Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part I

She was covered with the dust of books, a film of grit lying like a second-skin over her exposed arms and hands. It was oddly comforting, a shield against the outside world. She practically bled ink and she smelled of aged paper, stale yet inviting. It was her natural state. At the nearby work station, bits of paper were strewn about almost like confetti after a village parade. It was a showcase of her profession, of everything she ever worked for.

While the ninjas had their throwing stars and kunai, she—Okuda Chisato, that is—had books and paper. And it was clear, through the meticulous methodical organization of those archives, that she was truly dedicated to her vocation. It has been said that only insanity or love could lead to that kind of careful cataloguing.

Perhaps it was more the latter.

Who could say for sure?

The items contained within that archive were commonplace, for the most part. They were mission reports, missives from the capital, and a whole lot of clan histories. Most of those histories had been collected by Chisato herself in her bid to protect the oral storytelling of her village. They were carefully handled, painstakingly transcribed and recorded by hand. They were nearly all written in her formal script, preserved for the ages. By her estimate, there were over three hundred recorded stories in that particular section of the archive alone.

That number was growing every day.

The permanent ink stains on her fingers were evidence of her constant struggle toward the maintained literary heritage of the village.

She was an archivist, a librarian, a researcher.

It was said that Okuda Chisato "bled ink."

Like authors keep bits of paper with frivolous notes, Chisato kept each piece of paper that was provided by the donors. Every letter of eviction, every love note with sweet nothings scribbled during spare moments. Some were from the battlefields of the Second and Third Great Ninja War. Some from the founding of the village itself. Especially the love notes. Always the love notes. She kept everything she possibly could. Such was her conviction. There was no such thing as an 'unimportant' document. All of it contained a story to be told.

That was her upmost belief.

Every person holds a story.

As she was reaching for a file at the crest of the bookshelf, she felt a cool hand rest upon her shoulder. Chisato let out a yelp of surprise. So lonely was the job of the village archivist that she rarely received visitors. And she was no kunoichi, so she had not sensed the presence of another person in the room until it was too late. The hand pushed her back down while another reached up to grab the file with ease.

When she turned, she was face-to-face with her husband. She was tall for a woman, thick and solidly built. She stood eye-to- eye with him, something that he loved. Despite his impressive muscles and his meaty presence, she did not cower. She instead puffed out her chest. "You scared the daylights me, Keisuke!"

"Sorry, sorry." He chuckled. "You know, you'd have to see daylight every once and awhile to know what it is."

She never could quite understand what he found funny most of the time. He was just naturally happy and cheerful. His endearing smile rarely left his face. It was a permanent fixture, a constant. As constant as the trees around the village. Even at the young age of twenty-five, he had laugh lines that patterned his face. Many of his friends and family said that he was the "happiest man alive." He often attributed that to his sweet wife.

She knew he had been happy since birth and never fell for the endearments.

Whenever that easy grin departed though, she always knew that the situation was dire. When he handed her the file, his crinkled eyes glanced downward. His expression grew a tad more serious. "You should be more careful in your condition, Chisato. You're already going against the doc's orders. This is about as far from 'taking it easy' as one can get, you know?"

Chisato gave him a look and he immediately held up both hands in surrender. He nervously laughed off her glare, one of his hands reached up to tug at the lobe of his ear. It had always been his nervous habit, tugging at that meaty part of his right ear. Running her tongue along her teeth, the archivist shifted her heavy weight from one leg to the other.

No matter how she stood, her body was uncomfortable. Her lower back ached terribly. Her feet throbbed from her almost-constant standing and she could feel the child within her moving around. It seemed the child would be like her father, enthusiastic by nature. When she ran her hand over the thin fabric that rested over her stretched skin, she could feel feet pressed against her palm. There was a distinct pressure in her pelvis, which she had been ignoring all day.

She was thirty-three weeks along.

"Do you have a reason for coming down here, Keisuke? Not that I don't love seeing you, sweetheart, but you hate it down here." She maneuvered herself around him, brushing against his thigh as she did so. He laughed at her cheeky smile. "You do not normally brave the catacombs in the middle of the day, if you can help it." She glanced back and her gaze skittered over his attire.

Light gray flak jacket, form-fitting clothing that helped with his infiltration missions. Metal arm guards rested over his forearms. His mask was hooked onto his belt, a Bear peering back at her with intimidating red and brown markings. Her lips pursed and she turned back toward the work station. She nervously set about fiddling with the papers that rested there. That mask of his always made her uneasy.

"I didn't expect you to come by while you're on duty."

"I received a mission today." There was a sudden and undeniable weight in his voice and the air in the archive seemed to shift. Chisato felt a chill run down her spine. Her husband rarely used that tone of voice. She slipped the file onto the desk and waited for the inevitable. She was far from uninformed and she was far from ignorant. She knew what mission he had been assigned. She just prayed against reason that she was wrong. "Minato requested that I serve as a guard. Tonight."

And there it was.

Chisato turned on her heel and forced down her instinctual reaction.

If she were any less of a person, she might've told him to deny the Hokage his wishes.

If she understood her husband a little less, she would have shook her head and told him that he had to look after his own family.

After all, his child was due to arrive in only a few weeks.

What if something went wrong? What if he never got to see his baby?

However, Okuda Chisato knew the situation and she knew her husband. It was his duty to protect the Hokage and the Hokage's kin. It was Keisuke's duty to protect Kushina and her as of yet unborn child. From that alone, it was her—Chisato's—duty to support her husband in that mission, by any means necessary. Even if she felt it was too dangerous. Even if she wanted to keep him to herself. It was her role as the wife of a ninja. Her hands fisted at her sides and she nodded her head. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Keisuke shook his head and the room seemed to grow even heavier. "It's my squad that's been called as guards. Minato knows he can trust us beyond all others. We're the first line of defense." His fingers fiddled with the mask on his hip. Chisato glanced to his shoulder, becoming entranced by the swirling tattoo that rested there on his thick bicep. She could remember when he got that tattoo, when she had traced her fingers over it in bed the following morning. He was so proud of his promotion. He was so proud to serve the Hokage—No, not just the Hokage. Okuda Keisuke was proud to serve Minato.

They called him "Captain" due to his experience in the field and he took his role seriously. He was well-respected. Earned his position through hard work and gumption. Years and years of missions, and now, he would be leading one of his most perilous tasks yet. And there was nothing she could do but support him. Nothing she could do. A thrill of fear lurched in her stomach and she thought she would throw up. Her hand absent-mindedly fell to her belly.

"You should go to the compound," Keisuke said after a moment. "There's no guarantee that things will be safe, you know? We both know how disastrous this could be." The threat went unspoken, but Chisato knew better than most what would happen if the demon got free of its bonds within Kushina. Oh, she was far from uninformed. She had seen such things before, the disasters that followed the loosing of the titans. "If you go to the compound, you should be safe. Besides, I would bet that Chōza would like to see you. We haven't had time to go to dinner lately."

In the blink of an eye, an arm was wrapped around her shoulders as he stood behind her, his other hand snaked down to rest on her stomach. She leant her head back against his shoulder. Something in her felt ill, sick. She worried that this would be the last time she would be held by him. She wondered if this would be the last time she would feel the warmth of him behind her. "Look—Look out for them, Keisuke. Minato has his hands full." She turned her head and pressed her lips against his cheek. She spoke as calmly as possible. "I am with you. Always."

"Love you," he murmured in return. He pressed his lips to the swirling pattern on her cheek and then, quite suddenly, Chisato was alone in the archives once more. He was fast, impossibly fast. For a single moment, she regretted that she never became a ninja like her brother. If she had, maybe she could have done something more.

The strength in her body seemed to leave her and she stumbled over to a nearby chair. It let out a metallic wail as she fell into it, her head was held in her hands. To herself and to the stories that surrounded her, she let out her worry in tearful gasps. Somehow, Chisato knew that she would never see her husband again.

Call it intuition.

Call it foreboding.

A pain erupted in her stomach then and she sucked in a gasp, hands flying down to rest on the lower side of her pregnant belly. Her thickly shaped brows pulled together as she held her breath. It was impossible. Too impossible. She sucked in a gasp as it throbbed.

She was only at thirty-three weeks.

It was too early.

Another cramp made her shudder and Chisato's eyes went wide with realization. Taking a big gulp of air, she glanced around to the scroll that she kept for emergencies. It sat at the far edge of the workstation table. Her gaze skittered toward the elevator and stairwell entrance.

There was no way that she would make it up the archive stairs and she felt certain that she would be unable to stand with the intensity of the pain. The elevator was too far away. Gritting her teeth, she flailed her hand toward the scroll—her fingers scraping against the red and green parchment.

Grunting, she extended herself a little further and was able to wrap her fingers around it. Her shaking hands set to untying the knot and she let the scroll fall to the floor. There was a small explosion of smoke.

It was Keisuke's summons. An emergency scroll. The Bears protect their own. The tip-tap of claws could be heard before Chisato felt the world begin to tunnel. Her heart felt as if it were beating at twice the speed it should have been.

Thirty-three weeks.

Early.

Too early.

"Shinrin," she wheezed. The pain was growing too quickly.

What if she couldn't get to the hospital in time? She was meant to go to the compound, to see her brother and his family. To be secure with them until her husband returned from his mission. What about— She grimaced, trying not to bite her tongue as the pain lanced up from between her legs.

The baby— coming. Now. Too soon. Far too soon. She couldn't feel her legs. "Shinrin…"

No! She couldn't let this happen. She was stronger than this.

She would have to fight it, fight until she could get to the hospital.

It was so sudden.

The small bear pawed at her shoulder. Its head flicked to the right and the left, gray fur catching the lights. "Lady Chisato! What's wrong? Where is Lord Keisuke?"

"G-Get someone. A-Anyone. Please."

The cub ran.

The night was warm and humid, strange weather for October. Such an atmosphere had ANBU Bear on edge. He wasn't concerned so much with the goings-on inside the cave. That much would be in the trusted hands of the Hokage, Lady Biwako, and Taji. He had no doubts that Minato would do everything in his power to see the birth (and the seal) safely through. Not only that, Kushina was far too stubborn to die during childbirth. Still, he would be lying if he said the screaming didn't leave him wincing on the inside. Outwardly, though, he was completely emotionless—as any good ANBU should be during a mission. An errant thought made him wonder if his wife would cry out like that. He would never be able to bear his Chisato screaming like that.

It was the only thing that he was dreading about becoming a father—the pain that Chisato would have to endure.

Jumping onto a rock outcropping below, he dropped into a crouch. "Sense anything, Jackal?" All wayward thoughts of his little family were pushed from his mind.

"Negative." The ANBU subordinate responded, glancing toward the squad leader. "Orders?"

Bear stood up and glanced about at the dark scenery. It had been an hour since he had sent Stag to run the perimeter. Considering that man's Swift Release, he should've been back long ago. "I want you to run the perimeter. Keep yourself well hidden, Jackal, and see if you can find Stag while you're at it." The white-haired ANBU disappeared. Bear glanced back toward the three other ANBU under his command. One stood atop the pagoda, acting as a lookout. Hyuuga's always had been good for that position. Two others flanked the entrance.

A new—even more pained—scream rang through the air. Sighing, he turned back around and looked out at the forest. It was lucky that he had placed a barrier of silence over the entire two kilometer radius. Anyone with ears would be able to find them otherwise.

Hell, Iwagakure would be able to hear that kind of noise.

Yes, he hoped Chisato wouldn't scream like that.

He could handle a lot of terrifying things, usually with a smile on his face. But he certainly couldn't deal with that. And his wife would want him with her at the birthing.

Several minutes passed without incident, but it was that very silence that had Bear feeling even more uneasy. Once again, he pushed the thoughts of his wife from his mind. He was being extremely unprofessional this evening. Maybe, just maybe, it was the feeling in the air. That tenseness that promised disaster. When he was younger, Bear's father had taught him a parable about such atmospheres: You must be aware, son, that it is often that from the calmest weather that the fiercest storms arise.

The air was too still, too calm. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

His head snapped fifteen degrees to the right. There it was. He could sense it.

"On alert." He stated in a low voice. The ANBU stationed behind him tensed at the sudden order. "Chakra presence in the tree line. My two o'clock." It was such a small amount of chakra that one might have overlooked it as an animal at first. Perhaps it was a signature meant to be overlooked. The kind adopted by infiltrators and spies. The feeling of it however, was so sinister that it inspired waking nightmares. Killing Intent. It left as quickly as it came, but it would've had any other shinobi shaking in their combat gear.

ANBU Bear was no other shinobi. He didn't quiver. He just continued to stare in the direction of where the signature had last been felt. It appeared again and again, dancing all about the tree line. Bear fisted his hands at his sides.

"He's toying with us." Wolf commented, darkness dancing around his feet. "I can feel him in the shadows. He's waiting for us to make the first move."

"Do not leave your posts." Bear ordered in response. "Under no circumstances are you to allow this enemy to pass. Am I understood?" He shifted his weight, ready for whatever came out of the woodwork. With a smooth motion, he withdrew his short sword and prepared for an incoming attack. "I warn you. Leave this place at once. You will only receive one warning."

A figure stepped out of the shadows. Those shadows, under the direct control of Wolf, tried to keep him from moving. They were shaken off like nothing. This made a lance of uncertainty cut through Bear's chest like a kunai. Wolf, otherwise known as Nara Shikaru, was one of the most powerful Naras the village had to offer. Perhaps the smartest as well, apart from his brother, Shikaku. For Wolf to lose control like that, the enemy's power must have been unbelievable. The clouds above moved just enough to allow moonlight down on the scene. Wolf's shadows faded away.

The man was masked, wearing a black cloak that hid his body. A hood covered the back of his head. Only one eye could be seen. That eye gleamed in the shimmering moonlight, a menacing red color. Bear recognized it immediately, of course. Anyone would recognize that eye. An Uchiha. Behind his back, the squad leader signaled in code for the others.

Level Four—Hostile. Extreme caution.

"I will ask you once. Will you please move aside?" Such manners didn't seem to fit the situation. It was like the cat before the fish, one can never let their guard down in the presence of a known threat. When the ANBU guards did not move, the masked man shrugged. "So be it then."

"Wolf, Bull. Maintain positions. You know what to do." The formation changed as he ordered it. One of those under his command dropped down to the water in front of him. "Cougar." The ANBU Cougar charged.

The battle lasted less than ten seconds. Really, it couldn't be called a battle. It shook Bear to the very core. To see Cougar, who was the best taijutsu specialist in the village, taken out with one single punch to the chest? Frightening didn't even begin to describe the terror that he felt. A friend of nearly ten years had just been killed in front of him in the most brutal way a man could be murdered. Hyuuga Hotaka's heart was thrown toward the forest for the animals to eat. His body dropped into the shallow water at the edge of the bank, blood diffusing in the lapping water. Bear didn't even want to think of the man's family, of his younger brothers.

Wiping his hand off, the masked-man shook his head. "And this is the extent of Konoha's premier ANBU? Such a disgrace."

Bull started forward, but Bear held out a hand. "No, don't fall for the bait."

"Captain—"

His attention went to the observing enemy nin. "You killed Stag and Jackal?" The opponent did not answer. Confirmation. Three of the best ANBU within less than an hour? Three of his good friends gone in such a short amount of time. This man was S-ranked or worse. The newly gleaned information did not bode well. With a hand signal, he motioned for Bull to warn the Hokage.

Before the larger ANBU could even turn to do so, the unknown ninja appeared in front of him. Bear started toward the defense of his friend, but the very fabric of reality seemed to bend. Bull disappeared a moment later and the swirling of reality was pulled back into the mask. It was frightening, sickening. Space-Time was under this man's control. That could mean only one thing. Bear just prayed he wasn't right about his guess. When Bull was spat back out again, his body was mangled and torn. It was almost as if Akimichi Daiki's skin had been peeled off, leaving only his muscles visible. It did not bear looking at. Bear steeled himself as he did during times of war.

War.

He felt sick.

Bull had been his cousin by marriage.

That man had been family.

"Who are you?" The ANBU Captain questioned, slowly collapsing the silence barrier. If he could negate it entirely, then the Hokage would hear the proceedings outside of the cave. He could get some warning before all hell broke loose. He wondered though if Minato would be able to hear anything with Kushina's screams covering the sound of battle. Best to bide his time. "You're stronger than anyone I've encountered before. That's saying something. I've fought some pretty impressive enemies."

"Mm, a compliment." The man said in a pleasant tone. "I thank you, Okuda. If you step aside, I will not kill you forthwith."

Bear snorted, trying to hide his lurch of raw fear. He, being a shinobi, was well-aware of his own limitations. True enough, he was an expert in his skill set. He was able enough to rise to the rank of ANBU Captain, something that had been preached as "impossible" since his childhood.

Okuda Keisuke was no pushover though. He was strong in his own right, but he also knew a lost cause when he saw one, especially one that put his own limits to the test. Still, that didn't give him any doubt in his words as he spoke them.

There was one man that he would give his life to protect above all others and, at that moment, Bear knew that he was the only thing keeping that man and his family safe. If he failed in his duty to protect the Hokage, he would never forgive himself.

"I'd rather die than betray my Hokage to the likes of you," Bear growled. He prepared himself for an attack, crouching into his particular taijutsu stance. His knees bent and his elbows rose.

The masked man shrugged again. "That can be arranged, too."

Muttering under his breath, he turned to share one last look with Wolf—Shikaru. Back in the day, they had been teammates. Team Five. It seemed that they were finally going to die together. He supposed it had been a long time coming.

"Hold him off as long as you can, Wolf. Die trying. Do not help me. Those are direct orders."

I wish you the best.

Nodding, the Nara positioned himself directly underneath the pagoda, the last line of defense.

"Tch, you don't need to tell me that, Bear."

Good luck, my friend.

Stepping forward, the Okuda tried to keep the negative thoughts from his mind. Inside, his best friend—for that was what Minato was to him— was becoming a father. Kushina was suffering through what had to be a terrible birth. If the roles were reversed and he were the one with a birthing wife, Minato would have done the same. He would have given anything to protect those important to him. Little Naruto should be welcomed into the world by both of his parents, not by some psycho with a mask. If it took his life to see that through, then it was a duty he accepted. No matter the cost.

A hand extended outward, tossing the sword he held away. Kenjutsu was not his strong point, never had been. There would be no sense in wasting time with it. His skill lied mainly in ninjutsu. He would use that to hold off his enemy. Launching into a series of complicated hand-seals, he dropped the silence barrier entirely. The wind began to twist and crackle with energy as he prepared. Over Kushina's screams, he doubted the sounds could be heard. It was the best he could do.

His arm blocked a quick blow and he leapt to the side, avoiding every hit that the man aimed. Once he had the masked-man far enough from the cave entrance, he made a dragon seal.

Out of the clouds above, a column of clouds and wind dropped over the opponent. With quick motions, Bear threw over one hundred kunai into the swirling vortex. It was his deadliest attack and the most expensive in terms of chakra.

The masked-nin looked unruffled as the tornado died away. "Storm Release, eh? How quaint." In a fluid movement, Bear was knocked backward, splashing into the thin water. He couldn't even figure out how he had been hit. The movements were just too quick. It was disorienting. Especially since he often sparred with Minato. This man would give even the Hokage a run for his money. Maybe even a run for his life? No, Bear wouldn't allow that to happen. "You're brave. I'll give you that much. If a little reckless—"

Grinning, though the man couldn't see it, Bear pushed himself up and leapt away into a graceful backflip. Underneath the water, where he had laid just moment before, the rocks began to glove a faint red color. As the tags exploded, the fabric of reality ripped open again and swallowed what would have been a massive blast. Nearly seventy explosive tags and there was not a sound issued. The man must've realized that the barrier of silence was gone. Bear cursed to himself and readied for another attack. The masked man only turned slightly to face him before blinking out of existence.

Performing another dragon seal, Bear avoided a killing blow to the chest with a quick sidestep. His fingers twisted into various seals and water shot up into the air as a wall rose from the ground. It was another barrier, on that blocked ANBU Wolf from view, as well as the cave in which his friends were located. It was like a black and crimson veil had been dropped over the scene. That barrier was his strongest on hand and Bear could feel the cost of it in his chakra reserves. He was starting to get weaker and weaker.

So many years he had striven to become a good ninja warrior—a good, skillful shinobi.

Was this the extent of all that work?

Could he not even save his friends?

What about Chisato? What would become of her if this masked man released the Kyuubi?

"You are quite skilled with barrier techniques. Something learned, perhaps? Cannot say I'm surprised."

He felt something hit his chest suddenly and he was tossed backward, tumbling over the water to make sudden contact with the newly-formed barrier. It shattered like thin ice and he careened about thirty feet beyond a silent Wolf. A stray thought occurred to him then. His barrier would not weaken like that unless…Unless…He weakly forced himself into a standing position and appeared in front of Wolf again with a flicker. That blow had been mortal, he realized. He could feel it now. His body's senses were catching up with the injury. He was on borrowed time. Not much longer.

Minutes, perhaps. Only minutes.

His arms began to tingle, a chill settling in his toes. His fingertips…he couldn't feel them.

"You're still standing." The masked man observed, sounding vaguely impressed. "That is quite a feat, Okuda. You should be proud. You are either strong or stubborn."

Both.

Bear was fighting to remain conscious and upright. If he failed in this mission, even the genius Nara wouldn't stand a chance to hold this enemy off, and then Minato and his family would be in danger. They would be completely helpless to an attack. To his last breath, Bear steeled himself, he would protect his friends. Minato had saved his life more times than he could count. This time, he would return the favor. Gathering his chakra, the ANBU Captain prepared for one last push, one last ditch effort. His lips curled up into a smile and he forced out a chuckle. That son of a bitch had no idea what was coming his way. After all, he didn't earn his rank as an ANBU for nothing. He had worked hard to earn that position.

If anything, Bear—Okuda Keisuke, that is—knew he was going to go down fighting. He'd fight to his final breath.

That was his Will of Fire.

With a speed that only a desperate man could possess, he sealed his clan's most powerful technique. "Good luck, Wolf." The Nara nodded and the sequence was complete. The rush of wind raced outward from the Okuda, effectively pushing the masked attacker out and away from the cave with a reddish-purple energy. Lightning crackled with it. Overhead, thunderclouds swirled ominously. This was the pinnacle of his strength, his last attempt to protect his Hokage.

Somewhere in his mind, he wondered if history would remember him.

He knew that it wouldn't.

History never remembers the unnamed soldiers.

Bear fell to his knees, shame cutting through him like a blade. He didn't have the strength. The water splashed with the sudden impact of his collapsing body. Like a sling-shot, the technique collapsed inward. Bear fell forward onto his hands and knees, breathing heavily. He had always dreaded the day when he would hear his own death rattle, the sound of blood in his lungs.

He never thought he would die like this—at the hands of such a nemesis. The evil chakra appeared right before him, but the energy to fight was no longer in him. He had nothing left, no energy to keep fighting. One of the downsides to such a powerful attack, it drained too much chakra.

A foot came out of nowhere, kicking him from the water into the air. And the masked man jumped up with him. With one glowing hand, Bear's stomach was punctured. The same hand, in rapid succession, hit several of his vital organs. He was repeatedly stabbed. He could feel bits of himself being pulled away with each jab. Never had he believed he would die in battle. Foolishly optimistic. That's what Minato had always said. Still, Bear thought he would live to see his own grandchildren someday. Finally, the hand was withdrawn from his right lung. A moment later, he fell back to Earth.

He didn't even feel it when his body hit the water.

Somewhere in the mist, he could hear his final barrier seal being broken. It caused his body to lurch as blood flooded the back of his throat. Wolf was completely open to attack. Bear could hear the Nara fighting with all he had—trying to keep the opponent at bay. Shikaru…His last living teammate…With as much strength as he could muster, he rolled to his stomach and tried to move toward the fight. There was a last ditch effort. The masked man had Wolf by the throat.

Then, everything went eerily silent.

His head fell forward into the water and he felt himself somewhere else, distant.

Everything seemed…

He prayed that Minato and his family would survive, that he wouldn't meet them in the afterlife too soon. He prayed for his wife, that she would survive with their baby, who was due in a month's time. His little Miho, his little sweetheart. He'd never get to see her.

He hoped she looked like her mother.

A smile pulled at his lips, but he was too weak to sustain it.

He heard an infant's cry and the world went black.

The hospital was in disarray, absolute chaos. There was an overflow of critical injuries, far too many for the hospital to manage. Triage was set up in the emergency room and an overflow was set up in the evacuation facilities. Hospital staff had never seen such a large scale disaster and many were unpracticed, fresh medic-nins who had never truly seen such widespread devastation.

The traumatic injuries were disturbing to even the most experienced of doctors—missing limbs, blast-like injuries, partially torn bodies, and crushed bodies. Some were deemed lost causes, as is natural for any sort of triage situation. Whole families had been killed, entire clans wiped out of existence.

In a small corner of that overrun hospital, a little infant girl lay alone in a tiny bed. Her eyes were closed and her chest struggled to rise and fall. Her skin was a pale pinkish color, thick black hair peeking from under her light pink toboggan. The bed was covered by a plastic dome-like structure, something that was placed half-hazard over the little baby to keep her warm and to keep the air oxygen rich. The sounds of the world, of the chaos outside, felt distant there. It was the best the doctors could do in the middle of a crisis.

A nurse entered into the dark room, holding the door open for a man as he stepped inside. Light and sound filtered into the room from the tumultuous hallway. His expression was grim as he looked to the woman who lay still in the large bed at the center of the room. Her limbs were lying at her sides, her hair still matted to her forehead from the stress of labor. He could still see ink stains on her fingers from her work in the archives. The distinctive swirl markings of his clan tinted her cheeks.

The man's exhausted gaze lingered on the eerily still form of his sister, a sick feeling entering his stomach. She was too young to die, only twenty-two. Two years younger than him.

His baby sister, dead.

She had been dead for hours, he realized. She had died alone.

Nothing set him more on edge than that nauseating realization. Chisato had died alone. He couldn't imagine her pain or her fear. Giving birth in the middle of a disaster—premature at that.

She had to be so scared.

A high-pitched fussing sound caught his attention and he turned slightly to see a small bed in the corner of the room. His breath caught. How could they—"You…You left the baby here?" He strode over to where the infant was housed, his large hands rising up to rest on the plastic dome. It was a little girl. They had been intending to keep the gender a secret until the birth. It was meant to be a happy occasion. The little girl squirmed, little swirls evident on her cheeks. A sad smile pulled at his lips. She took after her mother. "You left her with her d-dead mother? For how long?"

"We… had no choice. Okuda Chisato died just moments before the attack." The nurse sounded anxious and grief-ridden. Chōza watched her frantic eyes skitter toward the doorway. "If there is nothing else, Lord Akimichi, I must get back to the emergency room. We have far more infants than we can handle at the moment. Most of them will be funneled into the orphanage system as soon as possible." The woman started for the door, obviously readying herself for the onslaught of mayhem outside. He watched the nurse pause on her way out. "She died for a few moments." His brows rose, gaze flickering down to his tiny niece as she took small, quick breaths. He felt sickened. He nearly lost everything of his sister—including her daughter. "That little girl right there is a survivor."

With that, the nurse left.

Akimichi Chōza pulled in a breath and settled his attention once more on the baby—an orphan. Okuda Keisuke had been killed with the rest of his ANBU squad. His body had been found only a couple hours after dawn. And Chisato…Reaching down, he took hold of the clipboard that hung on the edge of the bed and read the notes that were scribbled there. She bled out. His sister bled out after giving birth to her daughter, his niece. 

"Miho," he murmured. Tears began to fill his eyes as the stress of the past day began to topple over him like a tidal wave. So many had been lost, but that little name made him feel the first bit of happiness in hours. "They named you after your grandmother, my mom—our mother. Mom. I-I should have known. Chisato always said…She said she would…"

He pressed his lips together and nodded, swallowing down his tears.

This was what Keisuke would want, what his sweet sister would want. There was really no question about it, no inner debate over the merits of what he was about to do. It was natural. Keisuke had been an orphan with no family. This was his course.

This little girl had nowhere to go, but to her mother's family and he would take her in with wide open arms. No doubt entered Akimichi Chōza's mind or heart. His wife would be in agreement. Her kind heart knew no bounds. Their own child was only a few months older. He would gain a sister out of the ashes.

This was one of the easiest decisions in his life, if the heaviest.

"Akimichi Miho," he murmured to the infant. "I'm your Papa now." He glanced over his shoulder to his sister's body and then his eyes glanced toward the window. Smoke was still rising from the ruins of the village. He followed that smoke to the blue sky above. "Chisato, Keisuke…I'll-I'll protect her as my own."

Chapter Text

It was not unusual to find the girl hidden away in the Akimichi Clan library, tucked behind stacks of books and scrolls. For some, the little one was haunting in her zest for the written word. She took to it like a duck to water. A rather odd duck, as some of the Clan Elders would say. She was sometimes too articulate, too sharp. At times, she seemed older than her years. Nevertheless, they patted her head and smiled as she tucked books and scrolls under her little arms and waddled her way home. They saw a ghost over her shoulder, another woman that thrived on ink and paper. Elder Chojiro had to stop himself from calling out to the young girl by her mother’s name.

Chisato.

It was the Clan Head’s wish that Akimichi Miho not know her true parentage until she was a genin, of-age in her own right as a kunoichi. He cited the complexity of the story— too much for a child to understand. How did one explain what they could not explain? Even Elder Chojiro did not know large swaths of information about the incident.

The Clan Elders had a bet established though.

Some wagered quite a hefty sum (a year supply of dango) that she would realize her own parentage before Chōza could tell her. After all, she was a smart little thing. She would see the inconsistencies. Two Elders set their bets on before she left the Academy. Four for after.

Elder Chojiro? He knew better than to place bets on such a thing.

After all, anyone could see that the girl would never reveal her knowledge if she knew it would have negative impacts on those for which she cared. It would have negative impact, of that much he was sure. The little girl, as perceptive as she was, would realize that too. Such a revelation would jeopardize the easy peace of the Clan from her perspective.

The Clan Elders were prepared for all eventualities. She would always be Akimichi.

He watched her a while, when she and her brother were playing in the courtyard. They ran this way and that, laughing and yelling and filling the solemn Akimichi manor with the happiness of children once more. She and her brother wrestled a bit on the porch at the other side of the courtyard. Pipe halfway to his lips, the Clan Elder observed as she stopped, her foot catching the side of the porch, her body overcorrecting on the edge.

She pushed her brother free of her arms— to safety – before she fell.

And she did, indeed, fall.

That action told him all he needed to know about the youngest generation of his clan. 

Akimichi Miho lumbered to her feet. Her movements were uncoordinated, stiff, and awkward. The Elder watched as she looked around, tears shining on her purple cheek swirls. But she was facing him, not her brother. From his watching place, Elder Chojiro observed how her pained expression shifted to one of resolution. She pressed away the tears with her sleeves. Once she seemed to have herself upright, her hands batted at her yukata top.

When she raised her head, her eyes met his.

She seemed to think for a moment before she smiled and turned.

On the porch, her brother sat and watched with wide, worried eyes.

“It’s okay, Chōji. I’m not hurt.”

Pushing himself up from his hiding place, the old man shuffled into the adjacent meeting room. Pulling in a final huff from his pipe, he savored the burn in his chest and the thrill in his lungs. He could hear the game resuming outside, all thoughts of a topple falling away. The laughter was a welcome sound.

“Elders, I have come as requested.”

Akimichi Chōza entered the meeting space and bowed like the polite lad he was. He sank to his knees before the Elders, only raising his head again when the eldest among them bid him to.

“Look up, boy. Look up. Haven’t we been through all of this enough times? You are Clan Head. You need not bow to us with such reverence.” Chojiro smirked at his wife. He still enjoyed watching her even after all their years together. She was a true shrew and he loved her so. “How went the meeting then?” The edge in her voice was unmistakable.

It was an edge of fear. One they all knew well.

The village was resting on the edge of a kunai.

Chojiro had known the boy, Chōza, since he was born. His nephew had grown into a strong man. That strength was not merely physical. No, Akimichi Chōza was a quiet force. A kind, quiet force. He weathered each storm like a boulder, firm and solid. But even boulders erode with time. So, when a righteous anger overtook his nephew’s face, Elder Chojiro knew that the situation was dire.

“What have you to tell us, youngin’?”

“The Uchiha Clan…I fear that the situation is growing more hostile.’” Chōza sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Though I can understand their frustration, the village council’s bias has become too great. I fear for their clan. The Three Clans have voiced our disapproval of the increased taxation of Uchiha District exports however, we were overruled.”

“Again.”

“Again.” Chōza confirmed.

“This affects the whole village. If the export tax is raised, then we will all suffer the consequences.” Elder Ayumu’s stern tenor resonated with barely repressed rage. “And their thinking is what? That we will hate the Uchiha for this inconvenience?”

A few of the Elders scoffed, but Chojiro saw the dark expression on Chōza’s face. Apparently, so did Ayumu.

“Indeed? That is their plan?”

At this realization, a flurry of panic went up in the room. If the village council sought to alienate the Uchiha further, then who was to say that the Akimichi, Nara, or Yamanaka would not be next? It set a deadly precedent if left unchecked. Chojiro had been alive long enough to know how propaganda worked. He saw it spun up in the Second and Third Wars.

Now, it was being used to undermine the Uchiha.

What was worse, they were helping it along. Like fire to kindling, as was their way.

“That is only my assumption.” Chōza sighed. “We fear what will happen when the taxes are put into effect a few months from now.”

The laughter of the children outside broke the heavy silence of the room. It drew the eyes of every weathered soul in the room to the shadows of the children, running along the porch outside of the meeting room. Chōji chased his sister, each of their heavy footfalls rattling the floors. Despite the tension, Chojiro felt himself smile, catching sight of the endeared grin of his nephew.

“The young youngins remind us that whatever actions we take, they shall reap.” His wife’s words were like a kunai, piercing through to the heart of it all. “Shall we leave the Uchiha to their fate? Shall we help them in this? What more can we do? What will affect our children?” Her questions hung over the room like a scythe as the children continued to laugh, giggle, and call out to each other outside. “Does this…change our confidence in Konoha?”

No one spoke.

Whatever the decision, Akimichi Chojiro only hoped that the two children would not face such questions against their own village in their time.

Though, he knew, that was a fool’s hope.

She knew there was more to it. There had to be. Snapping the book closed, she pushed herself up to her knees and then stood, one foot after the other. Grimacing a bit at the wrinkles in her yukata top, she hefted the book under her arm and stepped into the kitchen. Chōji, her brother, sat at the table. He was devouring what looked to be a triple-level sandwich. Miho felt her mouth water a bit at the sight of it, but she needed to stay focused. She had a task to complete after all. With little effort, she dropped the book onto the table and watched the satisfaction as everything on the table jumped.

“Miho! What did I say about dropping books on the table?”

The girl had just enough conscience in her to look chastised. “Don’t do it.”

“I said what?”

“You said not to do it.” Scuffing her shoe against the tile, Miho shuffled a bit before jerking her head up with a grin. Her mother— honestly, bless her heart— didn’t even recoil. In fact, she didn’t seem the least bit affected by the fly-by contrition. “There’s another volume of this, right?” 

This, though, did catch her mother’s attention. The woman turned, a hand coming to her hip as she eyed her daughter’s bright eyes and smile. “You’re done already? You just got that one two days ago!”

Miho glanced to the gigantic volume and nodded, pursing her lips. Maybe she’d read it too fast? Did she read it too fast? How fast was too fast? She could remember what it said though, so maybe she didn’t read too fast.

“Miho—”

“I want to know why.”

Chōji looked over from his sandwich. “Why what?”

“Why the Second Shinobi War started.”

Akimichi Miho stared up at her mother, waiting for an answer. The book never provided a reason. There were plenty of numbers and battle descriptions. There were stories about the great heroes: the Sannin, the White Fang, all of the great people. There were even counts of dead, wounded, and missing. But there was no reason. Why did Konoha go to war? Why did they fight with Suna against Iwa?

Miho didn’t know a lot of things, but she knew that wars had causes. Every little child knew that fights didn’t just happen.

After all, Miho herself didn’t deck Morimoto Yumi without just cause.

No one did anything without reasons, no matter how terrible those reasons might be.

“The writers left out a reason for the war. They just said it happened. So, why did Konoha start the war?”

Part of Miho knew she was pushing it, but she stared at her mother, waiting for an answer.

However, her eyes shifted out of focus.

A few words and phrases skittered around in her mind in a language she didn’t know. Or maybe she did know it. Maybe she heard it somewhere. They were words she knew, but she didn’t know. She just understood them, but she was certain she’d never read them before. Propaganda and revisionist history were darting around in her mind, linking all of the disparate pieces together.

It happened every so often and it always felt like this— as if the pieces in the jigsaw puzzle of her brain were fusing together and drawing lines.

When she was littler, her father used to tell her stories about how the first generations drew lines between stars to make pictures. Those pictures became constellations. And the Constellations, grateful to People for helping them become what they were, helped the People to find their way and housed their stories.

So, when Miho was struck with these thoughts and feelings and sensations and inklings and memories and pictures that linked things and thoughts together in her mind, she called it “constellating.”

She didn’t understand why her thoughts made sense, only that they did.

She didn’t understand why they felt like they were hers and someone else’s, but they did.

When her eyes focused again, she could see the thoughtful expression on her mother’s face.

“Konoha didn’t start the war. There was an unprovoked attack at a guard station. Iwagakure killed the team stationed there. That team had members from four main clans.”

Miho nodded her head, even as she doubted the unprovoked nature of the attack. In all the history books she’d read, Iwagakure was more underhanded. They never attacked outright. Instead, they destabilized or attacked by-proxy unless a war had already started.

“You can get the second volume tomorrow after school. For now, sit down and eat.”

Shifting one leg up into the chair, Miho pulled herself up and settled down on the chair beside her brother. He smiled around half of his sandwich, reaching out to affectionately pat her head. One, two, three pats as usual. A plate of noodles was placed in front of her with a low whistle from her mother. The noodles were coated in a thick sauce. With a quiet exclamation, the girl dug into the meal.

“Chōji, are you and Shikamaru getting together today?”

“Mm. This afternoon.” He popped a few chips into his mouth.

Miho could feel the happy energy radiating from him. Nara Shikamaru was seven-- their age-- and, over the course of the past few months, had become her brother’s best friend. Where Chōji went, Shikamaru followed and vice versa. He was a good guy that always had Chōji’s best interests at heart, even if he was a bit on the lethargic side. It was convenient, given how their father and Shikamaru's were on a team together. 

Slurping up a big wad of noodles, the little girl withered a bit under her mother’s scolding stare. Right, don’t slurp. Adjusting her elbows on the table, Miho made another go at it, careful not to make noise as she ate. Her mother was a stickler for manners and etiquette.

“We’re going cloud watching! Hey, Miho! Do you wanna go with us?”

Smiling, Miho shook her head. Her cheeks were stuffed with noodles. “Training. I’m meeting Lee at Training Ground 10.” Her attention flickered up to the clock and she gasped, hacking when some noodles shot to the back of her throat. As she coughed, she threw herself out of the chair and poured the rest of the bowl into her mouth, holding it on her tongue while she finished getting the broth from her throat.

“You’re not late. What’s the rush?”

Chōji turned to watch her grab her backpack from her basket by the door.

She stopped, swallowing down the rest of her meal. “Lee said I needed to do a hundred pushups before he gets there or I’m gonna have to do a hundred pullups! I hate pullups.” Seeming to think again before hurrying out the door, the little girl turned on her heel and ran to her mother, throwing her arms around her thigh. Her mother patted her head with a soft laugh. “We’re breaking our records today!”

“You will be on time this evening, Miho. It’s—”

“The First Three Clan Meet-Up!” Chōji had been excited about it for weeks.

The Nara and the Yamanaka Head Families were meeting them for dinner at a local barbecue restaurant. Miho knew why.

“You need to be home in time to clean up.”  

“Yes, Mama!” She swung around the table to peck a kiss to the swirl on her brother’s cheek. He hummed happily, grabbing a chip from his plate to pop into his mouth. “Tell Shikamaru that I’ll have that book back to him tonight. I promise!”

“That’s what you said last week!”

“Promise!”

“He’s not gonna buy that!”

Acting as if she didn’t hear him, Miho threw herself out of the front door. As quickly as she could manage, she ran down the street and then another two side streets to the training ground. Making her way down the forest path, she grabbed a chocolate bar from the side pocket of her pack. The chocolate was a high calorie intake bar, with 500 calories per bar. This was her third of the day. It was only just after noon.

Her metabolism didn’t work like her brother’s. That’s what Clan Elder Ayumu said, who was the senior clan doctor. At the time, she was five and didn’t understand why she was different from Chōji. She was taller and stockier. Chōji had to eat less than she did to maintain his weight. Miho ate more high calorie meals and snacks because her body burned through the intake quicker.

At least, that was what Elder Ayumu said.

“My dear,” she had whispered. “You are a force. But you are not the same force as your brother.”

Which also meant that she would not inherit the clan techniques.

She couldn’t maintain the calories needed for them. They burned off too quickly. Some sort of strange Akimichi anomaly. Basically, Miho realized, she was weird. She was still heavy-set, “big-boned,” and thick, and a head taller than others in her class. A head taller than kids in the class ahead of her. She still inherited the clan taijutsu, but…Well, that just meant she had to learn other things.

And learning was Miho’s favorite thing to do.

Chōji needed the clan techniques to become the leader of the Akimichi one day. To support him in that, Miho resolved to do whatever she needed to.

Like doing one hundred pushups in the mid-July heat.

The grass under her palms felt an odd mixture of cool and hot and her fingertips itched as she pressed herself down and then back up again. Her arms burned. Her stomach burned, even as it brushed the forest floor with each dip to the earth. Every so often, her fingers would spasm to grip the grass for traction or strength pulled from the roots.

Around the seventy-one count, her limbs shook and quivered before she fell into the grass at seventy-five and didn’t rise again. Her head turned to the side and her breath made the blades of grass dance in front of her eyes. There was an ache in her muscles, but it seemed to seep into her bones.

And the longer she lay there, the less she wanted to get back up.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a rumbling thunder. It was miles and miles away, but it echoed off of the mountainside and down into the village. The air was becoming humid, a slick film coating the exposed skin of her face and forearms. The energy was in the air. She could feel it. Her eyes closed Miho remembered that same energy and thunder.

Thunder and rain and a screech and flashing lights and something painful and hard. It hurt, but only for a moment.

But she also remembered flat land as far as the eye could see with tall grass swaying in the breeze. On the horizon, a thunderhead grew and drew closer. With it, a curtain of rain fell over the plain. She’d never seen a plain before. She’d never seen such magnificent storms.

She’d never watched clouds spin and wreck and etch their way across landscapes.

She’d never chased those spinning clouds in a strange metal contraption. The same one that broke and shattered and twisted. She had been chasing then. Chasing one of those cloud towers.

Tornadoes, her mind supplied like instinct.

Little Akimichi Miho remembered bits and pieces of another life.

And it usually didn’t scare her. It just was.

But as she lay there, waiting for Lee to arrive and for the rain to fall, she made more constellations.

Her mind supplied things that made little sense, but she knew they were right. Her mind remembered things that weren’t her but were hers. Like choruses of songs that would come to her mind like wisps, bouncing around until they found their way out of her mouth. In a language she did not recognize, but that she knew.

Or faces of people she knew mattered and meant something but that she couldn’t name. One though, she was sure, was her mother. Somehow, she knew she would never forget her—no matter how many lives she cycled through. A soft, round face and blonde hair and no-nonsense written in her features. Sad, angled eyes.

There were other things though.

Every so often, a twinge of recollection or recognition. Like she knew this place, like she knew Konoha, from another perspective. The images were flat, like comic books. Or they were moving, like cartoons. Miho could never seem to wrap her mind around it.

But she saw things.

People.

And she knew them before she knew them.

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes opened to a pair of sandals. She huffed, turning over onto her back. Lee stood over her, large brows pulled together in concern. He shifted down to one knee to get a closer look. “I’m good. I’m good.”

Obviously relieved, he settled down onto his rear, folding his legs. “It is going to storm soon.” He reached back to pull his braid over his right shoulder, a nervous mannerism.

“A little storm can’t stop us.” Miho smiled up at him, settling a hand on his knee. “We’ve got work to do!”

His large eyes widened before he grinned, raising a fist. “You are right! We have work to do! Let us work hard, Miho!” Rock Lee was already on his feet, holding out a hand to help her upright. “I will do five hundred kicks. You will do two hundred laps. Are you ready? If we do not do this, then I will do six hundred jump ropes and you will do three hundred pullups.”

“Let’s get it.”

            Let's get it, kids!

Miho felt a flare of familiarity in the phrase, like she’d said it a million times before in a dream. That Other Life again, that Other Place. Then. Not giving herself the time to think it over— or to acknowledge Lee’s momentary confusion with the odd phrase— Miho took off running. She smiled at the distant yell of determination as his counting began.

Hours later, when the sweat was soaking her yukata top and her leggings and she was leaning against the dented tree stump, Miho handed a calorie bar over to her friend.

“We’re improving. You completed your task.”

“I need to do better.”

Pressing her lips together, Miho nodded. “Yeah, me too. We’ll get there.” A calm moment passed with just the rustle of the leaves and the still-distant cracks of thunder. The storm was closer now, but not yet arrived. “Don’t listen to them, Lee.”

He didn’t say anything, but she saw his hands grip together until his knuckles went white.

Lee was in the class ahead of her and he suffered daily from the taunts of the other students in his year. It was a constant barrage of meanness. The kind that only children could deliver. Miho knew first-hand how cruel other kids could be, how unnecessarily mean and uncaring. It’d only become occasional for Miho after the Morimoto Yumi debacle. No one wanted to face down a giant with a mean right hook. But Lee faced it every day. Like Chōji.

“You’re gonna be stronger than all of them, Lee. Just keep working on it.” Pushing herself up, Miho brushed down the damp front of her yukata before holding out a hand. Lee stared up at her with barely concealed adoration, taking her hand to allow her to haul him up. “Wait for it, Lee.” 

        Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it.

Clapping his shoulder with a grin, she grabbed her backpack

“You are the same, Miho. Do not give up on your dreams either. Together, we will prove them all wrong. I just know it.”

Miho agreed and bid him a good night, heading toward her home a few blocks away.

Dreams were something Miho grappled with, wrestling down the instincts to chase them with abandon. But her dreams and the dreams that were expected of her weren’t the same. She wanted to stay a civilian, work in a trade, and die old. She wanted to do anything but fight. Anything but destroy. Her Clan needed her to be a second to Chōji, a strong kunoichi in her own right, able to support him when he took up the role.

“There’s my pumpkin blossom!” She felt a set of huge arms wrap around her middle, tossing her up into the air before settling her on his shoulders. She could recognize her father’s deep bass voice anywhere. She set her hands on his red hair, angling forward to smile at the side of his face. “Were you off training today?”

“Hi, Papa! I did two hundred laps around the training field today!”

“Good! You’re improving. I expect Lee will be upping that count next time?” Miho hummed in agreement and Chōza laughed. His laugh was a warm one that always seemed to make her feel as if she’d won some sort of prize. “Another storm is coming in this evening. Are you excited for it?”

Miho didn’t answer, leaning forward to examine the new scar on his left cheek. She didn’t feel like talking about storms today. “Papa, did you get hurt on your mission?”

Chōza adjusted his hold on her legs, an obvious tell of his discomfort. Miho brushed a finger over the scar, brows drawn together in concern. “A stray kunai. It was hardly a close call.” Still skeptical, the little girl crossed her arms. He huffed in amusement, jostling her just a bit. “If it makes you feel any better, Miho, the other guy looks worse.”

“Of course he does.”

Her father boomed a great laugh as they entered the clan compound gates. She waved happily to the guard on rotation. Her cousin, Chihiro, waved back with a smile. The woman used to babysit her when she was littler. When they passed under the great elm tree on the path toward home, Miho decided to just voice her thoughts. After all, they’d been bouncing around in her head for days.

“Do I really need to go to the dinner tonight, Papa? I won’t be part of the formation.”

Miho couldn’t tell if it was her tone or her words that made her father falter. She felt his arms come up settle his hands on her sides. He hefted her up as if she were nothing and set her upon the ground, lowering himself to one knee in front of her. His large hands settled like training weights on her shoulders. Oh, she realized. This is serious. She must have mis-spoke.

“Sorry, father, I—”

“You do not need to apologize, Miho.” His dark eyes focused on hers, making it difficult to look anywhere else. “I know you may feel left out tonight. The bond between the Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi Clan Heirs must be strong. Tonight is just a step toward forging that bond. You must remember that you are important. You are no less important than Chōji or Shikamaru or Ino. You are the honored daughter of the Akimichi Clan.” His grip grew stronger. Miho could feel the question in the action and she nodded. “If anything, those three may envy you. You will have more freedom with your team and future than they will.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Poor Ino.”

“Speaking of Ino,” her father rose to his feet again. He held out his hand for her to hold as they made their way toward the house. “Try to get along with her. She’s…”

“Intense?”

“We’ll use that. Yes. She’s intense.”

Miho waved that thought away like she was batting away a fruit fly. “Ino’s never bothered me too much. Most of the time, I think she means well. She just doesn’t realize she words things in bad ways.”

“That’s very giving of you.”

“Ino doesn’t have a mean heart. Not like some other kids.”

