truth. "…I understand, Hiroto-sensei."

It was total _bullshit_, she wanted to say, because none of this ever should have happened—but it was neither the time nor the place to get angry and lash out, because…it was out of their control. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't her right to tell him he was a fucking idiot for saying (and sounding for all the world like he believed) he'd outlived his purpose as her teacher, not when he was suffering.

She'd come to terms with the fact that Team One was no more—never could have worked from the start. Yet the entire time, she couldn't help but cling to it, to the cherished memories, and hope that one day, as long as even a _part _of it remained, she could regain it, because it was hers. It was something she could call her very own, that she worked for and grew with—part of her family. Part of her life.

"I was glad to be your student. Thank you for everything you've done."

Some things just couldn't last.


	34. Thirty

**Chapter Thirty: Chance Encounter, A Wish Granted**

* * *

There was a reason Namie had come to consider Taji her mother in this lifetime.

She was a pillar of support. Kind and warm and caring, just like a parent—an ideal one anyway. But first and foremost, she was someone she could go to in her times of need, or just any time at all, seeking comfort without needing a reason or feeling awkward because of her moments of weakness. At times like this she could give in to her inner child and whine a little, cry a little more, and vent out her frustrations without feeling guilty, like a burden on others. It wasn't the same with Kushina—it wasn't the same with Minato.

This woman was the closest thing she had to a mother, now.

And, as mothers always seemed to know when they were needed, she showed up at just the right time.

"Namie? What's wrong?" Taji looked down at the child that had flung her arms around her waist and buried her head into her stomach the moment she entered the home—barely had time to take off her shoes, even. She'd only just returned home and had the time to pull her own off when the blonde latched onto her.

She took her gently by the shoulders and tried to pry her away, to get a good look at her face, but she held fast with unexpected strength. Didn't seem to want to let go long enough for them to move away from the doorway and into the sitting room. The tension in the girl's shoulders, rigidly set and trembling, amplified her worry.

"Namie," Taji repeated, applying a bit of cooling chakra to the girl's muscles from her fingertips to calm her as she did her best to stay calm herself. "What is it? Are you alright?"

The girl's grip loosened faintly. Her small hands unwound from around the fabric of Taji's shirt and slowly fell to her sides. She shook her head. Spoke something, mumbled it really, as it was muffled by her shirt. After a moment, Namie took a step back to distance herself and looked up with a blotchy, tear-streaked face and reddened eyes.

"I don't know what to do."

Taji bit her lip. To see the girl in such a miserable state, so lost, was heart wrenching. Whatever the cause of it was. But—she had a vague idea. Rumors were rampant throughout Konoha and she would be a fool to play ignorant. Maybe a part of her expected this situation. This reaction.

"I don't know what to do, Mom," she repeated, unable to control the trembling in her voice. "Hiroto-sensei is—"

It was always him.

"—No. He's not my teacher anymore. He's…he can't be. I don't—_what do I do?_"

She didn't know the entirety of the situation. Only that a vital mission led by the White Fang had met colossal failure and somewhere along the way the events of that mission led to Sarutobi Hiroto's return and subsequent diagnosis along with the impact on the rest of the village.

That man—he seemed to be at the root of her daughter's suffering no matter what angle she chose to view it from. His actions had led to Namie being picked up for training—he was partially to blame for condoning the Yamanaka mind research on her—and it was his decision that led to Namie's teammate dying. Now, whatever he'd done, it resulted in another loss because he was no longer able to follow the path of the shinobi.

Namie was left to suffer because of it.

She was a smart child, Taji knew. Mature beyond her years, most of the time. But also young and painfully human. Inexperienced and naïve to the terrors of this world that not even facing death could cure because there was more to it than just that. She hadn't yet seen war—but soon, just might.

She was hurting. Didn't know what to do—and came to _her_ seeking guidance and comfort.

Taji kneeled down to the girl's level and wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

"…I wish I could tell you." It was an honest response. An echo of the day she'd lost her own teacher—Namie's father—albeit permanently, but that was well after she'd graduated from the genin rank. She didn't need a mentor, then, and had a direction in life. Namie didn't have the same. But that was a different situation and there was no appropriate answer to give to ease her suffering for this sense of loss. She'd already faced so many roadblocks already that it hardly seemed fair, and to give her an encouraging speech to push her forward and keep striving didn't quite seem right when she wasn't fully aware of the circumstances and future that awaited her.

"I don't hate him. I'd never wish something like that on him. If—if that happened to _me_, everything would be over—because what else is there? But he was so stupidly calm about it all that it felt like he just _gave up_ on everything."

_On me._

It went unsaid but understood.

The girl explained the parting exchange where her instructor cut her loose with difficulty—tears pooled in her eyes again and it pained her just to repeat the words.

"I told him I understand, but I _don't_. It doesn't make sense, Mom. He isn't the type to just accept something like that and give up… I didn't think he was. But—I know I can't change what happened and it just sucks. It really sucks."

Namie _did_ know what she needed to do, Taji realized. She understood that the next step was to find placement on another team, with a different teacher.

The problem here was she didn't know what to do about _Hiroto._

Not another word was spoken until Taji moved Namie to the living room, intent on making sure she was comfortable on the couch with a handkerchief to dry her eyes and a glass of water to cool her hoarse throat. When she returned with the drink, however, the girl was fast asleep, curled up against the cushions, worn out from stress. Soon, in minutes, hours maybe, she would awaken again, calmer, a bit embarrassed about her outburst, but probably no less rattled.

The brunette woman leaned down to brush a few flyaway locks away from the child's face, wishing there was more she could do for her. But she could only, truly, be there for her daughter in the aftermath of tragedy. It shouldn't be that way, but somehow it always turned out so.

When Namie was injured—bloody in her arms and barely breathing, for all intents and purposes on the brink of death—a part of Taji died.

But it was for the best. A metamorphosis of the soul.

That day, she'd let go of her trepidation and uncertainty towards the role of mother, and in its place a new, acute sense of responsibility was born.

It was the first time she'd come to understand—in every sense of the word—that Namie wasn't just her ward, but her _child._ Her dear, one-and-only daughter, forged from a bond not in blood but in spirit; the recipient of her unconditional love.

More of her would have died if the girl hadn't made it out of the situation alive.

She didn't realize it most of the time, but Namie was incredibly lucky. If the kunai had pierced her just a nudge to the side, death would have seized her. If she didn't have a knowledgeable medic on her team who was in the right place at the right time (even if his presence led to his own downfall), she would have been left with permanent damage—alive, mercifully, but with handicap.

If Minato wasn't her brother and she'd been on her recent mission with anyone else, she would have been caught in a fatal explosion. But he_ was_ and she was alive, here with her family.

That luck was double-edged, however. In return for escaping most situations unscathed (alive and in good health), she attracted trouble like no other. A difficult life in exchange for the ironclad ability to persevere. Taji knew she would move through this blockade, too, and soon it would be a thing of the past—but she didn't have to do that alone.

She had people who loved her, who would help her through harsh times.

If nothing else, she could do that.

* * *

"You really are a terrible person. It's like you only think about yourself."

Three days. Taji had given Hiroto three days' reprieve before confronting him with the matter. In that time, Namie's confusion towards the situation had waned, but perhaps only because she hadn't spoken another word on the matter since she'd come to her crying. Instead, she busied herself with training and wandering the village. Taji didn't know where she was most of the time, and the girl didn't bother to say. She recognized that she needed time to herself.

But it couldn't go on that way forever.

The hospital room was small and cramped, though it may have only seemed that way due to the tension and the fact that the curtains were drawn, leaving the area dim and depressing. She had the briefest, spiteful notion to open them and let in some light before remembering it was cloudy outside and wouldn't do much good. She settled for leaning against the wall beside the window instead, facing the man as he sat on the end of his bed with an untouched tea tray Inori had left.

The brooding was childish. Like an overgrown boy pouting. Perhaps if he didn't have the responsibility of a student she could forgive him for it, but when a child was involved, there was no excuse. Not with the way he'd chosen to handle things. He knew better than that.

"You were the one who took Namie under your wing—not just once, but twice—and now you won't see it through to the end? I do understand your situation, but what you've done is too cruel." It had been so long since they'd spoken face to face, but somehow it always involved hostility.

Hiroto breathed a dry, sarcastic laugh, but couldn't even manage a smirk at the humorless situation. "I seem to recall you were the one who wanted me to give up responsibility over her only a while ago." And he would have agreed fully, if Namie had wanted that.

"That was then. This is _different_."

"What would you have me do? Saying you understand my situation and then having the nerve to tell me off—you're the cruel one here, Taji-senpai. I don't think you understand at all, medical training aside." She didn't have any business here, not really. Even if she was a distraught mother concerned for the wellbeing and future of her adopted daughter—to him, she was overstepping boundaries and he didn't feel he owed her the conversation. Not this time.

Even if he did regret the sudden decision to dismiss Namie—but only slightly. In hindsight, he knew it would have been better to put a bit more thought into his words instead of speaking the first things that came to mind all right after he'd just woken up—Inori had said as much, too. Even if she'd claimed to understand his reasons, it had been clear by the answer she'd given with that high, brittle tone that she wasn't happy at all with the way things turned out. But even if he'd had a week, a month, to consider it, he would have reached the same conclusion. It was only a matter of putting it off or not to ease the verbal blow.

What was done was done.

Taji's indignant expression remained, but she didn't bother responding to the jab. Instead, she sighed, and with that, a despondent air settled around her. Getting angry was useless, she knew. Because this wasn't about her and her grudge towards the man. "…You won't even talk to her."

"There's nothing else to say."

"You're a spoiled man."

"And you're a persistent woman who's good at wasting effort. It's part of why you could never handle being an ANBU captain."

"Oh, don't you bring that up now—"

"I'm not even sure why you chose the medical field. Your bedside manner is terrible."

"Not as bad as it_ could_ be," she spoke quietly, knuckles cracking as she curled her hands into fists.

At that, Hiroto glanced away with a mild grimace, realizing he might have said a bit much and it certainly would have earned him a slap—or even a punch—from the irate mother under different circumstances.

Taji's temper cooled as well when she realized she'd fallen into one of their old argument patterns when she'd intended not to—especially since he was still in recovery. Grudge or not, he was a patient and she was a medic. And now that he was as he was, it was in poor taste to carry on their minor feuding. She took a moment to breathe and addressed the reason for her visit once again.

"…You won't see her? Just…to explain things better?"

"I won't. I've already said what should be said."

Difficult as always, especially towards the more delicate matters. She didn't expect this confrontation to be easy, or for there to be any progress. But she had to try. "At the very least, you could continue searching for a new team. Leaving that to her alone is too much. You do realize you remain her mentor in records until another is found."

"There isn't—"

"_Don't_ say there's nothing you can do. You know full well there is."

He considered her words. Wanted to object, but knew deep down that she was right. But he wouldn't admit that.

"Just—_please_." The word caught them both by surprise. Taji gathered her nerves and pushed on. "Don't cut her off. It's the only thing I'd ever ask of you, Hiroto."

The weight of her request wasn't something he could ignore.

* * *

Namie was used to being queued up for a new team, but now that she was on her own, the tension of time began to press down on her.

The wait was ridiculous.

Already a week had passed with no sign of an availability—a week she'd furiously blazed through with training that didn't go neglected even with the turn of events. If anything, current circumstances pushed her to work harder than ever so she didn't have a free moment to think about it all.

It was lonely. It was terribly difficult. Each day that passed left her feeling more alone than before, like she'd fallen in between the cracks somewhere and been forgotten.

She didn't want to be forgotten. Not when there was still so, so much to do.

Part of that feeling was her fault, too, she supposed—she'd been training on her own instead of with her friends. But there was a reason for it. Seeing others with their teams, laughing together, working together, striving towards a goal together, was the equivalent of a slap in the face at a time like this.

It wasn't something she needed.

Learning to wield a new weapon on her own, however, proved a challenge.

The mallet crashed against the wooden training dummy in its path with less-than-satisfactory impact even as Namie put her all into the swing—hoped to at least knock off an arm or splinter the body, but only managed to scuff up the surface once again. She sighed and let the weapon rest against the dummy where it landed while dragging a weary arm across her sweating forehead. The weapon itself wasn't particularly heavy in its present state, but swinging it around and adjusting to the foreign weight in her hands brought hell on her muscles after a while.

She sank to the grass and leaned her back against the training dummy pole, taking a moment to let her gaze bounce between the trees in the dense, wooded area spread out before her. Sunlight filtered in through the branches and only a bit of the sky danced about between the leaves overhead; enough to let her know it was still daytime.

It was a secluded, almost suffocating place to train, but that was exactly why she'd chosen it—to avoid people and to get some close-quarter practice. She wouldn't always have an open area to swing her new weapon around, after all. Committing herself to learning its limitations in a narrow, tightly-packed space was essential—a no-brainer, really.

But the best and fastest way to grow accustomed to it was to try using it in real-time. Ideally during a mission.

* * *

"I'd like to be assigned to a solo mission outside of the village." Speaking the words was simple enough.

Getting the higher-ranked ninja to agree wasn't.

The stout chūnin in charge of distributing missions glanced across his desk with great skepticism—and a bit of astonishment—as he observed the runty but tough-looking, glaring blonde to make sure he'd heard right. "Er, uh—Namie-san, was it?" He checked the file just to make sure, noting the surname, and nodded to himself before looking back to the girl with a curious frown. "I'm sorry, but…genin don't usually _get_ solo missions outside, you see."

"D or C rank should be perfectly fine," Namie persisted, crossing her arms and shifting her weight while using a cool, no-bullshit gaze to try and intimidate the upperclassman into handing over a job. "I can handle that much."

"Perhaps, but—" he paused. Was on the verge of asking the girl where the rest of her team was, but had an idea it was better not to ask. Rumors had been floating around for a while and her name did crop up a few times. He wasn't completely sure, but he knew that this girl was on lockdown as far as missions were concerned until further notice. "The fact of the matter is it's just not possible."

Her eye twitched, just faintly—and the chūnin wished he wasn't the only one working the mission desk that day because it was almost a certainty the child would make things difficult and he hated being put in charge of this type of bureaucracy already, especially when kid genin were involved. It was so much easier when the Hokage helped to approve missions. Not so much whining or aggressive brattiness, then.

Sure enough, she dropped her arms to her side and approached the desk with a quick stride, standing as close as she was able while still keeping it between them as a barrier, then lifted a hand up slowly, palm upwards. "D-rank. Outside of Konoha. Even just a short walk away. I don't care."

The man sat up straight in his chair—really just to distance himself from the imminent tantrum headed his way—and shrugged, keeping his composure. "There are no available missions outside the walls at the moment."

"There is an entire stack of documents right there in front of you."

"These aren't—aren't for genin." He grabbed the documents and pulled them further towards his side of the desk, away from the girl as she made to reach for them.

"You have to have _something_ there for me."

She set both of her hands on the desk surface (the potted plant to his left rattled from the firm force of the action), leaning forwards and fixing the man with a fierce scowl, just daring him to deny it. He didn't dare blink. Her brother was much easier to handle, because he was so mild-mannered and barely ever lost his temper (actually never did as far as the man knew) and didn't _demand_ things—and if he thought a little further back, though he didn't know them well, their parents weren't difficult to get on with either. This girl was forged from a different mold.

"I don't," he responded, dreading her reaction.

A growl—yes, he was certain it was a growl—left the girl's throat as she looked for all the world as if she were about to pounce on him and tear her claws into him like a mountain cat, and he was quite certain she would have if not for the fact that an interruption came like a godsend.

"Are you done yet?"

Said girl stepped back from the desk and whipped her head around to seek out the source of the familiar voice, recognizing it without even needing to see him.

"…Kakashi."

The greeting came a beat too late—awkward. The name nearly stuck in her throat, because he was someone she never dreamed she'd be running into anytime soon, given the current state of things. What made it even more uncomfortable was the fact that the silver-haired boy spared her nothing more than a brief flick of the eyes before approaching the mission desk expectantly.

When she didn't see his father—his teacher—following behind, she looked towards the doorway to see if he was hanging back outside, waiting for him to obtain their task. He wasn't.

"Oh, Kakashi-kun. Alone again today?" the chūnin asked, noticing the same.

"It's just me," he confirmed, and Namie couldn't help but notice his tone lacked the usual arrogant, boyish attitude she was so accustomed to when he was present.

He was affected by Sakumo's failure as much as the man involved was. Even before his imminent suicide—but that wasn't strange in itself. He was forced to witness his father's descent into dishonor and, really, the cruel loss of innocence was expected.

But…he was still only a child. The undertone of coldness in his voice was grossly out of place and brought about a brief sense of pity. She quickly suppressed that unexpected feeling and glared towards the chūnin at the desk to take her mind off it, because Kakashi's fate was something she _knew_, something she could _change,_ but… She had no right to feel sorry for him when she wouldn't make a move to prevent it—didn't know how to stop his father's death.

And…his life wouldn't end up as badly as it could have.

_But it could be better._

It would make him stronger.

_But so alone._

Some things were necessary.

_But did they really have to be?_

All she had to do was ignore him and let time take its course.

_But he was only a _child.

"Here's your mission, then. It's a simple D-rank one, close by." The older shinobi intentionally ignored the stink eye the blonde aimed his way when he admitted that there were indeed outside mission orders for genin in his possession. He passed a document across the desk for the boy to pick up.

Kakashi took a moment to glance over the mission objective before nodding. "Right. I'll take care of it and be back soon." He headed for the hallway without a second glance.

The chūnin turned towards the blonde as she watched the younger genin take his leave. "So, you—_hey, wait!_"

His words went unheard, left only to an empty room, as Namie took off after the boy.

She couldn't just leave him alone and do nothing.

* * *

"What do you want."

The fact that Kakashi was being pursued didn't go unnoticed, though he waited to speak until he and the blonde were well away from the administration building and near the village gate. He hoped she was just headed in the same direction and would break away on another path instead of continuing to follow him.

That wasn't the case. He stopped in his tracks as he asked the not-quite question, not bothering to turn towards her as he heard her shoes scuff to a stop against the ground only a few paces behind.

"Uh—" Namie hesitated, and it was so unlike her to miss the chance to shoot a sharp, sarcastic remark, but she quickly covered up the verbal stumble and continued on. "Your mission. You're going outside of Konoha? Let me come along."

"What?" This time, the silver-haired boy turned to narrow his eyes at his former teammate, briefly noting that she'd grown taller since their last meeting—enough to where he had to look _up_ instead of straight ahead now—but that was only an idle, and slightly irritating, thought in passing. "Why?"

Namie shoved her hands in her pockets instead of giving in to her usual habit of twisting the hem of her shirt. She gave a shrug and let her gaze wander towards the skyline, not exactly able to meet his eyes. "For old time's sake."

_Old time's sake_—it was like she'd forgotten just who they were and how difficult it was for them to get along when the others weren't around.

Kakashi closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away the annoyance, then fixed the blonde with an indifferent stare. He had an idea of her reason for approaching him.

There was no telling what the girl's reaction to his father—to him—would be. Since it had come to light, he'd been heckled by the villagers, civilians and shinobi alike; asked just what his father's failure meant to him. What he thought, what he believed—_why_ he stood by his side even now. Questions no one had any business asking or finding the answers to but did anyway because he was young, a child, and they were older and knew better and they pushed their opinions and advice onto him regardless.

It couldn't be that Namie simply wanted to accompany him on a mission. But whatever she had to say about everything was unwelcome either way. Whatever she had to say about _anything_. He didn't want to hear it.

"It's been a while."

Yet she kept talking.

Not only that, her expression changed. Softened into something sympathetic. Pitying him. Just where was her usual inane, intentionally annoying grin—the one she wore when she tried to pretend everything was alright even when things were _not_ alright but used it as a mask anyway. It would have been a better sight than those abnormally saddened eyes, even if it was frustrating.

It was…a change. Over half a year had passed since they'd last spoken and it wasn't strange that perhaps she'd matured a little, _maybe_, but…it would have been better if she had that stupid smile on her face. Something he could justifiably get a little angry at. But all there was now was genuine emotion and a person he wasn't quite familiar with anymore—and she probably didn't even realize she was wearing that kind of expression so openly.

Naturally, he'd gotten wind of what happened with his former teacher—and now_ her_ former teacher as well. Just as he was left to handle missions alone while his father handled his own matters, she was left on her own as well.

…Maybe he'd been wrong to assume this was about him.

It was entirely possible she'd come to him because he was her (only) former teammate and she was at a loss.

Namie's fingers curled into fists within her pockets. A sharp pebble wedged into the pocket lint somewhere from a training session dug into her index finger a bit but she ignored it. Rather, it was more like it was prodding her on to say more._ He_ wasn't saying anything. It was possible that he hated her that much, but she couldn't solely focus on herself, here. He was going through a lot, too. Maybe he didn't talk to anyone these days.

Her thoughts briefly strayed to Might Gai—she wondered if they'd met yet, and if they were friends. Or if he had any classmates to support him, like Rin and Obito. She'd only met with Obito once recently and it was only a chance meeting on the street that didn't pertain to anything happening in the ninja world other than another school test the boy failed (but damn nearly passed). It wasn't strange that the younger age groups didn't know about failed missions unless their parents were hyper-involved with the village news.

The blonde chanced a glance in the boy's direction, forcing herself to meet his eyes, to try to read his expression, his thoughts—whatever.

"I don't even want compensation for helping or anything. I just…want to come along. So? What do you say, Kakashi…?"

For a few moments, her words hung in the air and the two simply stared at each other—harsh against hopeful, both unmoving.

He resigned himself to the fact that she wasn't going to just give up and leave any time soon and huffed out a shallow sigh. "Fine. But don't hold me back." Without another word, he turned and headed towards the gate, leading the way.

Ah. There it was—that sass that made her want to grab him by his ugly, shuriken-patterned scarf and throttle him a little. The attitude that was so like him that tipped them both onto familiar ground.

"As if I _would,_" Namie griped, hurrying after Kakashi and falling into step beside him as they passed the threshold of the gate and entered the forest on the outskirts of the village. As soon as the words left her mouth, she reached for a storage scroll and drew out her mallet weapon, itching for a challenge. "So, what kind of mission is this?"

"Nothing you need _that_ for." He eyed the mallet with a squint, wondering just where she'd picked the thing up but at the same time grudgingly accepting that it suited her. Shinobi weapons ran the scale from typical to pretty outlandish and, all things considered, it was a fairly normal choice. For her, anyway. "A certain pet rabbit escaped through a crack in the wall and it was last spotted out here."

"No way—not the same rabbit we've chased down before?"

"Most likely."

They both fell silent to reminisce one of their first D-rank missions as part of Team One—it seemed so, so long ago. There was nothing particularly memorable about the mundane task itself, but the fact that it involved the complete team was what made it stand out.

Simpler times.

"…I can't believe Kasuga was the one who caught it in the end."

Kakashi's head snapped towards the blonde, eyes wide, upon hearing her speak the name she'd once avoided so naturally, and for a moment he felt like an idiot for reacting on reflex like that. Luckily, the girl's attention was focused elsewhere, far away in her thoughts so she missed it completely.

"Kasuga was good with animals. Good thing, too, since you always scared them away." Even with all that happened, all that was going on, it was strangely easy falling back into the familiarity of the semi-antagonistic interactions with the girl. Maybe because that was the easiest way to speak between them. Something that had once been a constant and—was still there.

…Just because the team was gone, it didn't mean the bond disintegrated with it. Not as long as they themselves remained.

"_Did not_. That was only once!" She sighed loudly in mock-disgust, taking the moment to put her weapon away since it wasn't needed. "I could say the same for you, Kakashi. You're no animal whisperer yourself. Maybe with dogs, but—"

The sound of rustling grass interrupted her words, and the two instantly zeroed in on the source of the noise, preparing to chase down their target.

"Bet I can catch this rabbit before you," the blonde proposed, the usual grin playing at the edge of her lips as two fluffy white ears poked up from beneath the tall grass and into plain sight.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

"_Who_ said I wasn't good with animals?" Namie's voice dripped with over-sweetened superiority as she held the ball of white fluff in her arms as they lingered just outside of the village gates—fortunately, the animal had been caught close by.

On the other hand, it meant they'd chased it quite a distance from their original location.

Kakashi stared at the beady little black eyes and twitching nose—a demonic-looking face, now that he thought about it—before turning his head with a muffled scoff. He would have been inclined to downplay the blonde's victory if not for the fact that they'd both been chasing after the animal for the better part of an hour and were both scuffed up from the endeavor. Not to mention embarrassed—the one time he'd come even remotely close to capturing the rabbit and foolishly made a leap to grab hold of it, he'd ended up face-first in the dirt.

The girl got a grand laugh out of that one. But not for long—she'd been fortunate enough to trip over her own feet and do the very same not a second later.

He found something warm pressed against his chest and snapped his gaze back to the girl only to have the rabbit shoved into his arms. He quickly secured his grip on the surprisingly heavy, wriggling creature and furrowed his brow curiously. "What are you doing? _You _caught it."

Namie breathed out a tired breath before offering him a shrug. "I told you I didn't care about that. It's _your _mission. I only came along to… Well, it doesn't matter." A smile tugged at her lips as the silver-haired boy rolled his eyes.

"…Right." He watched her for a moment, silently, before sighing and looking down the street, to the administration building's direction. "I'm going back to turn this in, then." Probably, she would tag along the entire way back, but maybe—just a little—he wouldn't mind it as much this time around.

And at first, she did. But only for a few paces—then, strangely enough, she stopped. He glanced over his shoulder to see why despite himself.

"This is as far as I go. I forgot, but Mom's making dinner and—I should really help." She glanced down the familiar street that led to her home, expression softening once again in that out-of-place way, before looking to him. And the smugness returned. "Anyway, I'm sure you can handle _this_ much on your own."

"If you say so." He wouldn't even bother humoring her with a sniped response. Kakashi turned to walk away again, but—

"Wait."

—looked her way once again, eyes lined with slight irritation.

Namie reached out to ruffle her former teammate's hair but stopped, and instead let her hand drop onto his shoulder. Her hand was small, but even still, the boy's shoulder was smaller. Almost fragile.

Too small to carry the burden of his future all alone.

Even if she wasn't able to accomplish her original objective here today, first and foremost, she'd accompanied him out of concern. She didn't forget that.

"If you ever need someone to talk to—_for anything_—you can come to me, okay…? I'll be waiting."

There wasn't much she could do to change something that had already been set into motion, but…at the very least…she could be there for him when it all came crashing down.

And now he knew that.

* * *

Hospitals were stuffy.

Hiroto couldn't stand being a patient in one—not only because of how damn weak and vulnerable it made him feel in his time of recovery, but because, even if he walked the hallways as his overseeing nurse demanded from time to time, he was still stuck inside, tethered by a clunky IV stand and the sling that remained around his left arm.

Said arm was useless. After being given the news by Inori, and further counseled on it by the doctor who had diagnosed its condition, he'd come to terms with the fact that it would never move the same way as before, and didn't bother hoping that he'd ever be able to rely on it again for any reason. Even with all the emergency procedures the medics had been able to apply to the limb, it wasn't enough. It was too weak. Not entirely paralyzed, but he couldn't feel half his fingers.

Maybe it was appropriate. Punishment for a poor decision, or two, or three. He didn't know, but it didn't matter now. It was already done.

The hallway he'd chosen to travel was empty. Tired patients were huddled within the few rooms that had open doors, but didn't bother looking up as he walked by. Only two nurses passed him by, nodded their heads or asked him how he was in that cheery, obligatory way they had about them, but aside from those few encounters he was alone. Preferred it that way, mostly.

Inori visited him when he could, but the man was busy. With research, with his clan duties, with his family—Hiroto's mother and younger brother had stopped by twice over the past few days to check up on him, concerning his own family. Namie hadn't been by again since their parting conversation and he only knew about how she was faring secondhand through Taji's abrupt visit some few days before.

But—and he'd had more than enough time to contemplate the conversation, now—he'd come to realize Taji was right. There was still something he could do as the girl's teacher.

Hiroto came to a halt near a large window that overlooked the street outside. Let go of the metal IV pole—that served as a bitter reminder of the favored weapon he would never be able to wield again—and leaned on the sill with his good arm as he watched the slow-moving atmosphere.

The calmness was…refreshing. Trees swaying in the cool autumn breeze, people walking by at a calm, leisurely pace, going somewhere—maybe nowhere. Just going with the flow. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been so easygoing and matched with that sluggish, peaceful pace instead of rushing right through it and missing everything as it passed by. Always, always focused on work, on his duty, on training—when was the last time he just stopped and took a moment to look up at the sky without expecting a message or a threat?

It was slow to dawn on him, but… he wasn't unhappy with the current state of things. Like a heavy weight had dropped from his shoulders. Like he'd been moving too far forward and too fast towards something he couldn't grasp for so long that the weight now anchored him down and stopped him in his tracks.

He didn't need to worry about that anymore.

Giving up wasn't quite the feeling—it was just as if time was finally standing still and he could rest, now, at long last. He could finally take a moment to breathe in the fresh air.

"Hiroto."

A familiar voice—one he didn't expect to hear here, in the hospital, so soon even though he'd requested it—a rough voice congested from years and years of tobacco use that clouded his lungs met his ears, but he didn't bother to turn. Didn't have to. "Hiruzen."

The man breathed a grunt of disapproval at the manner of address as he approached the window and set his hands on the ledge, glancing outside. Kept his attention focused there, as if he hadn't come to converse with his son.

Hiroto knew he didn't mind being called by his name because of his social standing—though if he called him such in front of company it would be a different matter—but he wasn't disrespectful enough to let that slip—but because he never called him "father." Not for a good long while, anyway.

He sent a sideways glance at his father, noticing for the first time how aged the man looked when he wasn't wearing his Hokage robes and hat. Shallow wrinkles marked his stern face, that hadn't been there the last time he could recall, and his hair was beginning to show hints of gray. Just barely, his back was stooped—weary—making him a bit shorter, though he'd never been a tall man. But he'd been Hokage for quite some time. Decades, even (sometimes he found himself wondering why his father hung onto the title for so long). The stress was finally catching up.

It was strange to see him here; they barely interacted outside of a professional setting. Probably, his mother prompted the visit on immediately (and personally, instead of sending an assistant along instead) because it was difficult to imagine the man took it upon himself to visit him in a timely manner.

The elder cleared his throat. "Biwako mentioned you were looking thin, and I can see she was right to be concerned. Are you not eating?" The words were awkward, coming from him. Not quite parental, but still somewhat caring. Rigid. Like he'd forgotten how to speak to the offspring he'd actually fathered after running a village for so long and considering everyone else his spiritual children.

"I don't have much of an appetite these days."

"She's mentioned bringing you a lunch box the next time she visits."

"Jeez…I'm not a kid anymore. Mom knows that." Somehow, their heart-to-heart conversation attempts always hinged upon others in the family. Biwako acted as a buffer of sorts for when they weren't sure what else to discuss, because she was someone they both loved—the one who cared for them and helped ease tensions, smoothed out problems, or lectured them over their petty attitudes. He hoped Asuma would have a better time getting along with their father in the future.

"I apologize for not coming by sooner."

"A tragedy has happened. You've been busy."

"But you were a part of that tragedy."

Hiroto fell silent.

"I'm aware of your condition. Your withdrawal from duty has been put in order." His father spoke the words softly. Clearly regretted having to speak them—to have to see his son go through such a thing. "However, once you've recuperated, you are welcome to work with me in the administration building."

It was a small offer, but it was somewhere to go. He'd never put any thought into an alternate career outside of ANBU or training a team. ANBU was the only place he'd ever aimed to be, really. Stepping down to an office position was so blatantly different from what he knew, what he liked, but it was a start. That was what it was meant to be—a place that would welcome him when it seemed all other doors had been closed. His father was showing, in his own way, that he still supported him. That he didn't want him to run away and hide behind his disability, suffering in silence, alone.

He would offer the same to anyone else who'd received permanent damage. Because he wasn't just _his_ father. He was the leader who looked out for everyone in the village, for better or for worse. Sometimes it was terribly difficult distinguishing between the two. And, maybe, he preferred the man as Hokage instead of as his parent when all was said and done.

"…Thanks. I'm looking forward to that." Still, he was grateful.

The two men were quiet after that. There was nothing more to be said (he knew better than to ask about Sakumo because it wasn't the right time nor place and it was already done), but nothing really needed to be said. They simply stood side-by-side watching the street, watching the people—overlooking the village.

Hiruzen broke the silence. Cleared his throat and reached into his haori for a neatly-folded document, which he handed over to Hiroto.

The younger Sarutobi accepted the document and unfolded it in silence, letting his eyes scan the content. It was as he'd asked for—a form for approving a student's participation in the chūnin exams. In essence, a permission slip to make the decision official, to guarantee placement in the competition even without his presence.

"I'm not certain you've heard, but the exam has been postponed to the beginning of December. This is the first one Konoha has ever had take place so late in the year, I believe," Hiruzen replied. "You should know that as of late, your student—"

_Former_ student, Hiroto wanted to correct him, and he barely recognized how easy it had been to transition from familial interaction to business matters.

"—Namikaze Namie, has caused something of a stir for administration between asking for missions and requesting placement on a new genin team."

That sounded about right. She just couldn't sit still.

"However, I also believe it would be best to push her forward to the exams at this point, with the timing as it is."

Hiroto overlooked the document quietly, finding it almost funny how simple it was to allow the girl to participate in the test. All that was required was a signature and the name of the student. The entry process was so effortless—quite different from the test itself.

He still had some misgivings about how prepared she was. But if she truly wasn't ready for it, she simply wouldn't pass. If she _was_, then…well, she would prove him wrong _and pass._

It was no longer his right to hold her back.

At long last, Namie's wish to participate in the chūnin exams would be granted.

* * *

**A/N:** Some of you have asked about it in the past and wondered when it would happen, so, finally, I can say the exams are here! And so begins a new segment.

As for the update schedule, I don't have as much time as I used to these days (which was quite a bit) so writing happens whenever I can catch a spare moment. That said, I'm aiming to crank out a chapter _at least_ once a month. More if I can manage it.

(And finally, I don't know how many of you already know but I put up another one-shot on my dreamwidth journal a while back. Kept forgetting to mention it.)

Thanks for reading and reviewing! You're all just great.


	35. Thirty-one

**Chapter Thirty-one: The Three Uchiha, Exams at Last**

* * *

_Chūnin._

The word meant the world to some.

To others, it was only a stepping stone—only a pathway to something bigger.

Either way, it was a title that could only be attained through an exam. The gatekeeper rank to success.

Obito wasn't too concerned about things like that. Not yet, anyway. His aim was to become the best shinobi possible—the protector, the Hokage, the top of the ladder—and he was still at the bottom rung looking up, seeing nothing but his goal, sweating the details only when they became an immediate issue.

To even _begin_ climbing that ladder, it was necessary that he reached a level where he wasn't struggling just to pass an Academy test. He'd gotten better with written exams, now that he'd learned he couldn't just go into them day-of without studying and expect amazing results on a mere whim and leaving everything to luck (and since he'd managed to get Rin to help him study). But…practical tests were a different matter. Some, like taijutsu and basic grappling, required more than just training with immobile wooden dummies—he needed actual living, unpredictable sparring partners.

The Uchiha district didn't have many children his age. Most were older, a good few were younger—he found himself in that awkward gap where the former were too busy with their own lives and the latter were too young to stray from their mothers. The older clan kids ignored him and didn't take him seriously and the younger didn't care for him.

But sometimes—and only _sometimes_—he was lucky enough to catch one of his cousins in a good mood. One of his _shinobi _cousins.

Not to mention a bona fide _chūnin._

And he managed to catch him just as he'd left his home, barely a few steps away from the front door.

"What do you need, Obito?" the older boy asked without a trace of curiosity in his voice, but rather something closer to obligation. Not warm, like an older sibling's question, but blank and unaffected, rooted in the fact that his parents were the young boy's primary caretakers after his grandmother passed away. Unlike the others he called 'cousin' in the way of respect and clan affiliation, this boy was the genuine thing since their mothers had been sisters. Far from familial, though. More like an older neighbor who saw him as nothing more than the annoying kid next door.

And Obito was well aware that his cousin didn't see him as anything more than an idiot Academy kid, even if he never said so out loud. Didn't need to. He barely batted an eyelash when he'd been involved in the kidnapping incident.

But, still, he was someone who could help him out. Someone capable.

He eyed the older boy's green chūnin vest with slight envy, and a little bit of awe and respect, as he searched for words. "Um—I was just wondering, d'you think maybe—if you have the time today—you could help me train, Kyouya?" Asking was difficult. Seeing the way his cousin's eyes just barely resisted the urge to roll skyward at the request was enough to make him regret mustering up the courage to ask in the first place because he'd caught him at a bad time. Just his luck.

The chūnin crossed his arms and gave the younger boy a long stare, face a careful mask as he formed a response. "Maybe."

Obito's eyes brightened. "Really—?"

Kyouya quickly interrupted before he got his hopes up too high. "Not making any promises. But…maybe. If I have time later." A slight smile quirked the edge of his lips. "And if you can answer a question for me."

"Yeah, yeah, anything!" He didn't bother trying to conceal his giddiness at the unexpectedly positive reply. His hopes were up too high to dash now, even if he might end up being disappointed later.

The chūnin offered a slight grin, not caring in the least that he didn't intend to live up to his possible promise. "Good. Then, your little blonde friend—the genin. Where exactly does she live…?"

He didn't stop to think about how odd the question was. Didn't need to stop and think about who his cousin was referring to, either, since he currently only knew one blonde. He seized his chance, no matter how slim it was, and told the teenager what he wanted to know.

It wasn't until a little while later that the conversation struck him as strange.

* * *

"Hey, Obito-kun, have you seen Kyouya around?"

Only a few minutes passed before he was approached by two familiar Uchiha genin—more cousins who were on the nicer side compared to the chūnin in question, as well as the two former teammates to said boy. But they weren't by any means people who would approach him under normal circumstances.

_Weird._

He shrugged. "I did. Saw him a few minutes ago. Why?"

The kunoichi—he couldn't quite remember her name, much less the other boy's—breathed a quiet sigh. "He was supposed to wait for us. We were all going to meet our exam teammate together."

"Why does he have to go? Isn't he already a chūnin?"

"He's probably worried we'll like the new one more than we like him," the male genin said wryly, looking unconcerned as he stifled a yawn and stretched his arms above his head. "But that doesn't mean he can just take off and ditch me and Kohaku."

Obito reached up to fiddle with his goggles as he glanced in the direction he'd sent his older cousin, going over the facts in his head, knowing something didn't quite make sense but not knowing exactly what. "He was looking for someone." He glanced up at the two, attention shifting between their expressions as he wondered if they could make any more sense of it than he could.

"Someone? Who? _Why?_"

"Uh, my friend. Namie-senpai. Not sure why …" the boy's voice trailed off.

The two genin exchanged a quick, sharp glance upon hearing the name.

"Hibiki, you don't think—"

"Would he—?"

"There's no way he _wouldn't._"

Grim dread—no, rather, something closer to exasperation, overtook the teenagers' faces as their shoulders slumped and they both shook their heads in a comically coordinated manner.

"Obito-kun, you said she's your friend, right? Mind taking us to where you sent Kyouya?"

The young boy nodded and raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sure, what's this about, though?"

Kohaku offered him a nervous half-smile, averting her eyes. "Nothing much, really, well…" She hesitated, giving a vague shrug.

"She's going to be in trouble if we don't get to her first," her teammate replied.

* * *

The training ground was deserted, save for the wooden training dummies scattered about the bare dirt patches that dotted the grassy, tree-lined plain.

Namie strained her ears, squinted her eyes and scanned the still area for signs, wondering if perhaps she'd mixed up the meeting place, and pulled the note from her pocket to double-check its message. No, she discovered, it was the right place—only, no one was there to greet her.

