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Chapter Text

All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.

— Article 1 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

There’s something terrifying about being launched into the unknown, whether it’s a country, a relationship, or even a new café. Her problems however, lay within a much bigger area.

Reincarnation was one thing, but this? This... world, this society, this story?

Her heart pounds at the thought of it, at her role and what she has to do. She is the main character in a story that glorified a violent system in an extremely open way. Her original world wasn’t pure and all good either of course, she wouldn’t have been a human rights lawyer if it was. But it was... more stable. Less morally reprehensible?

If it were any other world, she thinks she could handle it, but the Shinobi world? In fanfiction, when she still read it daily before the duties of responsibility caught up to her, people only focused on the ninja aspect, on the killing and murder and morality, and while she’s concerned about that, looking at the way society is built here makes her want to vomit.

She studied to be a lawyer in her old world, but she had dabbled in history as a hobby. And everything in this world seemed to reflect the same twisted sort of madness her old history used to have as well. Violence was the currency here, with leaders and puppet masters pulling the strings to conduct pointless wars. She had seen the effects of pointless wars in her old world, had witnessed how often countries would tug and pull smaller societies to their whims solely for greed and gain. But at least she could pretend there. She could try to fight against the system, no matter how small it was.

Here, doing so means certain death.

There’s no reason to change a system that people are used to, that people are taught not to question or stray away from. Konoha may be the ‘nice’ village, but it follows the same doctrine as all the others. It just hides it better.

A small part of wants to yell at how stupid it is, at the lack of critical thought and action that no-one wants to take, but something stops her. Forces her to reevaluate. She can’t judge people based on a morality system so vastly different from hers. And yet... it’s hard not to. It’s hard not to look at the ninja jumping past her and wonder: How many people have you killed? How much blood is on your hands?

Konoha is the nice village, but it is still a military dictatorship. The daimyo were rarely, if ever explained, and she wonders how civilian leaders would even be able to keep shinobi under control. Does the army of the daimyo have shinobi in it? Is it stronger than a ninja village? Is it a mutually beneficial deal, where the daimyo handles the civilian side, while the Kage handles the shinobi? She doesn’t know.

But she needs to. She needs to educate herself, to try and find a way to survive in a world that goes against every facet of her being.

And that was the crux of her problems. Knowledge. An abundance of it, despite every facet of it coming from fanfiction and whatever discussion boards took her fancy. She had read enough fanfiction to understand the plot, to know what happened and how it ended, but the details, the intricacies of it were lost on her. Too time-consuming for a fandom she barely dipped her toes in.

And then she became a lawyer and all semblance of interest had fled her in favour for work. Sure, she kept up with some of her favourites from time to time, would reread the ones she saw as ‘classics’, but what little investment she’d had in the beginning was all but gone.

Still, she’d read enough fanfiction to know about her situation, as unbelievable as it was. She didn’t understand why some divine being thought the best thing to do with her consciousness or soul or whatever she has was to shove it in the main character of a series she barely had anything to do with.

She didn’t know what she would have to do to survive. Would she let her morals die out for the sake of living? Would she ignore the banging drum inside her head that screamed that this was all wrong, that this couldn’t continue, that people were suffering because of this-!

She wonders. Does she have the right to change a system that is violent, even though that system has been in place for decades?

She was intricately familiar with death and crime. Her job in her past life had revolved around the worst aspects humanity could throw at her. After almost fifteen years, she liked to think she’d seen it all. She could unflinchingly stare down the most horrifying criminals the world had seen, was able to push down the disgust and violent shock that hit her the moment she came home. She’d reviewed cases that would give people nightmares for years on end, and pushed through until they could put them in the hands of justice.

She had been thirty-something when she died, and hadn’t really expected to live much longer, not when she had a bad heart and worked in a stressful job. She’d seen lawyers come and go out of the profession, unable to handle the type of cases she waded through for years. She didn’t blame them.

Her death wasn’t anything to write home about. Nothing like the fanfiction she would read in her spare time, no big dramatic exit, no murder or car accident. Her bad heart just... gave out one day, unable to handle the stress, the high pressure, the violent aftermath that plagued her dreams at night. The pain came, sudden, strong, harsh, so she’d looked her wife in the eyes, kissed her on the lips, and died.

Except something went wrong. And she found herself waking up in the grass of a village that seemed only faintly familiar, stuck in the body of a three year old.

And maybe she would have been fine with it. Maybe she could have built a new life.

If there hadn’t been several major problems.

First of all, as she slowly grew, it became obvious that her new home wasn’t her old world, didn’t have the laws and rules she was used to. The shinobi taught her that, the casual references to violence she saw everyday, the ease in which killers walked amongst children. Oh she knew the plot and the main characters, but only due to fanfiction and the wiki. And even then, this place was... different. Slightly more twisted, a bit darker than the bright colours of the story, lines of harshness where before there had been enjoyment.

Again, she maybe could have lived with that. She could’ve stayed a civilian or something, tried to advocate for rights in her own, subtle, not dangerous way.

But then she was faced with a dilemma that ripped out any chance she could have at slipping away unnoticed. One that automatically changed her path onto an already set one, and took away any freedom she might have had.

She’s the main character.

She is Naruto.

And unlike in fanfiction where the character’s gender is changed to fit your own, real life is not like that. She is in a male body. A part of her looks down and feels sick, but she forces herself to carry on. Yes, it makes her uncomfortable, but she’s sure she can find some HRT or do that weird transformation jutsu or whatever and be done with it.

(If there was one good thing about this world, it was how things like these could be easily dealt with through magic, chakra, whatever the hell it was.)

She has worse problems to deal with, and being trans is not one of them. Not when she’s faced with a future she knows faintly from her time reading fanfiction. Not when she knows who she is.

And this is where the third reason came in.

She hates Konoha. Hates the entire world she was forced in, because it’s a contradiction to every single one of her morals. She can’t help but bristle at everything around her, even as she tries to force herself to stop and listen, to give it a chance despite the wrongness of it all.

But while she was used to unnecessary hostility and sub-par treatment in her old world because of her sexuality, her situation in Konoha is... different. Here, she is ignored. Eyes glide over her, but whispers follow her every step, low, poisonous, disapproving. She is treated like a ghost, like an inconvenient rock at the side of the road. Her entire existence is a problem to everyone around her, and that does things to your psyche. At least she had support groups in her old world; with people who were like her or who just didn’t care about those sorts of things. At least she’d had her wife in her old world.

But here she is, stuck in a world that wants to make her kill while trying to kill her.  

It makes her skin crawl. She can’t live like this. She can’t.

She’s not going to live out the rest of her days doing work that goes against her values, her ideals, her very life blood.

No, she refuses to dance to the puppet strings that Kishimoto, the Hokage, Danzo and so on want to place on her. She refuses to follow the road of murder and crime that she had fought against in her last life. Just because it’s accepted here doesn’t mean she has to follow it.

She’ll have to be subtle, be cautious and careful, but the first chance she gets, the moment she’s strong enough to leave, she’ll bolt.

Hopefully, it would be before she has to decide between her life or her morals.

It doesn't actually hit her until she is three, almost four years old, plonked in the middle of the garden and watching a bunch of grubby kids run past her.

One moment she's a sticky, dirty toddler sitting in the mud, before suddenly being a sticky, dirty toddler with the knowledge and experience of an adult woman who viewed both this world and herself as fictional. The overload of information, the pure shock at being fully aware of who she was and her surroundings is too much for a young, pretty undeveloped mind.

She passes out,  soft pleas in the back of her mind that no, she isn’t where she thinks she is. Except when she wakes up hours later, tucked into bed by one of her caretakers, it hits her that yes, this is real. She is real.

And she’ll most likely die in this world that has no place for people like her. Not really.

Because for God's sake, she’s Naruto, and Naruto already had a hard enough time surviving without being screwed over with the morality and knowledge of a human rights lawyer.

This entire world is a walking human rights violation, a contradiction to every one of her morals, of her goddamned job. And if she wants to live, then she’ll have to play by those same rules.

She swallows harshly, ignoring the bile that pools in the bottom of her throat, and tries not to panic. She barely knows what happens in ‘canon’. She never read or watched the series, her ADHD stopping her from fully investing in it, and now she’ll pay for that misstep.

How is she meant to live in a world like this? In a world that watched a village massacre its people and looked away?

She would either have to capitulate, or make changes. Serious changes to herself, the supposed 'canon' and the dangers that Naruto’s future would bring her. A part of her tells her to slow down, to reconsider, because if she makes a mistake, if she misjudges, then she’ll probably end up dead. But she can’t accept this. She can’t. Not for herself.

She would let herself die again before she did any of the things they expect her to do, that the plot expects her to do. She might be desensitised but her morals are her life, her job was her life, and she refuses to go against them. She refuses to become one of them for the sake of the story.

But... the question blares in her mind. How much should she change? She’s determined not to become a tool in the hands of old warmongers who live for conflict, who serve and strengthen their military dictatorship and bring children into a service that will end up killing them. She knows what that kind of service does, she had seen the impacts and trauma those sort of people cause in their quest for power and superiority. It’s disgusting. It’s so deeply and fundamentally wrong and-

She takes a breath. Pauses. Thinks it over.

No-one here has an issue with it. No-one sees a problem. Well, no-one except for those insane fools at the Akatsuki, and they really aren’t prime examples since they’re using the exact same tactics as the system they want to eradicate to achieve their idea of ‘peace’.

She should run. Should forget it all, should ignore it and focus on surviving, but-

Does she hold some responsibility to change the system? To fix it, to... make it better? Can she even do that? Does she have the right to do that? Could she swing into this world and declare it wrong, to make changes despite the fact that the people had lived like this for a long time, to twist things to fit her idea of morality and justice?

Or is she just making excuses?

She decides to shove those thoughts away to think about when she wasn't a drooling toddler.

First things first though, she has to change her name. She isn’t Naruto, and she never will be. She can’t be, not when the plot of his life leads her down a path she doesn’t want to go down.

Thus, she becomes Nana. She announces it cautiously at dinner time with the other orphans, curious to see their reactions to her sudden name change. Weirdly enough though, it isn’t that hard to enforce the others to call her by that. Maybe it’s because the orphanage was practically run by the older orphans. God knows the Matron is barely around, instead only dropping by every so often to make sure they’re alive.

But it seems like gender and sexuality is quickly accepted here, at least in most circles. She’s heard that some civilians act different, but most of the time, no-one bats an eye. In the orphanage alone, there are several people like her. Haru and Kyoko prefer neutral pronouns, Kanna, her main carer is also a trans woman, and just last week, Ryuu announced that he wasn't always a guy, and would let people know how he was feeling. And that is the end of that.

Her vague memories remind her of her carers, children barely older than thirteen who had changed her diapers, fed her bottles and sung her childish songs. All of the orphans older than ten have to pitch in, which means that everyone knows everyone, and somehow, it brings them closer. Almost like a family. They couldn't care less about the fact that people ignore her, curse her, calling her a demon, an abomination, because these children are used to being the bottom of society. In their eyes, she’s just another orphaned child, another shunned and rejected member of society. She is one of them. And in order to survive the wretched world that has it out for them, they need to band together.

And somehow, she finds herself loving these children like her own family.

Nana is six when she meets the Sandaime Hokage for the first time, and the entire experience is... uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and eye-opening, because it hadn't completely hit her before. She's dealt with war criminals before, glimpsed at military dictators several times, but she's never liked it. She can school her face into neutrality, into distant acknowledgement, but inside, she's trembling as she stands before a man so revered by his subordinates, even as he sends them to their deaths with a smile. It was easier before, seeing those criminals, because they were locked up in shackles, and didn't really have any magical ninja powers that could kill her with barely a flick of a finger. She's not in a courtroom, not in her territory. This is the enemy's land, and she's nothing more than a tiny child caught in the politics of death and dictatorship.

Here is the man responsible for making her life hell, who lets his old friend kidnap and torture children, who trains children into soldiers and lets them run to their death, who acts a kindly old man but holds the final word above all. There are no laws in the shinobi world, only Kage.

Her past and knowledge gnaw at her mind, burning and itching against her skull as it whispers about duty and promises, hisses deaths that will happen and that have already happened due to the system. A soft guilt wells up in her chest, because she has never run before, never ran in her old life, would face her cases stoically and strongly, determined to see justice but-

She is nothing more than an ant swept in centuries of militarism, of dictatorship and tradition. She may have sworn an oath as a human rights lawyer to bring criminals to justice, but how can she do the same here, when every adult, even every child she meets should be locked away for war crimes? She is one person, just a single person in a flood of killers, of a society that has been allowed to continue for far longer than it should have, and deep inside her she knows that there is little she can do. It doesn't matter that she's the protagonist, that she has unlimited power hidden beneath her fingertips. The only way to change this world is through death and destruction and-

She can't do it. How can she uphold her oaths in a world like this? How can she fight for justice and equality when Ninjas have no concept of such a thing, no laws to keep it in check? Violence and death is the currency here, not diplomacy and justice, not communication and betterment. Power is absolute here, and it has turned this world into a rotten husk.

But in the moment, she can't let those feelings matter. Can't let the Hokage see her thoughts, see who she is, see the hatred she holds for everything around her. The Hokage is smiling gently at her, bowed slightly to match her tiny tiny height, and she hates.

"Hello there young one. What is your name?" he asks kindly, warmly, his eyes soft and grandfatherly. Of course, he knows who she is, had summoned her himself, but he's giving her a chance to introduce herself, some illusion of control. He can see the way she fidgets, the discomfort in her position, the wariness in her face, and offers her some measure of control to calm her down. There is no way Nana can hide the roiling unease in her posture, not from a man like him. Whether his actions are sincere or a ploy to get her guard down, she doesn't know, but she sees him wait patiently for her response, sees the warm interest hiding the truth, and she swallows.

"Nana, I'm Nana." It sounds like a promise, like a stone tossed against water making the first changes to an already changed world, and she wants to vomit. Maybe she should have said 'Naruto', it would make it easier for her to change her name and disappear later on, but she's called herself Nana for years, can't betray who she is, not when she's absolutely sure that the Hokage already knows her name.

"Nana," he sounds out, nodding slowly, as though he's weighing her name on his tongue, weighing her in his mind. The Hokage looks over her, looks at her patchy dress, her messy hair pulled back into a childish braid, the dented flower pins crammed into her hair for some illusion of dignity. Kyoko had shoved the pins in her hair this morning, worry and fear forcing their hands to tremble.

"That's a cute name," he says finally, warm smile on his face, "did you choose it yourself?"

Nana ducks shyly, hesitantly nodding her head, trying to convey an aura of timid childishness. His smile grows fond, and he places a hand on her shoulder, subtly grabbing her attention to make her look up.

"Do you know who I am, Nana-chan?"

Of course she knows. Every child, no matter how old knows who this man is, how much power he holds in his hands. But it's only the orphans who truly understand what exactly he can do. What exactly, he lets happen.

Kids who catch the eyes of old men never come back.

It's why Kyoko and Ryuu and Yuji paled when they got the missive, why Kanna couldn't look at her without tears slipping down her face. They lost little Ume barely three weeks ago, so clever, so agile, her ability to sense chakra past what was usual for a little orphan girl. She showed it off during Academy Recruitment Day, and she was gone within the week.

And now the Hokage himself wanted to see Nana, wanted to talk to her, Nana who was hated far beyond the normal disdain for grubby orphans, Nana who had huge amounts of chakra and intelligence that surpassed most teenagers let alone a six year old.

Nana, who nobody but nameless, unimportant orphans would miss.

"Play it down," Yuji told her, "show you're not interesting, not anything special, even though you are." He was the one to braid her hair, hands shaking, and gave her a bigger breakfast than usual. He had hugged her tightly before they left, held on tightly and desperately, unspoken pleas between the two of them, before he was forced to let go when the ninja escort cleared his throat.

"You're just a normal six year old girl, who likes normal things. Make sure they see you struggle with words, don't say anything clever," Kyoko whispered as they tangled the flower pins in her hair. They had found them in a dumpster, bent and battered, but they had straightened them out again, scrubbed them with a rag until they shone. They fiddled with Nana's hair over and over, until there was no longer an excuse to keep her there.

"Play dumb," Ryuu demanded, her face narrowed and worried, "I don't care what they think, as long as they label you and idiot and unworthy of their time. But be subtle. Don't let them notice, don't let them know what you're doing." She grabbed her shoulders, brought her close to her face, until Nana could see the cracks in her foundation, the smears of mascara at the corners of her eyes. She had been crying. "Do you understand, Nana? Don't show off. Don't show them how clever you are. Talk slowly, be dense, have a short attention span, look away when the try to talk to you, do you understand?"

She had only released her after she nodded, after she whispered her agreement softly.

"Don't get taken." She had stared intensely at her for another moment, before giving a decisive nod, and a quiet kiss against her cheek, leaving behind smeared lipstick.

Kanna had to be pried away from her, sobbing into the scuffed kimono they were able to find, begging for her to come back, to please come back.

Something small in her broke, at the resigned acceptance in Yuji's eyes, the quiet terror in Kyoko's hands, the hidden outrage in Ryuu's words, the distraught grief in Kanna's tears. How used to this were they? How used to saying goodbye, to being forced to watch their family be torn away from them? To the knowledge that they were powerless to stop it?

She had gathered their advice, repeated it in her head like a mantra, even though she knows that the Hokage will see through it. Even though she knows that out of all of them, she is the safest one. She will never be taken by Danzo, not with her prominent status, not when the Hokage has eyes watching her at all times, trusted eyes, not faceless, nameless ANBU members. Being a jinchuuriki has its drawbacks, but it also gives her a layer of security none of the other orphans have. Nana will never be stolen away in the night, not without some seriously dedicated ninja willing to fight through several layers of ANBU protection.

(But a part of her questioned how willing Danzo would be if she let slip her intelligence. How desperate, how dedicated to spiriting her away?)

The kids at the orphanage don't know she's safe, don't know that Sarutobi wouldn't let anything happen to Minato's child. She shouldn't know that either, but it weighs down on her, both as a security blanket and as a reminder that escaping Konoha is going to be hell. They're not going to let someone as genetically important as her get away. Not only does she have her father's potential, but she's a direct descendent of a pure-bred Uzumaki. Any children of hers would be viable jinchuuriki candidates, not to mention the variety of other abilities they could inherit. She's an asset through and through, and Konoha would tighten their grip as much as they needed to keep her from slipping away.

And yet...

And yet, the irony lies in their unwillingness to foster loyalty or goodwill, to give her reason to stay and pro-create, to defend the village with her dying breath. It heats her blood, makes her furious at the hypocrisy, the injustice, the sheer stupidity of it all, but she tampers it down, lets her righteous anger simmer deep inside her, fuelling her determination to leave.

The Hokage is still waiting for her answer, and she forces herself to squeak in embarrassment, to nod and give a sheepish grin.

"You're the Hokage," she finally says.

You're a war criminal, she wants to scream, you perpetuate a society that only benefits the powerful and tosses the innocents to the wolves you-

She clamps it down, tries to balance an aura of air-headed distraction while still showing the excited worship of a kid meeting their hero, meeting the man they've been brainwashed into revering.

"I am," he chuckles out, pleased at her response, but he leans closer, winks as though he's telling a secret, and asks, "do you know what I do?"

You send children off to die, her mind hisses, you toss the broken beneath your feet so you and your comrades can climb higher, you pushed a child out into a sea of hatred and expect them to-

"You're the strongest ninja ever! You look after us all!" she cheers out over the bitter words rattling in her skull, in her heart. The Hokage grins, laughs a happy laugh and ruffles her hair, enthused by her excitement, her childish glee, and she burns.

"I do indeed!" He's beaming, smile wide and delighted, and he asks: "Do you want to learn how to look after people as well, like I do?"

She wants to hate this man, wants to see him as the criminal he is, but... is he not a victim as well? He believes he's doing the right thing, believes he knows best-

(but don't they all? Don't they all first start out with good intentions, before the power beings to coil around their hearts and minds until they rot?)

She sees an old man over the image of a war criminal, sees a father and a grandfather smeared alongside a dictator, sees a tired, grieving, regretful man even as she imagines him signing the papers sealing so many deaths.

She breathes, and pushes it down.

It doesn't matter who he was, who he wants to be. He stands in such a position of power. If he wanted things to be different then he could have brought that change. How many times did she glimpse across a courtroom and see such a familiar visage, see another mourning leader who never meant for it to get this far-

But it did. It did, and people died because of it, people suffered for it. People are suffering now, and she thinks of the orphanage, her family in everything but blood, her children who she would protect with her life if her body weren't so small, thinks of the squalor and grime they live in, the tinge of fear that coats every laugh, every smile. She thinks of her children, forced to bend and break in the face of society's dismissal, their disgust, their refusal to take responsibility.

And deep inside, she makes an unconscious choice, unknown to her yet, but the soft embers of determination are lit beneath her skin.

"Yes," she answers, still keeping her voice light and cheerful, but there's something heavier to her agreement, something sombre and unwilling, but resolved all the same.

And maybe the Hokage hears it, maybe he can feel the deeper meaning behind her words, but he gives no indication other than a gentle smile and a pleased look.

(But she has been reading people for so long, can spot the darkness within, the regret, the heavy weight of a decision. She is six years old, and they're going to prepare her for war. She is a weapon, she is their weapon but-

She refuses. She refuses. She is her own weapon, and she will do it like she did in her last life: with her words and logic, because her battleground is not a war zone, no, it's a courtroom, and there, she has her say. There, she is in charge. Because ninja and kunai can kill, but words can topple governments.)

(And they will.)

(She guarantees it.)

Chapter Text

Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status. Furthermore, no distinction shall be made on the basis of the political, jurisdictional or international status of the country or territory to which a person belongs, whether it be independent, trust, non-self-governing or under any other limitation of sovereignty.

— Article 2 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

Nana returns back to the orphanage in the evening, hands shaking in the sleeves of her kimono as the full force of her agreement rings over and over again in her mind.

Tomorrow, she would join the Academy.

Tomorrow, she would become a child soldier.

Tomorrow, she would learn how to kill.

Bile swims up her throat, but she pushes it down, tries to keep herself from raising further questions. After all, why would a child so obviously eager to join the Academy, having just met her hero, feel sick? She isn’t as practiced as holding a poker face, as locking away the screams with a smile as before, but she blames it on her body, on the unused muscles and childish emotions making her go haywire.

God, she was so... proud isn’t the right word, but grateful, for her ability to keep things under lock and key during high profile cases back then. Once upon a time she could read through a horrific case without flinching, could keep the disgust and vomit away for an entire week, before she came home and collapsed in her wife’s arms. It hadn’t been healthy, but any sign of weakness, any faltering motion, and she would have been torn apart.

And now? Now she can barely keep herself from vomiting without a straight face, and it chafes, it burns that her body can’t keep up with her mind, not when the same rules of the court apply here. Except here, she’ll literally be torn apart. The scales have dipped, the stakes are higher, and every step is on a tightrope of imprisonment and death. The smallest mistake, the slightest hesitation, and she’ll fall.

She’s not sure which one is better.

Her escort leaves the moment she’s in front of the door, and she feels a desperate relief at their absence. Of course, she knows she’s still being watched, but there’s less pressure in their distant examination than there is in their direct presence. The door swings shut behind her, and she breathes, leaning against the worn door. But her respite is short, since the moment the sound of the door closing reverberates throughout the house, Yuji rushes down the stairs, Kanna and the others close on his heels.

“Nana,” he gasps out, desperately relieved, the terror and grief fading from his eyes as he grabs her and holds her tight. Kanna is sobbing again, trying to push through Yuji to hold her as well, her manic weeping piercing through the excited and joyous chatter of the kids, and Kyoko presses kisses to her cheeks, tears streaking down their face as Ryuu watches from a distance, a quiet smile on her lips.

She’s home.

She’s safe.

And for a moment, she lets herself weep as well, both in relief to see her family and in fear of what’s to come, of the choices she will have to make. But for now, her family is here, and she can fool herself into thinking she’s safe. Just for a little while.

Yuji pulls back at her tears, sees her trembling hands and worn face and he begins to fuss, bundling her up and pulling her to the main room, the quiet worry and fear returning. Kanna latches on to her hand, tightly, harshly, refusing to be separated again, and it’s strange to have someone like her in her life again. Kanna is her mother and sister in one, despite barely being sixteen, and as much as Nana wants to protest at the childish treatment, she won’t, not when it means so much to Kanna. The moment a child turns ten here, they are expected to help raise the children, with one person allocated as a main carer, and Kanna has been hers since she was a baby, since Kanna was ten years old. It is cruel to place so many expectations on someone so young, but without this system, the children would die, would be neglected more than they already are, because the Matron rarely does anything, rarely has time to watch over so many children crammed into a place meant for less than half of them.

Here, it is Yuji who looks after them, the most responsible of them all, the one who takes over budgets and cooking and cleaning, even as he studies so very hard. He got an offer to be a baker’s apprentice, and they were all so proud, because it meant he could have a profession, could own his own bakery one day, could rise beyond his status as an orphan. He’ll be leaving in two months, the day he turns eighteen, but she knows he’ll come back, just like the other orphans who had to leave do. They still pitch in, still spare as much money as they can without starving to death, and the fact that children who have been pushed to the bottom of the barrel and forgotten can be kinder than adults who should have helped them up, only serves to make the fire burn brighter in her heart.

It isn’t Konoha’s bullshit version of the Will of Fire, their propaganda doctrine that’s supposed to brainwash their child soldiers into unmoving loyalty, unquestioning obedience, but her own, determined fire that would gleam whenever she got a particularly horrible case.

It’s her desire for justice, to see a wrong righted, to see the perpetrators realise that they will never see the light of day for their crimes.

“What happened?” Yuji asks gently, crouching down to meet her face head on. Kyoko shoos the other children away, reminds them that it’s almost bedtime, even as they complain about the unfairness of it all, but Nana is relieved to have the quietness back, the pretence of order and control.

“The... Hokage wanted to see me. To talk about...” she bites her lip. The Academy was... not quite a death sentence, but close to one. There weren’t a lot of paths for clanless orphans in Konoha, despite the illusion of them. You either stayed in civilian school until you turned eighteen, at which point you were thrown out of the orphanage and expected to make your own way, or you joined the Academy during Recruitment Day, left the orphanage when you graduated, and became cannon fodder in the Genin Corps.

There was barely any opportunity for an orphan to graduate past Genin, and most of the time they’d be left behind when their teammates became Chuunin, shunted off to the side and sent off for dangerous courier missions they weren’t prepared for.

The mortality rate of orphans, of clanless children who became shinobi was close to 90 per cent, and she wasn’t over-exaggerating. Jounin teachers were more concerned with any clan children they got than some presumably talentless child, and it left them unprepared for the horrors to come. Even in the Academy, where you’d expect equal treatment, there was none. You either kept up or got kicked out, with no additional support for children who hadn’t been moulding chakra since they could lift their pudgy arms up.

“I’ve been enrolled in the Academy. I start tomorrow.”

For a second, it’s completely silent, before Ryuu hoarsely whispers: “What?”

Nana doesn’t want to repeat herself, doesn’t want to believe what she’s done, what she’s let happen. Yuji doesn’t say anything, but he leans back, lets his hand slip from her shoulder and stands up.

“Did you have a choice?” He murmurs, but he knows the answer. They all know the answer.

“No.”

And that’s the truth of it. She had no choice, no excuse to refuse the Hokage’s offer. He wouldn’t have let, would have gently persuaded her otherwise, because-

Because she’s the Kyuubi container, and needs to be trained. Needs to be prepared. The enrolment age of the Academy may have been lifted during peacetime, but she is a weapon.

Their weapon.

But her enrollment isn’t the worst thing.

She swallows, and announces quietly: “They’re moving me to an apartment.”

Something smashes into the ground, and she whirls, watches Ryuu stand over glass shards on the floor, face blotchy and red as she punches the wall, her other fist bloody from the glass she broke. Kanna has started to weep again, burying her hands in her face and shuddering violently. Ryuu screams brokenly, furiously, and Kyoko rushes over, pulls her away even as she fights back. Yuji says nothing at all.

“What else do they want from us? What fucking else?” Ryuu shrieks, and Nana is reminded that she’s only fifteen, that despite the maturity that fools even her into thinking she’s older, she’s still so very young.

She thinks she sees a glimpse of her ANBU guard through the grimy window, probably called over by the sound of shattering, but they're nothing more than a shadow in the corner of her eye, and she immediately wonders if she saw them at all.

“When do you leave?” Yuji sounds so empty, so broken, that she can’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

Kanna howls, and it rings in her mind, vibrates in her very soul, because it’s the sound of someone who is losing everything in front of her and can’t stop it, and she knew Kanna was fond of her, couldn’t stop her own affection blooming for the older girl, but she-

She didn’t know she loved her to this extent, didn’t realise that the others loved her as well, and she starts to sob as well. She blames it on her childish young mind later, tries to pretend it was just another lapse in control, but- These are her kids, her family, and she’s being torn apart from them again. Yuji rushes over to her then, eyes wide behind his glasses and he scoops her up like she’s three again, holds her close and tries to soothe her, but all she can think about are Kanna’s wails, Ryuu’s shrieks of outrage, Kyoko’s silence, Yuji’s emptiness, and she hates. She hates Konoha, hates this world, hates the system that has forced these broken children to a point of no return.

She sees Haru in the doorway, Haru who probably left their workplace early to check in on them, because they always do that, even if they stopped living at the orphanage months ago. The kids who left visit a lot, scrape together what money they can to ease the burden slightly, even if they still live in squalor as well, because they’re a family, and she-

She doesn’t want to lose this. Even if it’s only been three years, even if she barely knows them, they’re her family.

And then Kanna is there, arms slipping around her as she holds her tight to her chest, to her heart, and weeps silently into her kimono.

“Not her,” she sobs out, “not her, please, please, not her-!”

“When will it be enough?” Kyoko whispers weakly in the distance, voice hoarse from their silent fury, their loathing, and Ryuu scoffs bitterly.

“This is Konoha. It’ll never be enough.”

Even as Kyoko quickly shushes her, eyes fearful of retaliation, because what Ryuu says is basically fucking treason, she can see Yuji’s mouth thin in agreement, can see the tremble in his fists.

Because they’ll never be enough. The victims never are, in regimes like these. They’ll be swallowed up whole, pulverised without any thought because-

They don’t matter.

They don’t matter.               

She once read a fanfiction describing Konoha as the worst of all the Hidden Villages. That the corruption, the death ran deeper in its rotting roots than it shows. And she’s inclined to agree. This whole world is wrong, so completely and utterly abhorrent, and she’s never been able to stand for hypocrisy. All she’s seen in Konoha is the hypocritical actions of a dictator who believes he’s working for peace as he lets the drums of war beat below the surface.

They are the fodder tossed out on the front lines, ignored, forgotten, broken.

It will never be enough.

They will never be enough.

There is no such thing as a 'kind' Hidden Village.

In the warm glow of the morning, it is Kanna who gets her ready. Her meagre belongings were packed up last night by Haru, after she had exhausted herself with crying and fury. They’re already gone in the morning, have to go to work if they want to keep their job, but she felt them press a kiss to her head in the night, a gentle stroke of her head, before they left. She slept tangled in Kanna’s arms, the elder girl unwilling to let her go, not when it was their last night together.

She thinks she blames herself, blames herself for failing her. Her first care-child, and she’s losing her to the greedy hands of men rotted with power. So she lets Kanna fuss, pretends not to notice her watery voice or glistening eyes as she fiddles with her clothing. Ryuu, who gruffly announced he was a man today, his carefully painted makeup hiding the tears of last night, dumped his old clothing on her, told her she could keep it, before he hurried off, unable to look her in the eyes.

They’re surprisingly durable, made of good material and despite the fact that they’re slightly big, it’s perfect for exercise. Perfect for fighting, for learning how to fight and kill and-

“Ryuu used to be in the Academy,” Kanna explains softly, interrupting her thoughts as she braids her hair gently, “his parents were shinobi before...”

She trails off, and Nana can fill in the blanks. Before the Kyuubi attack. Before they died. Before he came here.

“He dropped out after that, but since- He thought it would be helpful to give them to you.” Her voice hitches in the middle, hands shaking as they deftly twist her braid into a bun, but Nana says nothing. Can’t say anything to that. Once she’s done, Kanna’s hands rest softly on her shoulders, a wobbly smile on her face as they look at each other through the mirror.

“There,” she whispers, “you look very cute. And your hair won’t... won’t get in the way.”

Nana twists to hug her tightly, buries her face in her worn clothing, breathes in the shampoo Kanna had saved up for, and tries very hard not to cry again.

“I don’t... I don’t-”

I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave, she wants to scream, and her carer hears it without her saying, smiles so sadly, so emptily, and leans forward to press a kiss against her head.

“You’ll do wonderfully. You’re... so smart, so strong and brave, Nana. You’ll take the world by storm, I can feel it, because you’re Uzumaki Nana, and we love you so dearly.”

Despite the pride in her voice, Nana can hear the desperate sadness, the resigned acceptance of the situation, and she pushes her sadness down. She has to be strong now. Has to be strong for her children, her orphans, and she gives Kanna a wobbly grin. She’ll look after them, she’ll keep them safe, she’ll try and try and try.

Just like she always did.

She always did because she was-

(a whispered name, joyful, disgusted, loving, gentle-)

Because she’s Uzumaki Nana, and she refuses to let this world continue to beat her down. To beat her family down.

Kanna’s sadness lifts slightly, her smile stretching into something so very proud and loving, and another piece slots itself beneath her heart, another unknown strand of choice that weaves itself into her final decision.

Nana goes to the Academy with her head held high, the tearful goodbyes of her family still ringing in her ears as she makes her way alone, because none of the older children could get out of school to walk her there, none of them could afford it, but it doesn’t matter. She isn’t six, no matter how much she let herself indulge in that yesterday. She has to stop thinking she’s six, has to stop making excuses. She has to get strong, even as the disgust and hatred of her actions threatens to eat her alive, but she’d rather be consumed by herself than by the outstretched hands of leaders who think they know better, of leaders who maintain the status quo under the guise of peace.

She will get strong enough to... do something. Maybe change the world, but that brings forth a whole different slew of problems that she’ll think on later. For now, it’s her first day of the Academy, and she’s ready. Or, as ready as someone can ever be.

(She’s not. She’s not ready, and she never will be.)

To many, the Academy is a place of safety, of learning, of development. It’s where young clan heirs learn to uphold the reputation of their family, where civilian born shinobi go on to greatness, where children go to be strong, to protect and serve their village.

It’s prettied up lies, the truth buried under a coating of propaganda so that the village can feed the system that relies on shinobi to function. This is where children become indoctrinated, where they become soldiers, where they learn how to kill.

This is where children go to die.

(She thinks distantly of Hatake Kakashi, entering at four and leaving at her age, thinks of Itachi, who was taken to a battle field at an age when she was still playing in mud. Thinks of Sai and Yugito Nii and all the other characters she only learned about through fanfiction and the wiki, thinks of their stories and hardships, and how no-one lifted a finger to help.)

(Bile bubbles up softly in her stomach, and she tries to push her thoughts away.)