He stood, holding out his hand for her to hold. She grasped on and trailed beside him. “Yes, like Morimoto Yumi?”

She pressed her forehead into his arm, trying to hide the heat in her face and the smile that pulled at her lips. For his part, her father pretended not to notice. “She had it coming.” His arm bounced slightly, in a way that told her he was chuckling. She jerked her head up. “You’re laughing! But you grounded me for that! Why’re you laughing?” His amusement built into another great laugh and Miho couldn’t help but to smile up at him. “Papa—”

“You just reminded me of a friend who also punched someone out at the Academy. He was around the same age, too.”

His chuckles died down. Miho watched as his expression became wistful, lost to memories. She recognized it as the one he wore when he talked about comrades that had died.

“There was a kid— and I can’t remember his name—that was bullying someone. Pushed her down. Out of nowhere, Keisuke appeared and punched the kid so hard he lost a tooth. Planted himself like a wall in front of the girl that was being bullied.”

Whenever her father had that kind of tone and expression, Miho didn’t ask questions.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know more. She always wanted to know more.

But she also knew that questions would hurt.

“I still got grounded.”

Her father blinked out of his reverie and looked down at her, smiling. That smile was full of both amusement and sadness. “You can’t punch your future comrades. No matter how mad they make you.”

Miho wondered if the loophole in that statement was purposeful or if he didn’t realize that specifying “punching” opened up a lot of opportunities other than “punching.” Rather than pointing this out, she just nodded and followed her father inside.

By the time they were in the restaurant, it was storming outside. The clouds raced overhead, painted red and orange by the lights of the village. The streets were quickly becoming muddied lanes of ochre, trails of water following cart paths. Every so often, thunder would shake the entire village. Once or twice, that thunder rattled the chopsticks. Miho’s attention trailed to windows, watching as water beat against the glass. Occasionally, a gust of wind dragged a wave and then another wave when the sound grew louder and receded again.

“— in the Academy, Miho?”

Miho snapped her head around and stared blankly at Nara Yoshino. Her lips quirked up in amusement at the obviously unfocused little girl. Repentant, the girl bowed her head a bit. “Sorry, Mrs. Nara. I was watching…” She gestured toward the river of water running down the glass.

“How are you doing in the Academy? You father said you’re quite the hand-to-hand combat type.”

Perking up at the question, Miho glanced to where the rest of the adults were talking and where Shikamaru and Chōji were quietly eating, trading occasional glances while Ino chattered about the general Academy gossip. When she looked to Mrs. Nara again, she noticed the patient pity in her eyes. “I love the Academy. I wish they’d teach us hand-to-hand weapons besides kunai, but I like my teachers and…most of the other kids.”

“‘Most of the other kids,’ huh?” The woman grinned, leaning down conspiratorially. “We heard you laid out an older kid.” Miho’s eyes widened, glancing to Shikamaru in shock. Mrs. Nara laughed. “Oh, no. My Shikamaru’s too lazy to tell that story. Your Papa was crowing your praises for it.” As if sharing a secret, the woman leaned even closer and cupped her hand. Miho knew such an action was for show because every ninja at the table would be able to hear her. “Don’t let them fool you. They’re happy you stood up to that little harpy.”

Cutting her attention toward her parents, Miho smiled and leaned forward as well, cupping her hand in the same manner. Mrs. Nara grinned, obviously enjoying the play. “Papa said I can’t punch future comrades anymore. But that doesn’t mean I can’t kick them.”

Mrs. Nara threw her head back and laughed, raising a hand to ruffle Miho’s wild mane of curls. “Big girl like you can handle them.”

Despite how often those words, “big girl,” were used to demean her, Miho sat a bit straighter and preened. She was the biggest person in their class, even bigger than some kids older than her. Sometimes, that was an advantage. Even if it did get used as a weapon against her from time-to-time. Miho knew-- being a big girl sometimes made her powerful.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Nara matriarch turned to the other kids, levelling a distinctly disapproving eye at her son, before she settled in to listen to Yamanaka Inoichi’s story about some mission in Kusa. Miho saw Shikamaru mutter something to Chōji while her brother grabbed some picked cucumbers from a nearby plate.

“Yumi’s nose will never be straight again.”

Ino’s voice held a distinctly disapproving tone and Miho turned to face her fully. The girl’s pupil-less blue eyes stared at her over the plates of meat and veggies. She could feel Chōji’s attention whipping back and forth, from one side of the table to the other. Outside, a peal of thunder rattled the street and the window behind her vibrated with the sound.

Her eyes unfocused for a moment.

In her mind, as if in a daydream, she could see Ino older and more mature. It was one of those two-dimensional images. Like a pictograph. Ino. Shikamaru. Chōji. On a battlefield. During a war.

A war.

Miho let out a shaky breath as her eyes focused again. Ino stared back at her, brows drawn together. Fear rippled through her skin, settling in her stomach and collecting energy there until the young Akimichi felt like she might throw up with the force of it. She couldn’t focus on Ino any longer, the same images flashing in her mind.

Actual flashes. Like explosions. The screen goes white and there’s nothing left.

Hands quivering, she grasped the edge of her skirt and kept clenching until her fingers hurt.

Flash.

“You’re alright. I’ve wanted to knock Yumi down a few pegs before and—”

BOOM.

The loudest thunder of the evening rocked the entire building and every person in the space flinched. Some of the more hardened shinobi even reacted, settling their hands on their hips. Ino yelped while Chōji grasped onto Shikamaru. Someone laughed while another several cursed. Miho felt as if that thunderclap had split the world in two, or three.

Tearing metal and racing winds and I can’t move.

            I can still hear you sayin’

A war, an explosion— flat, but there. And real.

The real world, where the thunder bounced into the distance as another lightning strike chased it away.

It felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her and she recoiled, throwing her hands over her head. A cacophony of sounds and images flooded and she raced to catch her breathing up because it felt like she wasn’t getting enough air.

There she couldn’t get enough air.

            Never break the chain.

Because there was something pushed through her lungs. And it hurt.

“Miho?”

Ino, Chōji, and Shikamaru on a battlefield. Ino was crying. Shikamaru was crying. A distant clap of thunder.

Trying to pull in enough air, Miho frantically looked toward her father who sat to her right. She could feel Chōji’s hand somewhere on her arm, but— When she saw her father’s face, his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear him.

Because the sound was just too loud.

“I can’t— Papa! I can’t!”

Distantly, she could see people moving behind her father, but her eyes remained on him, trained on him. He would know what to do. He would be able to make it stop. There was a dull ache in her side, but she didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because she couldn’t breathe.

           Never break the chain.

Maybe it was because that’s where the metal struck.

           Never break the chain.

But the explosion. In the distance, on the horizon.

The war.

Everything went white.

Miho felt herself stumble a bit and sank down to her knees, but she didn’t remember standing. It was everything, all of it. An onslaught. The crash and the war and—So much. Her breathing calmed and settled as she tried to regain control.

Wasn’t she at a restaurant? Where— Her eyes trailed around the white world.

In all that sea of white, there was only one pop of color. Yellow, blue, and an orange sundress. Yamanaka Ino stared back at her, arms crossed and eyes frightened. Her shoulder heaved with the effort to breathe. Terror seemed to alight around her. Miho shook.

“What was all that?”

Just like that, Ino disappeared and everything went dark.

Chapter Text

It was with an oppressive sort of malaise that Miho pulled herself out of bed. Her muscles ached and her head was throbbing. Gently as she could, she padded toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily to stare at the empty chair that was positioned by her bed. Blinking, she continued on her way, trudging through the bathroom door. After a few minutes, she raised her head to look into the mirror. Her black curls where an unholy mess, flattened into nonexistence on the right side of her head. It was her eyes though that made her pause, toothbrush in hand.

Not my eyes.

The reflex thought echoed away.

Yes, she thought. My eyes.

She could almost remember. Bits and pieces. The stars were there. Scattered remnants of another person, another her, from a world so-very-different. Or really, not all that different. A bunch of stories that weren’t hers, but were. She could piece them together. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to, but she could.

Miho could remember dying.

She’d been young— older, but young. Twenties, maybe.

A twist of metal and wind. One flip, two flips, three, four, five. Painful pirouettes before the crash down. A pipe impaled just under her right breast. The wind caught her car— a large moving metal contraption that she knew there, but not here. The wind sent it toppling, rolling until it rested upside down in a ditch. She could remember hanging there. Listening to the rush of rain and the radio playing—

          I can still hear you saying…

The toothbrush clattered out of her hand into the sink.

          You would never break the chain. Never break the chain.

The war was coming. An explosion on the horizon. Headquarters. So many people…And she’d watched it happen on a television. All of it, from distance. People she already knew here; people she didn’t. Ones she hoped to never meet; ones that she needed to meet. She had to meet. Half arches, shattered plots. There was only so much she could remember of the story— and it was a story— but she remembered the explosion and the deaths. She remembered the deaths more than anything else.

“Miho?”

Tearing her attention from the mirror, she turned to find her mother in the doorway. Before she could say anything, her mother’s arms were cradling her.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Miho fought her kneejerk instinct to pull away and instead buried her face into the crook of her mother’s shoulder, desperately grasping to the silk of her shirt as it stretched across her back. “Mama…” It was all overwhelming and, despite not wanting to cry, a few tears escaped and soaked into the silk. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Do not apologize, sweetheart.” Her mother pulled away, resting her soft hands on either side of Miho’s face. Then those hands pushed the curls back and away from her cheeks. “You have nothing to apologize for. You gave us quite the scare though. Why—” Her mother seemed to steel herself and Miho followed suit, taking a deep stabilizing breath. “Why did that happen?”

The truth was not something she wanted to say. Saying it out loud made it real. Saying it out loud could lead to psych evaluations, which would put the Academy and subsequent promotion into jeopardy. The truth was dangerous. A lie then. But, while her mother wasn’t a kunoichi, her father was. Not to mention that his two best friends were 1) the best strategist in the Land of Fire and 2) a literal mind-reader. So, lying to him wouldn’t be smart.

Evasion. 

“Can I just…not say?” Seeing the obvious flash of disappointment, Miho lowered her eyes to stare at her wringing hands. “Mama, I just…Please. I’m okay now. But I don’t want…”

There was a moment of tense quiet before her mother’s hands fell to Miho’s shoulders. She grasped there before leaning down for another embrace. Miho held on for her life. “Alright. That’s alright. But for me, confide in someone. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to be okay.” Though her mother was never one for empty platitudes, she pressed her curls down over and over again. “Everything will be alright.”

‘cause every little thing gonna be alright.

Miho tried not to jerk at the way her mind automatically supplied words, words in another language. Another song. It was only through sheer force of will that she steadied herself enough to justify a strong mask. She fixed it over her face like a wall and drew away. The grin she wore was not real, but no one would know the difference. Not unless they were inside her head. “I need to finish getting ready.”

“You can stay home from Academy today, Miho. After last night…”

Some part of Miho— another section of her entirely— scoffed at the idea of letting a seven-year-old decide whether or not she was attending school. That same section was a slew of words that Miho grasped at random. Mental health day and student welfare were among those. A part of her was impressed. Miho ignored that kneejerk reaction, pushing it away to examine later.

“I want to go. I can’t fall behind.”

Her mother tilted her lips. “If you’re sure…”

Miho nodded, turning back to the sink to grab her toothbrush from the bowl. “I’m sure. I’m okay now. I promise.”

Not okay. Decidedly not okay.

Rather than argue, her mother rose up and nodded determinedly. “Then I’ll make you a good breakfast and some fresh snacks for today, alright?”

A few moments later, Miho could smell the distinct aroma of bacon and, a little later still, baking pumpkin-spiced scones. Staying in her bathroom, Miho drew half her hair back and tied it off with a burgundy strip of cloth before getting fully dressed.

It was as she wrapped her elbows in bandages that Chōji appeared in the doorway, pausing only momentarily to heave in a breath before he charged at her. Miho barely had time to catch him, keeping him aloft as he seemed to go weak in the knees. Warmth flooded through her at her brother’s weeping and she sank to the floor with him, patting his bush of wild brown hair.

“Chōji, brother, I’m okay. Really, I am.”

“You just— You just looked— You looked so scared. I-I didn’t know what to do. Nobody knew what to do! Then you passed our and Ino passed out and it was so scary!”

Pressing her lips together, Miho exhaled a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. So Ino passed out as well. The flutter of fear that filled her stomach made it feel as if bile were clawing up her throat. If Ino saw…If she knew…

“I’m okay, Chōji.”

Not okay. Definitely not okay.

He wasn’t crying when he pulled back a moment later. Instead, his eyes were dead serious in a way that he rarely ever showed. Miho fought back a smile. As sweet and kind as her brother was, Chōji was also a force to be reckoned with when he was serious. “What happened?”

Miho stared back at him, trying to think of something to say.

Because lying to Chōji just wasn’t…

It wasn’t something she could do.

Instead, “I promise I’ll tell you. When I do, please believe me.”

“It’s…It’s something big, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He stared at her, considering her words for a long moment. Sighing, he nodded, looking to the floor. But he didn’t let go of her hand and Miho waited, knowing her brother well enough to sense he had more to say. His grip tightened and he looked up again, determination in his dark eyes.

“Tell me when you want. I’ll believe you. I will.”

Something lifted off her chest and she surged forward, pulling her brother into the tightest embrace she’d ever given him. And he clung back, grabbing onto the shoulders of her vest, as far around as his arms could go. Squeezing her eyes shut, for a moment, she forgot all of it. All of it. Every single scattered piece.

“Thank you, Chōji.”

It was a strange feeling, honestly, like two parts of her were warring with each other. Something had changed since the “Episode” which was a pun she didn’t intend and hated. The further she got from it, the more she could tell. Things were not quite the same as they were before. The stories that were hers then rang louder in her head and the stories that weren’t hers then rang even louder. She could feel a sense of foreboding welling in her stomach as they approached the Academy.

So many were there. So many from the story. Her hand delved into the potato chip bag blindly and she popped a bit into her mouth. She frowned, gagging at the flavor.

A bag appeared in front of her face as Chōji held it out for her to take. His other hand was extended to accept the pickle-flavored chips she held. Miho smiled widely, taking the proffered exchange. Chōji smiled in return. "I know you hate pickles. I love 'em!"

He made a dramatic show of eating the pickle-flavored monstrosities.

Miho smiled widely, throwing an arm over her brother’s shoulder.

“Cute.”

Shikamaru’s bored tone belied the small smile on his face. He folded both hands behind his head. Studiously ignoring the once-over he gave her, Miho stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth. He seemed to be picking her apart, analyzing each rumple in her yukata and the bags under her eyes. Chōji cut him a pretty obvious cautionary glance, but said nothing.

“You okay?”

Miho pulled her arm from around Chōji, looking around him to Shikamaru’s dull stare. “I’m good now that I’ve gotten some rest.” After a moment, she reached in the bag and handed over a large, particularly crunchy-looking chip. “Thanks for asking.”

He took the chip, popped it in his mouth, and smiled around it.

Once she settled in her desk, the performance seemed to end. Her shoulders rounded and she curved inward, all of the energy fleeing. Chōji sat in front of her with Shikamaru, munching as he watched others enter the class. Shikamaru was asleep already, head tucked against his arms. Her seat was in the back row, between a civilian boy—Kouji— and Uchiha Reiko, neither of which seemed to notice her deflation.

The room was different somehow.

Or maybe she saw it differently.

She’d seen it then. Flat, two-dimensional. 

Only a few brief flashes, swallowed up by more prominent images.

Like the war.

The story.

“Miho.”

Pulling in a deep breath, she turned in her chair. Ino stood with her arms crossed, brows drawn together and light blue eyes alight. A wince drew the girl’s attention and Miho could have sworn she saw something like exasperation flicker across her face.

“I wanna know.”

Uneasy at the attention Ino’s interaction was bringing— because Ino had never, ever interacted with her directly before— Miho tried to deflate even more. If she could deflate enough, maybe she’d become invisible. Still Ino held her ground and even puffed herself up even more, trying to appear bigger.

Which was not physically possible.

Even as “no” started to form on her tongue, Miho bit it down.

Ino, in a sea of white. Eyes wide and fearful.

She’d seen something.

When Miho looked up at Ino’s narrowed eyes again, she recognized the barely-visible fear.

It’s there, but Ino is the daughter of a major clan. She won’t show more in public.

She saw something.

“N-Not here.”

Ino was a force of nature and very used to getting her way. Yet, somewhere in the constellations and echoes in Miho’s head, there was respect. Ino, for all of her gossip-mongering and her domineering attitude, was smart and resourceful and good. Fundamentally, Yamanaka Ino was a good person.

So, with slightly more confidence, Miho sighed. “Later. Please.”

Just as Ino opened her mouth to answer, a whisper— just loud enough to be heard— broke through the din of the classroom. Miho heard it clear as day. Everyone at the back of the classroom did as well. It wasn’t like the offender was trying to be quiet.

“What’s Pretty Ino doin’ talkin’ to that fatty?”

Ino stiffened, scarily sharp eyes landing on the guilty party.

Miho looked the same direction. A few guys stood at the row next to the windows, eyes trained on her. Uchiha Sasuke sat on the row below them, looking back with a scowl. The girls who usually fretted around him were also watching. And with all of this attention, the obvious leader of the little group preened. Bait, then. They wanted a reaction. This was nothing new.

Utatane Tetsuya was the ringleader and, every so often, he made a gambit for attention. His targets shifted every so often and his little posse hung on every ill word. Apparently, he saw an opportunity in Miho.

They were a brave bunch of idiots.

Especially since she was maybe twice their size.

Utterly bored with their immaturity, Miho reached for her sleeve and held up the sewn-on symbol. Her eyes locked with Tetsuya’s onyx stare, which were alight with mirth. Oh, so clever. “See this? We literally put ‘food’ on our clothes. A little reading comprehension and critical thought would really help here.” She heard her brother’s choked cough somewhere in the rush of blood filling her ears. “But nevermind, your taijutsu shows you’re not really one for analysis.”

“Whatever, you gigantic tub of lard!”

Miho hadn’t even thought of a response to that winner when Ino charged up to them, all short seven-year-old gold-haired fury. Completely agog, the larger girl just looked on in mouth-agape wonder.

“What was that, Tetsuya? It sounds like you were making fun of Miho’s weight?”

Tetsuya scoffed, rolling his eyes. “So what?”

“So,” Ino simpered. By now, they had the attention of the entire class. When Ino simpered like that, it was usually a warning sign. Whenever she did that, she was usually about to land a killing blow— through word or action. “Feeling inadequate? Is your grandma being too hard on you? Do you really want to start a fight you know you’re going to lose?”

“Psh! As if I would lose to—”

“Ino, don’t.”

Pulling her punch at the last second, the class watched as Ino smiled at Tetsuya sweet as sugar. Her fist loosened into a pat, which she landed on Tetsuya’s cheek three times with mock sincerity. Miho had to withhold a laugh at the boy’s face. Two killing blows then.

“You’re lucky my friend Miho is so nice.”

With that very clear line drawn, Ino dropped her hand and walked back in Miho’s direction.

The class fell back into their separate conversations, but the attention of Chōji, Shikamaru, and the others at the back of the class remained on Ino. And Miho was really torn between wishing the girl would go back to her seat and being absolutely stunned.

“Later. You promised.”

“Later.” Miho agreed.

This time, she really meant it.

She hid it under the guise of a play date, which was just the right amount of manipulation to get past the guards and the Clan Matriarch, who beamed at her arrival to the main house. Ino put on all the bells and whistles of innocence: large guileless eyes, wheedling voice, and wide smile. The picture that everyone wanted to see or expected to see. After all, the Akimichi really wanted good relations with the Yamanaka heir.

Yamanaka Ino thought Akimichi Miho might close the door in her face when she arrived at the Akimichi Estate at half-past four. The other girl was deadpan, save for the slightest hint of grudging respect in her dark eyes. It was that grudging respect that told her she’d won.

And winning was something that Ino really liked to do.

“Let’s go to the garden.” The unspoken we can talk there was enough to get Ino to follow the gigantic girl outside to the ens. “C’mon.”

She watched the Akimichi with a critical eye, just like her father was instructing. Nonverbal cues, visual interpretation. Her movements were stiff, like someone who had sore muscles. Her steps were awkward and a bit large. Either intense leg strain or, if Ino’s theory was right, something else entirely. Miho’s head was held high. She was actually confident. It wasn’t some kind of mask at school or bravado.

Way overweight and big, almost twice Ino’s size.

Miho’s size was intimidating to a lot of Ino’s friends, but Ino knew better.

Akimichi Miho never started fights. But she did finish them.

Besides, Morimoto Yumi deserved that punch.

And Tetsuya would deserve whatever came to him.

Miho’s heavy footfalls stopped when she reached the back corner of the en.

The Akimichi valued closeness to nature in a similar, but different way than the Yamanaka. Her father always said that the Akimichi were the earth— rocks and boulders and dirt. The Yamanaka were plants— flowers and herbs. And the Nara were animals— deer and birds and balance. When Ino saw the rock garden, with lines raked into the sand and big moss-covered boulders, she saw what her father had been saying.

Miho slowly sat down, feet hooking over the ledge of the porch.

Ino sat down next to her a few feet away, turning to prop one knee up. Ino wasn’t much one for long silences or beating around the bush. “So?”

“I don’t know how to start.”

Nightmares.

That’s what Ino saw.

Nightmares that she knew were real.

Her— older and prettier and dirtier—on a battlefield. Nara Shikamaru— thin and half-lidded and barely alive— on a battlefield. And Akimichi Chōji— large and terrified and determined— on a battlefield. Her team. She knew that was her team. Other students at the Academy. People she recognized, older and hardened and scarred. Explosions and tears and so, so many people. So, so many dead people.

And unrecognizable things.

Unrecognizable faces and places, and Ino saw it for what it was.

Because Ino was smart. She knew she was smart.

And she knew that it was better to rip the band-aid off rather than let the wound fester. 

“You’ve been reincarnated.”

Miho started, head jerking around to face her. The girl’s dark eyes were wide and alight with fear. She was obviously afraid of what Ino would say, how she would say it, and who she would say it to. Despite what a lot of people seemed to think, Ino wasn’t mean. She didn’t like being mean. No, she liked to fix. Sometimes that fixing got interpreted as being mean, which was just stupid. Ino, first and foremost, considered herself a “fixer.”

“I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to tell anybody.” She flipped the bangs out of her eyes. The distrust wasn’t obvious, but it was there. “Something like that could cause a lot of problems.”

“It could.”

Ino huffed, losing her patience. “Trust me.”

The expression on the Akimichi’s face was clearly one of distrust, but then the ever-familiar tilt of resignation got the better of her instincts. Internally, Ino ticked another ledger in people she’d turned from ‘no’ to ‘yes.’ Somehow though, this victory felt a bit heavier. This wasn’t a switch that had no actual consequences. Ino could actually feel the weight of it. Because this was more.

“Reincarnation,” she prompted.

“Yeah. I guess so. I…only remember so much.” Miho’s head shook, the mass of curls bouncing. She grimaced. “Last night was…a lot.”

“And Konoha has some trees.”

The other girl snorted, seeming to relax a bit as she leaned back onto her hands. “I remember some of my last life. Bits and pieces. How did you—Did…Did you see?”

“You were freaking out. I tapped in.” Ino actually tapped her temple, smiling just a bit. “Dad scolded me for a whole hour. But then he said I was a prodigy for doing that. Because not everybody can.” Miho stared at her, waiting for the point. “When I jumped in your head to calm you down, I saw you die.”

“Yeah.” Her classmate drew in a big breath and held it. Then, with an explosive sigh she let it go. Ino kept quiet, watching. “There was a song playing. Did you hear it?”

“I heard it. I didn’t know the language.”

“It was playing when I was driving and then the wind knocked— I don’t know what the word would be here. Like, a ‘motorized cart’? I don’t know. But a pipe.” The gesture she made toward her side brought back the gruesome memory. Ino nodded, still quiet and still listening. She’d seen it. It was a quick image from the perspective of the person impaled, but she saw it.

A memory.

“I’ve had that for years. Since I was five and a storm came through. I guess I woke up. I’m still me, but I remember her. Parts of her. Pieces.”

She let that settle in the air like a blanket. That blanket quietened her voice. Ino could see how tired the other girl was. How long had she known about this other life? How much was she keeping to herself? She’d known for years. It had to be a lot to shoulder alone. The fixer in Ino was grappling.

“Then there’s what happened last night.”

“What were those battles? Was that me? I know it was me, but was it really me? And what was happening? Do you even know what was happening?”

Snapping her mouth shut, Ino cursed herself.

“Sorry, I just—”

“Please don’t apologize. I understand. I’ve been asking myself the same questions, but I already know the answers.” Miho smiled, but it was a sad thing. The Akimichi looked back out at the rocks and the raked sand, trailing her attention over the details until her eyes settled on the clan symbol etched into one of the rocks. “I don’t know how much I can say, Ino. And I’m sorry. All of this is…You were just trying to help.”

“Well, yeah.” Ino nodded magnanimously. “Tell me.” Then, knowing that it would take nothing else to get Miho to agree, she held out her hand with the pinky extended. “I swear I won’t ever say anything to anyone unless you want me to. But I saw what I saw. And I want to help you. Because that looked terrifying. And if I was scared, then I am sure you are too.”

The Akimichi hesitated as if weighing her options. Ino really didn’t see how many options there were. Tell her or don’t tell her. After a few moments, Miho raised her hand and linked her pinky. The swear was sealed. Ino was bound by it, and she wouldn’t break it.

Miho sighed. “I’ll tell you what I’ve figured out so far.” She pulled her hand away and seemed to measure her words. “There, our world is a story. Like, a novel or a comic book or a film. If something changes, then the story won’t happen the way it should or did. I—” Looking much older than her years, Miho turned. “Ino, this is…This is the future. I think.”

“The future?”

It’s a moment before Ino gets it. When she gets it, she’s on her feet and pointing down at the trodden Akimichi who just runs a weary hand over her face.

“You said this world is a story. It’s a cartoon. That was part of the show.”

“More or less, I think.”

She can tell that it is more rather than less.

“There’s…gonna be a war?”

Miho grimaced, obviously tossing around the idea of lying. The tells were so obvious that Ino had to roll her eyes. A cast away glance down and to the right. The slightest tremor in her right hand. Lying to a Yamanaka, really? Ino let out a derisive scoff.

“Stop thinking of ways to lie. I just swore. I keep my word.” With a sudden burst of determination, she reached out and grabbed the other girl’s meaty hand. “I’m not an idiot. That’s the future. And it’s a war. Do you know what happened?” Miho hesitated. “I saw it, Miho. And you can’t convince me I didn’t. So, you’re either gonna tell me or you’re gonna tell me, but I’m not letting this go.”

“You sure are stubborn.”

It’s said like an acquiesce and Ino lets go, sniffing and raising her chin.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Something broke in Miho’s eyes and, while young, Ino knows this is going to change her life.

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

Ino’s felt her eyes widen at the implication.

“What you’re gonna see, it’s gonna haunt you. It haunts me. It’s only been a day, but it’s there. Constantly.”

“What is?”

“What’s coming.”

"Go away, you freak!"

Miho’s attention perked up at the loudness of that screech. Rolling her upper body around to the corner of the building, she watched the lunchtime exchange. She was at her usual lunchtime spot in the shadows of the school, giving Chōji his time with his friends. The ones who she usually sat with had finished eating already, only having to eat half what she did.

Everything was “as usual” except for two things:

Yamanaka Ino was sitting a couple feet away, munching on her onigiri. Unlike the others Miho normally sat with, Ino paced herself through her lunch to time it just right with Miho’s eating. A small gesture, but one that Miho noticed the third time Ino had planted herself at her left side with a look that communicated a very clear dare.

Maybe, just maybe, Miho’s grudging respect grew a bit to actual admiration. As foolhardy and straightforward as Ino was, the girl was also dead-set on making changes. One of those changes seemed to be her friend group and outward attitude.

It probably shouldn’t have surprised her to much when Ino declared that they were friends.

“After all,” Ino added. “I know you better than anyone.”

After Ino’s mind walk, she was right. It was a rudimentary mind walk, one that her own clan would have fits over if they found out, but it was enough.

“We don’t have time to waste.”

“We’re seven.”

“Then we have— what?— ten years?”

Once Yamanaka Ino decided something, there was no convincing her otherwise. Miho just shrugged, giving a tired smile around her burger.

The shouted insults that broke through the normal calm of lunchtime brought attention to the second disturbance in “normal.”

          I sense a disturbance in the Force.

Miho jerked at the echoed voice in her head. It’d been happening with often-enough frequency that Ino had developed a name for it. “Echoes” is what she called them. Miho had just stared at her, not quite willing to give the intrusions a pithy title.

“You’re such a loser!”

Naruto.

He was standing only a few feet away from the boys who had insulted her a few days before. In his too-big hand-me-down, the little Uzumaki looked even smaller and more fragile. His expression was heart-rending. Miho felt sick at the way he seemed to shake in front of them. He wasn’t quite what she remembered.

The Uzumaki Naruto she remembered from there was brash and loud and—

“Ridiculous,” Ino muttered. “This is ridiculous. Utatane is really pissing me off.”

Ino didn’t know about Uzumaki Naruto, aside from what glimpses there were of him in her memories. There was enough, but not enough. The bare minimum to know he would become a war hero and a powerful figure. Enough to now he was a main character. Not enough to know everything.

Miho, as much as she trusted Ino (and she really, really did at this point), couldn’t bring herself to put her friend in danger with all of what she knew.

To show her or tell her some things would be to condemn her.

The memories that kept flooding in: the plot points, climaxes, plot twists, character deaths. The foreshadowing. The surprising re-emergences and redemptions.

Blindly, Miho reached out and smacked Ino’s arm with a low ‘shush.’

One of the boys stood and tossed something at him. When he didn't move to defend himself, Miho felt her vision begin to tunnel.

She couldn't seem to draw a breath.

Not again. Please, not again.

Images flashed in her mind—images from her nightmares.

Blond hair, red eyes. Blue eyes. Red eyes. Black flames.

A loud roar and a crimson moon.

An explosion.

Miho was on her hands and knees, fighting to gulp air. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, aching and burning. Ino was beside her in an instant, whispering urgent reassurances. By now, she recognized the signs.

Struggling to her feet, Miho tripped slightly in her haste to get to him. Her knee skinned the ground, but no blood came from the ripped skin. She had developed calluses long ago. Now that she could speak honestly with someone, Ino had pointed out something Miho should’ve long-since noticed. She fell so often because her mind had moments where it remembered a much larger body.

“You’ll get used to it again,” she said.

She had no idea why she felt driven to defend him. She never had before. She’d just let it roll by. She just let it roll by and that made her sick. She just knew that she had to do something. Now. She should have done something before she knew what role Naruto would play, who he would be, what he was dealing with.

Miho was ashamed. And that made her move faster.

“Stop it.”

In her peripheral vision, she could see Chōji standing. Shikamaru right behind him. The Inuzuka kid was still sitting on the ground.

Her attention focused on Tetsuya and his posse. Unconsciously, she adjusted her stance. Lee’s voice said it helped with balance. She wished Lee was out with her. She’d feel better about all of this.

“Stop.” 

She grabbed her potato chip bag from her vest and stuffed one into her mouth. It was a calming sensation. The salt distracted her from the hornet's nest she just kicked.

Miho glanced over to where Naruto stood.

He looked absolutely dumbfounded.

(Like the expression Chōji wore when she knocked Yumi out last year.)

"You really need to knock it off." She said through the remnants of potato in her mouth. Her chin rose and she looked over to where the blond kid stood. She was a whole head taller than him. Shifting herself until she stood in front of him, her focus fell on Tetsuya once more. “We’re all gonna be comrades, right? Why pick on people that might be—”

Instinct alone made Miho grabbed the back of Tetsuya’s head and jerked it downward as his punch glanced off her shoulder. He landed in a heap on her right side, face in the dirt.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

Letting out a breath, Miho stepped back to let Teacher Iruka by.

“I— I was— She pushed me!”

“Like hell she did!” Ino screeched, skidding up to her side. “You jerk!”

Miho shook her head.

“Don’t curse, Ino.” Their teacher admonished lightly, but there was no real bite to it. His attention fell to Tetsuya. “You need to work on your speed if you want to land a hit on Miho.” Teacher Iruka noted with a sardonic tone as he hauled the kid up. Miho felt her ears warm. “And you won’t be landing any hits outside of taijutsu spars. Detention. Today.” Iruka dragged Tetsuya away by an ear while his posse followed along under their teacher’s withering glare.

A little off-kilter, Miho turned and looked down at the still-stunned blond. Ignoring the sensation of memories, images, and stories mapping onto him, she did the first thing she could think of. She held out a hand. “Hi. I’m Akimichi Miho. You know my brother.”

“You’re meant to shake it,” Ino added with a sarcastic tone.

Instead of stunned, he’d transitioned into outright flabbergasted. His mouth opened and closed as he stared at her hand. Seeing that he wasn’t going to take it, she raised it up to rake through her curls and forced an uncomfortable laugh, looking surreptitiously toward her brother and Shikamaru for help. Shikamaru, of course, was no help.

Chōji smiled, waved, and ate a chip. His brows rose.

That was a good idea.

Her brother was a sweetheart genius.

"Wanna eat with me? With us?”

Jerking a thumb over her shoulder toward her half-eaten lunch, Miho grinned. Ino shot her a look, but said nothing. Miho knew Chōji had been feeding the Uzumaki for months already. This was something she could do. Something that might…make a difference.

“I've got lots of food. I got to. And Mama's the best cook in town."

She offered him her food.

Food was the lifeblood of the Akimichi.

When he didn't respond, she felt concern grip her. It was like he didn't know what to say to that kind of question. Miho realized, through the roaring currents of still images in her mind and witnessed aggression throughout the years, Naruto honestly didn’t know what to do with kindness.

None-too-subtle, he jerked his head around to Chōji, Shikamaru, and Kiba.

He was looking to them— to make sure she could be trusted.

“Well, freakin’ answer her already. If you don’t eat it, I will. An hell, don’t leave it to the Yamanaka! She wouldn’t want it to affect her girly figure!” Kiba grinned with a wave of his hand. Ino’s red-hot rage was crackling in the air and Miho sighed. Kiba acted like he didn’t notice. “Chōji’s mom always has good food!”

Miho smiled slightly, but decided to give Naruto an out if he wanted. “If you don’t want it, that’s seriously—”

"Y-Yeah! Hell yeah, I do!" The blond shouted, pumping his fist. "That'd be awesome! I’m Uzumaki Naruto and I definitely want to eat your food!"

“Cool!” Miho nodded.

“Just you wait, dog breath.” Ino threatened. “You’ll see what this girly figure can do. Then, you’ll get your life together.”

Ino turned on her heel and marched toward the shade where their lunches sat. Naruto hesitated and Miho sent him a long-suffering grin. “C’mon. She’s not the patient sort and now she’s riled.”

“Just…” Miho stopped at Kiba’s loud voice, looking back. “Just bring it all over here.”

Over there?

But she wanted Chōji to have—

“Troublesome.” She didn’t miss Shikamaru’s half-smile or the way he actually shifted over in the shade of the tree. The movement wasn’t necessary, but it was pointed. And it was about as effusive of a gesture that he could possibly make. Miho was thrown a bit off-kilter by it. “Hurry up already.” Chōji absently patted his friend’s shoulder, beaming.

“I’ll help!”

A grin pulled at her lips.

It’d been three weeks. Three weeks since Ino had become her only ally, her friend. Every so often, Miho regretted letting Ino in as she did. Ino would never live without the threat of war now. She’d never live without the foreknowledge. Miho wondered if she should have just lied, said it was all made-up nightmares. But the selfish part of her…wanted someone else to know. The selfish part of her was glad Ino knew, saw it with her own ‘eyes.’

Three weeks since everything started cascading.

More and more images, knowledges, and stories.

She recalled more and more, things that she would never tell Ino unless she had to.

The Kyuubi Attack. Naruto’s parents. Obito and his sharingan. The kids from Amegakure. The death of the Third Hokage. The attack on Konoha. Gaara of the Sand and the eventual Kazekage. These things were flashes, plot points. There was so much more she knew was there. Things that she didn’t want to remember, but things that she needed to remember.

Each a domino in a hundred dominoes, tipping from one thing to the next.

She could visualize it.

And the end result was always the same— an explosion.

Miho was jerked awake by the alarm and her heart stuttered into her throat. Hurriedly, she threw her legs over the side of her bed, stumbling for her door. When she threw it open, Chōji did the same across the hall. Their father appeared at the end of the hallway a scant second later, eyes sharp and brows drawn. Fear lurches through her as she hurried to Chōji’s side.

“Ayumi, lockdown. I’ll seal it up.”

Her eyes connected with her father’s for a single moment before he thundered down hall and around the corner. Miho’s entire body ached and she reached for Chōji’s hand. Her mother appeared then, pulling her robe over her chest as she moved. Determination and barely-wrangled fear was heavy in every step.

“Both of you, come with me.”

She moved in front of her brother, who fell into step behind her, and she kept a firm grip on his hand. If her father was sealing the estate, then that meant something utterly terrifying had happened. The wailing siren stopped.

Her mother went still for a moment as the beeps signaled.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Level Five.

Level Five was the worst-case scenario short of an evacuation. It was a shelter-in-place warning. When they arrived to the warded archive room at the back of the house, two of her cousins were already there waiting. Chihiro and Maruten nodded respectfully toward her mother, ushering them inside.

“Any idea what’s happening?”

“Not a clue,” Chihiro confessed with a tense expression. “It’s jonin and up.”

High security clearance. Miho looked over to her brother, who was watching with wide eyes. Swallowing down her anxiety, Miho moved to him again, taking his hands. “It’s alright.” He probably didn’t notice how she positioned herself in the room, but one glance at her cousin told her that the action didn’t go unnoted.

Chihiro nodded, returning her focus to outside the warded room.

It was hours before the all-clear was sounded. By then, the sun had already begun to rise. The faint singing of birds could be heard through the stillness of the Akimichi estate.

Their mother sighed, rubbing her face and eyes with barely concealed weariness. After a long moment, she pushed herself up from the archive table. Chihiro and Maruten appeared in the doorway, removing the seals that secured the panic room.

Miho caught sight of Maruten’s ashen face. Usually, his jowls and cheeks were a bright red and permanently blushed below his purple clan markings. That blush was gone. He gestured for their mother to approach, a look telling Miho and Chōji to stay where they were.

A few whispered words and Miho watched as the strength seemed to go out of her mother’s legs. Miho’d only just started forward when her mother caught herself on the doorway.

Her mother’s shoulders were shaking. There were tears in Maruten’s eyes. Terrified at the possibilities, Miho looked to Chihiro.

The woman stepped past the Akimichi matriarch and smiled sadly. “Your father’s okay. It’s not that.”

Relieved, Miho fell onto the bench beside Chōji, who was sniffling. With his big heart, she wasn’t sure if he was crying because their family was crying or out of relief to hear their Papa was safe. Chihiro lowered herself to kneel beside Chōji, speaking quiet reassurances to him while rubbing his back.

“Do they know…who did it?”

Miho’s attention snapped back to the doorway.

Maruten pulled in a large breath, making his large chest seem even larger. When he exhaled, every single bit of his strength seemed to leave him. The tears were no longer restrained and they fell down over his cheeks. Miho edged toward the door bit by bit. “Doesn’t make any sense. I…I knew him. I-I’ve known him since we— This doesn’t…” His head lowered and he stared at nothing. “Itachi wouldn’t do this.”

Itachi.

Uchiha Itachi.

The bile is in Miho’s throat before she can stop it. Gagging, she stumbled over to the corner of the archive, between age-old bookcases. She had just enough presence of mind to aim for a clearing in the floor. There’s a hand at her back in an instant and Chōji’s frightened yelp in the background. Miho could hear every sound, every shift of feet on the ground.

A cold sweat broke over her.

It was the police force first, wasn’t it?

Parents kneeling, waiting for death.

When her mother later asked why she got sick, Miho lied.

“The nerves,” she said. “I w-was w-w-worried about Papa.”

An entire clan…gone.

She’d seen it. On a sunny afternoon two weeks before, when a military police officer stopped to speak with her father while she and Chōji munched on takoyaki, she saw the fan on his shoulder. She’d seen flashes of red, two bodies on the floor in pools of blood, and the scream of a child. Crows. Chōji had asked her if she was choking.

She’d shoved the images aside, told him she was fine. Everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

But she’d seen it.

And she did nothing.

Chapter Text

The air was cold and sharp, scraping the bottom of her lungs like a barrage of senbon. She could barely breathe. Her fingertips tingled and she couldn't feel her toes anymore. Her chest felt as if it were vibrating. A wild, rampant, and nervous sort of energy trapped there. If she were standing still, she would be trembling.

Her feet thundered against the ground, hitting the familiar dirt of the training field. There was an odd sort of thickness in the air, warm and thick. She was wading through it, sweat coating her face, on her upper lip and down the sides of her throat. Her usual brown t-shirt was drenched, sopping.

Her hair was wet and matted to the sides of her face down her neck. Hers was a clumsy sort of trot, feet barely lifted from the ground as she continued to move.

“Miho.”

Lee. She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes forward as she moved.

It was twilight, the sun just past the horizon. The shade of the mountain and trees made it cooler. Hours. Miho lost count of her laps around two hundred five. She’d beat her record. She felt like she was going to die, but she beat her record. That had to count for something. That had to be a step in the right direction. It was an accomplishment, right?

“You need to rest.”

Her feet got caught up underneath her just a half a lap later. Her eyes squeezed shut, preparing to meet the hard earth once more. For the fourth or fifth time in as many hours. Each time, the fall was shattering. Each time, she clawed her way back up. The falls were punishment and they hurt, but she had to be stronger.

She was caught by the arm and jerked upright. Lee smiled, eyes carefully looking her over. For a moment, his attention lingered on her scraped knees. Finally, he nodded his head, jerking it to the right to signal that they should keep moving. "Focus on your feet hitting the ground. Just one foot at a time, Miho! One foot at a time! Let's go!"

Every step she took felt like a new miracle unfolding.

It was everything she could do to keep moving, just to keep moving. Her body was telling her to stop.

Everything within her, every fiber, was calling for her to quit, to give it up.

Still, she kept moving, battling through every forward step. She could make it.

Because this was nothing.

Nothing.

This was nothing compared to the pain those people had suffered. This was nothing compared to what was coming.

Even as she thought these things, her legs started to give out. Her right leg failed first and she tried to correct with her left, which lost its strength under her weight. A moment later, she collapsed. Lee only just managed to grab her before she struck the earth, rolling her to her back.

Miho breathed, heaving in as much oxygen as she could as she stared blearily up at the treetops.

If tears were blurring her vision, then she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Stay here.” Lee said. “Don’t move. Rest.”

She closed her eyes, listening as Lee set to his katas. One strike, two against the nearby stump. His kicks were harder than usual.

Ino was going to skin her alive if she found out. Luckily, Lee and Ino never crossed paths. But the moment they did was the moment that Miho knew she was doomed. Both were powerful personalities and both seemed fully capable of putting Miho in her place. Lee operated through guilt, or “motivation.” Ino worked through guilt, or “annoyance.” Either way, Miho never stood a chance.

When Lee lay on the ground next to her nearly an hour later when the sun was gone and the stars were overhead, he was quiet.

“Lee, I feel guilty for something I couldn’t change.”

He hummed, obviously hearing the emotions in the trembling of her voice. His right hand gripped her left as they lay in the grass. “Why couldn’t you change it?”

“I’m seven. I’m…nothing.”

“You won’t always be seven. And you’re not nothing.” He was quiet for a long while, but then he tightened his hold on her hand. “I know what you mean though. We are not powerful enough yet. Make yourself into something more. That way, when you need to change something in the future, you can’t say that you’re nothing.”

Rolling over onto her side to face him, Miho propped herself up on one arm. “Even then, I might not be powerful enough.”

Lee mirrored the movement, staring at her in the dim light from the nearby streetlamps. It always startled her how Lee could look at a person and seem like he saw the very deepest part of them. “We try. If it is not enough, then we just keep trying.” Pursing his lips, he looked over her tear-wet face. “I will not ask you what happened. But I am here if you need me. Always.”

“I—”

“However, you must not train like this again. How long has it been since you ate?”

“Two hours.”

Lee startled upright, eyes going impossibly wider. “Two hours? Oh, my dear friend!” He scrambled to his knees and hooked an arm under her. “You must feel weak! Hold on! Let’s get you some food! You must be starving! Let’s go! Come on!” With seemingly little effort, he hauled Miho to her feet with absolutely no help from her. He threw an arm under her shoulders.

Miho let herself be manhandled away from the training field. Her legs felt like jelly, burning and tingling. She’d beaten her endurance record. Soon, she’d add chakra into her strength training when she began Akimichi Clan training after the New Year. Chakra training was first, then…Then, she really would make progress. Until that happened— Lee steered her toward a street stall for takoyaki.

“Lee, seriously, this—”

“If you want to change things in the future, then you have to eat now. You have to eat! Let us go!”

When she was little, her father used to tell her and her brother a story. He set Chōji on one knee and her on the other. She could remember the beat of the taiko drums from the autumn festival outside of the estate’s main gates.

“Inside each and every shinobi and kunoichi, there is a battle raging. Two ninja battle for supremacy. One of those ninja is strength, courage, goodness, faith, and hope.” He’d looked out upon the gathered Akimichi, gesturing outward. Miho remembered following his gesture with her eyes. “The other ninja is disappointment, fear, anger, disloyalty, hate, and despair.”

"Which ninja will win, Pa? The bad ninja or the good ninja?" Chōji had asked.

Her father had run a meaty hand over her black curls and he smiled broadly. He reached over and patted Chōji's cheek with fondness. There was a rumbling chuckle and stood from the ledge of the en, moving to kneel in front of her and her brother. Miho could remember his voice rising over the drums. She could still remember his answer even as Lee shouted his encouragements from her side.

"The one you feed."

Lee scooted a plate of takoyaki toward her. “Eat up.” His jaw was tensed and Miho dipped forward to get a better look at his face. He held her eyes for a long moment. He looked worried, concerned, and just a bit frightened. “Do not become so consumed that you do not eat again. I…I could not bear it.”

Miho dreamed of the wreck that night. Screaming metal and winds. She could feel rain rushing in through the broken windows. Her foot was wedged against the gas pedal, revving the engine as the tires spun overhead. For a few seconds, it seemed like the world was silent. Then, it wasn’t.

The wind lashed dirt and debris against the car. The Jeep shifted and she screamed. There was blood in her nose and her head was pounding. She grew colder as the winds drew away until there was nothing but silence and the radio.

          Damn the dark.

          Damn the light.

And she prayed. That her students would have good lives—because they were all so smart and so important and so needed. That her grandmother would be okay— because she’d lost everyone and still kept living, even if she was tired of it. That her mother would be okay— because her mother, more than anyone, deserved happiness and joy, not the grief she was constantly victim to. There was no way she would make it out of that wreck alive. She tried though. Fought it as long as she could manage.

Until she couldn’t.

There and then, she lived her life well. She didn’t have any regrets, except the people she left behind. She worked hard, overcame her own difficulties, found friends, lost them, learned and learned and learned and then passed that knowledge on to the next generation. She passed stories down to her students. Some took them with rolling eyes or exasperated glances at their phones. Others though…

“We’re gonna take these stories you trusted us with and we’re gonna do something with ‘em.”

Miho’s eyes opened and she lay on her bed. Quickly, she turned to bury her face in her pillow to let out a sob. As much as Miho valued knowledge, this was knowledge she wished she didn’t have. Remembering their faces, her own face, the memories of that other life. She shuddered and grasped the edges of her pillow for dear life.

A second life. She didn’t want it to be lost to what ifs and if onlys. She didn’t want to waste it. A whole life, every chance to make a difference, to change the story. Every chance to write her own as well.

But dang if she wasn’t exhausted already.

“Little Miho, dumpling, come here.” Uncle Chojiro called as Miho arrived home from another day at the Academy. When she glanced up from the worn moss-outlined stone path, she could see two of the Clan Elders lounging on the en of the ceremonial complex. Elder Chojiro held out a hand, inviting her to join them. Beside him, Elder Ayumu set aside her beadwork. She’d seen Elder Ayumu earlier in the week for her weekly weigh-in and check-up. The woman smiled, patting her arm with knobbed fingers.

“You look a bit out of sorts, Little Miho.”

Settling between her Great Aunt ang Great Uncle, Miho grinned when Elder Ayumu threaded her time-gnarled hands through her hair. There was nothing she loved more than having her hair played with. “I am just tired, Elders.”

“Tired, hm? From long training sessions, surely?” Elder Ayumu’s dark timber was comforting and a bit teasing. Miho smiled a bit more, seeing the mirth in Elder Chojiro’s hazel eyes. He always seemed to be happy. Her father called him a ‘jolly goof of an old man’ and Miho couldn’t think of a better description. “Let me braid your hair, sweet bun. You can tell us about your training.”

Her grandmother and grandfather passed away long before Miho was born. Elders Ayumu and Chojiro were as close to grandparents as she could get. The gentle way that Great Aunt Ayumu pulled her curls into patterns and the easy humor of Great Uncle Chojiro made her relax for the first time in weeks. The Academy was full of reminders— empty seats and too many ways she could screw up.