'_Some new team._' Her lips twisted into a faint scowl. She rolled her eyes and shoved the scrap of paper back into her coat pocket. Maybe it was meant as a joke, for the way it was delivered—not even straight to her hands. The moment she'd opened the front door to leave her home that morning, a paper note tacked to its wooden surface caught her eye, with a message scrawled with a quick hand that requested she be at this particular training ground at noon to meet her temporary teammates. And here she was at no later than five minutes after the specified time, doing exactly as it instructed, with no response whatsoever except to make her feel like an idiot.

If they really wanted to get acquainted so badly, they could speak with her face-to-face next time.

Namie prepared to leave, but the moment she shifted her weight to turn, she felt a minute change in the cool winter breeze and it raced through her veins like an electric jolt.

She moved on instinct—and the instant she ducked down, three cold, gray shuriken whirred over her head, cutting through the space where her back had been just before, and plunked silently into the hard ground in front of her. They dissipated into puffs of smoke upon contact that proved they never had the intent to harm her from the start. Clone weapons.

Then, almost so quietly that she couldn't hear it—but not quiet enough—the sound of shinobi sandals touching the ground directly behind her met her ears.

She didn't wait to make a move. Didn't even waste the moment to breathe and instead moved with the adrenaline upshot. She spun and swept her leg out to catch her assailant's ankles and knock them down—met only air. They, or rather, a young male clad in one of those ugly, puke-green chūnin vests, jumped up to clear the kick and now remained suspended midair. Namie straightened from her crouch and found the hard steel of a kunai clutched between her fingers almost before she'd realized the motions, and thrust it upwards towards the boy to meet him as he fell, plunging towards it.

The tanged, harsh keen of singing metal filled the air as he parried her blade with one of his own—a katana once sheathed at his hip. But only half-drawn. Soon, it would fully escape its scabbard and he would be armed. Before it came to that—

Namie abandoned her kunai and grasped for the scroll that held her mallet—and soon, its wooden handle rested between her hands. Just at the right time to block the sword that clashed against it, sending the reverberations of battle through her arms that were distinct from those that arose from hitting a solid, unmoving target.

This was the first time she'd brought her mallet into active combat.

And she had the upper hand.

The boy's katana became lodged into its surface the moment it struck the bulk of the mallet's head. Namie took the chance to wrench the weapon from his hands and, as its hilt jerked away from his hands, she aimed her heel high, for his jaw.

He blocked, catching her foot with his hand, shoving her back. She lost her balance in a cold sweat, but briefly, and in that instant the chūnin lunged for his katana and grasped its hilt, pulling it free from the mallet and leaving behind a shallow mar.

Namie found its point only inches from her throat and remained still at its mercy.

This wasn't a death match—that, she knew. The boy was also a Konoha shinobi and he wouldn't harm a comrade. Now, it all made sense. _He_ must have called her here to spar, to test her mettle. And she wouldn't disappoint, because just _who_ was he to come and judge her, to solicit her skills?

No, she wouldn't let it end that easily. She'd turn the tables and make him wish he'd never thought up such a stupid idea, because just what did he have to do with any of this?

Her pulse hammered in her throat as she clamped both hands tightly around her mallet and pushed her speed to its utmost limit, swinging the weapon upwards to collide with the katana and knocking it off course, out of the chūnin's hands completely—not even flinching as its sharp tip scraped the underside of her jaw on its way skyward.

Now, he was at _her_ mercy, unarmed, and if she'd been willing, if he'd been anyone else besides a Konoha shinobi, she would have taken the chance, seized his vulnerability and crushed him as he stood in a state of shock, wondering just what happened when he'd been in the position of victory only moments before.

_Hesitate a moment and the window of opportunity is gone. _

A smirk twisted her lips at the sight of his stricken face, at the sight of his sword pinwheeling through the air and into the bushes behind them—but the moment of triumph was short-lived.

The instant the sword lodged itself into the foliage, a sharp, startled cry rang out, and the bushes trembled, shook, leaves mixing together and brushing against each other before a body ambled out from their cover, rushing forward a step, two steps, then falling down.

Namie's eyes widened.

"_Obito?_ What are you doing here!?"

The mallet fell from her grip as she rushed to the small boy, dropping down to his side and checking him over for injuries because—god—if she'd hurt a _child_ with her stupid pride, she didn't know what she would do, how she could live with it—but he was unharmed save for the leaves and twigs caught in his messy hair and the dirt smudged on his face. No blood in sight—the blade missed him by a mile and remained stuck in the ground only a short distance away.

A shaky grin rose to his lips as he looked up at the blonde through his goofy, oversized eyewear.

"Uh—well—I just wanted to see what Kyouya was gonna do. It's kinda my fault he found you, Namie-senpai."

"Kyouya?" Namie repeated idly, too relieved that the young boy was uninjured to really pay his words much attention. But, obviously, that was the name of her attacker. When she realized this, her gaze snapped towards him—he'd walked past them to retrieve his katana and pulled it from the ground, sheathed it, before paying them any mind again. "You know him? You two know each other?"

Obito gave a small nod as he absentmindedly picked a twig away from the lens of his goggles. "We're cousins."

Namie craned her neck to shoot a leer at the older Uchiha, immediately noticing the similarities between the two from their facial shape to their matching eyes. But, instead of messy, spiky hair, the older boy had straight, dark hair that just brushed the edge of his hitai-ate. And he wasn't nearly as friendly as Obito.

"I didn't think you'd find out so soon." He didn't seem to be speaking directly to the boy, nor to her, really—but towards the shrubbery near the tree line. An amused grin played at his lips and his eyes creased into crescents as he stared at the same spot and crossed his arms, unmoving.

For a brief moment, Namie doubted the chūnin's sanity—but then, when two figures rose up from hiding and entered the clearing to join them, she realized he was perfectly sane. Not that it provided any useful answers. "Just what the hell's going on here?" Her eyes darted between the matching clan symbols their clothing sported—and if that didn't just piss her off more. They were all _Uchiha._ Should have guessed from the chūnin's personality.

"Sorry…we should have interrupted. We really should have," the girl spoke up with an even, strong voice that held undertones of authority despite her calm words. She fiddled with the end of her dark braid as her sharp eyes flicked between the blonde and the chūnin.

Namie grit her teeth. "Forget that—what about Obito? He nearly got skewered by this guy's sword and you didn't make a single move!"

"I pushed him out of the way," the second newcomer volunteered in an apathetic voice tinged with exhaustion as he raised a hand casually in the air and shrugged. Didn't seem to care much at all whether he'd done anything helpful or not.

"Who in the hell—" she paused. Let her teeth clack together as her mouth closed. Took a moment to cool her nerves. "No, forget it. You two must be my exam teammates—and this guy here? What, he's your other teammate, right?" Her upper lip curled into a sneer as she shot a glance to the chūnin. "And this was some kind of stupid test to see if I'm worthy." Pausing for a moment did nothing to ease her temper. Her eyes blazed as she glared at the oldest boy, and her fingers curled into tight fists against the dirt. So far, none of these Uchiha shinobi cast a decent impression.

Obito noticed the shift in her demeanor and leaned away slightly, too uneasy to speak, but keeping his eyes focused on the four shinobi before him regardless. This was a different world he'd entered, here—and he didn't have a place to speak. Not yet.

The Uchiha kunoichi stepped forward and knelt before Namie, holding her hands up in apology. "Please, let us explain—er, well, let Kyouya explain. He's an idiot, but he means well. I'm certain he wouldn't have hurt you—or Obito-kun." Her dark eyes hardened and she lifted her chin, sending a harsh stare towards the boy in the vest. "Please, tell us all just what was going through your head when you decided to attack Namie-san."

"You know exactly what," the chūnin, Kyouya, answered unenthusiastically, giving a shrug. "This is the second round of chūnin exams for you two—and since I'm not going to be there to make sure you two pass this time around, I have to make damn sure the girl who's filling my spot _won't hold you back_."

The two Uchiha genin fell silent as they exchanged a long, and somewhat cowed, look.

Namie took advantage of their lapse and spoke in their place. "And? What's the verdict, according to you?"

Kyouya's slanted eyes fixed on the small, frowning blonde kneeling beside his cousin for the first time since their spar, and not a flicker of emotion could be found on his face. "You surprised me."

"_What?_"

"You're not what I expected. I…can't say either way, but I'm not unhappy with the results." The tension from before dropped away as a genuine smile formed on his harsh, but not unkind, face.

Namie released a quiet breath—one she'd been holding since this entire ordeal began—and as it clouded in the frigid air around her, she felt her ire disappear with it. Her shoulders slumped and she lifted her hand to prod at the shallow cut on her chin. Only a slight smudge of blood transferred to her fingertips, and she stared at it for a moment before nodding. "Glad to hear I _passed_, then." She couldn't be upset, really—if she'd been in his place, if it were her teammates, she would have done damn near the same thing.

Teammates were precious. She knew that.

"Honestly," the older girl spoke up, approaching the chūnin. "I don't know why these crazy ideas run through your head, but I'm glad it turned out well in the end." The moment she reached her teammate's side, however, her hand curled into a fist and she socked him on the arm. "Now, apologize."

"_Apologize?_ What did I do?" Kyouya threw his arms out, at a loss. Offended. But his teammate was set on her request, setting her hands on her hips and staring him down like an older sibling. Despite being a genin, not the highest-ranked in the team, it was clear she was the one who held the role of leadership among the three.

"You only attacked a child. Say you're sorry and leave us to it. She's our teammate, now. Not yours."

While the two spoke, the other Uchiha approached Namie and Obito and held his hand out as an offer to help them up. "He really does mean well. No hard feelings?"

Namie gave him a long, even stare as soon as she was on her feet—was only barely conscious of the fact that Obito remained near her side and not any of theirs, despite the fact that they were all allegedly family. "None," she replied.

"Then, it's good to meet you, Namie-san. I'm Hibiki, and that girl is Kohaku. We're your exam teammates." He provided the explanation even though it wasn't needed.

"Yeah…good to meet you, too." She watched him for a moment, observing his sleepy appearance—rather than just _sleepy_, though, he seemed as if he suffered from insomnia—and short-cropped, mousy hair. It was difficult getting a read on him, on any of them, but they weren't the worst she could end up with. She gave a small nod before returning her attention to the boy at her side.

Obito caught her eye and glanced up, fidgeting with his goggles as he pushed them up on his forehead. He offered a sheepish grin. "So, uh, Namie-senpai, you're taking the chūnin exams?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Remind me again how you ended up here?"

Before he could answer, he was snatched up by the back of his navy shirt and lifted into the air, left flailing. "That would be thanks to me. I should take this runt back to the district. Oh, and…sorry about all this. I guess." Kyouya gave the blonde a narrow stare as he tilted his head up to put himself in a position of superiority—even though he was already a good deal taller than her as it was. Namie couldn't help but roll her eyes at the insincerity of the apology.

She didn't like the way he treated Obito like a sack of potatoes, either. The boy went strangely quiet when his cousin's attention was on him—like he was afraid he'd done something wrong. Not to mention his eyes were red and watering—but it might have just been from exposing them to the cold. Either way, this guy was already the epitome of asshole Uchiha and he didn't look like he'd even passed puberty. Some cousin.

"He can stay. I'll, I dunno, bring him home later." Her expression hardened as she stared the older Uchiha down, feeling a spark of challenge towards him as her stubbornness took over.

Obito's face brightened in surprise. "Wha—really?"

Kyouya turned, eyeing the blonde tiredly. "He'll only get in the way."

"He can stay a while," Kohaku piped up, her former frown at her teammate's lackluster apology quirking up into a slight smile. "There's no problem with it. Right, Hibiki?"

"Right. It isn't like we'll be doing any more fighting today. It's basically a meet and greet."

The chūnin grumbled something under his breath and shrugged before dropping the boy back onto his feet. "Whatever. Have fun babysitting, then." Without another word, he body-flickered away.

"That guy…" Kohaku pursed her lips and shook her head before looking towards Namie with a smile. "Well, let's get down to team business, then. How about we tell each other a little about ourselves…?"

* * *

Kohaku and Hibiki weren't nearly as bad as their teammate, Namie came to understand. A little serious, but driven. Neither were saddled down with a superiority complex like the chūnin and had the capacity for understanding each other. Had a genuine interest in others. Still a bit of a mystery, though. And, as promised, there was no sparring that day, but it was only the first of several more training sessions to come—the exams _were_ looming ahead, but there was still adequate time for an adjustment period.

"So, those are your cousins?" Namie asked Obito as they left the training grounds and headed towards the Uchiha neighborhood. Her new teammates went their own way to meet friends and, as she'd said, the blonde intended to see her young friend home. "How many of those do you have?"

"Well, I _call_ 'em cousins, but Kyouya's really the only one related by blood. I mean, there's a couple more, but I barely see them. 'Cousin' is kind of a term to call anyone. It's a clan thing you wouldn't understand, Namie-senpai." He shrugged.

"Right," she said quietly, and she wouldn't object because it was true. Her current family was limited to a very tight circle of Minato and Taji in terms of blood relations. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins—they'd never entered the picture because they were either dead or didn't exist. Even before, when she'd _had_ extended family, she was never close with them. Being part of a large, interrelated clan was something she could only imagine. "Can't say I'm jealous."

Obito grinned and folded his hands behind his head. "You're lucky, though. You've got a brother, right?"

"Yeah," she replied, briefly caught off-guard. Minato would eventually become the boy's teacher—but that was a ways away. She was quite sure they hadn't directly met yet, either, and he only knew about him from idle remarks she'd mentioned in the past.

"Sometimes I wish I had some siblings, too."

Even with such a large family, he was still alone. Lonely.

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right? Any time you wanna hang out or somethin', just ask. And there's Rin, too, and…" she paused. Was about to mention Kakashi, even jokingly, but those two weren't exactly what one could consider friends. Aside from Rin, even, she wasn't sure if the boy _had_ any other friends. Even being in the same year, with the same classmates, kids who would grow together and become shinobi together…he wasn't a part of that, either. Somewhere along the way, he'd missed out on it all.

Obito didn't seem to notice the way her voice trailed off, and, if anything, looked happier because of her offer. "Thanks, Namie-senpai! Sometimes you act the same, but you're a lot nicer than Kyouya, y'know?"

Namie stuck her tongue out. "Don't compare me to that guy."

"He promised me he'd train with me today after I told him where you lived, but…I knew he'd probably just blow me off."

"Ah, so that's how everything started, hm…?"

"Y-yeah. Sorry!"

"It's fine. He'd just find me another way if you weren't there to tell him."

"Prob'ly would."

Their conversation drifted into idle talk after that; about the Academy, training, Rin, and an entertaining, spiraling speech of just what the boy would do when he became Hokage. It was naïve, full of dreams and fitting of a child, but she wouldn't criticize it because, given what she already knew of the ones to come, having someone like Obito as a leader might not have been so bad because he honestly cared. But he never had a chance.

She stopped just outside the entrance to the Uchiha district, and Obito stopped waxing idealistic mid-sentence when he noticed she was no longer at his side.

"Namie-senpai?"

"Looks like they're monitoring visitors today. Think I'll leave you here." She jerked her chin pointedly toward the open entryway where one of the military policemen stood with his back to them. Her eyes wandered to the distance, then, noticing the watercolor state of the sky as the sun sank and it splotched orange and yellow closer to the horizon while indigo streaked down from above. She didn't mind the gate-keeper system, really—she was making an excuse, more than anything, because there was somewhere she wanted to be before nightfall.

Obito's shoulders slumped as he cast a moody glance over his shoulder at the policeman and a frown flickered across his face before a smile of understanding took its place an instant later—a quick switch-up only fickle children were capable of. "Alright. Thanks for hangin' out with me today!"

"No problem." The boy turned on his heel and jogged into the neighborhood, only pausing to wave after he passed the gate, paired with a bright, toothy grin. He'd already resumed running and didn't see, but the blonde's lips curled into a smile as she returned the wave.

* * *

Namie found herself in a familiar place after following a familiar path and there, just there, at her feet, rested a small, clean, slate-gray gravestone. It was well taken care of, she was glad to see—but that was only natural, when parents were left behind to look after their young son's resting place. A small bouquet of fresh, pure-white little flowers kept the small marker company, not a petal out of place. She didn't suspect they would last long in the chilled beginnings of winter, but the fact that they were there at all meant someone was frequenting the site to replace them.

The burial grounds were barren, silent, cold and gray. One other visitor, and elderly man, had been present a few stones away when she'd arrived, but he'd since completed his mourning and had gone, leaving nothing behind but her and the dead.

She knelt down beside the gravestone, setting her hands on her knees and reading over the name chiseled into its surface, over and over, seeing but _not_ seeing. Too caught up in her thoughts. Trying to figure out what to say over the faintly bitter melancholy that still remained even though she'd come to terms with his passing. It wouldn't ever go away, not really.

This—the chūnin exams—it was where _he_ should have been, too. Her team should have been there with her.

Even so, it was like a dream that the opportunity was finally _here._ It was like a dream, having the chūnin exams so, so close and within her reach. She'd believed in Hiroto's words—even if she was bitter about it—that she wouldn't come by the opportunity to participate for at least another year. But here it was.

…If only unfortunate circumstances hadn't been the catalyst to bring it around sooner.

She was surprised, when the Hokage's staff summoned her to the administration office and informed her of their leader's decision, and even mentioned that Hiroto sanctioned it. She'd thought to go and visit him before the exam date came around, to ask him _why_ when he'd been so against it before—maybe to thank him—but it didn't feel right.

She wasn't going to just abandon him since they were no longer part of a team. It was just...if she was going to take the chūnin exams, it was better to meet him _as_ a chūnin the next time. To let him know that none of this was in vain…

Somehow, Namie's visit to Kasuga's grave began with those exact words, all spilling past her lips in a jumble. It wasn't what she'd intended to say, but she found herself speaking them nonetheless. Telling him of how Hiroto ended up an early retiree, how Kakashi transferred to train with his father, how his father's reputation was in shambles, and how…she'd ended up here.

How she would definitely become a chūnin because of it all. She wouldn't waste the chance, because so much had been built up and broken down to get her where she was.

She shared with him her impressions of her exam teammates, including their chūnin teammate—all teenagers, all a bit awkward. The girl, Kohaku, was the second-tallest of the group and stood with poise familiar of someone who had a refined upbringing—it commanded authority. Even with Kyouya as the chūnin, and despite the cheerful, casual way she spoke, it was apparent this sharp-featured girl was the trio's leader. Hibiki, the shortest, perpetually looked exhausted to the point where he could keel over asleep at any second, yet the drowsy eyes set in his round face glinted with shrewd caution. Neither wielded a weapon as openly as Kyouya's katana, but as Uchiha, she expected they were well-versed with their clan dōjutsu, genjutsu and fire ninjutsu. Even for genin taking part in their second run of the chūnin exams. And Kyouya—all the detail she spared for him was that he was a moron with his head up his ass.

But she could already tell the hodgepodge team was fluid, like a well-oiled machine without any hard stops or jerky motions. No rivalries had the potential to emerge, because they shared a common goal. They had the potential to be a cohesive unit.

"It's something new," she concluded, rising to her feet. "They're different. But we'll do well in the exams. And…" her voice trailed off and she bit her lip. "Next time I come to visit you, Kasuga, I'll be a chūnin." It wasn't up to her in the end, she knew, so she wouldn't promise it. Couldn't. Could only do her best to ensure it happened. And by the steeled, certain look in her eyes, anyone would believe it.

* * *

But that was easier said than done.

The day of the chūnin exams had finally arrived—bringing about a whole other set of problems.

One being that Namie managed to oversleep on such an important day.

She hadn't slept in or overslept in any sort of manner ever since her training days with Kushina when the redheaded whirlwind acted as her own personal, slightly-violent alarm clock that would hit back if she ever lashed out. She'd conditioned her to wake up _when_ she needed to thanks to numerous buckets of cold water and flipped mattresses.

She rushed from her bedroom in a flurry, barely sparing the time to pull her clothes on straight and situate her ninja gear appropriately, never mind checking that it was fully stocked.

She rushed from her home in a hurry, barely sparing Taji and Minato words of farewell as she skipped breakfast completely and took off running for the Academy for the written portion of the exams. Late meant disqualification, after all—she couldn't face the humiliation if she managed such a colossal failure before the test even _began._

Ten minutes.

She had _ten minutes._

It would take her near the entire time to reach the school building without using the extra speed of the body flicker technique (conserving energy was key, here—she had to save it for when she needed it), and the pressure left her scrambling through the streets, dodging and evading little old ladies toting shopping baskets, children playing ninja, and merchant carts stuffed full of merchandise.

Shortcut—if she wanted to make it there with a little time to spare, she would have to take a shortcut, and she knew of a few. Just before she collided with a pair of chatting civilian ladies taking a leisurely stroll, she hurtled around an alleyway corner and sprinted through the narrow space, not minding the dead-end wall ahead one bit. The moment she reached it, she easily scaled it and ran up, up, up, until her foot hit its edge and she leapt over it, ducking a line of damp laundry, and landed on a low roof beyond. And she ran like there was no tomorrow, feet clattering along the icy tiles as quietly as possible with the addition of a little chakra to keep from slipping.

The outline of the Academy came into view as she vaulted from rooftop to rooftop and slowly distanced herself from the congestion of the residential area—soon, very soon, she would run out of buildings as a way of travel and would have to return to the ground to sprint the rest of the way to her destination. With as fast as she was pushing herself, it happened all too soon—she prepared to jump as her foot reached the end of the final rooftop, but in her rush, her timing was off. She cut off the chakra flow just a bit too soon, and her heel landed too close to the edge—slipped right over, sending her stumbling. Her hand shot out to grab onto the eave she'd been standing on, to slow her fall and regain some control, but the cold roof tile she snagged snapped under the weight and she freefell the three-story length of the building before landing in a startled housewife's dirty laundry basket filled with dusty curtains.

"Sorry, sorry!" she yelled out as she untangled herself from the mess and rushed towards the street, ignoring the woman's cries of outrage from the dust cloud left behind.

She didn't have time to stop.

This was the final stretch. At the end of the road, all she had to do was turn left and the Academy would be right there waiting.

But—halfway down that road, she found herself unable to continue. Dug her feet into the ground and came to a forced halt as she found someone blocking her way.

* * *

"Where exactly is Namie-san?" Hibiki asked from his spot leaning against the Academy building, idly eyeing the streets for any signs of the little blonde before turning his gaze to his teammate.

Kohaku shifted on her feet and tapped a finger to her lip, brow furrowed in concentration as she, too, scanned the grounds outside of the Academy. Aside from them, all but two of the participating genin had already made their way into the exam room and voices carried through the windows—voices that slowly began to ebb into silence as the seconds ticked by and everyone settled into test mode.

It was where they should have been.

But…it wasn't that there was anything strange about the tardiness, she thought as she subtly eyed the other team standing a few paces away. They were just as worried about their missing teammate, speaking in low, hushed tones and seeming to be on the verge of leaving and searching for their comrade.

Kohaku noticed the pattern soon after arriving—the genin around them were all lacking a teammate when they entered the school grounds. However, it didn't take any of_ their_ missing members this much time to turn up. Rather, it reeked of something contrived—most likely part of the exams. Something like, 'target the weakest shinobi of the team (and it wasn't that she considered the young girl weak, by any means, because she could subdue her with taijutsu and that mallet of hers any day, but…she could only assume others thought her age made her an easy target) and if they fail to arrive before the test starts, the entire team fails.'

It wasn't unfair, by any means—testing their merit based on the least experienced genin was an easy way to cull the competition pool and shape the exams into something more manageable.

"There's no reason she wouldn't be here. Something had to have happened. It's definitely not intentional," she defended, giving a helpless shrug.

Hibiki gave a quiet sigh, following the dark-haired girl's gaze to watch the streets again. It was impossible to enter the exam room without all teammates present. If they missed the deadline, that was it—until the next testing period rolled around. But who wanted to wait for that?

As if to confirm this, one of the test proctors stuck his head out past the doorway and spoke a bit urgently. "Do you still plan to participate? There's just five minutes until we begin. If your teammates don't arrive soon and you genin aren't in the room before the door shuts, I'm afraid your teams will lose their place." The lanky shinobi watched them all for a moment to make sure his words registered.

Kohaku opened her mouth to respond briskly that that wouldn't be the case, but someone else spoke first.

"_Pass._ We'll pass—take the next one."

The spark of irritation faded. She looked to the other team and studied their resigned faces as they nodded at the proctor and turned to leave with an air of defeat.

The shinobi sighed and scratched at his sandy-colored hair before looking down at the clipboard in his hands, scanning it for names, and scratching three out. "Well? What about you two?" He sent a curious, expectant glance towards the two Uchiha and kept his pen poised over the clipboard, ready to take them off the list as well—to just write them off as he had with the others.

It irked her.

"We _will_ be there." This time, Kohaku didn't wait a moment to respond. Spoke with enough force that the proctor straightened in surprise and set the pen down.

He gave a slightly jerky nod. "Alright, then. Remember—five minutes. We won't wait a second more."

"She'll be here," Kohaku repeated under her breath as the older shinobi retreated into the building. Not once did she ever shift her attention from the road.

"She will." So Hibiki agreed, yet he couldn't quell the faint nag of doubt. Namikaze Namie didn't have any obligation to show up. He wasn't even sure just _how_ badly she wanted to pass the test, despite the past few weeks they'd spent training together and growing accustomed to each other's styles. It was certainly something _he_ wanted, Kohaku as well, even if they might not earn the promotion this time around. But there was still a chance—as long as they made it into the first stage.

* * *

"You're on your way to the chūnin exams, aren't you?"

Namie stopped, barely even able to catch her breath for the tension of the situation—few precious minutes remained, and the Academy was _just_ around the corner—and made to bypass the shinobi standing in her way. He matched her moves, even when she tried to dash, and, finally, when she grew tired of this clumsy, coordinated dance and turned on her heel to backpedal and find an alternate route, she found a wall smack in the middle of the road—or, where a road should have been.

Genjutsu—it was genjutsu. She could feel it, feel the slight distortion, but she didn't think it was anything dangerous. Only an annoyance. A minor hindrance. She closed her eyes and breathed in evenly before turning to face the shinobi again, briefly eyeing his plain, but familiar, appearance. He was someone she'd seen around before—rather, one of her former Academy teachers.

"Long time no see, Yuuichi-sensei. Don't exactly have time to chat, now—so whatever this is, let me be on my way."

_It_ was most likely part of the exam's first stage, or something that led up to it—but she had a feeling that the moment she stepped outside of her home the test had already begun, somehow, even if it was just a feeling of racing against the clock at the time.

A hint of a smile crossed the man's face. "You've come pretty far from the little troublemaker student, haven't you? Already on your way to becoming a _chūnin._"

"I'd love to reminisce, but how 'bout some other time? I'm—I have somewhere to be. People are waiting for me."

"Oh, I'm aware. In fact, the first test begins in two minutes."

"Two—" she nearly choked. Just how off had her internal clock been!?

"But before you go, I have a question for you." He spoke slowly, as if taking up her time was his sole intent.

"Hurry up and ask, then!" She shifted from foot to foot, weighing the odds of trying to bulldoze past the brunet chūnin or just waiting to hear his time-waster of a query.

"If I told you you have the chance become a chūnin right now, without your teammates, what would you say? Would you accept the promotion?"

She froze. Stilled her body and felt only a faint pulse coursing through her from a combination of the remaining adrenaline rush and the seconds ticking by. If that wasn't some kind of convoluted shinobi bait bullshit, she wasn't sure _what_ was. But…she was sure others could have fallen for it. Probably had. It was a tempting, if not ludicrous, offer. Everyone knew that rank had to be gained through an organized event—it was what made it unique.

Maybe her other teammates had faced this very same obstacle and had already passed it and moved along to wait for her at the Academy. She was certain they wouldn't have taken the false offer.

"No way. My team's waiting for me. I can't just abandon them." After speaking, she stepped forward slowly, watching to make sure he wouldn't stop her again.

A flicker of a smile crossed the man's face. "Good answer. I won't keep you any longer." He stepped aside, and allowed her to pass. "Best of luck on the exam."

She took off at a sprint and didn't look back.

* * *

Five minutes became two—Kohaku counted the seconds in her head and began to pace as time escaped, drifting by, as elusive as the wind. If she could, she would have grabbed it, frozen it and kept it still, just to give them that much more of a chance.

But that was impossible.

One minute remained.

Hibiki's foot began to tap impatiently on the ground, just barely, but Kohaku caught the movement from the corner of her eye. He probably wasn't even aware he was doing it, but it didn't do much to calm her nerves that he was worried as well—the fact that he was unsure their teammate would arrive meant...well, she didn't want to think of that now.

Thirty seconds.

The classroom had quieted down completely—or maybe it was just her anxious pulse beating in her ears that muffled the sound.

Twenty seconds.

She didn't want to give in to the idea that maybe they should do the same as the previous team and forfeit their chance to participate as well.

Fifteen seconds.

_Not yet._

But with ten seconds left, just what was she supposed to think…?

As long as there was still _time_, there was no reason to give up hope.

_Five seconds._

Her eyes snapped toward the street when a familiar voice rang out.

* * *

The exams were due to start and there was no more time to wait. The sandy-haired chūnin made it a point to watch the doorway since the final team assured him they would make it before the deadline passed, but…it looked like they wouldn't be taking this test.

It was a bit disappointing. It wasn't often that genin that age had such conviction in their teammates and he found himself thinking that team would provide an interesting display, since the rest of the group was a bit…boring. Some among the thirty-nine present looked promising, but otherwise the group as a whole was dull.

Well—maybe the ones with spark would try again next year.

"Guess it's time to start, then," the tanned woman beside him grinned, looking particularly pleased that she'd been given the responsibility of overseeing the first stage.

He nodded at his fellow proctor and reached out to slide the door shut—as soon as it closed, a minor security perimeter would lock in place to prevent outside interference and to preserve the integrity of the test. It wasn't that any latecomers would be denied entry and turned away—it was _impossible_ to open that door until the stage was complete.

"Them's the breaks," he muttered under his breath, lifting his shoulders in a shrug and setting his hand against the door, ready to begin just so he could get this over with and go back to his usual duties.

Only—the door jammed halfway in its track.

He clicked his tongue and glanced over to see just what it had caught on, then did a double-take.

It wasn't that the door caught on anything—a small hand gripped its edge and kept it from moving, then pushed against it until it was fully open once again.

"We're here."

The man moved aside and smiled wryly at the final three genin that stepped through the doorway, led by a small blonde.

"Welcome to the chūnin exams."

* * *

**A/N:** This has given me a helluva lot of trouble, but I'm finally happy with it so here we have it, the start to a new arc! Along with it, I've been sent a few additions to the ever-growing list of fanart and fan-fanfics for this fic lately, so please go to my profile link to check those out and thank** tokibun**, **AthanatosOra **and **GoodOmens **for them! They're amazing.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	36. Thirty-two

**Chapter Thirty-two: Stage One, Incident**

* * *

It was only a short sprint, and the classroom was about as cold inside as it was outside, but Namie found her back coated in sweat as she took a seat beside her two teammates and paused to gather her bearings. Nerves. It was only nerves. Excitement. Disbelief.

But mostly excitement.

This was the chūnin exams—_the chūnin exams._ Finally, finally.

Every little thing about it was new and interesting, from the thirty-something other genin she counted in the room to the seal fixed onto the closed door by the male proctor. A type of privacy seal, she knew—recognized it from a few familiar markings but had to make a guess at it because all seal formulas were unique to their creator, like handwriting, or a fingerprint.

She noted a few of the other participants hailed from prestigious clans, as it was more a matter of where to look for family symbols as opposed to physical appearances, but her eyes took in even the most insignificant detail as they flitted about the area, and it took all of her willpower to suppress the giddiness bubbling up from within.

This was a small victory. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

But she could do without the curt and curious glances being sent her way. Hers was the last team to arrive, so it was only natural they garnered attention, but she was well aware she was the youngest genin in the room. Unlike the time she'd been united with her first team—she briefly wondered if Kakashi felt the same way when he was in her place.

…No, probably not. Not that arrogant guy.

The rush slowly receded and Namie became aware of her immediate surroundings. Kohaku and Hibiki conversed in hushed tones beside her, shooting her an occasional glance, but she tuned out their words. There would be plenty of time to talk later. And it didn't last—they fell quiet when the two proctors stood at the front of the room and began to speak, addressing the entire room.

"Well, now that everyone's here, it's fin'ly time to begin!" The female proctor clapped her hands together eagerly as she surveyed the room with bright eyes. The green color wasn't the only familiar characteristic—Namie was certain she'd heard that country twang of an accent before. If she recalled, the woman was Senju Koemi—Kushina's genin mentor, as well as a shinobi she'd seen guarding the village gates quite a few times before. The man beside her was one of the constant gate guards as well, though she'd never caught his name.

"But let's start with introductions first, shall we? I'm Masato, and I'll be assisting Koemi here. We will be your main proctors throughout this exam, from Stage One to the end. For those of you who make it through, anyway," the sandy-haired man added with a carefree smirk.

"Right," Koemi agreed, setting a hand on the lecture desk before her and leaning forward just slightly, enough that her head was tilted at a downward angle and a serious shadow fell over her eyes as she glanced out across the sea of students. "A good few of you'll end up droppin' off before we even get halfway through this test. And this competition pool's already small enough as it is thanks to the postponement. Wouldja believe we had near sixty participants slated before that…?"

She cleared her throat and straightened up once more, crossing her arms over her chest. "But that's then and this's now._ Now_ is the first stage of the exam. Congrats to those of you who made it here—it means your teammates didn't abandon you. Y'know—the third member of yer teams who arrived a little later?" She paused as the genin all glanced at their respective 'third teammates.'

"That was part of the test," Masato chimed in. "So those who didn't give up on you and those you didn't give up on couldn't be here now if you didn't all share some solid teamwork and have faith in each other." His expression suddenly sobered. "Of course, there are times when you'll be faced with the choice of putting other things before your teammates, but when you face a situation where you have to work together to overcome something, well…this just proves that you did." He reached for the stack of documents on the desk and began distributing them to the genin occupying the seats.

"'Course, this part of the test won't be like that—just a written exam fer ya'll to write on and turn in. Pretty cut 'n' dry, really." Koemi glanced down at her fingernails as she remained standing at the front of the room, one hip leaning against the teacher's desk. The casual way she spoke was a bit disconcerting—and Namie realized just why that was as soon as Masato set the sheet of paper down in front of her.

It was blank. Smooth and bright, as untouched as pure snow.

"Oh, but ya won't be turnin' it in in this room—if that makes any sense. Masato and I'll be waitin' just outside the classroom and, well, all y'have to do is hand the paper in to one of us."

There was a pause as a wave of confusion swept through the room, evident by how each of the genin's brows furrowed as they tried to make sense of the kunoichi's explanation.

"Well, _if_ ya manage ta find the exit, that is." The pleased smile stretched across her lips did nothing to calm the sudden rise of anxiety closing in on the room as the participants realized that this wasn't a typical test.

"You have an hour. So, good luck to you all!" Masato offered a cheeky grin and a wave after he set down the final test and disappeared in a puff of smoke right beside a disgruntled Akimichi. Koemi followed suit, and in the wake of their absence and the haze of confusion they left behind, the genin couldn't help but remain silent as they mulled over the proctors' words.

Then, like a gale, test sheets whirled into the air as genin launched from their seats and rushed towards the door, to the windows, to the walls, trying in vain to open them. Fingers pried at the seal stuck to the door, but it held fast. Kunai blades pierced the seal paper, yet it remained firm and rigid—quite unlike paper at all. The genin who aimed for an escape elsewhere soon discovered windows jammed in their sills—and ceiling tiles were stuck in place, immovable.

Namie batted away one of the loose, airborne documents that swooped towards her face and picked up the blank sheet of paper sitting on the desktop in front of her before glancing at Kohaku and Hibiki, caught in a stupor of deep concentration. They looked over as soon as the blonde caught their eyes.

"Well, this is different." A dry grin rose to her lips. "Should we jump up and panic like everyone else?"

"I don't think it would matter either way," Hibiki replied. "But—this isn't a genjutsu. There's no illusion in place anywhere in this room."

"So we really have to…think…on this one." Kohaku covered her mouth with her hand as she fell into deep thought, eyes roving slowly around the room, analyzing everything provided.

"There's not much to think about. Fill out the paper, leave the room and turn it in to the examiners in an hour." Namie turned the blank sheet over and over, but nothing appeared—there was no previous writing, in pale ink or small, secret script, anywhere on it. Not even when she channeled a small spark of chakra into it to see if it reacted like a nature-type litmus test. She pursed her lips before reaching for the nearby pen and scrawling her name across the entire page in messy kana.

"What—what are you doing?" Kohaku stammered, taking the paper from her teammate as soon as her pen left the surface, eyes scanning the page in disbelief and confusion.

"They didn't say _what_ to write on the page. This should pass the requirement. Now, all we have to do is find a way out."

Hibiki watched the two girls for a moment, eyeing the messy ink on the blonde's test paper, then closed his eyes in resignation. "She's…not wrong. The examiners didn't specify." With a shrug, he picked up his own pen and neatly printed his name across his test.

Kohaku gave a low hum and toyed with the end of her braid. "…Alright, then. I don't suppose it matters." After a moment, her test paper also sported her name in bold, confident lettering.

Namie slipped from her seat and glanced around the room at the scrambling teams, paying little attention to the competing teams and focusing on searching the room for an escape instead. If she'd studied fuinjutsu in-depth with Kushina, beyond utilizing it for storage, maybe she'd have a chance at decoding and countering the one placed on the door—but removing that seal meant opening the proverbial starting gate and letting all of the other teams out, too. Competition meant someone had to get left behind, and she wasn't willing to wait for the elimination matches to start whittling the other teams down.

But…for all means and purposes….they were in a completely sealed room. It was a difficult obstacle, and worst case scenario, _none_ of them would advance to the next stage.

"I don't guess either of you are well-versed in space-time jutsu, are you?" she wondered, quirking an eyebrow at her two teammates. Even with their Sharingan abilities, it was unlikely they possessed the very skill that would get them out of this situation.

Kohaku sighed, and the sound barely came through her tensely-set jaw. "Don't even joke about that, Namie."

"It was worth a shot."

"Please be serious." Hibiki spoke this time, rising to his feet to examine the room as well.

The two Uchiha were a little uptight—especially in these situations. No humor to be found there as far as they were concerned, she discovered. Easygoing Uchiha like Obito and Mikoto must have been rarities. "Sorry. I'm serious, though. I want to get out of here as much as the next guy," she mumbled, crossing her arms and doing a head-count of the nearby genin to make sure none had managed to find an exit and slip away undetected.

All were accounted for.

A confident grin rose to her lips. "And I want _us_ to be the first team out."

With little else to do, Namie approached the sealed door, elbowing her way in between the barricade of other genin blocking the way. She felt the familiar presence of her two teammates at her side shortly after.

"Didn't you mention you studied fuinjutsu?" Kohaku asked, touching her hand lightly to the paper seal, examining it for oddities. After deciding there was nothing strange about it, she let her hand wander off to the wall's wooden surface, searching for potential hidden switches.

"I did—a little. It wasn't ever really a focus. I can't make heads or tails of this," Namie said honestly, scanning the symbols and scrawled characters over and over, checking for a key to decode it, checking for _anything_ that might provide a clue in the formulaic garble.

Hibiki joined his teammate in examining the walls and area around the door. "I think there's a slim chance we'll find a way out here by the door. Maybe the _exit_ we're looking for isn't even a door at all."

"What do you mean by that? What else would an exit be? Besides a window, anyway—but they're all locked, too."