She’s joining her class quite late, will probably be held back for the next class to come (which will bring a whole bunch of familiar faces, familiar futures and promises that she won’t let happen), but the Hokage wanted her in the Academy now, and what the dictator wants, the dictator gets. She can feel the glares on her back even as she enters the courtyard, her whisker marks standing out strongly on her face, a reminder to everyone of a secret that should have been kept, but wasn’t.

(A promise to Namikaze Minato broken, just another of so many. Crossed fingers behind backs as they swear to tell the truth. Liars never change, no matter the world. Here it’s just expected.)

Nana ignores the glares with a practiced ease, lets the mutters and hissed curses fly over her head because she was called a lot worse in her old world, faced a lot worse than a bunch of idiots willing to use a child as a scapegoat.

(Intellectually, she knows it isn’t really their fault. No-one ever explained to them what the sealing meant, no-one bothers to tell civilians anything after all, but their willingness, their inability to look past it, the lack of free-will and thought that permeates the entire village makes her hair stand on end.)

She is given a nameless, faceless teacher who she doesn’t bother to learn the name of because she’ll never see him again, is placed in a class of characters never mentioned anywhere. The lost, the forgotten, the unwritten. They stare at her with thinly veiled hostility, but her gaze slides off them, and... she finds it hard to focus on them. Can barely recognise their faces, even after introductions, all of them sliding into a mass of nothingness.

She looks around, and there is only the unknown.

And she wonders.

She wonders if this will happen with-

No, no, no she refuses to let that happen, they have integrated themselves too heavily in her life to be forgotten like that. She repeats their names like a prayer, all of them, every single child in that orphanage over and over, even as the unfinished blob representing her teacher scolds her for her inattention, even as she’s forced to run five, ten, fifteen laps, each blurring into the next as the eyes of the faceless watch her.

She can hear the lectures, but not recognise the sound of her teacher’s voice, can watch the diagrams and graphs being drawn on the board, but not the hands drawing it, can feel the sheet of paper and pencil in front of her, but not the hand passing it out.

And she realises how cruel this world really is, to delete the background characters from her mind, to erase the unimportant.

Those in the back are rarely remembered, after all.

With clenched fists, she tries to push the thoughts away, and tries to focus on class.

It’s all propaganda, all useless, stupid propaganda, honeyed words that perfectly trap impressionable kids into a life of murder for the sake of a village that doesn’t care. She listens to the teacher spew enticing words of the history of Konoha (the victors write history, painting a pretty picture over the ugliness that got them there in the first place), presenting math problems that sharpen their mind into minds, gives them sheets of paper to carefully trace the characters for loyalty, Hokage, Konoha, and so on and so on, all under the guise of writing lessons.

It’s a subtle art of brainwashing, of indoctrination, and it makes her want to vomit.

And no-one is questioning it, no-one is stopping to pause and think. For all they preached logical and analytical thinking, it was never actually put in use.

Her hands shake as she writes the characters down, mind whirling at the implications. How will she survive this?

Can she even survive this?

Chapter Text

Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.

— Article 3 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

When the school day finally ends, all Nana can feel is a desperate, clawing relief, and she practically flings herself out of the classroom. She can’t stay there another second. The first breath of fresh air soothes her racing mind, and she tries not to gasp for more. She can feel the stares of wary civilians around her, judging eyes drilling into her skin. Some shuffle away, others tut and whisper, but the hostility is still tangible. A sour taste spreads across her tongue, the short-lived relief she felt slowly sloughing off her, and she swallows. She scans the playground outside the building bitterly, narrowed eyes weighing up each person around her and finding them lacking. A heaviness sets into her bones, because she knows there will be no respite. Maybe, maybe if she was returning back to the orphanage she could find some comfort.

But this isn’t the case.

(And never will be again.)

But then her eyes land on a hunched figure standing cautiously on the outskirts, and she wants to cry.

Kyoko is waiting for her, posture nervous as they stand uncomfortably in the slowly emptying schoolyard. An ANBU member looms stiffly beside them as they wait, thick, red lines morphing their mask into a caricature of an animal. Even from a distance she can spot the naked fear and wariness on Kyoko’s face, hands wringing their shirt as they keep their eyes averted from the shinobi in their presence.

Nana’s heart speeds up, both in worry and fury, and she forces her short legs to hurry faster as she jogs over to the two of them. She staunchly refuses to look at the ANBU waiting with them, instead turning to face her sibling (in everything but blood, they are all her family), schooling her face into sheepish delight.

“Kyoko, sorry to make you wait! I didn’t know you were going to pick me up!” she babbles out, grasping their hand with her own smaller one. Kyoko gives a weak smile, hand sweaty and hanging limp as their eyes dart over to the unspoken third person.

“Yes I... I thought you would want someone to pick you up and... and take you to...” They trail off, voice trembling in nervousness and anxiety. Nana grips their hand harder.

“That’s awesome!” she cheers, and she can feel Kyoko’s incredulous stare, can feel their doubt and confusion over her cheery attitude, but she just squeezes their hand again. A soft warning, a gentle acknowledgement, slight enough to be mistaken as a young girl seeking comfort from family. But there is a quiet meaning behind it. Not here, it says, not now. Play along.

“ANBU-san here... was going to take you since they... they know the address. I... I wasn’t sure-” they cut themself off, the terror proving too much. Nana can feel the soft rise of anger in her chest, the violent fury that begs to be let out, because these shinobi are meant to protect, are meant to look after children like them, children of the so-called ‘Leaf’, and yet all they do is inspire fear and desperation, resigned apathy and clawing panic.

Konoha a prettied up lie that rests within her history books, with every character used to write ‘Will of Fire’ dripping in blood and hypocrisy. It’s propaganda, a way to keep killers and monsters under a fragile lead of loyalty. A hollow justification for their actions. Their independent thoughts and questions are choked off; their logic is blinded from before they can crawl, before they can speak, simply to perpetuate the profitability of war and violence.

But it’s not just Konoha who is guilty. The whole world has been poisoned by these meaningless gestures, by the pointless loyalty to a village that does not care if you live or die as long as you serve your purpose. Nationalism and patriotism are tools of obedience, chains wrapped around everyone’s minds and hearts to keep them shackled to empty ideals and futile missions. She’s seen what nationalism does, what suicidal loyalty to a regime, to an ideal that couldn’t give a shit about you can cause, has fought for victims of such blind acceptance and violent devotion.

And she’s seen there’s no point to it.

There is no point to any of this, to loyalty and obedience and the Will of Fire. The only people who could gain anything from this are at the top, and they have been corrupted by years and years’ worth of lies and spoon-fed bullshit. It’s a system designed for destruction, doomed for failure and death and pointless, pointless bloodshed. In a world like this, no-one profits, no really.

But it’s all they know.

It’s become so deeply engrained in their minds and their bodies that their only worth is to fight for a village that wouldn’t even fucking exist without the people within it. That the highest honour is death in service of the village, murder in service of the village, torture in service of the village. For the village, for the village, for the village-!

But what is a town, a city, a world without inhabitants, without people to give it life and strength? There is pride, and then there is blind patriotism into a piece of land. This system does not seem to protect anyone.

(But maybe it’s needed, something whispers in her mind. Maybe they need it. You don’t have the right to storm in here and declare them wrong.)

What is the point of protecting people that will just die the moment another warmonger decides that war and battle will solve all of the problems? What is the point of slaughtering innocent people, helpless in the power of chakra, for... for nothing?

What is the point of power, for power’s sake, when there’s no use for it at all?

The biggest flaw in power is what comes after. Because what do you do when you have everything? What do you do when there is nothing left to conquer, to subjugate, to lose or gain? What then?

Nana turns her attention back to Kyoko, to the ANBU standing silently close by, and smiles childishly.

“I’m sure you can come with me! Right, ANBU-san?”

They say nothing, mask watching her intensely. She knows the answer.

She’s seen fear tactics, has listened to her clients speak of subtle manipulations and implied suggestions, and she’s starting to realise what’s going on here.

Kyoko will not be coming with her.

Instead, they reach out to touch her shoulder, face guilty and scared, and Nana wishes she could grab her sibling and run.

“It’s... It’s okay Nana. I should probably head back soon and... start to cook. Kanna has to work late tonight and Yuji said his boss wanted to talk to him before he left work, so... it’s just me and Ryuu this evening,” they explain softly, hand curling into the barest amount of pressure on her shoulder before releasing it.

And in that moment Nana fully understands why the ANBU is standing there silently, intimidatingly, why they refused to give an answer to her reasonable request.

Separation.

The Hokage wants to separate her completely from the orphanage, wants to pry her away from the possible influences her family could place upon her. They pose a threat to her loyalty, and must therefore be removed. It sounds fucking stupid, because why would he want to drag her from the only people she wants to protect, until you notice how difficult it is to keep track of the orphans.

Orphans can get up and leave Konoha with ease, can build connections with those who might seek to topple the Hokage or otherwise cause trouble. They aren’t watched, aren’t important to anyone, and if one of her family became a sleeper-agent, a turn-coat, a traitor to a village that never cared, they could persuade her away from serving the Hokage. The orphans are too flighty, too loose, too unpredictable. Her loyalty cannot belong to them, not anymore.

And a part of her knows that if she ignores this unspoken expectation, if she continues to attach herself to them, something will happen. She could see it already, could hear the Hokage gently telling her that her family left to go find a better life on the farms, in the Capital, outside of Konoha, even as the hands of his guards drip with blood.

No-one cares about the orphans anyway.

She wants to vomit.

“Okay,” Nana says easily, lightly, and Kyoko’s face falls slightly. She tries to convey her apologies, her own sadness and unwillingness, and something in their face softens.

“Look after yourself Nana, and... make sure to visit! We love you dearly.” They press a gentle kiss to her forehead, an unspoken apology for leaving, before pulling away.

“I’m gonna be really busy with school, but I’ll try to come by! Tell everyone I love ‘em!”

(Tell everyone I’m sorry.)

Kyoko lingers for a final few seconds, before finally turning away and going back to the orphanage, back to the family.

A quiet goodbye.

(She won’t be seeing them for a while. Not if she wants them to live.)

She boxes up the orphanage, her family, her feelings, and pushes it away, deep, deep into a corner of her mind. She can show no weakness, no hesitation.

She must survive for them.

The ANBU member silently watches Kyoko leave, only turning to face her once they’ve completely disappeared.

“This way,” their low voice commands, quickly moving away from the school. Nana startles at the sudden movement, trying to hurry after them despite the disparity between their long legs and her short ones. She barely focuses on where she’s going, too occupied in keeping up with her quick guide. They walk for at least ten minutes, going in the opposite direction of the orphanage and the slums and instead approaching a row of simple concrete buildings. Most of them look slightly run down and she can’t help but wonder if this was where the original Naruto lived.

A part of her hopes so, because from the bare bones of the show she had seen and the fics she read, he was usually left alone and neglected. Being ignored by almost everyone would give her the time and cover to train in secret and just... think. The appearance of the ANBU suggests that she’s going to be under further supervision, restraining her own opportunities to document various plans. She wonders if communicating with the Kyuubi is going to be impossibly difficult, if any attempts to reach him will notify her watchers and get her into a lot of hot water and questioning.

The ANBU leads her into her simple apartment, sparsely furnished and militaristically functional. An envelope of money is pressed into her hands, and in a swirl of leaves, Nana is left alone in her new home. It’s bigger than she expects, living room and bedroom separate with a decently sized bathroom. Somehow she had imagined something... smaller. Worse.

(But then again, they had to appease her in some ways. If they moved her to a place worse than the orphanage then she would have returned no matter what, and they couldn’t have that. It was a bribe and a warning together.)

But it doesn’t matter how surprising her apartment is, how much ‘better’ it is in comparison to her last room. In the end, she is still six years old and they’re sending her to live alone with no guidance, no adult figure, no help.

The realisation sinks deeper and her hands tremble.

Nana swallows softly, and tries to focus on her new place of residence, ignoring the small nagging feeling in her mind that’s telling her she’s taking on something too big.

And like so many times before, she doubts herself.

Life is silent. Where before there was the occasional laugh, the gentle touches and reassuring looks, there is nothing now. She hasn’t seen a single one of her siblings since she was pried away from them, and as much as her heart aches in loneliness, she forces herself to continue. She can’t endanger them, not until she’s strong enough to scoop them all up and run, run, run. Not until she has the power to protect them from the world that will take and keep on taking from her and everyone else.

The question still lingers in the back of her mind. Can she task herself with the upheaval of this system? Does she even have the right to inspire revolution, to overturn these lands to fit to her image? Or would she be just as bad as the Hokage, as the men and women she helped prosecute and put behind bars? Would she too lose sight of her goal and become a warped, twisted being?

Her mind buzzes constantly, different parts of her warring constantly within her. A large piece is yelling at her to cut her losses. She can’t change this world, not like this, not properly. She should run the moment she can, take the people she loves with her, and live out the rest of their days in a false security. The Akatsuki could be dealt with, ANBU could be dodged eventually, and if she runs to the ends of the earth and beyond, will they really be able to catch her?

And yet... running has never solved anything. It has never been in her nature to turn away and disappear. She despaired of the world around her, back in her former life, but she had never stopped fighting for the glimmer of peace she thought could one day come.

But back then she was relatively safe. She wasn’t at the front lines, she wasn’t a revolutionary in the moment of battle. She was cocooned in a courthouse, a bubble protecting her from the worst of the worst.

Her mind bounces between the different positions, each one arguing a strong and solid case as to why she should do X and not Y, locked in a never ending stalemate. She finds herself training later and later, books hastily stolen from the Academy library showing her the rudimentary forms she’ll eventually learn, but has to know now. At the very least, the routine allows for a heavy static to blanket her mind and shut it up for once.

She is fully aware that there is no real solution to this predicament. She’ll be damned no matter what she does. That was one of her wife’s favourite sayings. Nana can practically hear her gentle voice, sweet and sardonic, chuckling out: “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. The world isn’t going play with you, honey. But you’ll figure out the best option, you always do.” And then she’d pull her close, drop a chaste kiss to her lips, and they’d watch a shitty movie until the world righted itself again.

-God, she misses her. She would know what to do, would have already started at least four different plans and seven backup plans, and here Nana is, floundering over the slightest of decisions. To train fully, or not? To stick to the plot, or to dance away? To pretend, or pretend slightly less? To change, or respect the world as it is?

(To survive, or let herself die, and damn this godforsaken world anyway?)

Blood fills her mouth at the thought, sharp teeth piercing through her lip, and she curses, hand cupping her sore mouth, flinching out of the stance she had forced herself into. The wound isn’t too deep, but it’ll definitely sting for the next few minutes, at least until her healing factor kicked in. The pain soon ebbs away, but she doesn’t continue her training. Instead she drops to the floor, and buries her face in her hands.

What the hell is she doing? What is she playing at? She can’t do this. She isn’t a shinobi, isn’t a civilian, isn’t a part of this doomed world, not really. She’s been peeled away and squeezed into the wrong body, the wrong place, confronted with a world that’s falling apart at the seams due to warmongers and dictators, stripped away from the only warmth that dares to embrace her-

What the fuck is she doing?

Not for the first time, something dark creeps into her thoughts. Let them doom themselves, let them watch the Village they have been tricked into loving crumble and shatter. She has the tools to remove herself from the equation, to end her role in this tortuous play.

It would be so easy for her to grab a kunai-

She gasps, harsh and shuddering, neat nails clawing at the carpet below her. She can’t think like that. Death is another step, but she refuses to play an active role in her own one.

(not yet. not unless there’s no other option.)

She forces herself to stand up, to splash her face with freezing cold water, flinching at the way it hits her in the face. Her mind wakes up and the spiral is shooed away.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, forcing herself to feel a calm she hadn’t experienced once in this world. “Okay. Game plan time.”

It was time she stopped dawdling. She hurries over to her closed blinds, pulling a crack aside to glance outside the window. The sun has long since settled past the horizon, the sticky warmth of the day fleeing in the face of the night, and she allows herself to crack open the window. The cool rush of air is a balm against her skin, and an unused smile twitches against her face.

She’s always loved the autumn, and for all its faults, Konoha is a beautiful city. Amber lights dance across the horizon, and she can hear the low chatter of people before they disappear off into their houses. Black smudges dart across buildings, and her momentary good mood sours. For a moment, she could have pretended... No. She can’t forget where she is. Can’t forget that she isn’t safe, and probably never will be. She hastily closes the window again, tugging the blinds back into place, and tries not to long for the soft peace she felt.

It would be best if she headed off to bed, and let herself get a good night’s rest for once.

But nothing ever goes to plan, does it?

Chapter Text

No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms.

— Article 4 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

Nana wakes up in a derelict court room, abandoned and trashed by time and decay. Once upon a time, it would have been beautiful, floorboards made of glossy wood and refined metal, distinguishing this place as a sacred place of justice. Now it is shattered, broken, tainted. Something wet drips down from above, forming red-tinted puddles across the cracked floor, and the motion causes her to look down.

The reflection that peers back at her makes her freeze.

Her throat constricts, a cold terror and desperate longing spreading through her veins, and she wants, wants, wants. A strict looking woman looks at her through the puddle, face aged from stress and worry, but Nana can still spot familiar laugh lines and crow’s feet smoothing the edges, can still see the faint warmth and hope in otherwise focused eyes. Brown hair streaked with grey, pinned up in a tight bun, and she remembers in detail how she’d have to undo her hair at the end of the day because of the tension it caused her.

It’s her.

Her hands reach up automatically to her face, running over the edges, praying that maybe, maybe she could trace the same wrinkles and dips. But the face she feels is still smooth from youth, untouched by time and tension, and she wants to cry. For a moment, she could have tricked herself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was herself again. Not this imposter child she’s taken over. But no.

No.

She isn’t the woman in the puddle. Not anymore.

Instead she is Nana, warped and twisted, wrong and out of place in a world that doesn’t welcome her. Tears spring to her eyes, even as she rubs them away viciously. She should have known better. This puddle is a dream, or something similar. It is not real, she is not real, and it will all go away soon. She’ll find her way back to the land that hates her. Her legs move forward, dragging her away from the puddle, and she wanders over to the centre, standing in the spot where the accused would have stood.

Oh the irony.

She can’t stop the shuddering laugh that wrenches out of her. She wonders if her dream is trying to tell her something, if her mind has finally cracked and forced her into a courtroom to judge herself for her decisions. Or maybe it’s telling her it’s all futile; that justice has decayed and died, leaving nothing more than a ghost behind, trapped in a place that doesn’t exist and never will, no matter what she does.

She looks up, lets a mocking smile spread across her face, and waits for the judge to appear. Maybe this mock trial will show her the deepest parts within her, the thoughts and desires she keeps locked away for her own sanity. From behind the bench, something growls, harsh and hateful. What has her mind conjured up for her, she wonders. What horror will she be forced to face?

But no judge appears.

Instead, two gleaming eyes stare out at her, and slowly the darkness fades.

Behind the bench, a cage sits, large and magnificent.

(How the tables have turned.)

“Well?” Nana calls out.

“Oh?” A voice rumbles, and she can feel their putrid disgust and loathing permeate the air. She wonders if it will be another reflection, this time of a twisted little girl who hates, and hates, and hates.

The answer, in hindsight, should have been obvious. She was so easily wrapped up in self-loathing and despair that she completely forgot about that hidden part of her, the part that had caused her to be cursed in the eyes of the village in the first place.

So when a warped image of herself doesn’t appear, but instead a giant fucking fox, she can’t stop her mouth from dropping open.

“Gawking, little rat? Or are you just impatient for death?”

There is no describing the Kyuubi. Not really, not without gratuitous use of adjectives and expletives, because however big people might think he is, he’s actually a whole lot bigger. And she starts to understand just why people are so absolutely terrified of her.

If she knew that some volatile kid held the apocalypse in their gut, she’d be pretty fucking wary too.

“Is that your full size?” she blurts out, because God forbid she’s able to keep her mouth shut and diplomatically explain her situation. The Kyuubi growls furiously, and she knows she’s insulted him. Nana wants to curse at her own stupidity, at her own childish lack of inhibitions, but instead gathers herself up and forces her mind to kick into polite lawyer mode. Just flattering enough to appear sincere, but not enough to look like a sugary liar.

“I apologise for my abrupt comment, I was simply astounded by your size. Forgive me for my rudeness,” she explains civilly, bowing respectfully at the being before her. “I was not expecting to meet you here at this moment.”

His ears twitch curiously, even as the snarl on his face doesn’t cease.

“What a polite brat. Perhaps I’ll reconsider how slow your death will be,” he snarls out.

She has heard far, far worse from people. His comment is borderline kind compared to the other threats she’d heard in her past life.

“I would thank you for doing so, however I may need to reschedule such an appointment at a later date. Instead, may I request your name?”

Of course she knows it already, but in the fanfics being polite seemed to work better than startling him. Or... was it the other way around? She can’t remember, and the panic she had been suppressing starts to crack through her mask.

“Oh? Does the jailer not know who she is guarding? Maybe if you come closer, I could tell you.” His voice rumbles through the floor, menacing and clever, and she swallows.  

She has no fucking clue what she’s doing. She’s made no plan for this, hadn’t really realised that she would eventually have to confront a huge mythical being in her mind, because if she was honest, a part of her hadn’t fully believed it. Not until now.

Fuck the politeness. Fuck it, she’s freestyling. The polite mask of interest drops, and she lets the Kyuubi see her fully, lets him see the naked terror and hatred she tried to hide.

“Scared, little rat?” He mocks viciously, and she lets out a strangled laugh.

“Of you? Of course. Of course I would be, Kurama, child of Hagoromo. You are a beast amongst men, and yet somehow, that has granted you more humanity than any human I’ve met in this world,” she spits out, venom and hatred clear in her voice, and he rears back, hisses furiously at her words.

“How dare you-” he tries to say, but stops as the full meaning of what she said seems to register.

“I am scared of you, Kyuubi,” she admits, “But what lies beyond you fucking terrifies me.”

A silence rests between them, contemplative and curious. He looks at her in fascination, even as the disgust stays clear in his eyes.

“How curious,” he says after a while. “You hold a lot of hatred for someone so small.”

“Not young?” She croaks out, and he hisses in amusement.

“You? Young? Do not try and fool me. What have you seen, little rat? Whatever could scare you beyond the monster responsible for destroying your precious town and the parents that couldn’t even hold you before they died?”

Nana swallows, and forces herself to hold his gaze.

“I used to deal with criminals who had committed such atrocious crimes against the world that it caused my heart to give out. And then I woke up here, and realised I was surrounded by the same people I used to face in court, except this time, there was no system to bring these criminals to justice. Instead, I would be trained to be one, to live as one,” she spits out hoarsely, the words tasting like bile on her tongue. The Kyuubi says nothing, old, ancient eyes narrowed as he stares at her. With a quiet gasp, she uncovers the fear that has sat coldly in her stomach since she woke up.

“I am scared, Kurama. I am scared of what I could become.”

Her arms wrap themselves around her, trying to bring some fake sense of comfort, but her chest feels as hollow and terrified as always. She has tried for so, so long to pretend, to act that everything could be alright, but-

How can things ever be okay in a world like this? In a world where children are raised up for slaughter, sent off to fight the battles of old men who claim to know what’s best. Where they are brainwashed into following a cold doctrine that spares no heart for them, where their deaths are only remembered through the shallow carving of their name on unfeeling stone, where people are twisted and warped into monsters far beyond the bijuu that they sealed away.

She doesn’t realise that she is still talking, that these words are spilling out of her mouth like the blood her village has spilt for the sake of more power, spilling like the tears of the orphans as they march to the beat of a war they never asked for.

The Kyuubi listens.

She speaks of a world that was flawed, but had a system to try and correct those mistakes, to help the people who were taken advantage of by those in power, no matter how often they succeeded or failed. And god, they failed more often than not, she failed more often than not, money exchanging hands in pardoning handshakes, as all her hard work slipped down the drain of corruption and incompetence.

But the times they succeeded, the times they brought relief to the ones who had been grasped by greed, overshadowed all those moments. It gave her a reason to continue, to fight, because giving up was never, ever an option.

Finally her voice stumbles and collapses into a soundless mumble, and she realises that she is before his cage, knees wet from where she fell into a puddle. Kurama continues to stare at her, his gaze heavy against her skin.

Their eyes remained locked for what feels like an eternity, neither one moving to speak or shuffle. She distantly wonders what time it is, outside of her mind, and whether she’s overslept and is missing the academy. She wonders if the ANBU outside are trying to shake her awake, if they’ve told the Hokage, if they know what is happening.

Finally, he speaks.

“You claim to be a fighter for those who cannot fight, a voice for those who cannot speak, a chaser of freedom and justice for those who are captive. And yet, your hypocrisy glares you in the face, in your very life and body. You have become a jailor for those you claim to hate, for the system you so wish to overturn.

“How long, Nana, will you dither and hesitate to bring change? How long will you let yourself stew in complacency and false excuses? Your other-self met these challenges head on, died for them even, but here you are now, cowering in the face of adversary and a world that does not match your own. You allow these humans to push and guide you to become the very thing you hate. And you will let them.

“Because, Nana, while Elise was a fighter, you are a coward.”

His voice rumbles through her body, a gentle disdain for her and her words, but she wonders if he knows she can hear the quiet encouragement, the twisted push for her to finally choose. The Elise within her screams at the Kyuubi and his presumptions, at his false words and hidden intentions. She knows that she is still a child, a child in a world that wants to break her down into a weapon, a child that has no idea what she is doing, but wants to change everything for the better. She knows that Kurama is being purposefully cruel, that his words are meant to cut deep enough within her psyche to finally force herself to decide.

“You’re wrong,” she finally gasps out, a trembling warble that has him staring at her in amusement.

“Oh? How so?”

“I am not a coward by choice, but by circumstance. If I held the power to fight back, do you not believe I would? Maybe, back in the other world, I could have done so without the power or money to back me up. But here, where speaking out would get me thrown into mindless autonomy and acceptance? No. I cannot do anything.” Her voice steadily grew stronger in her words, a conviction rushing through her veins that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

This is her court room. This is her battlefield.

Words were always her weapon.

Convincing people was her specialty.

Kurama has no power here.

“But if you choose to help me, if you choose to guide me on how to gain such power, then I would be able to do what Elise would do. What I should do. And at the end, I could set you free from your bonds.”

“Is that a promise?” he mocks, and she grins, teeth sharp and vicious.

“No. It’s an offer. Contract was my back-up you know. So if I fail to do this, if I fail in my venture, I will release you regardless, and let you tear your way through my body.”

“Even if it killed you?”

“If I went back on my word, then living would not be something I deserve.”

His eyes look at her searchingly for a moment, heavy with hidden thoughts, before he finally throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing through the dilapidated court room like a gavel on wood.

“Very well then, little reformer. I shall help you in this journey. But know that I will not lead you there like a kit freshly born from the womb. You shall have to make the steps by yourself,” he said lowly, his mouth twisted in a threatening smile.

She nods, hands clenched into fists, and he lets out a low hum. As he does, her eyes begin to fall shut, heavy with exhaustion and stress. As she drifts off into unconsciousness, she hears Kurama’s voice speak up again.

“I look forward to seeing what this arrangement brings. Do not fail yourself.”

And just like that, everything disappears.

Her alarm rings shrilly, and Nana wakes up gasping, bolting upwards as she distantly notes the cold clamminess of her futon. Night sweats are the worst, she thinks absentmindedly, running over her memories again and again. Had that really happened? Had she truly met, argued with, and made a deal with the Kyuubi? She lets out a shuddering sigh, burying her face into her hands for a bare moment.

God, what is she even going to do? How will she train and prepare for everything ahead of her without alerting anyone? She knows nothing of ninjutsu, genjutsu, weaponry, and her limited experience in Krav Maga most certainly does not make her a taijutsu master either. She allows herself a few moments of wallowing, before forcing herself up to do her morning stretches. She’ll need to have a shower too, unless she wants to have gross night sweat clinging to her clothes all day, and she grimaces.

She steadfastly does not let herself think about what happened last night. Now is not the time.

“Running away again?” A voice pipes up, and she freezes, arms lifted up in a basic stretch.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Hm? Did you really believe I would simply wait for you to return? No. This way, I can be much more... helpful,” Kurama says, and she knows that if she could see him, he would be grinning.

“How so?” She grits out through clenched teeth, careful not to alert her constant observers.

“I’ve seen enough of the world to help guide you through it, little reformer. I may be unable to help you with the more... human aspects, but we’ll make a proper vixen out of you yet. And stop talking to yourself, you look ridiculous. Speak through your mind, silly child.”

Nana wants to scream, because of course, of course she’ll now have her snarky, yet wise teacher that every fanfic seems to have. She has to have at least some tropes filled, can’t go breaking all the boundaries after all.

“Well? Stop standing around like a lemon, and start stretching. No, forget those human techniques, use your back and limbs. A predator must be quick and nimble, while still forceful in their strikes. If you can’t kill an opponent in one strike, then what good are you?”

‘No. No killing.’

The amusement flees.

“Don’t be stupid. There is no room for mercy in this world, Nana. If you wish to reform, then you will have to remove your opponents. There are none of your fancy laws to protect you, no proper system to keep watch as you climb through the ranks. To succeed, you must kill. I will not sponsor a useless whelp who will fall in her first battle due to a misplaced sense of mercy.”

‘Naruto managed it.’

“But you aren’t him, are you? Do you honestly believe that he really managed to succeed by refusing to kill? This is not the same world you read about. Adapt, or die.”

She completes the rest of her stretches in silence, his words burning a hole in her mind. He’s right, in a horrible, twisted way, but the implications leave her reeling. She had decided at the start, from the very moment she woke up, that she would not kill. What would she be, if she did? A hypocrite. A murderer. The same person she abhors and would put behind bars.

She would do the dirty work for the same men she despises.

But if she does not, then she will die. And it will all be for nothing.

She acutely knows that this is how it starts. First, hesitance, then, reluctant acceptance. She’ll start to justify it, say that without it she can’t do what she has to. But how far will it go? How far will she let it go? At what point will the justifications become delusions, and the boundaries become limits?

When does she stop?

When does she cross the line?

When does she become a monster?

Nana hates this world for doing this to her, for forcing her to consider where the lines have to be blurred, just to survive. A human life is a human life, no matter what happened within it. She has no right to be judge, jury and executioner, no right to decide who lives and dies. Because once she starts doing that, she’ll begin to slip and slide down a slope she’ll never crawl out of.

And there’s no way to create boundaries, to have a failsafe that will stop her getting that far, because she’s a lawyer, and she knows how to manipulate words into a meaning that best suits her.

But she knows that if she runs away and lives out a private life, if by some miracle the Akatsuki, Konoha, anyone never manages to find her, she will be a bystander.

And maybe, that’s worse than taking action, because bystanders are what create dictatorships and wars, bystanders look away when bloodshed begins to paint their city red, bystanders close their eyes until they can never open them again.

She is standing on a tightrope with no right answer, and she knows that soon it will become slippery with blood. She will become weighed down by the sins of what she has to do. Of what she’ll justify to herself.

The future or stagnation.

Reform or injustice.

Her or them.

Nana’s fate has been sealed, and she’ll either live long enough to become a villain or have her mind collapse under guilt and regret.

“For reform,” Kurama whispers.

“For reform,” she echoes back.

She takes her first step on the tightrope.

Chapter Text

No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.

— Article 5 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

“What are your thoughts?”

The room is silent for a moment, before a loud sigh drags through the room.

“I think if you’re trying to alienate her, then you’re succeeding, Hokage-sama,” Nara Shikaku drawls out, looking at his leader with half-lidded eyes. The Hokage hums quietly, sharp gaze focused on the sleeping child within the crystal ball. It’s a fitful sleep, but the old leader cuts it off before Shikaku can spot anything else, gently draping fabric over the glass, as though he’s tucking in a child.

Shikaku wonders if Sarutobi is pretending, if this is his small attempt to give some distant affection. Aged hands fold neatly over the table, and the Jounin Commander turns his lazy gaze upwards, focusing back onto his illustrious leader.

What a farce.

What a drag.

“It was necessary,” Sarutobi says lowly, a cold detachment in his voice. The warmth in his eyes is gone, instead replaced with the cutting look of a Kage. Strong. Sure. Steadfast.

Stubborn, Shikaku’s mind whispers, but he shakes it off.

“It’s cruel,” he replies instead, because he’s never been one to hold back with his Kage, and he watches as he sighs softly.

“She could not remain with them, no matter their bond. It’s for the best.”

“For who? Her? Or the Village-?”

“As dear as she is, I am still the Hokage, Shikaku,” Sarutobi cuts off sharply, back straight and eyes narrowed. “And it is my duty to protect the Village. Yamamoto Ryuuji was seen with several suspected foreign agents, and is a known attendant to the meetings of the Konoha Liberation Group. Do you know what would be cruel? If I heeded Danzo’s advice, and took him into interrogation, before executing him for treason. Were it up to him, that group would have been cut down the moment they appeared.”

Shikaku swallows. The Konoha Liberation Group had been around for a few decades at the least, first popping up after the Second Shinobi War, in protest to the high civilian casualties. Primarily made up of civilians, they opposed all forms of Shinobi government and programmes, instead insisting on a civilian led democracy. He personally couldn’t help but be curious as to what that would entail, but well... as a Shinobi himself, he couldn’t very well show any interest.

Still, they’re mostly a nuisance, often used as the punchline to jokes in the barracks. However, some of the older war hawks seem to grow increasingly wary of them, with Shimura Danzo being the most vocal opponent to their continued existence. But Sarutobi continues to strike his repetitive suggestions of ‘Civil Correction’, arguing that the most they are achieving is annoying shopkeepers and hold signs that no-one looked twice at.

After all, they’re just civilians.

“I understand,” he says after a while, and Sarutobi nods slowly.

“While I find Danzo’s misgivings to be blown out of proportion, I cannot have Minato’s so- daughter around those that could potentially poison her mind. No, it was best to remove her from that situation, and place her with those that could foster good-will and loyalty to Konoha, while still letting her be a child for a while. This is her home, after all.”

Then why do you let her be ostracised when she walks on the streets, Shikaku wants to ask, why do you sit here and do nothing?

But it isn’t his place to question this, not now. Not after overstepping already. It’s a smart plan after all. Place her with children her age that can build unshakeable bonds with her, and show her the truth of the Will of Fire. Still, he wonders if this truly is the best course of action. If she’ll be able to bond with peers that have probably been poisoned by the thoughts and words of their parents.

Next year, he thinks to himself, next year I’ll tell Shikamaru to talk to her.

“...should we not assign an adult to interact with her? At the very least, if she is shown some positive attention from an adult-figure, surely she would find it easier to become... attached?”

“There have been offers, but the Council has been... unwilling. There are worries that... certain clan members could use her to their own advantage. Others fear that her parentage may accidentally come to light should she associate with those close to her parents,” the Hokage answers slowly, before giving a long sigh, reaching towards his pipe.  “But nonetheless, you are right. Without the civilians she befriended, there is certainly a higher chance for... unsavoury sorts to attach themselves to her.”

Shikaku watches him take a long drag of the pipe, before letting smoke spill past his lips thoughtfully.

“Hm... I wonder,” he mutters quietly, and Shikaku raises a curious eyebrow.