But Miho was trying.

“I’m improving my endurance first. I won’t be able to do anything well if I don’t have the energy to practice it a lot.”

Clan-based training hadn’t started yet for either her or Chōji, but Miho knew it was coming soon as the New Year approached. Another three months until then. That gave her just enough time to prepare for weight training. Other Akimichi that had her build before did better with endurance and strength-based training. She’d read it in an Akimichi training manual from the first generation of Konoha-loyal Akimichi.

“My caloric limitations mean that I have to have even greater endurance, right?”

There was a smile in Elder Ayumu’s voice scratchy voice. “You have sorted that one well.” She hummed, finishing one plait along the left side of her head. Miho tilted her head to the right as prompted. It was only after Elder Ayumu finished the second plait that she stopped. “You should be able to maintain a minimum weight necessary for the Spinach and Curry Pills.”

Miho spun, eyes wide. The old woman swatted her shoulder.

“Stay still! I am not done with your hair.”

“I can use the techniques?”

“That is not what I said, sweet bun.”

Confused, Miho looked to Elder Chojiro for a clearer answer. A gnarled hand turned her back around so that her hair was accessible. Seeming sympathetic, her uncle shrugged. He raised his pipe to his lips as he watched the exchange with some amused exasperation.

“The Three Colored Pills are not tied to our techniques. They are a supplement boosting our power through our body fat. Your build does not allow for heavy-weight clan techniques within healthy limitations, but you are maintaining a good weight for the Spinach and Curry Pills. If you maintain this body fat percentage— around 35% or so— then you can manage the first two pills. The red Chili Pepper pill can only be used with 50% body fat or higher. You cannot achieve that while healthy.”

Something loosened in Miho’s chest.

It felt like a victory, even if it was just access to the first two pills. Those two pills could make all the difference.

It was something.

It was something after weeks feeling as if everything was stalled.

Elder Ayumu started on a third plait down the center of her head. “Your father will begin training Little Chōji in the New Year. He will inherit all of the Akimichi ninjutsus and taijutsus. It will take him much time and we do know his mind. Chōji will want you to learn as well. However, though you cannot do the most fat-dependent techniques, you can uptake two major components of our clan training. And then, of course, one for which you seem destined.”

“Destined? Destined, how?”

“You are speaking too mysteriously, Ayumu.”

Miho turned. This time, she didn’t earn a smack on the shoulder. Approaching from the rock garden was Great Uncle Torifu. He limped along, a majority of his weight resting on his steel cane. Jumping up, Miho sank into a bow. That action did earn her a squawk from Elder Ayumu, who grabbed the sleeve of Miho’s yukata to jerk her back into place again. “Good evening, Great Elder Torifu!”

Chuckling, he waved a arthritis-bent hand as if to tell her to relax. His attention cut to Chojiro, who smirked around his pipe. Great Elder Torifu was the oldest living member of the clan and was one of the first Akimichi to serve in the Elite Guard. Miho had only ever spoken to him a handful of times as he often travelled to the capital in service to the Daimyo. His strength was legendary. Her father told stories about him at bedtime, about how he lifted an entire mountain once to save a town from flooding and how he took out an entire platoon in the Second Great Shinobi War. Iwagakure still had him listed as “Flee On Sight” at seventy-two.

“Three hundred laps in an hour. Two hundred push-ups in an hour. One hundred and fifty-two pull-ups in an hour.”

Her muscles seized, breath catching in her throat.

“Able to lift your own body weight.”

She had only just been able to achieve one hundred pull ups. With Lee’s endless encouragement and Ino’s reinforcement (see: threatening). That meant he had been watching her training session that weekend. It was the only time she’d managed to beat her record.

“At seven years old,” Elder Ayumu added with a smile.

“I respect that.”

Miho pulled in a breath. “You— You’ve seen me…You’ve seen me training with Lee?”

Elder Chojiro puffed his pipe. “And with the Yamanaka heiress.”

“Of course.” Uncle Torifu responded, mild as milk. “You are the next generation of our clan. You and Chōji will carry on our legacy. We all know your attributes, your skills. I am impressed with your…tenacity.” Miho felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. When she’d been told she couldn’t do the clan techniques, she hadn’t expected anything more. “I am an old man, Little Miho. These two old cows are also senile.”

Uncle Chojiro nearly shrieked out a protest before his wife smacked the back of his head. Miho swallowed down a laugh.

“Bōjutsu.” Elder Torifu stepped forward, leaning on his cane. His eyes were narrowed, analyzing her reactions. “The bō is a weapon that requires dedication. It is not merely a stick to swing around. It requires strength to be effective.” Miho stared up at him, barely breathing with the gravity of his words. “I want to pass our bō techniques to you.”

“But Chōji—”

“Has no interest in weapons. If he wishes to take up the bō in the future, then this will be just as well. You will have someone to spar with.” Elder Ayumu rested a hand on Miho’s shoulder. “We have cleared our discussion about this with your father. Why is it you think we are sitting out here, waiting for you to return home, sweet bun?”

“Think on it, Little Miho.” Elder Torifu smiled. “This is not an easy decision. I am a tough teacher, one of the toughest. There are former students that can attest to this. You’ll have to work hard. Harder than you’ve worked thus far. It is very possible you will hate me by the time you master the bō. Think on this and let me know at the festival dinner this weekend.”

Miho nodded, snapping her mouth shut. She didn’t even realize she’d been gaping. “I— Thank you! I don’t need to think on it! I will do it!”

He chuckled, nodding. “Good, good. Now, Ayumu— You are still terrible at braids. What did you do to my poor student’s hair? Come here, child, and never let my daughter touch your hair again.”

The tenth of October was a day for celebration, honoring the sacrifice of the Fourth Hokage with festivities. Miho always thought the day was a spectacle— stalls upon stalls of succulent foods, games, and vendors. When she was little, she could see it all from her father’s shoulder. Chōji would hold three sticks of dango in each hand, smiling and laughing. When she’d steer her father toward the yakitori stalls, he’d boom a great laugh and buy her as much as she wanted.

It was a doubly exciting day for her— after all, it was her birthday.

After the afternoon and early evening festivities, the Akimichi always held their own festival dinner. A cookout in the Akimichi ceremonial complex, where foods were laid out. Each branch family came, supplied foods. Even her cousin Chihiro took up her mother’s tradition of bringing sweet buns. She could remember her father’s announcement one year:

“Today, we celebrate life. Let’s always remain grateful for it.”

It wasn’t until she was older that she noticed the sadness that underpinned the day. Every so often, when she was littler, she could see tears in her father’s eyes. Or sadness in the yakitori stall owner’s eyes. Occasionally, she felt this tension in the air that didn’t fit with the joyous excitement of a festival.

It wasn’t until the memories worked their way into her consciousness that she understood why.

The tenth of October was a day of mourning wrapped in a celebration.

Miho stared at herself in the brown yukata and burgundy obi, trying to reconcile the things she knew with the things she remembered. This festival celebrated the defeat of the Nine-Tailed Fox and mourned the Fourth Hokage and all those that died in the attack. This festival was on her birthday, which meant that she was born the day of the Kyuubi attack.

It had never really seemed all that strange before.

Something clicked.

Something clicked that should have clicked much sooner. Miho did the math in her head, tracing the curls as they trailed past her shoulder. For once, they were tamed into submission by her mother.

Her mother.

Her mother, who’d laid out her new outfit with such care before Miho had even awakened. Her mother, who was cooking up all of her favorite dishes.

For her birthday.

Chōji turned eight in May.

Five months, give or take a few days.

Five months.

Miho felt as if the wind was knocked out of her, but she didn’t quite believe where her thoughts were taking her. Because there were too many potential answers. Too many explanations. Her mother could have gotten pregnant immediately after childbirth. She could have been premature.

Yes, that was possible.

Right?

“Woah! Miho, you look pretty!”

Chōji’s smile was so large that his eyes were squeezed shut by his cheeks. He was in the doorway to her room, a paper in his hands. He was done-up too, in a button-up white shirt with a clan-red bowtie. Miho sank to the bed and pulled on her shoes, taking the paper he handed to her.

“It’s your favorite flower. Ino told me. I got you something else too, but it’s for the dinner.” He grinned, settling onto the edge of her bed with her.

Miho looked at the watercolor sketch, slightly flabbergasted that her brother’s drawing skills had come so far. Then again, he and Shikamaru went to their hiding places every day. Chōji drew nearly every other day.

The thick ruffles of the peony were a pale pink. It was clear that the drawing took hours to finish, each color blended carefully into the next. She could see fingerprints— her brother’s fingerprints— in the watercolors.

“Thank you, Chōji.” She stood and moved to tack the drawing onto the wall above her desk.

“Mom’s got all the good stuff downstairs. Then we get to go to the festival!” His eyes lit up even more, practically glistening with the promise of good festival food. “Shikamaru was complaining about coming tonight. Said parties are a drag.” Chōji laughed fondly. Miho rolled her eyes. “He just doesn’t know how we party.”

“I asked Aunt Emiko to make pudding since Ino’s coming. She’ll probably cry.”

And crying wasn’t really Ino’s thing.

But her friend really loved pudding.

Chōji smiled broadly again and Miho mirrored it, taking his hand. “Let’s get today started!”

The next several hours were a blur of food, family, and the chaos of the festival. As was traditional, her father hauled Miho and Chōji onto his shoulders as they waded out into the crowds. Many of the stalls were owned by the Akimichi clan and many others got their supplies from Akimichi suppliers. Every so often, her father would point out a particular food and note its origin.

“The radishes at this stall were grown at an Akimichi farm south of here.” Papa informed. Chōji munched happily on a stick of dango, nodding along to the orientation. It didn’t quite seem like Chōji had made the leap to why their father was pointing out the origin of every food.

“Papa, do you negotiate the trade deals between Konoha vendors and Akimichi suppliers?”

If her father stumbled beneath her, then she said nothing about it. He boomed a warm laugh. “That’s right, Miho! That’s right! I have final say, but it is really a committee led by Akimichi Chiasa that manages the day-to-day.” He jostled the shoulder she was perched on, grinning up at her with such energy that his eyes creased shut. “How did you figure that one out, little lady?”

‘Little lady’ was a new nickname. Miho scrunched her nose at it. “I read a book about Akimichi trade deals. Like how Elder Torifu handles all Akimichi suppliers to the capital. The Daimyo has held a supplier contract with our family for centuries.”

It was, after all, how their family rose to prominence.

“My smart girl. Very good, Miho!”

He set Miho and Chōji down by a game stall, moving to speak with Yamanaka Inoichi and Nara Shikaku at a nearby grill. Miho took Chōji’s hand, guiding him to where Shikamaru was hiding. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but to laugh at his put-upon expression. Chōji sank onto the ground next to his friend, patting his shoulder in comfort.

Miho stayed standing, leaning against the tree.

“Tired already, Shikamaru?”

He grunted.

“Bet I could wake you up with a food pun.”

He groaned.

Chōji smiled around a dango stick.

“It’s a good one. Just thought of it this morning.” Pausing for a bit of gravitas, Miho shook out her arms and affected the air of Elder Chojiro after maybe-too-much sake at a family dinner. “What did the carrot say to cheer you on?” A pause. Shikamaru might’ve cursed under his breath. “I’m rooting for you.” Without waiting for their laughter, Miho giggled, rolling to the side a bit on the bark. “I’m rooting for you!”

“What a drag. This is too much.” He sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes to protect him from the sun filtering through the leaves. It was scantly past four. Still a few hours to go. “And a party after this? An after party? Seriously?” Miho could feel the accusation. After all, it was definitely her fault.

She only shrugged, keeping an eye out for Ino in the crowds. Ino hated her jokes. She’d be fun to rile.

If her father was here, then she had—

A familiar head of blond hair darted into an alleyway behind one of the karaage stands.

Miho watched him disappear into the shadows.

Then, with dread that tore at her stomach, she watched as two men and a woman followed after him.

The tenth of October.

She ran. She ran before she even realized she was running. Her heart was pounding with frightening force as she threw herself past the karaage stall into the alleyway. Her nice sandals slipped in the mud and Miho caught herself before she careened into the bricks. The passage intersected with another alley and when she turned the corner, Miho skidded to a stop.

Naruto— too bright, too kind, too loud Naruto— was on the ground, holding his stomach. There were no tears on his cheeks from what she could see about ten paces away. He was in pain though, eyes squeezed shut.

“— showing your damn face here, you demon!” The shinobi reared back his leg.

Miho moved.

Not fast enough. Nowhere near fast enough. The kick landed and Naruto cried out and Miho was kneeling beside him a second later. Her hands fluttered at his face and shoulders. “Naruto? Naruto, are you—”

“ARE YOU STUPID? GET AWAY FROM THAT THING!”

A powerful arm locked around her waist, hauling her back and away. The panic was all-consuming, fear tearing through all of her senses. She was held aloft, feet off the ground, pinned to an attacker’s chest. Her eyes went to Naruto again. His wide eyes were staring up at her. Terror.

And, God, it tore her apart.

Because today was his birthday.

Why is he outside today? Why—

Miho struggled, grabbing at the man’s arms to wrench them away. She knew taijutsu, but nothing that would work against a chunin. Nothing that would work against someone so much bigger than— Miho saw that the woman was approaching Naruto now, hands fisted.

“NO!”

Jerking her head back, she felt it snap the man’s nose. He dropped her like a sack of potatoes and Miho felt her entire spine jar with the impact. Her right knee took a lot of the force. Before she could even recognize the pain, she scrambled across the filthy alleyway. Her pretty yukata was ruined with mud and trash water.

She placed herself in front of Naruto.

“Stop! Stop.”

Miho held out her right hand, using the other to feel for her friend. She was twice his size, covering him completely. Blocking him completely. The message was clear. They’d have to go through her first. She could feel Naruto gripping the sleeve of her yukata. His hand was shaking. He was shaking. 

All at once, the three attackers dropped. Like their strings had been cut. A single figure stood in their place, a mask covering his face.

ANBU.

What little color was in Miho’s face faded away. She felt pale. ANBU. ANBU terrified her. The masks, the anonymity. Still, she stared up at the Dog mask and silver hair.

And she tried desperately to not know who was behind that mask.

But she knew.

And knowing was dangerous.

“Th-Thank you.” The tremble in her voice made her realize that her vision was growing blurry. Turning and rising to her knees, Miho looked at Naruto. Her right knee smarted under the pressure, but she ignored it. “Are you okay? They kicked you. They—They—” Leaning down, she pressed a hand to his right side while he continued to stare.

He grimaced at the pressure to his ribs but otherwise didn’t react, never once taking his eyes off her.

Not reacting…

Dissociation?

Panic attack?

Then, Miho gasped as he collided into her, knocking her back onto her tail. Scrambling to stay upright, Miho sighed in relief when a leg pressed up against her back. The ANBU had steadied her with his shin.

Naruto was sobbing. Sobbing with so much pain and fear and hurt and relief that Miho felt her own anxiety and panic reach a breaking point. Holding on tight, Miho pressed her forehead into his shoulder and just cried with him. What else could she do?

It was less than a minute later that she heard her father’s voice rise above the din of the festival.

“MIHO! MIHO!”

Raising her head, Miho turned to see him skid into the alleyway. Gone was the man who was at-ease and laid-back at the festival.

This was the legendary Akimichi Chōza of the internationally-feared Ino-Shika-Cho.

She cradled Naruto, raising her head more to watch her father approach.

She knew— goodness, did she know— that this could go terribly. Her father could blame Naruto for this. He could shove him away, curse him. To her mind, the mind that knew too much (way too much), there were so many people that failed Naruto, did him wrong. Her father was one of them.

Her grip on the blond tightened, dirty knuckles clenched into his shirt. Despite knowing that she should trust her father, her eyes narrowed at his approach.

Naruto didn’t deserve this.

She’d avoided him.

Unconsciously or consciously.

Consciously.

Never more than meals at school or a casual interference in bullying.

Never anything more.

Though she knew better…

because she was scared.

As her father approached, his hands rising palm-up in a sign for peace and his anger hidden behind cool assessment, and as his teammates appeared behind him, taking in the scene with practiced detachment, Miho felt her heart sputter in her chest.

She hadn’t done anything to change the story of the Uchihas. There wasn’t much she could do if she did try, she recognized weeks after the Massacre.

“The Uchiha Downfall,” they called it. Miho had scoffed at that title when no one was around to hear her. Whoever wins the battle writes the story, right? When the village had them killed, the village determined the narrative. “Uchiha Massacre” just didn’t sound good for business.

She couldn’t change their story.

But Naruto…

Naruto’s story…

Did it have to be so terrible? How much of a tragic backstory did a character have to have?

Miho stiffened at her own thoughts, tears rising into her eyes once more.

This wasn’t a story though.

The shaking boy in her arms— terrified, crying, innocent— was not a character.

Swallowing, Miho felt something slide into place.

When her father arrived to tower over her and Naruto, she gritted her teeth and raised her eyes to him. She tried to impress all of her emotions and convictions into a single look. All of them. Then, she sighed, patting Naruto’s head as she did Chōji’s whenever he was upset. “Father, I—”

Just as she started to speak, her father knelt and drew her— and Naruto along with her— into his arms. Miho felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. Naruto yelped and Miho immediately released him, scared that the added pressure had hurt his ribs. Her father let go as well, settling on his haunches. “I was so worried. Miho, what happened?”

Miho opened her mouth, but it was the ANBU that answered.

That nameless silver-haired ANBU officer.

“The girl stopped the attackers.”

“These three are a shame to the uniform,” Nara Shikaku spoke up. He looked down at one of the collapsed men, nudging his face with his boot. “This one works at the missions desk. That woman works in engineering.” His eyes narrowed as he looked to the ANBU again. “Take them to holding. I will report to the Hokage now.”

“I— I’m sorry.” All eyes turned to Naruto, whose eyes were still wide and slightly anxious. His hands were winding in his capris. “I thought that—”

“These three won’t bother you again, kid.”

The ANBU and the three bodies disappeared and Miho wasn’t quite sure how. Meanwhile, Yamanaka Inoichi lowered himself to the ground beside Naruto. He kept both hands open and raised. “Hey, squirt, where were you hit?”

Naruto hesitated, looking to Miho for guidance.

“It’s okay. He’s Ino’s father.”

Inoichi puffed up a bit in pride. “That’s right! Ino’s told me about how energetic and positive you are. You are Uzumaki Naruto, right?”

Miho tried not to stiffen when he lowered a hand to press against Naruto’s right side. Seemingly to distract her, her father settled her on his lap and brushed he hair from her face. It was only then that the adrenaline started to truly reside. The pain in her knee grew a bit more pronounced, but she still pushed it aside. It didn’t matter at the moment.

“Papa— I—” He smiled, patting a big hand on his side of her face. She shook, glancing over to Naruto every so often until she felt comfortable enough to focus on anything else.

“I am so glad you’re okay. You shouldn’t have gone alone. If you knew something was wrong, you should’ve told an adult.”

Trying not to let anger hit her senses, Miho shook her head. “I didn’t know what— I just followed Naruto. He’s my friend.” Feeling particularly vindictive, but knowing that it shouldn’t be directed at her father, Miho looked at the other two shinobi. His teammates. “Why did they attack him?”

There was the anger.

Because all of this was bullshit.

Every bit of it.

“Some people are just mean-spirited.” Inoichi said with conviction.

While true, Miho resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Nara Shikaku nodded, narrowed eyes still observing the scene. It was like he was trying to work through the situation in his head. After all, Naruto was alone at the festival on the anniversary of the Kyuubi attack. It was just about the least safe place Naruto could be. What happened to even get him there. Miho waited until his gaze fell on her before she looked away, focusing on her father again.

Time to take a risk.

“Papa, I want Naruto to come to dinner tonight. And to spend the night.”

The fear that flashed through her father’s eyes was gut-wrenching. And Miho felt her stomach turn. He glanced to his teammates. Shikaku shrugged after a moment, looking for all the world like he wanted to be done with everything. Inoichi finished healing Naruto’s side, letting out a long (tired) sigh.

Then, Miho caught Naruto’s eyes.

And no matter how much fear she saw in her father’s eyes— Naruto’s had him beat. It wasn’t fear from the attack or the strangers. (How could they be strangers? How dare they be strangers? Miho’s more mature mind questioned angrily.) It was fear of rejection.

She pushed herself out of her father’s arms and stepped forward, a bit unevenly since her leg smarted, holding out a hand to help Naruto up. He hesitated for a moment before taking it. Once he was standing, Miho made a show of dusting him off, though the mud was too enmeshed in the fabric to bat out. Frowning, she settled a hand on his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look.

“You’re okay.”

He hesitated before nodding, glancing down at her knee. “Miho, your leg!”

Worried about her when he was the one attacked.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Shrugging, she looked to her father.

Just as his mouth began to open, Chōji’s voice broke through the alley. He was huffing when he arrived to her side, looking over her dirty clothing and wide, frightened eyes. Shikamaru ambled to Naruto’s side with a deceptively laid-back gait, but his eyes were sharp and narrowed. He was clearly trying to piece together whatever happened.

Miho patted Chōji’s shoulder, keeping her attention on her father.

He stared down at her long the longest moment. Something else was in his eyes. Something Miho had seen before—like wistfulness or…grief. It disappeared as quickly as it had come and he nodded.

“Of course, he can come.”

Letting out a relieved breath, Miho turned to her father and collided with his legs in a fierce embrace. Her father’s strained laugh didn’t quite assuage her guilt for putting her father through some very clear emotional stress, but the hand gripping the back of her yukata again made that guilt weaker.

She was hauled up onto his shoulder and then he looked down to Naruto before lowering himself down to one knee again. Chōji and Shikamaru watched, both looking to Miho for answers. She shook her head and held on, watching her father’s arm outstretch. “Naruto, I’m Akimichi Chōza— Miho and Chōji’s Dad. Would you like to come stay with us for tonight? It’s Miho’s birthday and we’re throwing a party. If you want to come, climb up. I’ll carry you both to the house so you can get cleaned up.”

“C’mon, Naruto.” Miho smiled. “We’ll scrape just my name off the cake. It’s your birthday too. Let’s go.”

Her father stiffened under her, but Naruto’s eyes went wide and then teary. Then, at last, a nod and he hurried forward for her father to haul up.

When Naruto was on the other shoulder, Miho reached out and gripped his hand.

He hadn’t smiled yet, but Miho wasn’t going to let go until he did.

“Inoichi, can you get the boys?”

“No problem, Chōza. C’mon, guys. Let’s go grab Ino.”

Sarutobi Hiruzen tapped his pipe on the edge of the desk, looking every bit his age and every bit the God of Shinobi. It was a harsh balance between righteous anger and bereaved exhaustion. Sighing, he settled back in his chair and looked back at his Jonin Commander with barely maintained calm. “Am I to understand that Naruto was at the festival?”

Shikaku nodded and Hiruzen cursed.

“Hound.”

The ANBU Captain appeared, back straight and shoulders squared. “Sir.”

“Who was assigned to Naruto this evening?” The question was asked with the kind of serenity that usually preluded something far more dangerous. Lethal. It was a lethal sort of tone.

“Hawk.”

“Have Hawk brought to me immediately. Go.” Hound disappeared and the Third Hokage looked back at the Nara Clan Head. He raised his pipe and sucked in the toxins, holding them in his lungs for comfort before releasing the cloud. “I trust that Naruto is safe and has been returned to his apartment?”

Shikaku didn’t quite grimace— that would be too effusive for him. Instead, he sighed. “Uzumaki is safe however, he will be spending the night with the Akimichi Clan.” Hiruzen sat back, raising his brows as he waited for an explanation. The Akimichis were not the type to make some sort of political move. “Uzumaki’s attack was stopped by Akimichi Miho. She invited him to her birthday party and to spend the night at their estate.”

“Akimichi Miho…” Hiruzen worked through the connections before his eyes widened. “Chisato and Keisuke’s daughter?” The Third Hokage again tapped his pipe on the edge of the desk, working through the histories and implications. “Of course, Keisuke’s daughter would find Minato’s son. Seems destined.”

“Your orders?”

Hiruzen hummed, eyes narrowing a bit at the Nara. Though he knew Shikaku to be loyal to him, the Three Clans were also loyal to each other— nearly by blood bond. A wrong move might alienate the three fundamental clans of Konoha, further destabilizing the landscape. The Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi were very displeased with the treatment of the Uchiha. Tactical advantage.

“Cementing Naruto’s loyalties through ties is essential. If the Akimichi are kind to him, I see no reason to intercede.” The Nara nodded, though Hiruzen wondered if it was acceptance or relief. “Akimichi Miho…It will be interesting to see her grow. Perhaps her Will is the same as her father’s?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

Chapter Text

Miho saw it at the last second, jumping back as fast as she could, barely dodging the attack. Elder Torifu drew back the upper part of the staff, slamming it forward into Miho’s shoulder. She winced, but otherwise shook off the pain. The old man grinned, eyes closing in amusement.

“You are being reckless, child. Center yourself or you will fall. And you will fail.” He swept the staff toward her feet with such speed that she barely caught sight of the movement. She jumped, throwing herself out of the way and her breath caught.

In the next instant, she was on the ground—not quite sure how she got there. Overhead, a sparrow darted across the training yard into the nearby trees. She could feel the heat of the sand on her back.

Elder Torifu leaned over her, his bō acting as a cane. He blocked out the sun like an elderly, deadly eclipse. His expression was severe, the same expression she’d come to know from her teacher over the past four years. “You are unsteady. You need more muscle stability. The metal bō is swinging you. You will begin weight training next week.” His features softened and he held out a hand to help her up.

“Your speed is good, but not good enough. You will begin wearing weights next week as well.”

“Yes, Elder Torifu.”

He chuckled, raising his hands in the customary spar-ending signal. Miho mimicked, resting her right hand over her heart with a nod. Clucking his tongue, he made for the buffet at the end of the training grounds while Miho followed.

The buffet was full of high protein foods, prepared each morning and replenished throughout the day. Housed at one end of the training and sparring grounds, it was one of the main hubs for Akimichi ninja. Miho's head was patted at least three times by cousins they passed on their way to the plates.

“Your Lee graduated last week, did he not?”

“He did. He’s on Maito Gai’s team.” Miho waited until the old man shoveled some scrambled eggs onto his plate before doing the same. She added bacon and oats. They settled into the shade of a large oak nearby at a table affixed in the large roots. “He’s…changed a bit. But in a good way. He’s happier.”

“Having a goal will do that for a person.” Elder Torifu smiled. “Gai is a good role model for this. Goals can help us to have purpose in our growth.” He downed a whole carton of milk before gesturing toward her. “What is your goal, child? What do you aim for?”

Miho’d already thought of this— to an almost frightening extent for someone so young. She had to, didn’t she? With what was coming… “I want to protect the people I care about. That’s all.”

Elder Torifu nodded, chewing three pieces of bacon before he sat back and looked up at the light filtering through the oak leaves. “A good goal. It’s one that you will fail.” Miho jolted, breath catching. “We will lose that we care about, Miho. That is our reality.”

A wood thrush was singing nearby and Miho wanted to scream. Because she knew. She knew her teacher was right, but… “Reality is what we make it. I’m going to get so strong that I can force reality to change. I know it won’t always work, but I gotta try.” She looked back at the old Akimichi and forced a smile. “Losing people… It’s a fact of life, I know. I just—”

He clicked his tongue again, rolling his eyes. “I am not going to shame you for your determination, child. Change reality if you can, but do not destroy yourself if it doesn’t budge for you. Powerful as you may be, Fate is the one thing that is stronger than us Akimichi.” Elder Torifu eyed her for a long moment and Miho held his attention with her shoulders squared. “Eat up now. If you don’t, my daughter will have my head.”

“She’s upped my caloric intake by 1,000 calories.”

“You’re lucky it’s not more. Those morning ‘jogs’ of yours are keeping my dearest daughter on her toes.”

Miho felt a bit smug at that, tapping a hand to the rolls that spilled over the waist of her capris. “I think I’m maintaining well! Those cookies she’s got me on are awesome. They're keeping me steady on those runs."

“Yeah? Well, you wait until she shows up with some banana-infused oat apple protein monstrosities and then see what you say.” He scoffed around his last shovel of eggs.

“They’re better than chips.”

Elder Torifu looked absolutely affronted. “Take that back. I won’t let any student of mine speak blasphemy.”

Miho smiled with all the innocence she could muster.

He had been to that hospital far too many times.

First, when his mother passed into the next life. He had been no more than a toddler, still playing with a wooden kunai. She had carved that kunai herself from the wood of an old hardwood that had fallen on the clan property. From that young age onward, the hospital had rarely been a symbol of good tidings.

The next time he arrived at the hospital in a hurry, his teacher had been mortally wounded in a battle with Iwagakure. His sensei's body was so mangled that it still haunted his nightmares from time to time.

Blood and gore.

Chōza knew from late-night (drunken) talks that Shikaku was still suffering with the memory of their old teacher. Inoichi as well. They couldn't forget it.

Then, not too long after, his father succumbed to an illness within those walls.

Finally, his sister…his sister was lost and so many others on that fateful day the Kyuubi attacked.

Now, as he rushed through those doors, he was hurrying toward one of the only good things that came out of that nightmare building. Trying to remain as calm as possible, he strode toward the nurse station.

"Excuse me," he tried. The nurses continued about their tasks, paying him no heed. If there was one thing he learned from his sister, it was that he had to be more assertive if he was going to get anything done. "Excuse me." He approached one nurse in particular and blocked her path out of the station. Her eyes trailed up his enormous height and he plastered on a kind smile to ward of any panic she might have felt.

A picture of contrite demureness, she lowered her head in difference. "Sorry, Lord Akimichi. Oh! You're here about your daughter!"

"I was told that she was admitted. Is she alright?" Worry laced his tone and he didn't bother to hide it. "I'm unaware of the details. As soon as I arrived back from my mission, I was told she lost consciousness. My wife hasn't even been informed yet."

The nurse grabbed a clipboard and made a motion for him to follow behind, her eyes scanning the document that was sitting at the top of the pile. "Your daughter was admitted less than thirty minutes ago. Word has already been sent through the proper channels and she will have to stay the night for observation. We haven't had time to send word to your clan. Her condition was and is not dire."

"What happened?"

“An incident at the Academy, apparently.”

Rounding the corner, they arrived at the room farthest from the nurse station. Akimichi Chōza froze, breath catching in his throat. His large hands fisted at his sides. In his mind, he could recall walking into the same room only ten years prior.

Then, the world seemed so much darker.

Then, there had been screams cutting through the air and wails and pleading to whatever deity would listen for mercy.

Then, he had been identifying the body of his sister and collecting the daughter she had left behind.

This room…was the same room that he had lost Chisato in all those years ago.

This was the room in which Miho had been born, into a world filled with chaos.

Now, instead of the piteous wails of the victims, laughs jingled through the air like bells. He would recognize one of those laughs anywhere. It was more of a chuckle than anything else. Miho never possessed a hearty laugh like her brother. It was the mild chuckle of her father, of Keisuke, mannerisms that carried in her blood. Keisuke was in her, reborn into his little girl.

And it was upon hearing that laugh that Chōza found himself able to move again.

If the nurse noticed, she said nothing.

Her attention was instead focused on the chart she pulled from the box by the door.

"Your daughter came in with severe dehydration and an unhealthy blood pressure. Her unhealthy blood pressure hit both extremes. It bottomed-out en route from the school. She was also hyperpyrexic. That means that her body temperature far exceeded average." The nurse rubbed a hand on her forehead and sighed. "To be short, she overheated and overexerted herself. It caused a whole range of issues, which resulted in her loss of consciousness. The doctor can discuss the rest with you. Until then…" the woman gestured toward the room and the raucous laughter that came from inside. "Until then, see if you can get them all to calm down a bit."

Uncertain of who she could be referring to, Chōza stepped toward the door and let himself inside. The nurse disappeared down the hallway once again, off to make her rounds. What he saw inside the room was something that he never quite expected.

Miho was holding her sides as she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks and brows pulled together. Beside her on the bed was Yamanaka Ino, who was kneeling and pointing toward two mainstays in the Akimichi household (somehow, Miho seemed to have adopted them). Rock Lee was giving a pouting Naruto a thumbs-up, grinning like a lark. Naruto, for his part, was wailing and tearing at his hair, looking so desperate that Chōza almost laughed. Sitting by the bed with his head rested on the mattress was Nara Shikamaru. Closest to the door was Chōji, mouth open to eat a chip.

Chōza felt his breath catch.

The position of these children was frightening and humbling.

Ino was a close guard, situated closest to the one protected.

Shikamaru was blocking the window.

Lee and Naruto were distracting, drawing attention to themselves.

And Chōji was guarding the door.

What in the world happened?

Miho turned to him, laughter-teared eyes going wide. “Papa! You’re back!” Chōji echoed her, moving to hug his waist. For a moment Chōza tried not to realize how much taller his son was. Only ten and he was already to his hip. Miho stood even taller by a head. It would be some time yet before her brother caught up. In the periphery, Lee and Naruto stopped bickering.

“I finished the marathon, Papa.”

The marathon was this week? He frowned. Was that why his little girl was in the hospital? That didn’t make sense. She was training in heavy endurance. If Elder Ayumu was right, Miho was on track to become one of the best endurance-based ninja in the clan. She could do the marathon with little difficulty. He scrutinized her, eyes straying to Ino’s sour expression and Naruto’s obvious irritation.

“I wouldn’t have been able to finish without Naruto’s help.”

Naruto lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit if he had ever seen one. His grin was a little anxious and he waved her off with this free hand. "Aw, you did it on your own. I just helped you the last bit, ya know? No big deal." He chuckled a bit and Chōza saw Miho shake her head.

“You didn’t have to help me, Naruto. Not like you did.”

Ino settled a bit more, leaning back into the mattress beside Miho. Her arms crossed. “She’s right. It was pretty heroic.”

Naruto’s blush was particularly cute for a boy that rarely got flustered. Chōza decided to wait and see how that played out. Inoichi would be insufferable. At the thought, Chōza might’ve grinned. “Nah. Besides, Miho’s one of my good friends. I couldn’t leave her behind!”

“A beautiful display of friendship and loyalty, Naruto! It shines like the sun after a rainstorm. Alas, if I had been there, I would have helped shoulder the weight! Only then can we all reach our dreams!”

“Hell yeah, bushy-brows!” Naruto declared.

Both fell into a very loud dedication, shouting that their dreams were “just within reach” with clenched fists and victorious grins. Chōza ignored the flashbacks of Gai’s sparkly rants about friendship and love. True as they were. His attention skittered back to Miho, who was watching the pair’s rambunctious tirade with half-lidded eyes. Half-lidded, hopeful, caring and dedicated eyes. Ino was idly playing with his daughter’s matted curls.

Ino looked just like her father when he was forced to hide his anger. The same tick in her brow. The same stern fury in her eyes. Miho shot her friend a look and Ino’s eyes rolled. The two girls were having some kind of silent conversation. 

As if she could sense his attention on her, Miho looked up to him. In that moment, she seemed so small and fragile. Like when she was seven, asking him why three fully-grown shinobi attacked a helpless child. Like when she was nine and asked him if her cousin Chihiro was ever coming home, only to learn that the answer was 'no.' 

One day, she would be the ninja she had always wanted to be. At that moment though, she was nothing more than a little girl—his little girl—and she was exhausted from her hard work. Her thick fingers reached out and grasped his scarf, the brown one he always wore on recon missions. Ino leaned back so Miho would have easier access.

“What a drag. Just tell him already.”

Miho sighed, letting her head fall back into the pillows. Her fingers loosened and fell away. “You promised.”

“I didn’t.” Shikamaru retorted. And there was the sassy Nara tone he’d definitely learned from his father. The kid didn’t even lift his head, but he did look up by angling it a bit differently. “Teacher Mizuki made her run the marathon with—”

“No snacks.”

Chōza quickly tamped down the knee-jerk fury that came with those two words. “Excuse me?”

Chōji stepped away from the door, looking guiltily at his feet as he shuffled forward. His boy was obviously feeling that this was somehow his fault. “No snacks. Or…Or water.”

“What?”

“Teacher Mizuki is a jerk.” Ino supplied.

“Right! He let everyone else have water but Miho and…” Naruto stopped, blue eyes going impossibly wide. His attention shifted to Miho, who was watching whatever realization hit Naruto. “Well, shit.” Miho grimaced.

“Language,” Chōza said out of habit. “Tell me.”

All eyes turned to Shikamaru, who noticed the attention and deflated. “Why do I have to tell the story? I’m not the one in bed. I’m not her brother. I wasn’t even involved.”

“Not involved?” Ino sat up, taking a swipe at his ponytail. “You’re literally the one who noticed the whole thing from on-high or whatever.”

“Troublesome. You noticed too. You tell him.”

“I’ll start yelling. Do you really want me to start yelling?”

“She was running with me.” Naruto interjected. There was a lot of false bravado in his stance, hands firmly on his hips. “She was running with me because I wanted to skip school.”

“With us.” Chōji stepped forward to grip the rail at the end of the bed. “Naruto wanted to skip with us. We were watching the marathon from the top of the hill.”

Chōza tried to keep the disappointment from his face. He knew— Boy, did he know!— that Chōji, Shikamaru, Naruto, and Tsume’s son often cut class. It affected their scores and he’d already garnered a half-hearted promise from his son that it wouldn’t happen again. Peer pressure was powerful. Doubly so when the entire system seemed to ignore you and your needs. “You skipped the marathon?”

“Yes, sir.”

At least Chōji looked suitably ashamed. “We’ll talk more on that tonight. Continue.”

“She was running with Naruto. Teacher Mizuki said that Naruto couldn’t have water during the run. Miho couldn’t either. And she couldn’t stop for snacks.” Ino sat up further. “Because Mizuki is a jerk.” That seemed to be a theme.

Naruto looked devastated, much like he had all those years ago at the festival. Chōza clenched his teeth.

“Is all this true, Miho?”

Her head rolled back and forth, until she faced away from him. Her eyes focused on the window. She was trying to avoid a lie by keeping silent. Perhaps that is what she had been doing this whole time. If his suspicions were correct, his Miho had been dealing with some terrible things on her own for quite some time.

She and Chōji were forbidden from lying to him, but they were not explicitly forbidden from withholding the truth.

"It… wasn’t a big deal."

A lesser man would’ve winced at the uproar that statement caused. Ino screeched. Shikamaru actually sat upright. Chōji raced to his sister’s bed, eyes narrowed dangerously. Meanwhile, the two loudest people remained silent. Naruto looked away while Gai’s prodigy looked to his shoes.

"Lord Akimichi," Lee spoke up. Glancing over, he saw the boy practically at attention in the corner. "Since Miho began training with me, I have taken responsibility for her. She is an Honor Sister, one of blood, sweat, and tears. Miho does not want to cause trouble with the Academy. After today though, I cannot stay silent any longer."

"Lee!"

Honor Sister? Chōza nearly choked.

Rock Lee sent his daughter a look that stunned the hardened shinobi. It was a mix between the care of a brother, the protection of a leader, and the concern of a friend. His thick brows were pulled downward and his stance challenged Miho to stop him. This was the friend that his daughter had made, the one that she would develop the ultimate trust with.

Chōza watched in subdued awe.

Because, while he’d seen them training and once every-so-often for dinner, he’d never seen this side of their relationship.

It was far deeper than he ever imagined.

“Teacher Mizuki targets any students that associate with Naruto. They are given lower scores, set against unfortunate opponents, and are given handicaps in spars from which they cannot recover.” Lee stepped forward. Lee could only know all of this if he were told.“Miho was given an unearned detention just a few days ago.”

Chōza remembered that. She’d hit another student during lunch. He’d accepted it at face-value. After all, it wasn't the first fight that she'd finished. He told her to be careful of her strength. She’d nodded and accepted her home punishment without a word. She’d cleaned the entire storage unit out back with her brother sneaking in to help her out.

“Yeah, that whole thing was bullshit!” Naruto jumped in, looking a bit desperate. “Miho was defending me. She laid out that Naka-stupid-whatever like that.” He slammed one fist into an open palm and then winced. “But he hit me first!”

So, she’d been defending Naruto.

Again.

“Miho had to run today with no snacks as punishment.”

No snacks. No water.

“As punishment? In addition to the detention?”

Miho was obviously resigned, sighing as she palmed her forehead.

“Teacher Mizuki said she copped an attitude, but she didn’t!” Naruto threw out his hands. “The whole thing was bullshit.”

That earned nods from the children. Chōza felt his hackles rising, rage lapping at him like a thousand Aburame bugs roiling in his ears. Denying an Akimichi food...

“Said that people that mouth-off don’t get water or snacks.”

“I would’ve made it, but I tripped on the last lap.”

“Seriously… that’s not what this is about, Miho!” Ino was on her feet now. Her frustration and anger turned on her bedridden friend. Miho somehow remained completely calm, obviously used to Ino’s flare-up temper. “No one cares if you finished or didn’t finish the marathon. It’s a waste of time anyway. We care that a stupid teacher decided to target you and make you suffer through stuff you literally need to survive.” With pinpoint accuracy, she nailed Naruto down with a glare. “You’re not at fault here either. Get it through your thick skull!”

“I—”

“Stop.” Chōji’s voice cut through the quickly erupting argument. To Chōza’s surprise, the kids quietened. His son’s grip on the bed rail was so tight that his knuckles were white and the metal was giving way a bit. His son didn’t notice. “I skipped the marathon. I should’ve been there. I should’ve been there for her. I’m her brother.”

“No arguing that.” Ino shot back.

Miho lightly tapped Ino’s hand, shaking her head a bit. “Arguing like this doesn’t accomplish anything.” Her eyes flickered up to him. “Please don’t go after him, Papa.”

His daughter must’ve sensed something because her attention immediately turned to Naruto, who had saddled up behind Shikamaru’s chair.

“Don’t. you. dare.”

Chōza was at a loss.

“Justice doesn’t involve putting snakes in his bed, Naruto.”

“Never said anything about snakes. Where’d you get that idea? It is a good idea though!”

“Naruto…”

“Dye his hair green or something instead. Make it permanent.”

“Don’t help him, Ino. Geez.”

“Troublesome. Just put mousetraps around his office and hide them with a genjutsu.”

“Revenge is not necessary, beautiful friends. Our revenge should be Miho and Naruto's success."

“Lee, I’m pranking him. I don’t care what speech you have prepared.”

“Count me in, Naruto. I’ll destroy him.”

“What was it about ‘don’t you dare’ that none of y’all understood?”

Biting back a laugh, Chōza watched with amusement as the tense atmosphere faded. The kids fell into dramatics again while he stepped away, resting a hand on Chōji’s shoulder to guide him into the hallway.

Miho noticed and sighed, resting her head back onto the pillows. She settled in to watch her friends create diabolical plans for revenge, which Chōza would claim ignorance of. If he “wasn’t listening,” then he had plausible deniability. And Ino took after her father. Torture and Interrogation was certainly in her future with a mind like that. He turned his attention to Chōji.

“Have you ever been denied snacks at school?”

Chōji looked away, shuffling his feet.

“Chōji.”

His son looked up and his expression told him everything he needed to know.

“When? By whom?”

“It’s always…Teacher Mizuki. He doesn’t do it so often with me. Only when I’m not paying attention. Miho’s…a target. She has been all year.” Chōji looked uncertain, to the point that Chōza wondered when his son’s trust had wandered away. Swallowing that realization, he sank to his knee in front of his son. Chōji bit back tears, but they were filling his eyes anyway. “Shikamaru saw her stumble. And Miho just…just…fell. I saw it. From the hill. I couldn’t…I couldn’t get there. I thought…”

The hospital room had gone quiet again and Chōza wrapped his son in a hug, looking back into the room to see Miho’s dark eyes staring back at him. Chisato’s eyes. Keisuke's eyes. Chōza flinched, gritting his teeth together at the memory of his sister in that bed. That same bed.

Naruto bounded over Shikamaru onto the bed, earning an expletive from the Nara. Without a bit of fear or nervousness, the boy cuddled up to Miho’s side and held on with a plaintive look. Miho broke eye contact with her father and looked down, saying something that got the boy to dramatically sigh, throwing his arms out as if he’d been hit by a kunai and was falling faint.

Lee jumped into action, rescuing Naruto from spilling onto the utterly fed-up Nara.

“You’re all idiots! She’s recovering!” Ino barked, shoving Naruto off the bed with enough finality that it sent all three boys toppling to the floor. "There! Now get out if you're going to be annoying!"

"Ino, stop yelling." 

"You want me to start yelling, Nara? I can start yelling." 

Miho shut her eyes and leaned back. 

Patting Chōji’s head, Chōza smiled.

If that smile had an edge— and edge that promised retribution— then, well, all Akimichi’s had their limits.

In the still-cold early hours before dawn, when others woke to ponder their coming days or the feel of their loves cocooned against their chests, or even their minimal daily embarrassments they suffered at the hands of themselves or others, Akimichi Miho pushed herself through the cool morning air. Her chest was aching terribly as she rounded the training ground.

She was completing her 555^th lap of her daily jog.

Muscles burning and eyes watering, she slowed down her pace and stumbled over to a green towel that had been thrown over a low branch. She patted her forehead and took a deep breath, running a hand through her thick damp curls.

Judging from the dim light that was rising on the horizon, sunrise was swiftly approaching. Soon enough, Lee would arrive for their daily full-tilt run around Konoha.

It was better than lying awake, she thought vaguely.

It was better than watching different conclusions to a lifelong nightmare played out in her mind like visions.

In each version, a new person was killed.

With one errant decision, Chōji died gruesomely before her very eyes—under a huge orange-furred claw. He would look to her in the last moments before his bones were crushed, begging her to help.

Muscles ripped from bones, blue flames gathering about his body.

She was always helpless, watching her brother's death as if it were a movie.

It wasn’t flat and two-dimensional anymore.

It was real.

In other flickers, Naruto was impaled by a hand through his chest and birds were screeching. Naruto, whose smile was so comforting and bright. He would be lost with the chirping of birds. And her chest would begin to throb, each beat of her heart like a sentence for torture. She never saw the attacker die.

But she wanted to.

Lee was stabbed, terribly mangled in the onslaught.

Shikamaru was consumed in bright white light.

Ino, her vibrant eyes blank and unseeing.

Her father burned alive in an explosion that shook the very earth beneath her feet as she looked on from a distance. Hundreds of thousands gone in mere seconds.

No matter how hard she struggled not to see these things, they still came.

Years. She kept her silence for years.

Ino knew.

Ino was the only one.

Ino carried that weight, never once faltering under it.

Taking a deep breath, she eased her eyes open and looked upward to the lightening skies. Light blues into pale pinks. The sun would soon rise.

            Listen to the wind blow.

            Watch the sun rise.

Knowing Lee, he would demand they spend an hour enjoying the "beauty of youth" by settling themselves under a huge oak deep in the forest for the rest of the morning workout.

Nothing but push-ups, extreme calisthenics, and intense spars: that was Lee's idea of—

"Miho!"

—a light workout.

Right on time. As usual. Maybe even a little early, if the colors of the sky were right.

"Miho, my dear Beautiful Friend of the Ages! Have you finished your warm-up? Are you ready for a run around the village?"

Lee landed on the ground beside her in a crouch, bowl-cut hair shimmering. He looked up past his bushy eyebrows and cocked his head to the side with obvious confusion. Miho grimaced, hiding her face in her towel. She was making a show of it, trying to imply that she didn't want his obvious wide-eyed staring.

"You look pale. Is your morning youthfulness fading? It cannot be! You are always so full of gleaming youth during the fruitful hours of first sunlight!"

"I'm not tired, Lee. I'm scared."

She wasn't going to avoid the conversation. There was no sense in beating around the bush about it. It was probably a bit too blunt though because it made Lee stumble a bit on a tree root. He recovered easily and sent her a bright smile, teeth gleaming as the sun broke over the horizon behind him. Miho raised a hand to shield her eyes, trying not to see the reassuring look that Lee was giving her. Turning her back, she reached down and grabbed her bottle of water.

"It's the day, Lee. It's pass or fail. I have to pass."

"You'll do wonderfully, Miho! I have a lot of confidence in you. Ino, Naruto, Chōji, Shikamaru, Kiba, even the beautiful flower, Sakura…All of us have confidence in you. You work hard and that hard work will pay off. We'll be the greatest ninja through our hard work! I promise you! If I'm wrong, then I'll run around Konoha two hundred times on my thumbs!" She gulped down a swig of lukewarm water and gave him a close-lipped smile, eyes closing due to her rounded cheeks. "Even Gai-sensei says that you will be a great ninja! He says that he can see a youthful glow in you!"

Her eyes opened and, though she usually couldn't see it in herself, she could see the certainty in Lee's eyes. Confidence. He had never doubted her before.

Why would he suddenly start now?

Miho grinned and settled her water bottle in the crook of the roots. Straightening, she pushed her hands down the front of her blouse, rolling over the extra meat that hung over the edge of her loose brown pants.

"Thank you, Lee. I'll try my best." He nodded enthusiastically. "Let's run. We've got three hours before I've got to be at the Academy. We'll make them count. What time is your mission?"

"Nine," he leaped up and performed a backhand-spring onto a large branch overhead. "Four hundred laps full-speed!"

"Three copies should do it," Teacher Iruka told her. There was an easy smile on his face and she could remember all the times he pulled her from the dirt. All the times that he brushed the dust from her sweaty shirts. Her eyes skittered to where Teacher Mizuki sat with a critical look on his face. There was no outright contempt. Not anymore, not since she was ten and competed in the marathon.