"I don't mean that, it's just…" Hibiki paused, tugging at the edge of his forehead protector that hung close over his eyes as he fumbled for the proper words. When he found them, he was sure to lower his voice so the nearby teams couldn't hear. "The way the examiners phrased things just seems weird…_._"

Namie moved away from the door and let her eyes rove around the room, to the windows, floors, and ceiling before coming to rest on the pensive face of her male teammate. "Weird how?"

"Well, for one, the test _is_ blank. So—the major point of this stage is, well…finding out _what_ to write down. Two, considering the only exit we can see is right _here_, telling us something like 'if' we can find it is…strange."

Kohaku sighed. "I agree. And I know we already wrote them, but I don't think just our names will cut it. It can't be that easy."

By now, most of the other groups had come to a similar conclusion after seeing that pawing at the walls and floors for a hidden door was futile. They huddled together discussing the problem, casting furtive, distrustful glances to the competition. Namie caught the eye of a shrewd-looking Nara that was listening in to their conversation—and for a moment feared she'd figured out how to pass the stage from hearing the discussion. Until she looked away and continued speaking with her team.

Namie closed her eyes and nodded. "You're right. Otherwise we wouldn't need them at all."

One of those stupid, trite shinobi mantras flickered through her mind—_look underneath the underneath._

Shinobi and their convoluted mind games—it was a huge waste of time, she thought, but it couldn't be helped. Once upon a time, she didn't mind puzzles so much.

And they were closer to solving it than anyone else in the room.

She took what her teammates contributed and pieced the clues together in her mind, even if it involved logical leaps and sheer dumb luck, before reaching for her test paper and picking up her pen, holding it poised over the surface, ready to write—anything. Even if it was stupid. Anything would work.

"We'll just have to guess, then."

So she took a deep breath, and quickly scrawled a messy, near illegible, kanji for "exit" across the page.

"Wait, what are you—"

It happened in an instant—just like the pull of the Hiraishin, she felt herself traveling, not quite like taking a step forward, not even like falling, but moving, through space—but _without_ moving as her surroundings blurred into a smeared mess.

It wasn't something she could wrap her head around even now, but when everything came into crisp focus again, she realized she was in a much smaller space than before. A familiar space. A hallway. And the other side of the classroom door, shut tight, stood before her, plastered with a similar seal that mirrored the one on the reverse.

Then, not even a second later, Kohaku and Hibiki appeared at her side, looking just as awestruck and clutching their exam papers tightly in their hands, sporting kanji that matched the one on her page.

Namie turned to face them, turned to see the two exam proctors staring at them in surprise over her teammates' shoulders, and felt a grin slowly push its way onto her lips upon realizing that her guess turned out to be the right one.

Well, luck was part of being a shinobi, too.

But her victory was short lived—the moment she opened her mouth to claim it, another team appeared beside them in a puff of smoke as they, too, were transported out of the classroom. It was the team the clever-looking Nara girl from before belonged to—and the girl shot a cheeky grin her way as she approached Koemi and Masato and handed over her and her two non-clan teammates' exam papers.

The green-eyed Senju managed a pleased smile as she stared down at the tests. "Well, well, lookit that! Thought it'd take at _least_ twenty minutes for anyone ta figure that out, but here ya are! Two teams, even!"

Namie's smile shifted into a pursed scowl as she watched the second team steal their thunder—sure, they were the first ones to figure it out, but then the others just had to waltz in and get in the way to hand in their exams first. Before she could seethe too deeply in her anger, though, Kohaku tugged the slightly-crinkled test from her grip and then turned them all in to Masato with an elegant smile, completing their objective.

"Ain't that something," the sandy-haired chūnin replied as he transferred the tests to his partner's hands and then consulted his clipboard, quickly scribbling something illegible down on the roster sheets. Then, he glanced up at the six genin with an amiable smile. "You six are free to rest in the unoccupied classroom down the hallway for the remainder of this hour, but don't leave the building. If you do, you'll be disqualified. Oh, and for the sake of convenience, I'm going to assign you team numbers: you're Team One," he addressed Namie and the Uchiha pair, "and you're Team Two," he nodded to the Nara's group.

A chill snaked through Namie's veins as the familiar name sounded in her ears, and she gave a dry, lurching swallow before forcing the grim surprise back, back, as far back into her mind as she could, because it was _just_ her luck that her past would catch up with her and remain clinging at her side no matter how hard she tried to get away and move past it. But…maybe it was meant to be this way. Maybe it was some kind of twisted token of good luck. Team One and its memories would always be a part of her, after all. And it would carry her through this exam.

"Team One, hmm?" Hibiki spoke up, cutting through her thoughts. "I like the sound of that."

"It isn't bad. It's an ace number. The best." Kohaku agreed quietly, flashing the blonde and her teammate a grin as they turned away from the others and walked to the end of the hallway.

"Then we'll just have to live up to that, won't we?" Namie said as she followed behind.

* * *

With fifteen minutes of the 'written exam' remaining, already half of the teams that had been present in the classroom found the proper exit and were now gathered in the waiting room with spiking levels of anxious impatience and boredom.

It was the slowest hour of Namie's life—as if time was intentionally being stretched out just to spite the occasion. Every time she glanced up at the clock, the minute hand seemed to be pointing in the same exact place, sometimes even skipping backward and making the waiting period longer than it should have been. All she could really do was roll her eyes and sigh, resting her chin on her hand, wishing she could strike up some kind of conversation with her teammates (even though Hibiki looked like he could well be snoozing. And Kohaku's eyes were closed—she was either meditating or also sleeping) but finding herself at a loss thanks to the atmosphere. It was a tense kind of quiet, the kind where the sharp clacking sound of a pen hitting the ground would startle the hell out of everyone because their thoughts were focused elsewhere. People barely spoke, and if at all, only in quiet murmurs.

The next time she looked up, another team ambled into the classroom, both weary and relieved to be there. But just as she'd seen them enter the room, a shadowed blur blocked her line of vision—quite close to her face, actually. It was a pair of bright, dark eyes that held a spark of cleverness and a glimmer of mischief, wide and curious, and the longer she looked, the more they seemed like black holes drawing everything in, into a certain, unsettling black emptiness. She jerked back on reflex and felt her spine knock into the edge of the desk behind her, drawing forth a short hiss of pain.

"What? _What?_ Jeez, haven't you heard of personal space?" she grumbled out, twisting her torso and reaching back to rub at her aching spine, feeling her eyes watering from the sudden impact and wondering why, just why, the desks and seats had to be set so close together in the stupid classroom.

"Sorry. Didn't think I'd surprise you."

Namie turned to face the girl with a glower, but her expression evened out into something flat and blank as she studied her gentle, off-setting smile. It was the Nara girl, again.

She was short, only a bit taller than Namie, but her appearance revealed that she was the same age as Kohaku and Hibiki. No older than fourteen. Her brown hair was set in a loose, swishy bob that hid her ears and framed her smiling face, and the expression was a bit silly, she realized, as she looked closer. An airheaded haircut just short of Rock Lee's and a light expression that effectively camouflaged the sly glint that flashed occasionally in her eyes.

Why she was watching her, bothering her, however, was beyond her.

"Can I help you?"

She pressed her lips together into a fine line before speaking. "You're that Namikaze Namie girl, right?" There was something sure and deliberate about her words, even though they were spoken in a friendly, casual manner.

"I am. So?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Well, it's just that I've heard your name around a few times and I thought I'd see for myself just what the fuss is. You're a little bit famous, you know. Ah—maybe that's not the best term to use." The Nara girl leaned her arms across Namie's desk as she sat backwards on the chair on the other side, head tilted ever-so-slightly as she watched the younger.

Namie raised an eyebrow. "Famous?" Rumors—they were likely rumors, and nothing good came from those. Nothing good could have come from hearsay involving her name. She didn't want to hear any of it.

"You're known, is all. Really, I guess your_ brother_ is the one starting to get famous. But you share the name, too, plus…it's been a while since a girl as young as you entered the chūnin exams. And you were the first one to figure out the first stage! You're definitely not average." A small, unreadable smile played at her lips as she watched the blonde—it unnerved her, just a bit. "I'm Miho, by the way. Nara Miho."

"Charmed."

Miho laughed faintly. "Not a social one, hm? It's okay, I don't mind doing most of the talking. But I'll get to the point, now. You—I want to fight you, Namie-san. I want to see just what's so special about you."

Great. The last thing she needed was a rival in this stupid exam. She couldn't have just kept her curiosity to herself and walked away. Namie opened her mouth to shoot back a sarcastic quip, but found someone else speaking instead.

"I'm sure that will happen if the test allows for it, Miho-san." It was Kohaku. She'd opened one eye and watched the brunette girl coolly, not budging an inch from her comfortable position with one leg crossed over the other and hands clasped loosely in her lap. Despite how she appeared, and if Namie wasn't mistaken, there was a certain strain in the way she held herself—only pretending to remain calm.

"Oh, Kohaku-chan, I didn't see you there. Still don't have much of a presence, do you?" Miho pushed herself away from the blonde's desk and rose to her feet, taking a few steps backward as she let her eyes sweep over Team One in its entirety, as if seeing them for the first time. Blinked and then looked away, not impressed with what she saw. Then, without a word of farewell, she turned abruptly and returned to the desk where her two teammates sat. Only stopped to cast a backwards glance at Namie and offered a quick wink before striking up a conversation with one of the boys.

"What a weirdo," Namie scoffed, slowly crossing her arms and settling back into her seat now that the dull ache in her spine eased away—along with the cloud of strange, eerie tension Miho brought with her.

"Don't mind that one," Kohaku said gently, though there was a hard edge to her tone. "But, also, don't ever find yourself alone with her. All she thinks about is competition and finding someone to fight. It's why she can't pass the chūnin exam."

"Can't pass? How many times has she taken it?"

The older girl pursed her lips and glanced away, in Hibiki's direction, as if seeking him for a proper explanation, but his eyes remained closed and his breathing remained rhythmic and even—definitely asleep. She fiddled with the end of her braid. "She graduated young, too. She was the same age as you. This is her third time competing. And…Kyouya had to fight her in the finals of his exam."

Namie shrugged. "And? He passed, so he beat her, right?"

Kohaku's fingers stilled and she slowly released her braid. "No; he lost."

* * *

The clock passed the hour mark at last, and the moment it did, the two proctors straggled into the classroom with one more team in tow; bringing the number of passing competitors to thirty-three.

"Well," Koemi began, setting her hands on her hips as she scanned the room, sparing each genin a quick glance. "Didn't think so many of ya'd pass that. Congrats." She paused for a moment, flicking her eyes towards Masato, who rummaged around the teaching podium beside her before bringing out a box filled with scrolls. "This brings us to the next part of the exam, then. Not quite the second stage, but an extension of the first."

Masato stepped forward and began passing out the items, along with sheets of paper, much in the same way he'd distributed their previous tests, but instead of blank sheets, these were filled with neat, small handwriting outlining the next process. All save for one line.

**DO NOT OPEN THE SCROLL**was the first, and most important, step on the given list, written in large, bold characters.

"As you know, the introduction to Stage One tested you and your teammates' wit and ability to infer a solution based on what you were given in order to escape a difficult situation. The next part will be more practical," Masato explained.

"You'll have twenty-four hours to complete the task we've given ya as described on those papers. It's all the same for each one of ya, but how you approach it, how you use yer skills, is all unique. We, and other shinobi you won't see, will be ghostin' your progress and grading you by it. Also as a safety measure." The ominous words went largely ignored in favor of the new task at hand.

"This event will take place within Training Ground Forty-four and begins in half an hour. Gather supplies, prepare yourselves, and meet at the entrance in that time." Masato checked the clock before sweeping his gaze across the children. "As usual, be late, be disqualified. Questions will be answered on-site." His gaze lingered on Team One before he turned to his partner with a nod.

Koemi grinned at the participants before she and her partner body-flickered away. This time, however, their departure didn't result in a stampede or a rush for the door.

The eleven teams sat in silence, soaking in the information.

"Training Ground Forty-four?" Namie breathed, watching her teammates from the corner of her eye as Kohaku touched the scroll curiously and Hibiki read over their instruction sheet. "Isn't that…?

Hibiki nodded slowly, features grim. "_The Forest of Death_."

* * *

All thirty-three genin were present, loitering around the tightly-weaved chain-link fence that barred them from entering the training area—or, rather, the fence that kept whatever lurked beyond trapped safely inside. So much for promptness. The proctors were the ones who gave the timeframe, yet they were the last to arrive.

No matter how strange the first part of the exam had been, this was the _real_ test. Namie could feel it. Not only from the foreboding location involved, but from the fact that a large medic-nin tent was set up along the forest's borders. She briefly wondered if Taji was present, there, just out of sight behind the cream-colored flap of the entryway, maybe purposely staying out of her line of sight for fear of being too overbearing—or making her nervous. She never complained about healing her; taking care of her. But she knew it weighed on her mind, guilt heavy like lead, because it was always difficult to see loved ones suffering. Then, she decided, she would just have to avoid ending up hurt and needing the medical attention.

"What do you think's in the scroll?" Namie asked, crossing her arms as she observed the item in Kohaku's hand, rolled tightly, sealed, and tied with a neat little red string, if only to break the silence and make conversation while they waited.

"I'm not sure it matters. Not when the objective is to deliver it to a specific destination," the girl replied.

Spoken like a true shinobi.

Hibiki gave a yawn before throwing in his two cents. "I'm more concerned about what the objective entails." His sleepy eyes wandered across the fenced-in area that loomed before them, deep, and dark, dark, darker the further it retreated from the perimeter, like a gaping mouth ready to swallow them whole or chew them up and spit them out with its wooden teeth.

Namie shivered—if not from the cold, then from the creepy atmosphere the forest emitted—and stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying to take her mind off of the daunting task. There was a stray ponytail holder among the pocket lint—not hers. This garish, plum-colored coat was borrowed from Kushina because she hadn't thought to buy a new one after outgrowing her own last year—she couldn't exactly wear her brother's old one as a hand-me-down forever. The redhead didn't mind lending it in the least, though. She seemed to like having someone to dress up in the clothes she'd outgrown.

That train of thought didn't hold her for long. The test proctors arrived in a flurry of smoke and leaves, feet stepping firmly on the ground as they appeared in front of the entrance gate to the forest, standing at either side as if they were the guardians to it, hearkening back to their daily duty.

"I see yer all packed 'n' ready ta go!" Koemi observed, crossing her toned arms across her chest and smiling.

Namie paid no mind to it before, but the woman's uniform bore no sleeves—leaving her skin open to the bite of the cold. There was something about the forest that dropped the temperature down by ten degrees, at least, so she didn't know how the woman could stand it, being so near.

"Good. Not a face missin', either. Well—might not be good fer _you_ per se." She shrugged, shaking her head slightly. "See, what you'll be doin' here is a sorta special event. Meanin' there's only a certain number of teams that'll pass."

Namie turned her head slightly, catching Kohaku and Hibiki's eyes. They held the look for a moment, understanding that this was serious and there was no room for error, before their gazes returned to the woman.

Masato cleared his throat and spoke next. "But the task itself is explained on the instruction sheets we provided." His eyes wandered down to the ever-present clipboard in his hands. "I trust none of you have opened up the scrolls we entrusted you with, or else we'd be one team less, but—well, if there are any questions about this task, now is the time to ask."

A quiet murmur rippled through the group as all teammates checked that they understood what they were to do within the forest.

Kohaku was the first to speak, raising her arm so high and straight that her long kimono sleeve slipped down to reveal the ninja armor at her elbow. "Excuse my asking, but why this particular training ground?"

Hibiki's eyes were trained on her as she spoke, Namie noticed, but as soon as she fell silent, his gaze darted to the proctors.

"Well, figured someone'd ask that," the green-eyed Senju muttered, pursing her lips as she regarded the Uchiha girl. Her eyes connected with Masato's and they exchanged a meaningful glance, as if mentally sorting through the proper response. "I'm sure some of you are aware the location of the exam sorta jumps around 'n' all. Sometimes this stage's outside of the village in a satellite town, a campsite—somethin'. Jus' so happens we've chosen Training Ground Forty-four here for this group. An' that's that."

Masato hummed, nodding his head. "That's right. If you're concerned about the dangers involved, consider that each location for the exam presents its own. Bandits, thieves, enemy shinobi, giant, mindless creatures…" his voice trailed off as he gave a vague wave towards the forest at his back. "But that's why well be keeping a close eye on all of you participants. Can't have anyone dying, now. That's not the kind of test this is."

"'Course, that doesn't mean you won't possibly become seriously injured, so if you slack off an' let yer guard down for even a _second_, you could lose a limb or two." Koemi's grin never dropped, and the facetious lull to her tone offset the somber nature of the words, but not a soul dared laugh.

"Any more questions, then?"

No one thought to press them and insist that they'd never even answered the first question properly.

Namie spoke up when no one else seemed game for asking, taking a few steps forward. "The paper here says we'll be exchanging the scroll in our possession with an item at the checkpoint—just what does this checkpoint look like?"

Masato smiled amiably. "You'll know when you see it."

She bit her lip. "That's not—"

"I mean that. Every one of you is headed to the same destination, somewhere deep in the forest. It's not inconspicuous and it's the only one."

She gave a reluctant nod, accepting his response, then returned to Team One's side.

"I have a question," a familiar, cheery voice sounded. The blonde looked over to see Miho standing up on the tips of her toes in order to be seen over the heads of the surrounding genin. The usual, unreadable smile was playing at her lips. "What are the rules involved here?"

"Good question," Koemi praised, clapping her hands together suddenly. "Can't go into somethin' like this without knowin' the rules you're playin' by. That said, there aren't really any. Yer free to do what ya want in this segment so long as you follow the objective."

"That said, you are all aware of proper shinobi conduct." Masato's warning on the matter was the conclusion to their answer.

"How many teams will pass?" Hibiki asked, voice even and devoid of the usual lethargy.

"Eight. Eight teams have a chance," Koemi replied. Her eyes briefly flicked towards the sky before she closed her eyes. Then, a second later, they were open again. "Well, it's getting' to be time to begin, so let's wrap up this li'l Q-and-A here." She jerked her head in Masato's direction and he nodded, taking the cue to open the training ground's entry gate.

Once it was open, he held his arm out with a flourish, urging the teams forward. Some stepped past the gate immediately (the Nara girl and her team), some hesitated for a moment before following behind the rest of the group. Namie and her team found themselves bringing up the rear, left to have the gate shut behind them as soon as they were clear.

Namie glanced back at the proctors as they stood on the other side of the partition, Masato locking the gate up tight, and Koemi standing with arms crossed, watching them all with sparkling eyes.

"Don't forget—twenty-four hours, meet back here. Good luck, and see you then."

As soon as the parting words were shared, the two shinobi vanished.

All that was left was the Forest of Death looming before them like a slumbering beast that would soon awaken.

* * *

The Forest of Death was bigger than she remembered—more than just something off of a TV screen, now, or from the monochrome pages of a comic. Vast, but tightly-packed with trees and vegetation of monstrous scale to the point where it became almost claustrophobic and confusing. Not a sliver of the sky could be seen between the tangled branches above, and the only light source came from lanterns and make-shift torches cobbled together from fallen branches and cleverly-placed fire jutsus. The heat conflicted with the cold, and the deeper they moved into the forest, a dank, stifling humidity rose up, steeped them in a clinging sweat and forced them to discard their jackets for the remainder of the journey.

Shortly after the beginning of this test, the eleven teams involved went their separate ways, to try their luck in locating the checkpoint before their peers. The forest was large enough that they could wander and wander without bumping into another team for hours. But none of them were fool enough to believe it would be that way forever—some would tail others, out of sight and sly as the creatures whose tails slithered at the edges of the shadows as they watched and waited.

They weren't alone in that forest, and not only for the overseers watching them (eyes were everywhere).

Team One traveled in silence since the moment they entered the training ground; a good, solid hour had passed since then.

"Do we know where we're headed?" Namie asked the two genin she walked close behind, trying to swallow down the dry, cottony feeling of dread stuck on her tongue as close as the heat that clung to her skin.

Hibiki held the scroll, taking the responsibility to keep it safe and guarded upon himself while Kohaku traveled beside him, ever vigilant. The lantern in her hand swished precariously as she turned to fix the blonde with an unreadable stare.

Then it hit her.

Kohaku's eyes shone scarlet in the dim light—rather, they didn't seem like Kohaku's eyes at all, but twin Sharingan she was seeing for the first time from the girl.

She was looking for something—but not their goal. Something with chakra.

A faint smile rose to the dark-haired girl's face. "Yes, we do, Namie-san. Most shinobi know of the central tower located within this training space. It's likely the checkpoint Koemi-san and Masato-san were speaking of."

"It's a little hard to find, though," Hibiki said quietly from beside his teammate, casting a brief glance at the blonde and, surprisingly, lacking the Sharingan glow. "There's no set way to get there."

"So we're following the footsteps we found a few minutes ago," Kohaku concluded.

Namie nodded. "Right; I've heard of it." She felt a frown weigh down the corners of her lips. "But why stay quiet about all this? Try to keep me in the loop, here. We're a team."

"Sorry, Namie-san. The silence was for the sake of concentration. Not to ostracize you by any means."

"Whose trail are we following?" she asked.

Kohaku's smile slowly faded and she reached for the end of her braid, but stopped and dropped her hand back to her side. "Team Two. Nara Miho's."

Namie stopped walking. Watched as Kohaku and Hibiki did the same before turning to face her fully, expressions cast in dancing shadows from the flickering flames inside the lantern, but it was clear that neither was smiling. The usual calm, amiable, or weary facades were nowhere to be seen.

All because of that kunoichi's name.

Hibiki and Kohaku's attitudes had changed drastically since the debut of that girl. At first, she attributed the shift to the fact that the test was progressing and they were sent to the Forest of Death, of all places, but now, hearing their motives, she was sure. There was something they weren't telling her; something that existed only between them.

But they were a team, now. Team One. She wouldn't let them keep secrets.

"Alright, what's going on? Just who is that girl to you besides someone who beat your teammate in the last exam?" She felt her hands curl into fists at her sides as her feet pushed firmly against the ground. She wasn't moving another step until they gave her answers.

Kohaku and Hibiki exchanged a long stare before the girl heaved a sigh and raised her free arm in a shrug, smile falling back into place. "You're right. We should tell you; you're our teammate, too."

Namie's temper eased slightly upon hearing the other kunoichi's words. They _did_ consider her a teammate, she knew. This was the first time their smooth relationship had met a snag and, despite that, it was easy to straighten out. They weren't the type to keep secrets to the death, for their own, selfish sakes.

Hibiki glanced down at the scroll in his hand. "Kohaku told you: that Nara girl beat Kyouya in the finals."

'_Ah, so he was awake during that.'_ Namie raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.

"What she didn't tell you was that she left him in critical condition for a month afterwards."

Kohaku's jaw tensed. "Things like that _do_ have the potential to happen in the chūnin exams, I know, but what she did was...it was…" Barely, just barely, Namie caught the faint glimmer of tears pooling at the corners of her too-shiny eyes before she shut them tight and looked away.

"Too brutal. Part of it was an accident, at least it was written off that way, but…considering it was Nara Miho, we're convinced it wasn't." Hibiki's eyebrows crinkled together just slightly, meeting just above the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, he fixed Namie with a direct, serious stare. "We're going to make sure she doesn't make it past this stage of the exam. We're going to make sure her team isn't one of the eight that passes."

"For Kyouya." Kohaku added, tone steeled. Then, it softened. "And for you. She's fixated on you, now. That's how it began last time. An innocent comment about wanting to fight, and then…it was _awful_."

All of the words Namie wanted to speak during their confession died behind her teeth. They weren't just acting on their own for their former teammate—mostly, yes, but there was also concern for _her_ present. Reminding her that she wasn't just an accessory, here, just a means to an end.

And she completely understood their purpose.

"Let's go, then. I'm behind you guys one-hundred percent." To cement the assurance, she offered them a smile that recklessly promised nothing short of a future beat down for the Nara kunoichi that crossed them.

* * *

_Did you really think your half-baked plan would work here?_

The tower was close; so, so close—within their reach. Only a sprint away. Just though the gap in the trees that gushed a welcome stream of sunlight.

Yet none could move. Namie's legs were locked, feet stuck fast to the grass beneath her. Her entire body was paralyzed in invisible quicksand and no matter how hard she willed it, how badly she wanted to, she couldn't move it. Not even with the utmost strength. She was left standing tall, yet helpless, as the trees that surrounded her. Vulnerable.

A strained, rough cough sounded near her—someone was gasping for breath, wheezing, yet she couldn't turn to see who. Couldn't quite decipher the vocal quality to determine whether it was male or female; whether it was Hibiki or Kohaku, because every sound was distorted, no match for the rage bubbling up within her. Blood thrummed in her ears as her heart pounded against her ribs, pushing, always pushing, seeking a way out of this trap.

_Hot pepper bombs work magic against the Sharingan, don't you think?_

Her own eyes watered as the pepper cloud just reached her, already diluted by the air and not nearly as oppressive as what bombarded the two Uchiha, but still enough to bring a bite.

_If they rely so heavily on their eyes, though, there's not much left when they're taken away._

Nara Miho's words lacked the usual play, the cheer that coated the deep malice beneath like a thin layer of ice. She now spoke with a cruel intelligence, and Namie realized just _what_ underhanded genius was. The girl was an ace at finding people's weaknesses and exploiting them for her own wicked benefit; her own victory. Even if they were comrades. That was her shortcoming—why she hadn't exceeded the rank of genin. It could be used for so, so much more, yet here she was, playing petty children's games, holding _herself_ back.

"Kyouya-kun didn't stand a chance against it, either." An overwhelming clarity settled in as the brunette kunoichi heaved her arms upwards in a carefree shrug, and Namie's own limbs rose up as easily as if she'd decided to move them herself, mimicking the gesture. "Frankly, it's disgusting that the other two fell for the same thing."

Namie's eyes traveled downwards to the ground, where her shadow connected with an unnatural extension alien to her own silhouette—the renowned Nara shadow-binding technique. Miho wasn't worthy enough to wield it. Not with that personality.

But for all of the shadows present around them and the bright source of light dousing them from behind, there was no way out of it.

"And, really, I'm sorry you had to be paired with the likes of them. Quite a step down from being a teammate with the White Fang's son. Even with everything that's happened, whatever mistakes _he's_ made, I hear his son's a promising genius. Genius is supposed to cultivate genius, don't you know. How did you end up here?"

"None of your goddamn business," Namie managed to bite out, pleased to discover the technique didn't completely control her as far as moving her jaw went.

"I'm only making conversation." Miho replied plainly, crossing her arms—and bringing Namie's along with them despite how hard she tried to resist.

This girl wasn't crazy—not wild in the sense of the kunoichi she'd encountered on her mission with Minato. Not the one who'd recklessly and violently wielded her mallet before her, taking glee in the pain and death of others. Not jaded and ruthless in the sense of the Iwa shinobi who'd kidnapped her, crippled her with fear. There wasn't anything broken about her, no, she was poised, she was driven—she knew exactly what she wanted. Perhaps she'd only gotten bored along the way.

Her face was one of someone who'd lost something—maybe validation, maybe the support she'd needed (genius is supposed to cultivate genius), and at some point she'd been left behind, and struggled forward in the only way she knew how: making others suffer; making them feel the same way she did. There wasn't anything broken about her. Only defeated.

If she knew she was only ruining herself, she didn't seem to care.

But her choices had caused someone close to her teammates to suffer. Namie didn't personally care much for Kyouya, really, but she couldn't forgive what the Nara had done. She'd give it back tenfold—once she was able.

"Don't—_don't talk to her_," Kohaku choked out, voice raw as she forced herself to speak, and Namie caught sight of her hand in the corner of her vision, clawing at the ground, seeking purchase, something familiar, while her eyesight returned. "She'll get in your head!"

Namie remained silent. Kept her eyes trained on the teenager standing confidently before her, toting a second scroll wrapped in a different color than the first they'd all been given. Team Two had already completed the task, she realized. Exchanged their scrolls at the checkpoint and were left with nothing more than to return to the starting point where the proctors awaited them. Already, they'd completed their objective when the confrontation began; when Team One finally caught up to Team Two to stop them from doing just that.

Nara Miho was two steps ahead. No—maybe more. Maybe she'd planned it from the start.

"It's a shame I can't fight you here, Namie-san. But I have a feeling it would be frowned upon and someone would face disqualification. Can't have that happen, now, can I?" She took a step backwards, which Namie had no choice but to copy. Took another, and another.

Namie walked backwards, past her two teammates left helpless on the ground, eyes swollen and watery, but she noticed that as the distance between them grew, the shadow connection thinned.

"Well, this was just a warning. I don't want those two getting in our way." She fell silent, offered a faint smile, pulling up her cheerful façade. "I can't control the technique past a certain distance. Once I'm far enough away, the connection will break. But we'll be long gone by then." As she spoke, her two teammates joined her at her side, looking back at Team One with smug smiles.

"Oh, there's only one scroll left at the exchange point, so try to hurry." She spared a few final words. Then, the shadows swallowed them.

Namie counted the seconds. Timed them with the beats of her heart.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Her fingers twitched. They slowly curled inwards, towards her palms, and her teeth clenched together. Her body was her own again.

She moved her feet.

Took a single step in the direction of the tower checkpoint, hearing only the Nara girl's remark about one scroll remaining—_one chance at continuing on in the exams—_before remembering her teammates were incapacitated.

No. This wasn't something she could do on her own. They were part of the team, too, and they had to do this together.

She shut her eyes and spun on her heel.

"_Hibiki! Kohaku!_"

Namie was at her teammates' sides in an instant, pulling her backpack from her shoulders and dropping it on the ground in front of her, digging through it for medical supplies. For medical balm. For water. Rags. Anything to help calm the inflammation. Her fingers fumbled against the cap of her canteen as she tried to twist it off—lost her patience and ripped it off when it wouldn't. Took Hibiki—who'd gotten the brunt of the attack and suffered silently, gritting his teeth and hissing, writhing and covering his eyes—by the chin and leaned his head back to pour the water over his eyes and flush out the pepper. Moved on to Kohaku once he took the bottle from her hands to help himself.

The girl had managed to open her eyes slightly by now, but Namie wasn't sure if she was seeing anything. She applied the same treatment to Kohaku, and the girl murmured words of thanks after accepting the second bottle.

"She got the jump on us," Hibiki admitted quietly, a little defeated, as he blinked his eyes and blearily glanced around, squinting past the dulling pain.

"She doesn't give a damn about us," Kohaku spat, eyes watering—whether they were tears or just a reaction to the irritant, Namie wasn't sure. "It wouldn't have mattered what we did."

Namie searched for something to say. Couldn't find the words.

"…Sorry for getting you involved in this, Namie-san." Hibiki's words were barely above a whisper, yet they seemed to echo in the silence. "Because of us, because of our plan, we might have jeopardized our chance to advance to the next stage."

"Guess you know why we didn't get promoted along with Kyouya, now, huh?" Kohaku said bitterly, rubbing irately at one eye. "All we think of is ourselves. If we didn't—if we showed half as much concern as you do for us—the incident during the last exams never would have happened."

She lowered her eyes to the ground, to the dirty bandages wrapped around her hands, remembering her moment of hesitation where she only thought about the objective, the scroll, the checkpoint—the chance to become a chūnin. Noticed that her fingers were curled against the dirt—noticed the tension in her brow where her eyebrows furrowed together. Felt the soft skin of the inside of her lip between her teeth.

For all she believed in teamwork and teammates being important, precious things, she'd been willing to throw it all away for an exam. It didn't work like that—no matter who was involved. People she'd known for her entire life, for only a year, for only a few short weeks... It was a moment of weakness. A lapse in judgment—and impatience. It wouldn't happen again.

She forced herself to relax and exhaled. "I may not be so different." Kohaku's head jerked up as she cast a bleary gaze in the blonde's direction, blinking rapidly to keep her in sight through the mist in her eyes. "But your teammate—Kyouya—is still alive. Be thankful."

The two Uchiha lapsed into a pensive, meek silence as they considered the girl's words. There was something in her tone, surrounding her words, that gave the statement an unspeakable weight.

Kohaku opened her mouth, then shut it, floundering for a response. It was Hibiki who ended up speaking. "…We just have to let it go. What Nara Miho did was unforgivable, but we can't—we can't let it drive us. We're not here to get revenge. Not now."

"We were wrong," Kohaku asserted, slowly pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her clothes. She offered her hand to Hibiki, who accepted it and was brought to his feet as well. They stood firmly, surely, exchanging a meaningful glance before turning their attention to Namie, renewed. "Let's get that scroll."

* * *

The old tiles of the forest's central tower creaked beneath their weight as they walked into the building, searching for the checkpoint. They'd entered into a large, open antechamber barren of decoration or direction—the off-white and tan colors of the chipped, stone walls and the several, faded notes and seal papers splattered across it were all that surrounded them, lined with shadows that retreated into corridors branching off into the back wall and the overhanging tiers of the level above. Stray ivy vines ventured past the open windows and trailed down to the floor in a timid attempt at returning the structure to nature.

Namie glanced around the room, scanning it over just to make sure she didn't miss anything vital. Nothing. Her eyes lingered on the windows, noticing the faint light that streamed in. The tower stood in a part of the forest that wasn't as dense or dark—the tree branches thinned out above it to account for its height, allowing for sunlight to filter through in the gaps around it. Like a metaphorical light in the darkness—if only it were that simple.

Not a soul was there to greet them.

The exchange checkpoint was nowhere in sight.

"Guess it wouldn't be so easy," Namie sighed. "We'll have to do some searching." She headed towards the hallway on the left.

She didn't make it a step before another team burst through the doors behind them, making quite the spectacle of themselves as they collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting.

"_Phew,_ I thought we'd never make it here!" one of the genin exclaimed, pushing himself up on his elbows as he stared up at the ceiling.

He was a clan kid, Namie noticed. They all were. Beneath all the dirt and muck the trio of genin were covered in, she could spot the lineage symbols on their clothing in various places: a Hyuuga, an Akimichi and another she wasn't quite familiar with, but it was too prominent to be random clothing insignia.

The obscure-clan kunoichi quickly rose to her feet and grabbed the doors, closing them with a sound _bang_ and keeping her hands pressed firmly against them, to keep them shut. At first, the blonde thought the motion was meant to close off her own team; to prevent them from leaving with the exchange item. But, then, why was she still pushing her full weight against the door…?

Her answer came in the form of a low rumble; the ground quaked beneath their feet, just faintly, but noticeable enough that Hibiki briefly lost his footing. It wasn't tectonics, she was certain—something above ground caused it.

Then, the doors shook as a great mass knocked against the outside, nearly throwing them open—and would have, if not for the fact that the other two genin hopped up on their feet and helped their teammate barricade them.

"_It's here!_"

"What is that? What's here?!" Namie cried, torn between taking a step toward the newly-arrived trio and retreating further into the tower to finish her team's search for the checkpoint. Kohaku and Hibiki stood their ground, tense and ready to crouch into a fighting stance as the doors quaked once again—and exploded in a shower of splinters.

The three genin were thrown back by the force—but if they remained where they were, would have been crushed as a giant centipede burst into the room, throwing its girth forward to land with a deafening crash upon the tiles—destroying them. Its several legs writhed as it pushed itself up, poised like a snake bent against the ceiling, and sought out its target. Rather—out of the six present, it only had eyes for the team it followed, who were armed with kunai and shuriken, desperate to protect themselves as their foe closed in.

"We should go," Kohaku whispered harshly, grasping Namie's arm urgently and giving a slight tug as she stepped backwards, away from the creature. "This isn't something we should get caught up in. If we sneak into the hallway—"

Namie's attention was fixed on the Uchiha girl, yet from the corner of her eye—and from the vibrations that traveled through the ground—she saw the centipede rush the trio of genin in a red blur.

They didn't stand a chance.

It worked to their advantage—it meant one less competing team, especially when they were both so close to the checkpoint. One of them would be leaving with the scroll, and Namie dearly wished it would be Team One. If she left things the way they were, it _would_ be her team's victory.

…However, children trembling in terror in the face of danger wasn't something she could just turn a blind eye to.

She wrenched her arm away from Kohaku against her better judgment and took off running to help the clan kids in their struggle, reaching for the scroll that held her mallet.

"_Namie!_"

The girl's cries went ignored; the soles of Namie's ninja sandals skidded along the ground as she stopped in the oversized arthropod's attack path, forcing its chitinous torso to collide with the head of her mallet as she gave a mighty swing—put her all into knocking it away.

It barely budged.

But it did stop.

Namie's eyes traveled up, up—taking in the great height of the bug-on-steroids as its trunk rose toward the ceiling and its thorn-like appendages oscillated. Its antennae quivered, its head titled ever-so-slightly as it glanced down at the children standing before it in awe as if they were in the presence of a god or something equally as fearsome—and may as well have been, for the fact that it could easily destroy them.

_Just where were those supposed examiners tasked with keeping an eye on them?_

The thought barely finished running through her mind when the centipede struck out, darting forward in a smooth arc, ready to grab with its legs, crush with its jaws that were closing in much, _much _quicker than she expected and, oh, ninja training never did cover combat with _mutated bugs_ that could do god-knows-what and what if she died here it would be a stupid death it really would just who gets eaten by a giant centipede during the chūnin exams no less—

"DUCK!"

Namie's head snapped to the side as an unfamiliar voice burst through the tension, and she saw Hibiki dash out from behind Kohaku with a fierce, determined concentration on his face as his fingers weaved a series of seals and his lips slowly parted, and the faint flicker of a spark could be seen between his teeth before it erupted into a full-blown fireball that shot straight through the air like an arrow aimed true—and she barely _did_ have time to heed his words and drop down as the flames cut through the narrow space left between her and the centipede.

It came close, but the fireball jutsu missed the creature completely—only scorched the ends of its antennae as it drew back wildly, emitted a high-pitched cry and wheeled backwards, losing its balance and crashing over sideways, writhing.

A second stream of fire splashed against the tiles in front of the centipede, and it shrank away from the heat, retreating further. Kohaku and Hibiki rejoined Namie and stood as a barricade in front of the trio of genin, replacing them as the forest beast's opponents.

The aim here wasn't to kill, no, but to drive it back. Away from the tower.

While Kohaku continued a steady assault of fireballs, Hibiki stepped forward and began a separate series of hand seals, fingers weaving fluidly together in a blur—and they fixed on the final sign as he caught the creature with an unblinking stare—and his Sharingan blazed.

The centipede went still, as if turned to stone, frozen in a gnarled, defensive slump, and not one of its legs quivered as a genjutsu settled over it like dust.

Then, its body rose up once more, though the motion was jerky. Almost robotic. It wavered for a moment, as if weak and ready to topple over, but then it turned, actions becoming smoother the more it moved. It turned and retreated through the broken doorway, legs scurrying in unison, and it dragged itself along the ground and into the bushes until it was well out of sight.

Hibiki dropped the hand seal and closed his eyes, heaving a great breath as his knees gave out and he collapsed. Kohaku was at his side in an instant, holding him up and muttering rapidly under her breath about chakra control as he panted and sweat dripped from beneath his forehead protector, trickling down his face.

Namie watched them for a moment, felt the slight pang of envy as Kohaku fretted over her teammate with care, reaching into her backpack for a lilac-colored handkerchief she used to dab at the boy's clammy skin, which he half-heartedly tried to push away. There was a bit more than just camaraderie there—she could see it in the tender actions. It wasn't a moment she wanted to intrude on.

A faint smile crossed her lips before it dropped back into a frown and she turned to face the three genin who'd brought calamity in their wake. She set the handle of her mallet against her shoulder as she keenly studied the three, narrowing her eyes.