“Do you have someone in mind?” He asks, and the old man gives him a gentle smile, but amusement sparks behind his eyes.

“Tell me, Shikaku, is Gai currently on the rota for any long-term missions?”

Nana’s week after waking up Kurama passes fairly uneventfully. He’s a strict task-master in the moments where she hopes she’s alone, practicing lunges and swipes until her legs shake from exhaustion and her muscles flutter from the strain. She lets herself collapse the first time, unused to such strain, but Kurama nags and shames her “pitiful endurance” until she forces herself up again. While she does appear to have the original Naruto’s stamina, her endurance for the repetitive movements is absolutely awful. But still, she persists, even if the slightest bit of jagged movement causes her entire body to ache.

She is by no means perfect, but Kurama grumbled out that her form was ‘passable for a new-born kit’, which she supposed was better than nothing. However, all the technique in the world would be useless if she didn’t know how to apply it in combat, and the Academy didn’t start sparring until second year, mostly to give the civilians a chance to learn the rudimentary basics first.

The Academy Taijutsu is... strange. Every time she went through the motions in class, every time she watched the other children do it, all she could see were the stumbling movements of children, children learning how to fight, how to grapple, how to defend themselves from the enemies this village will force them to face.

She tries not to vomit the first time she notices it, and tells herself she’ll get used to it.

(She never does, and her hatred only continues to burn. How dare they? How dare they prepare them for the wars that they created?)

Slowly, time begins to creep past, and she watches as autumn fades into the beginning of winter. She turns seven in silence, the streets quiet on the tenth of October for the national Day of Mourning. She does not step out of her apartment the entire day, instead focusing on the books (propaganda, her mind scoffs) she’s been assigned to read, occasionally taking breaks to do some more kata. When she wakes up the next morning however, there is a basket with a bright red bow wrapped around it, a small note stuck to it. She approaches it carefully, grabbing a spatula from the kitchen to toss at it, just to make sure it isn’t... trapped.

The spatula bounces harmlessly against it, clattering to the floor. She waits for something to explode.

Nothing happens. Kurama forces her to wait another ten minutes, just to make sure it isn’t time delayed, before she can finally open it. The basket is good quality, finely woven and covered by an orange blanket. Nervously, she tugs the cloth away to peer at the inside.

Her stomach turns, and bile bubbles on her tongue.

Kunai, shuriken, ninja wire, hand and arm guards, and other rudimentary tools that any shinobi in training should have.

They’re children-sized, a tag boasting of their quality for academy students and genin.

Tears spring to her eyes as she lets the basket fall to the floor, clasping her hands around her mouth. Whether it’s to stop her from vomiting or screaming, she doesn’t know. Kurama is quiet as her eyes stray towards a piece of paper that flutters out of the basket alongside the tools.

Happy Birthday, Nana! – Sarutobi Hiruzen, Sandaime Hokage

Her fingers tighten, nails digging into her skin. Rage churns in her stomach, hot and heavy, but the disgust and horror drowns it before she can act on it.

It’s a taunt. A reminder. A promise.

You belong to us, the basket says. You will do as you are told. You are ours.

Nana chokes out a sob.

She’s seven, and her birthday present is weapons.

“They’ll never give up, you know,” Kurama says quietly, a poisonous kindness in his voice. “Best to learn how to use these so you can wield them against-”

“I shouldn’t have to learn how to use them,” she hisses out hotly, hands still covering her mouth to muffle the sounds. “No-one should have to- they’re children-sized! For children!”

Her voice lilts up in soft mania, fingers trembling as the realisation of what her life is now, of who she is and what she has to do crashes into her again.

“What did you expect, Nana? Cakes? Dolls? A pretty new dress maybe?” He spits out mockingly, words curling with frustration. “You are not her anymore. You are a shinobi.”

“I don’t want to be,” she whispers brokenly, tears dribbling over her tensed hands. “I never wanted to be.”

“Since when has the world cared about what you want, Nana? Did you honestly believe that you’d have any other choice?”

No, but she had... hoped. It’s easy to pretend the Academy is just primary school with more propaganda and fighting thrown in, it’s easy to look away from the glint of headbands and bloody knives, it’s easy to close her eyes and place herself in a place away from here.

But being given physical proof of where she is, of what she has to do, has ripped her away from that fantasy. The cold metal glints from its place on the floor, edges sharp enough to scratch the wooden boards.

“Take them.”

She wants to refuse, wants to turn away and pretend again, but-

Nana is past the point of doing so. Maybe she was never able to in the first place.

Her fingers unlatch from her face, and she reaches out to hesitantly touch a kunai. It burns her skin as she forces her hand to close around the handle.

“Stunning, is it not!” A voice calls out cheerfully, and she snaps to attention, pushing herself to her feet and moving her body to strike.

“Oho! How marvellous! The youthful Nana already has such magnificent reflexes!”

No.

No, no, no, no-

A blinding grin on a joyful face stares straight at her, a green-covered body standing proudly in front of her open front door.

“How long were you there?” She blurts out, and his grin gets even wider.

“Since you opened the basket! However you seemed so touched by the gesture that I thought it would be the height of unyouthfulness to interrupt a flower such as yourself! Your fervent mumblings truly betrayed the height of your joy!” Tears spring to his eyes as he sniffs loudly, hand moving to give her a thumbs up. “I am truly honoured to be given the opportunity to teach you!”

The world freezes, and her body goes cold.

“Teach?” She hears herself saying, watching as the man’s bowl cut moves rapidly in a nod.

“Indeed! Our illustrious Hokage believed you would be lonely and that some extra support from the Green Beast himself could encourage you to come out of your shell!”

A honey covered trap, smoothed over with promises of companionship and acceptance, just to hide the drowning stickiness that will grab her and never let go.

“Clever. Very, very clever,” Kurama growls out, hostility clear in his voice. “They realised that leaving you alone would cause trouble, so they seek to bind you to... this.”

“Gai-san,” tumbles out of her lips, eyes still staring at the man who has been tasked to chain her to the village. He smiles back in delight.

“You know who I am? How flattering! My reputation has stretched even to the ears of such a wonderful flower such as yourself!”

Nana swallows, and forces her lips to turn into an excited smile. Her cheeks ache from where her fingers clenched, but she does not let her smile drop. She feels her eyes curl up, and she beams at Gai.

“Of course! A taijutsu master such as yourself deserves all the recognition in the world!” She chatters enthusiastically, motioning for him to come inside. He blubbers at her words, babbling out something concerning youth and honour, but he walks inside, carefully stepping around the basket.

“I’m so sorry about the mess! I wasn’t expecting visitors!” She says cheerfully as she clears away the rest of the tools back into the basket, trying to pretend her hands aren’t shaking.

She wonders if this is punishment for not interacting with her peers, for shying away at the edges and not integrating like a proper shinobi should. She wonders if it’s because they’ve noticed her narrowed eyes whenever the Will of Fire comes up, if they’ve seen her contempt when she watches genin walk by, if they’ve heard her hushed insults towards Konoha and its leadership. Her heart drops at the thought, fear and worry slowly strangling her heart, but she just smiles wider.

“You said you’re here to teach me? That’s amazing! I can’t believe you would even consider me as a pupil!”

“But of course! Your talent at the Academy has not gone unnoticed! You move far more fluidly than your peers, and the Hokage thought some additional guidance could allow you to bloom into a wonderful Konoha kunoichi!” His exuberance echoes through her apartment, but she can barely hear him.

They know she’s holding back. They know she’s been training secretly.

How could she ever have fooled herself otherwise?

Konoha is ‘1984’ with better technology, more violent people, and magic that allows them to literally scour through your mind.

She’s absolutely fucked.

“Calm down. Do not give up now, or have you forgotten out bargain?” Kurama growls out, and she takes a steadying breath. Gai cocks his head at her movement, but does not ask as she gives a small giggle.

“Really? I’ve only been doing some additional exercises! I want to be the best shinobi ever, so that I can protect Konoha!” The lies burn on her tongue, dripping heavily with concealed contempt, but to her ears it sounds as sweet as sugar. She prays it sounds the same to Gai.

“What a noble goal! How marvellous! I shall do my best to help you achieve this goal, little turtle!” He booms out, large hands grabbing her shoulders in glee. His eyes sparkle with tears and excitement, but it is the gentleness of his touch that causes her mind to stumble. Touch-starved, something whispers in the back of her head, and her smile wobbles.

Nana hates Konoha for this. For ripping her from her family, for isolating her to the point of madness, only to gift her with someone who will guide her with kindness and encouragement, until she’ll never want to leave.

That’s how Stockholm syndrome works, after all. She’s seen it enough times to know their angle, and she wants to vomit because she knows that she’s susceptible to it. Even just the action of Gai touching her shoulder is enough to make her want to weep and ask for comfort. The pet names, the compliments, the thrice-damned kindness...

Nana is terrified.

“Calm,” Kurama advises her, and she swallows again.

“Tea?” She offers up, and Gai nods happily.

“If you have any, then certainly! We have much to discuss!”

Her stomach flips again, but she bustles to the kitchen and starts heating the water.

“Please make yourself comfortable!” She calls out, eyes focusing on the curl of steam and not the flash of colour she can barely spot in the corner of her vision.

“Such a youthful host! I am truly blessed to have a thoughtful student such as yourself!”

She laughs at the words, but her reflection in the metal of the stove shows the emptiness of her face. Nana twists it back into one of excitement, and hurriedly grabs the tea and mugs.

“Is mint alright?”

“Of course!”

Her hands shake as she pours the tea, a roiling knot of nervousness and fear curled up between her lungs. She just has to hold on until Gai leaves, she tells herself, letting the sharp tang of mint sting her eyes.

Just hold on.

She takes the mugs to the rickety plastic table Gai is seated by and smiles apologetically.

“Sorry about the delay!” She’s stalling with politeness and platitudes and she knows it. Her heart feels as though it’s about to leap out of her chest.

“Have no worries, Nana-chan! Now, as I said, we have some things to discuss!” He takes one of the mugs and sips cautiously. Condensation beads up on the rim, and she finds her eyes caught on it rather than Gai’s own face.

“So you said, Gai-san- ah, or would you prefer sensei?” Her voice is steady and calm, hitching in all the right places to convey excitement.

“However you wish! I would not wish to impose any title that you find uncomfortable with!”

Nana’s hands curl around her mug, and she looks at the liquid thoughtfully.

“Go with –san. Sensei is more familiar, and ties you further to him. He is no longer just Gai-san, but Gai-sensei. Your teacher.” Kurama’s advice is tinged with caution, and her fingers tighten. She hadn’t even thought of that. She bites her tongue, quiet fury bubbling up in her throat, but she forces herself to relax.

“Gai-san then, at least until I’m worthy enough to call you sensei!” She titters hesitantly, and his eyes soften.

“Of course, whatever makes you comfortable. However you are already worthy, Nana-chan, do not doubt yourself so,” he says kindly, a gentle smile on his face. Her heart hammers furiously at it, because god, it’s already starting. She can already feel the threads of attachment and fondness start to curl and wind around her neck like a noose.

Nana ducks her head shyly, and gives him a stuttering grin.

“Thank you, Gai-san. I will try my best. What was it you wished to discuss?”

“Ah, mostly the basics! Scheduling, training routines, areas where you believe you need more help in, and so on! I am here to assist you however you wish!” He offers up, and she nods slowly.

It’s a wide range of services, and already her mind is turning. Despite the fear that pulses in her chest, she wonders if she can use this to her advantage. Training from Gai after all would be immensely helpful in helping her become strong enough to run. It’s a head start, a boon wrapped in thorns and danger, and if she wants to utilise it as best as she can, she’ll have to tread carefully.

“Be careful, Nana,” Kurama whispers, and she smiles in acknowledgement.

Just treat it like a negotiation, she tells herself. Professional, approachable, and not suspicious at all.

It worked in her old world. Now she just hopes it’ll work with ninjas as well.

Discussing training plans and times takes a lot longer than she expects, and she soon finds her tea growing cold as she focuses on clashing schedules and pretending not to be holding a breakdown at bay. The sun is setting by the time they’ve finally hashed out an agreement, a basic training routine for her to do at home alone, and a promise for her to not use anything she learns in the Academy. She nods rapidly, and Gai grins widely at her enthusiasm.

“Wonderful! In that case, I do believe I’ve taken up much of your time already! I look forward to teaching you, Nana!” He says as he stands up from the table, and she slowly walks him over to her front door.

“Ah, I look forward to it as well! Thank you so much!” She forces out, praying that he’ll finally, finally leave. He lingers for a bare moment, looking her over one more time, before giving a decisive nod.

“I shall see you on Tuesday then! Farewell, Nana! Enjoy your evening!”

“Goodbye Gai!”

She waves at him until he disappears in a flash of leaves, at which point she shuts her door hurriedly and collapses to the floor. Tears leap to her eyes, and she bites back a sob, balling her hands into fists as she curls up. She doesn’t even know why she’s reacting so strongly, why the knowledge that Konoha has tightened their leash on her is making it so fucking difficult to breathe. Nana had known this was going to happen, sooner or later. These people have been trained how to spot the slightest misstep since they were kids; of course they were going to notice her behaviour.

God, she’s such an idiot. Too confident, too sure in her own experiences at trickery and misdirection. People play by a different set of rules here, and she has to start learning them, accepting them, no matter how much her entire soul screams at her for doing so.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” She whispers, words barely a wisp of breath.

“That depends. Will you continue to delude yourself, or accept what must be done? Will you dance to the tune they are playing, or will you change it to suit you?”

She doesn’t reply.

But that doesn’t matter.

They both already know her answer.

The Hokage taps his fingers gently against his desk, looking at Gai with an unreadable expression. He decides to smile even wider, and can’t stop his amusement when the Hokage’s own lips quirk into a small grin. Making people smile is always a delightful hobby, and he sincerely hopes he’ll be able to help his newest student smile without all that hesitation.

“So? How was it?” His leader asks, and Gai’s smile softens.

“She initially seemed hesitant, but became quite excited once she found out I would teach her. She seems a bit formal though, as she insists on calling me Gai-san! I think she has been terribly lonely, and is delighted to receive some company again, but does not quite know how!”

It’s a quiet jab at his decision to remove Nana from her home, one that he was vehemently against once he found out, but the Hokage only sighs.

“Believe me, Gai, I know. That’s also why I chose you. You’re an enthusiastic, well-adjusted shinobi. Someone like you could truly help her.”

In what way, he wants to prod, but instead he grins again. It isn’t his place to question these things, and whether he helps her socially or in the shinobi arts doesn’t really matter. He’ll help how he can, and hope she’ll let him build a bond with her.

“Of course! Anything for the little Nana and Konoha!” He cheers, and the Hokage nods, the small smile returning.

“Thank you, Gai. Before you leave, would you mind telling me how she liked her present?”

He perks up, eyes gleaming in joy at the memory of her reaction.

“She loved it, Sandaime! The little thing was practically crying in happiness!” Gai recalls fondly, and the Hokage nods, eyes softening.

“I’m glad. Though I’m sure a certain someone will be even happier to hear that,” he mumbles in bemusement, eyes flicking to a spot on the ceiling. Gai laughs boisterously, and stands up to leave.

“I’ll make sure to let my eternal rival know in detail! Why he made you write the note however, I do not understand! Ah! Unless he wishes to be as mysterious as ever... how cool!” The Hokage chuckles loudly at his words, before waving him off in dismissal.

“Thank you for your report. Oh, and Gai? Try to get her to call you sensei. It should help her feel more comfortable. Keep me updated, yes?”

“Of course!” He says, before slipping out of the office, smiling as he went. Nana had agreed to meet him every other day after the Academy for training, and he was looking forward to testing her abilities. Gai turns a corner, and grins at the man waiting for him.

Kakashi leans lazily against the wall, flicking through that awful book he insists on reading, barely even looking up to glance at him.

“Why hello, my eternal rival! What a surprise to find you here!”

“Maa, well, you know how it is...” he replies half-heartedly, hand flicking a page over. “Secret missions to do, and all that.”

“She loved it, you know? Though I think if you had given it to her in person, and actually signed it, her reaction would have been even more youthful!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kakashi says, boredom in his words, but Gai has known his best friend for a lot longer than Kakashi would probably want to admit.

“Come now, no need to be shy! It was a wonderful gift, truly befitting a budding kunoichi such as herself! She’s already shaping up to be quite clever!” Gai declares cheerfully, eyes catching on the way his eternal rival’s hand pauses. He wonders if he’ll finally admit it, if he’ll get over his own stubbornness and maybe even help him out in training the girl, orders from the Elders be damned.

Kakashi flips a page, and looks up at Gai.

“Maa, did you say something?”

Gai chuckles. Of course, his rival would never give up that easily. But neither will he.

“No, nothing important, Kakashi. Good luck on your next mission, my rival. We still need to have a rematch!” He exclaims loudly, grinning at the non-committal noise Kakashi makes.

“Excellent! Until we meet again!”

“...Bye Gai.”

As he continues on, he thinks he can barely hear Kakashi speak up again. But when he looks back, he’s gone, not even a stray leaf betraying the use of shunshin.

Gai grins.

“Don’t you worry, my friend. I’ll look after her.”

Chapter Text

Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law.

— Article 6 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

Mitarashi Anko is not a nice person. She knows this. The village knows this. Her enemies know it before having their heads blown off. So when Gai approaches her for a favour, she laughs her head off.

“Me? You want me, T&I Anko, to go speak to a snot-nosed brat about the transition process?” She cackles, watching as Gai shrugs, his smile never faltering.

“I figured you would be the best! She seems to appreciate candour, and I know you never hesitate to let your voice be heard, my youthful co-worker! It is most refreshing!”

The worst thing is that he’s not even being sarcastic or cruel. He genuinely appreciates her startling lack of tact and refusal to follow common social rules. She’s called many things, but refreshing is not one of them.

“Yeah, well, kids usually don’t take too well to anything except coddling these days, so come on, why else are you asking me? Why not Mayuri, or Himeko?” She leans forwards expectantly, eyes narrowed in anticipation. Gai is nicer than... well, most people. He treats her like a comrade, watches her back and doesn’t hesitate to pull her into conversation, even though they usually travel in different social groups. It’s why she doesn’t immediately shoot him down, or set her snakes on him for trying to be sneaky.

“Well, you see, I know you the best out of the others. Also, Mayuri is currently on a mission, and Himeko is in the hospital. I checked with others, but none of them appear to be available. Anko, I would not ask this of you if there were any other choice, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable or overstep my boundaries.” His voice is serious, but still kind, and she hums at his words.

It’s not like she truly minds talking to his student, nor is she offended that he’s asking this of her. The hesitation comes from the fact that she honestly probably isn’t the best person to talk to about this. Yes, she knows the procedure, yes, she knows how it works, but it’s all fairly recent. After all, it was her old master who initially helped her with this, who gave her vials and hormones until the dysphoria wasn’t as sharp, who she trusted to do the surgery.

And then he betrayed the village, betrayed her, and she was forced to pick up the pieces. She’s happy with her life where it is now, but that part is still painful, throbbing like an open, angry wound. And yet... this is Gai speaking. Dumb, goofy, silly Gai, who always has a kind word for everyone.

Anko lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Well okay then, I guess I’ll do it,” she says long-sufferingly, and Gai grins in delight, teeth sparkling.

“Thank you, my friend! It is most youthful of you to do so!” He declares, and she waves him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m amazing, I’m awesome, I know. You better buy me all the dango I want after this, you got that?”

“Of course! I’d be happy to! Would you be free to speak to her today?”

“Today?!” Anko squawks, and he nods enthusiastically. Well, it is technically her day off, and she only has to pop in to T&I shortly, so...

“Alright, alright, don’t you have a mission to go to? Fuck off already, I’ll meet your brat later, after her academy,” she mutters, ignoring Gai’s cheers with a practiced ear. He gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder, before turning around and departing, a joyful skip in his step. Anko rolls her eyes at his dramatics, but grins despite herself.

Perhaps this could be interesting after all.

Nana stares bleary eyed at the exuberant jounin before her, trying not to freak the fuck out that he’s in her apartment.

Uninvited.

At 5am in the morning.

She’s no stranger to early starts and all-nighters, though granted, most of them were during her overworked time as a 40 year old lawyer. As Nana, she’s woken up consistently at 7am, either because of chores that had to be completed in the orphanage, or more recently, to go to the Academy at 8am. Still, despite her experience, she’s quite sure she and Gai arranged to meet tomorrow. In the afternoon. Away from the only place she can let down her guard for only a slight moment.

It is exhausting to be so alert all the time, particularly as a seven year old child with attention problems. She had hoped she’d be free of the ADHD that plagued her in her past life, but no, apparently not. She collapses into bed almost the moment she returns home, so tired from the constant focus she forces herself to hold on herself and the way she acts. And while she knows, she knows, her apartment is under constant watch, she can duck into her tiny windowless bathroom, sit in her shower, and drop everything.

There, she lets herself panic and hyperventilate. Panic attacks and constant anxiety are just another facet of this life, brought on by constant paranoia and scrutiny, and she hates it. Kurama is silent while she collapses, and she’s grateful for it, because if she opened her mouth for anything except breathing, she’d probably scream relentlessly.

Konoha is a heavy weight slowly drowning her, and she is only seven years old. She can’t imagine what effect this will have on her as she grows older. Remaining to change the system as the Hokage is slowly fading as an option. This paranoia will kill her steadily, carefully snaking around her heart until she either has a mental breakdown and ends it all, or goes insane and has someone else do it for her.

Nana swallows at the thoughts, and tries to turn her attention back onto the beaming man in front of her, hoping he did not see her grimace or otherwise twitch in a way that would reveal anything. Her features are forcibly schooled into a small, delighted smile, and she leans forward to greet her... (jailor, detainer, handler-) teacher.

“Good morning, Nana-chan! I apologise for waking you this early, however I have a short mission today that will not be completed until late this evening, and I wished to drop off some things before I left! I would have completed this with you tomorrow, however more time to train and bond is most youthful! As such, I have taken the liberty of purchasing you some new clothes for these sessions, as I believe your current ones are second-hand, yes? Additionally, I wished to introduce you to someone similar to you, so that you could discuss your options for the future!” His excitement isn’t even curbed by the early morning, and it takes her a few moments to process all of the words.

First; Gai is going on a mission. She staunchly does not want to think about what the mission entails, so she immediately discards it.

Second; he had bought her clothes. And she has no doubt in her mind that they will be her exact size, with some room for her to grow. Sure, fine, if he can break into her apartment at 5am, he can steamroll through the façade of privacy she keeps trying to cling to.  

Third; she’s going to meet someone new. Someone like her. Her mind rushes to the most prominent feature of hers: having a demon sealed within her, but she quickly shoves that thought away. The closest Jinchuuriki is Gaara, and she doubts that either village would be best pleased to host a foreign weapon.

“Now?” She croaks out, unwilling to quite ask who yet, and Gai shakes his head, hair flying around his face.

“Of course not, my dear ward! She will meet you later on, after the Academy! I wish I could accompany you, particularly as your current guardian, however the duty of a shinobi is never complete!” He says apologetically, though he still injects some enthusiasm when talking about his ‘duty’.

It makes her feel ill.

“Oh. What is it for?” Her voice is hesitant, but he doesn’t even falter.

“Ah, it is in regards to your current gender expression. Of course, we as shinobi value every person within our ranks, and are eager to make transgender or other gender non-conforming individuals as comfortable as possible for their duty! As such, I have asked one such individual to speak to you about the process, should you wish to transition. You are still young obviously, and you would discuss it in detail with professionals, however I thought you would appreciate someone more knowledgeable than I for this!”

Well who would have thought? Pros of Konoha: not transphobic. Cons: fucking everything else. But she appreciates the gesture, she supposes. It would certainly make her more comfortable, but-

The thought of having Konoha have some leverage or hold over her is... worrying. Her reliance on the village that wants to twist her into a criminal is already sickening, but this is a tie that seems thicker and heavier. It is a gift and poison all at once. It says: we can help you, but only if you follow us like a good child soldier.

“Nana,” Kurama says softly, and she nods slightly, both to Gai and her... friend? Tenant? Partner in justice?

“Be careful.”

As always, he knows just what to say to send her nerves haywire, but she pushes his concern away for now, ignores the bubbling heat of anxiety, and focuses back on Gai.

“That would be lovely! Thank you so much, Gai-san!” He beams at her answer, and before she knows it, he sweeps her up into a quick hug. She tries not to stiffen, tries not to feel the prickling of warmth of skin-contact and the way it makes her eyes sting with desperate, longing tears. She wants to reach up and hug back, but she can’t.

She can’t let herself get attached, not to such an obvious degree of manipulation. It makes her feel sick, how willing the Hokage is to cater to the vulnerabilities of a lonely child, isolated from her peers and the world around her. He has sent her a guardian figure for her to latch on, whose ecstatic devotion to the village will transfer to her and make her the perfect weapon. Her stomach churns angrily, and she wrenches her eyes shut.

“I am gladdened by your acceptance! I hope she is truly helpful, Nana-chan! She may be peculiar, and has been through much in life, but she was happy to agree to my request!”

Yet another favour, his words revealing a different meaning than their surface.

Translation: I asked a fellow shinobi for a favour, and you are now in our debt. Are we not generous?

You are ours.

“I look forward to it!” Comes tumbling out her mouth, said with a cheer she cannot feel, swallowed by the yawning pit in her chest.

She hates them.

“Excellent! I have left the clothes on your table, if it does not fit, please let me know tomorrow! If you also feel open to it, I would be happy to hear about your meeting today! But that is up to you, Nana-chan! Farewell, and until tomorrow!” Gai calls out happily, releasing her from the hug and disappearing in a whirl of leaves. She barely hears her door open and shut, too quick to even be seen by the common eye, and she lets her body tense up.

“Fuck,” she whispers, cold and harsh. “Fuck.”

She cannot bring herself to fall asleep, not after the conversation she’s just had. Not after seeing how quickly Konoha continued to place chains on her. She wanders into her kitchen aimlessly, but her eyes are immediately drawn to the table.

There’s a bag waiting for her on the kitchen table, innocuous enough, and Nana feels her hands tremble as she opens it up. The first thing she notices is the quality, and she wants to grimace. There is no price-tag, but she can guess how expensive this must have been.

The clothes are simple enough, a sleeveless green turtleneck that flares out by the hips, giving the impression of a comfortable, yet easy to move in dress. It’s accompanied by leggings and bandages, as well as an Academy sized weapons pouch and a subtly orange belt. There are arm guards and plated fingerless gloves, with a length of green ribbon tucked inside. A note tumbles out, and she picks it up carefully, reading it with a blank face.

I hope you like it! If not, let me know, and I shall endeavour to accompany you to find more suitable wear!

A smiling turtle drawing accompanies the note, and she lets it flutter from her fingers.

Nana pulls the clothes on, ties her hair up with the ribbon, and hopes her tears are mistaken by the ANBU outside as tears of happiness.

For some reason, the clothes feel like a brand.

Nana arrives to the Academy relatively early, unable to stand another moment in her tainted apartment. Normally she tries to drag out as much time as possible before forcing herself to go there, unable to stand the proximity to the Hokage’s tower, to the constant reminder of what her future career will be, or what they are all training to do. But today is different, her room too cloying and threatening after the ordeal this morning. So instead, she makes her way to school after eating breakfast and doing some simple stretches. Kurama remains quiet, and she imagines he’s deep in thought, trying to come up with some sort of plan.

His silence is unsettling, and she wants to laugh at the irony of it all. She feels more comfortable seeking comfort from the being that killed her parents and half the village, than the man who has greeted her with smiles and gifts. Her stomach twists again, and she prays her day gets better.

It doesn’t, of course.

Nana hasn’t necessarily been bullied in the Academy. It’s the same ostracization and isolation she’s used to, but there’s a meaner edge to it. The adults are comfortable to pretend she doesn’t exist, eyes staring right through her and barely looking at her beyond an annoyed scowl. Children, however, are different. They copy their parents, but they know something is wrong too. She seems to be in a class full of mostly civilian borns, and she realises that the year she is in is a type of foundation year for those not raised in Shinobi families. The only exception is a young Uchiha girl, gifted enough to start earlier than her peers, but still too young to join the official classes. There are several of classes like this, and by the end of it, only a handful altogether remain, weeded out by the tests and stress of the class.

As a result, the children are more... fervent in making sure she knows she’s not wanted, than perhaps their shinobi counterparts would be. When she walks in that morning, she spots some of her classmates at the desk she usually sits at, scrawling something from the ink that’s been poured on her desk.

A vase of flowers sits in the puddle of ink.

They’re eight years old, almost nine, too young to really know the meaning of that, but it still makes her pause, caught in the doorway and the classroom. This has happened before, trash and carvings making their way to her bag, her work, her chair. But this is the first time they’ve put the flowers.

Somehow, she doesn’t think it will be the last.

Nana doesn’t want to confront them, not yet, so she turns around, scurries off to the bathroom instead. She’ll need toilet paper to clean it up after all. And if she takes her time to unwind the paper from the roll, then that’s her business. Class is about to start by the time she returns, and she can see the smug smirks of the children around her. Dark smudges decorate several of their hands, and she wonders how many took the opportunity to right obscenities on her desk.

As usual, the chuunin instructor says nothing. He doesn’t even look in her direction.

G E T  O U T

B I T C H

D R O P  O U T  A L R E A D Y

How inane. How utterly, fucking stupid. She throws the paper down onto her desk and watches the ink slowly lap up the roll, distorting the kanji into an unrecognisable mess. The wood is stained beneath the ink, and she knows it’ll never be able to be scrubbed away. So she settles in wiping it up just enough so her books and notes don’t get ruined. As she wipes, her fingers catch on new grooves in the desk. Nana traces them slowly to figure out their meaning, and pauses when she does.

N O O N E  L I K E S  Y O U  N A R U T O

She clenches her teeth at the sight of her deadname scratched into wood forever, hands trembling. Nana has asked the chuunin instructor countless times to use her name, the name she chose, but he always looks at her disinterestedly, eyebrow raised, and counters with: “Well it’s on your birth certificate and enrolment papers.”

It is this apathy towards her that infuriates her, the cold and distant stares she always feels when she isn’t looking, the instructor using the wrong name and ignoring her when her hand is up, the way the civilians don’t ever speak to her beyond the basics. It’s the isolation that kills her slowly, that makes her such a perfect target to manipulate, and she wants to scream. Nana is sure the Hokage knows about her instructor, and he will do nothing about it, because it’s perfect in pushing her towards those he picks.

She is a puppet, a pawn, a weapon for them to bend and break until she’s finally the perfect Konoha soldier.

For a second, Nana almost stands up and leaves. If she skipped, would the instructor even stop her? Would her guards? Would the Hokage?

What would happen if she stood up and walked out of the gates into the beyond?

“Sit down, and wipe those stupid thoughts from your mind, you idiot,” Kurama growls lowly, and she tastes blood. She’s bitten her cheek.

Why? She asks silently. Why should I?

“Because we have an agreement, you little brat. And if you get captured and locked up, then you’re useless to me and yourself. So sit down, shut up, and take notes.”

Nana does as she’s told, places her books mechanically onto her defiled desk, and starts to write down the droning words of the teacher. Her classmates send giggles and smirks in her direction, but she doesn’t react.

Her body burns with the desire to tear and destroy, but she swallows it down, empties her mind until nothing but honeyed words of Konohan history and the best way to calculate the trajectory of a kunai to someone’s jugular fills the carefully constructed void.

The day slips by quickly, and soon, it is time to leave. Her books have black smudges on them from the ink she couldn’t quite wipe up fully, and she stares at it blankly, copper filling her mouth again. As she gathers her stuff to leave, the instructor calls out to her.

Willingly.

“Uzumaki-san.”

She looks up, and sees the indifference on his face.

“Yes?”

“We do not tolerate students damaging school property. You will be required to remain here until you have properly cleaned up after yourself.”

Nana’s hand balls into fists, and she almost launches herself at him verbally, wants to use the words that flutter so naturally on her tongue to tear this fucker apart-

But she can’t. So instead she’ll use a different excuse.

“Could I come in early tomorrow instead? I have a meeting set up for me by my guardian, Maito Gai-san.”

He frowns, brow furrowing disbelievingly at her statement. For a moment, she thinks he’ll refuse and keep her here anyway, but instead he nods sharply.

“Very well. But I expect you here tomorrow and the desk clean. Is that understood?”

“...yes, Teru-sensei.”

He turns and leaves without looking at her, and she finishes packing her bag, seething at demands. How dare he. They both knew she was not at fault, but they also both knew that he didn’t give a shit either.

She hurries out before she smashes a chair to pieces out of rage.

Like her first day here, most people have left already, leaving the playground empty apart from a few stragglers. Gai had said that she would meet his colleague after school, but she can’t spot anyone that would seem like a Shinobi.

A hand falls on her shoulder.

She swivels around, tries to grab the hand and twist it, but the person it belongs to dances out of her reach.

“Oho, so the little turtle can snap. Your self-awareness is absolute shit, kid.”

Mitarashi Anko stares at her with a predatory gleam in her eyes, and Nana wonders how the fuck Gai convinced her to do this.

(A smaller part of her rears back in confusion, mouthing: Anko is trans? It’s kind of nice to know that there are options.)

“I’m seven,” she says in response, and Anko snorts.

“Ain’t an excuse. At your age, I was already apprenticed and tearing through guts,” she replies lightly, and Nana feels her stomach turn. That’s right. Anko tortures people for a living. How delightful.

The discomfort settles like a stone in her throat, because once again, she’s next to someone whose actions would have shocked her old world, and she is under no illusion that Anko has done gruesome things for the sake of Konoha.

Torture, Nana thinks, is almost worse than murder.

She swallows, and Anko grins.

“I’m Mitarashi Anko, Gai sent me over.”

“Ah... Uzumaki Nana.”

“Well? We gonna chat or stand around like lemons? I’m wasting my break on you kid, and once the time is up, I’m leaving, Gai be damned.”

“Lead the way,” Nana says weakly, and the woman grabs hold of her again. The world flits by, and suddenly she finds both of them in front of a dango stand, her stomach churning from the suddenness of the movement.

“Oi, get me my regular, yeah?” She shouts to the stand-owner, who gives her a grin and a thumbs up. Anko looks at her expectantly, before snorting again and gently shoving her to a nearby bench. She plonks herself down and watches the... interrogator (torturer, her brain reminds her) pick up her sweets. She does not offer her one, and she’s thankful for it.

“Well then, Nana-chan,” Anko starts, voice smooth and as sweet as her dango, “let’s have a chat.”

Nana squirms under the young woman’s scrutiny, the wide smile that seems more like a baring of teeth, the stiff faint scent of blood and pain on her skin.

“What about?” She asks timidly, and Anko hums while taking a large bite of her food.

“You. Your plans for the future. The process of transitioning, if ya want to do it. Just a bit of general advice from Anko-nee-sama,” she declares, waving her stick wildly in the air, and Nana nods softly. The kunoichi takes another bite before continuing.