Her eyes never left him though. Because she wanted him to know, for him to see.

“Do you have a goal, child?”

Hurry it up, Akimichi! I want three hundred. You’re at twenty! We've been at this for thirty minutes already! No food until you finish.

Fatty. Slug. Pig. Useless lard. Fat ass. Big girl.

"I want to protect the people I care about. That’s all.”

I can still hear you saying...You would never break the chain.

She could see her whole life building up to this.

All of her training— All of the hard work.

Weekends spent conditioning her body. Hours spent running and running and running. Falling down and running some more. Every hit. Every time she was in the dirt, washing the grime and blood from her mouth. The callouses, the blisters, the sunburn. Even at the present, her body would still occasionally lose its motor functioning, lose its coordination. Like her mind remembered a different body, a different movement. Even now, she struggled to overcome the obstacles. Even now, as the weights tugged on her muscles at all hours. Even as she ate and ate and ate to stay the same, to gain. 

She struggled and worked hard to overcome it, everything.

Just one jutsu.

One jutsu and she would be a ninja.

One technique.

One chance.

She raised her hands and never looked away from the silver-haired instructor. Her fingers looped around each other with practiced ease. A goal? Maybe she did have a goal. A smaller one. With a slight quirk to her lips, she performed the technique and stepped back to gesture toward her copies.

Three girls, just as large as her. Same wild black hair, same sharp dark eyes. Same cheek swirls. Same roundness, same thick legs, thick center. Thick arms. Thick shoulders. Thick rolls. Muscles and height. The same scarf, the symbol of her clan emblazoned on the fabric. Big. Powerful.

She looked at herself and saw her achievement. She saw. For the first time, Miho truly looked at herself and saw something unbelievably and wonderfully beautiful: that "big girl" was a ninja now—she was a kunoichi. She could do anything.

She could protect anyone.

There was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

And with a grin she let her clones disappear.

Chapter Text

As the story goes, there was once a man who worked for the Sage of Six Paths. He did heavy labor, making use of his large, muscular build to accomplish great feats of strength. It was said that he once lifted an entire mountain and moved it aside to help a local village gain access to water. The villagers were so grateful that they gave him their secret recipe for fermented cabbage. Hearing of these feats, the Sage sought to repay the man. The man waved off the Sage with a smile.

"I'm always happy to help," he said.

He wanted no material gains and only sought an honest living.

When the Sage persisted, the strong man gestured toward the small children playing in the courtyard of his home. He asked that his children be provided for and protected in the years to come, should he ever fall in battle. He knew that the world of shinobi was doomed to danger and malcontent by its very nature, but he wished that his descendants would have good health in their blood.

The Sage, being grateful to this man for his unfailing support and friendship, agreed to the request and listed seven herbs that he had encountered in his travels— seven herbs that would ensure strength and good health.

That was the origin of the Ritual of Seven Herbs, a tradition that was as old as the Akimichi Clan, predating even Konoha.

It demanded that seven various grasses, plants, and vegetables be consumed before midnight on the evening of a ninja’s rites.

Her hand rose to rest on the forehead protector that sat around her neck. Part of her worried that they would recall the decision, a strange anxiety. By the eyes of the clan though, as long as she consumed the Seven, she would be a kunoichi of the Akimichi—ranked or not.

Everything in the Akimichi Clan involved some kind of story.

At least, that was the way Miho understood it. And she had been studying the customs of her clan since she was born. Best she could tell, the herbs were meant to represent the seven pillars of the Akimichi identity.

Miho’s mouth watered as she stared at her mother flitting around the kitchen.

This was also an Akimichi tradition, one that she had been anticipating for weeks.

The graduation party.

The entire clan took part in the celebration, cooking up their finest recipes to commemorate the accomplishments of the newest Akimichi shinobi. Miho glanced to her right and saw her brother licking his lips. He glanced to her in the same moment and he smiled wide, eyes crinkling.

Chōji was practically glowing with happiness.

Shikamaru passed. Miho passed. Chōji passed. Ino passed. Hell, Kiba passed.

She imagined that Chōji had wanted nothing more in his life.

Miho’s smile faded and she swallowed, looking away.

Naruto, though…

Everything would be fine, wouldn’t it?

It was fine last time. Then and there.

It’d be fine again.

Still the anxiety roiled in her gut.

"You wanted takoyaki (1), right?"

Her mother turned a bit and grinned at them, fluffy cheeks rose-colored from the heat of the kitchen. When both children nodded vigorously, she gestured toward the table. Hurriedly, Miho rushed forward and pushed out the chair, settling down to watch the food with gleaming eyes. Miho could feel her stomach churning and she wasted no time in reaching for a sweet bun that sat on the center plate of the table.

Chōji seemed to consider her actions and then reached forward to grab a cookie, stuffing it into his mouth with a grin. His chip bag was left to be finished later.

Miho closed her eyes to savor the way the sugar melted in her mouth. It seemed to flutter there, making her heart dance with excitement.

"These are— so good. Mom, so good."

When she opened her eyes again, she saw her mother looking them over with a proud grin. Chōji had his eyes closed still, a big smile bending around the cookie.

"Your aunts and uncles are cooking up your favorite festival foods. No ikayaki, per your hate of the stuff." Miho gagged at the mere mention of that food, remembering when her father tricked her into eating it. "I'm making your favorite desserts, of course."

"Is Aunt Midori making her yakisoba? Is she?" Chōji grinned, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Their aunt was the owner of a popular grill restaurant and she was arguably the best cook in the clan. Miho could feel him bouncing in his chair. She grinned broadly, laughing at his enthusiasm through her sweet bun.

"She makes the best yakisoba! It's soft and tastes great going down, too! What about cake, will there be cake?"

"What about me? I thought you liked my soba noodles?" Her mother looked a little offended and Miho raised her hands in placation, not wanting her to get mad on such a great day. In an instant, her mother's irritated expression disappeared and was replaced by the same proud smile. "Alright. Just for today you're allowed to like someone else's food. I'm making cakes, cookies, buns, maybe even some dango."

Miho actually felt a growl of excitement welling in her throat, but she choked it down. Chōji didn't bother and actually purred at the notion of so many sweets.

It was the stuff of dreams for any Akimichi.

"Alright. Alright. That's enough loitering! If I let you sit around here, the two of you will eat all of my goodies." Miho wasted no time in giving an honest nod. Her mother chuckled. "You need to go get ready. Your father will be home in an hour. That's when the party starts. Go on! Go on! I laid out your clothes."

Her mother made a shooing motion and turned back toward her mixing bowl.

Pushing herself from her chair, Miho hurried down the hallway—her footsteps thundering along the hollow wood floors. She could hear Chōji's laughs echoing behind her, causing her to turn as she reached the doorway to her bedroom.

Chōji stopped at his room with smile so wide that his eyes were shut. His meaty fingers clutched the doorframe. She stared at him a moment, her own smile growing wider. For a moment, the anxiety dissipated.

Naruto would be fine, wouldn’t he?

"Chōji…We did it." Her hand reached up to the metal and cloth around her neck. "We became ninja."

Chōji nodded, eyes opening. "Yeah. Yeah, we did." He shook his head and started down the hallway to stand in front of her, reaching out his hand. Miho mirrored the action and looked down at their linked hands. "It was hard, but we did it. We became ninja. Together." Miho nodded her head, looking up at him though her head was lowered. "I will definitely become a great ninja. What about you, Miho? We'll grow together, won't we? We'll both be strong ninja one day."

Miho felt a surge of pride rush through her, knowing that Chōji could accomplish anything he set his mind to. He was destined for greatness—the heir of the Akimichi Clan. He would overcome all obstacles in his way. She had absolute confidence in him.

As for herself? Her confidence wavered, doubt tugging at the pit of her stomach. The task she had set for herself…It wouldn’t be easy. Changing the future, changing the world...It was heavy. 

She nodded anyway, only slightly at first, but with more and more strength.

"We'll do it. We'll do it. We're going to be strong."

Chōji's brows pulled downward and he stared at her, smile dropping a bit at the almost imperceptible waver in her voice. His other hand rose and he settled it on her shoulder.

She felt herself falter. She should have known that Chōji would sense it.

He always did.

"We won't leave each other behind, Miho. I'll never leave you behind. Not like then. Not like the marathon, not again. I— You're my sister. I won’t ever…I won’t ever abandon you."

His lips set into a firm line and she could see a flicker of him—a flicker of her brother's confident self, hidden behind his insecurities. The man that he would someday become. She could see it, see him. If she lived long enough, she looked forward to meeting him.

"I'm… proud of you. All this time, you've been working hard and you never gave up, no matter what. I wanted to say that before we—before we're on different teams."

She didn't lower her head a bit as tears pricked her eyes. Her hand tightened around his before she threw herself toward him, latching her arms around his shoulders. Instinctually, he returned the embrace. The hug was fierce and strong and warm.

"I'm proud of you, too. Always. You’ve worked so hard." Her eyes widened and she pulled herself away, a grin pulling at her lips. "I got something for you! Hold on!"

Before he could say a word, she spun around and sprinted into her room. Her feet caught on the random pieces of clothing that lay around the space, before she fell to her knees in front of a large trunk. She could hear Chōji in the doorway, heavily breathing through his nose. He was trying not to cry.

"I went to the market with Lee and Ino last week. That was an adventure! I saw this and I thought about you immediately. I mean, we both have a thing for scarves—"

"That kind of ruins the surprise, Miho." Chōji laughed, coming to kneel on the floor next to her while she rummaged in the trunk. "It's amazing that you lost it that quickly though. You're normally so organized."

"Nightmares and exams," Miho answered without thought as a way to explain her mess of a room. When she saw Chōji's eyes narrow in her peripheral vision, she shook her head. "Please, don't start."

"You should tell someone. Those dreams…aren't normal. Even if you don’t tell me.”

Miho fought off the guilt. With a thinly triumphant smile, she pulled the scarf from the trunk and handed it over to her brother. He continued to watch her for a moment, clearly noticing the fact that she was diverting his attention and ignoring him. Smiling, he took the proffered gift and ran his hand along the red fabric.

She would tell him soon.

She wouldn't be able to avoid it anymore.

"It's awesome, Miho." When his hand reached the end of the scarf, he held up the design and brought the pad of his thumb over the raised burgundy threading. "Your work?" It was the Akimichi clan symbol, roughly embroidered into the cotton fabric. When she nodded, he reached up and unwound the white scarf from around his neck. "I should have gotten you a present, too."

"No, I just wanted to—" He placed the white fabric around her neck and set to work looping it around twice and folding it in the way he had worn it before. "Chōji, you don't have to give this to me! It's your favorite! You don't even have to wear the one I got you. It was just because I thought that the red would suit you, that's all!"

He was already wrapping it around his neck as he had done the one before, grinning so widely again that his eyes were closed. He wasn't listening to her, Miho realized, and she just settled back onto her haunches.

"You're so stubborn."

"Uh huh," he agreed as he stood. Miho followed suit, shaking her head. "Shikamaru says I'm the most stubborn out of everyone. You're stubborn, too. We're related to Pa, what did you expect?"

"Shikamaru's never wrong." Miho responded.

She watched as he strolled out of the room, his hand reaching deep into his pocket to retrieve his half-eaten bag of potato chips. Unable to stop a grin, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her wild hair was just barely contained in a ponytail and the hereditary swirls on her cheeks seemed brighter and more prominent than ever. She raised her hands and rested them atop the scarf, pulling the forehead protector to rest over the fabric. Glancing toward the clothing on the bed— a dress, obviously laid out by her mother— she deflated a bit and then nodded.

There was drumming, steady beats pulsating with the ecstatic energy of the night. She could already hear the raucous laughter of her uncles, aunts, and cousins. Excitement was growing in her chest as she followed her parents out to the central courtyard. Her sweaty hands ran along the skirt of her dress.

In just an hour or so, the Ritual of Seven Herbs would solidify her place as a kunoichi of the clan.

Until then, the atmosphere would remain joyous. Her eyes caught a bounce in her father's gait and she grinned. The Akimichi weren't necessarily a rowdy bunch. Nearly always, they were considered mild-mannered and cultured, but the celebrative atmosphere of festivals always seemed to bring out the "wild side" of Akimichis, if you could call it that.

Really, what it came down to was that the Akimichi loved parties—because parties related to the two most important of Akimichi priorities: a plethora of food and the presence of family.

Miho could recall various clan-wide celebrations as she was growing up—from marriages to babies, from elder birthdays to religious observances.

She could remember her cousin Chihiro's wedding, which was a huge affair with fireworks and even a huge collection of clan drummers. It was only short a few fishing booths to being equal with any annual village-wide festival. Her widow was on the other side of the ceremony grounds, up to her arms in shredded cabbage. At least she was smiling.

There was a round of raucous laughter around the Elders.

For being so "mild-mannered," her family sure did love to celebrate.

She glanced over to where Chōji was chewing on a pork bun that he had filched from the kitchen before they began the trek to the courtyard.

"Are you two ready?"

Their father came to a stop while the clan let out a cheer for the drummers, who had reached the climax of the rapid beating. Miho resisted the urge to raise a fist like she would with Lee and instead nodded her head. He turned, looking down upon them both with obvious pride.

"You have done the Akimichi clan proud." He lowered himself down to one knee and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "You've made me proud." He glanced to Miho and smiled. "You will grow to be a kunoichi as strong as—" He stopped, shaking his head. "—as strong as the women of legend."

Miho felt tears pricking at her eyes, noticing his hesitation.

Because she wasn’t dumb.

She knew. She’d known for years.

Not everything, but she knew enough.

His gaze then shifted to Chōji.

"You are strong, Chōji. You’re kind and you’re going to be a good man. A man that can protect his friends and family.”

Miho watched her brother's chin rise just a little, his confidence seeming stronger than it had ever been. She nodded resolutely, seeing him glance her way, looking for some sort of reassurance. She was with him, every single step of the way.

Miho would readily admit that she had more confidence in her brother than she had in herself. He nodded in return, reaching up to grasp his scarf. Her father noticed that movement and looked between them both, his smile seeming to light the entire hallway.

The renewed drumming grew louder and louder and louder, seeming to rattle the entire compound. Her father stood, saddling himself back and pushing the two of them toward the rice paper doorway. Nervously, Miho shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her heart was thundering in her chest, spurred on by the rapid drumbeat outside.

Then, silence.

The doors slid open and the loud cheers could likely be heard all over the village. Miho felt herself stagger backward until she bumped into her mother's stomach. Hands came to rest on her shoulders and she could hear her mother's voice in her ear.

"Have a good time, Miho. You deserve this."

She gave Miho's shoulders a squeeze of support before releasing. The young girl could hardly believe her eyes.

This was nothing like any clan festival she had seen before. There were streamers stretched across the space, supported in the middle by tall, painted poles that held lanterns of red and gold. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated each and every face of her family members, cheeks rosy and flushed with the exertion of laughing and joking.

Along the opposite side of the wide courtyard, stalls had been erected— stalls that were used in nearly every village festival for Akimichi wares and foodstuffs. Far too the left, she could see her elder cousins— Maruten and Tonkatsu, both of which were battling it out on a full-sized wrestling mat.

Catching her attention, Maruten raised his hand in a wave and his brother quickly tackled him to the ground. Grinning now, Miho look around to where Chōji was standing with his mouth wide open.

"All of this for us?" He sounded dumbfounded, as if he couldn't believe it.

Neither could she, quite frankly.

This put every other celebration to shame.

"You're the heirs of our clan." Elder Ayumu explained from where she was sitting nearby. She gave a grand gesture toward the merry-making. "Not to mention, it gives us an excuse to eat festival food. Do you really need more explanation than that?"

Chōji shook his head and ran off toward the stalls on the other side, disappearing into the crowd. Miho made to follow him.

"Wait, Miho. Sweet bun, give an old woman a moment." Miho’s gaze settled on her elderly aunt, who was watching her carefully. Elder Chojiro had clearly braided her hair as it was pinned up in intricate plaits. The old woman would never have pulled that style off herself. Miho grinned. "I made you some karumetou. It’s over there." Reaching into her pocket, the old woman pulled out something, holding it out with a quivering hand. "Take this, sweet bun."

"What—"

"A graduation gift. It was your mother's, when she was your age. I've held onto it for quite some time." The elderly woman reached forward, placing the scroll into the girl's open palm. Miho's brows pulled together as she stared at the intricate seal on the red scroll. "It's a blood seal. It can only be opened by you. Open it when you are ready. Until then, keep it in a safe place."

With the deep, meaningful look that Elder Ayumu gave her, Miho knew.

This belonged to her biological mother.

Miho nodded, holding it tightly to her chest.

"You look so much like her…" Elder Ayumu sounded wistful, reaching forward to brush the black hair from Miho's shoulder. "Go and enjoy yourself, sweetest bun.” The woman seemed to think of something before smiling. “It appears we won the best. You’re a good girl, Miho. Go on now.”

A little confused, Miho nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Elder Ayumu. I will take care of this. Whatever it is.”

“I’m sure you will. Now, see about some food before I up your calories again."

Miho pushed the scroll into her right pocket, trying to counter her racing heart. It was something to think more on later.

She was still an Akimichi, no matter what. Like her mother.

And if she felt just a little out of place, then she ignored that feeling.

Because it was wrong.

She grabbed the first snack she could find— a skewer of glazed beef— and popped it into her mouth. All three pieces at once. She pulled them off with her teeth and focused on chewing.

Her mother was an Akimichi. Full stop. And her father—

Let it go, Miho.

It was just exquisite, the celebration. There were delicious piles of mochi, onigiri, and sekihan. So many rice treats to choose from, all practically glistening with scrumptious potential. Miho felt herself salivating as she eyed every single option. She could hear her second cousin laughing behind the stand as she saddled up to the array.

He was the main purveyor of rice in the entire village, she knew, he owned several outlying farms that supplied a majority of the stocked rice products. Meanwhile, his younger brother owned one of the best distilleries in the entirety of Fire. The man knew how to cook rice unlike anyone she had ever encountered.

"Miho-Miho, you're drooling! Show some decorum, will you?"

She drew the back of her hand under her mouth and tried not to roll her eyes. She hadn't been drooling. His waving hand drew her attention away from the food and she stood a little straighter in his presence. He had always been a formidable shinobi.

"Finally made it around to little ol' me, did you? I saw that you went to the yaki stalls first. What's the meaning of that, huh? Showing favoritism already? You're barely even groomed as an adviser and yet here you are playing favorites! What shall we do, this poor clan of ours?"

Miho opened her mouth and then closed it. She had years of practice playing with her Uncle Zosui's boisterous personality. After all, he had passed it on to his son Maruten and she dealt with him practically every other day during clan sparring sessions. He was the second most proficient in bō techniques after Elder Torifu.

"If you want my favor, Uncle Zosui, you have to earn it. Not that my favor can mean much to a man of your stature." She raised her chin and gestured toward the array of delectable rice treats. For a moment he actually looked impressed. Then, her expression softened at the sight of a particularly delectable-looking onigiri and her stern expression melted into hungry desperation. "Can I? Can I, Uncle Zosui? Please?"

Her uncle snorted and shook his head, wild brown hair rolling over his shoulders.

"You were very convincing for all of five seconds. Sounded just like a real advisor."

When she didn't look away from the rice ball, he let out a loud, booming laugh and gestured forward with one of his large hands.

"Go ahead! Go ahead! Eat five or ten for all I care. Hell, eat twenty! They were made to be eaten anyway! You'll need the energy starting tomorrow, believe you, me! Lots and lots of energy, if I hear right."

She grabbed seven different kinds, stuffing one whole rice ball into her mouth. Zosui's rice was always sweet and sticky and delicious. How did Maruten maintain his weight? He should weigh more with his father being such an awesome cook! Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor.

Her mother would be dismayed for sure. She always thought that she cooked the best rice. Miho let her believe it too.

Then, it hit her. His words.

"What—What do you mean I'll need it tomorrow?" Her eyes opened and she saw the man hide his large face in his meaty palms. Swallowing in one large gulp, she leaned forward eagerly and bounced on her toes. "You know something, don't you? You know who my teacher will be."

"I'm as ignorant as they come, just ask your Pop."

He worked in the Jōnin Corps. He knew something, especially from the way he was rubbing his hands together. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest. He knew who her teacher would be! She could tell from the nigh-wicked gleam in his steel gray eyes. Her mouth opened to begin her rapid-fire questions, but in the blink of an eye, her mouth was stuffed with onigiri again. With a swift movement, he bopped her chin upward and let out a peal of obnoxious laughter when her thick cheeks puffed out.

"I swear—Just like your mother! She used to do that! Looked just like a chipmunk with her big ol' cheeks!"

Miho chewed as fast as she could, trying to formulate her questions. Which mother? "Y-You know who—"

"Can't say that I do," Zosui shrugged. She shot him a disbelieving stare. "Gotta say, I think you drew the short senbon. Considering who else is gonna be teaching, well, you might come out okay…” Miho just barely withheld a snort, thinking of Hatake Kakashi and his litany of issues. And her brother’s soon-to-be chain-smoking teacher. “Be patient with them. They’re all messes. Say, would you look at the time? It's time—"

"—to begin the Ritual of Seven Herbs!"

Her father's voice rose over the din of music and talking. The drummers slowed their rhythm to two beats every second or so. Like a heartbeat. Miho felt her muscles lock and she went still, mid-chew. Her attention swung around to where her father was standing at the center of the courtyard. Her discussion was quickly forgotten.

"Come along, Miho! Chōji, finish your cookie."

Miho felt a shove to her shoulders and she stumbled forward, tripping a bit as her feet got caught underneath her. Her heart seemed to pulsate in her throat. Nervously, she swallowed bit-by-bit the remaining rice that had been stuffed into her mouth, shooting Uncle Zosui a dark look over her shoulder.

"It's that time. My children have finally graduated the Academy."

"We knew they would!" Someone—her cousin, Emi—shouted from the back corner. She was one of the most supportive and outspoken of the Akimichi teens. Miho sent the older girl a shy smile, while she was given a salute in response. "Got a couple of stubborn mules there!"

"Chōji will be a kind-hearted mule one day!"

“Miho’s the one that will kick you in the teeth.”

Miho focused on her footsteps, glancing toward Chōji every few seconds to see the color on his cheeks growing darker and darker. By the time he came to stand beside her, his blush was moving to his ears and neck. The family always did this at gatherings, especially those that inducted new, young shinobi into the clan ranks.

Whereas other clans were demure or cold or negative, this was the atmosphere of the Akimichi. New ninja of the clan were greeted with warmth and love, support for their strengths and respect for their weaknesses. With the way Chōji wore his confidence on his sleeve, it was only right that the clan bolster his morale. Afterall, he was the heir of the clan.

"Chōji will be a great leader!"

"Miho will support him!”

Chōji kept his head lowered, not used to the outright praise. Before she realized it, her hand was reaching out and she rested it on his shoulder. In an instant, the change was visible. His back straightened a bit, almost as if he had realized she was watching him. A small smile pulled at her dry lips. He'd at least feign some confidence in front of his little sister. He always did. Over the years, he had grown into some feigned confidence just to reassure Miho.

Miho knew though, some of his confidence was real. Because it had to be.

If he wanted her to gain confidence, then he had to as well. The clan continued to shower him with praise and support as their father gestured toward a pair of red-clothed pillows that sat before two simple wooden serving trays. One pillow sat slightly ahead of the other and Miho quickly positioned herself in the secondary seat, eyes continually focused on Chōji as he lowered himself into a formal position.

"Our sixteenth head!"

“You did well, my student!”

That was Elder Torifu’s voice!

He was supposed to be in the Capital!

Miho felt her breath catch when her father waved a hand.

Immediately, the shouts of praise were hushed. The quietened drumbeats remained, as they always did during the ceremony. They symbolized the heart of the clan—continuous, never faltering, constant.

Her father's voice was lower, stronger—he was no longer just her Papa; he was the fifteenth head of the Akimichi Clan: their leader and patriarch.

"You both have passed your graduation exams and have exhibited strengths in the ninja arts. You have chosen to live the life of a shinobi and kunoichi, sacrificing all for your clan and your village." Her head nodded, following the example of the others she had watched participate in the ceremony over the years. "You will now take part in the Ritual of Seven Herbs, thus cementing your place as a ninja of the clan."

Her father turned slightly and took a scroll that was handed over by— Miho’s eyes widened. Elder Torifu. The weathered old man looked in her direction and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes though…His eyes showed how proud he was.

"Young ones of the clan," he murmured, graveled voice tumbling over the words. "These herbs were gifted to us by our allies—the Nara and Yamanaka. Three of the herbs you consume hail from the Nara stores. Three from the Yamanaka gardens. The seventh and final herb will represent the Akimichi clan. Consume all seven and you will be a member of the Akimichi shinobi, regardless of rank within the village."

There was something entrancing about his deep timbre. She could feel her anticipation building in her chest. He nodded toward her, a smiling ticking at the corner of his chapped lips.

"Seri, Nazuna, Hakobera—contributions of the Yamanaka." She watched as her mother stepped forward, a bag in her hand. "Seri, the water dropwort, symbolizes perseverance and persistence. When battles are close, you may win by sheer determination."

Miho held her breath as her mother lowered herself to kneel in front of them. Her mother reached into the bag and withdrew a mixture of crushed herbs, using her other hand to settle the bag onto the ground.

"Nazuna, the shepard's purse, symbolizes tenacity—the willingness to dust off and try again when one fails."

Her mother shifted forward and removed the cover of the seven-herb porridge that sat on the table between them.

The steam that rose from the dish billowed out, caught on a breeze that swept through the courtyard. Miho felt her heart begin to beat in time to the slowly-quickening drum beats that her cousins were hammering out nearby. Her attention shifted to her father and then to Elders Ayumu and Chojiro, who were watching nearby. There were tears in Elder Chojiro’s eyes.

"Hakobera pushes you to exceed yourself and your expectations." Her mother sprinkled the herbs onto the bowl of porridge and smiled brightly, tears glistening in her eyes with the lantern firelight.

Miho thought her mother never looked so beautiful.

"Surpass yourself and prosper in the clan," her mother murmured. "Remember that. Always seek to grow."

Her father stepped forward then and pulled a small bag from the belt loop of his tunic.

"Hotokenoza, Gogyo, Suzuna—contributions of the Nara."

Miho felt her heart beating wildly in her throat as her father paced toward her with slow and careful steps. She could feel Chōji's attention shifting to her, eyes wide with wonder at the ceremony. Seeing it hardly compared to participating in it. He held her gaze for a long moment before their father began speaking again.

Together. That’s what his eyes said. We’re doing this together.

"Hotokenoza symbolizes patience and serenity. May you have tolerance and endurance in the face of all your troubles and battles."

A smile began to appear on her father's face, though she couldn't quite say why. She mirrored the smile though, unable to help herself. His hand reached into the small bag, which seemed too utterly tiny for his large hands. He withdrew the mixture of herbs and sat back on his haunches.

"Gogyo, the cudweed, represents all the potential the Akimichi body possesses. Nurture that strength."

The porridge steam caught the wind. It was a comforting scent, seeming to rest inside her chest as she held her breath. Her eyes opened and she watched as the herbs were sprinkled over the top.

"Suzuna, the turnip," her father explained, "cooked into this porridge, symbolizes the humility that you must have when entering the shinobi life. You must never be too proud to seek help, especially from family, friends, and our allies." He nodded resolutely, pushing himself to stand. His hand reached out and he helped their mother to her feet.

Miho could sense the energy of the courtyard was growing more and more ecstatic. Her feet were tingling beneath her as she anxiously awaited the final words, the final herb of the seven. She’d eat the porridge then.

Then, and only then, would she be an official kunoichi of the clan.

"The suzushiro, plant of the Akimichi."

Elder Torifu spoke up again as he hobbled forward to stand before them. It was tradition that the eldest member of the clan would present the final herb of the mixture—the old welcoming the young. Miho sat a little straighter and she saw her brother do the same. Elder Torifu spooned the porridge into two fine china bowls.

"This plant represents... integrity. It is a symbol of the honor that the Akimichi possess. The radish grows in full sunlight, can grow multiple times a year in many environments. So, too, must you. Not just as shinobi and kunoichi of Konoha, but as members of a clan which draws its strength from the food which we consume. It is honor and goodness."

Miho's mind flashed back to the story of the two ninja.

"There are two ninja in you. There are two ninja in me. They are both battling for supremacy, for power. They are both battling for control of your soul and body. One shinobi is strength, courage, goodness, faith, and hope-He is integrity. The other is disappointment, fear, anger, disloyalty, hate, and despair. He is corruption embodied. They fight constantly, inside us all. They are always fighting to gain control."

Chōji looked up at their father with wide eyes, "Which ninja will win?"

"The one you feed."

Miho blinked, mind returning to the present as Elder Torifu handed her a bowl of porridge – the nanakusa-gayu. She followed Chōji's lead and reached down to grasp the wooden spoon, dipping it down into the rice to mix the herbs together. Pausing, she glanced back to the elder.

"When you consume this porridge, you cleanse yourself of your past and restart your lives as a shinobi and kunoichi of the Akimichi Clan." He smiled broadly, the wrinkles of his face fading slightly in his obvious happiness. His eyes alighted on her, full of pride. "Take a bite, Chōji and Miho. Eat as much as you want. Savor the meal and grow stronger."

With a grin, she did just that.

The taste of the porridge was light and, in the first bite alone, she got a bit of radish. Her stomach, though it was aching from being overextended, was soothed by the simple and light flavors that floated on her tongue. Some salt had been added and she was certain that it was her mother that cooked the porridge. Miho knew that amount of salt anywhere. Her mother always made porridge when she or Chōji were sick, always with the same amount of seasoning.

She closed her eyes and felt herself sag just a bit in relief.

She was now a kunoichi of the Akimichi and of Konoha. It was a long and difficult road, but it was worth it. So many hours of training and working and struggling. Just to taste this porridge and see the happiness on the faces of her family.

Now she could continue to—

She gasped, eyes flying open. She felt small pieces of rice become stuck in her throat as she tried to swallow. Trying to breathe shallowly, she focused on a small pit of rock that was on the ground in front of her. It was happening again. Again. The pain. It was a hot searing flash just under her rib cage at first. Her senses expanded to her celebrating family, none of which seemed to notice the sudden look of agony that had flickered across her face.

As quickly as she could, she forced her expression to become neutral- only the slightest downturn to her lips as she sat the wooden spoon down onto the serving tray. Chōji was still eating beside her, woofing down the porridge at an unbelievable pace. He was so focused that he didn't notice the way she cringed. She felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably and, for a moment, she thought she would throw up.

Something was wrong.

Anxiety.

Naruto.

How could she just leave him to go it alone tonight?

She could hide many things: her nightmares, her fears, her shame, her visions. The future, what was coming. She had done so for years. Too many years. She couldn't keep hiding this panic though. It was too difficult.

Fear lurched through her chest with a particularly strong stab. Foreboding spider-crawled up her spine and she forced herself to her feet, taking a few unstable steps toward the house.

"Miho?" Her brother's question was muffled by porridge spittle.

"B-Bathroom," she gagged out. Her hand rose to pull at the scarf that rested around her neck. It felt too tight, like she was being choked.

The sun had set hours ago.

It wouldn’t be long before Naruto stole the scroll. Miho ran up to her room and slammed the door shut, trying to breath through the panic. Leaning on the door, she took a deep breath and held it, eyes moving to a picture that sat on her bookshelf. The anxiety was like a tidal wave. Not a quick wash of nerves, but an inundation that only seemed to get worse. And worse. And worse.

The picture was from their last birthday. When Naruto had spent the entire day in the safe confines of the Akimichi property, gotten his customary yellow cake with chocolate icing baked by her mother, and nearly drowned in the largest bowl of ramen that any Akimichi could make. He was wearing a shirt with the Uzumaki symbol stitched on the front. She'd stitched it.

His family symbol.

And he’d given her a plant.

It sat on the windowsill.

Miho rushed forward and grabbed her bō from the corner, slinging it onto her back. From her desk drawer, she withdrew her bandages, quickly wrapping her knees and her hands. As she hurried, she kept glancing at that photo.

And she felt ashamed.

Stories need a catalyst. They need rising action, introductions. They had requisites. Momentum. Naruto needed to steal the scroll. He needed to be saved by Iruka. He needed to learn the technique. She knew these things. Some actions needed to happen. Ino said they were “plot points.” But…

“Miho?”

…he didn’t have to do all of it alone.

Forget the stupid plot, Miho!

Turning, Miho straightened herself and looked back at Chōji, unwavering. “I gotta go.”

He started to say something, but stopped. After a moment, he stepped back from the door to let her pass. He followed along behind her, keeping his footsteps uncharacteristically quiet. She could feel his concern. “I— I’ll cover for you. Say you got sick. I…That’s not lying, right?”

“No, Chōji, it’s not.” They reached the back of the house. Everyone would be distracted by the ongoing celebration, so she could slip out past the east gate. It was never guarded during parties since it was so overgrown. Stopping, she looked out at the darkened village. She wondered briefly if she was making a mistake. Taking a deep breath, Miho turned to her brother. “I—I’m sorry. I gotta—”

“I never asked. Never asked what all of it is or what it was. Why. I never asked. And I’m not going to ask now.” He chewed on his lip before raising his head. “I just hope that someday, you can tell me. Because you can tell me.” Miho surged forward, throwing her arms around him. He gave a wet laugh, returning the hug with such fierceness that Miho gasped. “You can trust me, Miho. I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” Miho stepped away. “I know. I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Miho ran.

She was halfway there when the alarm sounded. Two blasts. Level Two. Chunin and higher on alert. Genin and down, along with civilians, off the streets. No imminent threat. Miho tried to ignore how her heart lept into her throat as she sprinted past the chunin main office and the Academy. Naruto would be headed for a heavily forested area, but Miho couldn’t remember where that was. She could see the images in her head, but with no context. Coming to a crossroads, she skidded to a stop and looked down the two paths. If she got caught out during a Level Two, she’d be in trouble.

It was a risk she was willing to take.

There was a building in her head, an outpost or a station.

The closest station within Konoha was in the northern forest. It was a “seal maintenance site.” They’d visited during the first years of the Academy. Which meant that the site was a decoy used for storage. Miho spun on her heel and darted in that direction.

She wasn’t winded when she arrived to the edge of the forest, but her fear made her breathing quick and painful. Her memories of that scene— that battle— were blurry. Mizuki and Iruka and a large shuriken. Naruto’s clones.

Taking the bō from her back, she whipped her fingers on her dress and affirmed hold on the wood. Her bandages aided in her grip since they were coated in a sort of plastic tar. At the very least, the staff was comforting. Its presence was reassuring.  

Naruto was out here. She could feel it. She could feel it in the very fiber of her bones.

“Never been my thing. Like I wasn’t supposed to have a family.”  

Miho gingerly moved around a large poplar, edging around some undergrowth. The darkness was disconcerting. Her eyes felt impossibly wide, but she couldn’t see much of anything in the dim moonlight. Naruto probably wasn’t scared of the darkness.

“Then, you showed up and I got to see what a real family was like, ya know?”

Even with the extra help from herself and the others, Naruto hadn’t graduated. And Miho left him alone. He said that she was like family and she’d left him for the sake of the plot. Thankfully her bō was reinforced Nara wood or else it would’ve shattered under her grip. Another lurch of fear shot through her stomach. She made a mistake.

Such a big mistake.

“So, what’s a baby genin doin’ out here?”

Miho swept the bō around by instinct, barely withholding a yell of surprise. The man caught it with his right hand, crossed over his body. She would’ve struck his head if the hit had landed. His expression in the moonlight was exceedingly dull. He kept his grip on the staff and pulled something from his mouth with the left hand. Letting out a breath, Miho tried to relax— to show herself as anything but a threat.

This guy was a jōnin.

“You’re a jumpy one, aren’t you?” He raised his brows, releasing the staff. Miho drew it away, a little unsettled by his nonchalant shrug. She took a couple steps back, trying not to shake. She didn’t have time to get caught. “You realize that we’re in a Level Two alert, right? That means baby genins and under stay inside. You’re outside. What’s the deal?”

Brows drawing together, Miho didn’t know what to say.

Others would’ve immediately issued a warning for insubordination, he was asking for an explanation—whoever he was. A bandana was drawn around his head and his hair dipped to his shoulders. He replaced something back into his mouth— Was that a senbon? She couldn’t remember his name or what he did. And he waited, hands going to his pockets. Miho didn’t know what to say.

My friend stole the Super-Secret Sealing Scroll thing because one of our old teachers is a sick son of a bitch who gets off on torturing people. Oh yeah, and Iruka is out here somewhere too.

OR

Just thought I’d take a stroll in the middle of a Level Two, no big deal.

When all else fails, honesty.

“My friend is somewhere out here. I can’t go hide; I need to find him.”

Miho tried to make it sound as confident as she could. She even stood a bit taller, aided by her staff. Because it was solid, she could be as well. That’s what Elder Torifu taught her.

“Looking for a friend, huh? Okay, then let’s see if we can find them. What’s their name?”

She pulled in a breath, puffing herself up as much as possible. “Uzumaki Naruto.”

His nonchalant demeanor fell away. Brows pulling together, he stared down at her with narrowed eyes. To her surprise, he lowered himself down to one knee to get on her eye level. Miho tried reel in her urge to run. There was a threat in the air, she could feel it. “You know where Uzumaki is?”

“He’s out here somewhere.” It was time to lie and Miho steeled herself. “He didn’t graduate with us. Teacher Mizuki told him that if he could steal some sort of Super-Secret Scroll or whatever that he could graduate. Told him to meet out here.” Miho tightened her grip on the staff. The guy’s eyes shifted to her grip. “Mizuki is a liar and a jerk and Naruto shouldn’t’ve trusted him. I’ve gotta find him.” Her muscles shifted, but she controlled the urge to run again.

He considered her for a moment, shifting the senbon between his teeth. “You said Mizuki told him to steal it?”

Miho nodded.

“Well, shit.”

She barely withheld a caustic snort. Instead, she refocused. “Please, Jōnin, sir. Naruto’s out here alone and I gotta help him. Please.”

He could’ve been one of those psychos that hated Naruto. He could’ve been one of those nutjobs that made it his business to see Naruto suffer. Fear of that is what had her edging away. There was no escaping a jōnin. She was fast now, but she wasn’t that fast. As if he’d read her mind, the man smiled around the senbon and stood.

“Well, let’s get to it, little lady. We’ve got a wayward prankster to catch.”

He jumped up to a nearby branch and jerked his head toward the denser forest. Miho felt her jaw drop.

“C’mon then. Let’s go!”

She followed, heart thundering in her chest. She was one jump behind him for about three minutes before he spoke up, looking over his shoulder. “You got a name?”

“Akimichi Miho.”

From what she could see, the corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Chōza’s girl?”

“Yeah.”

Naruto was out here somewhere.

“Okay. Listen up, Akimichi. They’re about half-a-click north. I can sense them. I want you to stay out of the fight. Circle around and get to your friend. Leave the rest to me and Iruka. Got it?”

“Got it.”

He nodded, clearly shifting into battle mode. It was like a shroud fell over him and every movement felt deadly. Chakra-enhanced Killing Intent rolled off of him in waves. Miho felt herself go a bit breathless with the force of it. Who the hell was this guy? She nearly didn’t notice that he’d stopped on the next branch and he grabbed her arm to throw her to the branch above him, gesturing toward the a clearing nearby. Miho felt her breath catch.

"—created after an incident twelve years ago."

Naruto was looking up toward where Mizuki was positioned. "A rule?"

Mizuki looked more hateful than she had ever seen and every instinct within her demanded that she place herself in between that man and Naruto, at any cost. Her legs were shaking when she forced herself to stay still. Shaking, she looked down to where the jōnin was watching the scene. He seemed to be strategizing, jaw clenched. Then, he glanced up and gestured with two fingers toward the left. Miho nodded and moved.

"It's a rule that everybody knows, but you, Naruto."

"Except me?" Naruto's blue eyes were hauntingly wide from what she could see as she ran to the other side of the building Iruka was pinned to. Miho was only a few feet away now, able to see the scrapes and smudges of dirt on his orange jumpsuit. Naruto’s shoulders were shaking. "What is that rule?"

"Stop it, Mizuki!" Iruka shouted.

"A rule that forbids anyone from revealing that you are actually the monster fox." Miho felt the world go still and she sucked in a breath. She’d forgotten just how cruelly Naruto had found out— "In other words, you're the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox, who killed Iruka's parents and destroyed our village."

“STOP IT!”

"Everyone has been deceiving you all this time," Teacher Mizuki—No, just Mizuki—taunted. Miho felt her heart fluttering in her chest, terror settling heavily there. Her attention tracked toward where she knew the jōnin was waiting. "Didn't you find it strange? Didn’t you find it strange how they treated you? Like dirt. Like they hated you for just being alive.”

“No!”

“Naruto!”

“That’s why you’ll never be accepted in this—”

She remembered this.

She remembered this. Damn it.

If that jōnin didn’t move, she would.

Miho threw herself forward from the underbrush beside the building, surging through the onslaught of chakra to situate herself in front of Naruto. Her staff was held at the ready. Naruto's eyes were still shut, chakra swirling. Vaguely, she heard Iruka gasp and groan as he leaned against the village. She could smell the blood.

“What?” Mizuki stopped short as he pulled the shuriken from his back. Miho narrowed her eyes and sank into her stance, digging in her toes. “What’s one useless fat-ass going to do?”

Naruto’s voice was shaking. His hand came to grip the fabric at her hip. Like he had all those years ago, in that alley. “Mi-Miho?”

“Sorry I’m late.” Miho looked over her shoulder. “You ok?”

“N-No, I-I—”

A whirring sound filled the air and she heard Mizuki's voice yell out a command of death. Naruto, in his panic, stumbled back and fell. Miho's stomach lurched and she spun on her heel, seeing the shuriken in the air and— They wouldn't escape that, not with Naruto on the ground. She threw herself over him. It was instinct, pure and simple. Her bō fell away.

“Naruto, Miho, get down!”

Miho landed painfully, arm twisting with Naruto as he rolled. Then something heavy landed on her back and she was suddenly on her side. It all happened so quickly that she didn’t even feel the snap of her left arm under her weight. Lying on her side, facing Naruto, Miho cringed. She was to the side enough to be outside of his caged arms, far enough outside to see the blade in his back.

Rolling up, Miho withheld a wince as her left arm jostled— sending sharp waves of pain through her upper arm and shoulder. Damn it. Grabbing the bō in her right hand, she pushed herself up and placed herself between Mizuki and Iruka’s back.

“Useless. What do you think you can do? You just another person trying to convince him—”

“That’s about enough of that, Mizuki. Dramatic as ever.”

The jōnin dropped to the ground in front of her, crouching low.

“Genma! Just what the hell are you doing here?”

“Wh-Why?” Naruto’s voice was so small and hurt and desperate. She moved to the side, glancing down at them. Iruka's eyes were clenched shut in pain. "W-Why?"

Miho shuffled herself backward as Iruka spoke, looking to the jōnin— Genma, she realized— for orders. He watched Mizuki carefully as the enemy dropped down from the trees. The jerk was listening. Listening to Iruka’s words, the way he was trying to comfort Naruto. Miho noticed that Genma was angling, ready to block any oncoming attacks. But Mizuki's attack wouldn't be physical.

“He’s just trying to butter you up so he can get that scroll back. He doesn't care about you. This girl doesn't care about you! He doesn’t mean—”

Mizuki went to his knees, hands going to his throat and his eyes bulged.

Shuffling backwards, Miho could see Naruto’s eyes go wide as Iruka shifted to kneel in front of him, still shielding him from whatever desperate move Mizuki tried next. Sure enough, his remaining shuriken was flying toward Genma and, behind him, Iruka again. While Genma blocked the attack, Mizuki was throwing around stupid words along with kunai, which pierced Iruka’s flak jacket again before Miho was able to throw herself in front of them.

One kunai made it through the shield of her spinning bō, the rest deflected.

It lodged in her left shoulder.

Mizuki seemed to have swallowed the senbon that had been lodged in his throat.

“Why defend him? He killed your family, Iruka! He’ll use that scroll to destroy the village! That’s what monsters do.”

“That is how monsters are, but that’s not how Naruto is. He’s overcome all of his hardships and he’s more of a good shinobi than you’ll ever be. He’s not a monster! He’s Uzumaki Naruto of Konohagakure.” Iruka turned, pulling the large shuriken from his back as he shifted. Miho watched as Genma gave the teacher a side-eye. He made eye contact with her, attention skittering to the kunai in her shoulder before he jerked his head toward Iruka. Miho nodded and knelt down, setting the staff down into the grass.

Naruto was shaking, quivering as he stared into nothing.

“You think I can’t take you all on?”

“You’d be a fool to, considering you just swallowed a poisoned senbon, but hey— you seem like you’ve gotten real stupid lately, Mizuki.” Genma drawled with a small smirk. He shrugged. 

Miho wanted to reach out to Naruto, who was crying, but just as her hand rose— he looked up and at her. His blue eyes were so sad, broken…hopeful.

She saw how understanding registered. It slid over him, slowly falling into place. Like the world was shifting. Genma and Mizuki were fighting in earnest now somewhere behind her. He looked at her face, eyes coming to focus on her shoulder and the blood melting down her nice dress and the kunai lodged there. Then, he looked to Iruka, who was breathing through the pain.

The tears stopped and Naruto stood, drawing the scroll up with him.

Then, in a blink, he was in front of Mizuki, kicking him across the clearing.

Genma stopped short, settling back onto his haunches to watch. He flipped a holster on his hip open, hand poised to start throwing needles. Naruto shot him a look, raising his chin and adjusting his goggles.

“Yo. Let me take care of this joker.”

Miho tried not to laugh, but the huffed snort jolted her shoulder and she grimaced. Iruka did the same, the surprised laugh making him wince.

“If you ever touch either one of them again, I’ll kill you!”

Mizuki scoffed. “I could destroy you in a single move.”

“Yeah? Try it! I’ll take whatever you got and give it back a thousand-fold!”

It was like a dream, watching as Naruto raised both hands to cross two fingers over the other. She’d seen it before, from a different angle, from a different world. She hadn’t done anything to stop it, nothing to actually help. Again. Like so many other things she could’ve affected, but didn’t. Out of fear or… Thousands of Narutos burst into existence around them. Some were on the limbs of nearby trees; some were leaning on their trunks. All of them look pissed.

Genma appeared beside her, kneeling between Miho and Iruka. “Figure I’ll leave the beatdown to him. C’mon, let’s get you over here.” He hauled Iruka back toward a nearby tree stump, angling the teacher so that his back was not scratching the bark. He hurried back to her side, hands fluttering at the kunai. “C’mon over here, little lady. Let’s watch the show. We need to get that stabilized.”

Miho reached up with her good arm and unwound the scarf from her neck. Her brother would understand. “Use this for Iruka-sensei. I’m fine and the kunai’s keeping the blood in, right?”

He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again while she looked back to where Naruto launched upon Mizuki like a— Well, like a maelstrom. The punches and kicks were so hard that there was a flurry of thuds, not unlike the drums from earlier. Miho watched in barely-concealed awe as Naruto fell upon Mizuki with a vengeance.  

“Restraint's not really his thing.” Miho said to no one, glancing back to Genma and Iruka as the former wrapped her scarf around her teacher’s shoulders. “Iruka-sensei, are you okay?”

Her Academy teacher drew his eyes away from Naruto, the pride and adoration clear in them. That emotion hardened a bit when he saw the injury to her shoulder. And then it turned to solid rock when he realized who she was and where she was. “Akimichi Miho! What’re you doing out here? You seriously put yourself in danger!” Naruto and his clones let out a few determined yells, pummeling Mizuki with renewed vigor.

“Naruto was in trouble.” She shrugged, but then gritted her teeth. That was a stupid force of habit. She'd have to stop doing that for a while. “I’m not about to leave him to face something alone.”

“Good.” Genma nodded, settling back onto his haunches. The sun was beginning to rise. He looked at her. “You did good.”

Everything was growing brighter. Miho wondered if it was symbolic, that sunshine. The sunlight. Like the dawn of a new story. Or a new chapter of an old one. A really old one. The significance wasn’t lost on her. In a lot of ways, that sunrise was Naruto. He was sunshine, in so many ways. 

“Stay like that. Damn it. No. Stop moving around Iruka, I swear—” Genma was fussing. Honest-to-goodness fussing. It was said with a sort of put-upon drawl, but it was fussing nonetheless. She adjusted her shoulder again, gritting her teeth as she watched. His attention turned to her and he narrowed his eyes. “Knock it off, Akimichi. Stopping moving your shoulder.”

The clones disappeared from the clear in a collective puff of smoke, leaving Naruto standing over Mizuki’s prone body. Miho felt no little satisfaction seeing the bloody mess of that jerk. Naruto stared at what remained, rubbing the back of his head. Sheepish. He actually looked sheepish.

“I guess I got a little carried away.”

“A little,” Miho nodded.

Naruto ran over, skidding to his knees in the grass. “You okay, Iruka-sensei? Miho?”

“Yeah.” Iruka breathed, but the pain was evident. Naruto turned to her.