Seeing the blonde broke them out of their stupor and they began to collect themselves, sheathing their weapons and having the decency to at least look ashamed of the entire spectacle. Someone cleared their throat, and the kunoichi wearing the unknown clan insignia stepped forward, putting herself between her team and Namie. She held herself with a type of forced dignity that was completely out of place among the ruined antechamber that was still shrouded in thin clouds of dust and debris.

"Thank—thank you." She choked on her words. A faint pink tinge overtook her cheeks as she glanced away. "Thank you for that. It was our fault."

"It was _my_ fault," the Hyuuga boy interrupted, jumping to his feet. "We interrupted the nest and I accidentally crushed some of the monster's eggs—I didn't mean to."

"Hold on. They didn't _have_ to help." The Akimichi boy was on his feet as well, hurrying to his teammates' sides. "There's no need to thank them. This doesn't change anything."

Namie raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the mallet handle in her grip. "You can say that, but you looked like you pissed yourself."

The boy shrunk back and looked away with a troubled expression, running his hands through his fair, spiky hair. He mumbled something she couldn't quite hear.

"It doesn't matter," the girl interrupted. "He's right. We are grateful, but we're still opponents. We heard there was only one scroll left here."

"We never expected you to let us just take it," Kohaku spat out as she approached the group with one of Hibiki's arms slung around her shoulders. He offered Namie a vague but reassuring half-smile when she glanced his way in concern. "But we won't give it up easily, either." An unhappy frown marred her pretty face as she bit her lip, and her expression clearly read she wished she would have insisted that Namie follow her and Hibiki to locate the checkpoint before getting involved with this team's mess.

Namie glanced at her teammates, then looked over to the other three genin. Neither team looked particularly fit to compete despite their words. She shut her eyes and exhaled briefly, then let her mallet fall from her shoulder as she sealed it back into a scroll. Brushed her hands together to shake off the dust and set her hands on her hips, standing tall. "We'll compete, then. One of you versus me. We'll have a race to see who makes it to the checkpoint first, and whoever makes it—well, gets to take the exchange item back to the examiners and move on to the next stage."

Kohaku opened her mouth to protest, but Hibiki shook his head and she remained silent. Without a word, she passed their scroll over to the blonde.

She watched the trio exchange looks before turning their backs to hold council. The Hyuuga's high ponytail bobbed as he nodded his head, and a pained, bitter expression remained rigid on the Akimichi's face as they discussed the matter with their kunoichi teammate. Finally, the girl turned to face the blonde and took a moment to straighten her forehead protector, tightening the knot, before speaking. "We accept. There's no telling when someone else will come along, so we need to get this over with. I'll do it." Her words were firm, yet her eyes were restless. Nervous.

Namie nodded. "Okay." She looked past the brunette kunoichi, to the Hyuuga boy. "You, give us the start signal."

"A-ah, right. Ready?" He paused as the two kunoichi moved to stand side by side, one cracking her knuckles and the other remaining still. "_Go!_"

The two girls tore off in a blur of color, each heading towards the same hallway, close on each other's heels.

The kunoichi was following her, Namie realized. But it was a smart move—splitting up would result in someone finding it first and someone else missing the mark completely. If they kept each other within their sights, they would reach their destination at the same time, and then, whoever met the goal first would secure victory. It was a matter of luck.

The walls closed in on them as they entered the dimly-lit hallway, racing neck-and-neck, feet pounding soundlessly against the tiles as they ran, barely touching the ground for their speed.

The hallway turned sharply right and Namie barely cleared the edge of the wall with as close as the other girl was traveling, and her feet skidded as she reached for purchase on the ground to keep from crashing into the wall as she careened around it. The clan girl gained the lead.

Weak lights flickered overhead as they traveled deeper into the corridors, sometimes casting them completely in shadow when they failed, but their goal could be seen clearly—there, at the end of the long stretch of the hall, was a set of double doors, shut tight. There was nowhere else to go; if the checkpoint didn't lie beyond those doors, they would have to double back and search the other hallway that branched off of the antechamber.

A set of spiraling stairs greeted them. Namie pushed herself, scaling them two at a time, and quickly caught up with the kunoichi again, matching her pace and keeping them tied. Her foot was the first that reached the second level, and she pulled ahead by a few precious paces as she kept her eyes focused on the next door that blocked their way.

Something was beyond it. She could feel it.

_The checkpoint…!_

Namie threw her full weight against the doors, shoving them open, and stumbled past them when they gave way.

A vast, empty room greeted her. No—even with it being empty, there was a great presence in the statue that stood just opposite her across the large room, looming like a mountain. It was something she'd seen before—blurry in her mind, yet familiar. A landmark.

She pressed onward. Ran towards the statue, seeing the small, rectangular pedestal standing before it, holding a single, red-wrapped scroll with a golden tie in all its glory.

_The checkpoint._

The kunoichi was at her side again in an instant, running full tilt, refusing to lose this opportunity.

Shoulder knocked against shoulder—they ran together, as one, both stretching out their hands as they neared the table, closing in rapidly, meters becoming centimeters—

Fingertips brushed the edges of the scroll—

A hand closed around it, seizing victory.

Namie barely kept herself from crashing into the table as a grin of triumph stretched across her lips and she glanced down in wonder at the scroll clutched between her bandage-wrapped fingers, as if it were a trophy. She looked over to the girl, not to gloat, but to check her reaction, check for retaliation, and what she saw was a mirror image.

The clan kunoichi's stared, eyes wide in wonder; her jaw unhinged as she, too, held a scroll in her hand.

The blonde's grin shifted into an astonished smile. "Well, I'll be damned. There were _two_."

* * *

**A/N:** Still a bit iffy on some parts of this chapter, but, well, here it is! Should be pretty clean, too, but if I missed a typo or two please excuse my tired eyes.

Thanks for reading and see you next update!


	37. Thirty-three

**Chapter Thirty-three: Stage Two, Epiphany**

* * *

The two kunoichi rejoined their respective teams in the damaged antechamber, no longer immediate competitors but fellow genin who'd been caught up in a clever scheme meant to turn them against each other that only ended up drawing a sort of kindred friendship between them instead.

The kunoichi's name was Sarutobi Yuuka—as soon as she heard the surname, the familiar clan marking registered in her mind like it should have been obvious from the start, though she'd never seen the only Sarutobi she was extensively acquainted with display that particular symbol anywhere on his clothing, and she only knew it from reading up on Konoha's history and its supporting clans. The clan was dwindling, from what she knew, but there were a few remaining relatives that upheld the name. The girl was only distantly related to the Hokage.

"Sandaime? What does he have to do with it?" Namie asked, comfortable around the girl and her teammates now that they weren't struggling against each other.

Yuuka turned to her and raised an eyebrow, as if she expected her to understand. "Well, for one, he's the most prominent clansman in the family aside from his late father. Two, one of his sons was your teacher, I've heard."

The answer hit her like a sucker punch. "'Son…?' _Hiroto-sensei is?_" She repeated the words for confirmation, too flabbergasted to grasp them properly. If he was one of Hiruzen's sons, then…well…she didn't know how many children he had, but there was a chance he would become the father to Konohamaru in the future.

"That's right," the girl answered with a cheery nod. "One of two. Asuma-kun's still really young, though. And…." She seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but held her tongue and shrugged with a smile, ending her response. "You didn't know?"

Then he was definitely meant to become the father to Konohamaru, in that case. The realization squeezed the breath out of her lungs and she felt a delirious, forced smile rise to her face.

"I…didn't."

Really, she didn't know much about Hiroto at all. Even if he'd been around for years. Even if he'd been her teacher. But it wasn't as if they'd ever gone through a get-to-know-each-other routine. It would have been even more terse, straight-and-to-the-point than Kakashi's future Team Seven meet and greet.

But, more importantly, just what if he'd _died_ during the catastrophic mission that led to his retirement? Just how fucked would history be when Konohamaru wasn't born? Even if he didn't hold a terribly prominent role as far as she knew, he was still a future-friend to Naruto. Similar to the relationship she'd had with Kushina when they were younger. The boy deserved that.

Namie leaned against the wall behind her and briefly closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms against the eyelids. This new chunk of knowledge was a great weight. Another responsibility to throw in with the rest. "That guy..."

The fact that this was all secondhand information, like an afterthought, from a girl she'd just met in the chūnin exams irked her beyond belief. More than it should have. She smacked a fist against the wall behind her before pushing away from it and approaching Kohaku and Hibiki, who chatted quietly with the Akimichi and Hyuuga boys.

"We should get back to the examiners. How much longer do we have?"

"Just under twelve hours," the Hyuuga replied.

"Plenty of time," Kohaku added. "And rather than pressing on with soldier pills, why don't we stop and have an actual meal? Resting up is a plus, as well. After all that's happened." She added the last part quickly, though her eyes flicked to Hibiki, who didn't quite look up to one-hundred percent just yet. It wasn't a suggestion.

"There's a river nearby," Yuuka piped up as she packed the checkpoint scroll away in her backpack, carefully, as if it were made of thin glass. "Saw it on the way here. We can set up a perimeter so we won't be ambushed, cook what we catch and…just take a break."

Waiting and wasting more time wasn't something Namie wanted to do, then, but it couldn't be avoided with Hibiki's current state. The longer they waited, the further Nara Miho and her team ran ahead. Probably, they were close to returning to Koemi and Masato, by now. Always a few steps ahead.

But, for now…that could wait.

* * *

Team One and Team Six—as Yuuka's team had been called—arrived at the forest's exit with time to spare. Team Two and four other unknown groups awaited them, with one other loitering near the medic tent, receiving treatment.

The eight teams promised to pass were all present.

Koemi was in the midst of speaking to the medic nin stationed at the tent, too busy to acknowledge them, so Masato met them in her place.

"Well, well. Looks like we've got our victors for this round," the sandy-haired man speculated with a grin playing at his lips. As expected, he recorded the results on his clipboard. After his pen finished scratching against paper, he glanced up at the eight teams with bright eyes. "So, Teams One, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, and Eleven will advance to Stage Two, which is," he paused with a dramatic flair, yet no one was impressed. Only impatient. He quickly read the atmosphere and his shoulders drooped a bit as he revealed the next task. "Team-versus-team battles." He gauged the crowd for their reaction, yet they revealed nothing. He sighed. "To determine which team you'll be up against, turn in the checkpoint scroll to me and I'll assign you a number." His voiced maintained the enthusiasm despite the crowd's bland focus.

The seven teams crowded around the examiner and handed over their scrolls one at a time. Namie caught Yuuka's eye and they exchanged a nod of understanding—knowing that perhaps it would be their teams pitted against each other in the next round.

But it wasn't.

"Team Eleven—who's Team Eleven?" Kohaku muttered under her breath as they received their match-up, scanning each face in the small crowd to find the ones designated as their competition.

"Don't know." Namie gave a shrug, half-relieved and half-pissed off that they didn't get paired up with the Nara girl's team. She owed her one. A big one.

And preferably in the form of knuckles striking teeth.

But…her shadow technique was a giant, glaring obstacle standing in the way of that.

"It's that team without a kunoichi over there," Hibiki contributed, eyeing a three-man squad that consisted of surly-looking teenage boys oozing testosterone and just itching for a fight. A plain brunet, one with a shaven head, and one more squat and sturdy than the other two. A group of muscle heads, Namie concluded. But she knew better than to judge them based solely on their combative demeanors and compulsive knuckle-cracking. They'd made it back to the gate before their team had, anyway. Even with the detour.

Masato clapped his hands together, regaining the crowd's attention, and by then Koemi sauntered back over to his side to give the passing teams a quick once-over of approval. "Alright, that takes care of that. Everyone's paired up and the team battles will be as follows. Please raise your hands as we call your team number so everyone's clear on their opponents." He checked his clipboard and seemed to be writing down the roster as he spoke it. "Team One versus Team Eleven."

The trio of jock-shinobi sent curious leers towards the blonde and her Uchiha teammates in unison as soon the instant they raised their hands. If Namie wasn't mistaken, there was a wavering spark of uncertainty in their eyes as they spotted the clan symbols on Kohaku and Hibiki's clothing.

"Team Two versus Team Six."

Ah.

Her new enemy versus her new friend. A brief sense of loss seized her as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that she wanted to fight Miho—to rub her nose in the dirt, really—and the desire to see Yuuka and her team end up the victors.

She wasn't stupid enough to believe they would—not when Nara Miho was against them. By the look on Yuuka's face, she was fighting against the same thought and did her best to remain steeled in the face of her opponent. Miho spared her only a brief glance.

"Team Four versus Team Nine, and Team Five versus Team Eight."

Koemi clapped her hands together and a grin rose to her pale lips. "That's that, then! You'll all be meetin' back here in this exact spot in two—uh, no, three to account fer Team Nine's injuries—days' time to begin Stage Two. Rest up an' come prepared to fight!"

They didn't plan on doing anything less.

* * *

Namie wasn't worried about the trio of genin her team was set to fight. Certainly, she and the two Uchiha had much improvement to make concerning communication and trust, but combative teamwork was one of their strengths. No, that wasn't the issue here.

It was the possibility—no, the _desire_—that she would face Miho again and be terribly unprepared to handle her cunning jutsu that ate away at her thoughts and stole hours of sleep from her at night.

Had there ever been a way to counter it…? No matter how hard she scrubbed her mind for clues, she couldn't find the memories. Wasn't sure. Doubted it, really. One of its most prominent users took down an immortal with it, but then again was recognized genius. She wasn't sure how far up the ladder of talent Miho was, but she was far from stupid.

Her only remaining choice was to interrogate the people she knew.

"The Nara clan's jutsu? Nope, haven't fought against it before. Why're you asking, Namie-chan?" Kushina probably wasn't the best person to ask, and she wasn't her first choice, either—Minato was busy with his duties, however, and Namie happened to run into the energetic redhead while she browsed groceries in the market district.

"I'm taking the chūnin exams and there are a few clan kids around. Pretty sure I can handle most of them, but those shadows…" she trailed off with a shrug, accepting the vegetable-crammed paper bag shoved into her arms without complaint.

The Habanero flashed one of her trademark grins as she sank into a half-serious fighting pose and punched the air in front of her with powerful but graceful force with her free hand while the other held another grocery sack. "Just give 'em the old one-two, 'ttebane! Before they even know what's hit 'em! Then they can't really counter, right?"

'_Sure, maybe that would work if I was _Hurricane Kushina,_'_ she was tempted to say, but managed to hold her tongue and gave a wry smile instead. Her lips dropped into a frown as it hit her though—metaphorically—Kushina was onto something with her exuberant, physically-violent gusto. It was something she should have realized sooner, really. As long as she kept Miho busy and too distracted to start up the technique, she'd never have the chance to turn the tides in her favor.

Then, just like that, the dam broke open and ideas began to flow. Really, it wasn't so difficult from the start. Before she was caught in the jutsu, the playing field belonged to her. There were numerous ways around the binding technique—it wasn't the end until she actually ended up caught in its hold.

She would make damn sure that didn't happen again.

* * *

Team One and Eleven were first up as soon as all participating genin arrived at the Forest of Death for team matches. No warm-up, no prep time—right into battle.

Twenty-four genin remained in the running: no one was naïve enough to think this wasn't the elimination round.

As with everything else, there were no rules binding them save for the shinobi code of conduct and the restriction that they weren't allowed to _kill_ their comrades since, as Masato reminded them once again, this wasn't that type of exam.

The six genin faced each other in the makeshift arena of flat, barren forest ground, creating two perfectly parallel lines of bodies as they awaited the examiners' starting signal. The other six teams lingered on the sidelines, close, but not close enough to catch the backlash from any attacks, and Masato remained in the distance with them to act as a buffer while Koemi stood between teams One and Eleven, silent as she prepared to set them loose to battle.

Time seemed to slow down to an agonizing rate as the woman's arm rose up through the heavy air and her lips parted, but the words took forever to leave her mouth.

Namie felt the prickle of perspiration just beneath the rough fabric of her hitai-ate and, despite the chilled air around them, a nervous heat of excitement seized her. Her fingers itched to hold the cold steel of a kunai, to grip the smooth hilt of her mallet—she wanted to taste the earth, to taste blood and _victory_ and as soon as her burning gaze met the dark eyes of the brunet opponent standing directly before her, she knew it was only moments away from her grasp.

Fear—there was fear in the boy's stare, but he wasn't afraid of her. He was afraid of _losing_ and she knew he'd already lost just by thinking it because it meant he wasn't prepared and he didn't trust in his teammates and that small, simple observation alone pushed a full-fledged smile onto her lips as Koemi's voice rang loud and clear through the ringing silence and time sped up once again and everything exploded into action at once.

"BEGIN!"

The woman body flickered away from the midst of the fight the instant she'd spoken, and the two teams launched their first attacks.

Two snakes of fire sprawled through the air to meet a barrage of spinning blades head-on, blazing the metal into white-hot stars that bent under heat and lost their shape, becoming formless blobs that dripped to the ground in molten heaps.

A second wave of shuriken zipped between the flames, relentless, accompanied by a geyser of water that pulsed toward the Uchihas' twin fireball jutsu and doused them in a burst of steam and left the two vulnerable to attack. An earthen wall surged upward from the ground to cut off the enemy technique and shielded the Uchiha genin as they deflected the projectiles with deftly-wielded kunai.

The quickly-constructed wall of dirt crumbled under a powerful kick and a flash of sparks, spraying debris in every direction as the three boys charged in with a frontal attack.

Namie caught the boy whose eyes had been filled with fear—now, with determination—around the neck with her arm in a clothesline move and threw him back as his teammates surged forward to engage the others of Team One and he dropped toward the ground, catching himself before he crashed and rolled backwards and back onto his feet, taking a second to recover before folding his hands together in a series of seals—but by then, Namie was already gone, sunk deep within the earth and moving towards her teammates, target set.

Her fingers sprung up through the ground and grasped the ankle of the genin fighting Kohaku—one swift tug, and he was encased up to the neck. The Uchiha gave the blonde a brief nod of thanks before whipping around to go to Hibiki's aid, braid bouncing behind her.

A shuriken zinged past the blonde's face, just a mite too close, and split open the skin of her ear as it flew by. She stepped back on impulse and grabbed at her ear to suppress the sting and found two arms clamped around her in a vice hold. She shifted her weight, tried to offset the boy's balance and use momentum to overthrow him, but a fist rapped her sharply on the head and she saw stars. A well-placed kick to the knee and she was down, shoved aside and doused with a jet of water. She swiped the moisture away from her eyes and blinked rapidly through her matted bangs, spotting a wicked grin spread across the brunet boy's face as he held a final hand seal and sparks danced around him.

She became acutely aware of her drenched state and hesitated, froze up, knowing just what would happen the moment that lightning chakra hit her. She raised her hands to perform an earth-style technique, but knew better—that electricity would only render it useless. Then, a substitute—she snagged hold of the plan and rapidly weaved through the required hand seals, seeking out a replacement and forcing it in her place.

Namie hit the ground on her knees in a freshly-dug dent on the earth where a tree stump previously stood, just in time to see the object taking the brunt of the electrocution, coming out of it as nothing but a charred block. Her eyes darted across the arena to find her teammates. Kohaku, locked in combat with the squat boy nearby, glanced over briefly to assess the damage and returned to her opponent the moment she caught the blonde's eye—then quickly looked back to shout, but by then a body blocked her view and a sudden blow rained down on her.

Namie pushed off from the ground and rolled out of the way as the bald-headed genin's heel slammed down into the dirt where she'd been only moments before—he was their taijutsu powerhouse, she realized, jaw dropping as the hit left a small crater in the ground and sent up a wave of dirt.

She reached for the scroll that held her mallet on instinct and withdrew it without hesitation, using it to block the genin's punch and keep him at bay as he charged.

_Hibiki—where was Hibiki?_

Her answer came in the form of her slack-jawed enemy. He'd frozen up mid-punch and his hands fell uselessly to his sides as his eyes glazed over and irises slowly traced an unconnected pattern upwards into the sky, looking at something unseen, until they rolled into his skull and he keeled over, unconscious.

The mousy-haired Uchiha darted out from behind Namie and cut across the arena in a straight line for Kohaku, who'd surrounded her enemy in flames that were just as quickly extinguished.

A stream of lightning zapped the ground at her feet as she made to follow him.

The brunet boy scowled at her and rushed in for close combat—revenge, she was certain—and his kunai clashed with the hilt of her mallet. She gave a rough shove and knocked him away, using the distance to swing her weapon in a mindful, adjusted arc, meant to damage and not kill, to catch him in the side—ended up hitting his arm and heard the satisfying creaking of bones as something snapped.

His right arm fell uselessly down, but he withdrew another kunai and moved in for another straightforward strike with a yell. Namie shifted her weight and set the mallet against the ground, using it as leverage to vault her leg into the air and catch him square in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He dropped to his knees, wheezing, clutching at his sternum, and before Namie could make the finishing move by knocking him out via pressure point, he froze up in the same manner as his teammate, glazed eyes staring into a fantasy as Hibiki's genjutsu captured him. He dropped sideways and slept on the earth as if it were his own bed.

Two down—no, three.

Namie glanced sharply to her side to see Hibiki and Kohaku, mostly unharmed and only a little damp from sweat and water techniques, but smiling. It was their victory, but she'd known that from the start.

"Winners: Team One!" Koemi shouted out as she entered the arena once again, followed by a trio of medic-nin who immediately tended to the fallen team. She stood before the two Uchiha and the blonde with an approving grin. "Team One advances to Stage Three!"

It was just too easy.

Masato ushered them to the first-aid station as soon as they set foot outside of the arena and the next teams took their place, but Namie paused and stayed to watch as Nara Miho and Sarutobi Yuuka took up positions opposite each other, ready to fight.

The green-eyed Senju gave the signal—yet no one moved.

No—only Yuuka, the Hyuuga and Akimichi were still. Not by choice. Miho's shadow snaked out across the ground like a net and ensnared the three in its clutches, freezing them in place and the terror, the shock, the utter defeat displayed on the trio's faces as realization sunk in was difficult to bear. They hadn't expected it and they couldn't counter it.

Loss happened in an instant. Team Two's male shinobi launched forward and dealt heavy blows to the other team, dropping them all in a dead faint, ending the match within a minute.

It was hardly fair—seemed like an underhanded trick. Namie made to step forward, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

"Namie-san, your ear," Kohaku said pointedly, eyeing the blood seeping from the split skin. "Let's get you to the medic."

"It's nothing." The blonde reached up to her ear to cover the injury and protect it from the frigid air, yet kept her eyes trained on Team Two. The Nara kunoichi briefly caught her gaze and managed a small, wickedly self-satisfied and weasel-like smirk in her direction before following her teammate-lackeys to the sidelines with bounce in her step, basking in the quick victory.

Kohaku gave another insistent tug and Namie let her drag her along without complaint.

By the time Team One weaved their way through the crowd of genin and made it across the field to the first-aid tent, Team Six was already receiving care, still unconscious and resting on cots that lined the far side of the shelter. Namie wondered if they'd even realized what hit them—if they even knew they'd lost the moment the battle began, not given a single chance to retaliate or even make their first move.

"Namie!"

The blonde found herself being steered by the shoulders and parked on a medical cot as a wet cloth was pressed against her ear to stem the steady bleeding and a familiar face greeted her. Taji, who she barely recognized when wrapped up in that cream-colored field medic frock and beret, with her hair pulled back and only escaping from beneath the hat in wisps. There was an unmistakable glint of worry in dark eyes, though they were more focused on observing and sanitizing her wound than looking at her face and worrying over her as a daughter—she was in full business mode.

"Mom," she mumbled the greeting, suppressing a hiss when antiseptic stung the split skin and burned away bacteria and whatever lingered from the shuriken blade that caused the wound. It hurt more than she expected—she wondered if it would scar and leave her looking like a ratty alley cat with a notched ear. Well, with Taji there, it probably wouldn't happen. Sure enough, she brought out the surgical thread and began stitching it up.

She could see Kohaku and Hibiki resting across the room, conversing in low tones as the medics checked them over. From what she could tell, the two Uchiha hadn't received any damage aside from fatigue—Hibiki's usage of genjutsu did wear on him, especially for three opponents. Her attention returned to the brunette woman when the decisive snip of scissors met her ears and a bandage was pressed gently across her ear.

"There, you're set."

She raised a hand to assess the medical care and fiddle with the awkward feeling of the thing wrapped around it, but quickly dropped her fingers at the sharp look Taji sent her.

It briefly occurred to her that she'd ended up in the medical bay even though she'd tried to stay unharmed, despite the injury being minor. "…Thanks."

The woman spared her a brief nod and smile as she dried her hands on a towel and glanced around the room at the other patients. This wasn't a time to talk, she knew, though she would have liked to. It was most likely a coincidence that her adoptive mother was the one to tend to her.

"I'll see you at home. Don't pick at that," were her final words on the matter before she moved on to the next batch of genin who'd been ushered into the tent.

The brief respite didn't last long—ten minutes later and the team matches came to an end, with all victors decided.

The twelve genin meant to advance to Stage Three stood before Koemi and Masato as the two began to explain the next part of the exam, undaunted by the light drizzle that began to fall from the sky.

"Congrats on getting' this far," Koemi started, beaming like a ball of sunshine even in the dreary weather. "This's the point of the exam where your actions as a team come to an end and you start workin' as individual units."

"That is," Masato picked up, "Stage Three is where you will be fighting each other one-on-one to display your abilities in full. It will be a public event held in the stadium in two weeks' time.

"Unlike this round, you won't be given your opponents' names beforehand and it'll be randomized for the occasion. The six winners immediately advance to the finals, that is, three one-on-one matches, and the three genin remaining will be prioritized in the consideration for promotion based on overall performance in the entirety of the exam," he concluded.

"Couldn't've said it better myself! Any questions?" Koemi asked.

One of the male genin raised his hand. "What do you mean prioritized? We won't automatically become chūnin when we win?"

'_When_,' Namie thought with no small amount of humor, '_how confident._'

The Senju woman hummed. "Yer all being evaluated from start to finish, here. Just because ya lose doesn't mean ya completely lose the chance ta become chūnin. Just 'cause ya win doesn't mean ya automatically get it either." Namie could've been mistaken, but she thought she saw the woman's green eyes dart briefly towards Nara Miho. But it could have been a trick of the dwindling light as clouds passed overhead.

A quiet murmur ran through the group before they fell silent once more, awaiting further direction.

Masato nodded. "Then, we look forward to seeing you all there. As always, if anyone doesn't show or arrives late, they will accept forfeit and end their participation in the—"

"Wait a second," someone interrupted, and it took Namie a moment to realize Kohaku was speaking beside her, hand raised in question.

"Oh, yes? Another question?"

The girl nodded. "You said we stop acting as teams. Does that mean we may have to fight one of our teammates in this next stage?"

Koemi nodded. "Ya sure might! There may come a time in yer lives where ya have to fight friends as enemies, so you gotta have the will to do that, and be prepared. It's entirely possible," she replied blithely, though there was firmness in her tone that held no humor. This, just as everything else, held an underlying lesson.

It wasn't something Namie had considered before, and her eyes slowly wandered towards her teammates, who shared the glance.

With a creeping sense of dread, she realized fighting Nara Miho wasn't the biggest obstacle she'd be facing in this test and it had been foolish to focus on it as much as she had, because now there was something else to worry about—Hibiki and Kohaku.

* * *

Team One—no longer a team, now—made the unanimous decision to go their separate ways during the two-week preparation period for the exam finals since sticking together would only be counterproductive if they were to become potential opponents.

But the team had served its purpose—they'd gotten to the point where they'd wanted to be together, and though it had been fleeting, though they hadn't exactly come to understand each other, there were no ill feelings born between the three. Namie was under no illusion they ever _would_ become close, since they had their other teammate to worry about, as well as their clan. She'd always gotten the feeling they viewed her as an outsider despite their warmth in welcoming her and treating her as an equal and not some burden of a child. They were still Uchiha, after all.

Uchiha who were proficient with genjutsu.

If only she knew her lack of ability with resistance would come back to bite her in the ass like this—she wasn't hopeful enough to believe her handle on resisting genjutsu had magically improved since her fight with that rogue kunoichi who wasn't even an Uchiha. Plus, she'd only ever been exposed to illusions cast by basic users—never from someone whose lineage was rife with fine control of the skill.

She should have taken Hiroto more seriously. Hadn't he told her? Warned her? Tried to help her?

But he wasn't there to help her, not anymore, and she couldn't even approach him to talk strategy.

So when she found herself wandering down the familiar path to the hospital, damn near coming close to the building entrance itself, she dug her feet into the ground and forced herself to walk in the opposite direction. Because god forbid her ex-teacher look out the window and see her lurking about outside like some weirdo.

'_I'm an idiot,_' Namie decided, slapping her palm to her forehead.

"Now there's a familiar face."

The blonde lowered her hand and glanced over her shoulder to see someone she hadn't seen in quite some time—and, with a twinge of guilt, nearly forgot about completely despite being part of the same friend group. "Oh, Genma. Long time no see." She eyed the medicated bandages wrapped around his forearms and plastered to his face with a raised brow. "Training been rough, huh?"

He gave a small shrug as he looked down at his injured arm and spoke around the ever-present dango stick set between his lips. "Thanks to an angry housecat."

She grimaced in sympathy. Baby mission detail wasn't something she wanted to go back to any time soon. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"They weren't the ones who had to _hold_ the cat, so they went ahead without me—ah, you don't know, do you? The whole group's meeting for lunch today. You should come along for once, Namie."

Right. The distance hadn't appeared out of thin air—offers and invitations to the local yakiniku restaurant had been extended to her through either Suzume or Toboe (and just once from Raidou, in passing), yet she'd pushed aside every chance to hang out and socialize in favor of training. It was a wonder they still gave her a second thought. She'd been neglecting them for far too long.

It would be a nice break from the tension and stress of the exams pressing down on her.

"Sure."

The boy's eyes widened slightly, as he'd been expecting a different answer, but before long, his cool expression returned. "Let's go, then."

* * *

The small group's chattering died off into silence the moment Namie came into view—she was acutely aware of the way all eyes turned to her as soon as she followed Genma there. It was the usual crowd, all accounted for: Toboe, Suzume, Ebisu, Raidou, Aoba, Toriichi, Genma, and herself. Just like old times. Just a little older.

But the silence didn't last.

"Hey, it's about time you joined us, Strawhead!" Toboe's slack-jawed expression turned into a grin as Suzume nudged him further along the booth seat to make room for the new arrivals, and—squashing eight people into a restaurant booth meant for at most six was a feat only the upbeat kids could accomplish. Elbows dug into sides, legs pressed against legs, and she was pretty sure the fair-haired Toriichi was crammed against the wall—Namie was thankful she was on the outside end of the seat, even though the crowd threatened to send her toppling right off the edge at any moment.

"So, what's the deal?" Aoba began from across the grill-topped table, pushing up his sunglasses. "These three were just talking about how you stopped going to joint practice with them." He pointed out Suzume's team with a vague gesture as he crossed his arms on the table's edge.

"It was a bit worrisome, Namie-chan. Not a word or anything. How are you doing?" The curly-haired girl asked, giving the girl beside her a sidelong glance, not ashamed at all that she'd been caught talking about her while she wasn't around. Or just hiding it well.

"Sensei told us not to ask, but—" Toboe paused mid-sentence with a grimace as Suzume's knee made a move that was undoubtedly meant to quiet him. He scowled half-heartedly. "_Come on, _is it that big a deal? Strawhead would tell us—right, Strawhead?"

"But, of course, she's under no obligation to."

The others looked on curiously as Suzume and Toboe spoke, before watching Namie for her response.

"'Namie this' and 'Namie that,' isn't her business_ her_ business? Besides, we came here to eat." Ebisu's objection was spoken at just the right time, just as the waiter delivered their barbecue ingredients and spared the girl from answering as everyone pounced on the food.

The topic at hand seemed to go on forgotten in favor of lighter, friendly conversation and fights over the best-looking bits of meat and vegetables that sizzled on the grill.

"So, the next chūnin exam is happening now," Raidou brought up off-handedly. "Finals are coming up; it's always cool to see the one-on-ones. Some turn out pretty amazing."

"Ah, right, like Habanero-sama's match! She was smokin'—" Ebisu broke in suddenly, grinning, before catching Namie's flat, dubious stare and clearing his throat. "It was—she's really talented. Scary. That is, powerful." His voice tapered off into a mumble as he grabbed some food with his chopsticks and shoved it into his mouth.

"That one was pretty good. Probably legendary. I'm pretty sure the arena walls she broke took months to repair," Aoba said with a hint of a grin.

Namie allowed a small smirk onto her lips at the thought of Kushina's chūnin exam. She'd missed the girl's fight (hadn't even been there to witness her brother's), but she could only imagine it was befitting of her reputation as Konoha's Red-hot Habanero—especially since they still spoke about it.

"We'll all end up takin' the exams together and make our own legends," Toboe threw in idly, eyes narrowed in focus as he nudged a cut of pork along the grill top, waiting until the moment it was cooked to perfection before snatching it up.

Namie shrugged, waiting for Toboe to move his chopsticks away from the grill so she could have her turn. "That might be true for you, Inuzuka."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He turned his squinted eyes towards her, moving his hand away from the grill, and the moment he did, her own chopsticks shot out to seize the pork piece he'd been coveting.

She chewed the food with a grin before sending a smug look his way, eyes half-lidded and lips set in a smirk, reaching for a fiery reaction. "What, you didn't know? I'm in this exam. I'm going to the semi-finals."

The russet-haired boy's eyes widened in shock and his lips opened, as if he were about to speak, but he gnashed his teeth together and scowled, looking as if he'd swallowed something bitter and burnt.

Suzume stirred, prodding the blonde aside as she leaned just a bit too far into her very limited personal space. "Congratulations, Namie-chan." She was the only one to speak—the others all shared a glance and seemed to be grappling for words as an uncomfortable cloud of silence settled over them.

"Ah, thanks…" The Inuzuka's underwhelming response didn't align with her expectations. It was almost as if she'd said something she shouldn't have, really, and she subconsciously drew back and pushed the vegetable remnants on her plate around with the end of her chopsticks, falling silent. Maybe that was something that would have gone better unspoken.

Suzume's hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her silence.

"Gotta go to the toilet," Toboe grumbled out. "Move it, Strawhead."

"Right, sure." Namie moved to her feet and Suzume soon followed, then Toboe pushed past them without a word.

Namie watched the boy as he stomped down the aisle between tables, hands clenched and shoulders squared. She didn't speak until he disappeared around the corner. "What's his deal?" She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, irked by his surly behavior. "Did I say something?"

Suzume watched the direction Toboe went and sighed quietly. "It wasn't you."

"You know how that guy is." Genma crossed his arms behind his head as he spoke. "He has this big idea that he'll finally be able to fight you for real in the chūnin exams, but, well, he can't exactly do that if you're taking _this_ one."

"That's the dumbest—I might not even pass. Then, I could take another with you guys, and he can—"

Suzume shook her head slightly as she sat back down. "Saying that is a little irresponsible. You _are_ going to the semi-finals."

Namie's thoughts flitted to the two Uchiha and Nara Miho and the looming obstacles they represented. Her denial wasn't for show. "N-no way, Suzu-chan, that's…"

"True?" Toriichi added from his corner.

"Well…"

Raidou sighed. "If any of us would become a chūnin first it's you, Namie. You've got the experience."

"But—"

"False modesty doesn't suit you," Aoba hummed, though his words weren't entirely admonishing. "But you better do damn well when we come see your match."

"I don't intend to do anything less." She sent another glance where Toboe had walked off before sitting down next to Suzume with a frown.

Minutes passed and he didn't come back.

Namie hadn't taken another bite since then, too preoccupied with his behavior, as well as the sudden opportunity she'd run into.

Toboe could still help her with genjutsu. If he stopped being so pigheaded about everything.

She pushed herself up from the table with the half-assed excuse of going after Toboe since he ditched them without paying his share of the bill.

* * *

Toboe loitered just outside of the restaurant, hands shoved deep in his pockets and expression set in a moody scowl as he paced irritably, as if weighing the options of going back to their table or just leaving altogether.

"Hey," Namie called out tonelessly, "thought you fell in the toilet or something. What's your deal, Inuzuka?" Despite knowing the answer, she wanted to hear it directly from him before approaching with her request.

"_Nothing._ Buzz off." He ripped one of his hands from his pockets and swished it at her to shoo her off like a stray alley cat, narrowing his eyes but not quite meeting her gaze. Then, finally coming to a decision, he turned and stalked away from her.

She scoffed as she caught up with his retreat and kept pace with him.

"Are you really that upset…?"

He stopped—so suddenly she nearly walked right past him as he dug his feet into the ground and squared his shoulders, pouting.

"Whaddya _want_, Strawhead?"

"To know why you're so pissy, obviously." She crossed her arms and her eyebrows scrunched together as she examined his expression. "Is it really because I'm taking the chūnin exam?" Her tone softened—even though she took nothing but enjoyment from pushing his buttons and arguing with him, she knew her bounds.

The russet-haired boy let out something akin to a growl and kicked at the dirt in frustration. "Yeah! It is, okay? I just—I just…" he paused, scrambling for the proper words to convey his annoyance. And, just like that, his mood deflated—his shoulders slumped and he heaved a sigh. "I feel like you're always leaving me behind, Strawhead. I try so damn _hard_, but you're always pulling ahead, and we never get a proper chance to fight each other, but I thought—I thought we'd finally get to in the exams. But now you're ahead _again_. Always a step ahead."

Namie stood in silence, stunned by his straightforward outburst. It wasn't often—if ever—that he shared his feelings on their rivalry and she couldn't deny that she was a bit touched by it. Once, some time ago, she would've laughed and scorned the scruffy kid for his words, but now…she felt guilty. Not for being better than him, but because she hadn't taken his ability seriously, nor his devotion to their rivalry, because she'd only viewed it as a game.

"…So? Keep trying, then. If you give up, I'll just keep on getting farther ahead."

Toboe's teeth clicked together as he shut his mouth and stared, stunned. Then, a familiar scowl pulled at his lips. "Easy for you to say."

The blonde sighed. "Look, you have your strengths and I have mine—even if we never get to fight each other, we at least have that. And—one of your strengths is my biggest weakness, so…"

"The heck are you saying? Stop talkin' like a moron," Toboe groused, crossing his arms.

"I need your help again. With genjutsu. I might have to fight against an Uchiha in the semi-finals."

He stared.

Blinked.

Stared some more.

"_Say something, idiot._"

His dour mood vanished and a self-satisfied smirk rose to his lips as he brushed a hand through his hair in a humorous attempt at confidence since he was so obviously well-qualified to help out the less talented. "Well, why didn't you say so sooner, Strawhead?"

* * *

Lessons with Toboe and his team did help—but it took longer than Namie had hoped to reach the point where she was even remotely confident in her abilities against an Uchiha. Two days remained until Stage Three.

And she wasn't any closer to figuring out a plan for fighting against Nara Miho, not since her original one fell through just from seeing the girl fight against Yuuka's team. She moved fast. _Too_ fast. There was no way Namie could do anything if she was caught up in a shadow's hold before she'd even gotten the chance to attack, and that thought alone caused a certain desperation to seize her.

She didn't want to lose—not here, not now.

She'd gone to Minato for advice—though he hadn't exactly fought the technique and could only suggest she ask the jounin Nara Shikaku for consultation since they were well acquainted. Though he did warn that that might not be the best of plans since one of his clan was to be her opponent. Clan families always prided themselves on having skilled shinobi among their ranks and it wasn't likely she'd receive the help she desired there when her having the upper hand would only work against that.

Her only option was to seek someone who'd faced the technique and knew how it worked in combat. But that list was very limited—really, there was only one name that came to mind.