“So, I don’t know how much you know about the system, but normally, at your age, your guardians notify the Academy and then the hospital. A gender therapist would then come and see you and your guardians, and you’d begin to discuss what possibilities you have, stuff like blockers and how to handle dysphoria if you get it. Hormones are brought up once you turn twelve, but you don’t take them until another assessment by the therapist. Surgery really depends on the person, but it’s usually restricted until your body fully develops. There’s only been like, two people who detransitioned, but it’s mainly just for precautions and shit like that. If you graduate the Academy and enter the ranks, then all costs are covered by us.” Anko counts off her fingers as she rattles off procedure, voice noticeably bored.

“Any questions?”

“How would I go about making an appointment? Since I don’t really have guardians...” Nana starts, but the older woman cuts her off.

“Gai is now your guardian officially, so he’ll help you out with that stuff. Same with signing off on documents and other bureaucratic fuckery, at least until you graduate. After that, your jounin sensei will sign off for that,” she explains, tapping her bare dango sticks on the bench.

Nana mulls it over. It's fairly straight-forward, and if she's still in Konoha when the time to fully transition becomes available, then she'd definitely take it. But... she has other questions.

"Could I ask about discrimination based on being transgender? Is there a way to make an official complaint if someone-?” she starts to ask, but Anko waves her off, even as her eyes seem to focus more sharply.

“Nah, just beat the shit out of the asshole being a dickhead. Civilians don’t quite get all of this, so some of the Academy brats can be little shits. If you beat them up, they’ll stop. Eventually.”

Nana hesitates. She doubts that's the proper procedure, and if she ever lay hands on someone she'd be whisked away quicker than she could raise her fist. So, she prods further.

“What if it isn’t just the kids though? What if it’s the instructor too?” she elaborates quietly, and Anko pauses. She looks at her for a moment, really looks at her rather than just giving her a passing glance or a bored stare.

“What’s he doing?”

For a second, Nana almost doesn’t say. She could just shrug, say “nothing much”, and just let it be ignored. And maybe she would have if today hadn’t been such a shit day. Maybe she would have kept her mouth shut if Teru-sensei hadn’t blamed her for her desk.

But he had, and she’s furious.

So she talks.

“Not using my name. He insists on using my deadname because ‘that’s what’s on your application form’. The other kids do it too, but only because they picked it up from him. He also blames me for stuff that other kids do, like messing up my desk. They scratched in my deadname today, and he said I’d have to clean it up as detention.”

Anko’s nails tap sharply on the bench, humming at her words, and Nana can see her glossy nail polish flake onto the wood.

“His name?” she finally asks, voice deceptively soft.

“Teru Shin.”

They’re both silent for another moment, before Anko sighs loudly and stands up, flicking her empty dango sticks in the bin.

“Normally, kid, I’d stay out of shit like this. But since I’ve got some free time today, Anko-nee-sama’s gonna sort this one out for you. But you owe me some dango for this, okay?”

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, instead turning to leave towards the Academy.

“Ah, Mitarashi-san? Thank you!” Nana yelps after her, watching as the older woman waves her off, until she disappears out of sight.

Nana lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and tries not to vomit. Her fingers scrape along the wood as she clenches her hands, wondering what the hell she was thinking. She’s grateful for Anko’s intervention, she really is, but a part of her is hitting herself for being so weak, for indebting herself to yet another person. Who knows what consequences this will have, and she isn’t looking forward to finding out. After taking another moment to recover, she pushes herself off of the bench and decides to go home. Tomorrow will be a long day, and she’d prefer to have enough sleep to get through it. As she wanders absentmindedly past the dango stand however, she finds herself bumping into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” The voice of an angry child shrieks out, and she stumbles back, eyes widening at the sight before her.

A young Uchiha Sasuke is glaring at her, and before she can react, a hand comes down to rest on his head.

“Be polite, Sasuke-kun.”

Her blood turns to ice.

Uchiha Itachi stands in front of her, his gaze unreadable, and Nana can feel bile crawl up her throat.

She really should have just stayed home today.

Chapter Text

All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination.

— Article 7 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

Nana has been trying to avoid the Uchiha Problem. It’s a situation where no-one can win, not her, not the Uchihas, not Konoha. Perhaps, were she more optimistic, she’d try to stop it in some way. Even now a part of her screams at her cowardice, at her reluctance to get involved, because doesn’t make that her as bad as every bystander who has watched atrocities happen? Is she not condemning children to deaths for the sins of their parents?

She’s cursing them to genocide, and it makes her want to vomit. But she knows that she can do nothing. She’s seven years old, ostracised and ignored in a village that is content to stagnate and push the blame on anyone except themselves. She knows, deep in her body, that if she tries to interfere with this, she’ll end up in a fate worse than death. It makes her sick to place her own life above theirs, but what can she do?

What can she do in this situation?

That isn’t to say she likes the Uchiha either. Most of them are so stuck up their own arse and old ways that they can’t even see the changes around them and the desperate need for them to adapt rather than dig their heels in. Pride is useless in life, pride does not keep you or your family alive, pride does not put food on the table, pride does not warm you when the nights are freezing. But when has anyone ever cared about this truth? They are rotten to their core with pride and hostility, so entangled within themselves that they want to attempt the impossible.

A coup?

A coup? In Konoha?

Look, she’s not against a good old revolution now and again, but the Uchiha are so woefully unprepared to fight in a mutiny on the scale they’d have to fight on. They only make up a small percentage of the whole Shinobi force, and yes, while they are skilled, there are many, many other clans willing and able to defend Konoha with their dying breath. The Uchiha will be slaughtered if they try to do such a foolish thing.

So instead, Uchiha Itachi will kill them all.

(He is, after all, the world’s shittiest pacifist. Like was he even trying? She knows it’s a lose-lose situation, but genocide?)

Nana has always viewed Itachi with a complicated gaze. In the simplest terms, she thinks he’s a fucking moron. But he’s also a kid forged in the embers of blood and death, warped by pressure and an overwhelming desire to save his younger brother, whom he loves more than life itself. It’s hard not to pity him, to pity the tragedy his life will become. He’s a child, and yet he will stain his hands with the blood of children and the torture of the brother he claims to adore. Just as she can do nothing, she knows that Itachi is as trapped as she is. Who will he go to? How can he even solve this?

He can’t. The Hokage will do as he always does; nothing. Danzo and the elders are so twisted by their own rotting desires that they’ll do anything to further their goals. The Uchiha won’t listen either, their precious pride has been too damaged, and to be fair, the ostracism of a village is harsh. She would know. And yet, for a clan full of geniuses, they sure are idiots. There’s a hell of a lot of them, even if there aren’t enough for a coup, they could instead just... up and leave the village. Go on strike or something.

She doesn’t even know anymore, but she’s pretty sure that there are many other options that are infinitely better than: commit genocide and traumatise my younger brother by mentally torturing him. If she could, she’d kick him in the nuts, and then give him a hug while telling him that murder is not a viable solution when you’re a pacifist, no matter how shitty a pacifist you are. Since she’s fairly sure Nana would be skewered before she even lifts up her knee to kick, she settles on returning his blank look.

“Sorry,” she says with no real conviction. Sasuke scowls at her, clearly hearing how un-sorry she is, and she thinks he’s about to demand a proper apology, only to stop when Itachi nods.

“It is no matter. My brother here was at fault as well. Sasuke, you should apologise as well,” he replies softly, eyes looking upon his younger brother fondly, and her stomach twists. Those same fond eyes will trap him in a nightmare so traumatising it will twist and warp this child into a shell of his former self.

(How? How can you say you love someone and hurt them in that way? That isn’t love.

That’s obsession.)

“...sorry,” Sasuke mumbles reluctantly, tiny hand twisting into the trousers of his elder brother. “Can we go now, aniki?”

“Yes, however I think it would be best if we invited this young lady with us, to apologise for our rudeness,” Itachi says, and she darts her eyes away from his gaze, trying very hard not to hyperventilate.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

“If you go with the Uchiha, I’m disowning you,” Kurama rumbles in her mind.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with them!” She shrieks back hysterically, hoping her face is as neutral as ever to the two brothers before her. “But how exactly does one refuse an invitation from the Uchiha heir?!”

“With a no, usually.”

“Oh really, that never crossed my mind, thank you, oh great and powerful Kyuubi, all of my life’s problems have been solved by your sage wisdom!”

She wonders if they can hear her whining, or if her gibbering sounds are still contained within her mind. God, she hopes so.

“Uzumaki-chan?” Itachi prods quietly, and she has to swallow a yelp of surprise. Of course he knows her name. Of course.

“Yes,” she blurts out, and he gives her a soft smile. Sasuke’s scowl grows angrier.

“Wonderful. We were just going to fetch an after-school snack, please feel free to choose one as well.”

No!!! That’s not what she meant!

“See now, you did the opposite of my advice-“ Kurama starts to say, voice lilting up in amusement, and she sends him a mental kick in the shin. It does nothing, of course, but it does make her feel a bit better.

Only a little bit though.

Nana reluctantly follows after the two brothers, trying to ignore the searing glare of Uchiha Sasuke. She doubts he’s pleased with her interrupting his precious time with his beloved older brother, and he’s not afraid to let her know it. Is this brat really the kid who goes batshit insane and tries to kill a bunch of people? Oh wait, she forgot. This is the Shinobi world, those are basically two requirements of being an active Shinobi.

It’s strange, how her previous anxieties have flipped into morbid amusement. She wonders if her body is so exhausted from all her worrying, it decided to make her find humour in situations she’d otherwise deal with by internalising everything and having a breakdown later. Nana supposes it’s better than the alternative. Humour gives some hope, after all.

Itachi breezes on unbothered, as though he barely notices Sasuke’s annoyance. She clears her throat nervously, and he sends her a glance.

“Which store are we going to?” Her voice breaks the uneasy silence between the three of them, and Itachi nudges his brother to answer. Some strange attempt for him to gain a friend perhaps?

(She very staunchly does not want to think about the fact that any friends she makes here will not last. Not with her plans, not with their loyalty. No, better to be alone, than to forge a bond and cruelly shred it into pieces, especially when she knows that she’ll break their friendship soon enough.)

“Ayaka-obaa-san’s bakery,” Sasuke tells her distastefully, staring at her with the Uchiha patented ‘you are dogshit on my shoe’ glare. How honoured she is to receive it in person.

“Ah. Where is it?”

“Just outside the Uchiha compound. She makes quite wonderful egg tarts,” Itachi supplies, his gaze still boring a hole into her skull. She very staunchly does not look. Nana is about to ask something else when a heavy hand falls on her shoulder, sturdy and restricting. She lets out a startled shriek, and Sasuke flinches. Itachi just looks tired.

The masked face of an ANBU looks back at her, as blank and unfeeling as ever.

“Hound,” Itachi says quietly. A greeting? Or a plea for permission?

Hang on, Hound?

“Uzumaki Nana is not permitted past the boundary of the Uchiha compound, by order of the Hokage and his Council,” the ANBU explains neutrally, and she wants to scream.

Of course. Of course she’s not allowed to go into certain places where undue influences could sway the Hokage’s precious demon pawn into another’s hand. Her every move is watched and restricted, carefully planned and thought out to push her in the best direction for Konoha, and going to a bakery with the Uchiha Clan Head’s sons could compromise that. No matter how innocent it is, no matter how kind such a gesture would otherwise be to a normally isolated Nana.

She’s not allowed to go, because she isn’t a person. She’s a tool.

“Yeah but the bakery isn’t in the compound!” Sasuke snarks back, even as he looks at her with wide eyes. But she knows his words will have no effect, not when the ANBU has been given his orders. Not when she knows who it is beneath that mask.

“I see. The Hokage’s orders must be followed,” Itachi replies neutrally, but there’s a tug of bitterness in his voice, of irony, and when she looks up, she meets the same disillusioned gaze she see every day in the mirror.

He looks so young, she realises.

He’s just a kid.

Nana’s body trembles gently, and the grip on her shoulder relaxes, and almost feels... soothing.

“Thank you for understanding. I will return her to her home,” Hound says, and there’s a note of apology in his words. Before she can even shout a farewell, she is whisked away, carried almost hesitantly in the ANBU’s arms.

She’s taken far away from the compound. From the brothers. From Itachi’s bitter gaze.

Neither of them speak until she is placed back home, in her cold, lonely apartment.

“The Hokage would prefer it if you reduced your interactions with any members of the Uchiha Clan for now,” he says tonelessly, and she bites her tongue until she tastes blood.

“I understand.”

He nods, and for a moment, he hesitates to leave.

“I apologise for any inconvenience.”

(I’m sorry.)

“Okay.”

(I hate you.)

“Goodbye, Nana.”

(I know.)

“That was cruel, Taichou.” Moth’s voice cuts through the silence like a kunai, sharp and questioning in equal measure. They watch little Nana slip into the bathroom, and know it will be a while before she emerges. He once asked Ram what it was that she did in there. They had given him a pitying look, before saying: ‘She just curls up and cries.’

His hands grip the branch tighter at the reminder.

“What would you have me do? The entire council agreed it was best to limit her involvement with them.” His own words are harsh, harsher than they need to be, but it’s the truth. Kakashi cannot go against the force of his Hokage and the council, not when the danger to Nana is clear. There are enough rumours circling around the Uchiha, and his sensei’s daughter doesn’t deserve to get pulled in with them all on top of everything else. It’s unfair, but it’s for her own good.

(Is it though, a small part whispers. Is this what Minato would have wanted?)

(Minato is dead, he tells it. He can’t want anything.)

“You could have stayed and comforted her. Who knows how long she’ll be in there now,” his teammate responds dully, her hands curled up into fists. He doesn’t reply.

“It’s not right,” she whispers after a while. “It’s not right to leave her alone like that.”

“I know that,” he hisses out, and the older woman cocks her head at his tone.

“Then why did you do it?”

Because he’s not allowed to stay in a room with her for longer than five minutes. Because the Council doesn’t want anyone familiar with her parentage to attach themselves for her. Because Kakashi is a fucking mess on the best of days, and he isn’t sure he’d be able to pry himself away from her afterwards, too wrapped up in trauma and instincts to let go.

“Focus on the assignment, Moth.” She scoffs at his words, but doesn’t talk again.

Kakashi is doing all he can with such restrictions, and he knows that Moth is concerned, but her judgement still grates on him. What does she expect him to do? Konoha is all he has left, the only thing keeping him still as the tides of grief continue to try to drown him, and he cannot compromise that by disobeying orders. He needs Konoha like he needs air, needs the village that his teacher and Rin and Obito and his father died for. Without that, he is nothing.

No-one.

Nana does not come out for the rest of his shift, and the gnawing shred of concern in his chest grows bigger. Moth keeps twitching, the only sign of her own unease, but he can also hear the low hum of her hive. He knows that she probably sees her own son in this position, alone and crying and lonely, and he wonders if she’ll quit again. She left the first time for the birth of her son, and returned once he turned five, but she’s still distracted it seems.

“Do you think she’s fallen asleep?” Moth asks shortly before the night-shift switch in, and he gives a half-hearted shrug. She looks at him, mask concealing the glare he knows is there, and before he can do anything, she declares:

“I’m going to check on her.”

He watches as she darts inside the dark apartment, a gloved hand knocking gently on the bathroom door. After a while, it opens, and a red-eyed Nana peeks out, hands gripping the doorframe tightly. Moth freezes, and he can see her shaking.

It happens too fast for him to stop.

Moth scoops up his sensei’s daughter in a hug, holding her tightly as she starts to sob again, hand reaching up to stroke her messy blonde hair. He knows he has to intervene, has to break them apart and report Moth for her misconduct but-

He can’t. He can’t deny Nana this small shred of comfort, as short as it will be. Moth will be removed from the roster after this, never to interact with her again, and it makes him question everything.

Questions aren’t good. Questions mean trouble.

After a minute that seems to stretch on forever, he steps in.

He tries not to listen to Nana’s upset words as he grabs Moth, tries not to look at her betrayed eyes, burning with dismay.

He tries not to feel Moth’s own sobs, how for a moment he thinks she’ll resist, before slumping in defeat as he takes her to the Hokage.

He watches Aburame Hotaru be stripped of her rank, and told to go home. She’s on house arrest for three months, and her family will not be allowed to interact with Uzumaki Nana for the next ten years, with the exception of her son, in case he ends up in the same Academy class. She does not weep at the punishment, even with dried tear tracks on her face, and Aburame Shibi takes his wife home, his own expression unreadable.

“It isn’t right,” she whispers again. “If it were my little Shino... it isn’t right.”

Kakashi doesn’t say anything.

What can he say in the face of the truth?

(Months later, he will find out that Hotaru has died on a mission gone wrong, once she was allowed back into active service. Something sour will creep its way into his mouth.

And he will begin to question.)

Nana is left in her apartment with heavy breaths and a scream tangled in her throat. She wasn’t even allowed three minutes of comfort before the ANBU was whisked away. She doubts she’ll ever see her again, and the hot rage within her swells. Will the woman be punished for daring to be kind? To give a lonely, crying child affection and comfort?

Will she be executed?

Before she can even think about it, Nana grabs a plate from the table and smashes it on the ground. She doesn’t let herself scream. She can’t go that far yet. But everything in her body urges her to destroy and break, to tear at the walls, the carpet, her own skin-

No. No, no, she refuses to let this continue. How long has she spent moping and trembling in fear, when she could have been preparing? How long has she let Konoha ensnare her with apathy, when she should have been stoking her flames of rebellion.

Enough is enough.

She’s been dithering for far too long, too wrapped up in thoughts that only mattered in the long run. Right now, right here, she has to act differently. She’s not an adult yet, is nowhere near the strength she has to be if she wants to survive.

(If she wants to change things.)

Things cannot continue like this. Nana cannot continue like this. Konoha is drowning her, and by doing nothing, she is letting it.

“That’s more like it, child,” Kurama murmurs approvingly in her mind. She clenches her fists at the words, the burning fury still smouldering in her chest.

“What do I do?” She asks softly, a gentle contrast to the roar she wants to release.

“You train,” he says simply. “You train and get strong. And then?

“You survive.”

Her first session with Gai is tomorrow, and God, why did she spend so much time focused on things like manipulation and trust. Konoha is handing her the knife to cut her binds with, and they don’t even know it. If Konoha wants to give her gifts that can ensure she survives, then she’ll take it.

She has to.

Nana marches over to the basket she had hidden away, too frightened of the gift within it. The kunai and senbon wink back at her, sharp and enticing. She still shudders at the thought of hurting people, of killing them, but she won’t have to do that for a long time yet.

She can plan for it. Come up with a way to peacefully knock them out. Poisons will be her friend here, just like the words and arguments she loves so dearly.

Nana will not be another Itachi, cooped up and chained until the only solution he knows is violence, even as he dreams of better things.

She tugs the skewed ribbon out of her hair and pulls back the golden locks into a braid. She examines the ninja wire, each packed in different variations of sharpness, and grabs a blunter one. The wire is woven into her hair like flowers, senbon being pushed into the curls like hidden thorns, and she lets herself look in her grimy mirror.

She bares her teeth, mouth still bloody from where she bit her tongue, and it looks like a promise.

Tomorrow, Nana thinks, she goes to war.

If she has to play by the shinobi rules, then fine, she’ll do it. But she won’t let them rule her, and she’ll twist them as she pleases, bending and weaving them into excuses and chances until they follow her own tune.

After all, that’s what a lawyer is best at doing.

Chapter Text

Everyone has the right to an effective remedy by the competent national tribunals for acts violating the fundamental rights granted him by the constitution or by law.

— Article 8 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

Nana opens up her notebook with quivering hands; it’s one thing to declare herself ready to fight, and another thing entirely to come up with a plan on how to do so. Kurama remains a steady, yet quiet presence in her mind as she dithers. She would prefer not to write this down, but she needs something solid, something real for her to grip and look at. It is both a guide and reminder.

Carefully, she begins the first strokes of a sentence in her old language.

Ich heisse Nana.

My name is Nana.

She takes in a shuddering breath, eyes roving over the old, familiar letters, and something like relief flutters in her chest. German plays by a different set of rules to Japanese, and even with the code-breakers she’s sure Konoha has, she doubts they’ll be able to crack this so easily. Not when it has an entirely different alphabet. Having confirmed that yes, she can still remember German, she turns to Kurama.

“Where do I begin?” She asks quietly, and he hums.

“That all depends. What is your aim with this? You don’t have to know your end goal just yet, but having a destination should help guide you.”

“I...” Nana bites her lip, and thinks. She had decided she would play by Konoha’s rules, but that didn’t really tell her anything.

“I want to get out of Konoha’s thumb.”

“That’s a lofty goal. But a good one. How will you achieve this?” Kurama coaxes her, voice steady and knowing. She stills, pen poised above the paper. She knows how she’ll do that. It’s just a question of whether she can.

“Train under Gai. Taijutsu was vastly underused in the series, and Gai is possibly one of the strongest people in the world. He was able to punch... you know... in the face,” she explains softly, before sighing at Kurama’s annoyed growl.

“Yes, yes. And?”

“...Is it possible for me to learn Genjutsu, Kurama?” Nana asks bluntly, and the Kyuubi stills. She had read many a story saying it was impossible for Naruto to learn Genjutsu due to his abundance of chakra, but if... if she could learn, then it could be a game changer. Finally, Kurama chuckles.

“Do you not know what I am? I am a Kitsune, child. Illusions of the mind are my specialty. If you learn how to control my chakra, then perhaps you too, could wield my illusions.”

She can’t stop the hope and excitement from welling up in her chest. Using illusions would give her an edge over her opponents, as well as make sneaking out so much easier. But before she can ask anything else, he cuts into her thoughts.

“If you want to escape, you’ll have to be unassuming. Be a good little soldier. Do you understand what that means? What you’ll have to do?”

“...Would I have to? Could I not just... incapacitate?”

“You are being foolish again. No. You know how it works here, it is kill or be killed. Your enemy will not stand around prettily while you try to knock them out. They won’t hesitate to kill you. You can no longer hesitate either.”

Nana wants to argue. Wants to ask what gives her the right to decide who lives and dies, but the words die on her tongue before she can even ask them. Even so, Kurama hears.

“Shed your conscience, child, and save it for a time where you can afford to have it. You are already deciding who lives and dies, simply by existing. After all, what makes your life more valuable than the Uchiha children? You could stop it. One life for many, after all. But then what would happen? What would happen to me? To you? To the world?” His words are cutting and deep, forcing her to look directly at questions she herself has tried to avoid. Her hands ball up into fists, the pen creaking under her strength.

“Nothing. Nothing would change.”

“Exactly. You are leading a revolution, Nana. You will have to decide who lives, and who dies. For if you don’t, then you shall doom this world to stagnation. How much blood will be on your hands if you let this continue? How many more children will be forced to fight for a war that does not matter? How many more orphans will you create? People will die whether you get involved or not. The question, however, is whether acting is the lesser evil.”

She can’t respond. On a logical level, she knows Kurama is manipulating her. Knows that he is twisting his words to bite into her skin, to make the guilt and obligation well up.

“Evil is evil-” she tries to say, but he cuts her off.

“Is it? Is killing a murderer more evil than letting him free, dooming more people to die? Is standing up to fight more evil than sitting down and watching it happen? Is forcing change more evil than quietly hiding away and closing your eyes? You are making excuses, Nana. Excuses neither of us have the time for. The way I see it, you have three options. One, you block everything out and mindlessly let Konoha pull on your strings like a puppet, until you either die in battle, or kill yourself out of guilt. Two, you get strong enough to destroy Zetsu and the Gedo Mazo, then run away to some quiet, distant land, and live out the rest of your days as a civilian.”

Something heavy sits in her chest at his words, and she can feel bile swim up her throat.

“And three?” She croaks out.

Kurama pauses for a moment, before he speaks again.

“Three, you fight. You fight for the world and for the changes you dream of. What will it be? Will you curl up and die? Or will you claw your way to freedom and peace?”

It seems like a hard decision. Like something she would have to think about for days, turning and twisting every possibility until she can find some satisfactory result. But Kurama is right. They don’t have the time for excuses, for debates over morality. Both of them know that there is no right answer. She will become the very person she would hate to be, no matter her choice. Drops of blood well up beneath her fingertips, and she flinches.

“Three,” she finally breathes out. “Three.”

“Then get planning, little pacifist.”

And she starts to write.

Nana goes to bed late, fingers stained with ink from scribbling plans and ideas for hours. She isn’t fully satisfied with what the two of them have decided on, but then again, she doubts she will ever be happy with what she has to do. She will become a criminal, a ‘shinobi’, and she will swallow down her guilt until her work is done.

When she wakes up the next morning, it is with grim determination.

(Is this how Itachi feels, she wonders. If so, then she finds herself respecting him just a little more. She will never like him or his decisions, but she can mourn the path he has been forced on. The path she will now follow, to some extent.)

Nana mechanically prepares herself for today, for the Academy and her afternoon session with Gai, weaving her hair into the same spiked braid she wore yesterday when she made her declaration. A darkly amused part of her notes that her whiskers look like war paint, and she can’t stop the bitter satisfaction from rising up in her stomach at the thought. She peers in the mirror and wants to laugh.

She looks older than she is, dark circles beneath her jaded eyes, mouth set in an unhappy line. The cheerful green of her clothes is a stark contrast to her hair, her face, her posture. She feels like an adult trying to be a child again, and this time, she does laugh.

After all, is that not what she is? An adult shoved into the body of a neglected child, forced to bear the weight of a war-torn world on her shoulders? She bares her teeth at her reflection, and stalks away, rummaging through her closet to dig out Ryuu’s hand-me-downs. She pulls the dark brown jacket over her hand and arm guards, shoves a single, battered flower pin through her hair, and returns to the mirror. She still looks like a child, but it is tempered by the remnants of her family, of the gifts her fellow orphans gave her. With a satisfied nod, she turns away, and finishes up her morning routine.

She leaves her house at a reasonable time, walking carefully to the Academy. She and Kurama had both decided it would be best to stick to most of canon up until she left, just to make things easier to predict. To do that, she has to keep her head down and stay unassuming, has to make sure she gets put into the Rookie Nine’s class, all while training to be stronger. She’ll have to downplay her abilities, but Kurama had told her not to worry about that just yet.

“Some problems,” he explained, “are better solved when in front of you.”

Reluctantly agreeing, Nana decided to shelve that for another day. She arrives at the Academy still deep in thought, before suddenly freezing.

“Fuck,” she hisses under her breath. “I forgot to clean my desk.”

She grits her teeth in fury. Of course she’d forget to do the one thing her teacher asked her to do, no matter how inane or unfair. She has no doubts the lecture she’ll receive will be painfully humiliating and done in front of all of her peers. Nana forces herself to hurry inside, steadfastly looking at the floor as she enters her classroom.

“Uzumaki-san,” her teacher calls out, and she can hear snickering from the students who have already arrived. “See me after class.”

Heat rises to her cheeks, and she scowls to herself.

“Yes, Teru-sensei.”

Her desk is surprisingly clean, with even the carvings gone, and as she finally glances up, she notices how her teacher refuses to look at her directly. He’s limping slightly. Did... Anko do this? Nana had forgotten their discussion yesterday, but now that the excitement of last night has faded, she finds herself recalling the older woman’s words. Teru-sensei ignores her for the entirety of the morning session, not even calling on her once like he usually does. When lunch comes, he beckons her over, looking at her for the first time. She swallows at the resentment in his eyes.

“Yesterday, it was brought to my attention by a superior that I have been... calling you the wrong name. I apologise for any offence caused, Uzu- Nana-san. I will endeavour to call you the correct name. You are dismissed.” His voice is cold, insincere, and she finds herself averting her gaze.

“Thank you, sensei,” she replies quietly, swallowing down her rage at his callousness, and turns to leave.

“Uzumaki-san.”

“...yes?” She asks, not turning to look at him.

“We will be sparring today. Remove your hair trinkets unless you want to severely injure your classmates.”

“Yes, Teru-sensei.”

She walks out as quickly as possible, barely even noticing the teacher in front of her until she almost collides with him.

“Careful there.” A voice says kindly, and she startles at the sudden touch steadying her. She blinks, and tries not to pale.

Mizuki gives her a grin reminiscent of a grimace, eyes narrowed at her very being.

“Look out where you’re walking, kid. Don’t want to run into the wrong person!” He says it like a joke, but there’s a soft threat in his words. She nods hesitantly, and tries to walk away, but his grip remains.

“Hey, is Teru-sensei in there? I need to discuss something with him,” Mizuki asks, giving her a disarming smile.

“Yes, he should still be in there.”

“Perfect! See you around, kid,” he replies, finally removing his hands and giving her a small wave. He walks into the classroom, and for a second, Nana lingers.

“Teru! You look terrible! What happened?”

“Uzumaki went squealing to Mitarashi Anko. She decided to... hold a training session.” Teru-sensei’s voice is bitter and cold, and Nana swallows.

“Fuck, really? Did you report it?”

She flinches at the harsh laugh her sensei gives Mizuki.

“What could I report? It’s all technically above the books, and you know that when it comes down to it, they wouldn’t even give her a slap on the wrist. Tokubetsu jounin are more important than silly little Chuunin instructors, after all. Doesn’t matter that she’s insane and on the verge of defecting. She could fucking slit my throat and spit on my corpse in front of Hokage-sama, and it would be labelled an ‘unfortunate accident’,” he spits out, venom drenching every word. The two teachers continue to talk, but Nana doesn’t stay any longer. She can’t stay any longer.

Is this her fault? A part of her had been viciously glad to know that Anko had defended her, but now? After learning about how she could get away with this easily?

How many other abuses of power are there? How often is it covered up?

Nana wants to vomit. She had been naïve to think that there would be no obvious abuse through the chain of command. It always exists. Always.

“Breathe, child. This was not your doing. You could not have known,” Kurama whispers, and she stumbles into the bathroom, locking herself in a stall and giving herself a moment to just... be. Logically, she knows this isn’t her fault. But a part of her feels responsible for giving into her childish desire to be heard, to have someone defend her.

Nana takes a shuddering breath, and closes her eyes. Enough now, she tells herself. Did she not decide she wouldn’t keep on doing this? She can’t run from every problem that crops up. Can’t feel guilt for things she may or may not be the cause of.

If she wants to survive, she has to be sure of her every move, her every word, her every step. There is no time for excuses, she repeats softly.

“Stand proud. Instead of crying over it, what should you do?”

“Become strong,” she whispers, “and change it.”

“Good,” Kurama praises. “Chin up and sharpen your teeth. You are not alone.”

She gives a jerky nod, before exiting the stall and reluctantly undoing her hair. She pockets the senbon and pins in her weapons’ pouch, quickly tying her hair up in a simple braid. She hurries out of the bathroom to finally eat her lunch, choking down the cheap bread and meat she had tossed together in a sandwich. It tastes like sand, but it’s filling, and by the time she’s finished, it’s time to return to class.

They are all led out to the Academy sparring grounds, the children chatting excitedly about the upcoming fights. It makes her sick to see how eager they are to beat each other into the ground, but she comforts herself with the thought that most of them won’t even make it through the Academy.

Most of them will be kicked out and will live as civilians. They will get to be innocent for a little while longer.

Teru-sensei stands tall before them, face as blank as ever.

“Today, you will spar against your classmates. This is an opportunity to show your instructors what you have learnt, and whether you will be useful comrades in the future. Use every kata you know, every advantage available, to beat your opponent. Do not grievously wound or injure, however. Do not underestimate your opponent. There are shinobi far stronger than I, yet younger than you out there,” he explains, eyes drifting over Nana briefly. One of the children, Uchiha Kamiko, notices the movement, and grins viciously.

“Like Uzumaki-kun, sensei?” She asks eagerly, and Nana freezes. Teru-sensei pauses as well, and she begs for him to wave her off, to deny her-

“Yes, perhaps,” he says instead, and the rage bubbles under her skin. Everyone is now looking at her, and she can see the cruel gazes of her fellow, older, classmates picking her apart.

“Oho, then I would like to spar against someone so talented!” Kamiko declares, and a wave of agreement follows. Teru-sensei does nothing to stop it, and instead nods.

You coward, she thinks. You hateful, bitter coward.

“Very well. Uchiha-san, you may go first. Uzumaki, step up to the circle. First one to be pinned down loses.”

With trembling limbs, she forces herself into the sparring circle, trying not to look her grinning opponent in the eyes.

“Go!”

What?

A fist flies at her face, knocking into her nose and forcing her to stumble. Kamiko is relentless, hands reaching out to grab her arms and twist them behind her back.

What?

“Fight, you stupid girl!” Kurama yells, and even through the throbbing pain, she forces her arms to move. As Kamiko’s hand comes down to grab at her block, Nana twists her arm and latches onto the girl’s wrist, pulling her forward and striking at her face. Thank God for Krav Maga, she thinks distantly, as her opponent loses her footing. A part of her should be more reluctant to strike a child, but the fury that has burned within her body for so long is singing in glee, and Nana finds that she can’t stop, can’t pull back as she lifts her knee to slam it into Kamiko’s thigh. The girl gives a yelp, and tries to lash out, nails scratching against her cheek.

Nana flinches, and it gives the Uchiha time to pull away, a furious scowl on her face. Her dark eyes glint with fury and a desire for revenge, and Nana grimaces. The other girl gets into an unfamiliar stance, a regal anger in her posture, and Nana’s own body moves in the basic Krav Maga stance.

With a cry, Kamiko launches herself at her, body twisting to duck under her strikes, instead slamming a fist into her knee. Nana gives a strangled scream, the pain shooting up her leg, and the other girl gives a smug smile.

“Hit her right arm, right by the elbow. That strike forced her arm to bend too much, and it should be a weak spot,” Kurama says hurriedly, and Nana forces herself to move again, fist curled up and swinging towards the other girl’s arm. It hits true, and she gives a howl of pain.

“Now! Do not let up, kick her ankles, twist her around and hit her knees, quickly!” Her body is moving on autopilot, limbs flinging out ungracefully to try and scrape a win, by any means necessary. Kamiko’s ankle makes a snapping sound as Nana strikes it, and the girl stumbles, face going white. Not giving her a chance to recover, she pushes the Uchiha down and pins her arms behind her back, foot resting on the back of her head.

Nana is barely panting, even as her body aches from the blows she’s received. For a moment, everything is silent, before the teacher finally announces:

“Winner: Uzumaki Nana.”

Gai is waiting for her as she exits the Academy, the furious lecture of her teacher and the nurse still ringing in her ears. She had accidentally broken Kamiko’s ankle, disqualifying her from any further sparring until she learned restraint. Nana swallows at the memory of her classmates, staring at her with revulsion and horror, at Kamiko’s pained face, at the whispers that followed her down the hallway. For once, Gai and his cheer are welcome.

“Nana-chan!” He calls out, grin as wide as ever. “I heard you’ve had an eventful day!”

She grimaces in response, and he laughs boisterously.

“Have no worry, my dear student. She was healed quickly by the med-nin and raring for a second round! While I can’t quite approve injuring a fellow Konohan shinobi like that, I am most certainly proud of you winning that battle! You will be a fine kunoichi!” He praises, and Nana’s stomach roils, even as she gives him a weak grin in return.

“I’m happy I made you proud, Gai-san,” she says, and his eyes tear up.