Miho batted Naruto’s hand from near the kunai. He fretted with it, blue eyes darkened with concern. Like they always did when he was being serious. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Naruto, seriously…”

“But, Miho! You’re hurt, too!”

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

“Are you serious? It’s stuck in your arm! That’s not a scratch!”

“It’s a scratch!”

"Not a scratch!" 

“Naruto.” Iruka shifted forward. “C’mere a minute.”

Naruto stopped fluttering at her shoulder, turning his attention to their teacher. Miho smiled, diverting her attention to the grass under her good hand. She knew what was coming and felt relief flood her entire body. It felt like an adrenaline high. Or perhaps she was coming off of an adrenaline high. Whatever it was, it felt good.

When she looked up again, Naruto had his eyes closed and Iruka had taken his forehead protector off. He shot her a grin, winking as he tied it around her friend’s head. On the other side of them, Genma slipped a new senbon between his teeth, letting out a low appreciative whistle.

“You can open your eyes. Congratulations, Naruto. You’ve graduated.”

Miho beamed.

She remembered— so, so long ago— watching that moment. It was clearer than many of the other images from the story. A teacher who made a positive difference. A teacher who saw the good in his student. Miho remembered…because it inspired her to be a similar kind of teacher, then and there. In her other life. She always saw the fight was a means to an end. It mattered less than this. That’s why she didn’t remember much of it.

But this?

This was the whole point.

“To celebrate, let’s go out to ramen tonight. My treat!”

Naruto flew forward, throwing his arms around Iruka. Miho winced, knowing how painful that had to be with her teacher’s injury. If he didn’t have the scarf over his wound, the bark might’ve sunk into the hole in his back. Nevertheless, Iruka laughed and held Naruto close.

She hadn’t changed anything. Not really.

Not in any way that mattered...

Maybe that was just how the story was meant to go?

“Beautiful scene, you two. You wanna invite us to ramen too or are we interlopers here?” Miho laughed, shaking her head in amazement. The guy was now leaning back against the tree, grinning down at the pair. He shot her a look, one that was actually a bit chastising. “My guess is that Akimichi there didn’t bring any snacks with her. Which means breakfast is on me. Sage help my wallet. After we get the two of you to the hospital, of course. And that 'joker.'” He pushed off of the tree and walked over to the scroll, grabbing it from the forest floor and throwing it onto his back. If he happened to kick Mizuki in the face while he did so, then no one commented. “And, you know, we might want to return this. I’ve got a feelin’ the Hokage might want it back.”

He walked toward where Naruto was moving back from Iruka, setting the scroll down before him. Miho watched with no little amazement as he handed the scroll over to Naruto.

“I think you should return it, Naruto. Who knows, maybe the Hokage will let you learn another technique since you’re such a quick study. Pullin' off that technique in less than two hours is dang impressive.”

Naruto took it, eyes impossibly wide. Miho felt her breath catch.

Because this was Genma— whoever he really was, she didn't know, but she'd find out— saying something almost as meaningful as Iruka. He was acknowledging Naruto. Miho could barely draw in a breath. What—

“Help your friend, too, Naruto. I’ll get Iruka. We’ll take them to the hospital, okay? We'll leave the trash for ANBU.”

He reached out and ruffled Naruto’s wild blond hair, earning a slightly bemused beam from the boy.

Then, in the light of day, Naruto turned to her and smiled. Broadly, truly, and with as much love as she'd ever seen. Miho returned that grin, eyes closing from the fluff of her cheeks. For the first time in a long, long time, Miho had hope. 

Hope that, just maybe, everything would really be okay. 

Chapter Text

Shiranui Genma leaned against the wall, observing. It was just past six in the morning and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. On the other side of the examination room, Akimichi Miho and Uzumaki Naruto were talking. It was a subdued exchange, far different from what he was expecting of the pranking terror that destroyed his dorm during his days in ANBU. Or the rambunctious heir to Kushina’s legacy. Instead, at that moment, he looked way more like the Fourth Hokage, like Minato.

He knew his teacher’s daughter was actually Chisato and Keisuke’s. When she and her brother were just babies, he’d held them. Just a few months after…everything. That was before he’d thrown himself into ANBU and the world outside of shadow fell away.

“They’re good kids.” Iruka’s voice spoke up, still quiet. Genma shifted the senbon between his teeth and sighed, shoulders sagging. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Ready for breakfast? Yeah, I’m ready. Just waiting for Chōza-sensei to show up.”

Iruka rolled his eyes, hissing a bit as the medic disinfected another kunai wound. Across the room, both kids looked toward the Academy teacher. If he channeled some chakra to his ears, he might’ve heard them. Genma instead read their lips.

“— gonna be okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll be yelling again in no time. Besides, he owes you some ramen, doesn’t he?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Not gonna tell you he doesn’t care about Your Buddy.”

“Buddy?”

She shrugged. “Can’t say it loud and saying ‘Thing’ is rude.”

Iruka drew his attention away. Genma tried not to acknowledge his inner countdown. It was only a matter of time before the Akimichi Clan Head showed up at the hospital. A little bit more time before he needed to submit his report to the Hokage. And shorter time still until his wallet died a horrible death. “Heads-up, Shiranui.” The teacher nodded toward the door.

“Genma! What— Miho! Naruto!”

Chōza-sensei appeared in the doorway, looking a bit winded. Genma could only imagine how scared and frantic the man had been when he realized his daughter was missing. Then, getting an urgent message requesting his presence at the hospital. Pushing off the wall, Genma started forward and then stopped, watching as his former genin teacher rushed toward the children.

Both were swept up in an embrace.

Battle-hardened and one of the deadliest ninja in the village, Genma grinned, remembering how great his teacher’s hugs were. He’d received more than his fair share growing up. Hell, the man even hugged him now. Akimichi were very tactile folks.

It seemed, strangely enough, that Naruto was completely comfortable with the hug. Perhaps even used to it. The rumor mill had done its thing over the years. The Akimichi were saints for taking Uzumaki into the fold. The Akimichi were heathens for forsaking the village to engage with a demon. The latter pissed Genma off.

And if a disciplinary reprimand was in his permeant file from a particularly brutal brawl at a seedy civilian establishment?

Well, the Hokage smiled when he wrote it. 

“What in the world happened? Miho, explain. Now.”

The girl immediately looked to Naruto. Something seemed to pass between them before she sat a bit straighter.

This only made her injury more visible. Genma grimaced.

“You’re hurt!” Chōza hurried forward again, cradling her arm to get a better look at her shoulder. It was all wrapped up, set immobile by stints and bandages. The skin was healed, but the muscle was bruised. A week with limited movement. It could’ve been worse. “You best explain quickly, Miho, before I get impatient.”

Genma resisted the urge to wince.

Because he was a jōnin— an absolutely deadly force— not a genin facing Chōza’s wrath. Or even worse, disappointment. 

“I— Naruto didn’t graduate. Mizuki told Naruto that he could graduate if he stole the Scroll of Sealing from the Hokage. As proof of his abilities. Really, Mizuki was trying to frame Naruto and steal the scroll for himself.”

Genma withheld a snort. That was context, not an actual explanation. He watched with no little amusement as Chōza’s right brow rose.

It was such quiet disapproval that it always felt like a slap to the face. Genma had been on the receiving end of it more than once.

The girl seemed to realize that just context wasn’t going to cut it.

“I went to find Naruto last night. After I ate the Seven, I knew I needed to find him. I knew that he shouldn’t be alone.” She grimaced, looking over toward where Iruka was sitting. The teacher waved half-heartedly. “Iruka-sensei was there. He protected Naruto. Then, a lot happened and I met—”

“‘A lot happened’ is one hell of an understatement.” Genma interrupted.

“Genma. I wondered how you were involved given the summons that showed up on our doorstep.” Chōza nodded to him and Genma took the invitation to step up and complete the story.

“Ran into your girl in the northern forest. Told me the same thing she just told you. I took her at her word and we found Mizuki, being an idiot and a traitor, and everything was just as she said. We’re forgoing the fact that she was out and about during a Level Two.”

Suitably looking chastised, the girl glanced to her shoes.

Still, Genma grinned around the senbon. “She also protected her friend and her fellow shinobi. Literally took a kunai.” He raised his chin and tried to put on his best commanding officer voice. “Still, charging into battle without a direct order might not be the smartest move, little lady. Keep that in mind next time, yeah?”

Chōza actually snorted, the tension melting away. It wasn’t quite gone— How could it be with his daughter injured?— but he eased his stance a bit. “Well, Genma, now you know what it’s like on the other side.”

Genma resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely. After all, he was an elite jōnin. Possessing decorum and all that shit. “Yeah, well, she needs to work on not dropping the stick-of-death or whatever when injured.”

“I’ll work on that,” the girl spoke up. That earned her an amused look from her father. Naruto, for his part, slammed his fist into his palm and smiled. She looked at her friend and sighed. “Don’t start calling it the ‘stick-of-death.’ I’m begging you.”

“‘Bō’ sounds boring.”

“Iruka-sensei, are you alright?” Chōza questioned, seeming used to the bickering that erupted between the two. He tuned them out.

While his teacher went to speak with the Academy instructor, Genma went back to his observations. If anything, it was entertaining. The girl and Uzumaki got along well and had obviously grown closer through the previous night’s events. They settled the debate— Naruto deciding to forgo the battle for the war, Genma suspected— and lowered their voices. Genma leaned against the wall by the door, seeming to study his shoes on the tile. Really, he was eavesdropping.

On a couple preteens.

He’d had better nights and better mornings.

“Your dad let that go pretty quick. Think he’s gonna be mad I stole the scroll? The old man wasn’t. Not really. I could tell.”

She gave an aborted shrug, frowning at his look of admonishment for moving her shoulder. Genma feigned interest in whatever Chōza and Iruka were discussing. “No, I think he’s just happy we’re okay.”

“Chōji’s gonna— Oh shit, Ino’s gonna kill you.”

“She’s gonna kill you too. Don’t think you’re getting out of her wrath.”

Yamanaka Ino, Genma figured. Inoichi’s girl. Akimichi Chōji, Chōza-senei’s son. The two of them, plus Nara Shikamaru, were set to make up the Second Ino-Shika-Cho team. Asuma’s kids. Considering the tone with which both kids lamented, that bearded jerk was in for a time. Genma has half-tempted to place bets.

“Yeah, whaddya think Bushy Brows is gonna say when I tell him you threw yourself in front of a kunai?”

“That I’m full of Youth and am a Beautiful Bosom Friend whom he would Never See Injured lest it affect the Balance of Youth and Beauty in the world.” She laughed lightly at her impression. Genma made another connection— this ‘Bushy Brows’ had to be none other than Guy’s protégé. “Or something like that.”

“And Shikamaru?”

They both grinned and spoke at the same time. “We’re ‘troublesome.’”

Genma wasn’t amused.

Really, honestly, he wasn’t.

Damn it.

“—not all that surprising. Miho’s been protective of Naruto for years.”

Chōza was saying as Genma pushed off the wall to join the adult conversation, just as the medic finished tending to Iruka’s back wound. She bowed and made her way out, saying that the discharge process would be complete once Iruka picked up his prescriptions.

“That group looks out for each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is actually Shikamaru that chastises them into actual guilt.”

Iruka snorted, looking sadly at his ripped flak jacket. Genma felt some sympathy. The death of a favorite jacket was something to be mourned. “Nara Shikamaru is an ace manipulator if he can be motivated to do it.”

“Chōji’s been a nervous wreck all night.” Chōza said with no small amount of grief. “He’s kept his lips sealed about when she left. Gave us some kind of sickness excuse. Couldn’t get a word out of him.”

“Chōji’s a strong one. He’s not the type to back down when he believes in something.” Iruka commented. And he would know, considering how long he’d been their teacher. “He’s loyal, too.” After a moment, Iruka straightened and winced. He held Chōza’s eyes for a long moment. “It’ll be Shikamaru to put them into place. It’ll be Chōji that motivates him to do so. And it’ll be Ino who—”

“Scares all of us into compliance.”

“Mhm. Mhm.” Naruto agreed. He was at her shoulder, circling his arm around her like she was about to fall his direction for some reason. Like some energetic buffer between her and the world. Genma tried not to think that the action was adorable. “Ino’s scary.”

Chōza-sensei chuckled, leaning down to look both kids in the eye, hands propped on his thighs. “I heard that Genma here promised breakfast?” The girl grinned widely, looking to him with wide, excited eyes. Her father sobered. “Do not think that either of you have escaped a discussion about what happened last night.”

Both kids nodded.

“And don’t forget that knowledge of all that must remain a secret.” Genma charged, looking at both children to impress upon them with the importance.

It wasn’t as if the Hokage hadn’t made it clear that Naruto’s secret was absolutely essential to maintain.

When the Hokage had left the examination room, the kids looked to each other and nodded. As if confirming to each other that they got it.

“We understand!”

Genma deflated, feeling for all the world that he was being taken advantage of with his teacher’s presence. He looked to the older man and tried not to grimace. “You’re tagging along, aren’t you? Is this payback?”

Chōza smiled sweetly— so sweet that it made Genma want to run. “Now, Genma, why would I want payback?” He laughed, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. The weight rattled his whole body. “Besides, the way I hear it, karma has already come around to you, my student.” With a rare wink, the Akimichi Clan Head ushered the kids from the room. “Naruto, you’re coming to our house to get cleaned up before Academy. After all, you will meet your team today.”

Staring at the door where they disappeared, Genma let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Iruka practically giggled behind him. The irritating chūnin was definitely amused by this whole affair.

“I’ve seen Miho eat six plates of bacon and seven plates of eggs. It might’ve been more, but I left before I saw the total.”

If he, a very well-respected jōnin and much feared shinobi of Konohagakure, wailed in despair— Well…

“I won’t chastise you for helping a friend. And I won’t punish you for helping Naruto.” Her father stated carefully, hands firmly on his knees as they sat in the living room. Naruto was getting washed up in her bathroom upstairs while Chōji put his orange jumpsuit through the wash. Miho’d taken one look at her brother and felt guilty. “We raised you to be the kind of person that looks out for friends, that protects them. We raised you to care for family. And Naruto is practically family. However, what Genma and Iruka said concerns me.”

Miho nodded, trying to keep eye contact. “I understand.”

“How did you know something was wrong with Naruto?”

“I…could feel it.” It was the truth, somehow. She didn’t want to lie. She lied too much. She'd have to keep lying. “I knew he didn’t pass. I just…I knew that something was wrong.”

“So, you left in the middle of a Level Two.”

Her head shook. “I left before. I was on the street when the alarms sounded. I kept going. Naruto was the reason for the Level Two. I couldn’t leave him out there. I knew I’d get a reprimand or maybe even a dismissal. I went anyway.”

He stared at her, eyes critical. It was rare that her father shifted into his shinobi persona with her or Chōji, but he’d been shaken and he needed to understand why her arm was bandaged and why she now knew one of the village’s biggest secrets.

“Genma said you were barely hiding your chakra.”

Then, she grimaced. “I’m not good at suppressing.”

“He also said that you failed to wait for orders.”

Her mouth opened then snapped shut again. “That’s true.”

“Miho, I understand. I do. But you will have to trust your leaders to know what is right, and to know what actions to take. Trust, it seems, is your biggest obstacle.” She jolted at his tone and the way he pitched his head forward to look her in the eyes. “You are a kunoichi now. You will need to trust those around you. If you cannot start with your brother and your family and your friends, then what?” His lips pulled up in a sad smile. “I fear for you if you cannot trust.”

Her mouth opened again, but she couldn’t seem to force any words out.

All of the various lies that came into her head were too much.

“You did not even trust your brother. I believe that is the part of this that bothers me the most, Miho.” Her father sat back, eyes closing as he took a large, steadying breath. Heat gathered behind Miho’s eyes. “You do not trust him. You do not trust us. In many ways, you do not trust Naruto.”

His eyes opened again, sharp and unwavering.

“Trust is essential if you are to be a good kunoichi. You will have to trust your teammates. You will have to trust your leaders. Lack of trust will get you killed.”

Miho swallowed. The truth was: she didn’t trust her leaders. The Third Hokage had let so, so much go over the years. In many ways, he was at fault for the Uchiha Massacre. He was at fault for Naruto’s treatment. He was at fault for Orochimaru’s actions. He was at fault for Danzo and Root.

How could she trust a leader like that?

And how could she trust that what she knew wouldn’t end with her untimely death?

How could she trust that her literally indoctrinated friends and family wouldn’t out her to the leadership she didn’t trust?

Ino agreed with her. Ino was the only person she trusted implicitly, with no doubts or reservations. Ino knew her better than anyone else, knew what was coming. Ino had already started making her own changes. She was the same at her core, but...

But the time was quickly approaching that her circle of trust would have to expand.

She’d need Ino to help.

As always.

She needed more people to help— beyond Ino.

Her father took her silence as reluctance. His demeanor shifted. He was a patient man and never truly lost his temper with her. This was the most irritated she’d ever seen him. “You should trust family, Miho, if no one else. Have we ever given you any reason not to trust us?”

Unbidden, Miho thought to that day when Naruto was beaten in that alley. How her father, Uncle Inoichi, and Uncle Shikaku would’ve let it happen in the other version of this world. How she loathed that fact. How her father had served on the same ANBU cell as Naruto’s father and yet—

She shivered. She knew that, something that could get her killed. 

How was she supposed to trust anyone?

“We have.”

His voice was a bit fractured and uncertain. Miho flinched.

She’d never been one for hiding. Miho had always preferred to be honest and forthright wherever she could. So.

“I’m not good at politics. I don’t know why you and the other Clan Heads didn’t protect Naruto.” Her father’s eyes widened and his entire gigantic body jerked as if she’d struck him. “I may never understand it. And I…I…I’m sure there was some kind of decree about it. Like how nobody can know, but somehow everyone knows. I’m sure that decree says that no one clan could gain the favor of Insert Powerful Name here. Or something like that. I’m sure everyone expected for him to overcome all of it. I don't know how he was supposed to overcome all of it.”

Her father sat in silence as she gained momentum. The frustration of the past five years building and building and building. The time that Shikamaru and Chōji walked away after Naruto had a mask thrown at him. The time that she and Naruto were thrown out of an Akimichi-owned grill. The time that grocers gave Naruto spoiled milk and bread and he got sick. The horror stories that Naruto told her about the orphanage, stories that he told with a smile.

Stories he told with a smile.

Stories that made her cry for him.

“I’m sure everyone expected that he would just deal with it. I’m good at math. You all grew up together. Your age or close and Uncle Inoichi’s age and Uncle Shikaku’s age. You’re a good man, I know. I know that. And you were probably told that Naruto had to be alone. That it had to be this way. For the good of the village. For the good of the village. But, Papa, what is the ‘good of the village’ when one person is suffering? When a child is crying and hurting and feels trapped and alone, what is the village’s good then?”

She didn’t realize she’d come to stand until she noticed that she was at her father’s eye-level. She stared at him.

“Maybe I’m…stupid. Or something. That I just don’t understand it.”

Nevermind the fact that her words could be taken as the words of a traitor.

He took a deep breath and held it, chest puffing out as his eyes closed. “I…have no excuse.” His eyes opened. “There are…histories at play here that you don’t know. Those histories make his situation impossible.”

But she did know.

And maybe this was one time that she could change something.

This was a gamble.

This was a gamble she’d have to take.

“Papa, please…I—” Terror tore at her stomach and she barely kept herself from shaking. “Can we turn on the privacy seals?”

His eyes widened a bit at the request. The privacy seals were rarely used unless her father was getting an in-house debrief from his teammates or family technique secrets were being shared. She had never requested her father to activate the seals.

At her age, she shouldn’t have had any information that demanded those seals in the first place.

He stood, walking over to the wall where the seal was painted. It glowed green under his palm and the chakra echoed over the space before settling.

“Miho, whatever you say to me is said in confidence. You can trust your father, I swear it.”

“I know, Father.” Miho nodded, trying to conquer the nerves that made her hands shake. He flinched at the formality in her tone. She ignored it.

She curled her fingers around the hem of her dress—which she had yet to change. She'd need help getting washed up and dressed. Blood was still matting the whole left side.

He remained standing, hands holding to his belt.              

“I— I guess he doesn’t know because of Iwagakure? Or…maybe because he might hate his father for what he did to him? Sealing him like that? It doesn’t make sense not to tell him who his parents are.”

Her father was normally a very stoic man, with an easy smile and a relaxed air. All of that was gone. In front of her stood a legendary jōnin who’d destroyed entire battalions during war. His expression was like the edge of a naginata’s blade.

“How did you learn of his parentage, Miho?”

“He contains the Nine Tails. The Fourth defeated the Nine Tails. His last name is Uzumaki and there’s only been two Uzumaki in the village besides Naruto— Princess Mito and The Red Hot Habanero.”

Miho’s voice was shaking.

It was shaking because her father was leaking Killing Intent. He was controlling it, but it was still there. It felt like a knife to her throat. Her father was using Killing Intent on her. 

She weathered it, gritting her teeth.

“You shouldn’t know that, Miho.”

“Why doesn’t he know? Papa— Father, why make Naruto a pariah when he doesn’t have to be? The only thing I can think of is because people would’ve been gunning for him or using him as a political tool. And he would’ve been useless to stop it as a civilian. People would’ve used him or killed him. Or both, I guess.”

“Miho—”

“So, he was isolated. No political leanings, no actual weight. Just a nobody from Konohagakure. No parents. No roots. Sometimes, no food or bad food. And a nobody with no roots and no good food has no enemies. But a nobody with no roots…has no one.”

She shook, staring up at her father. She felt so much older than her age in that moment. The weight of years spent in silence overcoming her in her fatigue.

How long was it since she’d last slept?

Her stomach growled.

“Miho…” He trailed off. The Killing Intent slowly abated and then dissipated altogether. She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry.” His great shoulders rounded forward as he moved to kneel in front of her, large hands coming to cover her own. She saw moisture in his eyes. “I…should not have…”

“It’s alright, Father. It was from fear. I know.”

He nodded but did not look convinced. She wasn’t convinced either, and that fact hurt.

“As for what you have said, you are right. He should have been told. He should know. What I say now is insubordination, against the decree.”

Miho felt that proved her case.

“Naruto would have many enemies if his lineage was known. His father and his mother had many who would want their offspring dead or worse.” He chewed on his lip before nodding. “We have not made many political allies by having Naruto over so often. So, yes. The lack of action was political. And it was shameful. It is shameful. I served his father, had friends and family die to protect him and Naruto’s mother. Each of the major clans sought custody, but no petition was granted. He was too large of a chip, so he sat in the middle of the table.”

Miho felt sick at the illustration of Naruto as a bargaining chip. A bargaining chip was an inanimate object. A bargaining chip didn’t have feelings or needs. Naruto was a person, a child. A living being. He deserved more. He deserved to know who he was. Her shoulder ached as she attempted to roll it.

“Naruto is a person. A good person. He’s not a demon and he’s not a bargaining chip.” Her chin rose as she dared her father to say anything different. “It shouldn’t feel like I’m a traitor to my own village for thinking that.”

It seemed her father had no response to that.

Instead, he lowered his head.

“If I can change things, Papa, change things for the better…I have to start with him. I have to.” She twisted her hands until she was holding his hands. “I am Akimichi Miho and I’m going to protect Uzumaki Naruto with my life. And some day, when he’s the Hokage— because he’s going to be Hokage— I’ll be his guard.” Miho held her father’s gaze when he looked at her once more. His expression was a mixture between proud and horrified and scared. “I’ll guard his back and I’ll guard Chōji’s back. And Ino’s and Lee’s. And Shikamaru’s. I’ll be the rear guard for everyone. Their shield.”

A shield.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

Images flew through her head as she lost focus. The other life surged forward, throwing moving pictures and symbols and stories into her head like a hurricane.

A literal shield.

A literal…shield.

“I’ll be a shield.”

Her father’s breath seemed to catch and Miho felt her heart clench. Grief was painted in his eyes. She didn’t know what ghosts he was seeing, but he was certainly seeing someone else. Perhaps her biological mother? She didn’t know. Miho wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I— I understand, Miho. Protect you friends and family in the best way you know how. I only ask…as your father… that you learn to trust. You can’t do any of this alone.”

Miho nodded and squeezed his hands. There was no resolution in this talk, not really. She hadn’t really told her Truth, but she did speak her mind in a way that she never had before. For now, that was enough. She’d told him her feelings. She’d told him as much as she was comfortable.

Who knew if anything would come of it.

One thing would: Miho now had a goal.

Miho had a plan.

Chōji was giving her the silent treatment. It wasn’t his normal M.O. for disagreements. Normally, Chōji called out things he didn’t agree with. He was truthful and stubborn and determined. Despite his lack of self-confidence, with those he was close to, he would tell them his problem. Her brother was the kind of person to say things straight-out. So, his silence was rubbing her the wrong way.

She’d changed slowly while her mother fretted with her bandages and her ruined dress. Her mother’s tutting continued through the bath. Only once did she bite back a yelp as she slipped on her brown t-shirt.

Her mother had declared that she needed a new outfit to meet her team, but Miho fought against that as much as she could. Her team would need to work with her regardless of her fashion. A brown t-shirt, black pants, and a burgundy obi-like belt was sensible enough without making her feel uncomfortable. If anything, the belt emphasized her size.

Her mother pulled her mass of black curls up and away from her face, tying the forehead protector around her neck.

When she’d stepped out into the hallway, Chōji had been there. He was waiting, eyes sharp and critical. For a moment, he looked a lot like Papa. Her studied the curve of her shoulders, the bags under her eyes, and the bandages around her left arm. When he jerked his head toward the stairs, Miho knew she was in for a long day.

Walking to the Academy was arduous, frustrating, and downright irritating. Chōji was dead silent. Naruto was fidgeting, observant enough to notice Chōji’s quiet seething. Miho— in some random burst from another life— wanted a beer.

“— and then, you know, it was over. Miho was awesome though. Never seen someone take down civilian robbers that fast.” Naruto let out a peal of nervous laughter, scratching the back of his head. “Miho gave them the what-for after that, you know!”

That was one telling of it.

In each telling, the story changed.

Confusion as cover.

Naruto was a master at it.

The story changing each time had Chōji getting more and more agitated. Now, he was frowning and his brows were knitted together. It wouldn’t be long before he lost his patience. She could see all the tells, but couldn’t do anything to stop them.

Naruto bounded along, practically bounding with glee. “Who do you think our teams will be? Being on a team with Miho would be awesome! And maybe Kiba? Or you, Chōji! I’m sure whatever teams we’re on will be awesome! We’ll get awesome teachers too!” Miho tried not to correct him, already knowing everyone else’s teams but her own. “Just as long as I’m not on a team with that bastard Sasuke.”

“Don’t call him that, Naruto. It’s mean.” Miho interrupted. “Choose another name.”

“Wha— Why? That’s what he is.” Naruto threw his arms behind his head and Miho stared at him, not backing down. He blew a raspberry and sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll pick another name, but he’s still a jackass.”

“Never said he wasn’t.” Miho smiled slightly, knowing that dynamic was likely to never change. Sasuke’s path to vengeance and all that wasn’t something she could affect easily. Then again, she didn’t want to help him along it either. “If you get on a team with him, try to be nice. You have to work together.”

“That jerk isn’t gonna be on my team!”

“Miho, I wanna talk.”

Miho stopped, turning to look at her brother’s downcast face. Naruto stopped as well at her shoulder. And, somehow more observant than anyone gave him credit for, took off toward the Academy. She watched him run before he waved over his shoulder. “See ya inside, Miho, Chōji!”

“I’m mad at you.” Chōji said after a moment. Miho nodded. He bristled a bit at her easy acceptance of it. “I don’t like being mad at you, but…Miho, this isn’t fair. It’s not. You knew. You knew something was wrong and I don’t know how you knew. And I’ve been thinking about it. I’m not as stupid as people say I am. Shikamaru’s my best friend. I’m not stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“No, you think I can’t be trusted. That’s even worse.”

Miho swallowed down her kneejerk denial. After her conversation with their father that morning, she recognized how much damage she was doing by keeping her secrets. Perhaps she’d never tell Papa, but Chōji? She’d always planned on telling him, someday, somehow. “I— You’re right.”

He nodded. “It’s good you protected Naruto. I’m not mad at you for that. I can’t be. But there’s something else going on. Something else has always been going on.”

“I’ll tell you.”

That brought him up short and his eyes opened to stare at her. She held that gaze for a long moment before hesitantly reaching for his shoulder. He let her grip it, the anger melting from him and the tension leaving his body as he sagged. All that was left was her tired brother.

“I’ll tell you tonight. I promise. I’ll…I’ll need Ino there. She…She can help. It’s difficult to explain.”

“Ino knows.”

“Ino knows. She knows a lot more than she ever lets on.” Miho chewed on her lower lip. “I didn’t tell you because it’s—it’s a lot. It’s not that I didn’t…don’t trust you. It’s more because— Life won’t be the same after you know. It won’t. After Ino found out, she changed. You change when you know. And I didn’t want you to change. I wanted you to live without knowing for a while. I’m…” Her head shook and she noticed how his eyes fell to the bandages.

“You knowing whatever this is ended up with that. You got hurt.”

“This won’t be the worst of it, Chōji. I’m sorry.”

His head shook and he pulled out his bag of chips, popping a few into his mouth. It was the first snack she’d seen him eat since she returned that morning. “I want to know. You’re my sister and I want to know. You can trust me.”

He held out a chip.

It was an olive branch. Forgiveness.

Miho took it and let her brother walk by her side to the classroom, as if he were guarding her from the world. For that short walk, she let herself believe it. Believe in it. That kind of innocence wouldn’t last for long. She knew she best savor it while it still existed.

Shikamaru was already in the classroom, head resting on his folded arms. Chōji made a beeline for his friend, waking him from his nap to speak in low tones at the back of the classroom. She wasn’t an idiot. With the way Shikamaru’s critical eyes flicked to her and then to Naruto, she knew Chōji was relaying the whole affair from the previous night.

Sighing, she turned to find Ino.

Her friend was waiting, arms crossed and foot tapping. A flash of fright crossed her face before she schooled it away. Ino was a master of emotions— in a way that no one else seemed to notice. She stepped away from the fangirls, flicking her newly cut short hair as she moved. Miho smiled at the style.

It was like when they were kids.

Ino stopped, hands resting on her hips. “You wanna explain or do I just need to beat up anyone that looks at you funny?”

Miho waved her away with her good hand. “You’re a good friend, Ino. And the haircut looks great.”

Her mouth opened to say “I know that” when she stopped, eyes falling onto the bandages and Miho’s stiff posture. “You went to help then?”

“I couldn’t not.”

Ino actually smiled a bit, sinking down into the seat next to her as Miho settled down. Her tablemates had yet to arrive and she wondered if they had somehow failed the exam. She’d actually had confidence both would pass, but… “I— You know, the big changes start now. I don't just mean my hair.” Her voice lowered and she leaned forward to whisper. “We’re going to make it change.”

The Akimichi nodded. “For me, I have a plan. And we need to tell Chōji. Tonight. At twilight, my house.”

Ino sat back, crossing her arms again. “Figured that would come sooner rather than later. D’ya want to show him?”

Miho shrugged, but then winced. Ino sat up straight, eyeing her carefully. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later.”

“I’m sure we will.” Miho accepted her fate there. “Showing him is easier than explaining. And you’ve gotten even better with the Mind Walk technique. You’re a prodigy. It’s no wonder you’re ranked first in the class.” Ino flicked her bangs and grinned. “Anyway, it’s up to you on the other one.”

Miho nodded toward where Shikamaru was speaking to Chōji. His eyes cut in her direction, sensing the attention. When his dark eyes narrowed, Miho cringed. She really was in for it. Shikamaru was the worst when he got on a soapbox.

There was a collective gasp from the rest of the classroom and it seemed to reverberate in the walls. Miho looked down just in time to see Naruto recoiling away from a flushed Uchiha Sasuke. He flung himself backwards as if he’d just been scalded.

“What in the—”

Ino snapped her fingers, drawing Miho’s attention back to her. “Focus, sweet bun.” Rolling her eyes, Miho made sure to keep her eyes on Ino when a raucous fight broke out on the levels below. “I think it needs to be both of them. Shikamaru’s a layabout— and that utterly pisses me off— but there’s no denying he’s a genius. He’ll be useful. Not to mention, he’s capable of chastising basically anyone into compliance.”

Miho deadpanned. “Ino, that’s you.”

“Funny that you say that,” Ino simpered.

Finally, Iruka arrived. Ino patted her head as she moved away, letting Koji settle into his usual seat. He shot her a smile, which turned concerned when he saw the bandages. Miho just smiled in return, knowing that he wouldn’t ask. On her other side, Shino sat down. With a prim nod, he looked toward their instructor.

Thirty. Thirty graduates.

Ten teams.

Historically, that was a large graduating class.

“Your team assignments are final. I don’t want to hear any complaints!” The command was said with such a tone that a couple students— or former students?— cringed.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Miho held her breath for each one. She knew that she wouldn’t end up on Team Ten or Team Eight or Team Seven. Her rank in the class was the top third, but that meant that she was fairly average. And that meant that her team arrangement would be by skills and emphasis rather than academic merit. And she didn’t have history supporting her team structure like Seven, Eight, and Ten.

“Team Five is Akimichi Miho, Koji, and Utatane Tetsuya.”

She turned to Koji and stared for a moment before smiling. This wasn’t so bad. He seemed like a good guy. They’d stayed in their seats for years because the arrangement just worked. He never insulted her and was always polite. He never made rude remarks to anyone and kept his head down to complete his work. Miho was actually pretty pleased. That was until she looked past him to where Utatane Tetsuya was wiggling his fingers in a teasing wave.

“This could either go really well…” Koji trailed off, looking between their teammate and her.

“Or really bad.” Miho nodded, glancing at her teammate’s half-resigned smirk. Behind him, she could see Tetsuya frowning at the lack of attention being paid to him. “I’ll try my best, Koji. I want to make our team work.”

“Same. And if that jerk gets mean…Well, we’ll just show him the error of his ways. ‘Sides, he just doesn’t know how good he’s got it!”

Snorting a laugh, Miho grinned. Koji kept a low profile in class, but she already liked his mentality and his good humor. Opening a bag of chips, she sat back to watch the entertainment of Team Seven’s assignment. Naruto crowed like a loon, beaming at Sakura before deflating like a flan in a cupboard as Uchiha Sasuke was announced.

Team Eight was an obvious tracking team. Inuzuka Kiba, Hyuuga Hinata, and Aburame Shino— the rest of the major clan heirs. Miho wished Shino and Hinata luck with Kiba. Even she had to take breaks from him whenever he was around the boys. Often, she hide with Ino, who scared Kiba more than anyone else in class.

“Team Ten is Nara Shikamaru, Akimichi Chōji, and Yamanaka Ino.”

Ino shot her a smile and a thumbs-up, winking dramatically at Shikamaru and Chōji. The former rolled his eyes and hid his head in his arms. Chōji smiled around a chip, waving at his new female teammate.

Miho quietly nodded in Ino’s direction, catching the intensity of her friend’s expression. She’d seen what she’d been like— then and there. Mean, insulting. Ino had been absolutely appalled at her own actions in that other version.

Her attention was diverted to Naruto, whose shoulders shaking. She knew what was coming, quickly wadding together a piece of paper before pinging at his head across the aisle.

He yelped, batting at the air wildly as he spun around. “Just what’s the big idea?!”

Miho shook her head, holding up her good hand in a ‘stop’ motion.

His mouth opened, shut, and then opened again.

He looked like a fish and Miho grinned, shaking her head again. This time, she tried to convey her sympathy.

Sasuke pissed her off on the best of days, but he was also in so much pain that Miho could barely stand to look at him. 

Or was that because of her guilt?

Finally, Naruto deflated and sank back in his chair. She could see he was muttering, but couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“In the afternoon, I’ll introduce you to your jōnin teachers. You’re dismissed until then. Take the lunch period to get to know your team members.”

Miho turned to Koji. “I brought extra today, if you’re interested?”

“That’s very nice of you. I appreciate it. Hey, Utatane, let’s go eat outside, yeah?”

“Sure, sure. Why not?” Miho tried not to lose her patience with the glance-over Tetsuya gave her. Though, she did notice that his attention lingered on her bandages. “Maybe then Chubs can tell us how she got injured.” Before she or Koji could respond to the name, he was out the door.

“I can—”

Miho waved him off with her good hand before grabbing her extra-large bento. “Don’t bother. ‘Chubs’ doesn’t bother me. Since we’re using descriptors, I guess I can call him ‘Stringbean.’”

Koji let out a guffaw, taking the bento box from her with a joking groan at its weight. Miho didn’t quite know what to make of the politeness, but followed along anyway. “Do I get a nickname, too?”

“You want one?”

“We’ll see what you come up with.”

Tetsuya had somehow commandeered the picnic table farthest from the Academy building, on the other side of the training fields. She wondered if that was why he left so quickly, so he could lay claim to his favorite table before any of his buddies could.

She vaguely noticed that Team Ten was at the picnic table on the other end of the yard, awkwardly sitting around it with food at the center.

“Soooo, Team Five?” Koji questioned, settling down beside Miho. Tetsuya sat on the opposite side, pointedly staring at the food as she unboxed it. “Looks like we’re in this together, folks.”

With a small smile, she moved it to the center of the concrete before handing him a pair of chopsticks. His dark eyes went wide and he took them. She wondered if he knew the significance of Akimichis offering food.

Was it something his grandmother had taught him?

It was only after he’d taken a bite of grilled meat that he nodded:

“Thanks, Chubs.”

“Call me that if you want, Stringbean.” She said it with a note of challenge. Shrugging her good shoulder, she grabbed the soup thermos and spoon. Koji snorted a laugh beside her, falling into rough giggles. “Considering I gotta eat 25,000 calories a day — ya know— ‘Chubs’ isn’t too far off.”

Tetsuya sat with that for a moment. It was obviously new information for him and he was processing it. To be honest, Miho felt him rise a bit in her estimation. He was actually thinking it through. “Wait! Whaddya mean ‘Stringbean’ then?”

Miho just raised her brows and stared at him.

“I’m not a Stringbean. I’m lean and muscular. I’m wiry!”

“Sure, wiry, and Koji’s the shortest person in class.”

Koji choked on his water, barely catching it before it came out his nose. Tetsuya, red-faced and obviously irritated, chewed his rice with an angry tilt to his lips. Miho didn’t know if she was overstepping, but she reached over to pat Koji’s back as he recovered from his first near-death experience on their team.

“You know what Chubs?”

Miho turned, finding the anger gone from Tetsuya’s face. Instead, he looked resigned and, perhaps, a bit excited. She waited, removing her hand from Koji’s back as he muttered his thanks.

“You’re alright.”

Smiling around her spoon, Miho hummed. They settled into an easy sort of rapport, somehow. For all the years that Tetsuya had teased and poked, he didn’t take a single swipe at her weight. Instead, she noticed, he left the higher calorie items in the bento for her to eat. Koji followed his lead, doing the same.

“No way! I’m into that series too!”

“So am I!”

“It’s gotta be fate!”

Miho’s amusement felt like carbonated bubbles in her chest. Koji and Tetsuya fist-bumped, looking to her for confirmation that she was part of this fixation on The Sky Temple series. “Personally, I think The Empire Falls is the best book in the series.”

The two boys whooped. Koji flung an arm around her shoulder while Miho grinned at Tetsuya and fist-bumped his outstretched hand.

“We’re gonna be a good team.” Koji said, raising his cup of water. He waited for Miho and Tetsuya to pick up theirs, holding them up as well. “We’re gonna do this. It’s gonna be hard and we’re gonna screw up, but we’re gonna do this. Team Five! Let’s do it!”

“Team Five! Let’s do it!”

She sat with Tetsuya and Koji in the second row when they reentered the classroom. Behind them, Team Ten sank into their seats. She heard her name whispered as other teams filtered in and she turned to find Ino stretched out over the table, hand already cupped over her mouth. Miho leaned back to let her whisper into her ear.

“Two things. One, we’re telling Shikamaru.” Miho nodded in acceptance, trusting Ino’s judgement. “Two, do you like your team or do I need to threaten them?” Dissolving into giggles, Miho gripped the back of Tetsuya’s chair to keep from falling over. When she turned to Ino, it was to see her sharp attention on Miho’s outstretched hand.

Slowly, Ino grinned.

Then, it was and outright beam.

“Good.”

Miho turned to see Chōji smiling around a chip. His voice had been muffled by his chewing, but he swallowed and then nodded.

“Good, Miho. I’m glad.”

“Team Five’s the best team in this room.” Tetsuya said as he turned around, sitting on the table with his arms crossed. Miho shot Koji a look and huffed. “Don’t you forget it, Team Ten.”

“We’re literally twice you, Utatane.” Ino retorted, mirroring his crossed arms. “No offense, Miho, Koji.”

“None taken.”

“I SWEAR I’LL BEAT YOU INTO THE GROUND YOU BAS—YOU JERK!”

Miho deflated, wincing as her shoulder and arm muscles pulled tight at the motion. Ino shot her a worried glance before looking toward the debacle that was Team Seven. Sakura was looking plaintively toward the ceiling, obviously praying to whatever deity would listen. Sasuke was doing his best impression of an indifferent jackass. And Naruto was riled, arms waving and ears red.

“Yo, Naruto!”

He spun around, ready to shout at whoever’d yelled at him. When he found Miho, he stopped still and his mouth snapped shut. Miho wasn't but she thought she saw a bit of respect from Sakura at Naruto's sudden silence.

“Naruto, Sakura is really, really smart! She’s a good person to have on your team. Have you seen her do chakra exercises? Her control is awesome!”

He pouted for a moment before letting out an excited yell. “Hell yeah! I know she’s awesome! It’s the bas— jerk that I think is—”

“And Sasuke is super good at ninjutsu and taijutsu. He’d be a great person to spar with since your styles are so different.”

“He doesn’t have a style.” Sasuke retorted, shooting her a glare.

Miho didn’t flinch. Instead, she just weathered the look with a warm smile. Behind her, she heard Ino snort. “The absence of a style is still a style if you land the hits.” With that said and the argument somewhat derailed for the moment, she turned to Tetsuya. “You were second to Sasuke in taijutsu, right?”

Startled, he turned to her. His eyes narrowed, but his lips tipped up in a smirk. “You were watching my spars, Chubs? I’m flattered. Yeah, I'm pretty awesome, but...Who would've thought Chubs would be my own personal fangirl?”

Koji nodded, eyes closing as if in thought.

“She literally made you eat dirt when we were seven.”

Tetsuya sputtered, choking on nothing. She heard Koji let out a wheezing giggle that turned into another one of his outright guffaws. It wasn't Koji he turned his ire on; it was her. “I could totally kick your ass, Chubs!”

If she felt the murderous aura behind her, then she ignored it.

“The moment you can actually move me, I’ll believe that, Stringbean.”

“You two are freakin’ adorable.” Koji noted from the peanut gallery. It sounded like he actually believed it. Miho might've flushed at his tone, as if was talking about a bunch of puppies rather than his teammates. “But you may wanna cut it out before Team Ten decides to eviscerate our spirited-- but tiny--teammate.”

“I’M NOT TINY!”

“Alright, alright!” Iruka-sensei shouted, drawing attention. Behind him, a line of jōnin entered the classroom. Miho recognized two immediately— Sarutobi Asuma and Kurenai. Then, her attention landed on a familiar face. A face she'd only seen a few hours before.

His senbon shifted between his lips before he grinned around it, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Shiranui Genma.

When the first shinobi who entered— a stern-looking man with a large scar on his throat— got Team One, Miho did the math. He was watching when the realization hit her and she noticed the slightest bit of amusement. As soon as the pieces clicked into place, he winked. Miho felt a bit reassured at the obvious confirmation. He wasn't trying to be mysterious about it at all. She wondered if he'd known the previous night when he found her in the forest. 

This would be okay. This would work.

“Team Five— you’re with Shiranui Genma.”

“C’mon, Team Five. Let’s go.”

She followed Koji, throwing a smile back at Team Ten. Ino winked and gave a thumbs-up while her brother waved with a chip in his hand. Naruto waved as well, looking a bit lonesome and put-out and eager at the same time. Miho forced away the guilt at his expression. There was no way she would’ve gotten onto his team. Not with her skills.

“Okay, so… I’m Shiranui Genma. You can’t quite call me Genma-sensei yet, but we’ll talk about that in a minute.” He paused when they were outside, hand rising to block out the sunlight. She glanced to her teammates. Tetsuya seemed interested while Koji, despite her expectation otherwise, looked suspicious. “Let’s go get something to eat. How about… takoyaki? I know a place.”

Offering food to a team with an Akimichi was a tradition. She expected Team Ten’s teacher would do the same. It went vice versa when an Akimichi was a teacher. The Akimichi teacher would cook. It was a way of honoring the importance of Akimichi supplies to the village, like how the Uzumaki were honored in the village’s symbols. Food was symbolic. Food held a lot of meaning.

She took the takoyaki gratefully, nodding her thanks.

“So, let’s do the get-to-know you stuff. I’ll start us off, okay?” If he was nervous, he hid it well behind an impartial façade. There were no tells. Not like Tetsuya's bouncing right leg or the twitch in Koji's jaw. “Like I said, I’m Shiranui Genma and I’m a tokubetsu jōnin. My favorite food is pumpkin broth. I love travelling and learning about other cultures.”

“Least favorite food?” Koji questioned, still a bit standoffish.

“Nah, not yet. That info can be used against me.”

Miho giggled a bit, shaking her head. She could probably find out from her father. That made her start.

Her father was his teacher. Did her father ask him to—

“Go on then.”

“I’m Koji. Just Koji.” Miho felt him tense next to her, but she couldn’t figure out why. “My favorite food is grilled fish. My least favorite food is spinach. My hobby is woodworking. And I like to read.” He looked toward Miho, expectant. He wasn’t even giving their teacher time to respond.

Miho raised her brows at Genma, waiting to see if she should disclose anything or not. Instead, she went for generic association. It was up to him to decide otherwise. After all, he was their leader now. “I’m Akimichi Miho. I have a lot of favorite foods, but I can be best tempted with takoyaki and ice cream.”

“Noted,” Tetsuya commented. This got Koji to snort.

“I hate ikayaki. My hobby is reading and studying and I love learning about history.”

She turned to Tetsuya and waited.

“Utatane Tetsuya here. I like grilled pork and I hate, hate seafood. I like swimming and reading and— Well, comic books.” He looked to her and Koji like they were going to laugh at him. When they didn’t he relaxed and folded his arms behind his head, looking pleased as punch.

“Okay, so you’re a bunch of nerds.”

Miho barked a laugh while Koji’s jaw dropped and Tetsuya froze. Genma-sensei seemed amused, even if he wasn’t showing it. Just the slightest tick of the muscle on the right side of his mouth. If he was trying to be intimidating, it wasn't working. She'd seen him intimidating before, in the battle the previous night. This was nothing compared to that.

“We’re already planning to form a book club.”

This time, it was his mouth that fell open.

Then, he palmed his forehead. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” After a moment, during which the three kids shared triumphant looks, he sat back and crossed his arms. “Here’s the deal, Book Club.” Koji’s elbow slipped out from under his head and he catapulted forward. “You have one more test before you’re on the team. If you don’t pass the test, then you fail and you’ll be sent to the Genin Corps. If you wanna move along as a unit, then you pass the test. Got it?”

They nodded, eyeing each other.

“The test will take place tomorrow morning. Zero-six-hundred. You’ll learn more then. Until then, talk amongst yourselves and…I wouldn’t suggest eating breakfast.”

He disappeared with his plate of takoyaki, like he’d never been there in the first place.

Miho felt the tension building in her chest before she growled. “That’s SACRILEGE!” Quickly turning back and forth between the boys, she emphasized each word. “Do. Not. Skip. Breakfast. Tomorrow. That’s a load of bullshit!”

“Language, Chubs.” Tetsuya lightly admonished, leaning back against the wall to get a better view of his teammates. “Maybe we should, I dunno, listen to our teacher?”

Koji moved to the other booth, shrugging his shoulders as he slipped onto the creaking leather. “Could be about following orders.”

“You can’t perform well without nutrition. This was in standard mission prep procedures. Remember? Why do you think there are Akimichi nutritionists retained for each of the platoons? Hell, there’s a nutritionist specifically for jōnin to monitor their caloric intake. This is a trick!”

Koji stared at her before flicking his eyes to Tetsuya. “What’s your take, Beansprout?”

“It’s Stringbean,” Tetsuya corrected automatically with a flick of his hand. Miho saw Koji wink as he took a bite. “And I buy what Chubs is sayin’. Seems kinda stupid to go into an unknown situation with no food.”  

“We need to catalog our skills. And we need to figure out where we’re supposed to meet this dude.”

Miho stopped short, stick halfway to her mouth. “You’re right! He didn’t say where to meet.”

“Mark ‘observation’ as one of Koji’s skills.” Tetsuya commented. “What else you got up your—” He stopped and stared at Koji’s lack of sleeves with a perplexed expression. “What else do you got in that hat?” With triumph, he popped a pepper into his mouth.

“Loads of stuff, Beansprout.”

Miho snorted.

“After we get done eating, let’s head to that bookshop on Market Street. The one with the purple sign? They’ve got a sitting area we can plan in.”

"We're going literal book club?” Miho questioned, raising her brows. She wondered how she'd come to love her team so quickly. It always felt like it would be a burner team. Every time she imagined it, she didn't think she'd do well on a team. Not when all of the other teams seemed to struggle so terribly. 