Uchiha Kyouya.

The former teammate to two of her potential opponents. It was unlikely he would help her, even if she wasn't asking for help against any Uchiha. Not to mention he hadn't exactly _beaten_ it.

But he was her last resort.

* * *

Namie headed towards the Uchiha compound at a brisk pace, sidestepping pedestrians and shoppers on the main street when they wouldn't move out of her way, but refused to slow down because there wasn't time—there just wasn't time. She wasn't even sure just _how_ she'd get into the guarded neighborhood and could only hope that they were lax on monitoring visitors that day. Then, worst of all, finding the chūnin teenager would be painstakingly difficult.

"Namie-senpai! Hey! Do you wanna train with me?"

The call nearly went right over her head as she sped by, but a familiar flash of navy and orange caught her eye and she stopped, turned to spare the boy a few brief, biting words. "Not_ now_, Obito. I'm busy."

The words weren't meant to come off as clipped and cold as they did, and she realized just how harsh they were when the young Uchiha's face tensed as if he'd been slapped and the joy of seeing her drained right from his face.

She didn't have time for this. She averted her eyes and shook her head, continuing on.

Took one step.

Two.

Felt a surge of guilt as soon as she took a third step and quickly turned on her heel to go back to the boy. He looked up meekly when she stopped in front of him, and studied her face with a hesitant frown, clearly hurt by the rejection from someone he considered a friend and senior who'd offered to help him whenever he asked.

"Sorry," Namie muttered out, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just kind of stressed right now with the exam."

"Exam?" Obito asked slowly, still recovering from the girl's previous behavior and walking on eggshells so he wouldn't be snapped at again. But when the realization clicked in his mind, his usual pep returned full force and his drooping shoulders rose as he brought his fists up in front of his chest excitedly. "The chūnin exam? You're taking it, Namie-senpai?"

"I am."

"No way! Can I come see your final match? Huh, huh? Can I?"

Namie couldn't help but grin, feeling the stress melt away just from listening to the upbeat boy. "You don't have to _ask_, you know. It's a public event."

"I—I know," he stammered, glancing away and shifting the goggles on his head. Then, a grin crossed his face. "You're gonna be a chūnin soon, though. That's so cool, Namie-senpai! I can't wait to tell Rin." His eyes sparkled at the prospect of being friends with a ranked shinobi and bragging about it.

One eyebrow quirked up as his eyes wandered to the distance and he went quiet, mulling something over as his thoughts ran wild. "Hey," he started slowly, "do you think you'll be a jounin by the time I graduate and—"

"No!" She held up her hands and waved them frantically, shaking her head. "I mean—don't go getting ideas. I might not even become a chūnin yet, okay?" _That _wasn't her place. Being the boy's senpai was enough. She watched him with a slight smile as he grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. Then—it hit her.

He was her ticket into the Uchiha district. Not to mention Kyouya's direct relative. If he couldn't help her find the boy, no one could.

"…I'll help you train today, Obito. But there's something I have to do first. You're Kyouya's cousin, right?"

Obito gave a nod. "Yeah. Why?"

A bright, sly smile crossed her face. "Show me where he lives."

* * *

Namie put on her fakest, most irritating grin when they arrived at Uchiha Kyouya's home—which happened to be only two doors down from Obito's own—and said boy answered the door with a far from enthusiastic, dreadful expression that revealed just how _pleased_ he was to be seeing his two least favorite people in the district.

"No," was the only word he spared them before slamming the door shut in their faces.

Obito squawked indignantly as he took a step back from the sharp noise, whereas the blonde beside him merely heaved a sigh before lifting her arm and knocking again, loudly, knowing he was still just on the other side.

"Come on," she grumbled, "I know we don't exactly know each other, but you kind of owe me after that stunt you pulled, Kyouya-_san_." She forced the honorific. "And I'm sure Obito would just love to hang out with his dearest cousin right now, too."

The child snapped his head towards the genin to protest, after being promised a training session with the blonde herself, yet thought better of speaking when she shot him a look and gave a slight shake of her head. He gave a shrug and set his hands behind his head before glancing off somewhere else along the road with a bored frown, not particularly interested in their business since it only pushed back training.

"I don't care." Kyouya's muffled voice came through the wood that stood between them. Then, putting his pettiness aside, he opened the door a sliver and peered out at them with no small amount of disdain. "I won't be telling you anything that would give you an advantage against my teammates in the exam."

Namie rolled her eyes. Of course he thought that's what this would be about. She drummed her fingers against her legs before curling them into the hem of her long winter shirt. "It's not about them. It's about Nara Miho." The name would catch his attention, certainly—and it did.

The door opened wide and the tall boy stood before them once again, expression unreadable.

"That girl…of course." When he spoke, his features took on a troubled—and embittered—air. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway and reached up to fidget with his bangs, no longer held away from his eyes by his forehead protector since he wasn't in his shinobi gear. It was probably a habit—something he did when he was deep in thought. A certain broodiness familiar to the clan fell across his features as he mulled over the young genin's request. "Then you know what happened?"

"The gist of it."

"Good. I know a little, too—she wants to fight _you _this time."

Namie nodded a bit stiffly, still unsure if he would even provide any help. Maybe he was only stringing her along, humoring her. He had a bad personality like that, she'd come to notice.

"And I'm guessing you've come here for help."

"That's it, pretty much." She nearly told him he was her last hope, but thought better of it and held her tongue. No need to look desperate, even if she _was_.

"You do realize I _lost_?" Oh, but he already knew. There was an all-knowing lilt to his tone that revealed he was all too aware of her situation simply because she'd shown up at his, a virtual stranger's, doorstep. His smug grin fell when the blonde shot him a fierce frown and he huffed out an annoyed breath. "Look, kid, I don't know what you want me to tell you. There's not much. If you were an Uchiha, maybe, _maybe_, you could try copying the technique and using it against her, cancelling the two out somehow, but—you aren't."

Namie stayed quiet for a few moments, observing the boy, or rather, staring a hole into the spot just above his left shoulder as she tried to formulate a question. "She…she moves fast. But—and I'm only assuming here—your match didn't end in an instant, did it? You two actually _fought._"

"We did—for a while, anyway. It was all over in about a minute. I can't remember much." He gave a one-armed shrug and aimed a mild scowl in Obito's direction, though the boy's back was turned and he didn't see. Namie figured he would have aimed the glare at her if she'd been the only one present.

"How did you keep her from catching you immediately?" she asked.

Kyouya's eyes returned to the short girl and he observed her carefully. "Because I have a Sharingan."

"Funny; she seemed to believe she'd beaten your _Sharingan_ with a hot pepper bomb." Namie crossed her arms and tilted her head at an angle, watching him dubiously as a faint blush rose to his cheeks as he was caught off-guard.

"Then—it was because she moved first and her first move was to disarm me. She didn't use her shadow jutsu at the start," he ceded honestly, fidgeting with his bangs as an unpleasant frown pulled at his lips. "Like I said, I can't remember much."

Namie pursed her lips and considered the information she was given. "No," she started slowly, shaking her head. "No, that's okay. Thanks for the…help."

"No problem." He muttered the words with a small nod before turning and retreating into his home, glad to be done with them—and slamming the door rather unkindly once again without so much as a farewell.

She sent the door a dirty look before turning her back on it and stalking away, only pausing long enough to thump Obito on the back, prompting him to follow.

* * *

Obito's idea of "training" was what Namie imagined she bothered Kushina with when she was years younger. His punches barely stung. His kicks were pathetic—when they even managed to land, and when it was all over and done with, he was on the ground wheezing, barely able to catch his breath. He did need training—and _bad_. It was no wonder he was considered dead last even for an Uchiha. No, rather, he didn't seem like an _Uchiha_ at all. But that was part of why she was so fond of him.

At least he didn't give up.

"Hey, what are you doing over there? Break time's over," she called out to the dark-haired boy, watching with a raised brow as he crouched down on the ground a ways away, eyes trained keenly on something squirming around in the grass in front of him. Despite his shinobi aspirations, he was a kid after all—just a kid. Distracted by any little thing that caught his attention. He _did_ try, certainly, but his lack of focus was probably his biggest weakness.

She approached him and looked over his shoulder curiously as he reached forward and cupped his hands over what was presumably a bug, trapping it, before tilting his head back and grinning up at her, nose still scuffed with dirt from their half-assed sparring match.

Then, he flung his hands upward and released the insect—right into her face.

Namie stumbled back with a grimace and half-concealed squeak as a grasshopper sprung into the air towards her and landed on her forehead, matting down her bangs with its scratchy, thin legs. Her hands shot out to grab onto the scrambling bug and she balled it tightly between her hands, careful not to squash it and leave a big ugly mess as she regained her bearings and scowled at the child. "_What the hell, Obito!?_"

He stuck his tongue out and ran a few paces away, putting a safe distance between them. "I'm not an _idiot,_ Namie-senpai. You only agreed to train with me 'cause I showed you where Kyouya lived. Consider that payback!"

"You cheeky little—I'm gonna make you _eat_ this thing!" She shook her hands menacingly at him, feeling the insect rattle around inside. But—she stopped. Stared at her hands that contained the grasshopper in a cave of darkness with no light, only darkness and confusion, and blinked as a realization slowly began to unfurl from the stumped fog in her mind.

The match against Nara Miho would come down to speed, first and foremost—quickest draw wins the match. But…as Kyouya said, keeping her from playing her shadow card on the first move would buy her time—the time she needed to gain a victory.

To do that, she would have to trap the girl.


	38. Thirty-four

**Chapter Thirty-four: Final Stage, Pass or Fail**

* * *

The stadium buzzed with spectators.

It wasn't a particularly large crowd, and the seats weren't full up by any means thanks to the dreary weather, but it was still a crowd.

Villagers preferred to remain indoors on such a chilly day instead of toughing out the cold, bundling up in coats and scarves and bearing with a few snow flurries. Yet the Hokage, sans his council, was present to oversee the remainder of the exam and judge the new potential for himself. She supposed he wouldn't be there at all if it wasn't his duty.

The spectator aspect of the test was a daunting one—like it was all for sport. The chattering coming from up in the stands above them began grating at Namie's nerves the moment she set foot in the corridors of the arena, and she couldn't quite bring herself to take even a single curious glance out at the people scattered around out there. She was certain she would see a few familiar faces—friends, family (she was fairly certain she'd heard Kushina's boisterous voice already), and…

She wouldn't be surprised if Hiroto was present for the event. Yet, at the same time, she didn't want to consider the disappointment she would feel if he _wasn't._

She didn't want to worry about that—didn't have the time. Not when the matches were due to start soon.

Namie pulled at the bandages covering her forearms, checking that they were tied properly and wouldn't come loose or snag on anything, checked her sandals to make sure they were secure around her feet, pulled the knot of her hitai-ate tightly—almost to a painful degree that she was certain pinched a few fine hairs out of her ponytail—checked and double-checked her weapon holsters and the bag fastened at the back of her blue shirt. She'd forgone her winter wear on this day of battle and noticed the great majority of the other competitors pacing nearby had done the same. The adrenaline would do well to keep them warm.

She flexed her fingers and stretched her arms, her legs, if only to ease the nerves squirming up a riot in her stomach and the taught, dryness in her throat. She was tense; wound as tightly as a spring and ready to fight to release the pent-up stress.

It seemed like forever before the examiners—and the Hokage—decided to grace them all with their presence. The elder Sarutobi had come for moral support—to let them know he was proud that they'd come this far and that he looked forward to what fine chūnin they would make in the future, blah-de-fucking-blah. She couldn't focus on his speech long enough to even care, and found she couldn't quite look the man in the eyes, knowing whose father he was and how things had come to be. Not to mention their last meeting hadn't exactly been pleasant, though he'd never been particularly unkind to her. Her opinion towards the man was bland and she had no intention of changing that.

But even if her feelings on the matter had been different, she wasn't sure she could even manage to hear him through the cotton-like anxiety plugging her ears and muting every sound but the drumming of her heart.

A hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder—gentle, but firm—and plucked her away from the borders of panic. A grateful smile crossed her lips as she glanced back, expecting to see Kohaku's reassuring face, expecting a few warm, encouraging words of challenge, yet the warmth of relief froze over and turned into a hard, jagged lump of ice in her chest when her gaze met Nara Miho's sly, dark eyes.

"Exciting, isn't it? I'm looking forward to our fight." She spoke as if she knew it would happen—that they would face each other despite the odds. The confident glint in her eyes spoke volumes.

Namie stepped away from the girl, forcing her to drop her hand away, and narrowed her eyes. "I'll look forward to it if it happens."

The brunette opened her mouth to speak, smirking, yet Koemi's booming voice spoke over whatever she'd attempted to say.

"Well, now that that's all taken care of, it's time to assign ya to yer matches." She held a clipboard in her hands, a familiar clipboard, and scanned over the names with a pleased smile before reading them out. "First up: Namikaze Namie versus Uchiha Hibiki."

The boy's hand shot up straight into the air. "I forfeit."

Namie barely had time to process a reaction between the announcement and Hibiki's quick response—grim expectation was quickly replaced by shock and she was left balking, lips parting and closing as she struggled to find the proper words as the world came to a jarring halt like a needle jerked away from the record spinning beneath it.

"Are ya sure 'bout that?" Koemi asked, eyeing the Uchiha boy levelly and letting the pen hover over the clipboard surface. She watched closely—and she wasn't the only one; all eyes were trained on him—as the boy's usually slack, tired amber eyes steeled with certainty.

He nodded. "I'm sure."

Her pen hit the paper, striking out the name. "Alright, then. Namikaze Namie advances to the finals by default." She snapped her fingers and an examiner aid appeared at her side, whom she briefly exchanged a few brief words with before he disappeared in a wisp of smoke and leaves, and the muffled noise of the arena announcer filtered in through the thick concrete walls. "Then, we'll start this off with…"

The blonde's attention drifted away from the brunette proctor as she assigned the second match to two more genin she wasn't in the least bit concerned with, no—her eyes were glued to Hibiki, watching keenly as he turned his back and headed for the exit to let himself out. Without a goodbye, without an _explanation._

She wasn't upset that she'd honed her genjutsu resisting skills just for a battle she wouldn't even participate in. She wasn't even upset that her placement in the finals was all but given to her wrapped up in a pretty little box.

She was annoyed by the distance. The way he just gave up his chance to make his way to the final bracket and show off his skills for the village. Well—showing off publicly wasn't an Uchiha thing to do, she knew, but it was still _odd_. Those two Uchiha had been dead set on becoming chūnin, to rise up to the same rank as their teammate—even going so far as to attempt getting revenge for said boy against Nara Miho.

It couldn't be that he was _giving up._ It was just too strange.

The blonde separated herself from the group of genin competitors and followed the mousy-haired teenager into the back corridor, bent on getting answers from him even if she had to beat them out.

She flung the double doors open with a scowl and opened her mouth to speak, ready to fling out an insult, whatever it took to get Hibiki to talk, and pointed her index finger at him before drawing back, anger deflated, when she spotted Kohaku beside him. The girl offered her a rueful smile before shaking her head.

"We decided this a while back," the older girl began calmly, smoothing the end of her braid. "That if we got matched up against you, Namie-san, we would forfeit."

"But—_why?_"

"Because…" she began, but hesitated.

"We entered the exam with the wrong mindset," Hibiki cut in with his cool, quiet voice that seemed almost unemotional now. "And we likely won't be promoted this time around, either. Because of what we put you through, and because…we couldn't face Kyouya if we didn't give it our all right from the start."

"But—you, too, Kohaku-san?" Namie asked, glancing desperately between them at a loss.

The dark-haired girl nodded. "I'll go through with my match, but…it's already too late for hope at this point."

"Do you really think Kyouya would accept that?"

"Like Hibiki said, there's always next time."

"You got so far, though…"

Kohaku placed a warm, gentle hand on the shorter girl's shoulder. "I don't expect you to understand, Namie-san. Just please accept it; don't worry about us. Think about the finals."

_Think about beating Miho_. The words went unsaid, but the intent was clear.

Namie's gaze flickered between Kohaku's cool eyes and Hibiki's resigned stare that didn't quite meet her own. No; it wasn't something she could understand. Because their goals were different—because they cared about different things. Because in the end, they never did quite come to understand _each other_ and it was just something she would have to live with.

Just as the last came to an end, so, too, did this iteration of Team One and they would go their separate ways once again.

* * *

This was the final match. Six genin remained—though four of them didn't matter to Namie, no. Only her opponent, standing before her across the sandy, snow-strewn arena, held her attention. Not the flash of red she could see from the corner of her eye waving around in the stands above. Not the two children jumping up and down cheering. Not the seven friends watching with bated breath.

She only had eyes for Nara Miho. The way her smug smirk sat stiff on her face, without feeling. The way her loose, salmon-colored shirt rippled in the cold breeze. The way her arms tensed and fingers twitched beneath the hems of her sleeves, just slightly, itching to make the first move, as she breathed in and out evenly and returned the stare just as intensely.

She would defeat her, here and now._ Had_ to.

Masato stood between them, eyes darting from the blonde to the brunette as he explained the situation. "Alright. Namikaze Namie, Nara Miho. There is only one rule for this fight and it is simply to refrain from killing each other. The first one unable to continue, whether from being rendered unconscious or locked in a checkmate, will lose. Your time limit is ten minutes." He held an arm up, readying the starting signal. As soon as they nodded, he continued. "_Begin!_" The man brought his arm down and leapt back, out of the line of fire, as the girls dug their feet into the ground and sank into their fighting stances, hands clasping together and weaving familiar seals to make the first move toward victory.

For an instant, it seemed as if neither girl moved at all, suspended, frozen, staring each other down and hoping to overcome the other by willpower alone, and then the still atmosphere shattered.

A curved wall of earth surged up from the ground in a cloud of dust, climbing up, up, ever upward, until it stood as tall as the stadium walls that surrounded it and cast the two genin in shadow; cast the majority of the arena floor in muted darkness. The muffled sound of spectators complaining and jeering about the wall blocking their view buzzed around them, yet it went unheard.

She'd realized it just before the day of the match, thanks to Obito—the girl needed a bright and proper light source to control her technique. It was how she'd managed to ambush her and the Uchiha teammates in the forest. They'd been close to the tower, then, and the bright sunlight that illuminated the clearing through the tree gaps had produced the necessary shadows. It was why Miho couldn't control the technique as she retreated further away from said light and returned to the darkness among the dense trees—the shadow stretched out and assimilated into the dimness that surrounded it, becoming useless. It was so easy, now that she knew.

A displeased, bitter scowl twisted Nara Miho's face as she aimed a sharp glare at the earthen wall suspended over them like a clawed hand ready to drop before turning her eyes to the blonde. Then, it slowly morphed into a terrible grin as she dipped her hand into the pack at her waist and pulled forth a handful of round pellets that resembled the hot pepper bombs she'd assaulted Team One with in the forest—but, no, those were useless now.

Miho was severely aware of her own weakness and she had countermeasures.

Namie flinched reflexively as the girl threw the items at the ground and they burst apart in a flash of blinding white light reflecting off the snow, bright as the sun, overpowering the widespread darkness and leaving her vulnerable to attack. She leapt back as a thin, finely-controlled line of shadow slithered across the ground through the path of brightness, swerved around her and sought to hook onto her own from behind like a parasite, and she quickly performed the same series of hand seals to summon up a small slab of earth that crashed over the flash bomb, dousing the light and casting them in darkness once again, dissolving Miho's shadow tendril into nothing not a second before it connected to her silhouette.

The brunette anticipated this—rather, the act had only been a diversion. A string of explosions erupted and the base of the large dirt wall was set awash in flame and dust and its foundation crumbled and broke apart. Spider web-fine cracks threaded throughout its surface as it swayed, no longer balanced, and folded inward on itself, raining down on them in heaps of sharp, jagged debris.

The blonde charged forward, bandaged hands wrapped with wire and armed with weapons as her eyes locked onto the Nara kunoichi, acutely aware of the receding darkness and light filtering in through her sabotaged barrier. She launched a handful of shuriken, sending them expertly through the spaces between the falling rock, piercing the chunks of the wall's bottom that remained along the ground like a miniature mountain range. She gave a sharp tug, twisting the wires, dead set on binding the girl before she had a chance to retaliate with her shadows.

Yet, as soon as she broke through the final hail of rock to face the brunette, she was nowhere in sight. The steel strings fell slack, and at the same time, three blades whistled through the air and impaled the ground at her feet—cutting into the outer sole of her sandal, nearly through the flesh of her foot itself if she hadn't moved back in time—and she wrenched her eyes up towards the sky to see the girl descending fast upon her with another kunai in hand, scarcely left with time to draw a blade of her own.

The weapons sparked and gleamed as metal clashed, and Namie lost her grip on the weapon as Miho pushed with great force, catching her forearm with the tip of the kunai and piercing deep into the skin. Namie drew back, leaping away to distance herself; withdrew another kunai before charging in again. Miho's leg arced up in a powerful kick—Namie blocked it with her burning, injured arm and then ducked as the girl's kunai sliced the air over her head. She jabbed her knuckles into the kunoichi's unguarded torso before bringing her elbow down onto her thigh and watching as she staggered, and a fist made contact with the side of her face as she dropped to one knee.

Namie reached up to tentatively assess the damage on her cheek, feeling a tooth rattle, feeling a stark dizziness creeping up on her from the blow, before looking up to meet those black hole eyes that creased in glee as two hands came together and prepared a seal—then were yanked apart as Namie gave a strong, swift pull and tightened the wires she'd slipped around the girl's wrist as it struck her head. The girl gnashed her teeth together and gave a low growl and jerked at the binding strings before her arm was seized in a vice-like grip and twisted as the blonde flung her into the air over her shoulder. Her back hit the ground hard, and before she could move, the cold edge of a kunai teased the skin of her throat, threatening to sever an artery if she so much as breathed too deeply.

The brunette vanished in a puff of smoke and snow, and a slightly-mad chuckle sounded behind Namie as her kunai cut through only air and she whirled around, bringing the weapon around and ready to launch it as she came face-to-face with Miho's twisted expression of joyful victory, because her hand seals were already complete and her shadow stretched out towards the blonde's to capture it, bind it, and the blade barely escaped her grip as her fingers froze and she stood petrified, mid-throw, before her arms snapped back—her _neck _snapped back in a terrible whiplash—just a bit too late, she knew, as the kunai impaled the brunette's right hand and sliced viciously into the tissue and bone of her index finger, severing the digit completely and sticking into the flesh between her remaining ones.

Miho hissed, trying to maintain her hold on the shadow jutsu as her face contorted in pain, yet she was forced to drop it and cradle her hand close to her chest as it bled—and she yanked the kunai out, tossing it aside to let it hit the snow with a muted clatter.

Namie pushed herself up and onto her feet, ignoring the dull throb at the base of her throat, ignoring the pain squeezing in around her, before barreling towards the girl at full tilt, lifting her arm, finding her fingers too numb to form a fist, and slamming her elbow against the girl's face hard enough to knock her down, sending her toppling to the ground like a domino—she fell down hard for the second time, and didn't rise.

Silence surrounded Namie. She forced herself to breathe and her chest heaved as she watched the Nara girl, attention hyper-focused, waiting for her to jump up, to vanish as a clone, to do _something_, because it couldn't be over already—she was too afraid to hope for that—yet she simply lay there with a bloodied face, unmoving, save for the faint rise and fall of her chest.

"_Winner—the winner is Namikaze Namie!"_ Masato's call just barely permeated the adrenaline-fueled bubble of silence buzzing around her yet as soon as it registered that the match was indeed at its close, it burst apart and the crowd's cheers rushed in like a crashing wave.

She won.

_She won._

But she couldn't bask in the victory.

There was a pounding in her skull, all around her, _everywhere,_ and an aching sting seeping through her muscles and bones. The earthen wall spectacle was catching up to her and she knew her chakra meter was running on fumes—she'd overexerted herself with that show of taijutsu, even though it was quick it was fast and she pushed herself… and the wound on her arm sported a worrying hue of ugly green and purple.

Her vision blurred. Her surroundings became as fuzzy as the snow flurries drifting down from above and one of her knees touched the chilled ground before the rest of her body fell to meet it.

She'd never considered the possibility that Nara Miho drenched her blade in poison.

* * *

The exams were long over.

How much time had passed—minutes, hours, days, Namie wasn't sure. She simply lay in the hospital cot, blinking away the stupor and ignoring the flare of irritation that coiled up within her at the dreaded, familiar sight of the ugly, washed-out mint-green curtains and water-stained ceiling tiles overhead.

Taji was probably beside herself with worry—and wasn't she the one who swore to herself she _wouldn't_ end up in a state like this for her mother's sake?

Poison wasn't a pretty thing. She was sore—not only from the fight, but from the noxious toxins that invaded her bloodstream and corroded away her health. It was purged now, she was sure, but the dirty feeling stubbornly clung on.

That was all something she could put behind her, now. Her fight with Nara Miho was over. Even if Hibiki and Kohaku had chosen to resign and put aside their grudge against the girl, she never did. She'd wanted to beat her—and she did.

The chūnin exams were over. She'd made it to the very end, yet—she couldn't quite feel relieved. She still didn't know if she'd received a promotion out of it all and now, she was left waiting, left to recover and hang in a sort of limbo until someone summoned her to the administration building or graced her with a personal visit to disclose her current status.

After all of that, she didn't think she could stand being denied the rank.

She shifted—slowly—and pushed her body up, leaning on her elbows—not quite able to turn her head, as there was some kind of stifling brace wrapped around it, though it didn't particularly ache—only pinched a bit, like she'd kept her head turned in one position for far too long and moved it far too soon. Yet, when she moved, when she reached out to open the curtains closed in around her and yank them along their rods, she stopped short. Not because of any sudden pains or discomfort, but because of the sight that met her eyes.

The girl stood just on the other side of that partition with a smug yet unreadable atmosphere swirling about her like a vortex—with those cold, unfeeling black eyes zeroed in on her and watching her like a hawk in her weakest moments. If she'd wanted to, she could injure her—even go so far as to _kill_ her, and she wouldn't be able to stop her because of her current state. No, rather, she wondered just how long the girl had been standing there and why she _didn't_.

"Nara Miho."

As soon as the words broke the silence, a sly smile split across the brunette's lips. "You're lucky, well, in a manner of speaking. I didn't use such a potent toxin against you—not as much as I used against that Uchiha Kyouya, anyway. You're already looking quite well, Namie-chan." A steady stream of moonlight fell upon her as she shifted the curtain further aside and revealed a satisfyingly purple black eye held together near her brow with butterfly bandages and a bruised jawline. The hand that lingered upon the curtain was wrapped in bandages; no doubt stitches still held the skin of her finger together, or maybe it was no longer there at all. It was difficult to tell.

"What do you want?" Her fingers tensed against the mattress and she wondered where her weapons were—if they were still in the room, or if they were even allowed in a hospital. She was still caught in a weak, woozy haze—wasn't sure if her chakra levels had replenished enough to defend with ninjutsu, but with the adrenaline raring up within, with the static buzzing at her fingertips, she was sure she could defend herself if push came to shove.

"Just to chat a little—oh, and congrats on winning. You're the second one who's managed that. But the first was kind of a fluke, because, see—"

"Get to the point."

The girl's smile fell. "I knew you weren't one to chat much, Namie-chan, but can't you at least learn to _listen_ when someone's talking?" She gave a short sigh but did as the girl wished. "I'm bored. Bored of this place, this system…" Her voice lowered. "There's no place for me here, so I'm leaving. I came to ask if you wanted to come because… sometimes you seem like you don't belong."

"_The hell makes you think that?_" Namie hissed without missing a beat, dearly wishing she could punch the strange girl again for good measure—to maybe knock something back into place that she knocked loose during the finals because the girl was all but admitting she was dead-set on deserting the village and going into exile as a missing nin. She didn't want to hear that—didn't want the burden. "I'm not going anywhere. And you, you can't just—leave," she finished weakly, feeling her neck begin to ache as she leaned forward and put weight against the brace. The rising stress wasn't helping, but that was the least of her worries—just why the hell did she care so much about whether or not this girl abandoned Konoha? There was no reason.

"I can. It's easy."

"What about—what about your team? Your teacher? Your_ family_?"

"They're sweet, but they've never done much for me." Her smile returned, though it was a bit forced. "So—your answer is no?" She didn't sound so much disappointed as she did expectant as the blonde nodded her head. "Shame. Would have been nice to have company." There was a certain bitterness in her movements as she shrugged.

"You won't need it if you just _stay._" Namie managed to pull herself to the edge of the bed and dropped her legs over it, fully intent on standing against Miho if she was serious about carrying this stupid idea through. "I don't know what your problem is, but running away won't solve it. It never does. It's not worth becoming a criminal over." She didn't let her current state muffle the spite in her voice. "So fix it. Stay here and find a way to fix it."

Miho's expression sobered up into something devoid of the usual sweet-scorn and those black eyes that rivaled the shadows around them burned dark, cruel and calculating. Mocking. "Those are the words of someone who's happy to stay stuck in mediocrity, Namie-chan. What's here isn't always what's best. Maybe I was wrong about you." She uttered the last part so quietly it almost went unheard.

But Namie heard it perfectly, and it cut deep.

"_Mediocrity?_ Are you upset no one ever called you _special?_ _Different?_" Her hands curled into the blankets at her side; nails dug into the threads, catching onto them and tearing in. "Are you mad that you were never singled out and studied like some lab rat? You should be_ happy_ they've left you alone to do whatever you want with that fucked up attitude of yours—if you're not satisfied with what you have now, that's _your_ fault. Don't be such a child." Oh, it would _definitely_ be nice to punch the girl again for good measure.

"I didn't—" For once, Miho was caught off-guard. Uncertain. Whatever image she'd built up of Namie in her mind hadn't been prepared for this and wavered, crumbling.

"You're right. _You didn't_. Do you want to know why I beat you, Nara Miho? Why you didn't beat me?" She hadn't raised her voice from the quiet murmur it had been, yet for the gobsmacked look on the brunette's face, she could have been shouting. "Because I don't run away. Not anymore. I handle whatever comes my way even if it hurts—even if I _want_ to give up and sometimes I _do_ want to leave, because I can't—" She caught her tongue. "It doesn't matter if I ever feel like I don't belong. Because I'll stay. I'll stay here as long as I have to. I'll do whatever I have to. I don't know if you can understand that, but if you leave, you never will."

Black eyes met burning blue, gleaming so bright they almost flinched at the sight.

"And if you do leave," the blonde continued, teeth gnashing together between words, "I'll make you sorry for hurting Kohaku, Hibiki and Kyouya. And whoever else you've thoughtlessly stomped on during your bratty tirade. I'll find you and I'll bring you back here and make you apologize."

"You," Miho breathed, a disbelieving smile tugging at her lips as her eyes widened—slightly deranged. "You're just a _kid_. Telling me all this…I could kill you here and no one would even know—"

"But you won't. You know you'll have to face an entire village if you do." She was calling her bluff—even she wasn't certain if the girl was mad enough to go through with murder.

The two girls remained deadlocked in a staring contest, judging each other's purposes.

Miho clicked her tongue. Ran a hand through her short hair, rubbed at her head and sighed. "Jeez, Namie-chan…you really know how to spoil the mood. Ruining my dramatic escape, giving me a lecture… I'll say it again. I was wrong about you. You're more interesting than I gave you credit for. And…since you seem to _care_ so much, I suppose I'll stick around for a while longer. To see what else _you'll _do after preaching all those heavy words like some annoying adult."

Namie blinked. Opened her mouth to speak, but the brunette already turned her back and disappeared behind one of the curtains, blending into the shadows seamlessly. The last she heard of her was a brief parting comment. "Just pretend I was never here."

All that remained was a ringing silence and stillness in the room, everything left untouched and as it was, and for the sheer bizarre nature of the situation, Namie was inclined to think the visit was a product of her medicated, post-poisoned, mind because, yet again, her vision swam and faded out as sleep once again claimed her.

* * *

When Namie stirred again, a second, much more welcomed, sight greeted her.

A familiar redhead, blond and brunette were slumped over, snoozing, in the three visitor chairs and stools present in the room.

Kushina slouched half-sprawled out across the other, unused cot in the small space and her hair looked a mess, as if she'd been worrying and scratching at it, though she looked peaceful, now, with her mouth half-open as she breathed in and out, on the verge of snoring.

Minato sat beside the girl, arms crossed, head lolled back and—drooling slightly, she realized with no small amount of amusement. It was probably the most undignified position she'd ever seen her brother in since he was much younger, even while napping, and she couldn't suppress the crooked grin that pulled at her lips.

Taji sat quietly in the chair closest to her bed, chin dropped against her chest—and Namie feared she would topple over if she continued sleeping that way. Even though she was sleeping, now, her eyes were shadowed, and it very well may have been that this was the first time she'd managed to catch a few moments of rest—not by choice, but because she couldn't keep her eyes open another second.

Maybe it had been that way for all of them, really. She couldn't quite bring herself to wake them. Just having them there was enough.

And—the sun was just shy of the horizon, a telltale glow beginning to peek in through the slots in the blinds. Soon, morning would arrive in full shine and the gentle rays would likely awaken them in her place. So, she would wait.

Taji was the first to awaken. "_Namie!_" Though, with that being her first reaction to seeing the little blonde sitting up against the pillows of her medical cot, flipping idly through a magazine, _awake,_ the other two in the room snapped immediately from their dreams and returned to the waking world as well.

Kushina was the first to approach—bounced towards her and looked for all the world that she wanted to fling her arms around the child, but was fully aware of her condition and settled (after facing a brief internal struggle) for simply reaching for her hand and gracing her with a megawatt grin.

Minato hesitated a moment, as if afraid his redhead girlfriend would engage in an overbearing show of affection as well, before seeing she'd contained herself—though he remained at a distance, smiling in relief. Not because he didn't want to approach, but because Taji didn't waste time in squeezing her way past the redhead and sending her back a few, sheepish steps to give Namie some space with gentle but urgent words.

A palm set aglow with cool chakra met her forehead; passed over her injuries. Taji pulled her hand away quickly to glance at the machines monitoring the girl's status—and after scrutinizing them for a few moments, she turned away from them with a pleased smile that was aimed at said girl.

"You're doing well, Namie. I'm glad you're awake. So, _so_ glad." A fine mist appeared in her eyes, even though she ducked her head down and her medic hat dropped down and shadowed her face—she gave herself away by reaching up to wipe the tears.

"What happened? How long has it been?" Namie spoke up with some difficulty—finding her tongue turned to cotton after a period of disuse. A cup of water was pushed into her hand and she paused to swallow down the liquid and soothe the dryness. She opened her mouth again, feeling all of the questions rushing up at once like a geyser, because she wanted to know if she _passed_, if she was a chūnin, now, and what day it was, and if she could start undertaking higher-ranked missions and—before she could get the words out, a hand dropped down lightly onto her head and mussed her hair. She looked up to meet eyes that were like her own.

"Don't worry about that yet, Namie. You just woke up. Let's take things one at a time—"

Kushina popped up between the brunette and blond with a gleeful grin. "You did great, Namie-chan! You were perfect in the exam! I know it's what you're wondering—you totally passed, 'ttebane! Now we're both chūnin! But," the energetic glow dulled as she met the strict expression from Taji and the nervous one from Minato and laughed a little uneasily. "Let's just take things one at a time. Right."

"I _passed?_" Namie repeated, only having ears for that information, sitting up a little straighter, eyes wide. "Then I'm—I'm a chūnin now?"

Taji breathed out a quiet sigh as she realized it was impossible for the girl to contain her excitement after hearing that. "Yes. Once you're able to, you will report to the Hokage to officially receive your promotion. But—_don't even think of going now!_" The woman's arms shot out to steady the girl as she made to leap out of the bed even with the brace around her neck and the bandages around her arm, and she pushed her back down firmly with a mild frown she ignored completely. That grin on the girl's face was far too healthy—she didn't seem as if she'd been in a coma for a week at all.

But—Namie could hardly care. _She passed._ She did. _She did it!_ The rank was hers, now, and it was another step forward. Now, she felt as if she were a butterfly pushing free from her chrysalis, ready to leave her past self behind and spread her wings; ready to fly on to what awaited her.

She was ready to meet it.


	39. Thirty-five

**Part III**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-five: A Beginning, An End**

* * *

The Land of Fire was on the edge of chaos.

Most didn't know it, though—only those from Konoha. Only those who were shinobi. Only those who belonged to a particular inner circle of ranked shinobi who'd witnessed this type of event before.

It was too soon to make it public—everyone aware of it held high hopes the impending situation could be contained before it tipped over that edge and dragged them all down—and that "all" quite literally meant _everyone_ within their land's borders.

Namikaze Minato wanted to be just as knee-deep in that comfort of denial, but thanks to the unwelcome and gut-wrenching sight that etched permanently onto his eyes, he was all too aware that they were already in that pit of chaos and there was no escaping it now.

"It's gone. Everything that was here was just burnt. Or stolen. Impossible to tell now," the white-haired man to his left announced in grim tones as he straightened from his crouch and dusted off his ash-covered hands that sifted through what remained of the razed building around them. Bones. Bits of burnt flesh. Tarnished metal bearing a leaf symbol.

Minato averted his gaze and glanced out at the rest of the village, which was in a similar state—all black, charred charcoal outlines of what was once a modest border village teeming with life and joy was now bleached out and awash with the mute sense of terror and despair and confusion as to why this had to happen.

It hadn't been defenseless—border villages had their share of guards—mostly in the form of what little the Daimyo's forces could provide that did well enough against minor threats like common bandits and thieves but the great majority crumpled in the face of trained enemy shinobi bent on ravaging an entire settlement. It would have been an issue for the national government to handle and normally Konoha wouldn't have anything to do with it—but the fact that shinobi _were_ involved and shinobi _were_ killed in the attack naturally meant they stepped in to take over the investigation.

Three shinobi—including one ANBU—were among those deaths, caught in the midst of a mission at the halfway point between Konoha and a nearby nation that would quite possibly become an ally upon completion of said mission if it hadn't been so brutally interrupted. Whoever that interrupter was absolutely didn't want that alliance to happen.

Whoever the interrupter was most certainly didn't leave any witnesses.

"We'll search for survivors," one of the chuunin in the search team offered tremulously, standing strong and tall despite the shock in his voice. Too young to have been exposed to this kind of brutality.

"Please do—both of you," he addressed the other chuunin beside the young man, doing a better job of holding himself together, older, more experienced, but shaken nonetheless. It was always in the eyes. He didn't expect to find any survivors—he was all too aware Minato was only saying this as lip service because their unit only had one field medic and not more—with a small sliver of hope that there would be any left alive. "We'll continue to search the area."

Jiraiya watched his former student carefully, noting the gentle-yet-firm way he handled his colleagues as a leader, and if the situation hadn't been so dire he'd have a moment to smile at it, before he crossed his arms and turned slowly as he studied the site. "It's gone cold. There's no telling when this happened. Maybe a week ago. Maybe as soon as they arrived. What I'm worried about is whether this was a random attack or if the enemy was aiming for the message they carried." It might have taken another week for anyone to catch wind of this unit being felled if he hadn't been the closest Konoha shinobi hailed down by the Daimyo's men. They tried, really, but ultimately they were useless, assembled in name only.

"And whether they took it or burnt it along with everything else." Minato raked a hand through his spiky hair and gazed down at the ashes. Who knew if the scroll's were among them.

"First order of business is to find out who _they_ are, smart as they were to cover up their tracks. I'll ask around, I'll do my thing. Best thing to do now is report back to the Hokage and…stay on the alert."