“Oh my dear student! Of course I am proud of you! So long as you try and strive towards your goals, I shall always be proud!” He wraps her up in a hug that is surprisingly gentle, and Nana can’t stop herself from melting into the comfort. He pulls away far too soon, his face suddenly serious, and she bites her lip.

“Is... everything alright?”

Gai sighs deeply, patting her shoulder briefly before turning away, and gesturing at her to follow.

“I’m afraid I must talk to you about yesterday’s incident with the ANBU and the Uchiha,” he explains softly. Nana stiffens, eyes avoiding the Taijutsu master beside her.

“Nana, what happened was a gross failure on the part of the ANBU. It was incredibly inappropriate and unacceptable behaviour from a member of Konoha’s elite. Had we known you were being watched, we would have intervened sooner.” His words sound rehearsed, as though he’s been given an exact script to follow in order to explain. Regardless, she finds herself flinching.

He’s lying to her. Gai is lying to her. He’s pretending that she doesn’t have an ANBU guard, that she isn’t being watched every moment of every day. He must mistake the expression on her face for something else, as he sighs again.

“Nana, on behalf of the Hokage, we wish to apologise. The ANBU in question has been pulled from the rota and is under strict house arrest. However, there is still the matter of the Uchiha to discuss. Come, sit,” he says, sitting cross-legged on the grass. They’ve arrived at a training ground, empty and hidden away from prying eyes. She obeys his suggestion and plonks down in front of him, hands threading through the grass subconsciously.

“Tensions with the Uchiha have been... at an all-time high lately. Hokage-sama is working out the issues, but is concerned for you. You are very important to him, you see. He sees you as a granddaughter, and wishes for you to be safe,” Gai explains, and as she looks in his eyes, she can see that he believes his own words. Here, he isn’t lying to her. He honestly thinks the Hokage has her best interests at heart, and it makes her mouth fill with something sour.

She wants to like Gai. She wants to trust him.

But this, this is exactly why she can’t. So instead she nods dutifully.

“I understand. I’m honoured that he sees me like that,” she replies, carefully injecting a small amount of awe and honour in her voice. Gai grins at her words, and ruffles her hair, effectively destroying the tense atmosphere.

“I’m glad you do! Don’t worry, Nana-chan. It should be sorted soon, and then you’ll get to play with the two boys you met! But for now, let us begin! We shall start with stretches, then laps. We must train your body to become used to being pushed to the limit! Then, we will go through some kata. Finally, we’ll look at some chakra control techniques, however I wouldn’t expect much from that yet. Body and mind must work in tandem, after all!” He explains exuberantly, and she gives a small smile back, even as her mind buzzes with the implications of their previous discussion.

Nana tries to focus as Gai guides her through the routine, body aching as he encourages her to twist this way and that way. Still, her thoughts linger elsewhere, and it’s clear Gai notices, though he does not stop. Rather, he pushes her harder, and soon all of her energy is focused on staying upright as he takes her through a gruelling series of laps, kata, and stretches.

They finally finish as the sun begins to gleam orange, bathing the training ground in golden light. She’s panting softly, trying to keep the blasted leaf on her forehead, but the aches in her body keep pulling her attention away from her chakra. After the fifteenth failure, Gai stops her, and gives her a kind smile.

“I think that’s enough for today. You have done remarkably well, Nana-chan! You should be proud!” His hand comes to rest on her head again, his smile turning fond.

“Thank you, Gai-san,” she forces out, chest still heaving from the work-out. “When shall we meet again?”

“Tomorrow, at the same time, my dear student! We must keep up a routine!” He proclaims, and Nana can already feel her bones shriek in protest.

“...Sounds great. I look forwards to it.”

Gai laughs at the tone of her voice, and ruffles her hair, before pulling away.

“Very well then! I must go report to the Hokage, but I hope you have a pleasant evening! Make sure to eat plenty tonight, and go to bed early!”

She waves goodbye, watching as he darts out of sight, before slumping on the ground. She closes her eyes tiredly, mind blissfully empty for once. The thoughts will come running back soon enough, but for now, she is content to bask in the knowledge that she is working towards her goal. Suddenly, she hears the shuffle of feet before her, and her eyes snap open. A shadow stands over her, and she flinches at the sight, before her eyes focus.

Oh shit, she thinks.

Hyuuga Neji glares down at her, blank eyes filled with distaste, and Nana wonders how the fuck she keeps on getting into these situations.

But...

Neji has always been more... revolutionary. Maybe it’s the exhaustion addling her mind, maybe she’s just desperate to have another confidante that she can trust, but something cruel and manipulative within her decides to become friends with him.

“Hey,” she says lightly, watching as his eyes narrow. “I’m Uzumaki Nana, and you?”

Chapter Text

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.

— Article 9 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

“Effective immediately, Uzumaki Nana will no longer have ANBU guards watching her during the day. The actions of Moth have shown me that it is too dangerous to continue the current rotation. As a result, one guard will be posted during the night, with explicit instructions to report back should anything occur. I’m sure that all of you understand that this incident is confidential. Unless her life is in immediate danger, there will be no interference. Am I clear?” The Hokage’s voice rang out through his office like a funeral bell, stern eyes examining each and every one of Nana’s guards.

Kakashi bites his tongue as he and the rest of his comrades give their leader a sharp nod, his sharp canines tearing into soft flesh. It’s a disproportionate response, Kakashi thinks, for such a small thing. But it isn’t his place to question. At the very least, he can still watch over her and protect her. He’s failed her once already, he cannot fail again.

(Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he’ll start to fully believe it.)

“Dismissed. Hound, a word please.” The Hokage’s words pull him from his thoughts, and Kakashi stands at attention, eyes focused on the man before him. The other ANBU file out silently, barely giving him a glance, but he pays them no heed. Neither does his leader, who lets out a tired sigh once the two of them are alone.

“Kakashi. What happened?” He murmurs softly, his face falling and showing his age. He looks exhausted, and Kakashi cannot blame him for it. Running a hidden village is no easy task, and he’s just glad he doesn’t have to do it.

“Moth expressed concern over Uzumaki Nana, and went in to comfort her, despite my attempts to stop her-” he begins, but Sarutobi cuts him off.

“I know that part. What I wanted to know is why didn’t you stop her sooner? This incident will have the clans in an uproar, and there are already rumours within the Aburame clan of... seceding from Konoha.”

Kakashi’s brow furrows.

“But why?” He asks, and the Hokage sighs again.

“It turns out they have not been pleased for a while. The treatment of their clan from the civilians, as well as the way we have handled this situation has upset them. I doubt it’s anything more than threats, but with the current political climate, I cannot have a major clan doubt me. The council have asked me to take this decision. Kakashi... I’m sorry,” he explains, voice quiet, and at the apology, Kakashi pauses.

“Hokage-sama?”

There is a moment of silence before he speaks again.

“Hatake Kakashi, I am removing you from Uzumaki Nana’s guard rotation immediately. You are not to have contact with her until she graduates from the Academy. Should you break this order, it will be seen as treason against Konohagakure, and you will be punished accordingly.” The Sandaime Hokage’s words are clear within the small room, even as his eyes look at Kakashi with an unspoken apology. But it doesn’t matter. His chest constricts, even as he continues to stare impassively at his leader.

“Understood.” His reply is blank, void of any discernible emotion, even as a violent, desperate rage simmers within his chest. He wants to argue, wants to plead for a second chance, but he knows it will be futile. His world is falling apart yet again, and there is nothing he can do about it. Defying means treason, means betraying his village, and... he can’t do that.

He can’t.

The Hokage dismisses him with a sad look on his face, but Kakashi barely notices it. Instead, he stumbles back to his apartment, something half mad and desperate trying to blind him. Coward, a voice hisses in his mind, and it sounds like Obito. He can feel the heavy stare of his sensei, the furious shriek of Kushina, the disappointed frown on Rin’s face. They would hate him for this. More than they surely already do, and it makes something sour bubble up in his mouth.

The moment he arrives in his apartment he tosses his ANBU mask carelessly aside, scrubbing at his face and hands. What a failure he is. He cannot protect his sensei’s daughter from a distance, cannot make sure she is alright, even if only physically. He has failed Minato and Kushina, has spit upon everything they worked for, and it makes his skin crawl.

And yet... the Hokage had told him he couldn’t see her until she graduated. It’s a small hope, even as his broken mind shakes its head at him. He has no idea to handle kids, but if he can get Nana to graduate early, then he can take her on as an apprentice and keep her safe. He breaks everything he touches, but for her, he can try. All he has to do is talk to Gai. Gai, his dearest, oldest friend, though he’ll never admit it. Gai, who can teach Nana while he can’t, who can talk to her, train her, and be the teacher she deserves.

He cannot stop the small roil of jealousy in his stomach, but he easily tampers it down. Kakashi is a shinobi, and removing these emotions is an art form he is a master at. He lets himself take a deep breath, before steeling himself, changing into his regular Jounin clothes. The route to Gai’s is one he can do with his eyes closed, the two of them often crashing at the other’s place after a particularly harrowing mission. He barely knocks on the door before his oldest friend opens, an exuberant grin on his face.

“Why hello, my dear rival! Come in, come in!” He says happily, not even mentioning the late time. Most people would have complained, would have pointed out that it’s three in the morning, but Gai has never been ‘most people’.

“Can I get you anything? Tea, crackers?”

“Gai.” Kakashi’s voice cuts through the cheerful room like a knife, and almost immediately, Gai’s eyes focus and become serious.

“Kakashi? What’s wrong?”

“...I’ve been removed from Nana’s ANBU guard. The... incident last night made the Hokage feel it would be best to distance me from her. I... will not be allowed to see her until she graduates,” he says calmly, as though he’s reciting a mission report, and he watches distantly as Gai’s face twists into an expression of horror and sympathy.

“Kakashi... I’m so sorry. That... that isn’t...” It isn’t right, Gai seems to want to say, and the reminder of Moth’s words is almost enough to cause him to crumble.

Because it isn’t, is it? Not really.

Kakashi has been a good shinobi. An excellent one even. He has done things that would haunt most Jounin, has almost given his life for the Village several times, and not once has he heard a stuttering protest against his actions. And yet here he is, listening to not one, but two people say that what is happening is not ‘right’. It’s enough to make him fumble and pause, for the questions he usually buries far away to sprout up like unwanted weeds. It’s enough for the doubt to start to creep in.

“Hokage-sama himself ordered it. But that’s not why I’m here,” he says after a while, and Gai looks at him with a seriousness he rarely sees.

“Anything, my dear friend.”

“Look after her. Please."

Hotaru has not left their room since last night, and it worries Shibi. Shino is equally worried, though he would never let anyone know, too hesitant to bother his parents with such a silly thing. Normally it would make him give his son a rare smile and a pat on the head, but today, he cannot think. He’s already explained to Shino that he has to stay away from Uzumaki Nana, knows that it confuses his son, but this incident... has scared Shibi.

Konoha cannot be trusted.

It’s a frightening thought. Shibi has been a loyal Konohan Shinobi for his whole life, but there have been grumbles in his Clan, the outside hostility slowly rising to unbearable levels. He knows that the civilians are unsure of things they do not understand, but their disgust has reached an unacceptable point. He has tried to ask the Hokage to do something, over and over, but the older man just looks at him sadly. There are greater things afoot, his face seems to say.

It makes him want to punch him, and the treasounous thought makes him flinch. The Aburame have always been on the outskirts of Konoha, not quite integrated, not quite accepted, but they had always been respected. But recently, the hostility has outweighed the respect, and Shibi is worried that things will escalate. He is no fool. He has seen the Uchiha Clan, has seen how ever so slowly they have been isolated from the rest of the Village. It’s beyond worrying, and he’s not the only one who has noticed.

His clansmen are scared. Scared that they will be next, and Shibi isn’t able to say with surety that they are wrong. But the final straw is Uzumaki Nana. Hotaru has always had a soft spot for kids, particularly those lost in life, but he never could have thought it would come to this. Stripped of her rank for daring to care for one of those children. Grubs are precious in their family, and Konoha is mistreating a ward of the state.

He suspects however, that she is not the only one. Danzo has approached him many times with the offer of taking Shino, an oily kindness in his words as he told them of making him into a great shinobi under his own guidance. His refusal had only incentivised the old man. He had told him that it was approved by the Hokage, that there was nothing he could do, and before he could react, Torune was gone. All he can do is hope that he is safe. That the Hokage is watching over Danzo. Now, however, he doubts it. After last night, he doubts everything, his trust in Konoha worn down to a thin thread.

This does not only threaten his clan, but all of the clans of Konoha. It’s easy to call upon his former teammates and request to speak with them, eyes serious even as Tsume ruffled his hair and took potshots at Hiashi.

“Well, bug-boy? Whaddya call us for?” She’s as crass as ever, and a small part of him is grateful for her ability to get straight to the point.

“I needed to discuss something of great importance with you both. Why? Because it pertains to all of the clans of Konoha and is a potential threat. There was an incident last night with my wife, resulting in her being stripped of her rank. Why? Because she comforted Uzumaki Nana.” His words are like a stone in a pond, and his teammates look at him. Hiashi’s eyes narrow, and he can see the amusement drip away from Tsume in a heartbeat.

“That is a severe warning, Shibi. Are you telling us that if one of our clan members were to speak with the Uzumaki girl, we could face the same punishment?” Hiashi asks carefully, voice quiet, and Shibi nods. Tsume growls lowly.

“Brat’s just a pup though, leavin’ her alone like that... I wonder what the old geezer is thinkin’. I know he ordered us all away but... Kushina was a friend,” she grounds out, and Shibi quickly places a calming hand on her shoulder.

“I understand. But this is not an isolated incident. The Aburame Clan... are considering of formally seceding from Konoha.” He’s not even able to explain why before Tsume pounces on him, gripping his hand with a force that makes him wince.

“What?! Why the fuck would you do that? God, Shibi, that’s treason you’re talkin’ about! Fuck, you’d all be killed!”

“There is a formal procedure in place, though it has not been used since Konoha was established. Why? Because there has been no need to use it.”

“Until now,” Hiashi notes softly, and Shibi nods.

“Until now.”

“Tsume, you mangy mutt, calm down. Shibi, explain,” the Hyuuga clan-head orders, ducking under Tsume’s punch with an ease born from years of practice.

And with that, Shibi starts to talk, telling them of the hostility, of the doubt, of the worry. They sit quietly as they listen, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he speaks. By the end of it, both of them are pale, with Tsume’s growls slowly filling the air.

“Fuck,” Hiashi says abruptly. “Fuck.”

Despite the mood, Shibi cannot stop the laugh that is startled out of him at the uptight Hyuuga’s words, and Tsume chuckles along. But soon enough, they all focus again.

“That’s a big, fat accusation there, Shibi. I’d heard of pups going missing, but... fuck, this is messed up. We’re supposed to be the good guys!”

“And yet, it’s happened regardless. Shimura-san is loyal, that I know for sure, but the extent he would go for Konoha... It worries me,” Shibi admits.

“But is that not what we must do as Shinobi of Konoha? Fight until we cannot no more, protect the Village by any means necessary?” Hiashi points out, forever the Devil’s advocate, and this time he isn’t quick enough to dodge Tsume’s fist.

“Don’t be a fucking moron, you tight-arsed prick! We got morals! Standards! A code!”

“And yet you lack intelligence,” Hiashi mutters softly, and Shibi winces at the resulting ‘thwack’.

“Enough,” he finally says, and they turn back to look at him. “It is for those reasons that we wish to secede. I understand it is a dire response, but recent events have shown us that these are dire circumstances. And because of this, I must ask you a heavy favour. I ask you to support us. You must not join our plight, but please, lend us your political support.”

Shibi bows deeply, unable to look at his teammates in the eyes, even through his glasses.  

“Shit, Shibi, look, you don’t have to go that far. We could support you in callin’ out Shimura’s ass. Then you wouldn’t haf’ta go.”

“I agree with Tsume, such a course of action seems far more viable than... what you are suggesting.”

Shibi hesitates before straightening up again, and he finds both of them closer to him than before, reassuring hands placed on his shoulders.

“Look, we’re in this together, okay? If you need our support, then we’ll give it to ya. But... please, try this first,” Tsume asks softly, Hiashi nodding sternly beside her. Shibi lets out a sigh, torn between what his clan wishes, and what his teammates request from him. Finally, he gives them both a sharp nod.

“Very well. We shall try this plan first. But before we do, I must beg of you to tell your clan to stay away from Uzumaki Nana. Why? Because while I feel sorry for the grub, she poses a risk to our clans. Perhaps, once this is solved, we can help her further.”

He can see how his words rankle Tsume, but Hiashi readily agrees, and eventually, she does too.

“Will you speak to the other clans about Uzumaki?” Hiashi asks, and Shibi nods.

“I have an appointment with Shikaku. He can then tell the others. Perhaps it is not wise, but I do not wish for anyone else to be burned.”

They part from each other soon after, with promises of meeting up again and discussing the finer details. For the first time in many months, Shibi feels lighter.

Hotaru, he thinks, will be so happy.

(An on-looker in the trees listens to their discussion, and hurries back to their master. They pose a threat to Konoha. And threats must be dealt with.)

“...You’re treading dangerous waters here, Shibi-san,” Shikaku says finally, fingers steepled under his chin. Shibi does not react, just as he expected to.

“Is that a threat?” The other clan head asks instead, and Shikaku sighs.

“No. A warning. Things are changing, as much as the Elder Council and the Hokage would like to pretend it’s not. You aren’t the only discontent clan. Hell, you aren’t even the only discontent shinobi,” he explains, half-lidded eyes carefully watching Shibi tilt his head.

“...I see.”

“Do you?”

Neither of them speak for another moment.

“What do you know of the KLG?” Shikaku asks after the silence has thickened, and the other man gives him a slow hum.

“That they are a nuisance. That they are simple civilians trying to take on what they do not understand. You believe differently,” he states softly.

“I do.”

The silence returns. But this time, Shibi is the one to break it.

“Why?”

Such a small question. Such a big answer. The KLG may be Konoha’s biggest threat, and yet most of the Shinobi are too blind to see it, unable to believe that civilians could ever be a threat. How could they be, when they are untrained to fight, to mould chakra, to ever take on a mere genin?

Except, those Shinobi do not realise that it’s not only civilians now.

“The status quo is changing. The KLG is recruiting career genin now, switching tactics to more... noticeable ones. They aren’t violent, not yet, but they could be. Someone has been teaching them. Leading them. Changing them.”

“A spy?” Shibi asks, and Shikaku shrugs, fingers moving down to fiddle with a pen.

“Perhaps. We have detained a member for... questioning. But this is where things get difficult. And maybe dangerous.” He taps the pen absentmindedly on the desk, eyes still staring into Shibi’s glasses.

“How so?”

Shikaku stops tapping.

“Because the one we’ve captured is Yamamoto Ryuuji, nickname ‘Ryuu’, resident of Uzumaki Nana’s former orphanage and by all accounts, a close friend of hers.”

Hyuuga Neji looks at the girl before him. He knows who she is. She’s a few classes below him, an outcast in every way, though he had heard that she was strong.

She’s also, according to his uncle, not to be interacted with.

And yet, if fate has led him here before her, then who is he to go against fate?

(If a small, vicious part takes delight in his rebellion, well, that’s his own concern.)

“I know who you are,” he says coldly, carefully taking in the ruffled girl’s appearance. She’s sweating and her breaths are deep, but she isn’t panting, and he finds himself respecting that. She is fated to be a failure, but at least she is strong.

Her eyes gleam at him.

“Oh? Well, it’s only polite for you to introduce yourself back, then, hm?” She replies, voice kind and cutting, and his eyes narrow.

“...Neji. Hyuuga Neji,” he says reluctantly, and the grin she gives back almost blinds him.

“Nice to meet you, Hyuuga-kun. Were you going to train here? Sorry to leave late, I was just finishing up my own training.”

He wonders why she’s asking him this. Why she’s even interested.

“Why are you training? Do you not realise that it is futile? You are a clanless orphan, with the barest of talents. Fate has chosen its course for you, and it is not a path of success. You should give up now, while you still have time,” he finally snaps out. Her smile does not waver at all, nor do her eyes wander. She looks like he’s complimented her, rather than tear her dream down, and he has to force himself not to snarl at her.

“That, Hyuuga-san, is not an option,” she says lightly, and he frowns as she comes closer. “Besides, who decides where my fate truly leads? What chosen path can I not stray on?”

“It does not matter whether you believe it or not, your mere heritage is enough to decide-” he tries to explain, but she interrupts him.

“Then by all accounts, Namikaze Minato should have never become the Yondaime. Or been able to defeat the Kyuubi. Would your ‘fate’ not say that that is futile? What of Maito Gai? He rarely uses ninjutsu, yet his taijutsu is powerful enough to make most fear his name. Tell me, how does your fate decide who lives and dies? Is it forced upon them? Or is it choice? Do we decide to follow fate’s path, or do we break away from it, and create our own?

“I wonder why you are so invested in fate showing your path, Hyuuga Neji, when you must be so tired of being told who you are.”

He freezes at her words, and a scowl starts to form, anger slowly bubbling up.

“How dare you,” he starts to say, but she cuts him off again.

“Look at me, and tell me you are happy on this path. Tell me you want to be a caged bird, forced to do the bidding of Elders who have not stepped out from the compound in years. Tell me that knowing your life is worth less than your fellow humans is something you can accept. Tell me that this system is right,” she drawls out, voice like a hiss, and he rears back, fist ready to punch her in the face.

“Shut up,” Neji snarls out. “You know nothing!”

His strike hits true and causes her to careen backwards, head snapping back at the force of his punch. She trips to the floor, falls in the mud, and he feels an icy satisfaction at her screwed up face.

“Don’t I? Do you know who I am, really? Do you notice the stares that follow me? The coldness, the refusal to look at me? Do you hear the whispers? Do you see the fear? I am meant to be a monster, a weapon to be wielded, and yet... I refuse. I will not be what they think I am. And if you decide, then perhaps you can do the same.” Her words ring out through her swollen mouth, and his eyes widen at the determination in her smirk.

“You...”

“Change the system, Hyuuga Neji. Don’t just be a passive bystander. Or do you believe that you’re the only one being hurt by this system? Do you think you’re the only one at risk? Your Elders hold the power of human slavery at their fingertips, and no-one has protested this.”

“It’s tradition,” he tries to say, but it’s weak to his own ears.

“It was tradition for the Senju and Uchiha to fight. It was tradition to not have Shinobi villages. It was tradition for women to stay home. Tradition changes, Neiji. Humans change. And you cannot be caught up in a time long gone, clinging to ideals that do not fit in the time you have to face now.”

She slowly stands up, wiping off the dirt on her clothes, and looks at him again, blue eyes seeming to look at his very soul.

“They’d kill me.” His words are quiet, softly lost into the wind, but she hears it.

“Then don’t die. Fight. Survive. Or die trying, knowing that at least you tried to make a change. Your death would inspire others to take up the flame and fight on. Think about it,” she replies, and a tanned hand is stretched out before him.

“You don’t have to decide now. But stop thinking about fate. Don’t let people who know nothing of the world today lead you around.”

His mind is blank as he takes her hand, and with one last knowing smile, she disappears. He’ll see her again, that he’s sure of.

Her words are swirling like a storm in his mind, making his katas wobbly and weak. It infuriates him at how such a silly little girl could worm into his thoughts like that, could make him doubt and question and wonder. What does she really know, anyway. Sure, she said some words about being alone, but this is different. He is caged, trapped in a prison that has no escape other than death. He is destined to serve, or die for going against it.

 And yet... her words linger like honey against fingers, sticky and sweet, and he hates it, because it gives some small, childish part of him hope. Hope that he could change things, hope that he could abolish the Caged Bird seal, hope that things could be better.

It is a fool’s hope, and he should know this. He should stomp it down, shred it to pieces, and go back to the real understanding of the world. But he can’t. Something holds him back, whispers to him to just wait, to try, and his stomach churns. He finds himself stopping his training halfway, unable to focus on anything but his encounter with Uzumaki Nana.

Hiashi-sama looks at him with narrowed eyes as he returns home, but leaves him alone soon enough, and he flees to his room.

I will not be what they think I am.

The words haunt him, echoing over and over in his brain, and he growls softly. He’s being foolish. He should stop this right now.

I wonder why you are so invested in fate showing your path, Hyuuga Neji, when you must be so tired of being told who you are.

Because that is how the world works, how the Hyuuga works. An outsider wouldn’t know, couldn’t know-

Tradition changes, Neiji. Humans change.

“Shut up,” he whispers softly to himself. “Shut up.”

Fight. Survive. Or die trying, knowing that at least you tried to make a change.

“Shut up!” He whirls around and launches a kunai at the wall, trying to force the words out of his head through movement.

“N-Neji-nii-san?” A soft voice asks from the door, and he turns his head to look at Hinata timidly looking at him. Embarrassment grips him, turns his face red from being caught at behaving like a foolish child, and he scowls.

“Apologies, Hinata-sama. I was out of line. Forgive me,” he forces out, watching as her face falls. It only infuriates him further. How dare she be so scared and shy, when the world around her would bow down to her? What did she have to fear?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“D-Dinner is r-ready,” she says in response, before fleeing away from him, as though he is the threat. She could have him killed with just a word, and yet she’s terrified of him. He gives a small grunt as he dislodges his kunai, throwing it down on his pack.

Nana’s words ring again, and suddenly, they make more sense. According to fate, Hinata should be... so wildly not Hinata. And yet... she isn’t. As the Hyuuga heir apparent, she shouldn’t be so timid and fearful, she should stand up straight and stare at the world with arrogance.

Do we decide to follow fate’s path, or do we break away from it, and create our own?

Maybe, he thinks with gritted teeth as he slowly makes his way to the dinner table, Uzumaki Nana is onto something.

Chapter Text

Everyone is entitled in full equality to a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, in the determination of his rights and obligations and of any criminal charge against him.

— Article 10 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

“That went surprisingly well,” Kurama murmurs as Nana walks away from Neji, and she can’t help but agree. There’s a grin on her face, and she feels almost... happy. Despite the odds, Nana knows she has managed to sow doubt into Neji’s mind. It’ll be slow going, but if she’s able to find him again, then she can continue their discussion, and maybe, just maybe, she can gain an ally. Out of everyone, Neji is the best person she could possibly have as an ally, his canon discontent and hostility making him a perfect option to convince to join her side. He’s stubborn though, and her mouth still stings from where he socked her in the face.

But even so, her smile doesn’t leave her face. It’s like a weight has been lifted off her chest, allowing her to breathe for the first time. She knows it’s ridiculous to feel this way, because who knows if Neji will really take her words to heart, or if he’ll just report her instead. And yet, a part of her is sure that he won’t go to a superior. That he’ll keep quiet, mull over her words until they burrow into his mind and stay there.

She should feel guilty for manipulating him, and she’s sure the shame and horror will settle into her later, but now is not the time for that. As Kurama has said, she cannot keep looking behind and doubting her actions. She’ll have to take actions that will disgust her, but they are a necessary evil.

Evil is evil, something hisses in her mind, furious and ashamed at what she’s letting herself be. She turns away from it. She knows, she knows, but if she wants to survive... then she’ll have to do this. Change requires sacrifices, she tells herself.

It doesn’t make the slimy feeling go away, and her smile dips into a frown, a quiet anger starting to swell in her heart.

She’s so tired of doubting herself, of constantly questioning every move she makes, of trying to find an ethical solution to an unethical world. She knows she has to question herself if she doesn’t want to become the very same person she has sworn to fight, but fuck, it makes everything so difficult.

She needs Neji on her side, no matter what. And if she has to use manipulation to do it, then... so be it. If she doesn’t, then isn’t she just dooming him to die a meaningless death, after all? There is no right answer. No matter what she does, she’ll stain her hands with blood. For who, however, is up to her to decide. Taking a shuddering breath, she forces her mind to calm down and become steady.

Nana has chosen her path, and she cannot let herself stray from it.

“Good, Nana. I know this is difficult for you, but it’s for the best,” Kurama whispers gently, words like a soothing balm against her own scathing thoughts.

Her feet take her back to her apartment without her noticing, and the moment she steps into her home, exhaustion crashes into her body. Today has been far more harrowing than she initially expected, and yet... she can’t bring herself to regret any of it. Her initial sympathy for Teru-sensei has disappeared in a flurry of fury at his contentment to pair her up with Uchiha Kamiko, a vicious, nasty girl who delights in showing off her superiority whenever she can.

She’s a child, a soft voice in her mind points out.

So am I, Nana hisses back, and for once, the voice doesn’t reply. Because that is the truth of the matter. She is both child and adult, both Nana and Elise, both nothing and everything. She can’t keep trying to hold herself up to a higher standard, while excusing the actions of those around her. It’s become clear that while her mind is that of an adult, it is still affected by the same childish urges as every other child.

It shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but the acceptance of that thought gives her a hesitant moment of respite. She lets out a heavy sigh. She’ll let herself be lenient in some aspects, but in others... she can’t be a hypocrite. She refuses to be one, and with the direction she’s currently heading in, she fears she’ll topple into that rabbit hole soon enough.

“Go to sleep, Nana. You’re exhausted. These thoughts are best addressed with a rested mind,” Kurama tells her kindly, and it’s enough make her stumble into bed and collapse, tugging off her clothes and tossing them haphazardly to the floor. The moment she’s curled up in the sheets, her eyes drift close, the comfort of her bed quickly lulling her into sleep.

Her week continues in a similar manner, except she does not see Neji again. Her classmates have ceased to bother her, and instead ignore her very existence, just like their parents. Teru-sensei never picks her first for a fight again, and seems content to pretend she isn’t in his class. While it means she has more energy for Gai’s training, it also means she isn’t being taught anything properly in the Academy. Her teacher skips over her when correcting the other students’ forms, he does not show her how to throw a kunai properly, and her homework is graded with no feedback or comments, or sometimes not returned at all. She is a ghost, and perhaps she could deal with that, if it wasn’t directly affecting her own training and studies. Gai is able to rectify most of the damage, but he can’t always be there for her. Not only that, but he believes her poor form is due to inexperience, rather than from a lack of teaching.

Every time Nana tries to tell him, she remembers the fury of Mizuki and Teru after Anko had become involved, and she finds herself biting her tongue. Instead, she tries to salvage what she can, praying that it’s enough. The original Naruto was lazy and ignorant, but if he had to undergo something similar to this, then it explains some of his behaviour. At the very least she has Gai to help her.

Despite her best efforts, Gai is a source of comfort to her. He’s a soothing balm at the end of a trying day, a voice of encouragement when she’s otherwise met with silence. He gives her something to look forward to, and that’s dangerous. But she can’t help it, not when he’s so open and honest about everything. He has had to work so hard for everything in his life, never complaining, never giving up. Instead he tackles every obstacle with the same grin and hope in his eyes. A bitter, callous part of her hates him for that, hates how he can be so kind and good while committing the same atrocities the rest of them do. She hates him because she knows that when push comes to shove, he’ll pick Konoha over her.

It fucking burns to know that. To know that even as a child, as his ‘beloved student’, she’ll still be less important that the orders of the Hokage. And even if he questions it one day, it won’t be until he has Lee in his life. She’s so selfish for being this bitter over a child who has to fight just as hard, if not harder to become someone people respect. She has always liked Lee, liked his determination and how he actually embodied the message Kishimoto tried to give through Naruto himself. But her mind doesn’t shut up, nagging softly that she’ll never live up to Lee, that Gai will never choose her, that she is alone. It tells her that she’s already inferior to someone she’s never met, and it makes her want to weep.

And yet, she can’t stop herself from smiling at Gai’s jokes, from accepting his generous affection and constant praise, even as Kurama whispers warnings in her ears. She knows, she tells him, she knows that it’s bad. But she can’t duck away. Would it be so bad to accept it for just a little while?

Kurama just scoffs at her, and falls back asleep.

One week goes by, then another and another, and soon October bleeds into November, then December. She learns how to mould chakra properly after weeks of trying, and mostly failing, to do the stupid leaf exercise. Gai explains to her that she has more chakra that most people, and how chakra control is of vital essence, particularly if she wishes to be able to fight with it or strengthen parts of her body. It’s infuriating to try and cycle her chakra through her body, an uncomfortable hum that seems to buzz beneath her skin. But Kurama entices her with learning illusions, and so she pushes on. Nana’s control will never be fine enough to be a med-nin, but by mid-December, she can circulate her chakra properly, as well as stick a few leaves to her body as she does so.

At the end of December, another basket is placed by her door, and Nana feels herself freeze. She approaches it warily, heart pounding in her chest as she prods at it from a distance. Once again, it doesn’t explode on her. Please don’t be more weapons, she prays quietly to herself, carefully peering into it. Three scrolls look back at her, parchment pristine and smooth. She cracks one open, and a note flutters into her lap.

She would have wanted you to have these.

There is no signature. Her eyes dart to the names of the first scroll, and her breath catches.

Uzu and Taijutsu, Uzumaki Yoko

With trembling hands, she opens up the other scrolls. A sob catches in her throat.

Sealing: Of Beauty and Battle, Volume 1, Uzumaki Mito

Someone has given her the belongings of her mother. She doesn’t know Uzumaki Kushina. Not really. But she knows how much she had loved her child, how eager and excited she was to finally meet her son. Nana doesn’t love Kushina, but more the idea of her. A mother who would love her unconditionally, who would support her endeavours no matter what, who would cheer her on when no-one else would.

Oh dear God, Gai is her mother. The thought is enough to snap her out of her tears and make her snort, imagining the exuberant Gai in a frilly apron and high pitched voice. No, maybe Gai is her only real reference of what a ‘good’ parent should be, but that doesn’t mean he’s her mother. Nana glances down at the scrolls again.

One day, she’ll meet Kushina. She wonders how she’ll react to her and her choices. Will she accept them and be proud? Or will she renounce her and cast her away? Her stomach roils at the thought, but she can’t help but clutch the scrolls tighter. Maybe Kushina will be disappointed in her. But Nana can pretend for a bit that she wouldn’t. That teaching herself the content of the scrolls would make her proud.

At the very least, she can tell herself it’s to further her goals. But if she treats them as though they are made of glass, then that’s her own business. She doesn’t touch the scroll on sealing, not yet. It’s always been warned as a volatile art, and the last thing she wants to do is blow herself up. So instead she pieces it slowly, learning the kata in the taijutsu book first.  

At the start of January however, Neji finally approaches her after Gai finishes up their training session. There’s a scowl on his face as he does so, but a small hint of determination in his blank eyes.

“How?” is the first thing he says to her, and she blinks at him slowly, waiting for him to continue. After a moment of hesitation, he elaborates.

“How do you propose changing the system? Remember, you said-,”

“I know what I said,” Nana interrupts, and she can’t stop the small smile on her lips. His scowl deepens, but he doesn’t try to scold her for talking over him. Instead, he looks at her, curiosity and hope and something desperate in his gaze. She swallows.

“It’ll take a long time,” she says, and he shrugs, brow furrowing.

“If it was easy, it would have happened sooner,” he argues back, and his arms cross impatiently. “Well?”

Nana pauses.

“It might be considered... treasonous.”

He doesn’t move. If anything, another spark of something is lit up in his face.

“Tell me.”

So she does.