Koji grinned. 

“Let’s go ‘Literal Book Club'.”

Of all the ways Team Five could have gone, Miho had never expected this. Her concerns about Tetsuya were put away, replaced by the respect needed for good teamwork. And Koji was quickly coming out of his shell. It was only around their teacher that his defensiveness showed up, even then it was like a controlled burn. A bit of smoldering heat. She’d spent the entire afternoon holed up in The Kunai’s Edge bookshop on the corner of Market Street and the Eastern Road. They catalogued their skills and weaknesses. The got to know each other more.

She was a long-range fighter with good skills in taijustu and bōjustu. Tetsuya was a short-range fighter with excellent skills in taijustu and genjustu. Koji was a mid-range fighter with mediocre skills in taijutsu and pin-point accuracy in marksmanship with kunai and senbon. They’d settled on meeting at Training Ground Five, taking a risk that each team would be assigned to the corresponding field. Common sense, she figured, was their first test.

Miho knew…They could make it work.

Koji’s nickname developed when he’d picked up a book about woodworking.

“Woodchuck.”

If Koji threw the book at Tetsuya’s head, then she sure didn’t get up to stop it.

Now, she felt the nervous energy fluttering in her stomach as she drew nearer and nearer to the Akimichi compound. Ino’s gold hair was obvious from half-a-block away, shining in the evening sunlight. Beside her, Shikamaru was leaning against the wall, head bent down as if he were napping standing up.

Knowing him, that was entirely possible.

“If your teammate starts calling you ‘Chubs’ nonstop, Chōji’s gonna burst a blood vessel.” Ino commented with a wave. “Please tell me you put a stop to it.”

Miho smiled. “His nickname is ‘Stringbean’ now and he’s ‘wiry.’”

Shikamaru lost his balance and stood upright, eyes open. “You’re calling him ‘Stringbean?’” An almost sinister smirk broke on his face. “Chōji’ll love that.”

“I actually like my teammates a lot. We’re a good match.”

“Good.” Ino threw her arm around Miho’s good shoulder. “I didn’t want to use force, but I could’ve if they were anything less than gentlemen. C’mon, Shikamaru.”

“Bossy woman, just why am I here anyway?”

“Secret reasons. Just follow us.”

Miho reached over and grabbed Ino’s shirt, funneling all of her nervous energy into her grip. Ino patted her head, moving toward the gate. Ino was now almost her height, with an even bigger personality. “We going to the archive then?” Miho nodded and glanced back to see Shikamaru grudgingly following along. He was dragging his feet and looking particularly petulant.

“If we all do what you say, are you just gonna bait us with whatever the hell’s going on or are you actually gonna trust us?”

Miho barely kept Ino from whipping around, keeping a firm grip on her friend’s shirt. That was the shot from Shikamaru that she’d been expecting all day.

Chōji stepped out onto the porch as they approached the house, two bags of chips in his hands. He moved down the stairs and handed her one, opening it as he did so. His open eyes flicked to Shikamaru, who came to his side.

“So, you’re telling Shikamaru too?”

“I— I didn’t want—”

“That was more my decision than hers. She let me decide. He should know.” Ino interrupted, looking to Chōji with a bit of edge in her stare. “Team Ten should know. You’ll…You’ll see why.”

“See?” Shikamaru questioned before his eyes widened. Ino raised her brows, waggling her fingers. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” Miho sighed. She jerked her head toward the direction of the old archive.

When they arrived in the small alcove study room on the western side of the clan archive, Miho rested a hand against the doorframe. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pushed chakra into her palm, and then, into the wood. She felt it pulse and she opened her eyes to see the green chakra fading. The room was sealed, impervious to sound. Turning, she tried to collect her whirling, terrified thoughts.

This was unfair.

To them.

They’d never live without this knowledge.

She locked eyes with Ino and frowned. “I…Maybe we should give them a choice?”

Ino huffed, crossing her arms as she fell into one of the examination table chairs. “I guess.” There was a subtle note of that is more than what I had but Miho tried to ignore it. She sometimes wondered if Ino hated her for what she saw and what she knew. Ino had said otherwise hundreds of times. “Once you guys see this stuff— what Miho knows— you won’t be the same. You have to live with it, change with it.”

Ino knew more than anyone. Her short hair was a testament to that.

“Whaddya mean ‘what Miho knows’?” Shikamaru questioned, uncharacteristically serious. He looked to Miho for the explanation, crossing his arms. “Context is important.”

“I want to see.” Chōji stepped forward, leaving the bag of chips on the table. He reached for Miho’s good hand. He pressed every bit of emotion into his fingertips as if willing her to realize that he was serious. That he meant it. That he wanted her to trust him. “Whatever’s been haunting you, I want to know.”

Shikamaru sighed, nodding. “Why do I get the feeling that this is gonna be troublesome?”

“Because it is.”

Ino gestured toward the two chairs. “Have a seat, boys.” As they sat, Ino turned to Miho and pulled her into an embrace. Both boys stayed quiet when Miho’s forehead pressed into Ino’s shoulder. She shook like a leaf. Like a leaf caught in an onslaught. “It’s fine. They’ll understand. They’ll see. Then, you’ll have more than just me.”

Forearm braced on her good shoulder, Ino patted the back of her head with her other hand.

“Trust me.”

Chapter Text

Shikamaru flew out of his chair, kunai held at the ready. He stumbled back and the wood bench scattered across the stone floor. The noise jolted him. Frantic, his narrowed eyes looked for a threat that wasn’t there— in the corners, at the windows, in the room. His chest heaved. Then, recognition flooded his face. With a shake, he lowered the kunai to his side. Miho could still see how white his knuckles were on the hilt.

Chōji’s eyes opened, tears welling in them immediately as one arm rose to lay over his eyes. Miho felt her stomach clench as he sobbed. His entire body was quivering. She felt so sick. So, so sick. It felt like something terrible was writhing and rolling in her gut.

It was difficult to fight away the urge to cry, seeing them both so shaken.

She caused this. This was her fault.

Ino fell back into the chair Miho had placed behind her, sucking in big breaths of air through her nose. Her hand rose to press against her forehead while her entire body sagged. She’d severely taxed her chakra, Miho knew. This was so dangerous.

She never should have asked. This was her fault.

“It’s— It’s done.”

“Mi— Miho…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It’d been this way since they were babies.

If Miho cried, Chōji cried. If Chōji cried, Miho cried.

It seemed she still couldn’t shake that weakness. She couldn’t see through her tears and she fought not to sob like she did when she was a little girl. Her good hand rose to wipe her cheeks. Over and over and over. She didn’t have a right to them. She didn’t just see what they saw. She’d seen the same things for years. She knew what to expect. She knew the horrors.

Now, she knew horrors like the lines in her palm, foretelling a future nightmare.

It shouldn’t bother her anymore. She needed to be stronger than this.

“Miho, I— That was…That was impossible.”

“Obviously, it’s not.” Ino responded to Shikamaru, pulling a bit at her short hair. She pushed out of the chair and came to Miho’s side. She knew Ino hated tears. More often, Ino hated tears that she couldn’t do anything about. “C’mon. It’s okay. They’re shaken up, but they’re fine.”

“We’re not fine.” Shikamaru retorted, drawing in a large breath before expelling it so heavily that he seemed to physical deflate. He settled a hand on Chōji’s shivering shoulder. “Definitely not fine.”

Miho took the sleeve that Ino gave her, trying to calm her panic. This was close to what she expected, wasn’t it? After all, Shikamaru had just witnessed the death of his father and Chōji had just seen the horrors of war. He’d just seen their father flat on his back, still as death. He’d seen thousands massacred and flashes of light on the horizon. As a thirteen-year-old. Miho pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing.

Selfish. It was selfish to drag them into this. How could she be so selfish?

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Keep up your training.

Do your best when it all goes south.

It was a meditation technique that Elder Torifu taught her when her nightmares made it impossible to focus on training. The same words, over and over and over. Strike, block, spin. Spin, block, block. Strike, strike, spin. Again.

“Naruto’s—”

“A hero.” Ino finished for him, not allowing him to finish what could have been a negative thought. She puffed herself up to look bigger than her wiry frame allowed. Miho always thought it was funny when she did that like an angry rooster hellbent on proving it could win. “He’s a hero.”

Shikamaru leveled her a dull stare. Miho almost laughed, and might’ve if the atmosphere in the room wasn’t so tense. Shikamaru had been closer to Naruto for years.

“I was about to say that too, if you would’ve let me finish. Troublesome woman.”

Ino shrugged her narrow shoulders, settling now that Miho’s panic attack had abated. “Might not’ve been your first response. Probably wouldn’t be many people’s response right now. I mean, obviously, it would’ve been there and then. You came back from the dead for him.”

If her voice shook at that, then nobody acknowledged it.

Shikamaru certainly didn’t.

He put away the kunai as if just realizing that he was holding it. He looked a bit ashamed as he slid it back into his holster.

“That was a whole different world. Your past life.”

“I-It was.”

“You died.”

Chōji’s voice was quivering. Tears were still streaming down his great cheeks and over his clan-markings. Miho bit the inside of her lips to keep herself from crying again as she watched him try to gain control. Water seemed to drip from his nose as he quickly brought both shoulders up to his face.

“You died, Miho! You d-died and Pa almost died! Shikamaru almost died! Our teacher died! We just met our teacher! He-He has-had a little— a little girl!” Chōji was quickly falling into a panic attack. Shikamaru’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t helping. Miho moved across the room in an instant, rubbing his back in circular motions. It was the only way to calm him when his sobs became this powerful.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Shikamaru’s okay. Papa’s okay. We’re all okay. None of what you saw has happened yet.”

“Y-Yes it did! You died.”

Sucking in a breath, Miho fought away the images. Upside down, the pain under her right breast, the winds and rain. It haunted her, sure. Still. She still woke up choking on blood. That didn’t matter though. Chōji needed her to be calm. Chōji needed her.

“She died. I’m me. You can mourn her. The ‘me’ there. She’s not me, but she’s still here. She’s me. Yeah, though, she did die. It was terrifying, but…I’m still here.” She stopped rubbing the circles as his tears abated dried and he looked up at her. Smiling a bit, Miho dragged her palm over his cheeks. “The nightmares, Chōji. All of this. These things are the nightmares.”

It wasn’t all of the nightmares.

No, the other ones she would keep to herself.

Under lock-and-key. She’d hide it, keep it away from the world.

The room fell into tense silence.

“There was no way you could’ve stopped the Uchiha Massacre.”

Lifting her head, she stared into Shikamaru’s sharp gaze. It felt as if she’d been struck. She wondered just how much Ino had shown them, how much she let them know. Her heart stuttered, sending a nervous thrill through her shoulders.

“There was no way it could be stopped. Not by you.”

She glanced to Ino, wanting an apology or a shrug. Instead, Miho found raised eyebrows and crossed arms. A firm “I told you so” painted on her face. And, though Miho had never hit a friend outside of a spar, she was sorely tempted to cross the space and clock Ino with a right hook.

“That whole situation was troublesome, too deep and too old.”

Miho didn’t respond, turning back to Chōji. She needed an anchor. She needed something stable she had to stand for or she was going to fall. He was steeling himself now, she could see, like he always did when his convictions won out against his fear.

“How do we stop it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

Ino snorted, shaking her head. “We can’t stop all of it. If we stop too many things earlier on, we won’t be able to predict anything.” She gestured vaguely toward Shikamaru. “Wouldn’t the butterfly effect apply here or something?”

“There’s already waves just by Miho’s presence. She wasn’t in that version, was she? She’s already changed all of our stories, somehow.”

Stories.

Miho flinched.

She was like Chekhov’s Gun, constantly firing at anything that moved.

She stepped away from Chōji, moving toward the window at the back corner of the archive room. The sun had disappeared over the horizon and there was only a scant amount of light left. Soon, they would need to go their separate ways. Soon, she’d need to go back to performing.

“The Chūnin Exams. That’s where things start to go off-the-rails.”

“That looked like a drag.” Shikamaru groaned.

“What about the blank spots?” Chōji questioned.

Miho sighed. “I forgot, or she did. Or she didn’t watch or read all of it. Like when you only remember bits and pieces of a book.”

“You only remembered the highlights.”

“Or her favorite characters.” Ino smiled, but it was fond. Then, her smile faded. It faded until it was cold. “She saved those memories, the ones you saw. She can’t remember much of her own past life because of it.” Ino supplied, sounding guilty. She shouldn’t sound like that. Miho knew she would’ve lost so much more if it wasn’t for Ino’s help. “What I showed you was all she can remember.”

“I don’t want to remember any of it— the past life.” Miho sighed. “It hurts.”

That statement hung above their heads for a long moment.

“The Chūnin Exams. I’ll think of something.”

That was the equivalent of having Shikamaru’s 100% buy-in and support. Miho turned to look at him, lifting her chin just a bit at the challenging expression his face. She knew he’d hidden most of his reaction to the onslaught, but his kneejerk response had been telling. Shikamaru was like a deep river. Still waters run deep and all that.

And Shikamaru was dependable. She knew that.

Maybe this time around, he wouldn’t try to sleep through the invasion.

“I know you will.”

Shikamaru nodded.

“There’re a lot of major players.” Chōji finally grabbed the chip bag from the table, popping one into his mouth. He sighed around it, savoring the salt and onion flavor. She could practically taste it and her mouth watered. She was way behind on her calories for the day. She’d have to do a carb and protein sprint that evening to make up for it. She had 15,000 calories to make up for. “The four of us aren’t enough.”

“Not everyone can know. That’d be too dangerous.” Ino responded. Her tone wasn’t unkind, but it was short-tempered. “You think we haven’t thought of that? Hell, we spent almost a month thinking about telling the Hokage. You can see why we didn’t.”

“Aside from the fact that you know way too many S-class secrets?”

“We know way too many S-class secrets and, yeah, Shikamaru, aside from that.”

“We couldn’t think of a valid way to explain it that wouldn’t end with both of us in a cell or tortured by T&I, nevermind that Ino’s dad runs that place.”

Ino grimaced, looking away.

She hated keeping this from her father.

Miho understood.

Miho understood that well.

“What a drag.” His expression shifted thoughtful. Miho had always been fascinated with how his mind worked. She expected he already had four or five strategies in the works. Even if he hadn’t fully processed everything he now knew. “Telling the Third wouldn’t go well. Telling the Fifth…”

“Let’s table that for now.” Miho nodded. She was finally feeling as if she had her feet under her. She had herself under control. The surprise at the sheer volume of information Ino dumped into them was still overwhelming, but she’d parce through that later. “We’ve got some time. Not much, but some. We can figure out the best course once you both have time to…think.” 

Chōji looked up again, talking around his mouth full of chips. “You are my sister, Miho.” The statement caught her off-guard. His eyes were sharp still. He’d been thinking everything through, reaching his own conclusions. “Ino showed us everything.”

Miho’s breath caught and she glanced to Ino, trying to find some solace with her. Her best friend wouldn’t meet her eyes for a long moment, but when she did, Miho felt the world tilt. It seemed today just wasn’t going to give her any respite whatsoever. All of the secrets would come out. Apparently, Ino thought this was another band-aid that needed to be ripped off.

She tried not to feel hurt by it.

“You should’ve asked me.” Miho said.

Ino was ruthless when she felt she needed to be. Even if she looked tense and a little remorseful, she didn’t break eye contact. “You would’ve said no. Like you always do.”

Closing her eyes for a moment, Miho shifted her feet so that they were squarely beneath her shoulders. A deep breath, like she was centering for a bō spar. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Find the center of gravity.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the center of gravity staring back at her.

“Yeah, Chōji, I’m your sister.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since I turned eight.”

“Summary,” Ino inserted. Everyone’s eyes went to her. “A war is coming by the time we’re sixteen or seventeen. It’s massive and world-ending. The moon is somehow involved. We need to protect Naruto and somehow protect ourselves too. There’s about twenty different S-class secrets you now know. And we’re walking among dead people until we see this through.”

Ino dusted off her pants and stood.

“And Miho’s adopted. Now, we need to get a move on. We’ve got a lot of preparing to do if we’re gonna survive this. And if we’re gonna help our friends and family make it out the other side.”

Chōji rose to his feet as if he was called to do so. Shikamaru, somehow, didn’t comment on what a drag all of this was. Instead, he nodded and then his brows pulled together in question.

“What was that song we heard?”

Koji was already three eggs into the meal when Tetsuya arrived to their spread-out picnic blanket. Miho gestured toward the edge, handing him a protein-enhanced omelet and a small canteen. They were at the edge of Training Ground Five, camped until a large pecan tree. Miho’d finished her morning routine at five, returning home to shower and dress before arriving at the training field thirty minutes prior to the scheduled time.

Lee had not returned from his mission, but she ran their usual circuits anyway. Sticking to the advice of the hospital, Miho kept her arm weights off and didn’t do her usual upper body sets. Instead, she focused on lower body and endurance.

“You didn’t eat, did you?”

Tetsuya had the good sense to look chastised.

“Trust me, Stringbean. My family may not look like it, but we’re the leading nutritionists in the Shinobi Nations. We know what we’re talking about. I packed your omelet with protein-enhancing herbs and additions.”

“Thanks, Chubs.” Tetsuya nodded, scarfing the whole thing down in minutes. When he finished, he sat back and rubbed his stomach appreciatively. “You always cook that good?”

“Kinda hard to be an Akimichi and not know how to cook. We start learning when we’re little.”

“My Da started teaching me woodworking when I was three.” Koji said, tone a bit wistful. “I…was thinking last night.” He shifted, moving to his knees at his corner of the picnic blanket. “You use a bō, right? I can hewn one for you, if you want.” Miho’s mouth opened, but Koji wasn’t done yet. She sensed a shift in the set of his shoulders. “Tetsuya, with your close combat style, I could make you some wooden tonfa.”

She smiled around the four strips of bacon in her mouth as Tetsuya’s eyes widened comically before he threw himself across the blanket and into Koji’s arms. Poor Koji was caught completely off-guard and toppled sideways, batting his attacker away.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s just big ol’ Koji makin’ his teammates some sick ass weapons. Ain’t nothing that remarkable about it!”

This accent was new. It sounded like a mountain dialect. She’d never heard him use it before in all her years sitting next to him in class. Strange. Miho filed that away in her mind and reached over to ruffle Tetsuya’s hair with her good hand. He stilled and looked her way from under the fringe of his brown hair.

“You two are cute.” She nodded at Koji. “I would love to have a bō created by my teammate.”

“What if we don’t pass?” Tetsuya questioned. At Koji’s raised eyebrow, he scuttled backward and raised his hands. “I mean, I am sure we’re gonna rock it and do awesome and all, but you know, what if— he doesn’t let us go forward?”

Miho stared at him, completely unused to seeing this kind of honesty and genuine concern from Tetsuya. Trying to reconcile this with the bully she knew when she was younger was an odd adjustment, but not an unwelcome one. She rolled her shoulders. “Well, I’d say we’ll figure out another way to work together.”

“Chyeah, the Book Club can’t be broken up like that.” Koji snapped his fingers. “We’ll just have to figure out another way.”

Tetsuya nodded and grinned, raising a fist. “Then I’ll take those tonfa, Koji-my-man. We’ll be the most badass team with wood weapons out there.”

“So, what’s my present then?”

Miho jumped, yanking a kunai out of her pouch. She felt the boys behind her, knowing they had also moved into defensive stances. Standing over her was Shiranui Genma with a placid expression and his ever-present senbon rolling to the corner of his lips.

“No present for your teacher? Gotta say, I’m disappointed. Maybe I won’t pass you after all.”

Body going slack, Miho put the kunai away and settled back onto her butt, watching her teammates do the same. Tetsuya was clutching his chest like he was clutching pearls, eyes now suspicious and alert. Koji still hadn’t put away his kunai, but it sat in his clenched hand on his thigh.

“What do you mean ‘after all’?” Miho wondered, pulling herself up to stand. “What about the test?”

“Eh, you already passed. Only idiots wouldn’t eat breakfast before a mission. Check. You figured out to come here. Check. You’re already talkin’ about stayin’ together even if you’re not a team. Check. You cover each other’s backs and you’re already bein’ all cute with your matching outfits. Just what the hell am I supposed to do?” His eyes widened and Miho thought for sure that he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders, easing both hands into his pockets. “So, Team Five, you can call me Genma-sensei.”

“Hell yes!” Tetsuya cried. Miho didn’t expect for him to collide into her side, dragging Koji with him. “Team Five, ride or die! Book Club, let’s get it!” It was their first group hug and she smiled so wide her eyes shut.

“Book Club, let’s get it!”

Miho really thought no less of Genma-sensei when he put a palm to his forehead, even if she joined in the cheer.

“Alright then, nerds. Sparring. I need to get a read on your skills. Koji, you’re with me first. I want you to come at me with intent to kill. Miho and Tetsuya, taijutsu-only over there. No chakra. First blood wins. Don’t overextend your shoulder, little lady.”

Rolling the still-sore shoulder, Miho nodded. She and Tetsuya walked to the far side of the training field, all the while watching as Koji got into stance.

“Do you want me to fight with a handicap? Keep it even?”

Her kneejerk response was a sneer, thinking that he was trying to insult her, but she snapped her mouth shut when she turned. Tetsuya’s face was completely sincere, eyes focused on the bandages.

“No, I won’t have that kindness on the battlefield.”

He nodded, jaw tensing. “First one to draw blood buys takoyaki?”

That was the reverse of how it should be. The first one to bleed should buy, by normal standards, but he didn’t waver or correct himself.

Miho grinned and lowered herself into the Akimichi taijutsu style, squaring her shoulders, lowering her top half and her center of gravity. She’d always thought that Lee’s style was prettier, with graceful leg sweeps and follow-throughs. Lee’s fighting style was like dancing. By comparison, hers was rough. It was all about taking strikes and funneling that energy into her body fat. It was about takedowns and strength.

“You really know how to motivate me, Stringbean.”

“You’re not putting me in the dirt again, Chubs.”

It seemed they both sensed the “Begin.”

Lee always said that the style reflects the person, that you could understand another person at their most base level just by fighting hand-to-hand. She knew that well enough from training with Lee. His heart was good and dedicated and every hit reflected that.

Tetsuya’s hits were confident and, somehow, desperate. Miho swung underneath a right hook and dove forward, hooking him around the center before throwing him down onto his back. He was up again in an instant and her ears were ringing. He was also fast. Like a contortionist or a gymnast.

Miho could take hits.

It was the benefit of the Akimichi build. Heavyweights were like tanks. Build to suffer damage from repeated hits before firing off a devastating finishing blow. Miho didn’t dodge as much as Tetsuya, accumulating about three punches to her gut within the first few minutes. But three of his hits didn’t hurt nearly as much as when her fist landed on his jaw.

Tetsuya flew back, landing in a crouch about ten feet away. “What the hell was that? No chakra.”

Miho felt a bit smug. “I didn’t use chakra.”

Her leg weights were slowing her movements considerably, but she still crossed the gap faster than Tetsuya could get his arms up. Tetsuya leaned back to dodge, still somehow maintaining his balance, whipping around to throw a kick into her back. Miho grimaced but didn’t budge, spinning to throw her knee into his stomach. The weights increased the force of her kick.

When he struck the tree, the bark cut his cheek.

Miho jumped over, landing by his side and kneeling. “You okay?”

“Ouch. Damn, Chubs.” He sat up, rubbing at his face. There were bits of wood and bark in his hair. Shaking it out, he felt at the scratch and pulled his fingers away to see the blood. “You’re buying takoyaki today.”

“Tetsuya, you’re a natural at evasion and aerials. We need to get you started on weight training. Your hits are fast, but they’re not hard. Your speed is your greatest tool and we’re gonna develop it.” Miho looked up to see Genma-sensei standing over her and her teammate. She glanced behind him to see Genma-sensei still battling Koji, who threw up a wall of earth between him and their teacher. “Your flexibility would be useful if you took up kenjutsu.”

“Swords?” Tetsuya sat up a bit more, dark eyes sparkling at the idea. “Really?”

“Not my wheelhouse. We’ll see what we can figure out.”

The ground shook and Miho glanced back again to see Koji pushing himself up from a crater before collapsing again. She was running in the next second, skidding on the grass to press a hand to his chest.

“Stay still for a second, Hoss.”

His bleary eyes looked up at her, brows contorted in confusion. “Is— Is that my nickname?” He chuckled, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Is it my concussion? I don’t know that word.”

Miho struggled for a second, trying to think of an explanation. The word just came into her mind, like lyrics to a song she didn’t know or thoughts that were decidedly not hers. The word felt familiar, endearing. Like she’d heard loved ones say it before, in a language that was not her own. Swallowing down the panic, Miho nodded and forced a grin.

“It’s another word for ‘horse’! Like you’re strong!”

“Hoss, huh? Okay…It’s original. Better thank ‘Stringbean.’”

“Ohm, screw you, Woodchuck.”

Genma-sensei sighed, kneeling down to look over Koji. Surprisingly, whereas he was standoffish before, Koji didn’t draw away from their teacher. “What is with you three and nicknames?”

“You want the logical explanation or the fun one?” Tetsuya questioned, plopping down onto the grass nearby.

Their teacher rolled his eyes. “It was a rhetorical question.”

“‘We’re cute.’ is the fun answer.” Koji supplied. “Do you want a nickname, sensei?”

“No. Nicknames end up in bingo books. Can’t imagine how intimidating it would be to see ‘Utatane ‘Stringbean’ Tetsuya comin’ at me in a battle.”

Miho laughed, settling back on her haunches as Koji sat up. He looked a little worse for wear, dirty, and exhausted, but also excited. Tetsuya was muttering under his breath about how he needed a new nickname, which she studiously ignored.

“You’re gonna be one hell of a marksman, Koji. You almost got me that one time. Pretty good.” Genma-sensei actually did look a bit impressed, even if his expression barely changed. He shifted the senbon to the other side of his mouth and frowned. “You gotta work on your ninjutsu and your close-range stuff. We’re starting a new style tomorrow. The Academy style is useless for you. You’ve got too much mass for it.”

“You callin’ me fat?” Koji joked.

“He really can’t do that with me on the team.” Miho grinned.

This brought Genma-sensei’s attention to her and she sat a bit straighter, more like the well-brought-up young mistress of a noble clan rather than the kunoichi that was dead-beat tired.

“Which brings me to you. You’re way faster than people anticipate. You can use that to your advantage. You’re a long-term fighter, can take hits for days and keep getting up. And you know it. That kind of confidence makes you overextend and messes up your balance.” He jerked his head toward the training field. “You’re up next, Miho. Boys, taijutsu.”

Tetsuya groaned, rolling himself up to his feet. He held out a hand for Koji.

She stopped, watching as Genma-sensei moved to a spot about thirty feet away. His hands remained in his pockets. “Remember: intent to kill. You’re not at the level to hurt me. You’re showcasing your skills.”

Miho nodded, pulling her fisted hands back and squaring her feet beneath her shoulders. She felt her chakra spin and whirl, like the wind when she died. At that moment though, the image of swirling clouds didn’t bring her fear. It gave her strength. Chōji was way better at this than she was, pulling the energy from her fat and into her muscles. He was so good at it that he’d even landed a few blows on their father. She’d never managed that, despite her speed and agility.

Still, she had other tricks up her sleeves.

“Go.” Miho threw herself forward, flipping a kunai into her palm as she moved. The blade was a hair away when Genma-sensei disappeared, reappearing behind her with a solid downward kick into her back. Miho rolled, spinning into one of her family’s Justus.

She felt her skin stretch and contort as she inflated. The chakra pulled at her bones and skin until she was speeding toward her teacher. The Leaf-Style Taijutsu: Human Bullet Tank deflected his senbon attack, the rotation deflecting the needles as she slammed into him. As he flew back, landing a few meters away with his eyes narrowed, Miho stopped and collapsed her body back down to its normal size. She was on one knee, waiting for him to make the first move.

“You’re not using the true Multi-Size Technique?” He asked as he appeared at her size, throwing a kunai at her chest.

Miho dodged. Thankfully, her speed paid off and the kunai struck the ground. “Not in my wheelhouse, sensei!”

Slapping a hand to her right forearm armor, she channeled her chakra into the seal. The top of her bō appeared and she dragged her arm back, holding it in place while her left hand pulled the staff from the white light emitted from the storage seal.

“Fancy. My compliments to Akimichi Torifu. Don’t drop it this time.”

Swinging it around, she affirmed her grip and nodded. “I’m already working on it, Genma-sensei.”

“Yeah? Keep workin’ on it.” He switched to ninjutsu— a flurry of fire attacks and wind attacks, making Miho keep in constant motion. He was actively trying to make her lose her grip with all the spinning and deflecting. One of the jutsu caught her sleeve, scalding the skin underneath. Miho hissed and swung the bō while her balance was off, causing her to over-correct. “That’s what I’m talking about. Right there. Get your balance under control or someone’s gonna bury you.”

She held her breath, spinning the bō fast enough to block a hail of kunai.

Then, the bō was gone and she slid left, hearing the clatter of the wood against the ground.

Growling in irritation, Miho forced her right arm forward, slamming into his chest. She put as much force as she could into it. There was a snap under her palm and anxiety jolted through her.

            Wind. The wind was too loud.

That momentary loss of focus was enough. An elbow came down on her head.

Miho was face-down in the dirt in the next instant, the blade of a kunai pressed to the nape of her neck.

He fell back and sat down, adjusting the senbon in his mouth as she rolled over. She wasn’t winded, but the pain ebbing at the top of her head was making her hold her breath. Once she recovered enough, Miho pushed herself up and looked to him for his analysis. His eyes had trailed over to Tetsuya and Koji, who were sitting under the pecan tree again, watching.

“Focus. You gotta stay focused. And fix your damn grip. I’ll make a personal visit to Lord Torifu if I have to.” Miho dipped her head, staring at her palms. They were sweaty, practically soaked. Biting her lip, she nodded. “You need a bigger ninjutsu repertoire if you can’t do many clan techniques. We’ll work on that. You’re set to be a long-fight taijutsu powerhouse, but you can’t rely on that— Not with your chakra stores. Yo, Koji!”

“Yeah, Boss Man?”

“Don’t give me a nickname, damn it.” This was said under his breath, but Miho could tell he was already resigned to his fate. It was only a matter of time. Grinning, she looked over to the guys and waved. They waved back. “Get chakra-conductive wood for your presents. Tetsuya, you’re up!”

Miho pushed herself up, leaning her hands on hers knees for a long moment before standing upright. Her whole body hurt, even more than when she and Lee did their spars.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice those dang weights. Who’s monitoring those?”

Sheepish, Miho scratched at her cheek. “I— Um, Gai-sensei.”

Genma-sensei cringed dramatically, waving her off. “Tell him I said to double the goal. You’re capable of more.”

Not sure what he meant, Miho nodded anyway. Her muscles were already aching. She moved toward where Koji sat, tapping Tetsuya’s high-five as they exchanged places.

“I gotta buy him dango.”

“This is the literal opposite of how bets usually work.” Miho called, walking backward.

Tetsuya threw his hands up. “There’s just no pleasing you, Chubs!”

Koji welcomed her to the blanket, sighing as he patted at the cut on his arm. “I think he fundamentally doesn’t understand gambling.” Once Genma-sensei and Tetsuya got started, Koji turned to her and smiled. “Let’s take a break for a moment. Here.” He handed her a snack from his pack, a high-calorie one, and a water bottle.

Miho grinned, settling onto the blanket.

Chōji flinched when he saw her.

She saw it. He knew she did. His sister was observant like that. She knew him better than anyone. Better than Shikamaru. So, when he saw the slightest downturn in the corners of her mouth, he felt shame well up like indigestion. It bubbled and gurgled and writhed. And Chōji felt terrible.

He tracked her movement— a little unsteady, definitely tired. Worry overtook the shame. She was an endurance specialist. Why was she so tired? Practically nothing tired her out anymore, especially if she was eating right.

Did she eat right? Did she forget snacks?

Normally, Chōji made sure to pack up her snacks before she left for her early-morning sessions. That morning, he didn’t. He avoided her, staying in bed later so he didn’t have to see the dark circles under her eyes. Chōji had never felt to terrible in his life.

Miho approached, eyes downcast. She wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t want to look at him, he knew. His sister would normally run up to his side, embrace him, draw him into the house for snacks and stories.

Ino threatened him to within an inch of his “miserable existence” if he made Miho sad. At the time, he’d silently balked and chewed his chips with extra vigor. Because how dare Ino think he would treat Miho any differently. Chōji sighed, shaking his head. Ino knew better than anyone.

Ino knew his sister better than anyone.

Chōji didn’t think he had a right to say that fact hurt.

“Miho.”

She stopped a few feet away, obviously intent on walking right past him. Toward the training fields. With the way her feet dragged and the bruises he could see under her arm guards, Chōji silently prayed she wasn’t going to do more training.

“Elder Torifu left for the Capital today.”

Her eyes lifted and met his. They were sharp— almost challenging. The glint in them was enough to unsettle him a bit.

She resented him. For what he did that morning. Chōji felt sick.

“C-Can we talk?”

He could see that she wanted to say ‘no.’ The slightest shift in her weight told him that she desperately wanted to stop her foot and say ‘absolutely not.’ Miho stopped herself, shifted her weight again, and nodded.

Miho was endlessly supportive and patient with him. He knew that. She’d always been encouraging him, building him up, and protecting him. Like that time she punched that mean bully at the Academy that called him ‘useless.’ At that time, Chōji thought she was a hero. She protected him and then she protected Naruto. She protected Naruto and him like they were precious.

Chōji followed her to the archives, watching her back as they moved.

Her shoulders were broader than his and she was taller than him. Bigger than him. Chōji bit his lip and felt tear prick at his eyes. But she was his little sister. He was supposed to protect her.

He was supposed to shield her from the world, keep her safe. He was supposed to be the one that fought off the bullies. He was supposed to be the one that supported her with everything. He was supposed to be there for her.

Her shoulders were so strong, but there was so much weight on them.

It was a wonder she could shoulder it all.

When they stepped into the back study room, Miho pressed her palm against the privacy seal and pushed her chakra into it. Then she moved to the chair farthest from the door, on the other side of the table. Putting actual, physical distance between her and the rest of the world. And him.

Chōji— for the first time in his life— felt a wave of nausea.

She sat down, hiding behind a plastic smile. “How did your team test go?”

His hands fisted, the bag of chips crinkling.

How was he supposed to protect her?

How was he supposed to protect their family? Shikamaru? Ino? Asuma?

The village?

He watched as her eyes softened. “Chōji, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” He sat the chips down on the table. “It’s not okay, Miho.”

She shifted. He could see the guilt. He could see regret. Like she regretted showing him. His hands gripped the edge of the table. The wood age-old cracked under his palms. Miho glanced up to him before squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head again. Chōji bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he could taste the metallic brine.

“Miho, I don’t know where to start. Shikamaru doesn’t know where to start.”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have –”

“No!” Chōji cut her off, leaning over the edge of the table. “No! That’s not what I’m saying. I should know. I want to know. I need to know so I can help, so I can change things.”

She knew his nervous habits and her eyes ticked to his right fingers, which twitched toward the chip back on the table. He knew her tells too. She swallowed and rolled her shoulders. She picked up the habit from Elder Torifu. He always thought it was adorable, a mannerism older than her age. But now? It made him want to cry.

It really, really made him want to cry.

“Knowing doesn’t mean we can change it.”

The Uchiha.

Naruto.

“No, but we have a chance.” Chōji argued back.

If she lost hope…If she didn’t believe that things could be different, then why did she show him? Why did she show Shikamaru? Why did she show Ino all those years ago? Why did she treat Naruto like family? Why?

“It means we can make a difference. We didn’t have this there. Then. In those pictures. In that story. We didn’t have you. You weren't my sister there.”

She flinched.

He stared at her, grip growing tighter on the ledge of the table.

Sawdust in his palms.

“You’re. my. sister.”

Miho nodded, tears in her eyes. She was struggling to hold everything together, hands clenching and unclenching. He hated to see her cry. He hated it more than anything. Even when Shikamaru passed judgement on people or when Ino dug her heels in for an argument. Or when someone stole the last piece of meat at a barbecue.

His father, when they were much younger, told the story of the butterfly.

“A young man who grew great crops married a girl who was an excellent gardener. They lived for each other and their plants. Their herbs and vegetables. They had a son. That son inherited his parents’ love of plants and herbs and vegetables. His father had said, hands propped on his knees as they sat in the shade of a poplar. Chōji leaned into Miho’s side then, chewing on a new type of protein cookie. “The couple grew old and died together when their son was still young. He tended his parents’ crops carefully, believing that those plants contained the spirits of his mother and father.”

Miho listened to that story with rapt attention, eyes wide and keen. Chōji never quite understood her fascination with the stories their father told, but he listened nonetheless. He just punctuated the stories with the crunch of cookies or chips whenever the tales dragged on.

“During the first spring after their death, the boy saw two butterflies in the garden. He tended extra carefully to the plants that the butterflies touched. Their legacy protected and flourishing, the butterflies examined each bloom and leaf. The boy knew his parents had become butterflies. In many ways, so too, did the boy become a butterfly as well. We are the descendants of that boy. Do you know what that means?"

Chōji never understood it.

Miho drew a hand over her cheek, painting the tears over her spiral clan marking.

“You’re always going to be my sister, Miho. It doesn’t matter what changes.” Chōji shifted, releasing the table. He felt the sawdust fall from his fingers and glanced down to see the indentions. He wasn’t strong enough to do something like that. “Am I always gonna be your brother?”

She shot to her feet. “Of course— Of course, you are, Chōji!”

He hurried across the space, shoving chairs out of the way. His eyes squeezed shut as his chin rested on her shaking shoulder. He wasn’t able to lock his arms around her, but he did cling to her yukata top. She smelled like dirt. She smelled like sweet buns. And he clung to her like she was the only stable thing in that storm that killed her.

“I’ll protect you. I-I promise.”

Miho nodded, pressing her face into his meaty shoulder. “I’ll-I'll protect you too. I will.”

It was midnight or close to it.

Chōji was asleep on her bed, curled up like a meatball under the fluffy comforter. Drool was pooling on her sheets. Their parents had snuck in earlier during the night, taking pictures and cooing over their cuteness. Miho had been awake, cutting them a glare over her brother’s mass. Her mother giggled and her father warmly laughed. The sound was comforting and Chōji’s breathing was comforting, but she felt the anxiety building.

He left it to her— to decide. When to tell her parents that she knew.

It all paled in comparison to what was coming. She knew that.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter that she wasn’t the blood daughter of Akimichi Chōza and Akimichi Aiko. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t Chōji’s true blood sister.

Still, her fingers brushed along the intricate seal.

The scroll glistened in the moonlight filtering in from her window. Red parchment, etched with symbols that she didn’t recognize from all her years haunting the Akimichi library.

Nearly all Akimichi scrolls held the clan symbol: a bō staff through the wings of a butterfly. Circled by the whole harvest.

Strength and transformation and community.

Instead, there was a single symbol printed on the edge. She wondered at it, pulling a finger over the symbol until the pad of her finger felt raw with the ridges of it. It bent and twisted, cutting an image she didn’t recognize. A series of curves, one falling into the next, drew a figure. A jagged line divided the animal— that’s what it had to be— in half lengthwise.

She sat staring at it for the longest time, until one of Chōji’s snores tore him out of his dreams and he startled awake, throwing himself out of his ball. Half-asleep, he sat up and blinked at her.

Miho sat the scroll on the windowsill, smiling. “Go on back to sleep, Chōji. I’m okay.”

“Nigh’mare?”

“Nope. Just awake.”

“Kay. Y’sleep too.”

She nodded, settling down next to him as he curled back up and went back to his dreams of grand feasts and incredible foods and snacks and delicacies. Turning on her side, she stared up at the windowsill just inches above her bed, the scroll glistening a bit.

Whatever that scroll held and whatever her biological mother had stored within it, Miho couldn’t bring herself to open it just yet. Not when her parents didn’t know that she knew. Not when she didn’t even know the woman’s name. It just didn’t seem right. So, she closed her eyes and forced herself not to open them again.

When her eyes did open again, as she dragged herself over Chōji to get ready for her training regimen and breakfast, the scroll still sat there.

As she pulled on her clothes and wrapped her elbows and knees, the scroll still sat there.

She paused in the doorway, her bō slung over her shoulder.

Turning, she stared at the scroll and then glanced down to Chōji’s smile while he slept.

She shut the door.

Chapter Text

Genma, in equal parts, loved and hated his kids.

And they were his kids.

They were adorable little nerds that were hellbent on nicknaming every damn person, animal, or thing they came across. They giggled amongst themselves at every opportunity and they coordinated their outfits—with his, now.

That last bit, admittedly, came as a surprise.

Especially since he wore the standard jōnin uniform with very few exceptions.

When Koji turned up in a bandana, Tetsuya in a turtleneck, and Miho with bandages around the right thigh of her black pants, he really had to resist the urge to coo.

Genma had to resist the urge to melt completely when they each smiled up at him and said, “Let’s go get that mission, Boss Man.”

With the frightening feeling of they watch everything, Koji raised a piece of grass to his lips and grinned around it. Miho and Tetsuya grinned, too, obviously pleased as punch that Koji had come around. Team Five was probably his downfall, Genma figured, but at least they were cute.

Too cute.

They were stupidly efficient, too, when they really had no right to be, which was both confusing and annoying. Tetsuya liked writing reports, like the absolute weirdo he was. He liked the “official-ness” of it. He liked filling out the boxes. Koji was a caregiver, through and through— the one who could bring them back to center. He was physical, comfortable with breaking barriers to give care. Miho handled their endurance and strength training with a frightening likeness to Gai. She was determined to see everyone get stronger. If that meant staring them down until they ate or completed a task, then she’d do it.

(At one of the jōnin teacher gatherings (held at a very professional seedy pub near the stadium), Maito Gai declared in the Loudest Voice Imaginable that Akimichi Miho was a “shining, glistening example of Youth and Beauty” and that she was “surely a sunflower blooming with good senses.”) 

They— “Book Club,” that is, since the name had stuck— spent off-days at their “Beta Location,” which really meant the bookshop on Market Street. It was team-mandated, which meant that they all agreed to meet until they couldn’t. He didn’t know of a single other team that got together during off time.

And they were supremely annoying to generally anyone they felt side-eyed them.

Every time a jōnin caught him smirking down at them around his senbon, Genma may’ve glared at the resulting snicker.

Each time one of the other jōnin teachers questioned how much of the truth he was actually giving about his team, he glared.

And every time a bit of his dignity died at their hands— because badass didn’t rhyme with doting— he shrugged it off.

In short, they were his kids. It didn’t really matter if he loved or hated them.

With the 35 D-ranks in the books, it was time for them to stretch their wings a bit.

“Off to the Mission Dispensary?” Koji questioned, folding his arms behind his head.

“You mean the ‘Missions Desk’?” Genma rolled his eyes. “You can’t give nicknames to things that already have names.”

“You already had a name, Genma-sensei.” Tetsuya replied helpfully, trying hard not to sound like a smart ass. It didn’t work and Genma bopped him on the back of the head. “Ouch. Right.”

“We going for a C-rank today?” Miho questioned around a huge bite of some high calorie bread. She held out a small piece for Tetsuya, who took it. “I know you’re getting tired of D-ranks, Boss Man.”

“Yeah, what was it you said the other day?” Koji questioned. He was learning the art of rhetorical questions and Genma wanted to throw himself— very bravely, like a true jōnin of incredible merit— off the Hokage monument. “You said, ‘If we gotta do another D-rank again, I’m throwin’ the cat into the river.’”

“That’s just mean, sensei, really.” Tetsuya smiled innocently around his bread. “That cat didn’t do anything to you. We’ve just had to catch it ten times.”

Miho’s head shook. Her wild curls seeming even wilder with the force of the shake. “Eleven. Eleven times. Remember the fiasco with Team Eight?” Both boys grimaced.

Genma had to have a very long talk with Kurenai about keeping her Inuzuka away from his Akimichi or “there’d be hell to pay” and all that. Something about hearing that little ingrate’s “Fatass can’t catch a cat!” over and over again made something in him snap.

And the boys might’ve had some words with him behind the nearby noodle shop.

If the kid was growling under his breath as he apologized to Miho in a rough approximation of contrition, then she gracefully ignored it. She was patient like that. Told him to watch how quickly the cat came to a still target next time. He was practically spitting-fire mad.

The fact that his teammates didn’t try to help him spoke volumes.

“C-rank or bust?” Koji wondered, entering the Academy-adjacent missions building. “Hey, Genma-sensei, we’re not the last hold outs for a C-rank, are we?”

“We’re tied with Team Ten and Team Seven.” Miho answered before he could. Genma would imagine that she would know, given her brother was on Asuma’s team and her Best Bud Naruto was on Team Seven. “We’re all comin’ in for missions today, so…”

They waited in the hallway outside of the “mission room,” waiting for the next meeting slot. Normally, D-ranks went through the Mission Dispensary (see: Missions Desk), but with new genin, the Hokage assigned tasks personally. Mostly to build up loyalty and instill understanding of hierarchy between the new teams and leadership. A transition period from the Academy to actual practice.

Genma always thought it was a waste of time.

At a very familiar voice crying about her love for her cat, all three children (and their very badass teacher) cringed. The door opened and the woman stepped out. Very quickly, Genma fell into a formal bow and watched in his peripheral vision as his kids did the same. The woman squealed excitedly.

“Oh, Little Miho! Look, my dear! My dearest Tora has been returned to me. Yes, indeed!” The woman rubbed the cat against her face before reaching down to pinch Miho’s right dumpling-like cheek. Genma fought hard not to laugh. “Your Elder Torifu will be visiting us soon. I hope you will come with him, my dear! I am certain you would absolutely love our sweets in the Capital!”

Miho smiled widely, bowing again to the Daimyo’s wife. “I would love to, my Lady. Thank you for remembering that I love sweets.”

“There’s a girl! There’s a girl!”

He wondered if Miho knew the kind of political connection she was fostering. She never struck him as the politicking type, but he’d been wrong before. Chōza was a political powerhouse and the Akimichi were one of the most powerful clans in the village when it came to connections and services-owed. Miho looked up at him and smiled.

“Have a pleasant day, my Lady!”  

“NO! NO! THANK YOU!”

Miho flinched, watching as the woman walked away. Genma watched as her attention flitted back to the door in front of them. Her muscles tensed, as if waiting for an attack. Genma observed as the two boys exchanged a look.

“That was Naruto’s—”

“YOU FOOL! YOU’RE STILL A BOTTOM ROOKIE! AT THE START, EVERYONE NEEDS TO MOVE UP THE LADDER!”

“And that was Iruka-sen—”

“BUT! IT’S BEEN NOTHING BUT BLAH MISSIONS SO FAR!”

Genma put a hand on Miho’s shoulder when she took a step forward. He could remember being in the same position when he was her age, grabbing onto Gai’s bandana— to keep him from busting into Team Seven’s meeting. Miho was taking too much after Gai’s student. He’d never mention this to Gai, even if he had to swallow his own tongue.

“Genma-sensei?” He released Miho, who looked down at her shoes, and glanced to Tetsuya. “Do you want us to go on a C-rank? Are we ready?”

“I’ve reported you as a C-rank capable for a week. It’s up to the Hokage.”

While Tetsuya nodded, Koji frowned and shuffled himself to stand closer to Miho. Even if he was taller than her, it wasn’t by much and he often did this when he was feeling insecure. Miho always seemed to be the sturdy thing that the boys sheltered around. “It means…leaving the village, right?”

“We’ve left the village before, Koji.”

“I know. I know. I mean— like further away. Further from the village.”

Miho drew her left arm under his shoulders and physically leaned into him. Genma watched the exchange with no little awe, noticing that the kid had to shift his weight to accommodate hers. She was putting near her full weight onto his side and he was bolstering it. No easy feat either.

“Just means we have to watch each other’s backs more. That’s all.”

He recognized the physical diversion, like how those therapists told him to find a way to distract from the panic attacks. She diverted Koji’s attention from his anxiety to balancing her weight. It was small, focused, and effective.

Genma tried not to smile. He really did.

His kids were so cute. Damn it.

“Yo.”

The sheer amount of judgement and disgust in that single word made Genma want to turn the Copy-Ninja into a Pin Cushion. He was probably fast enough, right? Besides, his assassin training had to be good for something. Hours and hours of killing people was useful for this kind of thing, right? He could take out Kakashi, surely.

Kakashi smiled behind his mask. “What’s with the glare, Shiranui?”

“How many senbon does it take to turn an adult male into a pin cushion?”

“Technically, wouldn’t it only take one?”

Genma sighed, deflating a bit. “Nevermind. Mock away.”

Kakashi’s students trailed along behind him: the disinterested Uchiha, the fangirling Haruno, and the—

“MIHO!”

loud Uzumaki.

He withheld a snort. Just like Kushina. Honestly, it was amazing. Like seeing her bound around Konoha again. Genma leaned back and watched as Naruto collided with Miho, slamming her back into the wall. She just barely maneuvered enough to keep the kid from slamming his head into the wood wall in his excitement.

“WE JUST GOT OUR FIRST C-RANK! IT’S GONNA BE AWESOME!”