The blond gave his sannin teacher a grim nod as he body-flickered away, then knelt to scoop up the burnt forehead protector in the rubble. His fingers trembled as they curled around the cooled metal—not from fear, not from terror, but from quiet rage. It could have been anybody. Not just a colleague, but _family_. It could have been _Taji_. It could have been _Kushina._ It could have been _Namie._ War had already taken their parents from them—and very well could strike the siblings down when it crashed down upon them.

It was only a matter of time before this "chaos" would be pronounced as "war."

* * *

Creeping rooftops wasn't a normal hobby. Namie knew it wasn't. It was far from it—and probably far from healthy, too. Because once or twice, as loathe as she was to admit it, she'd almost slipped from one of the higher buildings and it would have been a complete and utter embarrassment for a certified chūnin to end up all smashed up on the ground below. It wasn't that she was being careless, or that she was trying to jump too far, getting ahead of herself—it was thanks to the sore and sorry state of her arms that were bogged down with training weights. Nothing near close to Rock Lee's super-human level, but even standard weights were nothing to underestimate. Moving just a measly few feet was a damn workout.

The weather was mild and no one reasonable should be working up a violent sweat, and it took all of her willpower to convince herself that this training was worth it; that it would help her performance overall, particularly while wielding her mallet. A little muscle never hurt anyone, though it only showed itself in the form of toned arms on her lanky form.

Her target stopped.

She skidded to a halt as well, settling beneath the overhang of a water tank set atop an apartment building. It was a decent vantage point that put her out of sight but allowed her to see everything below, even though she wasn't completely sure her mark was oblivious to her presence, being a veteran in his own right.

Hatake Sakumo paused to browse a vegetable stand in the market district, with Kakashi at his side—the only person who was even remotely interested in being anywhere near the man, as everyone else kept their distance out of spite or uncertainty, some sending dirty, hostile glances at the man but none making a move to openly harass him. Yet.

Not even a year had passed since the man was branded a disgrace and the ire towards him was mostly unmasked, though some refrained from making a scene in public. Some outright spat at him, though that was rare. No one, at least, was foolish enough to physically assault him—she wasn't entirely sure the man would fight back (odds were against it) but she sure as hell wouldn't stand idly by if they did.

At any rate, he was still…alive.

She felt a faint presence above her—mostly because there was no effort made to conceal it, and largely because of the shapeless silhouette that superimposed itself onto the concrete in front of her as a telltale sign of arrival. She didn't bother looking up—didn't need to. The feeling was familiar enough in the way that, when you spend enough time around people who didn't conceal their presence, you start to notice how they feel when they're nearby in things like breathing patterns, footsteps and that inexplicable shift in the atmosphere that was unique to each person when they were close by. This had nothing to do with honed ninja senses, but mere human perception.

"Miho." It wasn't quite a greeting, but more a curt acknowledgement that lacked any respect whatsoever.

"I'm a little hurt, Namie-chan. Weren't we supposed to meet for tea this morning?"

"Weren't you supposed to check in with Yamanaka Inori?"

"Weeeell, it was a nice suggestion, but I don't think so."

The girl had decided to remain in Konoha, yet Namie wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut and let her run away given how annoying the situation ended up. Nara Miho had taken quite the liking to shadowing her—literally and figuratively—yet the hostility between them dwindled down to the dregs and gave way to something of a symbiotic relationship. Being Miho's current object of interest kept her from terrorizing other genin (namely, her friends), and in return Namie was able to keep an eye on her and attempt persuading the Nara to go and see someone about her problems (Inori, that is, whose help she wrangled by explaining the situation, carefully excluding the fact that the girl came close to deserting). It never really worked, but if she gained her trust, then maybe one day it would.

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the White Fang," Miho commented from above, feet swinging over the edge of the water tank idly. "You have other things to do. More interesting things. Like sparring with that Uchiha, or hanging out with your brother—I like him, by the way. _Very_ handsome."

"_Then go bother him_," she wanted to say. She really did. But Namie wouldn't wish Miho on anyone; especially her brother. So she kept her mouth shut and grunted vaguely while keeping her attention on her target duo.

Until an invisible force seized her head and turned it sideways and up, almost to a painful degree that definitely wasn't healthy after the first time her neck was injured, so she was staring up at the Nara girl, whose head was much in the same position minus the discomfort; whose hands were pressed together in a familiar seal. All at once, the jutsu was dropped, but Namie remained staring up at Miho, disgruntled. "What? You're supposed to look at someone while they're talking."

"If you do that _one_ more time, I'll—"

"—Cut off my other fingers. I know, I know," the girl hummed, positively delighted with herself. The glee slowly faded as a certain seriousness took hold and in the way her eyes hardened, searching for something. "You've been doing an awful lot of stalking lately. And I thought_ I _was bad. But between trying to track down your genin teacher and following the White Fang, I have to wonder—just what _are_ you doing?"

She'd learned better than to tell the girl it was none of her business—because she had a way of getting involved and trying to _make_ it her business just to spite it—but telling her the truth was out of the question, because it really was none of her business. It wasn't as if she _wanted_ to be here, and it wasn't that she wanted to keep it a secret.

With a sigh, Namie fished a shopping list out of her weapons pouch and held it up towards the brunette. "Here. Go buy these things and you can come over for dinner tonight."

"Oh! Of course. I do love your family's cooking. Will your dear brother be there?"

"No. He's been busy with missions."

Miho pouted briefly before her usual sly smile returned. The blonde's clipped tone was enough to end that topic. "Ok, ok. I'll see you later, Namie-chan." She gave a cocky salute with the list held firmly between her fingers before pushing off the water tank and heading into the market area—it was shopping she'd planned to do herself on the way back home, and everything was in the opposite direction of where Sakumo and Kakashi were headed. Bribing the girl with things like food was the only sure-fire way to get her out of the way for a while, it seemed. Only, she didn't know Toboe and Suzume were invited as well. _And_ Kushina—the girl was smart enough to behave when Konoha's esteemed Red-hot Habanero was present.

She returned her attention to the street below, scanning the many faces that came and went, before heaving another weary sigh and heading into the crowd, knowing she'd have to get closer to find the ones she was looking for.

* * *

It wasn't something Kakashi could understand.

He wasn't stupid. He'd heard the rumors, the backbiting, everything people had to say about his father, especially since rumors of a rising war began to spread and people naturally pointed the blame at the pariah. Every word was a sharp as a blade and could have—should have—cut as deep and wide as the gaps that formed in the crowd around them. But his father never acknowledged the wounds they left behind. He pretended things were the same, still pretended to hold his head high—though his shoulders sagged and his head drooped just a little more every day under the weight of the negativity he faced with a smile. Was it for his sake? Kakashi didn't know. Didn't know if he _wanted_ to know. Between that burning question and watching his father suffer, he wasn't sure if being left in the dark hurt more than knowing the truth. All he could do was stay at his side, his sole supporter, and hold him up like a crutch so that maybe, maybe, one day it would all heal and it could all be put behind them and everyone in the village and he could rise again.

He found that harder and harder to believe as each day passed.

If only his father _talked_ about it, helped him understand, then maybe—

A familiar shock of blonde hair caught his eye as he glanced idly through the passing crowd and soon, his ex-teammate's troubled, bitter expression emerged from the blur of passing faces. She caught his eye. Didn't mean to—that look on her face meant she was looking for something—but as soon as their eyes connected and she realized she was seen, she froze and hesitated and probably didn't even realize she'd given herself away.

He wasn't stupid.

He knew Namie was following them—and not only because his father mentioned it in passing early on. Her tracking skills left much to be desired, but then again she was never the silent, stalking type.

"Why are you following us?" Straight and to the point. He didn't have the time to humor her, nor was he in the mood.

She didn't bother denying it, or outright lying. She only rolled her eyes and muttered a curse under her breath before approaching the shop front he was leaning against while waiting for his father. "Does it matter?" she asked, crossing her arms over her green chūnin vest in a mirror of his own posture.

Right. The vest. She'd earned the rank some time ago—not quite a year ago—yet he hadn't offered a word of congratulations on it. Hadn't even gone to see her match. It didn't matter, now. It was too late; an afterthought. Besides, she'd opened her mouth to speak, and going by the look on her face, she would just ignore anything else he had to say.

"You know, I—"

Just as the words left Namie's mouth, emphasized with that harsh-and-direct, slightly-awkward concern that arose during times like this, something collided with the shop front beside them, bouncing off the wall and splattering their clothes from the impact. The stem-butt of a tomato toppled to the ground, landing near the blonde's foot.

A second fruit hurtled through the air and made contact with Kakashi's leg, even though he could have easily avoided it, and he ignored it as if nothing happened at all.

When a third launched towards them, poorly-aimed and ready to smack against Namie's arm, she reached out and grabbed it, holding it in her hand tightly while searching for the culprits.

Her eyes scanned the area until—there. Just peeking out of a side alley was a pair of mischievous, thug-looking snot-nosed children who were glaring at them both, still holding fruit projectiles in their hands and ready to let them fly.

"_Hey_, I'm trying to talk here," Namie snapped, eyes blazing as she squeezed the tomato in her hand until it burst into a lumpy mess of red between her fingers, channeling as much of Uzumaki Kushina as she humanly could. "_Buzz off!_"

The children's eyes lit up in fear upon being spotted, and they quickly turned tail and ran.

Namie stared after them, watching until they were out of sight, then sighed while doing her best to shake the tomato off of her hand as she noted that she'd have to get her vest dry-cleaned for the third time that month.

"It was rotten…" she grumbled, though that was fortunate. If those were ripe and proper tomatoes gone to waste, she was sure it would have soured her mood further. "Does that happen often?" She turned a serious gaze towards Kakashi, studying his face for a reaction—but he wouldn't reveal anything, not with that mask concealing half his expression.

His mouth might have moved, ready to respond, but the noise had drawn out the shopkeeper and Hatake Sakumo, who followed close behind.

"Kakashi," Sakumo went immediately to his son, checking him over and wiping stray flecks of tomato from the side of his face the best he could while holding a grocery bag too—even if Kakashi moved away and furrowed his brow from the show of care. He didn't find the need to ask about the incident—the disheartened expression on his face said it all.

This wasn't the first time it happened, but it was certainly the first time she'd been there to witness it.

The shopkeeper clicked his tongue as he examined the mess of tomato against his storefront. "Trouble follows in your wake," he griped, frowning, as he turned to face Sakumo. "What are you going to do about this?"

Sakumo turned away from his son and bowed to the man. "I am deeply sorry for the disturbance. Please accept this for any damages caused." Along with his heartfelt apology, he offered a handful of ryou to the man, far more than enough payment to cover his shopping and whatever dent or stain the thrown tomatoes left on the man's property.

The shopkeeper snatched the money away with an annoyed sniff. "It's already hard enough getting merchants to come through with products thanks to the state of the land. Take your business elsewhere next time, White Fang. You _and_ your son."

Namie glared after the man as he re-entered his shop, not even bothering to spare them a second glance even though they were the victims here. It was sickening. Sakumo was forced to apologize for something that wasn't even his doing, and Kakashi was made to be a target as well. She'd never thought the loathing would extend to being banned from shops, but the bias and hatred ran deep. Irritation boiled up within her at the sheer injustice of it all, but died down just as quickly. Losing her temper wouldn't help anything.

"Namie-chan…was it?" When she looked back, the silver-haired man was standing before her, holding out a white, square handkerchief. "I'm sorry you had to get caught up in that."

She accepted the handkerchief but didn't quite know what to do with it since it was far too thin and small to clean up all the gunk. At the very least it helped soak up the slick tomato guts on her hand, but she didn't really care about that. Again, the man was apologizing, as if his existence had been reduced to excusing every little wrongdoing that even slightly involved his name. What was worse, he did it with a smile. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault, Sakumo-san."

The man's expression faltered—as if he'd forgotten what it was like to be unburdened from blame and accusation. But, slowly, his smile became genuine. Perhaps it was still a charade of a smile, emptier than usual and only a reflection of what it once was, but a smile nonetheless. "All of this must have interrupted your chat with Kakashi."

One of Kakashi's eyes twitched, as if he wanted to protest his father's assumption, but remained silent. He knew what was coming—what his father was planning. He'd often pushed for him to make more friends; to bond more, to create lasting friendships… More now than ever, and especially when it concerned his former teammate—the one he knew had been tailing them the whole afternoon for whatever reason.

"Would you like to join us for dinner today, Namie-chan? I'm sure you two have quite a bit of catching up to do. What do you say, Kakashi?" Sakumo asked the two, careful to take both of their opinions into consideration as a parent. Namie had a feeling it was forced hospitality—if Kakashi realized she'd been tailing them, Sakumo certainly had.

"Whatever," Kakashi agreed easily.

Namie wasn't able to reply as quickly and fumbled for an answer. "I, uh, sure."

That wasn't what she'd intended to say. She was having guests over tonight—had to hurry home and help Taji with dinner before Miho told her something weird, as she was prone to do. But the answer created itself and now that she said it, she couldn't take it back.

* * *

The Hatake home was once a cozy and welcoming place, Namie was sure. But now, like the fine layers of dust that coated what little furniture decorated the bare home, a certain sadness lingered about it. But that wasn't what bothered her—it wasn't that she expected anything else, because things were bad—worse than she'd expected, really.

The silence bothered her.

While Sakumo cooked, he left Namie and Kakashi to converse in the sitting room—only, no actual conversing took place. In fact, it seemed for all the world that the boy was ignoring her, sitting with his chin leaned on his palm and his gaze focused elsewhere, not uttering a single word. The only sounds that could be heard were the clanking of pans and the sizzle of food in the kitchen.

Namie let her eyes rove around the area, and her attention briefly caught on an altar set in the far corner of the room. It was out of her sight from here, but she was almost certain the small display contained a photo of the boy's late mother—Sakumo's late wife.

She drummed her fingers awkwardly against her thighs as she looked away from the depressing, private memento that served as a stark reminder that the boy would soon become an orphan, and glanced at the few framed photos that hung on the wall beside it, behind Kakashi.

Her breath caught when her gaze settled on Team One's official group photo.

_Everyone _was present in it. Hiroto, herself, Kakashi, and…Kasuga. Only the latter was smiling, and nervously, at that, because he'd taken up the responsibility to break up a scuffle between his other two teammates and stood between them to create some sort of peace so they could get the picture taken. Everyone else had a scowl, or an indifferent stare, as in Hiroto's case. Only the man's gaze was directly focused towards the camera, even, no matter how unenthused and bored he was with the situation. She and Kakashi were glaring away in opposite directions and Kasuga's eyes were closed, creased in upward crescents.

That day, there had been some difficulty deciding a lineup pose for the picture considering their heights were so different then—and since Kakashi and Namie couldn't quite behave standing beside each other long enough to get the photo done. Eventually, Hiroto became fed up with their antics and sat down on the grass where he stood, calling for the others to get in the picture or else get left out of it and only end up with a solo shot of their teacher for their scrapbooks, so they all rushed into the frame behind the man with the orange-haired boy squeezed between them.

The last time she'd seen the image was shortly after she'd been given her own developed copy—now it was lost somewhere in her room because she hadn't thought to value it as much as she should have.

It was a wonder the picture remained where it was in the home, displayed openly and sentimentally for all to see, considering all that happened between them, and at that moment she began to understand that the team loss affected the silver-haired boy just as much as it affected her. Even though he was destined for greater things, along with greater tragedy, he'd still belonged to the same team; _his_ team. He'd been by Kasuga's side, too. And he cared. In his own way.

She let her gaze linger there for another second and bit her lip—wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

So she didn't say anything at all.

Dinner was slightly more talkative, but only because Sakumo was there to fill the silence, even if it was only with idle small talk. General topics, like how Namie's training was going, how she liked being a chūnin, what types of weapons she preferred… It wandered into subjects like what Kakashi was learning, how he'd recently been signed on to the dog summoning contract—and even though conversation included him and bounced weakly between them all, he contributed very little, and only spoke monosyllable responses when they were required until, abruptly, he rose from the table.

"May I be excused? It's time to feed the dogs." Without awaiting a reply, he collected his empty dishes and headed into the kitchen.

Sakumo and Namie watched him go without a word and soon he disappeared into the hallway and slid open the back door. His father slowly set his chopsticks down and sighed. Namie finished chewing the stir-fry in her mouth and lowered her chopsticks as well, putting them on their perch and taking an extra second to make sure they were evenly placed, doing all she could to try to ignore the awkward atmosphere that was most likely due to her visit.

"I'm afraid inviting you here may have been a bit selfish of me, Namie-chan," the man began quietly, and Namie whipped her head up to face him, brow furrowed. He met her eyes with an apologetic stare, smiling sadly. "It's been so long since someone treated us kindly—and considering you're a friend of Kakashi's, I thought…I thought this would be a good thing. For him." His gaze wandered towards the sitting room.

It wasn't selfish. It was _heartbreaking._ He was a man who put the well-being of others above his own, for the sake of the village, for the sake of a comrade—for the sake of his own son. Certainly, she'd been used for his own means, no matter how minor, but she couldn't deny that she'd done the same.

Kakashi was distant—she could see that. Once he'd adored his doting father, and even if he pretended otherwise, it was clear on his face, through his actions… Now it was different. There was creeping doubt—a detached uncertainty that no longer held the warmth of a child pretending to dislike their overbearing parent's affection. In its place was a heavy struggle influenced by others' perceptions of the man and his own feelings.

"He can be unsociable—I'm sure you've noticed that. But there are times when he isn't. When you two were on the same team, sometimes he would share stories and complain a little. Most of it was complaining, really, but I could tell by the way he spoke that he enjoyed that time. I hoped the company would be a nice change." Sakumo continued to speak, and each word held a great weight. The fact that his reputation decline extended to his child and the way he was perceived was a great, undue burden. His melancholy smile gradually lowered into a frown as he cast his gaze towards his hands. "I couldn't ask you to stay any longer. I've troubled you enough already."

"It's no trouble. Really, this is the least I can do. Maybe it's all I can do."

He glanced up. There was a brief flicker of understanding in his eyes, and for the first time, Namie saw the White Fang for who he truly was—not only a kind man, but a formidable shinobi. Smart. Calculating. But for all that he knew, he didn't bother asking her why she was here, why she was watching them so closely—and, most importantly of all, who'd sent her. Given who he was, he probably already knew.

But he didn't know her feelings on the matter.

"Actually, since I'm here, I should thank you. I don't know the full story—I don't know if what you did was wrong or right. I don't really understand it and I'm not sure what I think even matters. All I know is your actions saved someone important to me and for that I'm grateful."

It wouldn't change anything, she knew—it may as well have been lip service, even if it was honest, but a kind word was all she could spare. For him. For Kakashi.

For a moment, he was stunned. Her words were genuine. And such a welcome change from the majority of the treatment he received at any given time. But not even earnest words and gratitude could stop the scorn of an entire village.

His eyes flicked towards the direction Kakashi had gone. "Thank you, Namie-chan. …Please keep being my son's friend."

It wasn't something she could say no to. Not with the way he spoke it—not with the way it held all the weight of a promise. All she could do was nod and accept that there was nothing else to be done.

Hatake Sakumo committed suicide just as her twelfth birthday came to pass.

* * *

(**Note:** Sorry I haven't been replying to reviews lately, but thank you all so much! I'll try to get back into that habit after this update.)


	40. Thirty-six

**Chapter Thirty-six: The Hardest Thing, Moving Past it**

* * *

Namie wasn't used to sneaking around in her own house. She wasn't used to tip-toeing and using the utmost of her silent shinobi skills just to avoid putting too much weight on that one, unavoidable creaky floorboard that seemed to shift locations every time she tried to overstep it. She wasn't used to having a guest camped out on the living room couch, finally resting after going through a bout of insomnia, alone. She wasn't used to quietly approaching the guest just to check on them to make sure they really _were_ sleeping and not—

—No, she didn't have to worry about that. He was asleep. Only asleep.

She'd never seen Kakashi in such a wretched state. With the way his head was angled on the pillows; with the way his hair drooped limply over his eyes; with the way his hands balled into fists near his chest as he curled up on his side—it wasn't a fit state for a child to be in.

The blanket covering him had slipped to the ground. Namie reached for it on impulse before stopping—the picture frame on the end table caught her eye. Not the one of when she received her chūnin certification, fully dressed in the full Konoha uniform with that unsightly green vest (that was a size too big before she'd had it properly fitted)—and sporting a truly goofy grin that embarrassed her now, but the one beside it. Or, the one that had _once_ been beside it, that featured all members of Team One, as it was when they'd first become a team—the one she'd framed immediately after finding it tucked away in a dusty corner beneath her bed, stuck between floor boards—but had been flipped over.

She thought it might have been an accident; that maybe the silver-haired child had knocked it over in his sleep, but…no, it was too deliberate.

It brought back bitter memories. He didn't want to see that familiar scene now. Not_ now_. If she'd remembered the photograph had been there, she would have moved it.

With care, the blonde reached for the picture frame, leaving the blanket slumped and forgotten on the ground.

The moment her fingertips brushed the dark, polished edge of the wooden frame, a hand darted out and small fingers closed around her wrist—not tightly, not threatening, but conveying the message that she should leave it where it was.

Namie turned to meet sharp, onyx eyes—still sharp, still alert, even through this time of mourning and confusion. Too sharp for a child his age. "Sorry," she said quietly, pulling her hand back and carrying out her original plan of picking up the blanket and holding it awkwardly in her arms, not quite knowing what to do with it now that the boy was awake. She wasn't the motherly type who would cover him up when he was awake and well and able to do it himself. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. I was already awake."

She doubted that.

The boy sat up and rubbed at one of his sleepy eyes—lined with weariness and colored with faint shadows that did well to contradict his claim and made for a terrible, aged countenance. "What do you want?"

Even with the way things were, he never dropped the attitude. She wasn't sure if that was reassuring or just plain worrisome. Her lips twisted into a faint grimace as she considered her next words—really, she didn't want to run into this situation because she just…didn't know what to say. She'd tried so hard to keep quiet, until she slipped up. Her words caught slightly on her tongue as she spoke the first thing that came to mind. "How—how are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

'_Yeah, right.' _If anyone knew that was a bald-faced lie, she did. But it was just…too soon. It was still too soon to _tell_ him she knew he wasn't 'fine.' Maybe it was wrong to wait, but the time would come.

Namie pushed the blanket into the boy's arms before turning away and making her way to the kitchen. "I'm gonna make breakfast. You_ better_ eat some this time."

"…Fine." She didn't see it, but she could almost physically feel the boy rolling his eyes as he shuffled to his feet and made his way to the bathroom.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

It was progress.

* * *

Sparring matches with Minato were brutal.

It was no longer a fun and cute, half-hearted play-fight where one was learning the ropes and the other was helping to guide. Now, it was a true battle between shinobi where neither could afford to hold back because if they did, it would only be a waste of everyone's time—and because it could also result in injury if taken lightly.

No, it was no longer fun and games—it was preparation for war.

At least, it had become such an event because Namie refused to have it any other way. There were no limits set, aside from "don't kill each other," which would be impossible for both parties to achieve no matter what. It was unthinkable. The true meaning to that clause was: "don't beat each other up _too_ badly so we both don't end up in the hospital because Kushina will be angry if we do."

This wasn't like a routine match against Hiroto. Though younger, Minato was on another level; she was aware of that. Knew it from a young age. He _would_ become the Fourth Hokage.

Minato's appropriation of the Hiraishin technique in battle was—honestly and truly one-hundred percent—a huge pain in the ass.

He was fast; too fast to catch, either off-guard or for an attack, and his offense was formidable combined with its use. Timing a counter was everything—but when he could practically fly at a moment's notice, that approach was moot, too. He _was—would be—_the Yellow Flash. It was a title he did well to earn.

The training ground was rife with Namie's multiple attempts at landing a hit on her brother. Shuriken and kunai littered the trees like strange, glittery ornaments, and snapped wires glistened under the sun, sewn between the grass from failed attempts to net him in and keep him from escaping with that ridiculous jutsu. Dents and craters from her missed mallet hits split the earth like some sick set-up of whack-a-mole.

She never did find out how its original wielder managed to manipulate its size and weight—the woman was bizarre; it may have stemmed from a kekkei genkai or secret technique, for all she knew. But she was able to upgrade it in a similar way through some creative reworking, and with the help of fuinjutsu and consultation from Kushina, discovered a special type of seal in the vein of the Yin seal that could increase the weight of a target item through small amounts of stored chakra—a welcomed step-up from the lower-level weapon-storage seals she favored.

It took months of training with weights to reach a level where she could appropriately and effectively wield the modified mallet without being slowed down, but the payoff was worth it.

In a sense, Namie was using Minato as a benchmark.

If she could hold her own and at least sustain minimal damage—even just land _one_ hit on her brother—it would convince her she was ready for war.

Only...it didn't change the fact that it was nigh impossible to strike Minato.

She wasn't upset—this was the first time in forever that the older blond had enough spare time to give in to her demands thanks to the skirmishes breaking out across the land. That was part of the reason the match was so intense. There was no time to build up to an all-out, no-holds-barred fight; to gauge each other's skills and adjust accordingly after a series of competitions.

It was a real-time battle where both had to think on their feet and adapt in the moment—like skipping straight to the boss battle without the lead-up set of fights to prepare and hoping for the best.

Shortly after the start of the match, the need for slinging a three-pronged kunai with the Flying Thunder God seal wrapped around its hilt became unnecessary, solely for the reason that Namie's shoulder was still marked with a contact seal and since there were no handicaps, him taking advantage of that wasn't off-limits. It had been a mistake on her part, forgetting the mark remained since their mission to Hot Water's border.

Now, there was no way to predetermine his pattern of attack. He could, quite literally, pop right out of thin air.

_'It would be nice to be a sensory-nin,'_ Namie thought as she shifted her grip on the hilt of her weapon and let her gaze dart around the area. Her brother was in hiding, no doubt preparing an ambush. It would happen instantaneously—there was no way to be prepared for it. Only to brace herself and hope her reaction time was quick enough.

Something sparked in the edge of her vision.

"_Hah!_" Namie immediately whirled, striking with one of the blunt ends of her hammer, feeling its pull against her muscles—her shoulders—and there was contact.

The image of Minato vanished quietly as soon as her weapon collided with it, or rather, passed straight through, and she let the mallet smash into the ground with a dull, heavy thump and send up a cloud of dirt.

Of course. A hollow Clone. A decoy.

Now—it was what she was expecting—he would strike from her blind spot, behind her. But no—he was smarter than that. One step ahead. It would be a fake-out, and as soon as she turned and left herself open, he would attack from the same position as his copy.

She plucked a kunai up from her holster on the sly and held it between her fingers, partially concealed, as she twisted around to feint.

Another Clone. Dispelled, with a strong kick to the stomach. And then—

Again, to the opposite side—

In the first Clone's place was Minato—_really_ Minato, she was sure—coming in for an attack with a kunai.

Namie blocked it with an outstretched hand, protected by a thin layer of faintly-gold chakra in the shape of a rough square.

Minato was caught off-guard by the sudden block—that much she could tell by how his eyes widened, if only for a second, before he recomposed himself. She took that instant to retaliate and strike with her own kunai, aiming for a lethal hit which could quite possibly count a point in her favor.

However, as she'd expected him to, he didn't parry the blade and it pierced straight through his padded vest, causing his form to erupt in a cloud of smoke.

_'No way—Shadow Clone? Then, where is he?!'_

Of course. He was more than just one step ahead—he was at least two. He had no problems with leading her around on a wild goose chase.

Then—hardly a moment after the Clone-Minato was revealed, the earth beneath her feet shifted ever-so-slightly. It was familiar; a technique she knew well, which was exactly why she knew to jump back out of the way just shortly before a dusty hand broke through the ground and grabbed for her leg, only grasping at air.

"Nice reflexes," Minato—finally the man himself and not a Clone, not this time—grinned as he emerged from below the soil and brushed off his clothes.

A small smile quirked her own lips as she took up her mallet. "Thanks." She knew better than to let her guard down when he was standing idly by. He could move at any given moment and make her feel like an idiot for trying. He looked so calm and composed, while she was tense and crouched, holding onto her mallet and ready to strike. It was hardly fair.

Only two minutes had passed.

Namie reached into her back pouch for a storage scroll and returned her large weapon, freeing her hands, then quickly armed herself with a handful of shuriken.

As soon as she let them fly, the chase resumed.

* * *

The match didn't even last five minutes. In the end, Namie was too overworked to continue and Minato was forced to make a call, ending it in his favor.

"I'd barely call that fair," the small blonde grumbled as she morosely tapped her heel against the ground, too beat and scratched-up to even make a scene as she lay sprawled out on the grass. "That Hiraishin makes you practically invincible, Minato. But…it's impressive."

"Is that so?" Minato replied idly as he crouched a short distance away and dug through his bag for first-aid supplies. "I hate to say it, Namie, but you're at _least _five years too soon to challenge me and even come close to winning."

"Don't brag!" The girl pushed herself into a sitting position despite the tautness in her muscles and aches in her bones and managed a half-hearted scowl in her sibling's direction. His words were honest, she knew—he wasn't bragging in the least. That was the difference in their level. In truth, she was proud. He truly was talented, intelligent, and worthy of becoming someone great. Seeing his progress firsthand was as good as winning the fight.

"Sorry," the man replied, smiling slightly. "Oh, you're getting pretty good with your special technique. Did you think up a name for it yet?"

Namie's eyebrows scrunched up as she picked at a scratch on her arm. "No? I didn't really consider it yet. I mean, naming techniques is sort of…"

His face lit up. "_Fun? Exciting?_ You can basically call it whatever you want! Like, maybe the '_Shining Golden Repelling Chakra Shield_' or—"

"Right—I get it. I'll think something up, just please drop the suggestions." She shook her head before sticking out her tongue. It was easy to forget this was the guy who tended to give jutsus really lengthy, nonsensical names. Better to stop him before he got too far ahead of himself.

Minato glanced over his shoulder with a quick, apologetic grin before he returned to his search for bandages and antiseptic—for Namie, of course, because he'd hardly worked up a sweat, let alone been scratched. There was a dusty, oozy cut from a kunai on the girl's cheek that needed to be cleaned and covered.

He finally found a pack of gauze pads and ointment and held them up with a small, triumphant "A-ha!"

Namie rolled her eyes as he approached and knelt down with the first-aid items in-hand. "Really, I'm a chūnin now, Minato. I'm not a baby. I'm too old for this kind of stuff now, riiight?" She nearly cringed when she drew out the final word like Miho was oh-so-fond of doing.

A small smile crossed his face—he almost laughed, but managed to refrain as he put aside his worries and reached out to dab the ointment onto her face. The way she'd quit the whole '_Brother'_ thing and switched to simply calling him 'Minato' definitely showed her desire to be viewed as the almost-teenager-and-chūnin that she was, but he couldn't just…_not_ look after her.

"Twelve, sixteen, twenty—sixty. No matter how old you get, you'll _always_ be my baby sister.

That certainly shut her up—but for an entirely different reason. She glanced off towards a patch of trees as he fixed a gauze bandage to her cheek. "You think we'll live that long?"

The question sobered up the joy in the atmosphere as well as a dry sponge soaked up water.

It cut open old, stubborn wounds that would probably never fully heal.

Minato couldn't answer right away—froze, in fact, with his fingertips still smoothing down the bandage adhesive. He studied his sister's face, noted how she wouldn't meet his eyes, and slowly let his hands fall. He sank to the ground beside her and followed her line of sight.

She never bothered sugar-coating things—hid things, certainly, but when she spoke honestly she always ripped right to the heart of the matter. Already the glow of pride on her face from being promoted dulled—but then again, she'd experienced more than some chūnin would in a lifetime. He could see that she understood the implications of war and that any day now the announcement would come.

As a chūnin, she would be on the field with him when that day came.

"Do you want to?" He couldn't give her a straight answer, because he didn't know. He couldn't predict the future and knew better than to sow false hope because it could destroy as well as encourage, and nothing was certain on the battlefield. Nothing was certain in the life of a shinobi.

She didn't hesitate a moment before nodding gravely.

"Then—"

"_Hey, hey! Are you two done fighting? I brought lunch!_" A familiar call interrupted him, catching both of their attention and leaving the topic forgotten.

Kushina emerged from the trees and into the damaged forest clearing with a wave.

"Kushina!" Namie was the first to rise to her feet, despite her earlier fatigue, and scrambled towards the redhead. Her pace slowed when she realized Kushina wasn't alone.

"Hey, Namie-brat! Look who I ran into on the way here. I thought I'd bring him along since I packed a lot of food. We should all have a picnic, 'ttebane!" The woman grinned proudly and nudged the silver-haired boy into plain sight—or, rather, smacked him soundly on the back, forcing him half-stumbling forwards.

"Oh, Kakashi." It was more of a statement than a greeting. Namie scratched lightly at the fresh bandage on her cheek, unsure of what else to say. It was strange seeing him outside in the sun after he'd been cooped up inside mourning for the past two months. Kushina must have run into him at the house, knowing he needed to try and get out and take those first few steps past grief. And being who she was, he couldn't really put the idea out of her head and had no choice but to follow along.

Kakashi cast a brief glance around the training area, noting the damage, before sending the girl a lazy, unimpressed stare and blinking. "Namie."

He was always difficult to read, and if she didn't know better, she'd assume he was acting normal. But there was something haunted in his gaze, a little hopeless, a little lonely, and if she didn't know him, Namie would have missed it.

Kushina's grin became slightly forced as she worked to keep up the energetic momentum that followed in her wake. "Actually, you know, I had to borrow some of your leftover rice. Kakashi-kun helped make the riceballs."

"I didn't really help," the boy corrected.

The redhead's smile faltered. Well, he wasn't wrong—he'd only really stood around while she chattered on and on and heated up the rice. "C-come on. You _did _cut up the nori strips."

"Why don't we go find a nice place to eat?" Minato cut in, knowing Kushina meant for the best but well aware that Kakashi had to work through this at his own pace.

"There's something I have to do while I'm out. Go on without me." Kakashi didn't bother waiting for an answer and began to walk away, leaving them standing in various degrees of shock.

Namie watched him go for a moment before following after, shooting a glance at her brother and Kushina over her shoulder as she went. She would handle it.

* * *

Kakashi didn't say a word as they walked through the streets. He was fully aware she was following him, she knew, and she made no effort to conceal it. She only trailed along, a few steps behind, waiting for the right time to speak.

When he stopped, she figured that was it.

"What's your deal?" Namie began, crossing her arms. "Kushina-nee was only trying to do something nice.

The boy sighed. "Didn't I say to go on without me?"

"Maybe I didn't want to. Look, I—"

"You shouldn't have come. Go away."

"'_Go away?'_ I'm worried here, Kakashi." It took all she had to keep her voice level. Yelling wouldn't help. "This is the first time you've been out, and…"

"Don't worry so much, then. I'm not your family."

He hadn't turned to face her the entire time they'd been talking, yet when he said this, she grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to face her.

After regaining his footing from being spun around, he looked at the gloved hand that held him firmly, noting the thin, pale scars that snaked out from beyond the black material on her forearm. They were from animals—talon marks. He'd had similar scratches from tiny puppy claws—from dogs he hadn't seen since they'd been dismissed to the contract.

He tried to shake off the hold but she held fast, irritating him more and more by the second. He really didn't want it to come to this, but—as soon as she opened her mouth to speak again, off-guard, he reached out, grabbing her in a hold, and flipped her onto the ground. She landed on her back with a wheeze and a pained grimace. He nearly felt bad, really, but she should have stopped while she was ahead. Still, he stood over the blonde and waited to see if she was alright—waited to see if that defused the situation, because he half expected her to jump right back up kicking and screaming.

Namie grit her teeth through a flash of pain as she cracked an eye open and stared up at the silver-haired boy, never expecting him to outright _throw_ her and, quite literally, show her a new perspective. Her frustration dwindled as her gaze wandered to the sky, then to the neighborhood surrounding them. It was quiet—they were the only ones on the street. And the street was familiar. He'd led them directly to his home.

He was _going_ home.

The first visit since the incident—since the death. She'd tried her best to keep him away from it—that was the whole reason she'd opened her home to him. He had no family and no one to support him and guide him through the loss after his father's passing and she'd be damned if she'd left everything to the Hokage. She'd offered (all but fought tooth-and-nail) to let Kakashi board with her family for an indefinite period of time, and he wasn't in a fit state to reject it at the time.

But now…he was.

"…Are you sure?" were the only words she could muster as she pushed herself into a sitting position on the ground and rubbed a soothing hand along her back, feeling no lasting pain save for wounded pride. "You don't have to. Not yet."

He breathed a quiet sigh and turned his eyes toward the empty house. "Go back home, Namie."

Looking at that house, he didn't seem like a child. He was a preview of his future self; burdened, suffering. Yet still moving forward.

She almost didn't let him go—but when he approached his home, she didn't stop him.

* * *

Kakashi hated this house.

He hated that it was so familiar—that it was something he'd lost the same day he'd lost his father within its walls.

He could never consider it a home again. Only a house. A simple building. Walls, floors, a roof—nothing more. Nothing that held memories and warmth and…life.

The floors never creaked, old as they were. Dusty as they were, recording his visit in footsteps as he walked the hallway.

This wasn't for the sake of nostalgia.

This wasn't for the sake of grief.

His belongings were still in this house, untouched and preserved in a gray, monochromatic film.

He avoided the living room. Made his way to his bedroom, opened the door and shattered that temporal freeze with the simple flip of a switch that cast the room in a yellow glow, bringing it back to life.

His bed was unmade, the sheets were rumpled, blankets half-fallen to the floor, sad and bent. It would have been made-up nice and neat that day, right after breakfast, if he hadn't discovered his father's body first.

Kakashi clenched his hands into fists when he felt a slight tremor shake through his fingertips. Walked forward, breaking through the cloud of memories, and picked up his largest backpack—reached for whatever he could, shoving it all in without order and without care and yanked the drawstrings together when nothing else would fit. He turned his back to it and left it all behind.

He didn't want to see the living room.

Yet the door loomed before him, shut firmly in its frame but yearning to be opened just one last time, as if the house knew this was the last visit—the last sign of life that would ever grace its interior.

He would have ignored the call if he didn't have to retrieve one last thing from that room.

He reached out for the door—his fingers brushed its edge, lingered, before he took hold of it and slid it across its tracks with a quiet clatter.

A foreign sense of relief washed over him as the empty room greeted him.

The body had long since been removed, and the tatami mats replaced. But the memories stained deep into the foundation.

He padded silently across those tatami mats, toward his mother's altar. He couldn't leave her image here—not _here._ Sometimes he wondered if his father had meant to commit suicide under the eyes of his late wife—as a promise to reunite with her in the afterlife, as an apology, as the ultimate punishment…

Kakashi inherited much of his appearance from his mother, that much was clear not only from her photograph but from his earliest, muddled childhood memories of her kind face.

Hatake Nao passed away when he was not quite two years of age. Too young to grasp the concept of death but aware enough to realize her absence. He did come to understand soon enough. That while he inherited his father's light, spiky hair and black eyes, he'd inherited his mother's delicate face, from the hooded shape of the eyes, to the small mole on the left side of his chin. He could see his mother in himself. He could see the flicker of sadness in his father's eyes when he looked at him at times because _he_ could see it too, more than anyone.

It was when he'd come to realize this that Kakashi's began to cover that face, smothering the only memento she'd left for him. Except for the eyes. But if he didn't need them, he'd cover them, too.

He took the photograph and packed it carefully into his traveling bag, throwing something needless aside to make proper space. He didn't feel quite so alone. Not anymore.

As he straightened up, another photo caught his eye. It was one he'd thought to leave—one he nearly turned his back on. Despite himself, he removed it from the wall and packed it away beside his mother's frame. He would probably regret it if he didn't, because he didn't plan on setting foot inside this place at any other time.

He didn't bother taking one last look around. He didn't bother looking at the spot where he found his father's body.