She doesn’t tell him everything, of course. But she tells him of the injustice, of the way the system is designed to keep those seen as ‘lesser’ down at the bottom, and those gifted with the right blood at the top. She talks about abandoned orphanages, of children stolen away at night, and of the indifference they face every day. She tells him about the way children are trained and sent to fight pointless wars for leaders who sit back and watch. And he listens to every word, eyes growing wide and furious as she speaks.

She tells him about how the village passively accepts open slavery and torture of people they claim to protect. He breathes in sharply at that, and stands up, turning away from her without warning. His chest is heaving, fingers trembling as they grasp the bandages around his head.

“You want to change all of that?” He asks after a while, voice hoarse. He still does not look at her.

“Yes,” she admits, “but I can’t do it alone.”

Neji stays quiet for another minute or so, before whirling back to face her. His eyes are blazing with the fury of a child betrayed, of a person who has been pushed and pulled by people who claim to be better than him, of a human who has finally decided enough is enough.

“I don’t trust you. And a part of me doesn’t believe in your words,” he says tersely. “But I’ll help you.”

It sounds like a promise and a declaration, like a statement that he’ll make true no matter what.

It sounds like the bells of revolution, and Nana smiles, teeth bared to the world.

“That’s all I can ask for.”

“Danzo-sama. I overheard a conversation that could pose a threat to Konoha if left alone.”

Old, wrinkled hands pause in their writing, the ink pen slowly bleeding into the parchment.

“Report.”

“At 19:03, Uzumaki Nana and Hyuuga Neji held a conversation about the current state of Konoha, both expressing a desire to change the village to suit their own goals. Uzumaki Nana in particular was clear in her disdain for the current leadership and system. Hyuuga Neji appears mostly unconvinced, but was persuaded by the possibility of changing the Hyuuga clan,” the agent explains dutifully, voice neutral and blank. A perfect soldier. Just what Konoha needs.

Shimura Danzo does not reply immediately, instead carefully thinking over the information just given to him. Agent 395 is correct, this information could potentially cause even more turmoil in the village. The Konoha Liberation Group is proving to be a bigger pest than anticipated, and if they catch wind of two disgruntled shinobi children, then who knows what would happen. And yet, this could be advantageous to him.

A wry smile appears on his face.

The Hyuuga are arrogant bastards on the best of days, so assured of their own superiority that they forget their place. Perhaps, with a bit of guidance, this Hyuuga Neji can be a valuable asset in... changing the clan. Danzo himself would seal all of their eyes if possible, but if he can carefully manoeuvre the child to suit this aim, then it may prove fruitful. Uzumaki Nana is a more difficult subject. As jinchuuriki, she’s a vital asset to the village. Treasonous thoughts can be deadly, both to Konoha and herself. Finding another suitable candidate will require far too much time, and might not even work. So he’ll have to adapt instead. If he can present himself as a viable force for change, as someone different to Sarutobi and the rest, then perhaps she’ll fall in line.

If not... well, Aburame Hotaru might be useful after all.

“Keep watching them,” he finally orders, eyes turning back to his paper, a clear dismissal. Ignoring their salute and departure, he instead focuses on the plans beginning to unfold in his mind. He has his hands full with the Uchiha at the moment, but once they’ve been dealt with, he can place his full attention on this development.

“Uzumaki Nana,” he says softly, pen tapping gently against his desk.

Only time can tell if she’ll become an asset, or a threat.

With a snap of his fingers, he watches as another agent appears before him, fist over their heart as they await their order.

“Agent 628. Summon Aburame Hotaru to my office. Do not let anyone know where she is going. Make sure she knows the importance of keeping this secret.”

“Yes, Danzo-sama.” The agent disappears with his order, and Danzo leans back on his chair. The other villages smell blood in the water, and Konoha cannot afford to show weakness. Sarutobi’s actions during the Kumo Scandal had been bad enough, but the current tension inside the village itself only spells out disaster. The Uchiha, the KLG, Sarutobi himself, and now the Aburame and two children with thoughts of rebellion. Hiruzen has been weak for too long now, too unwilling to face the music and grasp the village with the iron fist it needs.

Konoha has become weak, too focused on maintaining the image as the ‘nice village’, while their enemies laugh and grow stronger. Their world has no place for ‘niceness’. Only survival and strength, two things Konoha is currently lacking. The Uchiha are growing bolder with each day, the KLG are starting to use tactics obtained from an unknown source, Sarutobi continues to bury his head in the sand, and the Aburame’s threat of leaving is not an empty one. Two children should not be this dangerous, but in the current climate, they are. If he cannot steer them towards protecting the village, then he will have to dispose of them quickly, no matter what Sarutobi says.

Danzo’s loyalty is not to the Hokage, and Sarutobi knows this. But that’s why he lets him continue his machinations, no matter how distasteful they are. Both of them know that Konoha comes before everything. And yet Sarutobi is a coward, unable to face the things that have to be done for the village. Danzo scoffs in derision. Let the old fool sit in the Hokage Tower and pretend he’s not responsible for the things Danzo does.

Danzo will do what he must to protect Konoha.

No matter the cost.

Yamamoto Ryuu is fucked. He knows this like he knows that the sky is blue, that his family depends on him, and that Konoha is a cesspit of corruption that has to be cleaned. He had known that joining the Konoha Liberation Group came with heavy risks, and he had accepted those risks without second thought. He would still accept them, even now. But that doesn’t stop the fear that blooms in his body. Dying is one thing, but torture... torture is a completely different class. Ryuu swallows nervously as the grizzled old shinobi in front of him continues to watch him and say nothing. They haven’t touched him yet, haven’t even asked him any questions, but he knows without a doubt that they’ll come soon enough.

The shinobi finally slams his hands down on the iron table, and Ryuu jumps at the sound, ears ringing.

“Conspiracy to instigate violence, conspiracy to commit treason, attempted arson, attempted assault, disturbance of the Hokage’s Peace, and many, many more. You’re a kid with quite a few crimes to your name, huh?”

Ryuu does not answer, and the shinobi snorts.

“The KLG is dangerous, kid. I’m sure they lured you in with false promises and words, but all they do is lie. And now you’re in this mess, facing execution. And for what? For a group of glorified civilians who don’t understand the slightest thing about shinobi? You’re a fucking fool for getting mixed up with them, Ryuuji,” he says derisively, and Ryuu wants to shout and protest, wants to spit in this man’s face and scream about the hypocrisy and indifference the shinobi show their precious villagers-

The seal on his tongue burns, and he stays quiet. The shinobi drums his fingers, eyes narrowed at his continued refusal to talk, before the man finally sighs.

“Look, all of this can easily be forgiven. We received reports that you’re the one coming up with... more violent tactics. Thing is, those tactics are remarkably similar to those in Kiri. So, Ryuuji, who’s been feeding you information?”

Ryuu doesn’t say anything.

He can’t.

Tobi had been clear in what the seal would do, and he can’t bring himself to regret it. When the masked man had first approached him, Ryuu had been sceptical and hostile to say the least. But the man had started to advise him on how to approach Konoha, explaining how violent protest was the only way to get the village to listen. And Ryuu had asked him more. If he could tell the KLG this, if they could get organised enough... then they could make a change. Real change.

And so a deal was struck.

In exchange for his silence, Ryuu would learn everything that Tobi knew about creating a proper resistance. He most likely had his own reasons for it, but the KLG had taught Ryuu to take every opportunity offered to him. So he did. And once he began advising, he shot through the ranks, soon finding himself actually getting paid. He could afford to get Kanna that new soap she had sighed about, was able to get Yuji a book on the history of Ame, could give the other orphans all the little things they want, but never have enough money to get.

Perhaps he sold his soul to the devil, but Ryuu can’t bring himself to regret it.  

Not when it made Kanna smile for the first time in months, not when it made Kyoko laugh like they've never done before, not when he was able to make things easier for his family. It’s that thought that lets him square his shoulders and stare the shinobi head on.

Nana would have done the same. She would have been defiant until the bitter end, face twisted in a scowl. She’s so young, and yet... there was something old and wise about her. Talking to her had always been a curious endeavour, causing him to question everything and everyone, even when she probably hadn’t meant to. He misses her. She was too clever for her own good. So Konoha took her.

Just like they take everything.

But he refuses to let them take these secrets, to steal away their only chance at fighting back. He left Kanna a note with instructions to track down Nana and give it to her, should the worst happen. And staring into the cold eyes of the shinobi before him, Ryuu knows that it probably will.

The months pass by with a surprising amount of stability, a steady routine that keeps Nana focused. The Academy is as brutal as ever, but for once, she isn’t alone. Teaming up with Neji has lifted a weight on her shoulders, kindling a small hope that perhaps they can actually do this. She knows that she still doesn’t have Neji’s complete trust, but for now, they are allies. They both want similar things, and planning with two heads is easier than one. He still doesn’t know the full extent of her intentions, instead only believing that her sights are set on Konoha and Konoha alone. The time isn’t right yet. It would scare him away, and she’s grown... used to his presence.

Nana can almost pretend she has a friend.

Gai is an ever present fixture in her life, and she finds herself grateful for it. His training is as brutal as ever, but she finds herself slowly growing stronger, able to slip into katas with barely a second thought, running laps around the village where before she would have been gasping for air. She’s proud of how far she’s come, even if the progress is small. She’s steadily making her way through her mother’s scrolls as well, and Nana finds herself adapting to the Uzu kata with an ease that surprises her. Gai watches her curiously the first time she slips into an Uzu stance, but he only looks at her with a soft smile and doesn’t say anything.

She’s finally looked at the sealing scrolls, and they make her head spin. There are so many details, so many intricacies, and she can barely focus on them all. Instead she has to forge through it piece by piece, trying to hammer in concepts that make the barest amount of sense to her. This, she decides, would be a lot easier with a teacher. But this is a secret ace up her sleeve, and trying to get a teacher would alert the wrong people. So for now, she’ll have to struggle alone.

The Academy finishes in late June, and she finds herself passing into the next grade, despite her lack of education. She won’t be placed with her current peers however, and instead she finds her next instructor is one Umino Iruka. It makes her swallow in worry, before she steels herself.

Nana finds herself... not content, but at ease. The panic attacks have lessened, the bitterness has receded, and she finds herself more comfortable in her body and role. For once, things are going her way.

And then July hits.

Chapter Text

Everyone charged with a penal offence has the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law in a public trial at which he has had all the guarantees necessary for his defence.

— Article 11(1) of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

The thing about being reincarnated into a world of which you have little to no real concrete knowledge for, is that certain events get... lost at the wayside. Not forgotten, but their exact dates are obscured, unknown.

Uncertain. Dangerously so even.

This is further complicated when the world in question has a timeline that’s as consistent and trustworthy as a magic eight-ball. Nana knows that she can’t rely on convoluted knowledge in this world, and yet... she can’t help but blindly follow an unknown timeline based on what small titbits of information she’s gleaned from her memories.

So when she’s shaken awake one July night, she knows something awful has happened. She swallows a shriek when she a masked individual shakes her awake, clamping down on her shoulder. She opens her mouth to scream, but they shush her quickly, gloved hand coming to silence her.

“There has been a security breach. You will be taken to a secure location while the breach is dealt with," they tell her with steel in their voice.

That is all the information she receives before she is whisked away into the night, and deposited in a cold, concrete room. She’s still in her thin pyjamas, chosen to try and cool down in the humid Konohan heat, but now she regrets her choice. From the coolness of the room, she guesses she’s underground. The person who took her wore an ANBU mask, and didn’t seem to be part of ROOT, but... she swallows, and casts a wary eye to the locked door and simple cot.

If she’s been taken by Danzo, then that’s it. It’s over. There’s not much she can do. Maybe she can find a way to ignore the conditioning, but she isn’t confident in her own mental fortitude to do so.

She forces herself to sit down on the threadbare cot. A stuffed frog sits on the pillow, and she reaches over to grab it, not even thinking about whether it’s a trap or not. It’s not until she smooths the fabric beneath her thumbs does she realize. Damn her ADHD for making her immediately latch on to anything touchable. The older part of her tells her to drop it and kick it as far away as possible. The child in her is desperate to keep hold of it.

Her hands grip tighter. She’s exhausted. Both physically and mentally. She’s locked in a concrete room, with no indication of when she’ll be let out, with no comfort or security.

Nana buries her face into the soft fabric, and tries not to cry.

She stays that way for several moments, the silence surrounding her an oppressive force that steals her breath away. But it isn't until she’s curled up on the cot, fingers threaded into the blanket to try and retain heat, that Kurama speaks to her.

“Do you have any idea what could be counted as a major security breach?” His voice is neutral, but there’s something... prodding about it. She shrugs.

“I mean, if this were four years ago, I’d have said it was the Hyuuga Incident, but since I’m seven... The only other thing I can think of is-”

Nana chokes on her tongue, sharp teeth biting down and drawing blood as it hits her.

Why would Konoha be so worried about securing their Jinchuuriki, if there wasn’t currently an enemy in Konoha capable of stealing her... or controlling her?

A part of her tries to think of another reason, that maybe something that isn’t canon has occurred, but-

But she can’t lie to herself.

Tonight, Uchiha Itachi has murdered his family and clan, traumatising his younger brother by torturing him mentally over and over.

Tonight, the Uchiha Massacre occurred.

And she knew nothing about it.

Nana wants to vomit. Wants to vomit and weep for an inevitable event she had knowledge of, a tragedy that she perhaps could have prevented or changed in some way- but was still blind as to when it happened. She knows better than anyone that horrific acts don’t always happen with a bang. Oftentimes, they’re silent. Quiet. Unheard.

With her head buried into the soft green fur of a toy frog, Nana weeps for the young boy tortured by his older brother, weeps for a boy forced to kill his whole family after being entangled in the games of old men, weeps for a people who were cut down for wanting change.

Kurama lets her mourn, but she can feel his judgement and disgust.

“There was nothing you could have done,” he tells her grimly, “unless you wanted to break our deal sooner rather than later.”

The accusation leaves her reeling, teeth falling onto her sore tongue again in surprise. Blood wells up once more, filling her mouth with its coppery taste, but all she can think of are his words, dripping like vinegar from his lips.

“How could you-? I wouldn’t-!” she tries to feebly deny, but a huff stops her.

“Why not? You’re human after all, filled with such pesky emotions that cause you to doubt and worry and flinch any time you’re told about something unsavoury. You begin to tire me, Nana.”

It is an ultimatum and a threat, one that she cannot afford to ignore. Her throat clogs, a hollow cavity carved into her chest that fills with fear and desperation. She squeezes the frog tighter, fingers practically tearing into the soft stuffing.

She cannot lose Kurama. He is her biggest ally in this, no matter how unwilling or manipulative he is.

Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, the taste of blood on her tongue, and she lets out a shuddering breath.

“I’m trying. This isn’t easy for me. I’m... not used to this.”

“And it is easy for me?”

He’s manipulating her. She knows he is, and it makes her want to choke. She knows that Kurama’s assistance does not come without cost. She knows that his agreement in this is fuelled by some unknown motivation, but she has forced herself to ignore why he agreed to help her so readily. She is already surrounded by enemies. She can’t afford to have one trapped in her mind as well.

But it still hurts. Because he has given her soft affection, quiet encouragement when all she wants to do is scream. His kindness is easy to fall into, no matter the price that accompanies it.

(It is a deal with a devil, the older part of her whispers, mournfully shaking its head at how easily she falls into his trap. Because for all Nana thinks that she is an adult, that she is Elise, she is not. Nana is a child with the memories of a grown woman, her identity smeared like blood on a wall, unidentifiable until she finally washes it off and chooses. But until then, she is not-Elise, not-Nana, and is instead a lost child trying to carry the weight of a world she doesn’t understand on her shoulders.)

“I’m sorry,” Nana says instead. For what, she isn’t sure. There is blood on her hands now. Blood that she allowed to be spilt through her inaction, through her distance. It was a necessary evil, but... evil is still evil.

She condemned children to die.

Condemned them to commit crimes no-one should ever commit.

“You could not have stopped this. This is the last time I will tell you this, Nana. Accept it and move on, or wallow and destroy yourself in this futile self-flagellation. I have no interest in assisting a human unwilling to uphold their side of the deal,” he snarls out, the kind voice she’s begun to associate with him finally torn away.

Something furious bubbles up in her stomach, and she wants to scream at him, wants to shake him and make him understand that she can’t just shove her feelings away and pretend that nothing is wrong. She swallows and it feels like shards of glass are sliding down her throat.

“Forgive me for being human,” she hisses out, “forgive me for weeping when-!” When I have to live with the knowledge that I looked at innocent children, and decided their lives were worth less than my own, than my knowledge of the future, she continues in her mind.

“You did not kill them.”

“But I let them be!” she shrieks out, the volume of her voice startling her. She sucks in a deep breath, eyes darting towards the concrete walls and iron door, praying that no passer-by heard her. She wouldn’t be surprised if there are guards waiting outside right now.

She waits a moment, ears straining as though she could hear a trained shinobi close by, before sighing softly. In a quieter voice, she mumbles: “I know I didn’t kill them. But my inaction... how am I any different from... you know?” How am I different from the Hokage, she doesn’t say. Am I any different from Danzo?

Neither of them speak for a few seconds, before Kurama laughs, ugly and harsh, the sound ringing like church bells over and over in her mind.

“The difference is that you are a child, Nana, whether you like it or not. Do not be so foolish, so self-centred, you stupid little girl. Do you honestly believe you could have changed anything? Could have saved those children you keep on blubbering about? You would have died, and I would suffer for it. And that is the best case. More likely you would have been taken away and sequestered somewhere until your brain rots into an empty canvas, and all your hopes and dreams for change would be dripping down a drain as you slaughter people for this cursed village.

“I see now that I have been too soft on you. Too kind, too human. That changes today.” His voice burns like venom against her skin, words spat out with such vitriol it makes her flinch.

“Stop moping about and making the same repetitive justifications, and instead actually start doing something.”

And that- What can she say to that? How can she argue that no, it isn’t that simple, she needs to plan, to think, to-

To what?

Her sharpened teeth gnaw viciously at her lip, and she wonders if perhaps Kurama is right. All she’s doing right now is making things more complicated, tying herself up with strands of hesitance and anxiety, cautiously trying to maintain the status quo while wanting to change it.

She is a coward. A silly little girl trying to pretend she knows best, when really, she’s just spiralling down into the same arguments over and over again. She keeps on saying she’ll snap out of it... but does she ever really? The Uchiha Massacre, Kurama, they’re a wakeup call.

Nana can’t keep doing this. She can’t keep on arguing in her mind, trying to justify positions that don’t matter at the moment. Right now, she isn’t a lawyer. She isn’t in her old world, where despite the violence and injustices it had, there was some semblance of order. Something she could follow.

Here, she has to adapt.

How can she think about change and consequences, when right now she has to learn how to survive? Her current position affords her no help, no assistance. Not when she keeps on refusing to acknowledge what she has to do.

Blood pools on her tongue again, the taste of iron a heavy weight in her mouth.

Nana will have to kill. She will have to fight.

The world can’t continue like this. Not if she wants it to change.

And maybe she shouldn’t do it. Maybe she should give in to the plot and let it plan out as needed, but she can’t. She can’t let herself stand idly by as people suffer, as her orphans keep on being thrown to the mud, as children like Itachi and Sasuke are victims of leaders who see their people as nothing more than pawns.

She takes a deep breath. Swallows down the blood.

“Okay,” she whispers. There is no fight left. Not with this. “Okay.”

“Then go to sleep and stop thinking. Work towards your goal. Pick up the weapons you want to ignore. Shove your thoughts away, human, and start to fight. Tomorrow, you train,” he snarls out, voice harsh and unyielding.

She nods soundlessly, forcing her eyes shut as she puts her head on the pillow, drowning her shame with determination.

Nana isn’t sure how long she stays in that room, but it is afternoon when she is finally released. She stumbles back to her home, grabs her Taijustu scrolls and weapons, and begins to train. Shame bubbles up within her at the sight of her hand clasped around the kunai, but she shakes it away.

(Nana doesn’t know what she’s more ashamed of; her recent inaction, or the fact that she has just taken a step closer to becoming a monster. Where will her decision lead her? What path does she tread down?)

(Will she regret it?)

Shibi stares at the missive declaring Uchiha Itachi a traitor, at the words spelling out a lockdown and curfew, at the soft orders to be ready to defend Konoha from attacks from other villages hoping to prod at their weakened force. There will be an emergency meeting between clan heads tomorrow evening, but for now, Shibi is not required. His lips press into a thin, trembling line, the soft parchment denting beneath his fingers, and every fibre of his being screams at him to run.

Every single Uchiha with the sole exception of Sasuke, Fugaku’s youngest son, is dead. Even the ones on missions out of the village. Even the civilians.

It reeks of interference, of outside influence, because as strong as he is, there’s no way Itachi was able to single-handedly murder every single member of his clan. No, he had help.

Shibi wants to vomit.

He had only approached Fugaku three days ago, hoping to gain an alliance in seceding from the village. He had hoped the two clans could work together to demand change, and the Uchiha clan head had even seemed willing to discuss it further.

But now Fugaku is dead. All the Uchiha are dead.

He drops the missive, and walks mechanically to Shino’s room. Stares at his sleeping son, the same age as Sasuke. How can the village have allowed this to happen? Who allowed this to happen?

Perhaps Itachi did finally lose control, but he doubts that it occurred without anyone assisting his breakdown. He thinks of Shino growing up, thinks of Torune and how Danzo stole him away in place of his son. He wonders whether Itachi was stolen as well, if his son and Torune will be destined to follow in these footsteps. Blood wells up in his mouth at the thought, and he turns away, knuckles white from clenching his fists.

He cannot let that happen.

He refuses to let that happen.

Konoha has proven to be an enemy tonight, or at least, the home to an enemy, and the Aburame will not become another puppet of theirs. He will not let Konoha twist them to their desires until nothing but blood and hatred remains.

The truth is simple: the Aburame cannot stay in Konoha. Not anymore.

A soft scrape catches his attention, and his eyes dart over to his wife, standing quietly with the missive in her hands. She does not look at him.

“Hotaru,” he whispers, hand reaching out to grab her. “Hotaru, get... get your things together. Prepare. This... The Aburame clan cannot stand for this.”

She says nothing, her fingertips brushing over the kanji.

A bug flies out and lands on his hand, carefully eating chakra in sudden, varying bursts. A message, he realises. The Aburame code, taught to every member of their clan so that they can convey secret messages without enemies knowing or realising. The implications of it turn his heart into ice.

There are enemies here.

“Hotaru-?”

N O

D A N Z O

T H R E A T

S H I N O

“It’s awful, my love. I can’t believe Itachi would turn on us like that,” Hotaru says softly, eyes rising to meet his. “With luck the village will capture him soon. Otherwise something similar could happen again.”

I F 

L E A V E

U S

S A M E

U C H I H A

His mouth feels dry. He can’t speak, and his wife approaches him softly, carefully leading his away from the main room.

P R O T E C T 

S H I N O

“The Hokage has called for me, Shibi. With everything that’s happened... my house arrest cannot remain.”

“That is... good. I hope you will be safe, my dearest,” he replies quietly, and the look she gives him makes him want to vomit.

“Of course I will be. Trust in your wife’s abilities!” Her tone is joking as they enter their bedroom, scroll deposited somewhere along the way.

“Naturally, my love. Have you already received a mission?”

“I have, yes. A simple C-Rank, all I need to do is patrol the perimeter to make sure that the news of the Massacre does not spread far. The other villages may want to take advantage of the situation.”

The conversation between them is stilting, unnatural, as Hotaru silently etches warnings into his chakra. Shibi feels as though he is dreaming. He wets his lips, gives a weak nod to his wife.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow night. I will probably be away for the rest of the week, but am likely to return before the month is up. Look after Shino, yes?” she teases softly, before sweeping him up into an embrace.

I

L O V E

Y O U

“The Hokage has called for a meeting between the Clan Heads tomorrow as well, has he not? You will have to update me when I get back,” she continues to say, as though the arms around him are not holding him in a desperate embrace.

“Yes, he has. He advised that it would be best not to meet today as the forces will be focused on tracking Itachi down.”

“Understandable. Come, it is late, and I need to prepare for tomorrow.” She goes to release him, but he clutches her closer, unwilling to let her go just yet.

“I love you, Hotaru,” he chokes out. Something wet falls onto his shoulder, and he swallows back tears he does not understand.

I M 

S O R R Y

“And I you,” she whispers back.

Aburame Hotaru is reported as killed in action four days later. There is no body to bring home. Enemy shinobi, the briefing says, she was too untrained to return back into combat after months of inaction.

The lie is a poison that wraps itself around Shibi’s heart.

For the first time, he hates Konoha.

It will not be the last.

July slowly slides away, even as thoughts of the Massacre remain. Nana refuses to let herself think further on it. If she was able to lock away her thoughts and memories of the bad cases as a lawyer, then she can do the same here.

Maybe it isn’t the same. Maybe it’s harmful. But she has to. If she wants to live with her guilt, with the decision she’s made, then she has to fight. A fire smoulders in her stomach, heavy yet freeing, fueling her with an energy and enthusiasm she had struggled to find before. Hyperfixation. She isn’t letting herself focus on her thoughts anymore, so her mind has sought out something else to think on. ADHD is difficult most days, but sometimes it helps.

Gai comes by shortly after the Massacre, face lined with worry and grief as he tells her that he will be unable to train her for a while, holding her close in a tight embrace that she lets happen. There are tears in his eyes, his voice is choked, and her heart aches for this kind man. Perhaps he is a killer, but he is a good man.

Why had Nana been so determined to separate the two before? She can no longer apply the morality of her old world here, not anymore. Killing is the standard here. She won’t forgive the Hokage or Danzo, but Gai... she can forgive Gai. When he leaves with a promise to visit, with the warmth of his hug still lingering around her, she forgives him. She only hopes that he’ll forgive her when she starts to defy Konoha.

The thought brings a lightness to her steps, a guiding light for her to follow after dithering in the dark for so long. She will change things. If not for her, then for her orphans, for Gai, for Neji. They don’t deserve to live in a world like this, and if she has to become a monster to free them, then... she’ll do it.

Neji does not appear for their training sessions for a while, only turning up once to tell her that the entire clan is on lockdown while they make ‘internal investigations’ to ‘prevent such a tragedy from occurring with the Hyuuga’. The way he spits it out makes her skin crawl, and she can’t stop herself from grabbing his hand.

“Be safe,” she tells him desperately. He stares at her for a moment, eyes wide in shock, before giving her hand a single squeeze.

“I’ll try.”

He disappears as quickly as he came, leaving her to continue training alone. Her movements are more fluid now, but she knows that her form is undoubtedly full of holes due to the lack of a teacher and sparring partner.

The Academy starts up, and she finds herself surrounded by familiar strangers, faces she only knows through a story she never read, but is now in. It feels like slowly being choked, because now she really can’t deny anything anymore, not when she looks at the children in her class and knows who they will become. Just like her first class, she finds herself isolated, though the Shinobi children are far better behaved than the civilians.

Iruka is... strange to have as a teacher. Just like her last one, he tries to ignore her most of the time, but he treats her less like a non-existent entity, and more like a troublemaker who shouldn’t be given attention. As a result, her work gets comments and criticism, whereas before, she simply got a grade. Not only that, but he’s genuinely invested in improving her mistakes in class, though he gets disproportionately more annoyed with her than with anyone else. Still, she’ll take him over Teru or Mizuki.

She doesn’t have to deal with the latter much, but when he interferes, he does it well, usually causing her to learn something full of holes or otherwise incomplete, which makes Iruka yell at her for not paying attention, while she stumbles backwards to figure out where she went wrong.

Mizuki is an arsehole, and his treatment of her makes her blood boil. Iruka is on thin ice, and god, how desperate must she be to consider Iruka’s own form of hatred more tolerable than the more overt cases. Maybe he’s kind to her version of Naruto, but right now, he’s lashing out at a fucking eight year old for something they had no control over.

Time passes fairly slowly, but Nana finds herself learning more and more, while her hands tremble less and less. She can hold her weapons without wanting to cry and beg for forgiveness, she can spar with her classmates without constantly hesitating in the fear of hurting children. It makes Kurama proud, but the sour pit in her stomach remains.

It’s a necessary evil, she tells herself. Once she’s strong enough to change things, she never has to do anything again.

She can do this.

She has to do this.

(Maybe if she keeps telling herself that, she’ll eventually believe it.)

Kanna stares at the door in front of her, trembling hands clutched around a slip of paper. It’s been almost a year since she’s seen Nana, and now that she has the opportunity to... she swallows heavily.

She’s been so desperate to hold her child again, to comfort her through the brutal training she must be going through, but any time she asked for her location, Kanna would be denied.

“Civilian interference is not recommended. You would just interrupt her studies,” a receptionist at the Shinobi Housing Association told her, refusing her request without any thought. It made her furious the first few times, but after being threatened with arrest... she stopped.

Now though... now she has to talk to Nana. How Ryuu got her address, she has no idea, and god knows she can’t ask him now, but it’s a gift she won’t question. Can’t question.

After another moment of hesitation, she raises her fist to knock at the door. The crumpled piece of paper tucked inside her clothes presses against her stomach like a knife, and she is hyperaware of the fact that if she’s caught with this, she’ll be executed.

Kanna wonders if that’s what happened to Ryuu.

A few minutes pass, and no-one answers. She looks cautiously to the side, watching the identical doors of Nana’s neighbours to make sure no-one is going to come out to investigate – and knocks again, more desperately this time.

She has to talk to Nana. Not just for her own sake, but for Ryuu’s too. Her darling child has to be told what happened, has to learn what Ryuu told her, has to know-

“K-Kanna?” A voice stutters out behind her, and she whirls around, breath stolen at the sight of the little girl in front of her.

“Nana,” she whispers out, hand automatically reaching out to grab her, and the younger girl latches on. But she doesn’t linger.

“You can’t be seen here,” she hisses out softly, eyes darting around in worry, and Kanna feels her heart sink. But Nana doesn’t let go. Instead, she opens her door and pulls her inside, quickly locking behind them.

“Were you followed?”

“N-No, I don’t think so?”

“Good. Good.”

For a moment, neither of them move. And then Nana smiles, a small, sad thing, which makes Kanna want to weep. She rushes over to the child and pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly against her chest.

“God... I missed you so much,” Nana says, voice choked with emotion, and Kanna can’t keep her own tears from falling.

“I’m here. I’m here, little one. Everything will be okay.”

For a little while, Kanna forgets about the letter stuffed into her clothes, forgets about Ryuu and their missing status, forgets that they are in a village that would punish the two of them for doing this.

For now, they are just family, family that has finally found their way back to each other, and that’s all they need.

Chapter Text

No one shall be held guilty of any penal offence on account of any act or omission which did not constitute a penal offence, under national or international law, at the time when it was committed. Nor shall a heavier penalty be imposed than the one that was applicable at the time the penal offence was committed.

— Article 11(2) of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

“So...” Nana says, after they’ve both calmed down and settled on her bed. “You’re... here.”

She still can’t believe it. It feels like a dream, a fantasy- but one that could sour into a nightmare at any moment. And by the look on Kanna’s face, she gets the idea that it will soon become just that. Her old caretaker hurriedly pushes a piece of paper towards her, hidden in the folds of her sleeve. To the untrained eye, it looks like she’s reaching out to grab her by the hands. The crinkle of the paper reveals the truth however.

“Ryuu’s gone,” Kanna whispers mournfully, blinking back tears.

Nana feels like she’s been hit in the chest, a heavy blow that forces the wind out of her lungs and sends a throbbing ache throughout her heart.

“What?” she breathes out, throat closing around the word.

Her caretaker swallows nervously, a shuddering breath escaping her lips as she gave a helpless shrug.

“I don’t know if he’s... dead. But... there’s a good chance he is. He hasn’t come back home for days, and when I checked his work... they said he quit months ago. But he was still bringing in some money, had even told us that he was given a raise. But now... I don’t know what to think. He was- He’s gone, Nana. And he left this for you.”

She says the last part quietly, the words barely audible, even in the silence.

The paper almost seems to burn in Nana’s smaller hands, the folds and creases slowly wearing into her skin.

“Why?” She can’t stop the question spilling out of her lips, and Kanna gives a broken laugh, tears shining in her eyes.

“He got himself mixed up in something he never should have touched. Especially not with you involved. I- I can’t tell you, Nana. If I’m caught here, then they might be lenient, but if they find out about the note, about- I can’t risk it. I can’t.”

Not even for you.

Her face is stricken with grief and despair, so torn between telling the child she basically raised everything, and keeping her own life safe. And Nana... Nana can’t fault her for that. Not when Kanna still has mouths to feed, not when she’s done so much already. Instead, she nods slowly, squeezes the older girl’s hands to let her know that it’s okay, that she isn’t angry. A dry sob escapes Kanna, and she kneels down, arms wrapping tightly around her smaller body.

“I’m so sorry,” Kanna weeps out harshly, ragged breaths escaping her lips. “I’m so, so sorry, Nana.”

I’m sorry too, she thinks, burying her face into the worn cotton of Kanna’s shirt. They stay entwined for a moment longer, before the older girl pulls away, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

“Can I be honest, Nana?” she says hoarsely, and Nana nods, hand clutching at the hem of her shirt. Kanna gently lifts her face up, hand cupping her cheek. Her fingers tremble against her skin, and Nana can barely breathe.

“Burn the note. Please. Whatever he wrote, whatever he wanted to tell you... it’s dangerous. He was mixed in with something bigger than himself, bigger than all of us, and you shouldn’t be involved in that. Not when it got him- I would have burned it myself, but I... I wanted to see you and give you the choice. So just- promise me. Don’t get involved.”

Kurama’s laugh echoes inside her skull as the weight of the words settle in the air.

“If only she knew that you were already damned. What will you do, Nana? Will you lie and let her sleep without fear at night? Or will you tell her the truth and drag her down with you?”

Goosebumps flood across Nana’s arms, and her jaw pulses with the beginnings of an ache from Kanna’s hold. The fingers against her cheek tighten in an almost bruising grip, and finally, she wrenches herself away. But the tension does not shatter. Kanna doesn’t look away from her, even as her lips tremble with choked down sobs.

Nana swallows nervously.

Lie, or tell the truth.

Put Kanna at ease, or worry her even more.

Keep her safe, or put her in danger.

Whatever the choice, her bond with Kanna would be broken. There would be no going back.

“Okay.”

Her caretaker’s eyes slide shut, and her face goes blank.

(She always could tell when she was lying. But Nana can’t bring herself to regret it. It is a dismissal, both kind and cruel, to the woman who raised her. She only hopes that Kanna understands.)

Silence lingers between them for a moment, before Kanna opens her eyes again, a sad smile on her face. Nana’s mouth feels dry, tongue sticking to the bottom of her mouth and choking off any words she might have wanted to say.

“I’m glad.”

And that’s that. What else is there to say after all? Nana will keep these children safe, even if she has to cut them all off to do so. Because in the end, whatever she does, they will be dragged in and questioned. They will be interrogated and examined to make sure they didn’t collaborate with her. The least she can do for them is give them the protection of ignorance.

Ryuu died to give this letter to her.