Koji was actively trying to detangle himself from the two, looking desperately toward where Tetsuya was grinning. Just out of arm’s reach. Tetsuya had a cruel streak a mile wide, and it was showing. Finally, Koji wiggled just enough to get himself free and he immediately flung himself at Tetsuya, who giggled and spun away.

“Koji, if you can get him in a headlock in the next fifteen seconds, I’ll buy you grilled fish from that place on Market Street.”

His student literally growled, body-slamming his teammate to the far wall.

Tetsuya didn’t stand a chance.

Genma watched, switching the senbon to the right side of his mouth. “Don’t break anything.”

“What the—” The pink-haired girl started, eyes wide at Koji’s brute strength as he manhandled Tetsuya into submission. Bless Tetsuya’s hear though. He wasn’t making it easy. The kid was freakin’ bendy. Natural born kenjustu specialist. He really needed to call in that favor with Hayate. “This is Team Five?” The tone of incredulity was both gratifying and grating.

Genma might’ve been projecting, but it looked like the Uchiha scoffed.

“Welp, as cute as all of this is— bye!”

Kakashi was a damn weakling, bailing like that. Genma shook his head, looking to the students he left behind. They both stared at Naruto’s back, obviously confused and thrown off-kilter for a moment. Their wild teammate was more subdued now, speaking to Miho in hushed tones, and another team was— at the very least— high-functioning.

After a long brooding stare at the Uzumaki’s back, the Uchiha turned to leave. The pink-haired girl trailed after him, peppering him with questions that he obviously ignored.

“Naruto, you have a mission. Go get packed.”

“I will, I will!” The kid stepped away from Miho, grinning from ear to ear. “Can you believe it? I get to go outside of the village! This is awesome.”

Miho was comparatively more sober. As usual. “I’m proud of you. I am. And I’m sure you’ll do great.”

She seemed a bit hesitant and Genma listened in, even if his eyes were focused on Koji and Tetsuya’s playful scuffling. Now that Koji won, they were just ribbing each other.

“Just…please be careful. Remember that not everything is as it seems. Keep your eyes open. And, it hasn’t rained in weeks, so make sure to take extra water with you, okay? And extra snacks? And—”

“Hey, hey.” Now Naruto seemed more collected as well. A complete 180 from his previous exuberance. “I’ll be okay, ya know? Believe it.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, but she flew forward and grabbed him around the shoulders. Genma shifted his senbon again. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?”

“N-Nothing. Just, promise me, that you’ll...know you got people here waiting for you, okay? People that love you.” He saw the Uzumaki jerk in her arms before throwing his own around her as far as they would go.

Genma could smell the tears.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get in there. We can’t keep the Hokage and Iruka-sensei waiting. Koji, you won that round. I owe you grilled fish. Miho, tell Naruto that you’ll see ‘em later.” He ushered the two boys ahead, giving the two time to separate. “Have a safe mission, Naruto.”

If Naruto squeezed her a little tighter, well, Genma wasn’t going to say anything about it.

Miho let him go and gave him an encouraging push. Then, as if sensing that she was now the one needing a distraction, Koji swept back to her and threw an arm over her shoulders.

“C’mon, Miho. He’ll be fine.”

As Tetsuya sidled up to Miho’s other side, Genma smiled a bit more around his senbon and followed his students to stand before the Hokage. They bowed formally, as they were meant to do. He’d taught them all the courtesies, even if most of them for performative.

The old man looked smug, sharp eyes flitting over Koji’s bandana, Miho’s thigh bandages, and Tetsuya’s turtleneck.

“Well, well. Team Five, it seems you are doing quite well in managing your teamwork. Your teacher has had nothing but positive things to report.”

Genma knew when he was being thrown to the wolves for an old ninja’s amusement, so he tried to maintain an unaffected air. His shoulders arched forward just a bit and he rolled the senbon. “Eh, sir, they’re like a well-oiled machine. What can I say?”

His kids were preening. Bunch of ridiculous nerds would never let this go.

“A well-oiled machine that you reported was ready to take on C-rank missions.”

“You what?” Iruka questioned with an abrupt sort of skepticism. His team wasn’t outright giving their former teacher a side-eye, but it was bordering close. To them, it sounded insulting. And they weren’t the type to go screaming about how offended they were. “They’ve got to work their way up to C-ranks.”

“They have.”

“Seeing as how Team Seven is departing on their first C-rank as well, I see no reason why you should not embark on your own.”

All three of his students flinched, standing straighter.

“You have the same mission departure time as Team Seven, but you will veer southwest toward the mountains at the border with the Land of Rivers. There are rumors of a bandit hideout there. Find the hideout and report its location back to Konoha. This is a reconnaissance mission. No engagement.”

“Our client?” Genma caught the scroll that was tossed to him. The mission parameters were normal for a C-rank. The Hokage was obviously testing his team’s ability in an off-skill mission. This was more of a mission for Team Eight. Genma vaguely wondered if Team Ten would get a C-rank emphasizing direct battle instead.

“Rockfall, a mining village. You will meet them when you arrive there tomorrow midday. Speak with the village leader, Seki.”

Genma nodded, leading the kids into a bow. They followed suit as he expected them to and he began to lead them away. Now, it was time to put their mission preparedness to the test. Five-minute mission prep drill.

No one could ever say that he was a soft teacher.

After all, he was a badass jōnin.

“Team Five?”

He stopped, watching as his kids turned around to look at the Hokage. They each looked to him first, as if in question of what the Hokage might want from them. Looking him to the direct-in-command. He could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

This was exactly what the Hokage wanted when he forced Genma from the ANBU ranks.

Damn him, the old man was right.

“Safe journey.”

Miho grabbed one of the mission-ready sealed scrolls from the kitchen bookshelf, which was stacked to the brim with different scrolls sealed with various mission durations and diets. Snack Scrolls. Her father’s were at the top. Her brother’s at the center. Hers at the bottom. The Akimichi symbol was etched into each one.

Hurrying past the kitchen, she bounded up the stairs and grabbed her backpack from the closet. She tossed her Snack Scrolls in, ten deep. Some extra senbon and kunai, a medical kit. Extra clothes and her bed roll. Her metal bō was sealed into her forearm armor. Collectively, she was wearing the weight of Tetsuya.

That weight was nothing.

Nothing compared to the weights that currently sat on her calves and forearms.

As she pulled Chōji’s scarf around her neck, she stopped, glancing at the scroll on the windowsill. Part of her wondered if it would have anything useful for this mission. 

Not today.

            No, not today!

Chōji would be out on missions with his team. Her father was working on a new trade deal in one of the nearby towns. Her mother was at a friend’s house, painting a nursery mural.

Miho scribbled down a note, setting it on the kitchen table once she’d finished her final prep. As an afterthought, she wrote out a quick note to Ino and handed it off to the guard at the front of the compound as she headed for the gate.

As usual, she was early. She leaned against the gate and scuffed the heel of her sandal against the dirt. Naruto’s team was due to arrive any minute, she reckoned. Anxiety ate at her, making her hands shake as she shoveled handfuls of chips into her mouth.

Uchiha Sasuke arrived only a few minutes after her, moving to lean against the gate opposite her. He kept his attention anywhere but her and Miho mirrored that, studiously focusing on the sway of the treetops nearby. While she didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence, she could sense the silent judgement.

And that was grating.

Especially knowing what was coming for him during this mission.

What Naruto would go through for him on this mission.

Swallowing down the rest of the chips, Miho unwrapped a high-protein cookie. Special-made with her caloric intake in mind, her cookies were a pre-mission ritual. She needed to eat three before hitting the road.

“Akimichi.”

Her head jerked down to stare at the Uchiha. He stared back at her, eyes narrowing. “Can you chew quieter?”

“Sorry. Didn’t realize I was smacking.” Miho smiled around the cookie a bit, silently praying for her teammates or Naruto to show up. Sasuke was awkward and standoffish in a way that was different from Shikamaru. Shikamaru was awkward and standoffish because he projected it to get people to leave him alone. Sasuke was awkward and standoffish because he oozed irritation. “I gotta eat three of these before we set out.”

His eyes widened just a bit before he nodded and looked away. “Whatever.”

Miho took that as some kind of permission, though she really didn’t need it. She did try to chew with a bit more decorum, like she was out at a restaurant instead of prepping for a mission. After a minute, she shifted and pulled another from her back, eyeing it for a second before calling out to the Uchiha.

He grabbed the cookie from the air, eyeing it and her with equal parts suspicion and befuddlement.

Like he couldn’t believe she’d just thrown a cookie at him.

“It’s protein-enhanced. Good for long-haul missions. You can throw it back if you don’t want it.”

“Yo, Chubs!”

Grinning, Miho turned to see Tetsuya and Koji approaching. The latter was eyeing the Uchiha and his still dumbstruck expression. Meanwhile, Tetsuya leapt forward to link his arm with hers. The movements were all so natural now that Miho handed them cookies without thinking. Koji just pocked his, throwing the Uchiha a smirk.

“She gave you one too, huh? She don’t share these lightly. Must’ve thought you looked hungry or somethin’.”

“Actually, come to think of it…” Miho took out two more and chucked them at the Uchiha. He didn’t quite scramble to catch them, but it was close enough. Scrambling would’ve been ‘beneath him’ or something. He eyed the two additional cookies with something akin to critical distain. “One’s for Sakura. The other’s for Naruto.”

Tetsuya sidled himself slightly in front of her, grabbing her attention. “Did you remember—”

“Why would you give one of these to the idiot?”

Miho felt the world still and quieten. Despite her best efforts to reel in her kneejerk response, she was already moving before Tetsuya could grab ahold of her. Sasuke fell into a defensive stance, but Miho never made any move to strike. She looked down at him, down her nose from her greater height. She stood a head taller than him. Still.

He was still so small. He was obviously not eating right.

He has no one to cook for him.

He was sneering, in a way that she remembered from the Images. In a way that spoke to his own insecurities. Smart as he was, he was stunted. She could see it there— he truly didn’t understand why she would give Naruto a cookie. He didn’t get it.

Pulling in a deep breath, Miho let her shoulders rise and fall. The fight in her deflated and dissipated. 

“If I’m not overly fond of you and gave you a cookie, then I’m certainly gonna give a cookie to one of my best friends.” She sniffed and looked away, all too aware of her teammates’ eyes on her. “Everyone deserves good food.”

Something collided with her side and then was suddenly perched on her back, rough voice yelling out in delight. “Hell yeah, Miho! Totally showed up that bas— jerk! You gave him my cookie? Can I have another? Can I?”

“Naruto, you shouldn’t eat cookies before a mission.”

Miho turned to see Haruno Sakura arriving to the gate, a very put-upon expression pinched on her face. Honestly, Miho’d never had a problem with her. She pretty much kept to herself or fell in line with Ino, who’d avoided a Sasuke-based skirmish in this reality.

“You totally should!” Naruto responded, still perched on her back. Miho sighed, sagging a bit. “Akimichi-Lady, Momma Akimichi Whatever, said that you gotta store up food so that you have energy on missions. Right?” He swung around to Miho’s right and tried to look into her face.

Snorting a laugh, she nodded and he leapt off, grabbing the two cookies from Sasuke’s hand. He danced about and threw them into his mouth, eating as obnoxiously as possible to prove some kind of point.

Feeling a little helpless, Miho withdrew another cookie— the last of her pre-mission prep— and held it out to Sakura.

“Naruto ate your cookie. It’s actually really healthy. Made with flax seeds and oats and a protein concentrate from my clan. My cousin eats these to bulk up, but they’re packed with antioxidants too. Here.”

“I— I— I can’t I’m watching my figure.”

Behind Miho, Tetsuya scoffed. She felt him come up behind her on the left, threading his arm through hers again. She knew him well enough to recognize the impatience in his stance.

“You gotta eat or you’re gonna faint mid-battle. Hell, anybody’ll faint mid-battle without the right diet.”

Miho didn’t miss the way Sakura’s eyes trailed over the rolls and the stretch marks in her upper arms. Though she didn’t grimace, a flicker of fear passed behind her green eyes. Miho shifted. Before she could open her mouth to explain, she felt Koji come to her other side.

“Take the cookie, Haruno.”

“Matching outfits? Genma really has brainwashed you guys, hasn’t he?”

Miho looked up to see Kakashi approaching with their client, who reeked of alcohol so prominently that she started to breath through her nose. She felt the cookie being taken and turned to see Sasuke removing it from her hand. As if that wasn’t strange enough, he nodded in thanks before looking away again.

“They’re just a bunch of unoriginal goons.”

Genma-sensei appeared beside Koji, shifting the senbon from the right to left corner of his lips. He seemed to take in the scene before nodding. “Pre-missions snacks complete?” Miho nodded. “You remember your medical kit, Tetsuya?” Tetsuya stepped back and nodded. Miho vaguely wondered if Team Seven did such checklists. They were all watching in barely-concealed awe. “Koji, you good?”

“Mission ready, Boss Man.”

Their teacher rolled his eyes. “Alright then, Book Club. Move out.”

“Naruto, good luck. I believe in you, okay? Be safe.” Miho glanced to Sasuke and then Sakura. Even threw a cautionary glance at Kakashi-sensei. “Good luck, Team Seven. Be careful.”

She glanced to Genma-sensei and, seeing the smile in his eyes (but definitely not his face because he was Cool), followed him and the boys out of Konoha’s main gate.

“They’ll be somewhere with access to water.” Genma-sensei commented, staring at a map of the area. His arms were crossed as he glanced to the village leader, Seki. The middle-aged leader was obviously exhausted, shoulders slumping forward and bags cutting unforgiving lines from his eyes. “Any bandit leader worth his salt’ll have at least forty-five under his command. That needs a steady water supply.”

“Probably closer to sixty,” Seki responded with a sigh. Genma-sensei raised his brows at the large number. “They grab merchants as they pass through the mountains from the Land of Rivers and pillage the border towns after harvest. We kept expecting another band to take them out, but…”

“Another band?”

Seki shuddered. “The Mount Kaou Band has rivals to the south.”

Beside her, Koji flinched and she glanced his way, only to find him staring at the map with narrowed eyes.

Her nerves were already making her arms tingle, knowing that Naruto’s mission went awry just a few hours earlier. Team Seven’s mission to Wave was a success, no matter what happened. She knew that and she needed to let it go.

“You can’t save everyone,” Ino told her. “You can’t save that Ice Guy.”

While that was true, Miho still felt for him. And her heart broke for Naruto, for what he would go through on this mission.

Everything would be fine. It would.

But the fear still ate at her.

Now, Koji’s strange behavior was making the anxiety build in her chest.

“Their leader is a man named Taiki. He’s ruthless. A horrible, horrible man.”

“Our mission brief mentioned human trafficking?”

Seki visibly shuddered, moving to sit in a nearby chair. All of the energy seemed to leave him. Miho felt her heart break for the man. He was clearly suffering from all that the bandits were doing to the area. “They take…people. Sometimes. Once someone is taken, they are never seen again. These monsters b-boast.” The tears that entered his eyes seemed shattering. “My daughter…months ago. They ‘recruit’ the boys.”

Tetsuya edged closer to her side and Miho glanced at him. He held her eyes for a long moment before jerking his head toward Koji, who was still staring at the map.

While their teacher spoke in hushed tones with the client, Miho turned to her teammate.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s weird, ain’t it? Mount Kaou’s never been this bold.”

“This bold?” Tetsuya wondered aloud. She could see her confusion echoed on his face, brows knitted together. “Koji-my-man, how d’you know anything about the Mount Kaou bandits? How d’ya know they’ve ‘never been this bold?’”

Koji seemed to chew on this inside of his cheek, glancing toward their teacher’s back. Pulling in a breath, he sighed and hunched his shoulders forward. Like he was hiding. “I just…I just know.” At Miho and Tetsuya’s skeptical expressions, he relented. “I…kinda know a lot about bandits, alright? And Mount Kaou has always been a group of good-for-nothins but they ain’t never been this…powerful.”

That was a side-step of an answer.

He knew it. She knew it. Tetsuya knew it. Hell, even Genma-sensei knew it, given the look he just sent them over the client’s shoulder.

Tetsuya ran a hand through his hair before shaking it back into place. “You know we don’t buy that, right?”

“I know.” Koji nodded.

Genma-sensei wrapped up his discussion and jerked his thumb toward the door, rolling up the map before ushering them outside. “Koji, we’re gonna need to work on your subterfuge skills, buddy.” In the twilight, his dark eyes were critical and narrowed. “We need to set out for the base of the mountains tonight. We’ll start canvassing tomorrow morning. Let’s go. In the meantime, Koji, you can loop us into your local knowledge.”

Koji lowered his head, looking ashamed and chastised. “Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go. We’ve got some ground to cover.”

Miho listened as Koji told the story of two rival bands, whose members had been battling for centuries. One band was the ruthless and cruel outlaws of Mount Kaou. The other was the comparatively less-violent bandits of Spirit Mountain, further down the mountain chain toward the sea to the south The Spirit Mountain band had always been able to keep Mount Kaou in check with larger numbers and greater influence.

“If Mount Kaou has expanded like this, then something must’ve happened to Spirit Mountain—”

“How d’you know all this anyway?” Tetsuya laid out his bedroll. “And don’t say you read it somewhere. Miho uses that all the time and it’s always lie.”

Miho swallowed her spit wrong and coughed, nearly face-planting in the pine needles on the forest floor. “I do not!”

“You do.” Genma-sensei and Koji agreed at the same time. Genma-sensei shot her a look in the dark and then turned to stare down Koji. “Spill it.”

It was quiet in the camp, save for the slightest ruffling of fabric. And Miho could hear her heartbeat and the rush of the wind in the mountain passes. They couldn’t light a fire to avoid detection. The darkness was only alleviated by the occasional clearing of clouds over the moon.

            The moon, painted red.

“My father is the second-in-command of the Spirit Mountain bandits.”

Now that hadn’t been what Miho expected.

In the darkness, she could feel Tetsuya’s shock at their teammate’s admission. She actually heard his teeth click as he drew his mouth shut. Their teacher, however, was silent. Miho watched his shadow, waiting.

“Got any insight into where Mt. Kaou’s hideout is then?”

Koji was quiet for a moment as if frozen by Genma-sensei’s acceptance. “He…He always used to say that the Kaou ran with the Black Wind. Meant that they were closer to the Low Pass along the Black River.”

“That narrows our area significantly.” Their teacher was quiet for a long moment. While he thought, Miho leaned over and stretched out a hand to press against Koji’s knee. “Koji— Your loyalty is to Konoha, correct?”

Koji flinched under her hand. “Yes, sensei. I left the band when I was six with my mother. I’m loyal to Konoha and my comrades and my home. I swear it.”

Genma-sensei nodded in the darkness. Miho could see it, along with the barely tilt of his lips and the glint of his senbon in the moonlight.

“I knew where you were from, Koji. I’m your teacher. It’s in your record. Not to mention, your dialect— when you let your control slip.” Miho felt Koji’s hand come to her own, gripping over the top of her fingers. She never realized his hands were so rough. A woodworker’s hands. “You know this was why we were given this particular mission, right?”

Tetsuya spoke before Koji could. “The Hokage gave us this mission ‘cause Koji’s related to bandits?”

Genma-sensei snorted. “Because he’s from this mountain chain, but— sure, that too.”

“Make use of your resources.” Miho supplied. “I wondered about the accent, Koji, but would’ve never asked. It’s your business after all.”

He squeezed her hand. “After my Ma died, I hid it. Didn’t wanna bring myself any trouble, ‘specially after that bandit attack on the Capital caravan a few years ago. Wasn’t my family, but…” She could feel him shrug. “People weren’t very happy with bandits.”

“People aren’t really ever happy with bandits, Woodchuck.”

Koji gripped her hand harder, but Miho knew it was because he agreed. After all, Tetsuya wasn’t mad— he was using the nickname, after all. Silence fell over the camp for a while, the whirr of cicadas and the creaks of tree frogs making the chasm of trees seem more insulated. After a while, Tetsuya shifted and she could see his face in the darkness.

He slapped a hand to Koji’s back.

“I’m the son of a bad farmer.” Genma-sensei offered, voice quiet. It almost seemed like the cicadas hushed for a moment, a lull in their screeching. “Grew up without shoes or running water. None of that. The old man raked up debt until we were drowning in it.”

In the darkness, Miho stared in the direction of her teacher’s voice, listening. Genma-sensei wasn’t talkative. He didn’t say anything without meaning or purpose. Most often, he preferred to observe. To watch people. Like how he often watched her and her teammates. It didn’t mean that he said nothing. He just spoke when he had something to say.

When he spoke, people listened.

“My father wasn’t a good man. I wanted to be better than him. Took off for Konoha with nothin’ but my pack.” She could hear the click of his senbon against his teeth.

He didn’t finish the story, but the implication was clear. Miho felt Koji’s hand release hers and she heard a bit of sniffling.

“I’m a shinobi of Konoha and the son of a shit gambler. You’re a shinobi of Konoha, Koji, and you’re the son of a bandit.”

Tetsuya’s voice was subdued. She would almost say it was tinged blue, somehow, but Miho didn’t quite know why she thought that. “You choose what it means. Where you’re from. Who you’re from.”

For an Utatane— for Tetsuya, who’d bullied her for years because he felt like he had the right to— to say that, Miho felt the world shift a bit.

Because that sounded a lot like a declaration.

When they all fell asleep, Koji was at the center. Miho rested her head on his shoulder. Tetsuya was on his other side. She could feel Genma-sensei on watch nearby, keeping them safe. And Miho— vaguely, somewhere between sleep and waking— wondered if this was what it meant to be a team. Desperately, she prayed that, among all the chaos and hurt and terror that was coming, she could protect this little slice of goodness.

She would protect it...with everything she had. No matter what.

The high altitude was disorienting. Miho’d never had problems with mountain environments. After all, one of her family’s training fields was composed entirely of large earthen hills and deep-cut valleys. It wasn’t the rocks and jagged edges that bothered her. It was the altitude, the sheer height of the mountains. The high vantage point that Genma-sensei wanted was just below the cloud line. The air was thin and she never felt like she could get enough oxygen.

She wasn’t quite sure if it was fear or the lack of breathable air that made her feel dizzy.

She gripped the rocks for dear life, trying not to think about how high up they were perched on the side of the mountain.

“Bird Team, do you read?”

Tetsuya huffed next to her. “Stupid name. We’re up high— we’re the bird team. Boss Man needs to do better with this.” He reached up to press his earpiece. “We read. We’re in position. Waiting for orders, Boss.”

“Maintain position. Keep an eye on the caravan.” Below them by about two hundred feet was a road cut into the mountainside. “Do not interfere. Just observe. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Miho shifted, using a bit of chakra on her feet to steady her stance on the ledge. Her build just wasn’t very maneuverable on such a small slab of etched-out rock. Her stomach extended too far out to be flush against the rockface so her fingertips were more precariously gripping the edge. Sweating despite the cold air, she risked detaching her right hand and reached up to blot her brow.

“I hate this.”

“I’m not gonna let you fall, Chubs. You’ll be fine. C’mon.”

It was easy for him to say. Tetsuya was lithe and ‘wiry.’ Completely nimble in all of his movements. He was practically dancing up the side of the rockface, swinging from one grip to the next. Not to mention, Miho wasn’t 100% confidence that he could lift her bodyweight if the need arose.

That would need to change. She catalogued it for later.

“I get that Genma-sensei did this as a challenge or whatever, but I hate this.”

A particularly stiff wind swept over the rockface and Miho shifted, trying to draw closer to the rocks.

“It’s just a few more feet. You can do it.”

Shaking, she looked up to see Tetsuya peering over the ledge from an escarpment about ten feet up. The angle was frightening, shifting outward until there was literally no way to hold on except to let the legs dangle. Particularly for her, she’d have to make most of the journey with just her arm strength.

Narrowing her eyes, she pulled in a deep breath. Heart pounding, she reached up and drew herself upward. One grip after another until her legs were dangling. It had to be at least one hundred feet to the caravan road below. She tried not to think about that as she moved.

Instead, she thought about Haku.

Haku, who didn’t deserve his fate.

Haku, who was a good person.

Haku, who would teach Naruto about sacrifice.

There was nothing she could do to save him. Even if she was on Team Seven, she didn’t think there’d be a way to prevent his death.

It was an Inciting Incident in a lot of ways, easing the audience into the reality of the world the story would take place. Haku was a sacrifice for that, to showcase reality as the writer defined it.

Miho haul herself over the ledge and rolled to her back, staring up at the dark gray clouds overhead. Her chest heaved and she wondered just how many bag of chips she’d need to eat to make up for that exertion. Six? Seven?

She felt a hand pat her stomach and her eyes opened.

“You’re the strongest, Chubs. You did good.”

Grinning over the burn in her arms, Miho pushed herself up and knelt at the edge of the escarpment. “Eyes on the west. I’ll keep an eye on the other side.”

“Just don’t know how they’d pull that off.”

“They’re native to this kind of terrain. I’m sure they have a way.”

The caravan arrived about half an hour later. Fourteen wagons emblazoned with the imagery of the River King— the “daimyo” of the Land of Rivers. The blue colors contrasted the brownish-red of the valley walls. They rounded the corner with a careful, steady speed. The local mountain guide, probably hired on the other side of the range, led the way. Miho eyed him every so often, keeping her eyes on the oppose valley wall.

“We have visual.” Genma-sensei’s voice said in her ear. “Your two o’clock. Near that downed boulder.”

Miho felt her nerves spike into her throat, looking toward where her teacher had indicated. She saw nothing, but she did see the guide.

The guide, who was raising his hands in the approximation of a yawn.

She pressed the communicator button in her ear. “The guide is in on this.”

“Affirmative.” Her teacher responded. “Get ready.”

Reaching into her pocket, Miho withdrew a cookie and downed it in three bites, adjusting her gloves on her hands as she waited. The caravan proceeded below. The wagons were beautifully appointed, she thought. Nicely constructed. The River King had spared no expense.

A yell echoed across the valley and all hell broke loose below.

Their momentum was terrifying. A horde of men rushed from behind the boulder, as if a cave were hidden behind it. The first merchant to fall took a stab to the gut. He didn’t even have time to yell before he was thrown down into the river. Another merchant fell screaming to the rocks, his blood forming a pool of deep red around his body.

Miho shifted, feeling sick by the carnage.

It was unbridled cruelty.

A garishly-dressed man stepped from behind the boulder after the attack began. He picked his way through the gore, stepping over pools of blood as if it would harm his shining boots. His long hair was whipping about in the mountain wind.

“Sir, this is a massacre.” Miho glanced to Tetsuya, who was wide-eyed and whispering urgently into the communicator.

“Interference is not our mission, Tetsuya. Stay in position.”

A particularly young scream cut through bedlam. Miho followed the ruckus from above, watching as a couple kids were dragged from one of the covered wagons. Two girls— young ones, much younger than her and her teammates. Miho twitched at how roughly the smallest one was manhandled. The driver of their wagon crashed to the ground, gasping for breath.

“Look what we got here, boys! It’s the River Princess.”

The little girl was jerked around, crying out as a rough knife was pressed to her throat. She couldn’t’ve have been more than five or six.

Miho reached for her kunai pack and withdrew one. The cool metal felt a bit more reassuring than the uncertain glance Tetsuya sent her.

“Mission parameters just changed.” Genma-sensei stated in an almost mechanical voice. His mission leader voice. Miho stiffened, awaiting orders. “Miho— you’re the fastest. When you see an opening, get the girl. Tetsuya, you cover her. Koji, gather the rest of the caravan and evacuate them to the town. I’ll handle these bastards.”

Though she was glad to hear the mission shift, Miho tried to reason it.

Mid-mission changes were common, but…She stilled.

The Wave Mission changed like this.

Genma-sensei took out six guys in a matter of seconds. The bandits flew into a frenzy. Orders were being shouted by two or three guys in the midst of the chaos, the leaders. Her attention focused on the girls. Miho looked to Tetsuya and nodded.

“Grab ‘em and go. I’ve got your back.”

Miho jumped down into the mess, throwing a kick at the man holding the girl with such force that he slammed into the opposite valley wall. He tumbled out of sight as she landed. “I’m Miho. I’m getting you to safety, okay?” Even though she’d been instructed to grab the princess, she looped her other arm around the other girl as well, wheeling her around to her back. The girl clung on. “Hold on!” Grabbing the princess and holding her to her chest, Miho leapt up and out of the fray.

“Go! Go! Go! Go! Go, Miho!”

The positive was that the bandits didn’t have ninja training. Their speed and strength wasn’t honed for battle with shinobi. Gemna-sensei was cutting them down in droves. Fifty to forty— forty to thirty— It was only a matter of time.

Miho settled on a ledge and looked back, seeing Tetsuya slam a bandit away. Koji had collected nearly all of the merchants and was ushering them down the path, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder at Miho and Tetsuya. Tetsuya—

A bandit was approaching his blind spot.

Until the bandit’s eyes went wide and he fell forward, a rain of kunai impaling his back. Genma-sensei.

Heart racing, Miho turned and kept running. Tetsuya was on her heels.

“Oh, my dear, my dear. You’re a fast one.”

Skidding on the side of a cliff, chakra holding her to the stone, Miho tightened her grip on the smaller girl. Feeling the older girl’s hold tighten in fear, she dropped down to a nearby ledge to stand upright, allowing gravity to give the girls some support.

The man from before— undone kimono laid over rough pants and a white shirt— looked up from his nails where he sat on a boulder nearby. She felt uneasy, terrified that this man was different from the rest. His entire demeanor was dangerous, sending shivers down her spine. For him to cut her off so easily, he had to be a shinobi, or at least have shinobi training.

Her heart thundered.

Damn it.

Tetsuya landed in front of her, dropping into a defensive crouch.

The man tutted, shaking his head. He crossed on leg over the other, brushing his white hair over his shoulder with a weirdly dramatic flair.

“And a hero arrives.”

“Get out of here, Miho.”

“Perhaps we should get better acquainted? I’m Taiki.”

“Don’t really care who you are.” Tetsuya retorted, edging backward. Miho matched the movement, adjusting her hold on the princess, who hid her face in Miho’s meaty shoulder.

The man— Taiki, the fearsome leader of the Mount Kaou bandits— shrugged. “I suppose there’s no accountin’ for poor manners. Eh, princess?” The girl whimpered.

She wondered if Tetsuya’d already done the risk assessment. The girls’ safety was paramount, and Genma-sensei would make short work of the other bandits. He’d be along shortly as back-up and Koji was too far away for support.

In the meantime, Miho knew she was the stronger fighter. Tetsuya knew it as well.

If they tried to switch the burden, then the man would attack.

Dammit.

“Girls, listen to me, okay?”

The princess winced, but nodded. She felt the older girl on her back hold tighter, grasping at her yukata sleeves.

“As soon as I set you down, I want you to run over there and hide. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Miss Kunoichi.”

“Tetsuya.”

“Got it, Chubs.”

The bandit let out a guffaw, throwing his head back in laughter. Miho took the opportunity to set the girls down. They immediately did as they were told, bolting for an outcropping of rocks about thirty feet away. Miho sidled herself in front of them, bending her knees and pulling her elbows in to her taijutsu stance. Taiki stopped laughing, seeming to wipe tears from his bright green eyes.

“Ah, ‘Chubs,’ then?”

Miho heard Tetsuya growl, drawing the sword from his back. He didn’t have enough training to go head-to-head with anyone. “That’s not a name you get to use, you freak.”

The guy shrugged. “Don’t really care for getting permission, punk. I can call her whatever I want. How about— ‘dead.’” Miho blocked the blow, swinging her bō around to block his strike. The bandit leader towered over her and swirled away when Tetsuya attempted to shred his back with kunai. “You really think your captain can handle all of my men?”

“Hell yeah he can.”

Miho gathered chakra, pushing it into her center. She could feel the energy from her fat rumbling, building, pulling, and pushing as her skin stretched and her bones dislodged. Launching forward, she rolled into the Leaf-Style Taijutsu: Human Bullet Tank, slamming into the leader while he was distracted by Tetsuya’s aerials. Pushing chakra into her fat, she doubled in weight for the moment of impact, sending Taiki careening into the base of a nearby cliff.

He hit with such force that the wall cratered around him.

Releasing the jutsu, Miho’s bones and fat slid back into place and she spun to a stop, crouched a few feet from where Tetsuya landed.

“Fall back to the girls, Stringbean.”

He nodded, moving to cover them.

From the passage to the right—where she expected Genma-sensei was still meting out rewards— three bandits appeared, bloodied and bruised. Their eyes collectively widened as their boss pushed himself upright, blood covering the left side of his face. Miho felt a flush of vicious satisfaction. His pretty boy routine was over.

“That’s it. I’m killing you first, girlie.”

Miho withdrew the metal bō from her arm guard, falling back into stance. “Could you be any creepier?”

“Do you know what we do with girls like you, sweetheart?” One of the bandits asked, hobbling toward his leader. Miho gritted her teeth at the implication, reminded of Seki’s daughter. She reaffirmed her grip on the bō and took a calming breath, like how Elder Torifu had taught her. “They don’t make it long.”

“We don’t have time for this. Boss, we gotta go!” One of the other bandits said, rushing forward to hold his leader upright with a hand to his chest. “The rest of the guys are…They’re gone! We need to get out—Boss!”

Miho blocked the blow of his two long knives, struggling to breath at the intense smell of perfume that struck her. The floral scent struck her harder than his blades. Taiki grinned down at her, blood on his teeth. Again, she felt the rush of satisfaction and it must’ve shown on her face.

“You think you can beat me, sweetheart? Me? I’m leader of the Mount Kaou bandits! Maybe I won’t kill you. Maybe I’ll—”

She heard Tetsuya’s yell, distracting her just enough for Taiki to disengage one of the knives from her bō, sweeping it across her gut. She hissed, withdrawing back. She’d felt the slice.

Miho felt the breath get knocked out of her in the next moment. She rolled to the ground about fifty feet away, head pounding and blood pulsing in her ears. Her stomach was aching, burning, tearing. It hurt.

“Miho!”

Scrambling to her knees, Miho watched the three bandits circling to Tetsuya. Tetsuya, who kept sending worried looks her way. 

Up! Up! Up!

Struggling to her feet, she took a couple steps forward.

It felt like the energy just…melted from her. She stumbled and reached up to grab the wooden bō from her back. The leader grinned through the blood.

“Just don’t know when to back down, do you?”

            I'm not gonna run away and I never go back on my word, that is my nindō! My ninja way.

She could feel the blood sliding down from her stomach and onto the front of her pants. Unsure of how much damage had been done, she resolved not to look down. A strike to the gut could be fatal. But she wasn’t dead yet.

She reached into her pocket with her free hand and felt around for the pill pack. The leader was approaching, smirking.

Smirking like he’d already won. Smirking like he enjoyed the damage he’d done.

He probably did enjoy it.

A cruel man like him would enjoy hurting anyone.

"You're not ready for me, sweetheart."

But he wasn’t going to enjoy the next part.

Tetsuya was yelling as he fought. Three against one. She could hear one gurgling as he fell to the ground. Two against one. Too many and Tetsuya was bound to lose. Miho had to protect him. Protect him and those girls. 

Her thumb found the right door on the pill case.

Miho shook her head. "No, it's you who's not ready for me."

Chapter Text

The pill was between her teeth. The capsule was starchy, leaving an uncomfortable grit on her tongue. Narrowing her eyes at the smirking bandit leader, Miho flinched at the images that filled her mind. Not images of the future or of Naruto. Not the impending doom, the mangled bodies and the blood-red moon. No, images of how she’d tear him apart. She pressed the pill between her incisors to cut the film. The sharp cut of coppery spinach struck her tongue. Just as her teeth began to cut into the pill—

“Stop, Miho.” 

Feeling a presence behind her— and the all-consuming, sweltering, festering Killing Intent— Miho turned to find Genma-sensei dropping the third body of the three bandits to the ground. She could feel the pill fizzling on her tongue. Tetsuya stood behind him, winded and bloodied, but alive. He looked at their teacher in no little awe. Miho could barely process how fast their teacher had to move to kill three men in mere seconds.

Senbon still in his mouth, her teacher’s eyes trailed to her. She could see the critical assessment. She turned just a bit more, so he could see the gut wound— however bad it was. His dark eyes widened just a bit before she saw his jaw set.

The Killing Intent that flooded the valley was palpable. It made her knees shake.

Pulling in a breath through her nose, Miho held up her unbloodied hand and spat the pill back out, shoving it into her pocket. It had already begun to disintegrate and she could feel the slightest rush of energy flood her upper back and arms. It felt like a rush of adrenaline and lactic acid.

In a blink, Genma-sensei was in front of her. He was so good at the Body Flicker technique that he seemed to appear from thin air. She couldn’t even sense his chakra (though admittedly, she was terrible at sensing).

“You must be their teacher.” Taiki surmised with a laugh. “A little late to our party.”

“A party? Must've lost my invite.” He switched the senbon to the right side of his mouth.

Then, with frightening calm, he reached up and pulled the senbon from his lips.

“Your girl there was about to show me a good time.”

“Wouldn’t have been so good for you,” Genma-sensei shrugged.

“I don’t know—”

Genma-sensei’s fingers were empty.

Miho turned to see the man grasping his throat, eyes wide as his hands tore at the skin of his neck leaving red gouges in the skin. He gasped for air with increasingly frantic movements until he dropped. His grey eyes were wide and unseeing as foam spilled from his mouth onto the rocks.

“I'll have to get a refund for the platter I ordered.”

Genma-sensei turned, lowering himself down to one knee. His right hand pressed to her stomach, brows pulled together as he flashed her a concerned look. “Considerin’ you’re not spilling out intestines, he just nicked you. Feeling dizzy at all?” His left hand came up to rest on her shoulder. “Any poison symptoms?”

“N-No, sensei.” Miho glanced down to see that her yukata was cut and her skin blow that was sliced cleanly open— about five or six inches and enough to split the skin. The weight of her stomach drew the skin down. Not nearly as bad as she had imagined, thanks to the fat around her middle. “I— No. No poison.”

“Good. Okay.” Reaching down, he cradled an arm under her shoulders and flickered them over to where Tetsuya was standing. Miho stumbled a bit before Genma-sensei caught her and gently set her on a nearby rock. “Tetsuya, help her get bandaged up. This time, it really is just a flesh wound. You’re putting that medical kit to good use. Princess? My Lady, you can come out now.”

Tetsuya looked at the blood and blanched, eyes trailing back up to her face.

Miho forced a smile, leaning back to give him better access to the wound. Tetsuya sat his pack down and withdrew his medical kit, having been named the surest medic among them. She saw his hands shaking and reached down to press a hand to his shoulder.

“We’re okay, Tetsuya.”

He stilled and stopped hunting for his medical kit. Miho wondered vaguely how Koji was going to react when he found out. Not well, she figured. Tetsuya heaved in a breath and held it. Then he let it go and went back to finding his kit. “You— You almost took the pill.”

Miho nodded, leaning back to pull the yukata top up a bit. Tetsuya cut her a look.

“I need to get stronger.”

“Me too. I can’t— I can’t let you be the frontliner.”

Saying nothing, Miho watched as he set out the antiseptic and bandages. Luckily, despite the deepness of the cut, it wasn’t bleeding as bad. Like blood melting through the fat. When he surged the antiseptic through the slice, Miho hissed and squeezed her eyes shut.

“That— That pill— It wouldn’t have killed me, Tetsuya.”

“You seem to think that it might not kill me is fair game, Miho. It’s not.”

That wasn’t what she said.

Chuckling, Miho opened her eyes and turned to where she sensed they were being watched. One of the little girls— not the princess, but the older one— was watching from where she stood. Tetsuya scoffed at Miho’s disregard for his words. She figured he’d bring it up later when he had Koji to back him up.

“Are you going to die?” The little girl asked, looking both upset and fascinated at the same time. Miho wasn’t quite shocked, but she was thrown a bit off-kilter as the girl approached. Tetsuya choked on nothing. “My father got cut like that, but it was…messier.”

It felt like cold water had been thrown over Miho and she sucked in a breath, knowing that a few inches less fat would’ve made the difference between life and death.

“I’m not going to die. I’m sorry about your father though.”

“It was when I was littler.” She waved it off as if it was nothing and moved closer, looking curiously at the cut Tetsuya was taping shut. “Lord Hori is going to have me train to be a healer.”

Miho smiled. “Do you want to be a healer?”

The girl approached even closer and nodded. “I’ve always wanted to be a healer. My father was a healer.”

Miho wondered vaguely what her biological father did. After all, it was her biological mother that was the Akimichi. The thought made her feel a bit guilty. Her father was a great shinobi— Akimichi Chōza, who—

Swallowing down a grunt from a particularly painful pull on the wound, Miho glanced to Tetsuya and nodded at him. “Could you help him out?” Holding out her arm for the girl to see another cut, Miho gestured to it. “I think I got a few more cuts than he can handle.” Tetsuya stared up at her and glared before gesturing for the girl to come closer. “What’s your name?”

“Reiko. I’m the lady-in-waiting to Princess Noriko.”

The princess, who was currently approaching with her hands wringing in front of her dress, heard her name mentioned and glanced up. “I am Princess Noriko.”

“Hello, Princess Noriko. I’m Akimichi Miho. This is my teammate, Utatane Tetsuya. Our other teammate— the guy who took your merchants to safety— his name is Koji.”

Tetsuya laid a bandage over the wound and had her sit up, bracing one end of the bandage to the front and reaching around as far as he could go. Miho went to grab the gauze, but Reiko stepped forward and helped it around to where Tetsuya took hold of it again. He muttered a ‘thank you.’

“You were very brave to save us.” Princess Noriko commented, stepping up to Miho’s side. She bowed her head a bit. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Poor girl sounded tired and frightened and overwhelmed and way older than her age. Miho wondered if that’s what it was like for royalty. “Glad that we were able to help. Genma-sensei, what’s the plan?”

“I’ve already sent a notice to the River King. I would bet that a new escort will arrive by evening. We’ll rest up and head out tomorrow afternoon.”

Miho pulled her yukata down and looked to where Reiko was fishing pebbles out of the gouge on her upper arm. “Did Koji make it down safely?”

“He’s fine. Not very happy at the moment.”

“He’ll get less happy when he hears you’re injured.” Tetsuya commented, handing Reiko the bandages. Rising up from his crouch, Miho looked up at him and waited for whatever was on the tip of his tongue. “Later.”

“Later.” Miho nodded.

“I'm running a perimeter check before we move to meet up with Koji in the town.” Genma-sensei stated, pulling a senbon out of his pack and slipping it between his lips.

His eyes were still cold as they had been before, but, as Miho thanked the girl and pushed herself up to stand, he smiled. Tetsuya handed her the bō, which he’d grabbed from where it’d fell during the battle.

“We’re okay, Genma-sensei. Don’t worry about us. We’ll guard the girls.”

Tetsuya nodded in agreement, earning a very rare pat on the crown of his head from their teacher. Genma-sensei disappeared.

“My father will be grateful.” Princess Noriko stated, demurely bowing her head. Miho could hear the emotion she was barely holding back. “I— We— My mother was…lost.” Biting her lip, Miho reached into her pocket and withdrew a cookie, handing it over to the princess, who stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“When I’m sad, I eat.”

Miho smiled when the girl took it, nibbling a bit at the edges. She looked more her age then, easing into being a kid rather than being a princess. Tetsuya grabbed his pack and happened to kick the head of one of the bandits as he moved.

“Stay still, Chubs. Eat more.”

Saluting him, she set to work on a bag of chips. She could see his plan. She was close protection. He was intermediate. Smiling, she handed a different bag of chips to Reiko.

It was hours before they made it down from the mountain. Her head ached the entire journey, steps unsteady and uneven over the rocks. Tetsuya carried Reiko, sticking close to Miho’s side in case she toppled down the hills. Genma-sensei carried the princess, telling her bits and pieces about his adventures as a shinobi.

The River King acknowledged Genma-sensei’s message and was coming personally to get his girl. They’d have to remain in Rockfall village until he arrived with his contingent.

Miho held herself upright as best as she could when they entered the village limits, trying not to look too pale or sweaty or in pain. Tetsuya scoffed at her effort, shaking his head as he set the girl down. Reiko immediately went to her princess’s side, leaving Miho and Tetsuya alone for the first time in hours.

“You’re not gonna fool him. He’s not stupid.”

“Not trying to fool him. Just—”

“Koji can handle it, Miho. He can focus on the mission and be worried about you. If I can do it, so can he.”

When Miho glanced his direction, she saw that his hands were planted on his hips and his eyes were narrowed and there was no way she was going to win this argument. “Fine, fine. There’s something else bothering you though.”

“Yeah? What else could be bothering me, Chubs?” He rolled his eyes, shoving both hands into his pockets in a manner very reminiscent of their teacher. “Could it be that you defaulted to frontliner? Or that you got hurt? Or that you almost took that stupid pill instead of taking off your weights? Or that I distracted you which gave that bastard an opportunity to attack? What part do you think bothers me?”

“I…screwed up. I forgot about the weights.”

“You…forgot about the weights? What do you mean you ‘forgot about the weights’?”

Scuffing her shoe in the dirt, Miho sighed. “I forgot I was wearing them. But I mean, yeah…all of this sucked, but…none of us—”

“Don’t say it.”

Miho looked up to see Koji.

She flinched at the expression on his face. Like an earthquake given human form, all intensity and rumbling while the surface held smooth— only a few scant cracks.

And those cracks were his eyes.

“Genma-sensei told me to come see ya.” He cut Tetsuya a glance before focusing on Miho. “Said you got hurt.”

Genma-sensei was playing favorites, Miho thought dryly. After all, he thought Koji could be a prodigy marksman. And he thought the bandana was cute. And Koji was slowly starting to take up his oral fixation. And throwing her to the wolves was just cruel, honestly.

Koji stepped forward, looking to Tetsuya for an explanation.

“She got stabbed.”

Miho’s mouth dropped open. “I did not get stabbed.”

“Oh yeah? What would you call that then? Sliced?” Tetsuya crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one leg. Oh, Miho realized. He’s ready to argue. She was too tired for this. “And! And! She forgot to take off her weights. She defaulted to the first dang pill!”

“Tetsuya!”

“Miho!”

“Koji, seriously!”

“Genma-sensei!” The three looked over to where their teacher stood, hands stuffed into his pockets. “You kids wanna hang out over here or you wanna help finish the mission?” He waited, watching them. “I seriously did send you to get them, Koji, not to chastise Miho. We can all do that later.”

Miho felt her mouth drop open, walking a couple steps behind the two boys. They both kept looking back, as if she drop like a sake of potatoes if they went without seeing her for more than a couple seconds. “I did what I had to do!”

“No one’s arguin’ that.”

“It’s the pills. We need to figure out something else.” Tetsuya noted as they arrived to Genma-sensei’s side.

“This mission gave us a lot to work on.” They looked up at their teacher. “We’ll go over notes on the way back. In the meantime, it’s time to work on your diplomacy skills. What do you know about the relationship between Tani and Konoha?”

They started walking down the main village path toward where the merchants and escort caravan where housed at the main inn. Miho pressed a hand to her stomach to keep it steady and went through the linkages in her mind.

All the constellations she’d built over years and years was now a network of old memories, Images, and information she’d read in old Akimichi scrolls.

“Tanigakure doesn’t like us. However, a lot of people don’t like Tani— even the River Kingdom.” Miho ticked off the things she knew on her left hand. “The Land of Rivers has been a land of constant battle. It’s the River Kingdom that actually holds power there. Tani had little-to-no sway.”

“Read that in a book, Chubs?”

“Actually, yeah, I did.”

Koji snorted.

Genma-sensei stopped, turning to face them at the corner of the inn. “The mission parameters changed because the Hokage has been working on restoring relations with the Land of Rivers since the Second Great Shinboi War. Sorry to say, we’re gonna have to politic the hell outta this.”

While Koji deflated, shoulders curving forward and eyes looking away, Miho and Tetsuya stood firm. Miho knew that Tetsuya had been raised to be politically-savvy. After all, he was the grandson of Utatane Koharu, a member of the Konoha Council.

Miho straightened and swallowed down a swell of exhaustion and fear. This mission wasn’t over.

“Stringbean, help me get this pack off.”

He did as she asked as Genma-sensei kept his eyes on the road, no doubt keeping an eye out for the royal caravan. She smiled at Koji, who held the pack up for her as she rifled through to find the scarf.

Pulling it out, she double folded it and pulled it around her waist, hiding the blood and cinching the injury. The added pressure made it feel more secure and the fine material made her outfit look more presentable. “Tie me off, please.”

Tetsuya set about folding the fabric. Meanwhile, Miho downed three cookies. “Koji, since you’re not our diplomacy go-to, can you—”

“You sayin’ something about my people skills?”

Tetsuya laughed. “Sayin’ a lot about your people skills.”

“Focus, kids.” Genma-sensei muttered, rolling his eyes. “Tetsuya, you good?”

Her teammate shrugged, releasing the bow he’d tied with the scarf. Miho wondered if it looked like an obi with as long as he’d spent folding the fabric. “You hang around my grandmother for long and you’re always ready for politics.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road.”

The River King was a beautiful man. Miho had never thought of a man as beautiful before. It was almost unfair, she thought, as he approached on horseback. He looked like something out of a fairy tale, donning shimmering blue fabrics with brown flowing hair that seemed to catch some unfelt wind. Angular features and a strong jaw line. Miho wondered if it was even possible for such a pretty man to be a good man too.