He didn't look back.

* * *

Namie remained much in the same place he'd left her, only standing up and pacing with her hands wringing the hem of her shirt that stuck out past her vest. Her eyes snapped towards him as soon as she heard the front door click in its frame and it was a mannerism he'd seen in his father's dogs. The mannerism of a watchdog.

He didn't have the strength to roll his eyes. For once—just once—he wished she'd listen. How hard was it to just go back to her house?

Pretty damn hard, obviously. And the worrying only made it that much more difficult—why couldn't she see that? She worried too much about things, and it wasn't just him. It was just in her nature, he supposed.

He had a strong, nostalgic feeling that his mother was once the same way. It didn't help that the mole on her face was in much the same place as hers—as his—and he tried to ignore it most of the time but now, now it took root as a misplaced bitterness that he couldn't shake.

"Kakashi." Her voice broke the silence. Her eyes studied the bulging backpack he held over one shoulder and flitted to the house behind him, then to the side—anywhere to avoid looking directly at him. A sign of guilt. She probably regretted not leaving when he told her to.

"Where are you going?" There was a rush of urgency in her words and her hands curled into fists at her side—she was suddenly alert, her gaze hyper-focused but still not quite meeting his. Her feet were set in a wide stance, a defensive stance.

"I'm going back to your house." Better not to let her imagination run away with her. He even managed to hold back a sigh.

Her back straightened. She relaxed. Looked relieved, more than anything, but continued kneading the hem of her shirt between her hands.

"You know…when you're ready, we can go to the Hokage to have your father's will read."

"'We?' What makes you think I need you there?"

"I don't—I just—" She fidgeted again, tearing her hands away from her shirt and slapping her palms to her eyes as she threw back her head with a disgusted scoff. "Look, I know you need your space, but I just—I wish you would _tell_ me something. Anything. I'm here. And if not me, Minato's here. Kushina's here—even Taji." Finally, she looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't…want to lose you to this."

It dawned on him. Of course, he should have noticed it sooner. His fingers tightened around the backpack's strap and he stood tall, fixing her with an even glare. "That's what this is, isn't it? You're selfish. It isn't about me, but about _keeping me around. _Do you even _care?_"

He expected her to look shocked, or even to get angry—the only reaction she allowed was a slight widening of the eyes as her hands fell to her sides and she stilled—the entire atmosphere seemed to still and there wasn't even a trace of the breeze that wound through the streets before. All there was was a lonely and quiet street brightened only by the sun until the clouds eclipsed it, casting them both in shadow, casting Namie's face in shadow. And then, he saw it. A minute change in her expression—just a slight, sad quirk of the lips.

"So what?"

He was the one who ended up shocked—she'd turned the tables so easily with that one simple question. What was worse, she wasn't trying to hide it. Wasn't trying to scramble out some half-assed excuse. "'_So what?'_" he repeated incredulously, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice as he stepped forward. Who cared if he was making a scene—really, there was nobody around to see. She continued speaking before he could add anything else, as if he'd never said anything at all and he froze.

"I'm selfish. I want you to stay around—I don't want you to be alone during all this. If you were anyone else, I probably wouldn't give a damn, but I _do_ know you, so don't think for a second I_ don't_ care.

"You lost your dad—I've lost people, too. My parents." At this, her eyes flicked away, if only briefly. "And Kasuga. It feels like I even lost Hiroto-sensei because he won't see me. I know how it is. It hurts and it'll never go away. But I don't know how _you_ feel, so rely on me a little, okay? You're still my teammate. No—you're my friend. I don't want to lose you, too, and if you think all of that is selfish then I'm fine with _being _selfish."

Kakashi blinked. Looked away, hiding his expression. Hiding the turmoil he'd tried so hard to keep locked up—no matter how hard he tried, she was always there to poke and prod and pull it out of him. Little taps against the glass bottle that held everything in, at first, and then she had to go and shake it all up until it all bubbled up and exploded. No, really, it was more like she threw it to the ground and shattered it all. And damn him if he wasn't moved, because he couldn't remember the last time she was so _real._ So what if she wasn't doing this for him—she was doing this for herself and she was fully aware of it. Somehow, it was better that way.

He breathed out a long-suffering sigh, and with the breath that left him, so, too, did a little bit of his grief.

"What hurts the most is that everyone seems so _glad_ he's gone." It was all he would confide, because it was still too hard. One day, maybe, he would tell her more, but for now it was enough. He shook his head a little and hitched the backpack further up onto his shoulder as he approached Namie and passed her without stopping to get a good look at her expression, because he didn't need to see it.

The dirt at her feet was dotted with tears.

* * *

Contrary to what he'd said, Kakashi allowed Namie along during the reading of his father's will. It was no big event—only the two and the Hokage were present to hear it. Yet they dressed in somber clothes far removed from their shinobi gear and it was almost as if the reading was a placeholder for the funeral Sakumo was never given.

Namie leaned against the closed door with arms crossed while she watched the two. The Hokage sorted through his scrolls, seeking the right one, and it didn't take long for him to find it. He avoided her gaze the entire time, as it should be.

She never hated the man as much as she did now.

Whatever he'd thought she'd accomplish by tailing the White Fang when he'd been alive was pointless—and if there had been a reason at all, it failed. It didn't matter now and it was all too little too late. But she wasn't here to glare daggers at their esteemed leader. She was here to support her friend.

Kakashi stood at attention before their Hokage, for once not an insufferably smug brat, and no longer looking a little sad and broken, but as a trained, respectful shinobi. She wondered just how much respect he would hold for the old man if he knew even half of what she did. She didn't know what he expected (she knew), but it would certainly bring him some closure. Or it would drive the blade of loss deeper into his heart. If it did, she would be there to yank it right back out.

The Hokage cleared his throat as he unrolled the will scroll and gave it a brief once-over, but Namie was certain he'd read it over already, as there were two specific items present with it. "Hatake Kakashi. Your father, Hatake Sakumo, named you as the beneficiary to two items. First, the deed to his home to do with as you see fit." He moved the signed deed forward across his desk and Kakashi nodded before accepting it. There was a brief pause in which the man read over the will once more, before meeting the boy's eyes. "He has also left you his trademark white light chakra saber."

His reluctance wasn't misplaced. Kakashi was to inherit the defining aspect of a disgraced shinobi—it would be a cause for concern to anyone who didn't know the future. Perhaps it still was. Maybe he'd rather keep it for himself, or lock it away in storage forever, because everyone knew who it once belonged to.

He didn't yet hand over the sheathed tantō blade—there was something else in the document that his eyes were focused on. "Your mother, Hatake Nao, upon the death of both parents, named you as the successor to the eight following ninken summons: Pakkun, Bull, Urushi, Shiba, Bisuke, Akino, Ūhei, and Guruko. Have you signed the summoning contract?"

His shoulders tensed. He shook his head slightly. "No, sir."

"We'll have it arranged. In the meantime, this reading has concluded." He picked up an ink brush and signed his name across the document before sliding it, and the blade, across his desk. "Please sign here. And Namie-kun, sign as a witness."

The girl did as she was told without a word, and watched carefully as Kakashi accepted the chakra saber with no notable reaction. He simply held it as if it were any other weapon instead of one with great weight and the history of a legend; one that wouldn't become a staple of his arsenal in his teenage years. As for his _mother_, and what she'd left for him…

"How're you holding up?" she asked after they left the tobacco-scented office behind. As soon as the doors closed behind them, his shoulders slumped and if she wasn't mistaken, she heard a sigh. But he didn't speak until they were well past the administration building.

"I don't want that house."

"No? Then sell it."

His eyebrows furrowed as he shot a skeptical look over his shoulder, because, really, who would buy the White Fang's home?

"We could always burn it," Namie offered with a crooked grin.

"Okay. I'll burn it down."

She jumped slightly—grabbed him by the shoulder and glanced around skittishly because of how damn _serious_ he sounded. "Hey—I was just kidding. Don't actually do that! The last thing we need is you going to jail for arson." Her panic faded when she noticed the shadow of a smirk behind his mask. It wasn't a smile, or anything like it, but it was a step up from the grim persona that seized him as of late. Even if he was making fun of her, it was better than having him brood and go all silent.

It was progress.


	41. Thirty-seven

**Chapter Thirty-seven: Into the Thick of It/Starting Line**

* * *

Nobody was in this house. Or if they were, they were ignoring her.

_Every single time_ she came by.

Namie rang the doorbell once more—pushed the button hard and let the chime draw out into an obnoxious monotone buzz before stepping back and crossing her arms when no footsteps or any manner of shuffling sounded within.

Wrangling the address out of Inori had been the easy part. Getting ahold of Hiroto wasn't.

She didn't make it a habit to hound him and abuse his doorbell. But ever since she became a chūnin and got the idea in her head to visit him, just to _see_ him, to gloat, maybe, and to check his wellbeing after everything, he was nowhere to be found. And now that Kakashi was getting on better than before—still not great, but sure as hell _better_—it was easier to shift her focus to others.

The houseplant she'd left at his doorstep did vanish somewhere, however. Maybe some kid came and snatched it up—maybe a kind plant enthusiast adopted it so it wouldn't freeze in winter. Maybe he had the decency to accept it and take it into his home.

Her foot began an unsteady tap against the porch in an unconscious desire to just kick the door down. She didn't have all the time in the world to wait for an answer that wouldn't come, but she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet.

Seconds passed. A minute trickled by and still nothing.

It didn't matter how long she waited.

"Oh? Dear, are you looking for someone?"

An elderly woman with a stooped back and sweet, round face caught her as she left the house behind and returned to the street in a huff. She managed a wry smile at the woman as she approached and met her eyes, finding it easy as they were the same height. "I am. Sarutobi Hiroto."

The woman's eyes widened in wonder. "Hiro-chan? He hasn't been in that house for months, my girl. He moved back to the Sarutobi compound to be with his family. You haven't heard?"

She froze. Of course—should have realized it sooner. His family's home was exactly where he would be if he was still recovering and not living in this house. Only, she wasn't quite sure where that compound even was or if she could just rush in all willy-nilly, demanding to see him. Probably not.

"…Thank you." She bowed to the elderly woman before hurrying down the street.

There was one person who could help her out with this—and that same person completely neglected to mention Hiroto had _moved_. No wonder he gave up the address so easily… She'd really give him a piece of her mind when she reached the hospital.

Only, as she was rushing ahead with her tunnel vision, an arm snaked out and caught her around the neck in a clothesline, yanking her back. For a second, she blacked out—then hacked out a heaving cough as the pressure was removed from her throat and the arm wound around her shoulders in an amiable hold. "_What_ is with you and trying to break my neck, Miho!? It's gonna kill me one of these days and I swear I'll haunt you!"

"Is it my fault your reflexes are terrible?" Miho hummed as Namie grabbed her arm and flung it off, pausing to massage her throat, scowling.

She opened her mouth to tell her off, but the clan marking on her shirt drew her attention. She straightened up, aching neck forgotten, and regarded the girl thoughtfully. "Say, Miho…how close are you with the Sarutobi clan?"

"The Nara clan has good relations with them. Why?"

"Can you give me a reason to go there?"

A sly grin crossed her face. "Of course I can. A festival is going to be held there soon. It mostly includes the Sarutobi, Nara, Akimichi and Yamanaka clans, but guests can be invited. Do you want to be my plus one?"

"I'll go. Give me the where and when and I'll—"

"What are _you_ doing here, Miho?"

Namie's head snapped towards the voice on instinct—and cracked rather unpleasantly. She reached up to soothe the brief sting of pain as her eyes landed on Uchiha Kyouya.

His eyes flicked between the blonde and brunette, one grimacing and the other beaming. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his katana.

"Oh, I'm just chatting with Namie-chan here. It isn't a crime."

"You're practically a crime yourself." Disgust burned in his eyes as he gave her a piercing stare before tearing his gaze away, to the blonde. "Namie, we have a mission. Quit messing around."

Between being annoyed by the slightly-murderous Miho and taking part in a mission with such a grumpy teenager, an _Uchiha_ teenager, Namie gladly would have taken the former. But she couldn't really blame him for his attitude—she did accidentally break his favorite katana with her mallet during their last sparring match. It was his best one, he'd whined, quite near tears. He'd probably hold a grudge forever. Regardless, she didn't ignore the pushy glare he sent her way and followed after him without complaint and without a word to the brunette.

"See you later, best friend!"

It took all she had to keep from turning around and flipping the girl off.

Kyouya stalked on ahead and didn't speak until they'd reached the chūnin standby station and then, he obnoxiously followed Namie to her equipment locker as she pulled out her vest and mission supplies.

"You're _friends_ with that girl?"

"I don't remember saying that," she refuted while zipping her vest over her slightly-too-big shirt and taking a length of bandage to wrap around her thigh.

"It looked pretty damn friendly to me. Did you forget who she was? What she's _done?_ She'll kill you without an ounce of guilt!"

"If any of that looked even _remotely_ friendly, Kyouya, you need to get your regular eyes checked. Try using your Sharingan next time or something." She snapped her kunai holster in place before fitting her waist pouch around the padded vest—always a challenge, always a hindrance, but she had yet to find one with proper storage that could sit lower.

She never could tell with him—if he was concerned, or just hell bent on hating Miho forever. Before they'd been assigned as partners, she'd been convinced the only two people he cared about in the world were Hibiki and Kohaku. There were the few rare sparks of concern towards her, now, but he was about as in touch with his emotions as a rock and he couldn't properly show it and came across as more insufferable than anything. Maybe Obito dodged a bullet by being largely ignored by this guy.

"I don't need my eyes checked," he muttered out, crossing his arms protectively over his vest. "You just need to be careful." There was a beat of silence as he shifted on his feet and glanced towards an empty corner of the room, then continued speaking in a low voice. "You didn't hear this from me, but her genin teammates disappeared. Don't know if it was just a rumor or what, but I haven't seen them around. And knowing her…"

'_Disappeared…?'_ Her fingers paused in their struggle against the nylon, but she didn't try to meet his eyes. It was certainly true the girl had spent quite a bit of time tagging along after her—putting it kindly and in less criminal terms— with the whole buddy-buddy act trying to be on her best behavior, and after her admission of wanting to leave the village, it wouldn't surprise her if she pulled some stupid stunt like that. But…with the way her reasoning worked, she didn't seem the type to get rid of her own teammates. They weren't worth it.

…Or was she wrong…?

"I can handle myself." The pack just wouldn't snap—she shot an unimpressed stare his way. "Can you stop standing there all useless and help me, here?"

"What happened to 'I can handle myself?'" He obliged nonetheless, fastening the belt together securely at her back. "You should really consider upgrading your stuff. And get an outfit that fits better under the vest."

She took a moment to eye his long-sleeved, plum-colored, high-collared Uchiha shirt and the glaring clan symbol at its left bottom corner. "I'm not taking fashion advice from _you_."

Kyouya sent her a long, hard stare. "Whatever. Let's go get the mission rundown."

* * *

"Y'know, just between us, I get pretty tired of delivering confidential scrolls."

"So you say every time we're sent away on a courier mission," Kyouya replied without missing a beat as he smoothly pulled his newest katana from a single, wayward bandit's corpse and shook off the blood with a quick flick.

Namie set a hand on the scroll packed neatly away in her storage bag, just to double-check even though she was certain it was there. Kyouya acted fast—eliminated the threat the moment she'd realized there was one, before she could even draw a weapon. "I mean, you know the saying, right? 'Don't shoot the messenger?' People don't seem to realize _we're_ the messengers and they try to kill us anyway."

"I'm pretty sure that's not exactly the right context. But in a literal sense…you're not wrong."

"'Course I'm not. But, really, they don't even know what they're gonna get. It's just like 'surprise!' it's the daimyo's super-detailed shopping list."

He shot her a weary look as he sheathed his sword and scanned the treetops briefly, seeing something she didn't, though she suspected it—ANBU protection. At least one shinobi. When they weren't part of a squad, or didn't have a higher ranking shinobi sent along to lead, it was a guarantee someone else was guarding them. Or rather, the scroll they carried. If they fell and were unable to complete their objective, the back-up would continue in their place—a heavy truth to accept.

It was a dull job, but she was well aware she had to gain her chūnin foothold somewhere and prove herself through whatever uneventfulness or (hoping against hope) danger that emerged.

"Just make sure the rest of our way is clear."

Namie shrugged and whistled out a shrill call that carried on the wind, before lifting up the arm covered with a more protective, thicker glove material and mesh that stretched up past her elbow and into her shirt sleeve, unlike the other that stopped midway up her forearm. Her eyes rose to the sky as a similar cry echoed back and a black pinpoint above slowly descended, circling once, before flapping tawny-brown wings and alighting on the outstretched limb.

"Hey, you're getting better at that," Kyouya noted briefly, eyeing the bird.

"Of _course_ she is; she has a wonderful teacher!" the tawny, wide-eyed hawk perched on Namie's arm chirped out proudly as her head turned animatedly away from the blonde, to the Uchiha, then back to the blonde. "Not a cloud in sight, Goldilocks."

"_Hey_, don't call me that around people," Namie protested weakly as she shifted her arm a bit, still not entirely accustomed to the sensation of razor-sharp claws hooking onto her skin without the added protection of chakra—the hawks were too sensitive to it, they claimed. Preferred a more traditional landing space. She thought they were just sadists.

"What, like he's one to talk with _that _flat hair? Yours is just so pretty," the bird paused to fondly peck the side of Namie's head, pulling a few locks free from beneath her forehead protector—accidentally yanking one out—before she could dodge away. She'd have to remember the bird's strange habit. "Well then, I'll keep on watching and tell you if any stormy weather heads our way."

"…Thanks, Hisami."

The bird smiled—or rather, her demeanor hinted at it paired with a slight parting of her morbid, blood-streaked beak—before pushing off from her landing perch and disappearing in a flurry of wings, taking to the sky once more.

Namie's eyes snapped towards Kyouya when something that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter met her ears, but his back was to her on the pretense of keeping watch. She rolled her eyes before reaching up and trying to straighten her beak-mussed hair.

"Come on, let's get this secret cookbook or whatever it is where it's supposed to go."

* * *

Their destination was a trader village called Ogata that sat at the base of a mountain and had only one main streetway, divided by a narrow stream running through its center—a stream they'd followed for the past few kilometers that branched off to the sea. The homes and shops on either side were a hodgepodge of old and traditional and cleaner, neater modern styles.

They expected to hear and see the hustle and bustle of a thriving location, however small, as soon as they were within viewing distance of its structures.

However, the sight they stumbled upon was a veritable ghost town.

"Something stinks," Namie voiced their shared conclusion with a scowl as her eyes shot briefly to the sky. "Hisami didn't think to mention this…?"

"You ordered her to tell you if there's danger on the way. This isn't technically danger. Yet." Kyouya's fingers settled on the sheath of his katana as he closed his eyes and reopened them as blazing Sharingan. "Nothing in the mission detail said this was an abandoned or low-populated area."

"Special occasion, maybe?"

"Or a hostage situation."

"With the entire village…? Wasn't this a C-rank mission?" She crouched behind the brush that concealed them a short distance east of Ogata and pulled out a map to check their location—something Kyouya handled before they departed Konoha. Her eyes flitted across the boundary lines and tangled river webs before zeroing in on a location marked with the village's name near the ocean. It wasn't a border village. Still, close enough to the Land of Rivers' border to wonder and perhaps to worry—but the mountain range behind it provided for a difficult obstacle if enemies thought to target it. The open sea, on the other hand…

"How are relations with the Land of Rivers?" she questioned, following his line of sight but seeing only half—less—of what he did.

"There's no known animosity. But with things as they are now, who can tell? It's too soon to jump to conclusions, just hold on." He held up a dismissive hand.

While Kyouya surveyed the village, eyes trained in pure concentration, Namie unzipped his backpack and retrieved the village map provided for the mission. Their delivery point was the leader's home, situated directly at the foot of the mountain the center of the settlement. She scanned the map for other marked points of interest that could merit attack, simultaneously memorizing the layout.

"There's a chakra signature—no, two," he suddenly spoke, eyes narrowing. "Moving between houses."

At the same time, Hisami swooped down from the sky and took hold of Namie's quickly outstretched arm in a flurry of puffed-up feathers. "There are shinobi in that village—not from Konoha. They've got a different symbol! I-I'm sorry, I didn't see them before, it all looked normal, Goldilocks—"

"It's fine. You did well to tell me now." She stroked the bird's frazzled feathers back against her head before dismissing her. If combat broke out, she would only be injured in the crossfire. Her eyes met Kyouya's, gauging the situation.

He noted the way her hand reached for her weapon scroll and shook his head almost imperceptibly. "We can't go charging in. We're only two. Well…" his eyes wandered to the treetops behind them, where he could see traces of a flame-colored chakra loitering out of sight beyond the leaves. Then—it multiplied into five. His lips parted in warning as he drew his katana, but it was already too late—the signature extinguished as the body of their ANBU tail dropped to the ground with a dull thump.

Namie leapt to her feet, fingers folded together and at the ready—the instant the four shinobi revealed themselves to surround them, she called forth a rough, rounded earth-style wall to block their path and provide time to regroup.

They were too fast.

One scaled the wall and flung a barrage of shuriken towards Namie while the kusarigama shinobi engaged Kyouya, trapping his blade in chains. It was jerked from his grasp, yet he wasn't left helpless. He returned a fireball jutsu, drove the shinobi back, and dove for his sword.

The shuriken were easy enough to roll and dodge, yet Namie's hand buzzed with chakra, itching to pull up a shield. She resisted the urge and pushed off from the ground, reaching instead for her mallet and bringing it down swinging against the earth-wall, crushing the bottom of its foundation and sending it tumbling backward at the same time another Tani shinobi rushed her with a swipe of a kunai. She ducked low—brought her mallet in an upward swing and cracked the man's jaw, shattered teeth, as blood frothed and spewed from between his torn lips and he dropped backwards.

A katana pierced the air where her head had been only a second before—would have, if a body hadn't shoved her out of the way and steel clanged against steel, sparking.

Kyouya was fast, but not fast enough—the kusarigama followed in his wake, bladed end set on hooking his side—but ricocheted against the yellow-green sheet of chakra projecting from Namie's hand. The moment it bounced back, she reached out and snatched it by the handle, yanking it back with all her strength and pulling its wielder onto their knees.

Namie's hold slackened, then released completely, when a firm kick to the side of her knee dropped her. The kusarigama shinobi recovered quickly enough to launch their second chain. It clamped into her leg and dragged her across the dirt—she snatched it with one hand and pried it apart with a chakra-infused hand, snapping the reinforced links. The blade tip remained buried in her thigh—she pulled it out and threw it aside without care before rising once again and facing the shinobi, walking with a slight limp before picking up speed and rushing them full on with fire in her eyes and mallet in hand.

Kyouya found himself pinioned between the katana wielder and a taijutsu specialist who armed himself with a kunai, throwing punches with the potential to impale. He ducked low—evaded the katana, thrust the hilt of his own backwards to pummel the other nin in the chest with great force, keeping his eyes focused on not only his two immediate opponents but also his partner and the third enemy. The Tani nin were either oblivious or plain stupid—the sight of his Sharingan didn't faze them when it very well should have made them at least hesitate. While the taijutsu nin recovered from the strike to his sternum, the other locked blades with him once again and pushed down, trying to force him to release it, and the lower it fell, the closer the tip of the other's katana came to cutting him. His arms trembled from the effort to maintain his sword's position—they clattered together with an unharmonious, metallic staccato that pierced his ears, had his heart racing—and he was losing.

A foot slammed into the back of his leg and sent it buckling—at the same time, the enemy katana slid along his blade and split through the guard of his vest, slicing his shoulder. He threw method and form to the wind—flipped his blade and gripped it in a familiar manner he'd memorized before swiping it upwards a the swordsman's face—landing a nice, clean gash all the way across it and through one eye at the tail end of the strike.

The shinobi fell with an agonized yell, clutching at the ruined eye, and Kyouya spun with the momentum of his blow and thrust his blade through the body of the remaining offender in quick succession.

He paused for a breather—exhaled after holding it in for what seemed like an eternity. But they weren't out of the woods—one remained. And six more chakra signatures flashed in the distance. He turned to Namie.

Unfettered violence of the battlefield—enemy versus enemy—was still a fresh experience. There was no one to protect, now—no revenge, no _fear_. Only the rush of the fight and the desire for victory. Had a mission ever been like this? She couldn't remember. Only felt a rage unlike any other simmering below the surface, in the core of her heart, fueling her legs forward, to her target. They were in the way. They were an obstacle—needed to be crushed.

Namie brought her mallet down in a heavy arc zeroed in on the body of the Tani nin—missed by a hairsbreadth as he zipped back and reeled in his remaining scythe. Then—he turned and ran. There was no fear in his eyes that she saw. It was a calculated retreat. If there was fear, she might have forgiven him, but she wouldn't let him escape so easily. She shifted her mallet to one hand and reached into her supply pack, withdrawing a kunai wrapped in an explosive note. A spark of chakra triggered it as it flew through her fingers and stabbed into the man's vest from behind. He paused—hesitated. Reached back to remove it, but it was too late. The bomb detonated in a heatwave of fire and dust that knocked him to the ground. And when he fell, back scorched and bleeding, she was there, looming over him like death with a terrible, hardened leer and heavy weapon ready to crush the life out of him and end the pain.

Only, an arm held her back.

Kyouya's hand hooked around Name's elbow and he jerked her away from the moment of judgment, calling for an impromptu retreat. She stumbled a few steps in his hold, her heels unwilling to leave the ground and follow, yet she lowered her mallet. It dragged across the ground a meter before she blinked back into reality and let their situation sink in. She met his urgent gaze and returned her weapon to its scroll in understanding before they both took off at a run, battered and bleeding, and in dire need of escape.

The six shinobi blocked their path.

* * *

"Get your filthy fuckin' hands_ off_ me," Namie snarled at the shinobi that had bound her wrists behind her back in chains, forcing her to walk along with the oh-so-considerate support of a rough hand around her arm and a kunai at her throat. Blood streaked her leg—she didn't register it during the heat of battle, but the kusarigama had sliced a shallow gash on the outside of her thigh, where her kunai holster once rested. Kyouya was worse off—blood soaked into the left side of his clothing and dripped to the ground with each step and his complexion had never looked so pale.

The only response her captor gave was a harsh shove forward that nearly skewered her on the blade at her throat—but she supposed that was only natural. He sported a bloody nose from her earlier thrashing and wasn't keen on hospitality.

But they were still alive. Stripped of their weapons and mission scroll and dignity, but alive.

The Tani nin were beyond moronic if they expected the lives of two chūnin to be worth anything in a hostage situation, however, because there was no other reason to spare them.

Anger, humiliation, and a misplaced humor burned in her chest—why did she always end up as a captive with an _Uchiha_ at her side?

The captors led them to the village leader's home—she recognized the location from her glimpse at the map—and as soon as they were inside, they understood that this was indeed a hostage situation. Not just with them, but with the village leader, bound and guarded near the back of the room.

A leg knocked against the backs of her knees, effectively dropping her into a kneel before another Tani shinobi with a clean, untarnished appearance and a cool, emotionless face. The kunai tip was at her neck, now, just beneath the base of her skull, and the sudden fall made her head spin. The sound of Kyouya biting back a slurred curse from the same treatment nearly caused her to glance his way, but she refrained. Showing concern wouldn't get her anywhere, not right now.

One of the Tani nin dug through her confiscated waist bag before transferring a sealed scroll—the _mission_ scroll—to the hands of the cool-faced shinobi—the delinquent leader.

"It's fake," he refused, holding his hand up without touching the object. "Dispose of it." The nin with the scroll nodded once before disappearing from the room to do as commanded.

Namie's eyebrows furrowed. _Fake?_ It wasn't even a mission worthy of something so convoluted—not before the Tani nin ambushed them. Murky thoughts swirled in her mind, grasping at sense and logic. The confidential scroll was apparently fake—the ANBU tailing them had been killed—but by the four men who attacked? Who'd been so weak against them? Even with a sneak attack, low-level ninja like those couldn't fell a trained ANBU shinobi. Her eyes swept the room, lingering briefly on the middle-aged village leader guarded—threatened—between two Tani nin, then studying the other shinobi present in the room. Minus the one that just left, there were seven. None looked particularly challenging, or talented—they barely looked competent.

She fidgeted with the chains crossing her wrists, finding them only decorum—she could snap them, but fighting back at this point was damn near impossible. At times like this it was best to analyze the situation and gather information: understand it before acting rashly.

"What do you want?" Kyouya was the first to speak. Despite his injuries, his voice rang strong. Stalling for time—prying. Trying to evaluate the situation based on response while she observed and tried to find a way out.

The man watched him for a second, arrogant, as if he were looking at nothing more than a struggling fly in all its futility. He approached slowly, taking measured, deliberate steps, before coming to a stop before the black-haired teenager and looking down on him, blinking calmly. For a moment, it seemed as if apprehension flickered through his eyes—before he lashed out and landed a kick on the boy's ribs, sending him pitching sideways onto his wounded shoulder, dotting the ground with fresh blood.

"_Back off, Tani asshole!_" Namie gnashed her teeth together and curled her hands into tight fists as Kyouya writhed a bit before regaining his bearings and leering up at the Tani nin, always displaying prime skills at containing his emotions, unlike her. She lunged, knees scraping across the ground, before an arm seized her neck and dragged her back, a hand tangling painfully into her ponytail.

Her outburst earned her the man's attention immediately—but, really, man? He was hardly a man. No older than twenty, she gathered. Even with his demeanor, he seemed like a bullying brat on a playground. They were all brats.

"He asked you a _question_. Pretty big of you, by the way, hitting an injured guy."

Fingers gripped her forehead and pushed her head back to an almost painful extent, forcing her to look upwards. The man studied her a moment, unimpressed. "Shinobi just get younger and younger, don't they? It's the young ones that don't know when to keep quiet." He paused long enough to draw his hand back and fold both behind his back. "We don't wish to kill Konoha shinobi—not yet. Even though you have no qualms killing my men."

Her mind snapped to the ANBU operative whose body clearly fell from the trees as soon as the four Tani nin jumped them—but…no. He _was_ dead, wasn't he? They hadn't confirmed it, too distracted by the offenders to challenge what had at the time appeared to be fact.

"But, fortunately enough for you, they were only left in critical condition. No deaths have actually come to pass." He turned his back to the two and waved a casual hand. "Put them with the others."

* * *

A storeroom. _Storeroom. _ Of all the places to hold hostages, the shinobi had chosen a dank, underground cellar filled with questionable burlap sacks and crates—and half a dozen prisoners. The leader's family, Namie realized. He hadn't been bound or gagged while surrounded by the enemies—a sure sign they held something over his head to keep him on his best behavior. One was a middle-aged woman—the wife—three were daughters of various ages—or possibly aids in the building—and two were males. All tied up and muzzled, all displaying surprise upon seeing two Konoha shinobi thrust into the room before the doors were shut and barred behind them, casting them in a dull light that filtered in from behind a stack of wooden boxes.

She didn't waste time breaking her bonds—the chains snapped under the force of her chakra and clanked to the dirt ground. "That was stupid. Really stupid. Are they that dumb?" A groan floating up from the floor met her ears and she quickly crouched beside her partner, freeing him from the bindings as well and helping him lean against the wall. Blood seeped between her fingers—she removed her hand from his shoulder and pressed her lips together, unable to gauge just how badly he was wounded in the bad lighting. But lighting, any lighting in this underground room, was good—it meant there was a window nearby. _'Too bad they didn't leave our weapons here with us, too.'_

"Really stupid," Kyouya seconded, massaging his ribs with a grimace as he attempted to straighten his posture. "What the hell did he mean the scroll was a fake?"

She pondered it a moment. "You _did_ see that ANBU die, didn't you…?" her voice trailed off with uncertainty as he eyed her with a squint that she wasn't completely sure wasn't just from pain.

"It—yeah. It happened pretty fast, but…what are you implying?"

"The Tani boss said no Konoha shinobi were killed. Yet. Or something. I think he was trying to talk big but he gave that away. It doesn't fit, if you claim he died."

His eyes scanned hers a moment, looking for a lie, an exaggeration, before he clicked his tongue and glanced away with a glare.

She rose to her feet and headed towards the other captives after leaving him with that information to chew over. They eyed her with a mixture of reluctance and hope as she stood before them, whimpering behind the strips of material tied across their mouths. The youngest boy flinched away from her. "I'm going to set you free. But you have to be _quiet_ and sit still or else the bad guys'll come back and then it's game over. Am I clear? I'm here to help, but you have to work with me."

They nodded furiously.

"Good. Now tell me, is there any alcohol down here? Medical supplies, maybe?"

The elder woman nodded and turned her head towards a stack of boxes, speaking after the gag was removed. "There." Namie nodded and moved on to the next hostage, then the next, until they were all free and rubbing their wrists, giving their mutters of thanks.

She pried the lid off a sealed crate and dug through the contents—silhouettes of bandages and a glass bottle of something antiseptic, along with medicine pellets of various and indeterminable uses. She scooped out an armful of it all and returned to Kyouya's side, dumping it next to him before heading towards the faint glow of light filtering into the room. There it was—the lattice slats of a small, rectangular window no bigger than a textbook indented the wall behind a wooden rack filled with books and random cardboard boxes. She reached into the shelves and emptied them of their belongings, shifted things around, until the window was no longer concealed and a steady beam of sunlight illuminated them, conveniently falling across her partner.

"Ain't that something?" Her lips stretched across her teeth in a small grin as she took a moment to examine the area beyond the window before returning to the Uchiha.

He didn't protest when she unzipped his vest and then the shirt he wore beneath it—but he didn't meet her eyes, either, and she knew why the instant his torso was bared. "Dammit, Kyouya, you criticize me so much and _you _don't even wear basic protective armor." She'd opened her mouth to say more, but a slight, nervous clearing of a throat behind her caught her attention. One of the daughters stood behind her, hands wringing together beneath the sleeves of her cream-colored yukata.

"I—I can help. No—let me. I'm quite skilled in first aid."

She was a pretty, willowy thing, maybe eighteen, with wide, earnest eyes and dark hair parted neatly in the center. Only slightly ruffled and out of sorts, still willing to offer help after what she'd been through.

Namie nodded and offered a few words of gratitude before returning once more to the hostages. "What happened here?"

One of the men, dressed in worker's garb and lacking any hair, spoke first. "They—they came out of nowhere. Threatened our lives and forced everyone to stay locked up inside their homes by—by hurting—"

"_Hurting?_" she cut in, eyes narrowed.

"They made an example out of Miyata-san when he tried to run," the young boy, close to her current age, piped up.

"His…his face was nearly crushed. He may _die_ from the wounds. I-I don't know where they took him." The leader's wife ran a hand across her damp eyes. "We knew Konoha shinobi would arrive with a delivery today—we hoped..." she gave a choked sob.

Namie closed her eyes a moment, steeling herself. "How many shinobi are here?"

The woman's pained eyes widened. "Perhaps a dozen."

"That's," her eyes drifted towards Kyouya and the young woman wrapping his shoulder, meeting his eyes, "…manageable." The number seemed grossly inaccurate considering they'd already seen that number and wounded almost half, but the captives didn't need to know that. "Are you sure that's all?"

"That's all."

"Thanks." Her eyes slowly roved across the room, from each slumped canvas sack to the rotted bottoms of wooden crates, then finally to the first-aid paraphernalia left forgotten in a pile. "We'll get out of this."

* * *

"How's your shoulder?" Namie asked from above the dark-haired teenager, eyeing the firmly-wrapped, slowly-staining bandages visible from beneath the torn fabric of the shirt he'd put back on as she, too, wrapped her own paltry wound, compressing it to ease the sting.

"Stiff. Hard to move. But I'll live." He gave a half-shrug before settling back against a crate.

"Good. I have a plan to get everyone out of here. Sort of," she spoke the last part quietly, making double sure none of the hostages were looking her way.

"What, bust up a wall or something so the Tani nin swarm in on us?"

"No. It's a little more elegant than that."

"You actually have something, don't you? I'm listening."

Namie sighed, crouching down and rummaging through the remaining medical supplies. "Of course I do. You're an Uchiha, after all, and I'm, well, me. Whatever that is. I'm working with what we have, here." Her focus briefly strayed to the two objects in her hand, the amber bottle of alcoholic-scented astringent and a few bandages she crammed into it, leaving a tail trailing over the glass mouth.

"Namie, you're not…"

"I totally am. It'll fit through that window, there, and when they hear it they'll go running."

"_Then_ what? Do you expect me to genjutsu the hell out of whoever crosses my path? That's about all I can do here."

"Sounds good to me. I'll kick the door down and we'll rush whoever's left behind to guard us and lead everyone somewhere safe. The enemy obviously doesn't want us or anyone here dead or they would have done it, so what's there to lose?"

"I hate that. It's reckless. And dumb. What about your hawks?"

"Not a good idea if they're watching the skies. They'll know it was us. If they were made for combat, maybe it would work…" She shrugged.

"Either way, we get a confrontation. You just want the element of surprise, right?"

"We can't just wait around here doing jack shit."

"Fine. Doesn't look like we have any better options." He pushed away from the wall and rose to his feet with some difficulty, picking up his flak jacket along the way. "Turns out this mission isn't as boring as you'd thought it would be, Namie."

A humorless grin rose to her lips. "Sure isn't. Now, how 'bout a light?"

He folded his hands together in a familiar seal.

The grounds outside the cellar window exploded in a burst of fire; as soon as footsteps rushed to the scene of shattered glass and remnants of flame among burnt cloth and extinguished it with a water-nature jutsu, enwrapping it all in smoke, the cellar door cracked off its hinges in splintered pieces and the escape party made their exit, directly into the line of sight of a flummoxed, gape-mouthed Tani nin who held a katana.

Kyouya's eyes glared scarlet and the man froze mid-slice as Namie swooped in and knocked his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling at the base of a wall as they hurried past him in one swift, smooth motion.

The rest rushed in soon after, aware the Molotov cocktail had only been a diversion, catching sight of the broken window after the smoke cleared. Another genjutsu; another dropped. The hallway was narrow—too narrow for more than two to attack at once.

Namie engaged the first, meeting them with an elbow to the throat and a knee to the gut; swiped one of the kunai from his holster as he fell and drove it into the chest of the next—ducked a kick and missed the hand that grabbed for her throat—threw her against a closed door and sent her crashing through it in a wave of splinters and dust.

He dropped just as easily from a stream of fire from Kyouya—flinched, screamed, backed away effectively drove his comrades back before one thought to counter him with a jet of water. Yet it was weak—doused by the same fire in a surge of steam that had them back at square one.

Namie pushed herself up, cursing, and paused when her hand met a familiar sheath.

The room she landed in held their weapons and supplies.

With a triumphant grin, she grabbed Kyouya's kunai holster, strapped it to her own leg and leapt back into the fray, throwing the teenager's katana to him. He caught it with a nod as Namie rounded on their opponents once more, armed with two kunai in each hand. The Tani nin were ready to counter—two slapped their hands together, ready to perform techniques, and one clutched a handful of shuriken.

Yet, just as they prepared to clash, a frigid voice, hard like steel, rang out, filling the corridor.

"Stop."

It came from behind them—behind the hostages.

Namie whipped her head around to see an unfamiliar shinobi holding the village leader's daughter against him, arm pressed tightly across her chest and tanto blade at her throat.

The kunai fell from her fingers.

"It's him," Kyouya rasped, the hand of his uninjured arm clenching tightly around his katana as his Sharingan eyes glared viciously at the man's familiar chakra signature and attire.

Namie raised her hands up in surrender. "…Let her go."