She wouldn’t damn Kanna to the same fate.

Something must show on her face, because her caretaker lets out one last sob, before launching herself at her, arms wrapping tightly around her smaller body. But before she can say anything, Kanna hisses something out to her beneath her breath.

“Ryuu told me... told me that your guard rotation has changed to one ANBU per night, but there are eyes everywhere. Your bathroom is a blind spot. Be careful, Nana. There’s... something rotten.”

Kurama laughs and laughs and laughs at the words, even as a scream crawls up her throat. Because Ryuu died for her. Ryuu was taken away for her. To gain information that she shouldn’t know, that any of them should know. But Kanna has come here and risked it all to hand her the letter and words of a traitor, of a boy who held so much fury in his skin that he couldn’t keep standing by.

He was her brother.

He was her brother. Her sibling. Her sister.

He was hers.

And they took him from her. Just like they’ll take everyone else.

“Please, Nana,” Kanna begs softly, “please be safe.”

And Nana buries her face into her neck, breathes in Kanna’s soft scent of detergent and cheap perfume, and forces herself to nod, even as the grief and rage settles deep in her stomach.

“I’ll try,” she chokes out, bile upon her tongue.

“That’s all I ask for. All I’ve ever asked for.”

They linger there for one last second, before pulling away.

“...I should go,” Kanna says, voice quiet. Nana can only nod, lips pressed firmly together as she walks the older girl over to her door.

She leaves as quietly as she came, hurrying off down the corridor and disappearing into the stairwell without even a second glance.

It’s getting dark, after all.

Nana calmly shuts her door, letter scraping against her skin beneath her sleeve. She does not pull it out. Instead, she shuffles over to her bathroom, quietly closes the door, and crawls into the shower. The cool ceramic presses into her back as she settles, even as she curls up into a ball.

She feels scraped out and hollow, and she’s grateful for Kurama’s silence as she tries to stumble through the thoughts that race inside her mind. Ryuu is dead. Her brother, her sibling-

He’s dead.

The emptiness in her chest seems to gape further, and she wonders if the dull ache behind her ribcage is from the contortion of her body, or from grief.

She wonders if it even matters.

“Ryuu’s dead.” Her voice is tinged with acrid bitterness, and she can’t stop the exhaustion from flooding her body. She’s so tired of this.

“It appears so, yes,” Kurama replies, a gentle rumble in his chest.

The sink gurgles quietly, and she finds herself focusing on the soft glug, glug, glug, the sound echoing in time to her own thoughts.

Ryuu is dead.

“Is this it?” she finally asks. “Is this what it’s going to be like?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

Nana scoffs.

“Open the paper, read what he said, but then what? What am I- Fuck!”

She lets out a wordless yell, fingers tangling into her hair and yanking the strands. Pain travels down her spine, and she shudders violently, letting her head drop down into her knees. Kurama stays quiet, and she can just imagine him lying down comfortably, paws crossed, as he waits for her to calm down.

“So that’s it then. My brother is dead or worse, my sister just put herself in a similar position to deliver his explanation, and I’m just supposed to read it and continue. God, this is... You know this is fucked up, right? That none of this is normal, is fair-?!” she chokes out, and her eyes finally start to sting with tears. Kurama lets out a soft huff, and when she closes her eyes, she can see him before her, looking at her with open judgement.

“What did you believe would happen, Nana? I thought you would know better by now. This world has no care for you or your expectations. Let this stoke your resolve, rather than cause you to doubt,” he tells her harshly, hot breath washing over her.

She can’t help but let out a bitter laugh as rage begins to well up above the grief. Of course. What did she assume? Because in the end, she is a means to an end to him. Nothing more. He had said after all that he would no longer be ‘human’. Her nails dig into the palm of her hands, and she recalls the conversation they had in the concrete room while the Uchiha were being slaughtered.

How harsh he had been. The way she had steeled herself and finally made her decision.

And just like that, the anger at Kurama fades. He is just as trapped as her. How tired he must be to see her stumble and stagger between decisions that could mean his freedom or continued captivity.

The silence lingers between them like ash, until Nana finally breaks it with a shuddering breath.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

And with that, she opens her eyes again, blinking at the bright light of the bathroom. The paper in her sleeve crinkles, and the sound seems to echo like a bell. Slowly, she dips her fingers in, carefully tugging the folded paper out. Her heart pounds quietly as she traces the creases with her eyes, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Black ink bleeds through the paper, and if she squints, she can recognise a few of the backwards characters. Ultimately however, she knows she can’t keep stalling.

Sucking in a breath, she gently unfolds the paper, and begins to read.

Nana,

With luck, Kanna was able to safely give you this letter. I hope that you’ll give what I have to say a chance. You must have so many questions, and I’ve tried to answer the main ones I think you’d ask here. First of all:

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nana. I should have fought harder for you to stay. It wouldn’t have done much, but... I guess we’ll never know. But most of all, I’m sorry that you’re reading this. Because it means that I’ve gotten caught and... well. You probably won’t ever see me again. I love you though. All of us do, so when things get tough, or it feels like you’re all alone, know that you’ve got us, thinking about you. Anyway, on to business.

I don’t know how much you know about the Konoha Liberation Group, but I doubt you’ve been told much. Shinobi... this whole system... it’s so corrupt. You’ve seen the kids that disappear, seen how civilians and orphans alike get forgotten and trodden on by the people meant to protect us. The KLG is all about the civilians. It’s about obtaining a fairer system of government, one where people like you and me aren’t thrown under the wagon to fight a war that doesn’t even matter.

After you were taken... I couldn’t take it. I joined them. And they showed me just how much the rot goes. How children have been sent off to fight battles that never should have arisen in the first place. And when I think about how you might be one of those kids... I can’t stand it. So we’re trying to change things. So far it’s just protests and handing out flyers, but we’ve been organising. We got intel from a former Kiri-nin who was a part of the rebellion over there, and he’s been giving us tips on how to fight back.

Of course, it isn’t easy. After all, if you’re reading this, then it went wrong. A raid must have caught us, or I slipped up and they took me in, or something else. But I wanted you to know about us. About the KLG. You have options.

Even if you decide to ignore this letter, or report it, that’s still an option I’m giving you. I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but that’s up to you. And that’s more than Konoha will ever give you. No matter what you choose: I love you. You’re my little sister, and I wish I could have done more to protect you.

Fight for the Justice you have been denied. Quench the Will of Fire that causes war to burn.

Stay safe,

Ryuu

“...Konoha has an illegal paramilitary protest group. Aimed at overthrowing the status quo.”

“...That is certainly a surprise.”

Nana doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her brother, Ryuu, caught up in a hidden revolution. A revolution she thought she’d have to start herself. How many other discontent people were there? How many more people could be swayed to the cause?

Despite the grief, something like hope blooms in her chest.

She isn’t alone.

Nana isn’t alone in this. She could get support, access to resources, could actually change things. An incredulous laugh bubbles up in her throat.

“Kurama, this... this changes everything.”

He hums, not quite convinced.

“Perhaps. But keep in mind: They are civilian based. And the Kiri-nin? That speaks of infiltration, Nana.”

She deflates, gnawing on her lip as she mulls over his words. An ex Kiri-nin appearing out of nowhere, who just so happens to want to help a group dedicated to making the lives of Konohan shinobi as difficult as possible? Kurama is right, it stinks of a psy-op.

Her fingers carefully tap the tiled floor, thoughts racing wildly in her mind. She has several options. She could contact the KLG and scope out their set up, potentially gifting herself to a Kiri invader. She could refuse to think on it further and ignore them, and wait until they become useful. Or she could just... keep an eye out. Until she’s strong enough to defend herself if it goes wrong.

Nana can’t help but groan. It seems like every decision she makes boils down to: Wait until she’s stronger. But what else can she do? She has to be cautious if she wants to survive, if she wants to bring real, tangible change. Kurama was right the other day, if she dies, then that’s it. Maybe it’s a self-centred and narrow understanding of the situation, but...

She so desperately wants to change this world. She can’t let herself give up, can’t resign herself to being another weapon of mass destruction for a place that will never change.

So. Training to be stronger it is then.

“I do believe it is the wisest choice. It may be hard to keep an eye out on the KLG at the same time... but knowing that you have potential allies is reassuring,” Kurama says, and he sounds approving. And despite the argument they had before, she can’t help but smile.

“It is. It really is. This... Kurama, we might be able to pull this off.”

She can’t stop the glee rising in her chest, and a light laugh spills from her lips. Kurama lets out a low chuckle, and for the first time, Nana... feels okay.

It’s going to be okay.

“I delivered the letter.”

The man hums at her words, absently watching the building she just came from. It’s good she left when she did. The Jinchuuriki’s ANBU guards will no doubt turn up at any moment.

“Good. You’ve done well, Kanna-chan,” he replies after a moment, and the orphan’s face twists up into a disgusted sneer.

“I didn’t do it for you-!” she says, but cuts herself off as he shifts to look at her.

“No? You certainly leapt at the chance when I offered you your reward. Do you no longer want the money and documents? I’m sure Konoha would love to have you for another few years. Not only that, but I heard you telling her to burn it, which most certainly was not part of our deal.” His voice is low, a gentle whisper of a threat, and he can’t help but delight in the way she blanches, sucking in a shuddering breath.

“No. No, please, if they find out what I’ve done- Please. I can’t end up like Ryuu. I have to look after the kids. They’ll kill us,” Kanna pleads, terrified tears rising in her eyes, and he hums, carefully turning away from her. She’s right of course. Yamamoto Ryuuji did not just doom himself when he was caught. Not when it was possible that he spread those ideas to his fellow orphans. The Sandaime might split them up, but the real danger lies with Danzo.

The man predicts him to strike within the next few days. A sudden fire at night, catching all of them off guard and killing every last one of them. It would be a tragedy, but quickly forgotten.

He’s tired of tragedies. Perhaps it would be kinder to simply kill them all right now, but...

Nohara Kanna deserves a chance. For her.

“I would implicate myself if I did that,” he lies, because it would be easy to hide his involvement, but he doubts that would comfort the girl. “Here.”

He holds out a thick envelope for her to take, stuffed with money and enough fake passports for the remaining members of the orphanage. She reaches out to take it, but he pulls back just before her fingertips brush the paper.

“This is the extent of my help,” he warns, “And Kanna?”

She looks up.

Nohara or not, she still tried to betray him.

It is very easy to strike her, and he watches as the kunai slices her cheek to the bone. She lets out a startled scream, but he quickly muffles her, before searing the wound shut with a quick katon. The burn will be a reminder, and a threat to keep her mouth shut. She lets out a soft sob as he releases her, but she does not yell or shriek, and instead grabs the envelope when he tosses it to her.

She does not stay for a second longer, and he can’t blame her. Turning back to look at Uzumaki Nana’s building, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

It took a while, but he’s finally set the pieces in motion. If things go to plan, then Uzumaki Nana will do most of the work for him.

Now, all Uchiha Obito has to do is wait and watch Konoha implode.

END OF ARC ONE

Chapter Text

The years go by. Nana turns eight quietly, receiving another gift basket of various tools and gear with an unsigned note awkwardly proclaiming pride in her abilities. Tucked beneath the weapons however, is a soft stuffed dog, hastily thrown in as though her secret benefactor didn’t know if they should include it or not. But somehow, its addition makes the icy fear in her veins settle slightly. There’s something kind about adding a gift meant for children, even if it had been an afterthought. Were it not for the jagged, uncertain strokes of the characters, she would suspect that Gai is behind the gifts. So the identity of her secret benefactor remains unknown, just another mystery pushed to the back of her mind.

She continues to train, continues to plan with Kurama, and finds herself settling into herself a bit more. She never approaches Sasuke, despite how much she wants to reach out and help this clearly traumatised child. But she doesn’t. She sticks to herself, unwilling to get too close to the children that will help shape the future she hopes to change. Despite her aloofness, Nara Shikamaru sometimes tries to include her. It’s never with any enthusiasm, and she wonders if his parents told him to talk to her. Still, she rarely accepts his invitations, only acquiescing when she feels particularly desperate for contact.

She never sees Kanna or the orphans again, and learns a few months after her eighth birthday that the orphanage was completely destroyed by a fire. The people tut in faux sympathy, but it slips from their minds soon enough.

It never leaves hers.

It’s the one time she’s truly tempted to give into Kurama’s cajoling and let him take over. She rages and screams in the comfort of her own bathroom, chakra burning red-hot in her stomach and just begging to be released. Why not, after all? She has lost everything. In the end, she draws back from total destruction by forcibly reminding herself of the plan, of the lengths her orphans went through. If Kanna died because she gave her Ryuu’s letter, if the other orphans were killed for their association to her, then self-destructing would simply be spitting on their graves. So she pulls herself back from the brink, much to Kurama’s disappointment.

The event is a reminder that she truly is alone, and that given the opportunity, Kurama would not hesitate to use her rage as his own. It makes her shudder, but there’s nothing she can do about it. He’s still the only one she can fully trust, the only one who knows, and so, she forgives him, again and again. Oh, she screams at him, yells and hurls obscenities for his pushing and prodding, and he surprisingly accepts her fury until it bores him.

When asked, he explains that her anger towards him is understandable, that he would be furious if someone tried to do the same to him. But when she asks why he did it, he just laughs.

“If you were handed an opportunity to escape, would you not take it, regardless of who you betrayed?”

Nana wants to protest, but at the same time, there are very few people left whom she would mind betraying. After all, no matter whether she intends to or not, she will be forced to betray Konoha at some point. Ultimately, she says nothing to his prodding questions, even as his amusement shakes within her bones. Both of them agree to move on, but they both know she will never forget it.

Time continues, and her hatred for Konoha grows, cultivating into something poisonous and bitter. She doubts it’s healthy, but it’s the only thing that keeps her going. That, and Gai and Neji.

Gai continues to be a presence in her life, but his visits and training become less frequent as she grows older. The Massacre had caused a massive vacuum in the Shinobi forces, and she doesn’t doubt that he’s caught up doing a significant amount of work to help fill the gaps. It’s just another reminder of how stupid it was to kill off all the Uchiha; Konoha has quite literally shot itself in the foot with regards to power. The introduction of wartime measures for the first three months helped stop any internal issues, but the Massacre eventually reaches the ears of the other Hidden Villages. There have been murmurs of territory grabs and border skirmishes, but nothing drastic enough to force the hand of war.

Danzo must be disappointed, she thinks wryly to herself, even as her disgust with the villages grows. Maybe she’s a fool, but the system of shinobi is just... unsustainable. She can’t understand the point behind it all, can’t wrap her head around how Hidden Villages make money during ‘peace’ time. Surely there aren’t that many assassination and guarding contracts that need to be fulfilled? And if there are, then where are they coming from? Why? What issues linger in the world beyond the shinobi?

She has so many questions, and yet she knows that until she leaves Konoha, she will not know.

The years continue to go by, and she grows older and older. The baskets appear on her birthdays like clockwork, each containing a wide variety of useful things; coupons for shinobi clothes to accommodate her growing body, a cookbook of various nutritious but easy to make meals, a whetstone with hasty instructions on how to use it written on a torn piece of paper. But sometimes, they have smaller, less shinobi-orientated gifts; shinobi nail polish, a pouch of hard candy, small books written for children. Whoever the person giving her these baskets is, they’re trying to treat her somewhat like a child, and it both infuriates and warms her. On one hand, she can’t help but wonder how her benefactor is unable to see the jagged contrast between soft, childish toys and weapons meant to kill. How can they not see how wrong it is?

But on the other... her young mind wants to sob with delight at the indulgent trinkets, because it’s an act of kindness and acknowledgement that she only receives from Gai. And he won’t be around her much longer. She’s always known that Gai would inevitably leave her. He had never hidden his desire to become a jounin sensei, and as he comes by less and less, she knows that the time between them has run out.

The week after Nana turns eleven, Gai sits her down, and gently explains that after the winter, he will no longer be able to train her. After years and years, he has finally been accepted to teach the newest generation of genin. He tries to reassure her that he will always be there if she needs him, that it doesn’t mean she’ll never see him again, and she nods wanly at him, a smile on her face.

She had known this would happen. She had known.

And yet it still feels like she’s being torn away from her family again. She congratulates him sweetly, pats his hand and makes excited jokes, all the while her heart screams and screams and screams, because Nana knows that this will be the last time she will truly be close to Gai, despite his assurances.

Genin training is intensive, and Konoha discourages any outside interference the first few months, with even simple sparring between genin teams being frowned upon. A genin cell is not viewed as fully formed until they complete their first C-mission, but beyond that, having a jounin sensei train someone other than their team is viewed as a shinobi faux-pas, implying that the sensei holds little to no regard or belief in their own team. Similarly, if a genin seeks out training from a different jounin, unless a prior agreement of training or apprenticeship has been established, then it will be viewed as disrespectful towards the actual jounin teacher’s abilities. It’s a different story during wartime, but in peace, it is expected that the jounin will place their full attention on training the next generation of shinobi.

Ultimately, Gai will never be her sensei again. Whatever bond they have built up will eventually be worn down by the passage of time, before it finally snaps when she defects. Perhaps then it’s better that she won’t be his student anymore, even though it makes her heart ache. With luck, the distance will ease the pain her betrayal will bring. So she locks the agony and grief away, replaces it with joy and childish sadness instead, and gives her best smile to Gai. He looks at her with something unreadable in his eyes, and for a moment, she is sure he sees the truth.

But he says nothing. And when their last day comes, he just folds her into a hug while blubbering about her maturity. With the amount of tears he sheds, well, who can tell if some of them are hers. She will always love Gai as a parental figure, even after she leaves Konoha and goes against everything she stands for. She just hopes he won’t hate her too much for it.

Winter turns into spring, and she watches Neji graduate. In the evenings, he complains to her about her new team and their crazy teacher, and she just smiles.

Neji has become a close friend, even though neither of them fully trusts the other. They never interact outside of their designated sparring time, both too cautious and paranoid to risk it. He seems to be more open to listening to her ideas and thoughts, and sometimes adds to them with various insightful and helpful comments about the world around them. Nana is fairly certain he doesn’t think she’s serious, not completely, but some part of him must want to hope regardless, and it’s enough to work with.

Her time in the Academy begins to tick down, and she is both relieved and terrified. On one hand, the Academy has been frustrating and isolating in equal measure, but on the other hand... the events of canon have begun to creep closer and closer. She is unconcerned about changing the plot later on, but until she is strong enough to survive, being able to predict what will happen in the future will keep her safe.

So she grits her teeth and deals with the exclusion of the students and the neglect of the teachers. She forces her anger down whenever Shino purposefully gets up and sits somewhere else when she is near. She doesn’t hiss back insults when Kiba snarls at her with barely hidden hostility. She ignores the way Ino narrows her eyes at her and refuses to stay whenever Shikamaru is able to convince her to hang out. She bites her tongue when Iruka looks at her with absolute apathy on good days and suspicious disdain on bad days. She pretends not to notice the way Mizuki ‘corrects’ her form in dangerous ways, leaving her wide open for deadly attacks.

She bears it all, even as the weight of it threatens to crush her.

Nana turns twelve in silence, with only Kurama and the gift basket to keep her company. She trains until her hands ache and blister, practices the Uzumaki taijustu style until her muscles scream at her to stop, traps her thoughts deep inside until all she can do is sit in the shower and stare blankly at the wall.

Time continues.

Until finally, graduation arrives.

Let it be known that Kakashi is the first to say he has shit luck. If he didn’t, then he would not currently be sitting in a seedy inn close to Ame, forced to scout for a missing informant the week his sensei’s daughter would graduate as a genin. The Sandaime had been apologetic at the overlap, but firm that Kakashi had to go.

Possible defection, he had told him, it won’t take long.

Unfortunately for him, the informant apparently decided to weasel away in a small town near Ame, and the constant rain had quickly erased most scent marks. Letting out a soft grumble, Kakashi swirls the mug of cheap booze disdainfully, even as his eyes remain focused on the civilians around him. Finally, after what appears to be hours, he catches the face of a nervous man by the counter, whispering something to the bartender. With a tilt of the bartender’s head, the man seems to sag in relief, before scurrying back outside.

A vicious grin curls beneath Kakashi’s mask, and he tosses a handful of coins on the table, before smoothly following the informant. Despite the man’s pitiful attempts to scout the area and check for any tails, Kakashi remains unseen, keen eyes watching him hurry out of the town.

Perfect.

He continued to tail the man, waiting until they were far away enough from the town to finally make a move.

“Takahisa Hiro,” Kakashi calls out, watching the rogue informant flinch violently.

“Ah- ah, Shinobi-san, I, ah-,” stumbles from his mouth, before blanching at the sight of his headband.

“You did not hand in your last report.”

The informant shudders, hands wringing as he nervously looks around.

“There was, there was an issue with the- uh- conveyance of the missive,” he tries to explain weakly.

The lie lingers obviously between them, and it is all the evidence he needs. Faster than the informant can see, he darts forward, kunai ready to quickly slash open the traitor’s throat and finally be done with this mission.

But of course, things are never easy. Before the kunai cab even graze the man’s throat, paper immediately blossoms between them, creating a sharp barrier despite their seemingly fragile nature. He leaps backwards, eyes narrowed at the shinobi interference.

A kunoichi stands before him, arms loose and stance confident, even with the informant tucked behind her.

“Apologies,” she says mildly, “but we still require Takahisa-san.”

Neither of them move.

Kakashi lets out a small sigh, cursing Sarutobi for giving him this mission in the first place. The woman continues to regard him without a hint of worry or hesitation. Every muscle in her body is poised and ready to strike. Kakashi knows he is a good shinobi. One of the best even. But he prides himself on being observant, and every instinct screams that the kunoichi is not a person to be trifled with.

And yet... he cannot return to Konoha with an unfinished mission, not with such information at stake.

“Perhaps we could come to an agreement,” he offers finally, and the woman tilts her head.

“Oh?”

“Takahisa has betrayed Konoha without hesitation,” he points out, “I imagine he’ll be willing and eager to do the same to you.”

 “Of course. We have already planned for that.”

It isn’t uncommon for informants to give their information and then immediately be killed. Takahisa will end up dead, that much is certain, but Kakashi would prefer it to happen before he reveals vital information to an enemy group.

“Look, whatever information he does have, it’s going to be useless and outdated. I’m just here to tie up loose ends,” he explains lightly, even as his stomach turns bitterly.

It’s ultimately a senseless death. The information Takahisa has isn’t even that important, but Sarutobi had pressed the need for consequences and making a statement. At his words, the kunoichi’s eyes seem to sharpen, though she continues to remain still.

“You don’t sound happy about it,” she says softly.

Kakashi does not flinch, but he cannot stop the wariness from shooting through his veins. The woman takes a step forward, and he wonders if he should start running. A flash of white zips across the clearing and he flips backwards to dodge, but whatever flew past him was not aimed for him. Instead, the paper slices across Takahisa’s throat, disappearing before even a drop of blood can stain it.

As he begins to gurgle and choke on his own blood, Kakashi decides to never get a paper cut again.

“I thought you needed him,” he says warily, but the woman doesn’t even flinch.

“Plans change,” she murmurs, eyes still focused intently on him. “I’d much rather listen to what you have to say, Hatake Kakashi.”

“Ah, if you’re propositioning me, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. Though you have me at an impasse. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

His voice is light, but everything about the situation makes his skin crawl. All he wants to do is take Takahisa’s head and return to Konoha. But the woman just blinks at his words, no sign of embarrassment or uncertainty.

“You took this mission, yet you held disdain for it.”

“My feelings on the mission are irrelevant,” he bites out. She takes another step forward, and Kakashi lets his fingers drift down to his tanto, unwilling to show her how rattled he is.

“Are they? How many orders have you been forced to obey, even as your heart screams at the injustice at it all?”

“Enough,” he growls out. She doesn’t listen of course, and he pulls his tanto out of his holster as she takes another step. Finally, they stand face to face, but even as every instinct screams at him to attack, something else tells him to wait. To listen to what she has to say.

It’s information gathering, he tells himself, for Konoha.

Her eyes continue to burn into him, the orange almost searing their way into his mind, and for a moment, he wonders if she is seeking out the lies he has told himself. And then, with a voice as soft as silk, she speaks again.

“Perhaps the real traitor is not Takahisa, but Konoha.”

He lunges, tanto swiping through her body, but the sound it makes as it connects is not one of metal meeting flesh. Instead, the wound he would have created flutters into paper, sheaves beginning to flake off of her in a cascade of white.

“Perhaps I pressed too soon,” she murmurs as the paper slowly swallows her. “But should you change your mind, Hatake-san, then we would be very interested in your support.”

And before he can strike again, she disappears into a hurricane of paper, thousands of sheets swirling into the sky and vanishing.

Kakashi cannot stop the choking breath stuck in his chest, trying to clamp down on the tide of emotions beginning to swell within him. Instead, he stumbles over to Takahisa’s corpse, hoping to seal him away, return to Konoha, and forget about what just happened.

But even as he begins his journey back to the village, he cannot shake the burning orange eyes from his mind.

(Even as he burns the note tucked inside his pocket, the words remain branded in his memory.)

Chapter Text

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.

— Article 12 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

Umino Iruka stares down at his list, unable to wipe away his frown. So far the genin tests have been going well, with only a minor percentage of failures. He can’t help but feel pride in his students for having done so well these past years, certain of their continued success beyond the Academy. And yet...

Looking down at the name of the next practical exam candidate, he wonders what the hell he should do. By all rights, Uzumaki Nana is an average student. She passes her exams, but doesn’t excel. She loses and wins when the students spar in equal measure. She can do the henge and kawarimi, but struggles with bunshin. Despite being ostracised in class, she seems polite and thoughtful, taking on his criticism with grace.

Average.

But everything about her sets him on edge. He knows that she isn’t the Kyuubi, knows that she isn’t responsible for the deaths of his parents, but at the same time... there’s something unsettling about her. She rarely speaks or interacts with her peers, instead seeming to scare them away simply by existing. Aburame Shino bluntly refused to work with her in a group project, and while he doesn’t know why, it makes him uncomfortable.

He feels bad for his hesitation and uncertainty, especially after the Hokage explained her struggles with other people, but... he can’t help it. She’s polite, but never quite genuine, she’s thoughtful, but never tells you what she’s thinking, she’s average, and yet there’s a glint of something far more in her eyes every so often.

He shudders.

“Everything alright, Iruka?” a friendly voice calls, and he looks up to see the grinning face of Mizuki. He gives his best friend a wobbly smile.

“Yeah, yeah, just taking a breather,” he explains. Mizuki nods and wanders closer, peering over his shoulder at the list.

“Who’s next?”

Iruka clears his throat.

“Uzumaki-chan.”

“...Ah. Do you want me to take over?”

Mizuki’s always been far more open to Uzumaki, often volunteering to go help her with her katas, and from what he’s seen, she seems to take to it. It’s a relief that she has at least one teacher to support her, though the guilt continues to roil in his stomach. It’s tempting to agree, but the Hokage is already disappointed enough by his reluctance to talk to her.

“I’ve got it. But thanks,” he says sincerely, and his friend grins.

“Of course! Should I go call her in then?”

Iruka nods, and Mizuki gives him a thumbs up before leaving. Once he’s alone, Iruka takes in a deep breath and steadies himself. Regardless of his issues with her, he will be as fair as possible. She’s an average student, and would probably excel as a shinobi. A knock on the door announces that it’s time. Steeling himself, he sits up straight, and waits for Uzumaki to arrive.

When the knock on his door finally comes, he swallows, but schools his features into neutrality.

“Come in!” he finally calls out, watching the girl shuffle in. She looks the same as always, a hesitant smile on her face, and she wanders over to the front of the desk. He tries to give her an encouraging smile.

“Right then, so far you’ve managed to pass all your written exams, so all that’s left is the practical,” he explains. “I just need to see you perform henge, kawarimi and bunshin.”

Her face pales at the last requirement, but all she does is nod.

“When you’re ready.”

Uzumaki takes in a deep breath, and he watches her carefully form the hand seals needed for henge, noting that although the hand formations are impeccable, she needs to speed it up a bit more. Still, with a poof of smoke, she appears before him as an identical copy of Iruka himself. He swallows nervously, standing up to inspect her.

“The scar on the nose is a bit too long, but otherwise it looks good,” he tells her, trying to keep the unease out of his voice.

She beams up at him at his words, and the guilty feeling returns.

“Is this better?” she asks, and with another quick seal, the scar has shortened to a better length. He nods, and she releases the technique, a smile on her face.

“That’s henge down. For kawarimi, can you replace yourself with the training log at the back of the room?”

This time, her hand seals seem to speed up slightly, though she sacrifices form for speed. But ultimately, she vanishes and reappears at the back of the classroom, the training log landing in her previous spot with a soft thunk.

“Excellent, well done. Could you replace yourself with the log again?” he requests, and she nods quickly, disappearing yet again with a puff of smoke. He quickly notes down a pass for henge and kawarimi, before turning to her with a slight grimace.

“Now, I know you’ve had issues with bunshin before, Uzumaki-chan, but we need to see you do it in order for you to pass.”

“I understand,” she says softly, face screwed up nervously. With hesitation clear in her hand seals, she slowly works her way through each one, until finally, smoke appears besides her.

The clone is... well. It’s a clone. It’s slightly pale and seems as though it would dispel if someone just breaths on it too hard, but...

(A vicious part of him asks him if he really wants Uzumaki in his class for another year. She can handle herself out there, and it’s just the clone technique after all. Why deal with her for another year when he can get her out of his class now?)

Guilt churns inside his stomach as he inspects the clone, his eyes flicking from the pale imitation back to the look of worry and concentration on Uzumaki’s face.

It isn’t a good clone. It’s barely even average.

And yet, with shame curling inside his chest, he stamps ‘pass’ on her papers.

“Congratulations, Uzumaki-chan,” he says with a hoarse voice. “You’ve passed. I am sure you will do Konoha proud. Please, take a headband.”

Iruka can’t look her in the eyes as she grins up at him, joy clear on her face.

“Thank you so much, Iruka-sensei! You’ve been a wonderful teacher!”

Her words stab into him, and while he knows that she probably has no idea, there’s something accusatory in her tone, something angry and hurt, and he has to force himself not to flinch.

“It’s been a pleasure to have you in my class,” he lies. “Come back to class tomorrow for your team assignment. Goodbye, Uzumaki-chan, and good luck.”

She plucks out the standard blue headband, her grin still plastered on her face, before she leaves with a cheerful wave. And as she disappears, all he can do is wonder how he’s let himself become twisted enough to feel nothing but relief at her departure.

Nana passes her exams on a sunny April day, under the watchful and ever hesitant eyes of Iruka. It’s both a surprise and relief. She was certain he would fail her out of spite because of her imperfect clone, but instead, he just... passed her.

She is officially a genin. And all she feels is icy apathy, uneasiness swirling in her stomach like a storm. Despite her plan to pass no matter what, a part of her had been certain that canon would kick in instead. And yet, Mizuki hasn’t approached her, and she’s passed without having to steal the Scroll of Seals. She should be happy, she thinks, after all, she never wanted to listen to Mizuki. While having shadow clones this early on would be helpful, she isn’t willing to risk her current status by sneaking into the Hokage Tower and stealing a priceless and dangerous scroll. She isn’t even sure if there’s anything else of importance of the scroll.

And yet, she still feels... unsettled. She can’t help but wonder what it means for everything else. Still, she shakes her head and forces herself to relax once she leaves the Academy. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Nana’s made it this far, and that’s an accomplishment.

Kurama murmurs a soft congratulations to her, and despite their often turbulent partnership, she’s happy to have pleased him. As a reward, she decides to have a little picnic outside, away from all the prying eyes and judgemental whispers, instead focusing on herself. She deserves to feel happy, even just for a day. Yes, she’s now officially a genin who will have to kill, but... well. As the time has gone by, she’s forced herself to accept that. She will do what she can to minimise any fatalities, but at the end of the day, she wants to survive.

She wants to live.

“So,” she mutters to herself, settling into a shady spot in an unused training ground. “We’ve reached the starting point.”

“Indeed,” Kurama hums at her, and she can imagine him stretching slightly before curling up into a comfortable position, eyes half-closed as he listened to her thoughts. “Are you prepared?”

She shrugs, carefully picking at the rice in her bento. She had bought it on a whim from her local konbini, and while it was edible enough, the sourness of the umeboshi overpowered everything else.

“I mean, as much as I can be. The main issue is keeping up with specific events, since we don’t know the dates they occurred,” she explains in her mind as she shoves a clump of rice into her mouth. The taste is pungent, but she forces herself to swallow it.

“Everything in canon was just... pure luck.”

“Ah, but don’t you have... what did you call it? Plot armour?”

Nana grimaces.

“I said that as a joke. At this point, I can’t really be sure of anything.”

It’s unfortunately the truth. If she does have plot armour keeping her safe, then she doubts she’ll ever really know. Unless someone hurls a kunai at her point blank, then there really is no testing it. All she can actually do is hope that things stay somewhat the same.

“Very well. You said you would approach your team neutrally. Is that truly viable?” Kurama asks, his voice a low rumble in her mind, and she sighs.

Straight to the hard hitting questions of course, Nana thinks wryly. Unable to stomach another bite, she finally puts down her bento, and instead leans against a tree, letting her fingers drift down to fiddle with the grass.

“It depends. If I get Kakashi, then he’ll be lacklustre enough that I can probably get away with being distant. At least after the bell test.”

“And if you don’t get Kakashi?”

Nana can’t stop the bitter bark of laughter from escaping her chest.

“Well, then I’m fucked. Or at the very least, at a complete disadvantage. Because that means absolutely everything about the future has to be thrown out. And I mean everything.” Her voice trembles as she speaks, and she can’t stop her fingers from twisting into the ground, digging hard enough to reach the cool earth below.

“Calm yourself. We will plan for that if it happens.”

Hesitantly, she nods, and forces herself to expel the nervous breath trapped inside her.

“Right,” she mumbles, “okay.”

He doesn’t speak again, and she’s thankful for it. The rest of her thoughts have vanished in the face of her anxiety, and besides, she would much rather focus on enjoying the rest of her evening. She lets herself hum songs from her old world, giving Kurama the rough translations when she can feel his curiosity. His blatant confusion is enough to make her chuckle, finally chasing away the last dregs of uncertainty.

After exhausting her memory of songs, she forces herself to stand up.

“I think I’m going to jog around before it gets dark,” she announces, and Kurama gives an uninterested grunt of acknowledgement. A grin blooms on her face at the sound of his reluctance, and she begins to run, the energy that always seems to buzz within her smoothing into determination.

As the sun begins to set, the golden glow bathes the city around her in a gorgeous orange light, and for a moment, Nana finds the hatred in her heart settle into fondness. Konoha is a shithole, yes, and she can’t wait to leave, but it’s beautiful as well. She will never be able to love it the way everyone else seems to do, but she can appreciate their desire to protect it.

She just thinks they can do it without the use of a military dictatorship and child soldiers.

And just like that, the beauty of Konoha is gone, the warmth of the fading sun replaced with the icy heaviness that she can never quite shake from her bones. Her time at the Academy has helped her come to terms with the fact that the children around her will fight and kill- and perhaps, even be killed. It makes her sick to her stomach, but just like everything else, it’s yet another thing she has to bear.