* * *

**Note:** I have no excuse for how long this took to get together. And I fell behind on review replies (but they are all just so, so lovely to read) so I'll pick 'em up again next time, sorry! But I have a few extras to add to Another Side (which you can also find and read on my tumblr) so hopefully this update and those make up for the wait. Updates might still be slow going.

But anyway, the ball is rolling. The war is coming up reeeeeeal soon. Like, it's a reality. It's a countdown. Konoha is about to step into the ring and things are gonna go to shit.

HUGE thank you to all you readers! See you next chapter.


	42. Thirty-eight

**Chapter Thirty-eight: No Hard Feelings, Loose Ends**

* * *

Namie vaguely registered the sound of Kyouya's katana clattering to the ground as she lowered her arms and took a tentative step forward—halting immediately when the man pressed the blade closer to the hostage's throat and drew forth a frightened sob.

"_Stop,_" the man repeated.

The woman's shoulders—her whole body—trembled. Her lip bled with the force she clamped her teeth down on it to hold back her cries and the expression on her face, eyes wide in hopeless panic, was one that read _help me, please, please help me don't let him kill me please do something…_!

She swallowed harshly. If it could be helped, she hoped to have the hostages out of harm's way before the heavy hitters showed up. With Kyouya injured—with a life dangling before them—and with no help on the way thanks to _this_ man, the whirling magnitude of the situation truly settled in.

The Tani nin said they didn't want to kill anyone. But as for their traitor, she didn't know what lengths he would go to or to what end. Seeping them all in this kind of danger was already a grave transgression. Knowingly acting against his village and allies was a death sentence. She could call his bluff, but if he slit that young woman's throat, _she_ would be the one responsible.

The others—the young woman's family, friends—stood still. Afraid to move—afraid to be what set off the man's killing trigger. Afraid to even breathe.

"Okay. Alright. Escape attempt over—no one's moving. Let her _go_."

The man was a stranger, to her. Unmarked. Unmasked. Nondescript, an otherwise unremarkable shinobi from their village aside from his ranking. One who passed under the radar clean and would ordinarily never be suspected—she could only go by Kyouya's declaration that this was their man and she trusted him completely. That, and, no matter who the man was, anyone who held a defenseless civilian hostage like that was her enemy. There was no way he was escaping this. She wouldn't let him.

Namie hoped Kyouya felt the same way, ready to act when an opportunity arose.

He was.

The moment the ANBU shinobi lowered his tantō blade—and the instant it was far enough away from the woman's throat, the Uchiha shot forward and cast a genjutsu to catch him off guard.

She followed, quick on his heels, and snatched the woman from the enemy's hold, pulling her back just as the man swayed on his feet—and broke through the genjutsu as if it were a flimsy sheet of candy glass. She didn't care—it bought time. And in that time she pushed the woman to Kyouya and blocked the man's tantō blade with a chakra-infused hand just before it sliced into her side.

His eyes widened—in the split-second gap of time it took for him to register the action and lack of injury, she gripped his wrist hard and twisted until it cracked, pried the weapon from his hand and tossed it to Kyouya as he rushed past the man and hurried the hostage group along.

He caught it and met her eyes—Sharingan spinning out, back to black—and she returned the gaze briefly with a hard stare of her own, telling him to go, to get out, to get them to safety no matter what.

She realized how easy it was for others to leave their comrades behind when their life wasn't priority when he turned away and continued on without a blink—and just how difficult a decision it was when they chose to stay.

A fist caught her in the stomach and she staggered back against a wall as the breath squeezed from her lungs and bile rose in her throat and into her mouth—she grabbed at the wall to propel herself forward, to launch a wild attack at the man, but a heel stomping into her fingers stopped her short.

'_No—'_

He twisted his heel, grinding into the bones, and she gnashed her teeth together as the pain buzzed through her nerves, shooting up her arm and biting in—she grabbed for the last kunai in her holster with abandon, to get in a stab, retaliation, but it wasn't there.

Steel dug into her skin.

A humorless laugh left her lips. He was smart enough to crush her fingers and keep her from using hand seals, and disarmed her before she even realized. Of course—ANBU were on another level. And this guy had been following them the whole time; had the chance to become well-acquainted with their fighting styles.

Whatever this situation was—it was too much for two chūnin thrown right into it. They were in over their heads. There was no one to rely on. No superiors' instructions. Ending up _dead_ for being so stupid was something she deserved.

…All thoughts that never crossed her mind.

There was only _anger_. Injustice. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Getting Tanigakure involved in this—whatever it was? Bringing them into their own _homeland_ and endangering innocents for god knows what? There was no insanity in his gaze. It was level. Logical. Calculated. Determined. This wasn't an impulsive betrayal.

"_Why?_" she demanded.

Blood trickled along the sharp edges of the kunai as she dug her hand into the weapon and pushed it away from her throat, releasing a flare of hardened chakra that warped its shape and shattered the point. With the same hand, she hurled an upward strike at the man's jaw, catching him on the chin as he tried to dodge. As he evaded, she reached up to yank off part of her sleeve and quickly wrapped it around her bleeding palm.

"You don't know a thing. You don't know what you're fighting for." He eyed her injury warily, wiping her smeared, transferred blood from his chin. He didn't have enough care to even try to humor her with thinking she was a danger to him and stood aloof, unthreatened.

Training never covered how to handle an errant comrade.

"I know _exactly_ what I'm fighting for. And so do you—no one can do this on a whim. And what you're doing—I don't know your reasons, or if it's the right thing, but you can't get away with it. You thought it'd be easy, with just two kids here, right? Like you got a lucky break?" She shifted her feet—felt something bump against her sandal. A scroll of a familiar color caught her eye, freed during the commotion and sent rolling conveniently close.

"No, not because of that. Even kids can be monsters on the battlefield. You two were just unlucky."

"_What_ the hell is so damn important that you'd betray your village—and entire country?" She didn't expect him to drop his guard and keep talking, not with his training. But she had to buy time and find a break—enough time to grab that scroll.

"…No hard feelings."

The man's hands—despite the broken wrist—slowly came together in a single seal. He blinked—kept his eyes closed for a moment, and she took the instant to kick open the scroll and crouch down, bloody hand pressing down.

When he opened his eyes, alerted by the sound of her moving, they met with the head of a mallet that swung down on him, missing by a scant distance as he shifted out of harm's way, and cracked against the ground.

Namie gripped the weapon with a single, shaking hand, gritting her teeth as blood stained the wooden surface.

If he'd been so steeled to kill his fellow shinobi, he wouldn't make her wait.

* * *

The escape went off without a hitch. Kyouya led the hostage group safely outside and checked that the way was clear—and it was. Strangely so. He expected resistance. Fighting. Even just one enemy, perhaps. Yet there was no one.

"Is there a safe place you can go to from here?" he asked the village leader's wife as one of her daughters supported her, both with shaking legs, as they ambled forward.

"There is. We have a storm shelter. We can reach it easily from here, everyone in our family knows of it. But—my husband. Where is my husband? What will they do to him?"

"Will they—have they already killed him?" one of the men asked.

"N—I don't…I can't tell you that. I'll go find him. I'll bring him…to you." He paused, words halting, as he struggled through the effort to refrain from making promises he wasn't sure he could keep. Being as tactful as possible—while remaining honest—was the best way to handle this. His eyes briefly scanned the area once again, checking rooftops, nooks and crannies of alleyways, and windows. Something caught his eye—he couldn't place it, but something was off.

The slip of a shoe against the rough wide of a building and a shadow slipping away revealed it.

The nerves in his shoulder screamed as he launched towards the escaping shinobi and stabbed the blade deep in the man's shoulder, pinning him against the wall, keeping him in place. He cried out—squirmed—reached for the blade in his flesh but froze in terror when red eyes filled his vision.

Kyouya wasn't using genjutsu, wasn't moving—the sight of the Sharingan alone was enough to make any enemy think twice. He'd never been so glad for his genes before then.

And the fact that this enemy was fleeing meant the others surely were.

Their escape upset the plan and scared the foreign nin away.

"Where is the village leader?" He demanded, digging the blade further in, blood seeping through the man's sleeve, running down his arm.

The man grit his teeth, eyes wide, bugging out in pain and desperation, knowing he was as good as dead—the mouse in the cat's paw, moving ever closer to the maw—and shook his head, neck stretching, spit flying as he spoke rapidly. "In—in his office! He's in the same place! We haven't moved him!"

Kyouya slid the blade in a jerking arc from the man's shoulder to his throat and stepped back as the body dropped. He regarded him a brief moment before snagging his forehead protector and stowed it away before returning to the village leader's family, only feeling a faint sting at the fear in their eyes. Being a cold-blooded killer was never easy.

Even if the fucker deserved it.

His throat felt like sand—he swallowed dryly and evened his breathing, lips set in a grim line. "I'll go get your leader. Get to the shelter. Quickly." Wordlessly, he handed the tantō over to the nearest man, who took it with hands that trembled only a moment before stilling, resolute.

He nodded before taking off in the direction they'd come from.

* * *

The village leader was indeed in the same place, still tied up and pushed aside in the corner. Whatever the Tanigakure nin and traitor intended to do with this man was far from negotiation—it was control through fear and coercion. But was quickly abandoned.

He knelt and untied the elder, who immediately bombarded him with questions when he pulled the fabric gag from his own mouth and pushed himself to his feet. "Where is my family? My daughters? My son?"

"They're safe. Somewhere you should be able to find them."

"Oh, thank the gods…the men, they—as soon as they heard the explosion, they fled. But the things they said—I fear for my small village. And…for this country."

Kyouya tensed. Hands clenched into fists. "They were only trying to scare you. To keep you quiet. They wouldn't have talked about important things around you unless they were going to kill you." Unless they were just that stupid, he tacked on mentally. If things fell apart this easily, they may just be. "We have to go. I'll take you to your family."

And then, he'd go back and find Namie.

Hopefully alive.

* * *

"Our scroll was a fake. Where's the real one?"

Neither moved. Namie knew if she shifted her weapon even a centimeter, the man would attack. As it was, they were in a deadlock.

"In safe hands."

He tone was irritating in its precision. Matter-of-fact. Clinical.

"You gave it to them, didn't you? What was in it? Just what was _so_ important?"

He gave no response. His foot connected with her side, slipping through her guard just a second too fast as she dropped her mallet and tried to block. The force of the strike sent her buckling, crashing to the floor. But he was still _hesitating._ Toying with her. Not locked into his decision to kill her because—because of what? Regret? Remorse? Seeking a way to reverse the damage he'd already dealt?

The edge of Kyouya's katana blade pressed into her skin as she leaned on her unbroken hand, realizing she'd nearly landed on it. She jerked her head up as the man approached, expressionless.

"What led you to _this?_ You didn't have to do this!"

"To think another war would happen so soon. You wouldn't understand—you haven't fought in one before. It isn't _just_ about the combat. It isn't _just_ about winning."

"What does that mean!?"

"Sometimes it's personal."

"Of _course_ it's personal! An attack on our country is fucking personal to everyone!"

A brief flicker of—something—passed through his eyes. The skin of his eyelids crinkled faintly. His lips dropped into a frown.

"And so the smaller lands—the ones that border the strong—are left to suffer again. The poor. The elderly. Families. Children. Trade routes shift to accommodate military strength and what becomes of those whose lifelines are ripped away and rearranged?" He took a breath, emotionless façade sinking away.

The motive blindsided Namie. Of course—the one thing anyone would go to any lengths for—family. He was doing this for them. Selling confidential trade routes in exchange for securing comfortable living situations for his loved ones. And he was telling her this, because…because he would kill her. Telling her now didn't matter. It was a confession, perhaps, to ease the guilt on his soul, to transfer it so she would take it with her to the grave.

"You don't have to do this," she tried to control her tone as she repeated the words, but her voice shook anyway. She wanted to say more, to sway him away from it so he would just _get away_, go, and take his lapse in judgment with him, but her words didn't reach him. Nothing she said could change the path he'd chosen.

She could see it all unfolding in his eyes. Full of life, full of love, madness, lost to doing anything, _anything, _even becoming a traitor, a murderer, to save the ones he loved.

She understood. She _understood._ It could just as well be her in this man's place, on the opposite side of the sword.

One of them was going to die.

He moved slowly, methodically, working out the hand seals with painful accuracy, and the cool steel tore into her skin once again as she gripped Kyouya's katana and lunged forward, thrusting it directly into the man's chest with all her strength focused into the hand holding it, through his breastbone, into his heart—

—and ripping it back out.

It clattered to the ground, blood dripping from its blade, splattering the ground, as she sank back against the wall, sliding down to the floor, breathing ragged.

The ANBU traitor's body hit the opposite wall as he staggered, twitching, fingers scraping the wooden surface, as wheezing breaths left his lips—and a rattling laugh followed. As if he were her mirror image, his body slowly slid to the ground, crumpling, and his eyes filled with tears.

She didn't realize her own were welling with moisture until heavy tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away—her eyes were glued to the man's form. She watched as he closed his eyes. As his chest heaved. As blood stained his shirt black. As his head sank towards his chest and his body stilled. As the blood continued to flow, pooling below him.

She wasn't stupid enough to think this was her victory.

She didn't know how long she sat there, watching, burning the sight into her eyes.

There was no sadness for this man, but for the future.

What he'd done—what he'd given to Tanigakure, what he'd taken from Konoha—was an undeniable declaration of war. The Hokage couldn't just sweep something like this back under the rug and pretend they still had time. Things piled up and piled up and eventually they had to topple down.

* * *

The bitter stench of blood overwhelmed Kyouya's nose as he retraced his steps along their escape route through the hallways, praying each time he turned a corner that his teammate's body wouldn't greet him.

When he neared the hallway where he'd left her, he almost stopped. Almost had to force himself to keep moving, to see what had become of the fight—who lost. Who won. No, there were no winners, here. No victories. Only the one who was struck down first.

He left her behind without a second thought.

It should have been a difficult choice—because even though it was drilled into their heads to put the mission first, to prioritize civilian lives connected to it, it couldn't possibly be easy leaving a comrade to face someone more skilled, to face against death itself. No one in their right minds would be able to bail out like it was nothing.

…And yet he was _glad_ she'd been the one to stay.

Not because he trusted her—not because he felt he could rely on her to handle the enemy.

Because he was a coward.

An Uchiha—for all the pride he held on his shoulders—was afraid. Even now, even as a chūnin. Even with his Sharingan.

What had they been thinking? A Konoha ANBU shinobi outmatched them, even standing together. But still, he should have stayed, should have helped out a moment longer, given them _both_ time to run, to send for backup—

He tried not to blame himself. Neither could have prepared themselves for a comrade's betrayal and such a messed up mission—it was supposed to be _easy._ Taking down a few bandits—what he was used to—not an ANBU from their home. Not foreign nin.

Shame flooded him. He could perform so well within the confines of his village, within what he _expected_, yet the moment things went awry he lost confidence. This was real shinobi-to-shinobi combat where death was a tangible possibility and he'd gratefully run away in the thick of it.

And if he found Namie dead?

What would he tell _Obito_? The dumb brat adored her and blabbered on about her anytime he caught Kyouya in a free moment even if he pretended not to listen (one of three common names that left the kid's mouth, usually combat-focused, and the word "cool" popped up more times than he cared to remember, but it would always be a word that soured in his ears if she wasn't alive). He'd be crushed.

When he turned the final corner, he saw her standing. His steps slowed.

He barely recognized her. Only a few minutes had passed, but something about her had changed. An unfamiliar glint in the eyes, the way she stood—something small, infinitesimal, that broke the balance and threw everything off.

Then, he saw the body.

His tongue darted out briefly to wet his dried, chapped lips and he returned his gaze to the blonde, watching as she carefully cradled a scroll covered in bloody handprints and his katana in her arms, one hand hanging uselessly, swollen.

It hit him—she killed someone who should have been their comrade. That was bound to fuck anyone up.

How in the hell did something that was supposed to be _easy_ go to shit so fast?

"Namie?" He hated how quiet his voice was, how unsure, reflecting regrets from every time he'd been an asshole, every time he'd bickered in all the times in the past that led up to this because he wasn't sure if he could ever make up for it after this.

She blinked—it seemed to last, linger on for more than just a millisecond, but when she opened her eyes they were focused. Normal. "Everyone's fine, then?"

He nodded slowly, musing over how she didn't sound any different. Same as always. Unaffected…? No, burying it. Trying to hide the way her body trembled. He willed his own shaking arms to still and approached. "They're safe. The village leader and his family."

"Let's gather our supplies, then. Here." She looked down at his katana and then at him emphatically and he didn't waste time reclaiming his weapon.

He didn't pay any mind to the blood staining the blade.

"…He let me do it," she spoke up suddenly, as he moved past her and picked his way through the broken door to the room that held their weapon packs. He didn't turn to face her and focused on picking up the two bags, slipping hers over his uninjured side before digging through his own to locate medical salve and bandages. He stopped when he remembered the supplies stored in the room they'd been held captive.

"How the hell did this all happen…?" She met his eyes as he returned to the hall. Both pointedly ignored the body. It would have been easier to leave, to put walls between them, but it didn't seem right to leave the man, either.

"It doesn't matter. It's over."

"Over?"

"The Tani nin ran. They're long gone."

She nodded, humming in acknowledgement. "You're bleeding again, by the way. Looks pretty bad."

"Looks worse than it is. You, on the other hand..." He eyed her bleeding palm and swelling hand pointedly.

"Right. I need to borrow your hand."

"My—?"

"The summoning jutsu—you know it, right? I need to send a hawk. We need...we need to report this."

Wordlessly, he held out his hand and joined it with hers, reciting the hand seals slowly and deliberately, and she pressed her injured hand to the ground.

"_Goldilocks!_ You're okay—" A strangled caw left the tawny hawk's beak as she assessed the damage of her summoner.

Namie cut her off before she could fret. "Hisami. Please take this message to the Hokage: the mission in Ogata failed. There was a traitor. A shinobi's dead. We need support for cleanup. And a medic."

The hawk nodded grimly, immaculately recording and recoding the information in her mind. "I'll fly fast."

Their eyes followed the avian as she swooped out the nearest window and took to the sky, taking with her their worry but not quite able to leave them with a sense of peace.

"This would have happened even if it wasn't us."

Namie looked over to meet her partner's eyes and her shoulder tensed. "If it was anyone else, the plan might have worked. What do you think ANBU-san would have done? Faked his death to get the two shinobi under his watch to drop their guard—they'd get captured—end up dead, thanks to him—then he'd complete his end of the deal and return to Konoha, abuse his position and feed some bullshit story to his superiors about how the couriers were overwhelmed by bandits along the way."

"He would have killed us."

She fell silent. Let her gaze wander to the fallen ANBU. "…But he didn't."

* * *

In the aftermath of the mission when it came to light that one of their own betrayed them, this fact was to be kept strictly confidential and everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Namie and Kyouya gave their accounts of the event separately and whatever became of it was lost to them.

Namie suspected the file was buried. After Sakumo's situation, having an ANBU shinobi, one of the right-hand men of the Hokage himself, defecting would be beyond damaging when the country was teetering on the edge of war. If it had been any other enemy they faced, and if they reached the same outcome of failure and compromised secrets, she suspected they would be held to the same backlash the White Fang faced. That she came out of such a scandal unscathed stung.

She hated herself, just a little.

Reports of the other country's actions filtered in, slowly, secretly, mingled in with everyday gossip, to the point where Konoha's participation was anticipated by everyone. It was difficult to relax—but people tried. Forced their everyday lives, their cheer—all while awaiting the inevitable.

Most shinobi realized it was a time to treasure the current peace because it would soon be ripped away.

* * *

it was almost strange, how things changed.

As the years passed, as Namie got older, so, too, did her brother. It was hard to realize at first, being so near to him, but he was beginning to resemble the accomplished man she knew from fiction.

It was easier to notice how quickly his and Kushina's relationship progressed.

They were young adults, now—young adults in love who wanted to live together.

It was only natural that the day came when Minato moved out of the Namikaze home.

When he announced the decision, Namie couldn't help but wonder if the arrangement came about because of Kakashi's current living situation that looked to be a little more permanent with each passing day. Their home was a comfortable fit with three, but four—and five, with Kushina's constant house visits—made for quite the crowd. It presented them with the perfect opportunity to buy their own flat and take the next step in their lives.

It was another tick in the clock that pushed them all closer to the inevitable.

But it was a joyous occasion and a fine, fitting Spring day. Their schedules all lined up in a rare event—everyone was present to help with the move. Even Kakashi.

"Can you put that down over there, Namie?" Minato asked as he passed through the threshold carrying two stacked cardboard boxes marked "KITCHEN" in bold characters. At first he was reluctant to ask for her help, seeing the cast clinging to her mending hand, but she didn't let the injury hold her back. When he tried to baby her, she insisted on carrying at least one box at a time and he grudgingly accepted it, knowing it was useless to dissuade her when she set her mind to it.

"Sure, sure." The two boxes she held were marked with labels she couldn't see, but when her brother gestured to the empty living room with his chin, she set them down in the corner beside the few that were already gathered against the wall, clapping the box dust carefully from her hands as she looked around the new space.

The modern flat was small. Clean—thanks to the couple spending an entire day clearing out the junk and dusting the place down, leaving not a speck of grime behind—and welcoming. Bright, with cream-colored walls and pine floors, in a layout similar to the Namikaze home, though the entrance opened to the living area with the kitchen at the back, and the long hallway was between the bedrooms and bathroom. It was cluttered with boxes, now, but she was sure it would become a charming home to suit the both of them, where they would share dinners and evenings together, and eventually raise a family…

She tried to picture a small blond child toddling about across the floors but couldn't.

That thought shocked her from her dreamy reverie at the same time something bumped against the wall with a muffled thump. Her gaze snapped towards the threshold just in time to see Kakashi carrying four—why _four_, the show-off—boxes into the room and fighting a losing battle in keeping the stack properly balanced.

"Wait—!"

"_Don't_—"

Ignoring his warning that overlapped her cry, she rushed forward and made to catch the top box that teetered and dropped over the edge, but her outstretched fingers barely scraped the side and it crashed to the ground with a heavy thump.

She waited a moment, eyes squeezed shut as she anticipated the sound of shattered ceramics or glass, but none came. Only an irritated sigh filled the air and she opened one eye to glance at the boy, who narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you thinking, with your hand like that? Why are you even helping?"

"What—it's not that bad. It doesn't even hurt. Just—if you're _worried_, you can say so, alright?"

"What happened? Is everyone alright?" Taji was the first to react to hearing Namie's shout and the crash and rushed right in behind Kakashi, while Minato fumbled with the heavy, breakable objects in the kitchen and stumbled onto the scene as well.

Namie flashed them a quick grin before swiftly picking up the fallen box and setting it atop Kakashi's stack once again, heavily. "Nothing, nothing. Everything's fine."

"I'm comin' in! Make way, 'ttebane!" Just as Namie finished speaking, Kushina burst through the doorway carrying a ridiculous amount of boxes that would have flattened them if they hadn't all scrambled to give her room. She set them all down with a heavy_ boom_ that surely entertained and terrified their downstairs neighbors and straightened up, drawing the back of her hand across her sweaty brow. "Phew. That's the last of 'em. Now comes the fun part! Who's ready to unpack?"

Amazing. Just amazing. The girl was still ready and raring to go even after carrying that heavy load. Namie could only sigh, even if she was impressed.

"How about a break? It's well past lunch time," Taji suggested, looking to the kitchen where a lone picnic basket sat on the unfurnished counter.

Kakashi glanced towards the clock—but paused when he realized there was no clock hanging on the wall in this unfamiliar living area. "I have somewhere to be. I'll be home later." He gave them all a brief glance before heading to the door.

"Oh—thanks for the help, Kakashi-kun..." Minato offered up, trailing off as the boy stepped onto the landing before leaping over the edge of the railing and disappearing.

"He's probably meeting another new team," Namie provided quietly, watching the open doorway without blinking, missing the knowing look Minato and Kushina traded, but its meaning would be clear to her regardless.

It was certainly good that he was well enough to pick up where he'd left off and get back into the swing of things, but she knew it wouldn't stick. Not until he gained placement on her brother's first genin team. No one could handle that kid except Obito and Rin, and Minato was the glue that held them together.

It would happen soon.

* * *

'_If you're worried, you can say so?'_ Kakashi rolled his eyes inwardly at the blonde's face he'd conjured up mentally beside the speech bubble repeating the words. He shouldn't _need_ to say it. That girl was more trouble than she was worth. Always worrying about others, like a nagging sister, like a _mom_, and never stopping to consider that she should just stop and let herself heal instead of pretend there was nothing wrong.

But…maybe she was right. It wouldn't make an impact if he didn't spell it out for her, because even if she picked up on the intent, she would ignore it unless she heard the words clearly. Because that's what she wanted him to say—or…what she needed to hear.

He shook the thought from his head. He'd deal with that later, after he met with the next genin group on the list which he was certain would be another strikeout.

Third time's the charm, they say—only, he didn't believe it. And he didn't _want_ it. Why would he, when his other teammate was already a chūnin? Compared to all of these other teams that tried to mesh with him, he was overqualified. It just…it seemed like he always missed his chance to take the exam. Thanks to the end of Team One and—

His father told him he was ready, several times—yet again, during that time, it was difficult to find placement on a team.

Maybe Team One, as messy as it was, but at least they found a way to _work_, had been the only place for him.

The sound of a cry—a _familiar_, obnoxious squawk—broke him from his doubt and he turned his head just in time to see a spiky-haired Uchiha tumble down from a building wall and land in an open trash can that toppled over with his weight and dumped him onto the ground.

Kakashi stopped long enough to see a worried brunette girl—Nohara Rin, was it?—rush to his side, flailing her hands and assessing the damage before chiding him for recklessness.

Normally, he wouldn't stop. But anything would be a welcome distraction at this point, and that kid was always quick to rile up and entertain, so he stayed.

"Ah, crap! I really thought I had it that time!" Obito yelled as he fixed his skewed goggles and wiped a smudge of garbage from the orange lens before leaning back on his hands and huffing in defeat.

"You nearly did! I saw. You climbed a little higher than last time," Rin assured, brow creased in sympathy as she eyed the garbage and reached for her handkerchief.

Kakashi hopped down from the eaves and landed beside the two, crossing his arms. "_What_ are you doing?"

"What—what are _you_ doing?" the other boy countered, hopping back onto his feet and swiping the back of his hand across his cheek—further smearing whatever junk he fell in.

"You stink." He made a show of pinching his nose through his mask and narrowing his eyes.

Rin stood as well, smoothing her skirt and holding her hands up, trying to ease the situation before it sparked, but seeing Obito puff up after hearing that comment proved it would be moot. She tried changing the subject instead and offered a sweet smile. "Oh, Kakashi-kun, we were just practicing for the graduation test. What brings you here?"

"Just passing by. Is it that time of year already?"

"Yeah! We're gonna be certified genin soon!"

"I'm not so sure about you."

"_What was that?!_"

"Now, now, you two…"

"I'm just glad we won't have to be on a team with _you_," Obito said, sticking out his tongue. "And I'm totally gonna pass! Namie-senpai's been helping us out a little. Rin-chan can already use her chakra to walk on stuff and I'm—uhh, it's a work in progress."

"Isn't the graduation test always a clone technique, though?"

"We're _getting_ to that, sheesh! It's better to be balanced all-around because it, uh, helps…what did she say again…"

"Being balanced in chakra control helps all studies," Rin provided gently.

He shrugged. She sure never said that in their genin training, but it wasn't wrong.

Rin looked over to Kakashi curiously as Obito busied himself picking a blackened banana peel off his shoulder that he finally noticed. "What's it like being part of a genin team, Kakashi-kun?"

The question caught him off guard—but, really, he should have seen it coming. But a blank blocked his mind and he couldn't—didn't want to—form a proper answer. Especially when both of the kids' eyes were locked on him, expectant. "Sorry, I have to get going."

He didn't really have anything positive to say about it, anyway.

* * *

Namie busied herself with spreading a picnic blanket across the living room floor while the others prepared lunch in the kitchen. If the table wasn't full of boxes, if things were actually unpacked, this wouldn't be necessary, but it was…cute. A little eccentric, but oh-so fitting for the newly-dubbed Uzumaki-Namikaze home.

She gave a start when a visitor appeared, knocking on the doorframe.

Everyone looked over to see a smiling teenager that tended to wander in and away like a stray cat standing with her hands folded behind her back, politely remaining outside instead of stepping into the home, in general behaving the most respectfully she'd ever cared to and Namie couldn't help but inwardly roll her eyes. When she registered the fact that the girl wasn't wearing her usual clothes and was instead clad in a pale green yukata tied with a maroon obi, she realized what day it was.

"So sorry to interrupt, but me and Namie-chan have somewhere to be. Mind if I take her away?" Miho asked.

"Not at all. We can handle it from here." Minato spoke up as Kushina turned to object.

"What? Come on, _both_ kids are bailin' out? Minato's right, we can handle it, but…Namie, you owe me big time, _dattebane!_"

Taji grinned wryly. "I'll be gone later, Namie—when you get home, can you let Kakashi-kun know there are leftovers in the fridge?"

Just a little, she wished any one of them would have protested a little more, especially when she had to look at that shit-eating grin plastered to the Nara girl's face. But all she was left with were pleasant goodbyes and small requests she had no choice but to oblige.

Miho swung her arms, ever upbeat, as the two walked through the streets.

"Isn't it a little early?" Namie complained, watching the unusually chipper brunette walk ahead as she straggled behind a few steps, unwilling to match her pace.

"Early? The festival lasts all day. Nothing amazing happens until evening, but observing everyone can be entertaining. Besides, you need to change into a yukata. I have one you can borrow, because I seem to recall you don't own one." She tutted. "Have you never been to a festival in Konoha? For shame."

"I _have_. The Uchiha had one in Autumn. Obito-kun invited me. But it was short notice and I don't really…wearing stuff like that is a little…" She shrugged. The culture still hadn't assimilated and casual clothes fit better. That, and the only other festival she'd even sort-of been to wasn't the most fortunate of events since she'd been too preoccupied trying to find Kushina.

"Dressing up is only the _best part_. What else is there?"

"I'm not going just to _dress up_, Miho."

The girl came to a stop, geta clacking on the ground as she set both feet firmly down and turned her head to eye the girl over her shoulder, eyes narrowed shrewdly, smile ever-present on her lips.

"…Of course I know that. You did mention the Sarutobi clan before—you're going to look for your genin teacher, yes?"

Namie nodded, unbroken hand clenching into a fist at her side.

Miho gave a hum of interest as she crossed her arms. "Can I ask why?"

"Because…I'm worried. I need to see him." Saying it out loud wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be. When she heard herself say it, it came off as nosey more than anything, pushing too far, perhaps, but she'd already come this far.

"I see—no, I don't. I can't even remember _my_ genin teacher's name half the time. I don't understand your drive, but to see you so determined, this must be important to you."

"It is."

"Is this little drama what they call a 'schoolgirl crush?'" A faux-innocent grin crossed her lips.

"No. Don't be an idiot. It's closure."

Miho's gleeful, teasing expression deflated into indifference at the blonde's chilled, no-nonsense words. "Well, either way, won't you humor me and dress up in a yukata for the occasion?" The smile returned as she clasped both hands in front of her chest, mockingly pleading.

"Absolutely not."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"I'll pay for everything?"

"…Fine."

In hindsight, she realized she'd been duped because everything at the festival was free.

* * *

The yukata was stuffy.

Namie hated how it wrapped around her legs, and the way it bunched up around her waist—thanks to it being just slightly too long since Miho was taller. The sleeves were a pain to get used to, the obi was a little too tight thanks, again, to Miho's enthusiasm—and it was an ugly checkered gold color that matched her hair and completely washed her out. Overall, it wasn't pleasant, but she wouldn't deny there was a certain elegance to it all.

"Keep pulling at that obi and it may come undone. And then? It'll fall off and you'll gain a reputation as an exhibitionist," the girl warned as she flashed a grin towards Namie, toting a candy-coated apple in each hand, both enthusiastically chewed into.

Miho had a ridiculous appetite and watching her snatching up handfuls of treats and stuffing them into her face was enough to put her off of her own. But a bagged goldfish hung from her wrist and a paper fan poked out from her obi as little tells of her enjoyment of the event.

Of course, she didn't forget her original objective. She didn't expect to just see Hiroto mingling with the crowd, but it was difficult to break away and start a search when the Nara girl dragged her around to consecutive booths and left no time for anything else. Occasionally she pointed out certain clan members, accompanied by sly gossip commentary. Namie barely listened, didn't care to, but she'd never seen the oddball so excited before and she had to wonder if the festival season was responsible.

Surely it wasn't because of _her_—unless the girl was just that damn lonely. She didn't ever think to see her as more than a stray she'd sort of taken in to keep out of trouble and try to keep on the right path, but could it be…?

Were they _friends? _Was she even capable of that?

But just as she looked over to ask the girl what she thought, she realized she was alone. Miho had silently wandered off, lost in the crowd.

All the better.

She glanced around once more, to make sure the girl hadn't just crouched down beside a goldfish scooping game, before setting off.

She didn't get far.

"Namie-chan? Fancy seeing you here!"

Namie turned to see a familiar face—and two not-so-familiar faces. All wearing matching yukata, down to the obi pattern.

Yamanaka Inori, holding a young child on his shoulders, stood beside a willowy woman with auburn hair and kind eyes, all smiling in unison, the picture of happiness. His wife and son; she recognized them from a family photo she'd once seen on his desk.

"Oh, you haven't met, have you? This is my wife, Chinatsu, and our son, Yuu."

Namie nodded politely, hiding a shaky grin and a laugh. Who knew he was the type of guy to get all matchy-matchy with coordinated family outfits? Somehow, she wasn't surprised. (But she was certainly one to talk, because her yukata was the exact same color as Miho's.)

"Papa, wanna go play that!" Yuu cried out, pointing wildly to one of the children's games nearby—at least, that's what she thought he said. It was difficult understanding toddlers sometimes.

Either way, Chinatsu spoke up and held her arms out to their son. "I'll take him. Come on, Yuu-chan, you like games, don't you?" Namie watched as Inori winced while getting his hair pulled during the transfer until his shoulders were free of the child and he was chatting animatedly to his mother.

"He's an energetic kid," Inori sighed, rubbing at his head, but there was a fond smile on his face. After his family wandered away and out of sight, he turned his attention back to Namie. "Do I even need to ask why you're here?"

"What makes you think I'm not just here for the festivities?"

"Something tells me that isn't it."

"Oh, really? Then what do you think it is?"

Inori methodically folded his hands into his yukata sleeves and hummed, glancing away, looking a little troubled. "…I would have told you, you know. But Hiro…" he trailed off, silent. It didn't last—she had a feeling it was just an annoying act—he bounced back, pensive expression gone, placid smile in place. "Well, if _I _were looking for him, I'd go to a certain garden, down the street to your left there. Right outside a big house… I don't know. Maybe I'd see him there. It's a gamble."

She barely stopped to thank the man before taking off.

* * *

Namie didn't bother concealing her footsteps as she made her way between the hedges, eyes trailing after a clan servant until they disappeared around the corner after checking in on Hiroto and half-heartedly trying to convince him to attend the festival.

He was here. He was really _here_ and it was a strange sight after so long—but he was here.

He knew she was there, but he didn't look up. Probably, for him, this was a long time coming. Especially with the way their last conversation turned out.

"Hiroto-s—" Her voice caught. He was no longer her teacher. Calling him "sensei" felt insensitive. Wrong. A little cruel.

"Hiroto-san," she corrected.

But god did that sound cold. Distant.

Her hands balled into fists at her side as she stepped out of the shrubbery and made her presence fully known. Not a dramatic entrance—not the dramatic entrance she'd daydreamed about, not prefaced by a pissed-off tirade she'd recited mentally so many times before.

It was sudden and underwhelming.

And a little disappointing.

"I'm surprised it took you this long, Namie-chan." He still didn't look her way as he finally spoke. His voice didn't sound the same—once sharp and strong, now dull as a worn knife. Tired. "And don't call me that. Just 'Hiroto' is fine now."

"Then—don't call me _'_Namie-_chan.'_"

"Fair enough."

Now that she was here—now that he was here—all of what she wanted to say fled from the tip of her tongue. Speaking was awkward. Like, maybe she really shouldn't be here at all and it was a stupid idea, tracking him down, making him remember, when he looked like this, in such a sorry, jaded state—

"You should sit down."

No, of course that was wrong. He was still there—she could still talk to him. Despite everything, they were part of the same team once. This time, he wouldn't turn her away.

"No. I'll stand. I'm fine." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg, stubborn.

He shrugged. "How is Kakashi doing?"

"...Better. He'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

He nodded. It was almost mechanical.

"And? How are you doing, Namie?"

"That's what I came here to ask _you_. Don't worry about me."

"If I said the same thing, this would be a short conversation."

Namie heaved a world-weary sigh, shoulders drooping. "...Being a chūnin kinda sucks. I knew I would have to work hard, but it's annoying how working my way up is some ladder-climbing game."

"Wars come in handy for that. It's a quick way to make a name for yourself." There was facetious sarcasm in his tone to match her flippant reply, but when her surprised eyes darted to his, he nearly flinched back.

"It's soon, huh?" Her voice shook.

He didn't reply.

"You know…I think I'll sit down after all." Not just because her knees shook.

He remained silent as she approached the porch and sat on its edge, leaning one shoulder against a painted support column, but not quite able to relax. Her eyes drifted to the nearby koi pond and then flicked down to the little bagged koi hanging from her wrist.

He wouldn't be surprised if she opened the bag and dumped the creature out, but she did nothing but toy with the string that tied it.

Then, she continued.

"…Sometimes I hate this. But it's not like I can quit. I can't. I just can't. There's still so much to do." _Because of Minato. Because of Kushina. Because of Naruto. Because of Kakashi. Because of—_

"And I don't _want_ to quit."

_Even if it means I have to kill and kill and kill, enemies and comrades, because of the things that have to be done, because of the things _they_ have to do, because of what _I_ have to do—_

She wanted to cry. Like the first time she killed an enemy and let the panic take over. But she couldn't. She'd grown too much for that (Had she? Had she really?). So she bit her lip and didn't. Even if it was something she could never take back, another black strike on her soul. One for each person she'd struck down. They were small, all oh so small, but they added up.

"A long time ago, I thought the same thing."

"You? No way." Not him, not Mister Duty-Driven Hardass. He wasn't talking about the day he was forced to give it all up, she knew. Otherwise he would have said so. This was something else.

"…I had an older sister once."

_Once._

That single word shook her world like thunder.

"She died on the front lines."

"…What was her name?"

"Konohana."

And suddenly—suddenly, everything clicked. A blurred lens focused.

Sarutobi Hiroto was her future—what she would be when all was said and done if she didn't keep going, keep moving forward, keep _trying._

What she feared she'd be.

What she swore she'd never be.

Silence settled between them for some time. Chattering voices and laughter floated up from the festival, crickets chirping, leaves rustling in the wind, koi splashing in the pond.

At length, he spoke. "I didn't want to quit. But this is how things are. And on the bright side, administration work isn't so bad."

"…You hate it, don't you?"

For the first time, he smiled. If only slightly.

It was enough to let her know he was still hanging on, maybe a shadow of his former self, but still _there._

Namie rose to her feet just as a burst of sparks erupted in the sky, crackling among the stars.

She watched the fireworks explode above, one after the other, washing them in color. The water-filled bag containing her prize fish bounced against her leg and she looked down, thoughtful, and with a flick of her wrist, the swipe of a hidden kunai, the bag split open and spilled the small koi fish out in a cascade into the pond at her feet. "Look after it for me, okay?"

In other words, now that she'd found him, she would be back.

Provided she could.

At the end of Spring, Konoha entered the Third War.


End file.

Naruto, Drama, Hurt-Comfort