All of a sudden, the orange glow of the city becomes almost sickly, while the shadows seem to grow in every corner and alleyway. Her stomach turns. How fitting, she thinks, that the moment she forces herself to look at the truth, the ugliness of the world rears its head. Nervous tension pools inside her chest, and she finds herself unable to stand another moment in the town. Instead, she turns, heading back towards the training grounds and into the embrace of the trees. Despite the darkness that has started to settle, the forests remain a comfort, the vivid greenery a soothing balm against the glare of the city.

Jogging through the Konohan woods has always been pleasant, and she’s surprised that it’s the same even as night begins to fall. Regardless, she shouldn’t linger for too long. Ten minutes in the forest and then I’ll head back, she tells herself. Kurama remains silent, but she can feel his own unease.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he hisses softly, “try not to linger.”

Nana grits her teeth. She doesn’t want to go back to her empty apartment, where she’ll crawl into the bathroom and disassociate for several hours until the clawing anxiety dies down. She doesn’t want to confront the encroaching reality of the future, doesn’t want to think about the role she’ll have to play soon.

She just-

She just wants to run.

She just wants to live.

A ball of fury and grief catches in her throat, and she stumbles suddenly, unable to keep up her pace. As she sprawls across the ground, her stomach cramps in pain, and she realises that she’s gone far deeper into the forest than she wanted to.

“How... how fast was I running?” she asks hoarsely, the words seeming to get stuck in her dry mouth.

“You weren’t sprinting, but you certainly weren’t jogging either.”

Nana chokes out a laugh, and she slowly sits back up, watching as a scrape she received from the fall knits back together.

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

Sitting down, she can finally feel the chill of the night. The canopy of trees above her head blocks out the sky, but she’s fairly certain that night has fallen fully. She’s gripped by the sudden urge to climb; to grapple with the branches and leaves until she reaches the top. She wants to see the world she’s in beyond the city she’s been forced into, she wants to survey these unfamiliar lands and get to know them, she wants to see what life is like beyond the villages, beyond chakra and shinobi.

She sucks in a shuddering breath.

“Can they not see it?” she wonders softly. “Don’t they ever want to see what there is to life outside of the way of the ninja?”

“Humans have always stuck to that which is comfortable,” Kurama replies back lowly.

For a moment, neither of them speak, and Nana lets her gaze wander to the trees surrounding her.

“It terrifies me,” she admits after a while.

“Everything terrifies you.”

She can’t swallow down her chuckle, even though she knows it’s not a joke. It’s simply the truth.

“Yes, it does. But the way everything works... I can’t understand it. It’s not sustainable. I can’t even fathom how no-one has ever wondered if there’s something more than fighting. And that’s...”

She trails off, but Kurama understands.

“Then you’ll just have to show them that there’s something more than being a shinobi. Something better,” he tells her, and the words hit her like a punch to the gut.

He has always held the view that she would fail. That her efforts would be in vain. His agreement to help her was not the same as belief in her abilities.

And yet, he has just offered her a piece of hope.

Of trust.

She swallows down the sob that tries to claw its way up her throat, and instead reaches up to clutch her hand by her heart.

“I’ll try,” she chokes out. “Even if I-“

Goosebumps rise across her flesh, and without even realising it, she’s dodging backwards, just in time for a kunai to lodge itself in the spot where she was just sitting. For a moment, all she can do is stare in disbelief and confusion.

And then she realises what’s just happened.

Someone is trying to kill her.

“Run,” Kurama snarls, and she obeys, hurling herself off the ground just as another kunai comes flying down.

Laughter follows after her, cruel and delighted, but she doesn’t dare glance back.

Fuck, she swears, fuck.

Something smacks into her calf, the force of it causing her to trip and collide with the floor. Desperately, she tries to stand back up, only for her leg to scream in pain the moment she puts weight on it.

“Kurama,” she thinks desperately, staring at the kunai lodged into her muscle.

“On it. Pull it out, and run.”

Without hesitation, she latches onto the weapon and pulls it out with a heavy tug, choking down a scream. Almost immediately the wound begins to heal, and she scrambles back up, ready to run-

“Now, now, Nana-chan, running away from your teacher is very rude,” someone calls out light-heartedly, and her stomach drops.

Mizuki smiles down at her, lips twisted in dark glee.

“You know, you and Iruka really messed up my plans with that little stunt. I truly thought he’d have more spine and actually fail you. But no, apparently the thought of having you in his classroom for one more second was enough to pass you.”

That explains... a lot, in hindsight. Oh, it’s absolutely infuriating and more than a little hurtful, but at the very least she got to dodge stealing the scroll. Unfortunately for her however, it seems like the end result is the same.

Swallowing, she stands up, and Mizuki lets her, watching her movements with apathy. His eyes flick down to her leg, and a disgusted sneer crawls onto his face.

“You don’t even try to hide it, do you?” he spits out, and before she can react, he steps forward, roughly grabbing her face. She tries to squirm away, but his fingers dig painfully into her neck until she stops.

“Look at you. Flaunting what a monster you are, while pretending to be nothing more than a harmless little girl.”

His grip tightens, and tears spring to her eyes at the force of it, her jaw beginning to creak dangerously. Unless she does something, then she’s fairly certain Mizuki will break her jaw.

The kunai in her hand burns.

“Nana.”

Kurama’s voice is calm, and she knows what he wants her to do.

What she has to do.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she slams the kunai into Mizuki’s stomach. The grip around her face loosens and she darts backwards, ready to run, but a dark chuckle freezes her in place.

“Finally showing your true colours, hm?”

The kunai doesn’t even seem to faze him, and frantic panic begins to rise within her.

All of a sudden, she understands the sheer power difference between ninja and regular humans.

“Focus,” Kurama reminds her, and she chokes down a sob, trembling hands reaching down to grab another kunai.

How the fuck is she meant to survive this?

Without warning, Mizuki launches himself at her, a tanto coming close to slicing her head off. His deranged grin gleams in the dark as she flips out of the way.

She has to end this quickly, because despite the years she’s spent training, she is nowhere near the level of a chunin.

“It is kill or be killed, Nana,” Kurama whispers.

She hates him. She hates this world, she hates Konoha, she hates Mizuki for making her do this.

And without giving herself time to hesitate, she replaces the scroll with herself, latching onto Mizuki’s back.

With tears dripping down her cheeks, Nana drives her kunai into his throat and feels the blood drip onto her hands.

It’s a quick death.

She supposes she should be thankful for that.

Mizuki collapses to the ground with a soft gurgle, and the dirt eagerly laps up the blood that pours from his throat. Nana scuttles away from his body as quickly as possible, static rushing through her ears as her sticky hands grip her hair, staining the blond strands red.

She is twelve, and she has just killed a person.

She is twelve, and she knows that she will have to do it again.

Turning her head towards the sky, Nana screams, fury and hatred and grief piercing the trees.

“You did what had to be done,” Kurama tells her softly, and she wants to grab him by the fur and tell him to shut up. She is sick of doing what has to be done. She is sick of having to grin and bear it. She is sick of knowing that Mizuki will just be one body in a line of many.

But none of that fucking matters.

Because this world doesn’t care if she’s exhausted and anxious, it doesn’t care that she is twelve and has just murdered someone who would have killed her without remorse, it doesn’t give a shit about her. So with hands stained red, she drags herself up and grabs the Scroll of Sealing.

If she’s going to have to do these things, then she’s going to play by the same unfair rules.

She doesn’t care about the bloody fingerprints she leaves behind, instead forcing her gaze onto the various forbidden techniques hidden within. She finds the Multiple Shadow Clone Technique and immediately notes in down in her mind. Nothing else catches her eye until she reaches the end.

Then, and only then, does she allow herself to falter. Kurama sucks in a deep breath, and she swallows nervously, her jaw aching.

“Is that...?” she says breathlessly, staring at the diagram printed clearly before her.

“Yes,” he replies, voice trembling with excitement. “It is.”

The seal used to contain Kurama stares back at her.

Uzumaki Nana is found barely ten minutes later, hands covered in blood as she clutches the Scroll of Sealing to her chest. The body of the traitor Mizuki lies only a handful of meters away, and it’s easy to deduce what happened.

Hiruzen can only feel rage.

He had done his best to grant Nana a childhood, and while he knows that it was not enough, would never be enough, he had wanted her to be a child. She will not be Danzo’s weapon, not while Hiruzen still lives.

But he can’t protect her from everything.

She stares at him with blank eyes when he calls her in, and were he a weaker man, then he would wrap her up into an embrace and weep. But he cannot. Because at the end of the day, he is still the Hokage, no matter how much he wishes he wasn’t anymore.

And yet, he knows that he will remain the Hokage until he dies, or Danzo perishes. His old friend has wormed his way into the heart of Konoha, infecting it with senseless violence and a greed for power. He cannot help but curse Danzo for his paranoia and recklessness, for his willingness to turn to a blade before diplomacy. Hiruzen can no longer untangle the threads Danzo has woven into Konoha.

Not anymore.

Hiruzen is old. Too old to run a village this size, too old to be forced to deal with the schemes of people he once trusted, too old to have to look at the daughter of his former successor and see the violence she has been forced to commit.

He dismisses her gently, and immediately assigns an ANBU to watch over her, hoping that this way she can be kept safe. At least for tonight.

Kakashi will be livid once he knows, and the thought makes him chuckle humourlessly. At the very least, they will have each other.

“Bear,” he murmurs into his office, and his personal guard immediately appears, head bowed and ready to receive orders. “Seal off my office, would you?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, the younger man disappears, and he can feel the barrier chakra wash over him.

And then he is alone, with nothing but his regrets to keep him company. The weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a heavy reminder of the sacrifices he has to make, and the exhaustion threatens to pull him down. Hiruzen buries his head in his hands, and tries not to weep.

Chapter Text

Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each state.

— Article 13(1) of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Rights

The shower water is warm as it beats down on Nana’s back, sluicing off the smears of red that still linger on her hands and hair.

As she watches the pink water swirl down into the drain, all she can think about is the warm steel of the kunai in her hand, the hot spray of blood that splashed against her face and hands, the pitying eyes of the Hokage as he gently asked her what happened.

She swallows harshly, the taste of blood still dancing on the back of her tongue, and tries not to sob. No-one had blamed her for what she had done. It had been self-defence after all, and he had been a traitor. She had proven her loyalty to Konoha.

But the truth remains. She has killed a man.

She killed a man who wanted to kill her first, and all she can feel is disappointment and shame and exhaustion. She could have knocked him out with the hilt of her kunai, she could have strangled him with ninja wire until he lost consciousness; she could have done anything other than kill him.

And yet, it’s the first solution she thought of.

Kill or be killed, Kurama keeps on telling her. It’s how the world works after all.

Except, that isn’t true, is it? Not really. Because to change the world, she needs to go against the unspoken rules. She has to try and do better than the violence that is so ingrained into the minds of those around her.

But when push came to shove, she immediately turned to that same violence.

She killed someone, just because it was easier than doing something else.

A scream tries to tear its way through her throat, and she lifts her arm up and bites, teeth sinking into the meat of her flesh as she lets out a muffled keen.

It’s a mistake.

Blood spills onto her tongue, thick and heavy, and suddenly, she isn’t in the shower, but in the forest, watching a child-sized kunai swing down into the artery of a grown man. It sinks into his flesh like a knife into butter, and she twists, mutilating Mizuki’s throat. A low gurgling sound escapes his lips, before a torrent of red, red, red sprays from the jagged wound, and all she can feel is the warm spray of blood on her white-knuckled hands, on her tear-stained face, on her gritted teeth. It coats her tongue like oil, and she gags, blood-soaked fingers unable to keep a grip on the kunai meant for her tiny, childish fingers-

Nana collapses onto her knees and vomits, the taste of bile mixing with blood and water. The gurgling sound it makes as it’s sucked into the drain only sets her off again. Kurama yells at her from the back of her mind, but she can’t hear him, every sense focused on trying to expel the contents of her stomach.

She remains there until there’s nothing left, body trembling from shock and the now freezing cold water pounding onto her skin. It’s enough to force her to focus, and she reaches up to flick the shower off, though she misses several times before finally hitting it. The water slows into a thin dribble, before settling on a soft rhythmic drip. The chill left behind from her shower lingers on her skin, and she can’t stop herself from shuddering violently. But she can’t bring herself to leave the shower.

A part of her almost wishes she freezes to death.

For a few minutes, there’s only the sound of her leaky shower and her heavy breathing. And then, Kurama speaks.

“Get up.”

She does, legs shaking as she stumbles out of the shower and snags her towel, wrapping it around her like a blanket. Immediately, warmth floods back into her, and she swallows, the taste of bile and blood still lingering at the back of her throat. But the idea of vomiting again makes her stomach clench in pain. Instead, she forces herself to slowly dry up, before tugging on her pyjamas and stumbling out of the bathroom and into her room.

She collapses onto her bed in a heap, unable to stop her limbs from curling up in an attempt to shield her from the rest of the world. Her mind feels hollowed out, and her body even more so, a slow numbness spreading into her very bones.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

Nana lets out a bark of bitter laughter, the sound wavering between a giggle and a sob.

“Kurama,” she breathes out, “I could have done anything else.”

“You can’t incapacitate every enemy peacefully, Nana,” he growls back, and she tries not to laugh again. “You don’t have that option yet.”

“Should I tell myself that when the dead bodies I leave behind outweigh the ones I leave living?”

Because at what point do her promises become excuses? At what point does she decide that the blood on her hands is justifiable as long as she achieves her goal? When will she decide to inch the line she continues to insist she’ll abide by further and further away from her morals, from Elise?

Nana is so goddamn tired. There is no ‘good’ solution. No easy way out. She isn’t in the court room, she can’t argue with someone to spare her life. She can’t even argue with herself anymore, not without shattering herself even further.

She isn’t Elise. She’s just Nana.

And tonight, she has killed a human being.

“You can’t redeem everybody.” Kurama’s voice is soft, and for once, there is no undertone of mocking. “You did what you had to today, and you should be proud. Perhaps you can show mercy to those who view your death as merely a job, but Mizuki? He would have taken great pleasure in making you suffer, and he is not the only one like that in this world.”

She can’t stop the broken laugh that bubbles out of her blood stained throat, because even now, even as close as she is to Kurama, he cannot understand. He never will.

“All death does is allow someone to escape from the consequences of their actions. And that isn’t fair to the victims,” is all she can bring herself to say, and she burrows deeper beneath her blankets, snagging the soft stuffed dog her benefactor had gifted her. But before she can let herself drift off, Kurama speaks up.

“You are the victim here, Nana. Your expectations are not fair on you, either.”

“And yet they’re all I have.”

Kurama does not answer her, and finally, she tumbles into sleep. There is no respite to be found.

Her dreams are a kaleidoscope of burst flesh and gleaming metal, seeping out of a broken drain with a soft, but constant gurgle. At one point, she stands before Elise, eyes staring into Nana’s own even as she approaches the woman she once was with a child-sized kunai.

“Do you even feel remorse?” the older woman asks, voice as cold as the steel gripped in Nana’s hand. “Or do you only feel pity for yourself, and the choice you claim you were forced to take?”

Nana only responds by pressing the kunai into the woman’s own fist, covering the larger hand with her own smaller one, before she slowly guides it to the throat of Mizuki.

“Look at what you’re making me do,” Elise whispers. “Look at what your selfishness has made me into.”

Nana’s hand jerks. A gavel bangs as blood splatters against the podium.

And she wakes up.

Her sheets are soaked with sweat and her heart is pounding like a drum, but beneath the lingering fear and despair that the dream left her, she feels so damn exhausted. What should she have done? He was going to kill her.  

She is trying so desperately hard to find the right outcome, to make the right decision, to balance on that tightrope between justice and murder, but nothing she does satisfies her guilt or her mind. There is no justification valid enough, no argument sound enough, because at the end of the day, she will look at herself and only see what she did wrong.

Nana feels guilty enough without this shadow looming over her, staring down her every move and tutting at the choices she makes. And yet, out of everyone, does Elise not hold the right to judge her? To look at her and find her wanting?

She swallows, eyes tracing the contours of her room until they land on her alarm clock. 9:04 in the morning. She has to be at the Academy at 10am for team assignments.

She drags herself out of bed, using the soft tick of her clock as white noise to fill up her mind and flush out the remnants of her nightmare to the back of her mind. With stiff limbs, she does her morning stretches, ignoring the linger ache of her leg from where Mizuki’s kunai-

(bloody hands and a tiny kunai, tearing out his throat and feeling the warmth spray across her face, the endless gurgle of a man drowning in his own-)

Nana sucks in a shuddering breath, forcing the bile down. She doesn’t have the time to have a breakdown. Not when she needs to rush.

A voice in the back of her head tuts.

It isn’t Kurama.

She ignores it and focuses on getting ready, reaching out to grab yesterday’s clothes, but-

Her fingers brush against something crusty, and when she yanks her hand back, she spots the rust-coloured flakes coating her fingertips. The tangy smell of iron is overwhelming, and she drops the stained sweater Gai gave her like it’s burned her. Her stomach churns, the need to vomit lingering in the back of her throat, even as she swallows harshly.

Nana takes a step back, and then another, until she can carefully kick the stained clothes out of her way. She’ll... throw them out later. The flecks of dried blood on her skin itch, and she tries not to shiver. Instead, she makes a beeline for the bathroom, turning on the tap and scrubbing her hands.

Out, damned spot, the voice mocks, and Nana snarls, tears of frustration leaping to her eyes.

She can’t do this today. She has to be strong. She’s already had her breakdown.

None of her excuses work, leaving her feeling even more worn out and pathetic than before, but she just-

She just has to get up. Go to the Academy. Meet her team. Make it through the day. Simple things, easy things, oh so dangerous things for unlucky little girls like her, and Nana wants to scream and scream until her throat bleeds.

She hates this. She hates this, she hates this, she hates this-

And yet she has to do this. Her jaw latches down onto her tongue, piercing through the flesh and letting the taste of blood fill her mouth. For a moment, the images of last night flash through her mind, but the pain grounds her again.

“Enough,” she whispers hoarsely into the mirror, splashing her ragged face with icy water. “Enough.”

By the time she is finished in the bathroom, the clock reads 9:57, and she knows she will be late. Nana can’t bring herself to care. Murdering someone should definitely count as extenuating circumstances. So she ignores her alarm clock, turns to her wardrobe and pulls on a basic outfit, one more fit for off-duty work than active ninja work, but she can’t bring herself to care. She can’t wear her primary gear anymore. Not until she fixes it.

Not until she checks each sweater just to make sure that the blood hasn’t lingered, hasn’t sunk into her skin and branded her with her crimes.

She shoves on her simple sandals, grabs her school bag, and yanks open her front door.

There’s another basket. Nana stares at it, unsure if she should be wary or desperate for just one day of forced normalcy. So far none of her gifts have held explosives, but she continues to treat them delicately until she opens them up and knows for sure. She looks at the clock.

10:13.

She steps forward and prods the basket with her foot. As always, nothing happens, and she gives it another moment before pulling it inside. Curious, she lifts up the blanket hiding the goodies from view. There’s a small sealed bag of Karintō, and she thinks she can see some baked Yatsuhashi packets as well. Beneath that is a fabric bag containing brand new mesh armour and bandages, all flexible and comfortable. But as Nana digs deeper, she finds that the mesh is not the only new attire she has received, and carefully picks out the clothes that have been so painstakingly placed inside the basket. There’s a short dark green pinafore dress, a matching black turtleneck, and spandex leggings, all extremely high quality and boasting a tag confirming them to be officially approved shinobi clothing. Inside the left pocket of the dress is a coupon that guarantees three free size exchanges for growing genin. The other pocket only has a note with three sentences written on it.

Well done on passing. Be proud.

And then in smaller handwriting, shaky and hesitant –

I’m sorry.

Nana crumples the paper in a fist, and laughs until she’s sobbing.

By the time she manages to get herself under control, it’s almost 11am, and unless Nana leaves now, she’ll probably miss team assignments. The first half of the morning was meant to be devoted to filling out forms and sitting for the identification card picture, while the second half was purely team announcements with a break for lunch before the newly assigned teachers pick their students up. The paperwork can be done later, but missing team assignments will most likely make things far more complicated for her in the future. How exactly, she isn’t sure, but she’s lived this life long enough to know that if there’s the slightest possibility of something going wrong, then it will absolutely happen to her.

Her skin itches from crying, and she allows herself ten seconds to splash water on her face so that Nana’s breakdown is at least a little bit less obvious. She looks vaguely less unstable afterwards, but only just. It’s the best she’s going to get with the time she has.

She doesn’t even wait to listen to the latch click shut before she’s tearing down the stairway, narrowly dodging the old lady who lives three doors down and her groceries. She yells something after her, but Nana is gone before the words leave her mouth. It only takes her ten minutes to get to the Academy, but she gives herself a few extra minutes to compose herself before actually entering the building.

She can hear Iruka’s voice from the classroom, even with the closed door, and she lets herself take a deep breath. Ignoring her trembling fingers, Nana gently slides the door open.

Everyone’s eyes seem to immediately snap to her, and she gives a sheepish smile, even as her heart pounds behind her ribcage.

“Sorry, sensei. My alarm didn’t go off.”

Iruka stares her down, eyes swimming with something unreadable, and she forces herself not to flinch. For a moment, she’s back in the forest. But instead of Mizuki, it is Iruka’s throat she tears open, his blood that covers her hands and swirls down her drain later on. But then he nods, wordlessly shooing her inside, and the image disappears like a bad dream.

She ducks her head in acknowledgement, and heads over to her preferred seat in the back. Iruka quickly picks up where he left off, explaining the duties and expectations that they will face as newly minted genin, occasionally snapping at a disruptive student. And then, he finally begins to talk about team formations.

Some of the students giggle excitedly, talking in hushed whispers with their friends about who their teammates will be, what sort of teacher they’ll get, how much fun it’s going to be. Nana tries not to feel nauseous. The whispers quiet down as he announces each team, some groaning in exasperation while others cheer excitedly and reach out to friends.

Iruka calls out team five, team six, and then-

“Team Seven will be composed of Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Nana, and Haruno Sakura. Your teacher is Hatake Kakashi. He will meet you here after lunch.”

There are hushed whispers and upset murmurs, particularly from the girls with a crush on Sasuke. The boy himself looks indifferent, while Sakura seems torn between glee and uncertainty. Nana just feels sick.

This is it. This is her team. Some events, it seems, are inevitable, regardless of what she changes. But down that path lies a slippery slope into gibbering terror, so she staunchly ignores it. The rest of assignments go by without any notice, and before she knows it, Iruka is releasing them for lunch. In a flurry, the rest of her classmates get up and rush to join up with teammates and friends, but before she can leave, Iruka calls out:

“Nana. A word, please.”

Cold sweat drips down her neck.

“Sensei?” she asks politely, desperately praying that he won’t try to talk to her about what happened, that he won’t prod her for details over how she killed his friend-

“Because you missed the genin identification procedure, you’ll have to speak to your team sensei about getting it done on your own time,” he says. And that’s it. No lecture, no anger, no grief or hatred.

Just an apathetic reminder to fill out her forms.

“Yes sir,” she replies, and for a second, she waits. Hesitates. Wonders if he’ll say anything else. But he doesn’t look back up at her, instead carefully sorting through the papers on his desk. It’s a clear dismissal, and she takes it, slowly turning away and heading out into the corridor. As she slides the door shut, she lets herself take one last look at her former teacher.

And then, she closes the door.

Sakura Haruno doesn’t quite know what to make of her current situation. On one hand, she’s on a team with the boy of her dreams. It’s the perfect opportunity for them to grow closer, for her to sneakily touch Sasuke’s hand when reaching for the same kunai, for him to offer some extra teammate training, just her and him...

And on the other hand, there is Uzumaki Nana. Sakura has never spoken to her. To be honest, she forgets the other girl exists more often than not. She’s quiet, but seemingly cheerful. Studious, but mostly mediocre. Kind, but distant. Sakura knows that most of her other civilian-born classmates hold Uzumaki in contempt for some reason or other, but she’s never really seen why. Ino did once tell her it would be best to stay away from her, though Sakura had figured that that was just childish jealousy over potential threats to her best friend status.

And now Ino isn’t her best friend but her rival, she’s on a team with her crush and Uzumaki, and she has no idea what to do. It would be nice to make another female friend, especially one who seems to hold no interest in Sasuke, but a part of her is desperately uncertain. What if Ino thinks she’s going after Uzumaki as a replacement? They look incredibly similar after all, even if their personalities are wildly different.

Ino is outspoken, whereas Uzumaki is calm. Ino is argumentative, while Uzumaki sits and listens. Ino complains loudly about the extra training her dad makes her go through, while Uzumaki stays behind almost every day to train.

Ultimately, she decides to at least try to talk to Uzumaki. After her usual request to sit with Sasuke for lunch is stoically rejected, the next obvious choice is to ask her other teammate.

She waits outside the classroom nervously, fingers squeezing the pretty bento cloth her mother had chosen for her. Thankfully, Uzumaki exits fairly quickly, though she looks strangely pale.

“Hello!” Sakura decides to say, blinking as the other girl flinches.

“Haruno-chan?”

Uzumaki sounds confused, even a bit incredulous, but Sakura pushes on.

“I figured we should eat lunch together, since we’re teammates!” she explains cheerfully, pushing down the anxious fear that roils in her chest at the possibility of rejection.

“I... forgot my bento at home,” the other girl explains hesitantly, brows furrowed as though she can’t comprehend why Sakura is talking to her. And yet, it isn’t a refusal.

“That’s alright! We can share mine! I’m on a diet anyway.”

For a moment, Sakura thinks she’ll say no anyway. Thinks she’ll smile politely and tell her thanks but no thanks, before rolling her eyes the moment she turns away.

Except that doesn’t happen. Uzumaki just looks stunned.

“That’s... you shouldn’t be dieting at your age. But if you don’t mind sharing, then I’d be happy to sit with you,” she says, voice cautious, and surprised joy blooms within Sakura’s chest.

“Of course! I asked, didn’t I? Come on!”

She can’t help her excitement, even as Uzumaki stares at her outstretched hand. And when she carefully takes it, the excitement bubbles over into delight.

Sakura leads her new teammate over to her favourite spot, a little grassy knoll close to where Sasuke usually eats, and primly sits down, unwrapping her bento to reveal the contents inside.

“Ugh, mom put tempura in again, even though I told her fried foods are bad for the skin! Do you want it?”

Sakura holds out a pair of spare chopsticks, grateful that her mother had packed extra for today. So you can share with your teammates, she had said cheerfully, even as Sakura had protested.

Uzumaki hesitates for a moment, before taking them, a small smile on her face.

“Yes please. Thank you, Haruno-chan. But you should eat some too. As long as you wash your face and eat vegetables, then your skin should be fine,” she explains, reaching out to snap a piece of tempura from the box.

Sakura hums. She’s technically right, but fried food can be so bad for your figure! It’s better if she stays away. At least this way, her mother won’t nag her about not eating everything again.

“Maybe, but I still think you should have it. And you can call me Sakura-chan! We’re teammates now!”

Sakura can’t help but be nervous as she waits for Uzumaki to finish chewing, fiddling with her own set of chopsticks. Finally, Uzumaki swallows, and gives another smile.

“Then call me Nana-chan, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura grins, cheerfully pushing over her bento to her new friend. Inside, she’s squealing in delight, with Inner cheering her on exuberantly.

“So!” she exclaims, leaning forward to talk. “What do you think about Sasuke-kun being on our team?”

Having lunch with Haruno Sakura is an incredibly strange experience. She giggles and gossips, twirls her hair and bounces excitedly, and yet there are moments of shyness and hesitation, though she quickly bulldozes past it with another hurried statement. She is superficial in the way thirteen year old girls desperate to fit in are, but she isn’t malicious.

To be honest, when she had first asked Nana to join her for lunch, she was not expecting much. Maybe some hostile prodding over Sasuke, or even some cattiness over her general existence. Sakura does none of that. Instead she offers food and gossip, though she has a tendency to drift from the subject to moon over Sasuke or curse out Ino. She talks about her crush, and while it’s a bit over top, it isn’t obsessive like some of the fanfics had made it out to be. She’s ignorant in the way most civilian born children are, talking excitedly about future missions and becoming badass. In a world so fraught with subterfuge and secrecy, Sakura is... a breath of fresh air. She is normal. So, so normal.

For a moment, Nana can almost pretend she’s a typical student hanging out with a friend, chatting about normal, silly things. Can pretend that she hasn’t sliced through a man’s throat with a knife meant for children. By the time the bell rings, Nana has eaten most of Sakura’s lunch, and is aware of almost all of the drama that apparently happened in their classroom. At the sound of the bell, Sakura gets up, brushes her skirt and adjusts her headband, and pumps her fist.

“Alright!” she cheers. “Time to meet our sensei! And... Sasuke-kun.”

She blushes in anticipation, a wobbly smile cracking against her face, and Nana huffs out a soft laugh, even as her stomach flips nervously.

Sakura continues to chat as they make their way back into the classroom, pausing for a moment to stick her tongue out at Ino, who huffs and pulls a face in return. Sakura turns her nose up, and tugs Nana along to a desk.

It’s strange to sit next to someone who is interested in talking and interacting with her, who gives her excited little smiles and whispers conspiratorially about what their sensei might be like. When Iruka walks in, Sakura lets out a soft squeal.

“Good to see you all back here. Your teachers should be arriving shortly to pick you and your teammates up. I will stay here to supervise and answer questions in the meantime,” he announces, before waving his hands frantically as a cacophony of noise reaches him.

Nana takes in a deep breath, and tries not to tremble. Beside her, Sakura is yelling out comments to Ino, who gleefully returns them with vigour.

One by one, jounin enter the classroom, call out their team number, wait for them to group up, before heading off. Sakura manages to get the last word in before Ino has to leave, and appears to be viciously delighted by the fact.

And then-

“Team Seven, with me,” a deep voice calls out, and Nana snaps her head up. Iruka seems similarly surprised, as he gapes for a moment.

Slouching by the door is Hatake Kakashi, both hands stuffed into his pockets as he conveys an air of boredom around him. Nana feels like she’s been hit with cold water.

Why is he here so early? Shouldn’t he be late?

But before she can spiral, Sakura has put up her hand and is standing up, nudging Nana to follow. She lets her teammate herd her towards the door, swallowing dryly as they get closer to Kakashi.

“Hello sensei!” Sakura calls out cheerfully, before flushing red as Sasuke slowly approaches. “Hello Sasuke-kun.”

He grunts, and doesn’t look at her.

Kakashi eyes the three of them lazily, before letting out a huge sigh.

“Come on. Meet me on the roof,” he says, and immediately disappears.

Sakura lets out a startled shriek, and the sudden noise makes Nana flinch. Sasuke just looks irritated, but he doesn’t spare them a glance as he makes his way towards the stairs.

“Ah! Wait for me- us, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura exclaims, before turning to Nana. “Come on, let’s go!”

Once again, Nana is pulled by Sakura to their destination, and it’s a miracle that neither of them trip as she herds her up the stairs. Kakashi and Sasuke are already on the roof by the time they arrive, and neither seem impressed.

“Thanks, Sakura-chan,” Nana says softly, and the girl turns to give her a smile, before turning sheepish when Kakashi clears his throat. He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded, and looks at them with amusement.

“Good that you both finally made it. Now then... I think it’s time we introduce ourselves, yes?” he chuckles out, eyes crinkling as though he’s grinning beneath his mask.  

“Ah, how should we introduce ourselves?” Sakura asks worriedly, even as she sits down cross-legged beside Sasuke. She shoots him a nervous glance, giggling softly, even though he doesn’t react. Nana joins them, carefully sitting next to Sakura.

“Name, likes, dislikes, hobbies and future goals, and so on,” Kakashi explains, before sighing as Sakura opens her mouth again, still looking confused.

“I’ll go first. I’m Hatake Kakashi, call me Kakashi-sensei. I like some things and dislike others, I have hobbies and my goals are none of your business. Your turn,” he says cheerfully, pointing at Sakura whose eyes are thunderous. The sudden attention makes her falter, and she blinks.

“Oh! I’m Haruno Sakura, I like...” she giggles nervously, eyes darting to Sasuke before swallowing. “I don’t like bugs. My hobbies are... sewing and reading. My goal is...”

She breaks herself off again, face red, and Kakashi sighs.

“Alright. You?” he says, moving to point at Sasuke.

The boy crosses him arms, a scowl on his lips as he stares their new teacher down.

“Uchiha Sasuke. I don’t have any likes. I dislike annoyances. My hobby is training. My goal is to kill a certain man,” he growls out, studiously ignoring Sakura’s exclaims over how cool he is.

God, these are just kids.

The thought hits Nana suddenly and violently, and she can feel bile crawl up her throat. Her teammates are just kids. One traumatised and without any support, and the other so clearly fodder for the machine that continues to grind up and spit out little girls like her.

When Kakashi turns to Nana, it takes everything she has not to vomit or stutter.

“I’m Uzumaki Nana. I like the colour green and sweets. I don’t like... umeboshi. I train with my friends and read as a hobby. My goal is... to be a good shinobi.”

She can’t help the way her voice lilts up towards the end of the sentence, as though she’s asking a question. Kakashi looks at her, face unreadable, and it’s enough to make her stomach churn in anxiety. But then, he claps his hands, eyes once again crinkling up into crescents.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims. “Let’s hope that by tomorrow evening, you’re still shinobi!”

“What?!” Sakura shrieks out, and even Sasuke looks incredulous, scowl deepening into a furious glare.

Nana is unable to pay attention as Kakashi riles them up with mocking little statements, cheerfully explaining how they aren’t real shinobi yet and still have to pass his test.

This is it. She’s at the start of it all.

She tries not to hyperventilate, breaths shaky and uncertain as the sound of the others slowly fades away. Her hands ball up into fists, nails not quite cutting the skin, and she shuts her eyes. God, how is she going to do this? How the hell is she going to survive?

By killing others, comes the unbidden thought, and immediately, she thinks of Mizuki, the way he gurgled and gasped, and it takes everything she has not to curl up into a little ball and despair.

“Nana-chan?”

A gentle hand rests on her shoulder, and she tries not to shriek, but she can’t stop the automatic kick she sends towards the owner of the hand. As her vision clears, she can see Kakashi in front of her, hands open and calming. The other two are nowhere to be seen.

“Kakashi-sensei?” she asks, voice shaky, and he nods, giving her a smile.

“Yep! Sorry to startle you, I noticed you were off in your own head, and told the other two to head on, since we still need to do your paperwork,” he explains cheerfully, and it’s enough to drag her back to reality.

“Oh- yes. Yes, I was late this morning. Sorry to make you do this,” she says sheepishly, hand jerking up to rub the back of her head.

“No worries! I’m your sensei now after all.”

Kakashi watches her carefully, face unreadable, and she swallows, forcing herself to smile.

“Lead the way?” she asks.

For a moment, Kakashi does not react, eyes boring into hers as though he sees absolutely everything she’s hiding, digging deep into her soul and weighing everything up.

And then he smiles.

“Of course! Right this way.”