“Father!”

Princess Noriko was obviously breaking protocol as her father swung off his horse to gather her up.

His hair was as long as his daughter was tall.

It was an odd thing to notice.

The contingent of men behind him were not shinobi, which Miho thought was strange given that the Land of Rivers did have Tanigakure.

The River King rose, his daughter in his arms. Reiko approached with more courtesy and was rewarded with a smile and a pat on the head.

“You’ve done well, Reiko. You were very brave, I’m sure.” His attention turned to Genma-sensei. “You have my sincerest thanks. My daughter was journeying to visit the Fire Daimyo. We are working to secure peace with the Land of Fire through trade.” His attention flickered down and Miho stood a bit straighter. She could feel Tetsuya doing the same.

“That’s Miss Kunoichi Miho! She and Mister Shinobi Tetsuya saved us, Father!”

Reiko agreed. “Miss Miho was hurt trying to protect us.”

Miho tried not to flush. Instead, she focused on cataloguing all of the ways this could work well for Konoha and for the mission. When she looked up, it was accidently into the tall king’s eyes.

“Thank you for saving my daughter and niece. I, and the River Kingdom, am in your debt.”

Bowing formally, Miho gritted her teeth through the pain that lanced through her abdomen. She could hide it well enough from civilians. “I am glad I was in the right place do to so, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, we’re happy we were able to help.” Tetsuya bowed next to her, cutting her a look in the bow. He was worried.

She eased herself up and looked to their teacher. In her peripheral vision, she could see Reiko studying her stance and focusing hard on her stomach.

In other circumstances, Miho would’ve just passed it off as normal. When she glanced in the girl’s direction, she smiled and nodded. She really was fine. Everyone could stop worrying.

“Konoha heard of the attacks on Rockfall Village and we were sent to investigate. It was very fortunate we were able to step in when we did.”

The River King nodded, expression becoming grave. Miho idly wondered if anyone in Konoha had eyes like that. She couldn’t remember anyone that had eyes like that.

“I, too, had heard of the Mount Kaou villains, but we do not have the resources to root out such foes. Our hope was that the Spirit Mountain band would repel them, but…We have lost all contact with Spirit Mountain.”

Miho kept her mouth shut, but wondered why the royal house would have contact with a bandit gang. It was odd outside of negotiations for any government to be in direct conversation with bandits and outlaws.

“Should you ever have need of me or of the Land of Rivers…” The King handed her teacher a scroll. The blue paper was shimmery like the River King’s clothing. It looked like water in sunlight. “You need only contact me via this scroll. Please convey my deepest regret to your Hokage that our previous history has been so fraught. Perhaps we can endeavor to do better by our younger generations.”

That was certainly surprising. What happened to Tanigakure? Why were they— silent? Tanigakure would not be so amiable to peace with the Land of Fire or Konoha.

Miho watched as he sat the princess down and turned to his men, the gathered banners.

Miho looked down to find Reiko and Princess Noriko approaching. Slowly, Miho lowered herself down to one knee to get on their level.

“When I get older, I want to be like you, Miss Kunoichi Miho.” Princess Noriko stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Miho felt a bit disoriented by that statement. Enough so that even her balance shifted. She felt Tetsuya grab her shoulder to steady her. “I don’t wanna run away either. I want to be strong and powerful! That way, I can be a good princess!”

She swept forward and threw her arms around Miho, not realizing that the pressure made Miho want to scream out in pain. She bit her lip and pressed it down and out, away. She controlled it.

“And I really like your cookies!”

Miho laughed.

Hours later, she sat on a bed at the inn. Genma-sensei was redressing the wound while the boys were finishing their repacking on the floor. His senbon hadn’t moved in thirty minutes, a pretty dangerous sign.

“Remember what I said about taking hits and getting up and that leading to overconfidence?”

Miho cringed. “Yes, sensei.”

“You need to get better at thinking on your feet. If you took that pill today, you might’ve died.”

She heard the boys stop packing, all movement in the room ceasing. While she knew that dying was a risk, it also wasn’t likely. The spinach pill would’ve only consumed 25% of her reserved calories. Her genetics-- from her biological parents, whoever they were--that somehow made her weight distribution different. Two pills was all she had. It was the yellow pill that would kill her, not the green one. It shouldn’t have been her first choice, but—

“Stop thinking about how to justify it and just listen.”

Eyes snapping up to her teacher’s face, she watched as he sat back on the edge of the bed and looked to his bloodied hands. She was still bleeding, though it was mostly staunched. And, for the first time, she realized that her teacher had the blood of a student on his hands.

Her heart stuttered.

Tetsuya, earlier, had her blood on his hands.

She felt sick.

“You’re gonna be a frontliner. There’s no way around that, Miho. Just because you can take hits, doesn’t mean it’s smart. You need to think more strategically.”

Taking hits was her plan.

Being a shield.

Miho bit the inside of her lip and screwed her eyes shut.

Strategy had never been her strength. She relied a lot on Ino and now, Shikamaru, for strategy. Focus and thinking during battle had always been something with which she struggled. And now, she’d paid the price for it.

How could she be a shield? How could she best guard the backs of the people she cared about?

“Training.”

It almost seemed as though Genma-sensei was reading her mind. He glanced down at her and nodded.

“When we get back, your training doubles.”

“Okay, Genma-sensei.”

“Koji, you’ve got the steadiest hand. I want you to take additional medical courses at the hospital. We need someone proficient in medical treatment.”

She glanced over to see Koji nodding. His bandanna was off and his dark blue hair fell into his face.

“Tetsuya, you’re starting hard-core kenjutsu training. Not the half-ass stuff you’ve been doing with me. I’m calling in a favor.”

Tetsuya smiled, an eager tint to his eyes. “Alright, Genma-sensei.”

“And Miho?” She looked up at her teacher and waited. He turned and stared down at her for a long moment before sighing. “You’re a heavy hitter and you’re smart. Now, we need those two things to actually work together. I’ve got a colleague I think can help and you start with him as soon as we get back.”

“Okay, sensei.” For some reason, she felt the next words come out without thought. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, senbon moving to the other side of his mouth as his eyebrows quirked. “Don’t apologize. You’re learning.”

“I worried the boys.”

“Eh, yeah, they’re cute like that.” She ignored their screeching, but knew it was all playful ribbing. “I’m sure they’ll pay you back in spades somehow.”

Koji held grudges.

For some reason, Miho’d never realized this. When it wasn’t directed at her, she’d never really paid attention to it. Like how he would rudely ignore when someone was talking or act like he couldn’t understand them. Or when he stuck a pinky in his ear and acted as if there were some physical reason why he couldn’t hear them.

“What was that you were saying, Miho?”

Shooting Tetsuya a look behind Koji’s back, she sighed. “I said, I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Sorry, but it sounded a lot like ya just said ya don’t need ta go to the hospital. But I know I ain’t hearin’ ya right because that’s stupid.”

Miho heaved in a breath and held it, ignoring the searing sensation across her stomach as she turned to face their teacher. He looked calm-as-you-please, head upturned to the bright blue sky.

“Is this what you meant, sensei? Koji’s gonna mother-hen me into compliance?”

“Saw it comin’ a mile away.” Genma-sensei shrugged.

“Tetsuya and Genma-sensei treated it yesterday, Koji. It’s fine. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

Koji turned around and gave her the harshest look she’d ever received from him and it sent shivers down her spine. “Look, sweetheart, your good ol’ buddy Koji’s just tryin’ to look out for ya. Tryin’ to be a good teammate. And you’re not makin’ it easy.”

Guilt-tripping too. Koji was really coming into his own with this.

Miho sighed.

“Fine! I’ll go to the dang hospital.”

Tetsuya held up his right hand, balling his fingers into a fist. Koji answered with his left, tapping their knuckles together.

“They’re tag-team mother-henning! This isn’t fair!”

Genma-sensei chuckled. “If you don’t want your team to mother-hen you, then make good choices.” They arrived at the front gate desk, stepping into the shade to see two chūnin guards with the sign-in roster already prepped. “Kamizuki, has Hagane run off again?” Miho tried not to smile at the expression of utter defeat on the guard’s face. “Team Five returning from a C-rank.”

“Kotetsu is off on his lunch break.” Kamizuki responded as Miho and the boys signed into the roster. “But if you happen to see him…loitering, kick him for me.”

Genma-sensei saluted, turning to face Team Five after they stepped a few feet into the village. “Koji, Tetsuya…Take Miho to the hospital to get checked out. Tetsuya, write the report this evening and submit tomorrow morning. Koji, Miho, write yours and get it to Tetsuya tonight so he can compile.” Miho nodded, fingers itching for potato chips.

“I will report to the Hokage. Rest tomorrow. We’ll meet at Training Ground 5 the day after— usual time.”

That said, he disappeared.

Miho deflated, grabbing the bag of chips from her pocket and sliding one onto her tongue. She let it sit there for a few moments as Koji glared at her to start moving. The salt was comforting.

“We’re not mad at you. We’re worried.”

Koji folded his arms behind his head and looked away. She felt Tetsuya on her other side, hovering. Just as he’d done the entire trip back.

“I already apologized for worrying you. I get it— defaulting to the pill was a bad idea.”

“That’s not—”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Miho stopped, turning to stare at her teammates. They both were so different in their anger. Koji was outright with it. It boiled over and spiked. Tetsuya’s was a roiling seethe just under the surface.

“We’re not idiots, Miho. We’re all gonna get hurt. To be mad at ya for that would be stupid. We’re not stupid.”

“It…We’ve gotta get so much better. We can’t be in that kind of situation again. The only reason we survived was because of Genma-sensei. What happens when he’s not there?” Tetsuya heaved in a great breath and held it. After a moment, he brushed his bangs out of his face and squared his shoulders.

Koji reached forward and grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Miho wondered if he’d somehow gotten taller on that mission. He seemed taller somehow.

“You can count on me. We’ll all get stronger.”

“Me, too. Soon, three bandits like that will be nothing. Trust me, Miho.”

“Team Five can’t lose a member, Miho. We can’t lose each other. You have our word. Do we have yours?”

Miho swallowed, nodding before she even realized what she was doing. Agreeing to something like that was…heavy. It was terrifying. It felt like a sentence. It felt like the scariest thing to promise.

          With what was coming, was it even possible?

“Now, c’mon. I seriously think you need stitches. Those pieces of tape aren’t gonna cut it.”

In the shadow of the Hokage Monument again, Akimichi Miho walked through the streets of Konoha seeing flashes of ruin— of a future that was approaching with frightening speed. And she promised her team that they wouldn’t lose a member.

She just prayed that she didn’t just seal their fate by agreeing. She prayed that the narrative forgave her.

Because when telling a story, it was often those kinds of promises that got broken first.

“And you believe they are not ready?”

He tried very hard not to hear the disappointment in the Hokage’s tone.

Shiranui Genma knew what the old man wanted: a showing of each new genin team in the upcoming Chūnin Exams. International prestige, a demonstration of strength.

While some of the other teams may have been ready, his was not. He wasn’t about to throw them into something for which he felt they were ill-prepared. After all, he just returned from a situation where he did just that. The ripple effects of that FUBAR mission would be far-reaching.

Especially now that his students now had a B-rank in the books instead of a C-rank.

He didn’t like it.

Not at their age. Not during peacetime.

“They’re not ready, Lord Hokage.”

“That is…unfortunate. It may be useful for them to experience the exams without pressure to reach the chūnin level. As a way to diversify their knowledge. After all, they will be able to witness the fighting styles of various regions.”

The Hokage was trying to sell it, which was far more effort than Genma was expecting. Especially when Lord Sarutobi could just order Team Five to participate. Genma could sense it in the air of the office, especially with the way the other teachers were shifting. The only one that seemed to be on his side was Iruka-sensei. And that was for the entirely wrong reasons. Everyone else knew what was coming and pitied him for thinking he could get his team out of it.

“With what you have told me, Genma, they exhibit strong skills in teamwork.”

“They do, sir. However, they have not yet fully developed their individual skills. I aimed to specialize their training upon our return.”

Genma hated being cornered like this. He walked in from one hell of a mission into a jōnin teacher meeting, blind-sided by the Hokage’s questions regarding his team’s exam nomination. He’d never intended to nominate them. Not the first time out.

“I will defer to you, sir, but I do not recommend them for the exams.”

“The experience will be good for them.” Genma didn’t roll his eyes at the final tone. He knew as soon as he initially refused that the Third would still make them participate. The old man wanted the theatre of all new teams participating. The Konoha 15. The Rookie 12. “Team Five will participate and I do hope for a good showing from them.”

Just because his kids had to participate didn’t mean that they had to make it past the first test. They didn’t even have to make it to the first test. Genma nodded easily, flicking his senbon with his tongue.

“And they will try their best, for the good of Konoha.”

Damn it.

“Yes, Lord Hokage.”

Genma bowed and stepped back in line with the other teachers. Keeping his face completely devoid of emotion, he fell back into his mind and tuned out the remainder of the meeting. Team Seven, Eight, and Ten, as well as Gai’s team. Gai’s team— who already had a year of preparation under their belts! Eight and Ten— full of clan heirs. Seven— which was politically-stacked and required to participate out of principle. Teams Two and Four were hardly prepared. No way they would make it past the first round. 

But his kids?

Individually, his team wasn't ready for this. Together, they'd make it far enough to be in danger. There was already so much to work on with the kids. This expedited the timeline by weeks. If they made it past the second round...

If they were to have any chance of surviving...

Genma didn’t even spare the door a glance when the meeting was dismissed. He took off out the window and headed for ANBU headquarters.

Miho had every intention of keeping her injury a secret. After all, it was already healed.

There was no reason to concern her family with something that was in the past. She was welcomed home to a spread of absolutely scrumptious food: noodles and grilled meats and pickled cabbage and beautiful, beautiful deserts. She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek for the effort and dug in, excitedly telling her about the Mount Kaou bandits and the beautiful River King.

Chōji arrived from his missions looking exhausted until he glanced up from slipping off his shoes and saw her sitting at the kitchen table. Miho nearly spat out her mouthful of noodles with the force of his hug.

“You’re back! We were all so shocked that you got an overnight mission! But then it ended up being longer than you said and we got worried. Are you okay? What happened?”

Miho gulped down the mouthful and grinned, batting at the red scarf he wore. He beamed, hopping into the chair by her. Their mother sat a plate of steaming pork buns on the table and sat down as well, ready to listen to the stories again.

She skipped the part about getting sliced in each telling.

Sure, it would’ve added some dramatic flair, but she really didn’t want them to worry. After all, she was healed. Chōji really didn’t need to distraction either, especially with all the progress he seemed to have made in family jutsus while she was gone. He was worried enough as it was— what with the world-ending knowledge of the future and all that.

“Miho, you’re back!”

Her father swept her into an embrace, pulling her fully off the floor and walking over to the porch. He sat her on his knee as if she were still just a little girl. Chōji hurried into the kitchen at their mother’s call for help with dinner. Miho grinned, pleased to have a sense of normalcy.

Normalcy wasn’t going to last much longer.

She forced that thought into the back of her mind.

“How was your first distance mission, sweet bun?”

In the third telling, Miho threw in additional details. The leader of the Mount Kaou bandits was hauntingly pretty with hair the color of moonlight and eyes like steel. He was quick as a viper and absolutely batshit insane. She told of how the mission parameters changed and how they rescued a princess. And how Genma-sensei destroyed at least half of a mountain gang.

“It was so cool!”

“I thought they were joking with the hero worship of Genma.” Chōza patted her bandage-wrapped leg. “Kakashi has been spreading the rumor that you’re all brainwashed.”

Just because his team wasn’t as cool…

“Genma-sensei is awe—”

“MIHO— MY BEAUTIFUL, YOUTHFUL FRIEND OF THE AGES! ARE YOU HEALED FROM YOUR GRIEVOUS INJURY? YOUR FIGHTING SPIRIT NEVER CEASES TO—”

Miho felt her heart stop as Lee landed in the clearing.

Grievous injury.

Those words rattled around in her brain. She felt her father tense.

His eyes widened, immediately sensing a shift in the air. Miho pushed herself off her father’s lap and stepped away, focusing on Lee instead of her father. Lee was a good distraction, even if all of what was to come was his fault. “Hi, Lee! Do you want to stay for dinner? See? I’m totally good!”

His attention flickered over her shoulder before he approached, significantly more subdued. His voice was more hushed, but it was only a courtesy. Any jōnin worth their rank would be able to hear his murmur. “I heard you were hurt, my friend. I came to check on you.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I’m fine, Lee. Got healed up at the hospital.” Miho patted her stomach where the slice had been. His eyes trailed down to her hand, eyes going a bit wide at the implication. The breath was knocked out of her in the next moment as he surged forward to grab her in a hug. “Lee, I promise— I’m okay! No way Team Five would’ve let me go home if I wasn’t.”

“It was your Rough and Tumble Koji that told me of your injury.”

Miho swore vengeance.

“Miho, a word? Lee, I am sure that Aiko would love help with dinner. She might even make your favorite.”

Lee took the dismissal with grace, smiling Brightly and Kindly as he made his way into the house. He glanced at her over his shoulder before disappearing from sight. Miho’s shoulders rounded and she turned to meet her fate. Sighing, she raised her eyes to her father’s.

“Let me guess, Miho. It ‘wasn’t a big deal.’”

She flinched.

“Why does it always seem that it is your Honor Brother that doesn’t abide your understatements and sidestepping?”

Miho bit back her kneejerk response: “It’s not in his nature.” That would’ve been a bad tone to set, she knew. Her father’s expression was severe, and it was bordering on Clan Head rather than Father.

“I didn’t want to worry Chōji.”

And really, that was the truth of it.

The bare bones truth.

Her brother had enough to worry about.

“Chōji is stronger than you are giving him credit for. This is another instance of you not trusting your brother.”

“I trust him. I—” She told him about the future, her dreams, what was coming. She trusted him and Shikamaru with more than she trusted anyone. She didn’t elect to tell Ino. She elected to tell Chōji and Shikamaru. That had to count for something. But it also meant that her brother had so much weight on his shoulders already. He was sweet and kind and good-hearted. He didn't need to know she was injured.

“No, you don’t or you would trust his ability to handle your injury. Miho, this is a reality of your profession. You cannot hide injuries from your family, no matter how much you wish not to worry us.”

Miho lowered her head and started down at the roll of fat that blocked her shoes. That fat had been cut just hours before. An outfit was forever ruined because of the blood stains and the severed cloth. Maybe there was more to it than that. The injury wasn’t a bad one, but it seemed like the ripples just kept forming waves.

“I almost took the green pill.”

She lifted her head and met her father’s eyes, which were open and critically assessing everything about her stance, expression, and chakra. The last time she’d seen him like this, trust had also been an issue. She’d made her own changes because of that conversation. 

She took steps to trust more, to do better.

But had he?

She tried not to let that bother her. She’d expected him to do too much— to bring Naruto into the fold more or to at least make moves to let Naruto know. But, nothing. Absolutely nothing in the weeks since then. She tried not to let that burn. She tried not to let that bother her.

But it did.

“I made a mistake. I forgot my weights. I got distracted. I got injured. And when I got desperate, I almost took the green pill. I spat it out before it took effect because Genma-sensei showed up. I didn’t think.”

After a long while, her father nodded, hands moving to rest on his knees as he leaned forward. His eyes were critical, narrowed. “What will you do differently?”

Miho stood there, hands tingling.

She wondered if she should list out the training regimen, she’d already worked out on the way back to Konoha. She wondered if she should describe the ideas that Genma-sensei had detailed— meditation and focus training with some unknown teacher. She even wondered if she should describe how she intended to take up the naginata, a more offensive weapon.

But, for some reason, as tired and exhausted as she was…The only thought that kept echoing in her mind was the fact that Naruto still didn’t know who his parents were.

It was a nonsensical thought, but it was there-- overriding everything else.

Even after she’d spoken to her father about it weeks before.

Even after she’d made it clear that her friend should know.

A rational part argued that change took time.

The louder part shouted that there was only so much time left.

“I want to know.”

Confusion. That was the first emotion on her father’s face. His brows knitted together and he sat back. Then, she saw the barest hint of conflict. Somehow, that only served to bolster her decision. “What do you mean, Miho?”

Swallowing down the flood of nervous energy like it was too large of a bite, Miho stepped forward and squared her shoulders.

“I want to know about my biological parents.”

Chapter Text

Carrying bags up the stairs took little effort— even if there were about twenty bags in-total and she had even more stuff in her backpack. Miho settled the plastic bags on the ground by the door and knocked, glancing about to the chipped paint and spiderwebs. She’d visited this place once before, but it had been at least a year since she’d stepped foot in the area. She avoided it because it made her feel terrible. Doing that, she realized, was no better than what anyone else in the village was doing. 

A mistake she was fixing now.

The door opened just a fraction and was then thrown open.

“Miho! You’re back! We only just got back a couple days ago! You wanna— What?” His eyes trailed down to the assortment of bags at their feet. For a moment, she thought he might glitch. “Whaddya got there?” He sounded skeptical. The image was only improved by his askew pajamas and the cap on his head. Cute. 

Miho grinned, scooping her arms down to grab the bags and step inside. “Grab that bag I left out there, would ya?”

“What— Miho, what’s all this, huh?” He did as she asked, grabbing the bag and hurrying after her. She made way to the kitchen, laughing a bit at the scattered trash and ramen cartons. On the table, she saw an open box of milk and a mess of empty containers with food still sitting in them. “Uh— I swear I was gonna clean, but then… Well, something more interesting came up, ya know.”

He was sounding a little too much like Kakashi-sensei.

Or, the Kakashi-sensei she remembered from the Images.

Stepping back from the counter, Miho gestured toward the groceries. “I brought food. I got you some fruits and vegetables— don’t make that face. Cooked right, they taste great! And they're from Akimichi farms in the southeast!” He bounded into the kitchen, looking at the bags with wide eyes. “I’ve got some bread loaves here and some muffins. The kind you like. I made them. And cookies. I made those too.” She held up a carton of the mission cookies, setting them on the counter. “I got you two cartons of milk. Throw that one away. Don’t leave them out.”

“Miho—”

“This is ramen." She held up a brightly-colored package and shook it. The ingredients rattled. "It’s a high protein version, okay? It’s a special Akimichi brand.” She’d brought twenty. Opening a cabinet door, she jumped back when the door came off the hinge and dangled there.

Anger flooded her as she stared at it.

How dare they—How dare they put him in a place like this?

“Hey, Miho…You okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I remembered you saying that you really didn’t have much food in your apartment. And I know you probably don't have much protein in your diet, too.”

“Miho.”

She stopped, turning to face him. After a long moment, she looked down at the ramen in her hand. “I know you probably have a team meeting. I just— I…”

She wanted to talk to someone who lost their parents the same day she did. She wanted to be with the son of the person her father died to protect. She wanted to do things right and stop screwing up.

Miho moved forward and hugged him. “I just needed a friend.”

Naruto returned the hug automatically, arms going as far around her as they could. Feeling tears in her eyes, she pulled away and turned back to the cabinet, hastily wiping them. She knew he saw, but he didn’t say anything. Naruto, for all of his brashness, wasn't a fool. 

“I heard you got hurt on your mission. Are you alright?”

“Lee really did spread the word, didn’t he?”

Lee was the very picture of contrition the night before, sending her puppy dog eyes over dinner. Dinner, which wasn’t nearly as awkward as it could’ve been. Her father had never been a terribly awkward man and luckily, Chōji already knew. And her mother would never purposefully make anyone feel uncomfortable. Lee just felt terrible for “sparking the flame of dissent.”

Miho didn’t see dissent. She saw an opportunity.

An opportunity for things to be better than they were before— to be honest.

It would be some time before the wounds between her father and her healed though. She was frustrated with him— with his inaction regarding Naruto. But then, could she blame him for that? His whole generation was frozen. They held so much trauma that it seemed as if they were all stuck. Just like how her father struggled to describe her birth mother.

"She was... She was my best friend. Liked books, like you. She was a good person."  That was all he was able to say before telling her that she needed to rest after her mission. He didn't go to bed though. He left out of the front door, likely going to the Naras or the Yamanakas or the local haunt of the Ino-Shika-Cho trio.

Chōji held her hand, sending her concerned looks between bites of his muffin. It was after dinner. Lee had already departed, throwing her desperately-sorry frowns as he disappeared into the night. Their father had just left and Miho stood staring at the door as if he might come back in and explain everything. Chōji had appeared at her side then, carefully taking her arm. “You okay?”

Miho shook her head. “I’m worried about Pa. I shouldn’t’ve…but I just got so frustrated. I got so mad. They still haven’t told Naruto.”

“You’ve talked to Pa about that?” Chōji knew, of course. He and the rest of Team Ten. She hadn’t had time to talk to them about it. It seemed there was so little time. So, so little time. “Maybe they’re scared?”

“Scared of what? Naruto’s reaction?”

Chōji’s head shook and he took another bite of muffin, guiding her into the living room.. “No, scared of all of it.” He shifted, lifting one leg onto the couch to look at her directly. Miho mirrored him. “I’m not mad at you for not telling me. I understand.” She blinked, feeling her eyes heat and tears start. Looking away, she focused on the family portrait on the wall.

Her brother held her hand tighter.

"Miho." She looked up to see her mother in the doorway. She smiled. "I've made you some cookies. Let's talk a bit, dear heart."

“Lee said you were sliced open.”

“That’s exaggerating a bit. It was a cut.” Miho finished packing up the ramen and went over to slice of pieces of zucchini banana bread. She baked it the previous night, listening to her mother tell her about her birth parents. How they met, things they did, how much they loved her. “It did open my eyes though. I need to get stronger, focus more. I need to be better. How was your mission?”

Naruto flew into the story of how there was a missing-nin and an evil businessman and a beautiful shinobi and how Sasuke almost died. Miho listened, ticking off the checklist of things that were meant to happen. All the while, Naruto downed half of the loaf and three glasses of milk.

She wondered vaguely if he was bigger than the original story because he at least had some steady food.

Instead of the nasty food he was given by the villagers.

Miho made a conscious effort not to grip the edge of the counter-top. She’d surely break it. She’d shatter it.

“I can’t think of us as tools. We’re not tools— we’re people. And I want to protect everyone I can. My precious people. That’s what I'm gonna do.”

Smiling, Miho sat down at the table (which was now clean and tidy thanks to her busybody cleaning) and nodded. “I feel the same way.”

“You always protect people, Miho. You protected me and Chōji.”

Her head shook. “Not like you can and will. I’ll do the best I can, but… I have faith in you, Naruto. You’ll be a better protector than all of us. Because that’s what a Hokage does. A Hokage is supposed to protect everyone, big and small and in-between.”

She watched his eyes go wide and she felt her smile fade. Her father— biological father, Okuda Keisuke— died to protect his father. The Fourth Hokage. The Fourth Hokage, who died protecting the village that same night. The Fourth Hokage, who believed so much in his village and was proven so wrong. The Fourth Hokage, whose legacy had no idea he was a legacy. 

But Naruto didn’t know. He didn’t know because no one told him.

And he suffered so much because no one wanted to be reminded of their failures.

And because no one wanted to take the chance.

She was taken in while he wasn’t.

So easily, things could have been different.

If someone had stepped up, things could have been so different.

“When you become Hokage, Naruto, I’m gonna be your guard.”

He sat straighter, shocked eyes become harder and more certain. It was the Naruto that he hid behind all the bluster and joking. Miho wondered if anything was changing by her doing this or if that change mattered at all anymore. Where Naruto was concerned, she didn’t care about the changes and the story.

She cared about him.

“I’ll become Hokage and I’ll protect everyone precious to me. And you won’t get hurt then— because I’ll protect you too.” Naruto held up a fist and stared at her, believing every word.

Miho shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’m gonna get hurt, Naruto. We all are. That’s okay though. If we just get hurt, then we can keep getting up, right? We choose how we react to hurt. The hurt can define us or it can inspire us.”

He nodded solemnly, but she could see that he wanted to argue. He wanted to make her see that he could— someday— protect everyone. And he just might. But Miho saw the Images. She saw the people he couldn’t protect-- many, many, many-- and she could only imagine the kind of weight that would put on his shoulders.

No, she would bear that weight herself.

One day, she’d tell him.

Maybe on that day, he’d hate her for her silence.

But…

That’s what a good guard does.

Shoulders the weight as best they can. Takes the hits.

Slapping the tops of her thighs, she pushed herself up and walked around the table to grab his plate and glass. Before moving away, she patted the side of his face. His eyes went wide with the gesture, a bit misty. She wondered, truly wondered, if anyone gave him affection.

“Get dressed, Future Hokage. I’ll walk with you to your team and then head on to my own meeting.”

He grinned, brighter and brighter until he careened forward to embrace her again around the middle with him half toppling out of his chair. Miho squeezed her eyes shut against the Images that assaulted her eyes— two people blocking a mighty claw with their bodies. “You’re the best, Miho!” He threw himself out of his chair and disappeared into his room. She heard a crash and a slew of curse words. “I’m good!”

If it came to it, Miho knew she’d lay down her life for Uzumaki Naruto the same way that Okuda Keisuke did for Namikaze Minato.

She’d come to Naruto’s apartment because it seemed like the calm in the eye of a hurricane. 

Even before she knew about her birth parents and their fate, she’d been on this path.

Before she knew of Okuda Keisuke, she was going to protect Naruto.

Now, she had to walk that path with more certainty than ever before.

No matter what she encountered.

Moving slowly, she withdrew a picture that her father had given her the previous night from the pocket of her pants. Her father’s hands had been shaking, quivering with barely controlled grief. But he was a strong man and he held the picture out to her with a sad smile. Her own hands were quaking now.

On it, a blond man and a red-headed woman— who was clearly hiding a pregnant belly— stood side-by-side with a large muscular man and big woman nearly his size. Both seemed to dwarf the other couple. They were all smiling, obviously joyful and excited about all the possibilities of life.

Miho sat it on the kitchen counter against a cup of high protein ramen and stepped back, knees shaking.

“Knock, knock. Who’s there? It’s Koji, Miho’s favorite teammate— ya know the one she’s already forgiven. Oh, Koji, glad you finally showed up. Yeah, you’re totally forgiven. Come on in. Thank you.” Miho stared at the door, waiting for it to open. Beside her, she felt Tetsuya deflate into his seat, muttering under his breath. The door to their study room opened and Koji stepped in, grinning apologetically. He waved and brought in offerings. “I brought chocolate.”

“You told Lee.”

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching toward his seat. They’d rented one of the quiet reading rooms on the upper floor of the book shop. “I mean, yeah, I did. But it was for a good reason.”

“Define ‘good.’”

“Define ‘reason.’” Tetsuya said at the same time. He glared at Koji’s reprimanding look. “That wasn’t anyone’s business but ours!”

“Lee’s her friend. One of her best friends. What was I supposed to do, huh? Say ‘nah, man, the mission went great and there were no problems whatsoever.’ I’m a ninja, not a liar.” He rolled his eyes and fished out the chocolate again, tossing it over to her. Miho caught it. “Told him because you’ve been training with him for forever.”

“Telling Lee is the equivalent of telling Konoha.” Miho sighed, shaking her head. “You’re forgiven, but I really think we all need to talk about what leaves our group and what doesn’t.”

“You all can talk about that after we talk about something else first.”

They all looked toward where Genma-sensei sat in one of the wingbacked chairs, as if he’d been there the whole time. He hadn’t been. He’d just appeared. Miho simply filed it under “More Evidence That Genma-sensei Was Probably ANBU.”

He rarely interrupted their Beta Location meetings, which meant that this was urgent and— by the severe expression on his face— unwelcome. He shifted jerking his head toward the door. Tetsuya rose up from his seat and moved to the seal by the door, pressing his hand to it and surging chakra into the wall.

Nervous energy flooded her stomach and she stopped eating the chocolate Koji’d brought.

Not good. Definitely not good.

“You are taking the Chūnin Exams.”

For a moment, Miho thought she might pass out. Her arms began to tingle and her breathing— she couldn’t tell if she was breathing to fast or not breathing at all. Swallowing hard, she quickly worked to get the panic under control.

Snakes destroying buildings.

Dead bodies fighting the Third.

The unopened box.

Naruto and…Gaara.

This was happening too quickly. Too fast. Wasn’t it?

She hadn’t even had time to sit down with Team Ten and plan.

A deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Find the center of gravity. The panic wouldn’t eat her alive. She’d eat it.

“— frankly didn’t nominate you and, personally, I don’t think you’re ready. I think you all know that, too, from your expressions.”

“Then why are we taking the exams? We’re not ready.”

Miho gritted her teeth, parsing through the reasoning. It was Tetsuya that said it first. “Politics. All of the first-year teams are competing, right? My grandmother would’ve pushed for that. Since Konoha is hosting, we should have the largest turnout and the best representation.”

“That’s— If ain’t ready, we could embarrass Konoha.”

“Wouldn’t go that far.” Genma-sensei shrugged. He sat up and pulled the senbon from his lips, resting his elbows on his knees to lean closer to the team. “You have every potential to do well, as a unit. Individually, I have concerns. The Hokage has made it clear you need to try your best.”

“Meaning we can’t withdraw or forfeit.” Koji huffed a laugh, but it sounded strained. “What does the Hokage expect us to do?”

“Try.” Genma-sensei answered. He pulled in a breath and shut his eyes for a moment. Miho glanced to her teammates, trying not to seem as nervous as she felt. Finally, their teacher opened his eyes again and looked at them each in turn. “I will not be disappointed in you or feel any less proud of you as my team if you forfeit though. There is such a thing as a tactical retreat.”

Koji responded, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “We’re a good team though. We have a chance.”

“You’re an excellent team.” Genma-sensei nodded. Miho felt a bit awed by his agreement. “But the Chūnin Exams are individual exams, no matter how they try to sell it.”

The reality of that hit them hard and Miho sighed, pressing her free hand to her head. The other raised the chocolate bar to her mouth, where she nibbled on the milk chocolate. She, Tetsuya, and Koji could collectively make it to chūnin, but on an individual level, none of them were ready. Still, they couldn’t botch their own exam— because the consequence and reprimand would ultimately fall on Genma-sensei and perhaps, Konoha.

“Let’s do our best.” Tetsuya heaved in a breath and held it for a long moment before nodding. “Right? Let’s get as far as we feel we can safely go. If we feel like we can’t safely go any farther, then we’ll withdraw as a team.” He looked to Genma-sensei for approval.

Their teacher smiled and replaced the senbon between his teeth. He shrugged. “Up to you, Book Club. I’ll back whatever decision you guys make.”

Miho pulled in a breath, trying to parse through all of the overlapping worries. The Chūnin Exams were one of the few clear memories she had. She remembered the sequence of events, the build-up, the matches, the Forest… “Genma-sensei, I— Can I talk to you after this, please?”

His eyes flicked to her and she saw a bit of concern there, but he quickly hid it away and nodded his head. They spent the next several hours working through a game plan, an approach that might let them make it out of the exam alive. Miho tried to drop as many hints as she could without drawing attention.

How ruthless other teams could be.

How difficult it would be to do a survival scenario without proper supplies, they should plan for anything.

How outclassed they were.

When the boys left, Tetsuya inviting Koji over for dinner at the Utatane residences, Miho stayed behind and put away her chips. Genma-sensei waited patiently for her to work up her courage.

Because this was going to take courage.

“My biological father was Okuda Keisuke. My biological mother was Akimichi Chisato…or Okuda Chisato.”

He nodded.

So, he knew.

Miho had wondered just how common the knowledge was. She tried not to let that bother her and instead focused on why she needed to tell him. Sure, she’d known for years, but…Drawing a scroll from her bag, she set it on the coffee table between her and her teacher.

“This was my mother’s…or really, it was my father’s. Biological— Okuda Keisuke’s. He gave it to Akimichi Chisato when they were my age. When he started as a genin. I guess 'cause he was afraid he'd die and he was the last Okuda. She protected it, added to it. She was really into books. Seems I got that from her.”

“She was an archivist.” Genma-sensei said. Miho looked up, surprised by that. “More accurately: she was the Head Archivist for Konoha.”

Her father hadn’t told her that. He’d clammed up, merely said that they both served Konoha well, died when the Kyuubi attacked, and handed her the picture. Her mother told her slightly more: how they met, that they had a cute house that was destroyed in the attack, how Okuda Keisuke had been a shinobi close to the Hokage and had died protecting him that night. But…She wanted more, needed more. 

Genma-sensei sensed her distress and rolled his senbon between his teeth. “Keisuke-senpai was a strong shinobi. He was Head of the Hokage Guard. Served the Fourth. I knew him well, worked with him for years.”

Thrown entirely off balance, Miho grappled with the emotions that hit her. Relief, anger, disbelief. The most powerful among them was anger. It festered, bubbling in her chest like a stew. She gripped the arm of the wingback chair, hearing and feeling the wood pop under her fingers. Anger wouldn’t do anything, so she forced it away and down and back.

“It was Chōza-sensei’s decision. It wasn’t my place or anyone else’s place to tell you.”

She had to bite back the urge to ask if that applied to Naruto, too.

Whose place was it to tell him?

Miho got some vicious sort of satisfaction in knowing that a picture sat on his kitchen counter that might start the cascade. If she suffered consequences for that, then she would bear them. She didn't regret it-- not if Naruto figured it out.

“Now that you know— What’re you gonna do with that knowledge?”

“Get stronger. This scroll is from the Okuda Family. My mother told me--”

“So, are you an Okuda now?”

Miho felt as if she’d been gut-punched. Then, she saw the challenge in his eyes. Like he was pushing her toward an answer rather than asking just to ask.

“No, I’m an Akimichi.” Her right hand settled on her stomach and she patted the fat there. The symbol for 'food' felt comforting under her fingers. “I’ll always be an Akimichi, but now I’ve got something else too. Something that can help make me stronger. So I can protect the people I need to protect. I’ll use whatever resources I can to do that, including whatever’s in this scroll.”

After a moment, he smiled around the senbon. “Okuda Keisuke was a big guy. We used to call him ‘Muscles’ around the station. Big guy with a big heart. Always seemed to be happy about somethin’. He was always harping about how awesome the Akimichi were. Loved Chisato more than anything in the world.” His attention flickered to the door and he sat back. “Seems we have a visitor.”

Miho nearly jumped out of her skin when a masked figure appeared out of thin air between her and her teacher. Miho felt her heart quicken and struggled to maintain her breathing at a steady pace. It’d been years since she’d been so close to an ANBU member, yet the feeling was still the same. Fear.

“The Hokage requests Akimichi Miho’s presence. Immediately.”

Genma-sensei shot her a confused look before nodding. “I’ll get her there.” The cat-masked person glanced to him and nodded, disappearing into nothing as if they were never there in the first place. Once the ANBU left, Genma-sensei deflated and sighed around his senbon. “Just what did you do?”

Miho swallowed and quickly thought of any way to get out of the consequences she knew were coming. But she’d made her decision. Now, she had to live or die with the consequences.

If Genma-sensei took her to see the Hokage, he would know anyway.

“I left a picture of my birth parents in Naruto’s apartment.” Miho stared back at her teacher as he waited for the other shoe to drop. “Naruto’s parents were in that picture too.” She held his stare for a long moment, determinedly not backing down. She didn’t regret what she did. She couldn’t even bring herself to be scared of what the Hokage would do to her. Instead, she sucked in a breath and held it. “If he put two-and-two together, then I’m proud of him.”

Her teacher seemed to think of all the ways he was cursed to have her on his team. For all of about five seconds. Then, he smirked around the senbon and shifted it to the other side of his mouth before slapping his knees and standing.

“Well, troublemaker, let’s get you to the Hokage before you end up causing more turmoil, yeah?”

Miho nodded, reaching for a bag of chips. Barbeque-flavored. Her favorite. Chōji must’ve stacked her chips for the day. The thought made her desperately want to hug her brother. She closed her eyes as she savored the salt on one, letting it melt on her tongue before standing as well. A hand landed on her shoulder.

“I’ve got your back, Miho.”

She looked up as he passed her toward the door. Vaguely Miho thought of how she might eventually dwarf him in size. She’d probably be twice his size in mass by the time she got to be in her late teens. But she didn’t think she’d ever be as big as him in that moment.

“Let’s go see the Hokage.”

To the girl’s credit, she looked him straight in the eye when she answered. “Yes, sir, I left that picture in Naruto’s apartment.”

Hiruzen had thought, for much of the girl’s life, that she favored her mother. Sweet, demure, and determined Chisato. Chisato, who was careful and caring. It seemed that, over the years, she’d grown more and more like her father. He could see the ghost of Okuda Keisuke over her shoulder, a similar expression on his face. Brows drawn together, jaw set, eyes hard. The likeness was haunting. Okuda Keisuke had been a force. It seemed, this girl was as well.

“Naruto’s parentage is a secret, Miho. A high-level secret. How did you learn of it?”

Again, to her credit, she did not look away. She did not flinch or cower. In fact, she squared her shoulders and quite obviously centered her weight. Hiruzen might’ve smiled if this weren’t such a serious issue.

“I figured it out after the Mizuki situation.”

“Figured it out? Explain.”

His attention flickered to her teacher, who stood a few paces back from his student. Genma had removed his senbon and kept his arms crossed. Hiruzen appreciated the obvious bond between the two, even if Genma was currently acting as if he— the Hokage— would harm the girl.

Which he wouldn’t, unless she gave him good reason.

Akimichi Miho raised her chin. “The Fourth Hokage was blond and ‘killed’ the Kyuubi. But…he didn't he sealed it into Naruto. And the only other Uzumaki in Konoha was the Red-Hot Habanero. I've read about her. The two of them died in the attack. Since he was Hokage, why would he advertise having a child? It'd be dangerous. But then...the Kyuubi. Naruto…” The girl trailed off, looking conflicted. “It seemed…obvious.”

Obvious. The girl had never proven herself to be a prodigy. Upper-to-middle rank Academy scores, save for strength-training and endurance. A determined bookworm, perhaps, but never a prodigy. He glanced to Genma, noticing that the man appeared just the slightest bit frustrated.

“He wasn’t meant to know.”

Hiruzen lifted his pipe to his lips and pulled in the toxic air, holding it in his lungs until it burned. Meanwhile, he examined the girl’s reaction.

She didn’t agree, that much was obvious. By her expression and actions. Her hands flexed and she breathed a bit deeper. Genma was on edge, teetering at the point of a senbon. Hiruzen had to withhold a grin at that.

He’d been purposeful in the construction of that team and it seemed that his plans were working quite well.

Genma needed anchors, reasons.

Hiruzen gave him three.

“He wasn't meant to know yet, now he does.”

She released a breath and deflated a bit. So, that was her goal. He had suspected as much. He had witnessed the girl’s care for Uzumaki Naruto since they were mere children. Now, as genin, it seemed that bond had only grown more powerful. Powerful enough that the girl risked much to make Naruto aware of his heritage.

As a man, Hiruzen respected that kind of loyalty.

As the Hokage, he needed to make things clear.

“There was no law preventing Naruto from learning of his parentage, Akimichi Miho. Particularly among your generation, there was no mandate given to you. I had hoped that Naruto would be free of that burden.” He lowered his pipe and watched her. She was in no legal trouble for her actions. There would be no reprimand. “He is already at risk due to his status as a jinchūriki. If other nations and enemies learn of his parents, he will be in more danger.”

Something passed over the girl’s eyes that made him sit straighter. It was a sort of darkness that he had never before seen in her. For a brief moment, he wondered. Wondered at her motivation.

“Why did you decide to do this?”

Akimichi Miho looked down, but the Hokage could not tell what she was looking at. The darkness that had passed over her eyes was something strange. When she raised her head again, it was not Okuda Keisuke he saw.

It was Akimichi Chōza.

Akimichi Chōza, who could stare down enemy platoons and warlords.

Akimichi Chōza, who maneuvered some of the most fruitful trade deals with international leaders.

Akimichi Chōza, who was a legend in his own right.

“He deserved to know.” She stood taller again. One day, she would be a force like her fathers. The Third Hokage observed this and settled. “He needed to know— know that he had parents that loved him, that didn’t throw him away.”

Hiruzen considered her. To her credit again, she didn’t squirm or flinch. She held his eyes.

“You believe that he thought himself unwanted?”

He asked it to provoke her. He knew Naruto dealt with much in his few years of life. However, he needed to understand Akimichi Miho. He needed to know that she could be trusted with such powerful information. As Naruto grew, he would need allies. He would need support that Hiruzen knew he, even as Hokage, would not be able to provide.

He had hoped Naruto’s team would give him that, but that plan was not working as smoothly as he’d hoped.

Perhaps that support would come in time, but Naruto needed anchors just like Genma. 

Anchors--people-- to maintain loyalty, to draw connection, to build strength.

She measured her words and spoke with confidence. The kind of vehemence that only came from love. Hiruzen watched and listened.

“Lord Hokage, when a person is told they are trash or a demon or a loser or unwanted enough, they start to believe it. No matter how bright they are. No matter how much they shine. No matter how desperately they fight not to believe it.” She glanced to her left and he followed her eyes to the portrait of the Fourth. “I-I'm young. I don't know anything, but I have to believe that’s not what the Fourth wanted.”

Hiruzen waited, watching as she continued to look at the portrait.

For a girl that never met the Fourth, she held much faith in him.

Keisuke and Chisato did too.

“I am Naruto’s friend. I’ll protect him with my life. And if I don’t have to make that sacrifice, then I’ll support him in whatever ways I can. And when he becomes Hokage someday, I’ll be his guard. I’ll watch his back so that he can protect the village and make sure that the good of the village is the good of all people that reside within it— from those unborn to those entering their last days.”

The Third Hokage’s pipe stopped halfway to his lips at the girl’s vehement declaration. He detected the subtle censure, but did not react to it. For the good of the village. He saw Genma stand straighter in his peripheral vision. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. She did not retract. She did not falter.

“It seems, Akimichi Miho…” He raised the pipe to his lips and let the tension rest in the air for a long moment. He could see Genma’s concern, hidden carefully behind the steel in his eyes. Good. Good. The girl stood straighter. “It seems that you have inherited the Will of Fire.”

Her tension eased just the slightest bit, but he could see her confusion.

“Do you know what the Will of Fire is, child?”

“No, Lord Hokage.”

He hummed in thought. “We gain strength by protecting the people we love. The Will of Fire means that you will protect the village at all costs because you love it. As for your knowledge of Naruto’s lineage and making that known to him… what’s done is done. However, I will charge you with this…”

Genma tensed behind her and Hiruzen waved a hand at him, brushing away his concern. It seemed that Genma thought rather poorly of him and his motivations if he believed his leader so eager to punish good intentions.

Perhaps, that belief was due to his team’s orders regarding the Chūnin Exams.

That, unfortunately, was out of his hands.

This, however…

“Akimichi Miho, I charge you with the safeguarding of Naruto’s secrets in a way that you were not charged before when you learned of his tenant. You will tell no one of his heritage and you will carefully protect that knowledge until such a time that Naruto and the Hokage make that information public. Should any others learn of his lineage, you will report it directly to me and take any steps necessary to secure that information.”

She bowed her head. “Yes, Lord Hokage.”

“You are dismissed.”

She turned to her teacher. Genma shifted his senbon to the other side of his mouth and rested a hand on her shoulder, guiding her from the office. Before they reached the door, Hiruzen called out and the girl turned.

“If you should figure out any other village secrets, you are ordered to report directly to me, Akimichi Miho. Or there will be severe consequences.”

The Akimichi girl turned and bowed fully, formally. He could sense the fear. “Yes, Lord Hokage.” He looked to Genma over her bow, impressing upon him with the slightest bit of Intent that his words were law. The girl's knees buckled with even that limited Killing Intent. Genma nodded and bowed formally, holding to the girl's shoulder as they both left.

His office door clicked shut.

When Genma-sensei left her at the gates of the Akimichi estate, Miho didn’t go inside. Instead, she waited until he rounded the corner and turned on her heel. Going home didn’t feel right just yet. She had so much more to do. The exams would start in two days’ time, which meant that she needed to train. And tomorrow, she needed to meet with Team Ten. They needed to figure out what to do and fast. 

The forest training ground was deserted at this time of night. In the clearing, the old tree stump stood as solid as ever, worn down by Lee’s kicks and punches. It was almost peaceful out there— the cicadas whirring like sirens in the trees swaying in the breeze overhead.

Her bō was at home, along with most of her equipment. But she didn’t need all of that. Not for what she had planned.

Withdrawing a flashlight from her yukata pocket, Miho sat down next to the large stump and leaned against it, withdrawing a scroll— her birth mother’s scroll— from her pocket. She sat it down in the grass, holding the light over it. The paper shimmered as it had in the moonlight what seemed like forever ago. The same etchings. Okuda Keisuke’s marks, the marks of the Okuda family.

Pulling out a kunai from her pack, Miho drew the tip over the side of her thumb. She pressed the blood to the seal and gasped at the flood of chakra that swelled and collapsed, a strange golden color that flowed outward as the scroll doubled in size and rolled outward. New scrolls appeared, three wide and three deep and three high.

On the scrolls, two symbols:

Akimichi and Okuda mixed among them.

Her mother added her own stuff to this as well. Lips curling into a smile, Miho laughed a bit. After all, the woman was an archivist. Who knew what she held on to? Archivists were notorious pack rats. 

Miho held a hand out over the scrolls, eyes closing.

This was their legacy.

A legacy meant for her.

They must’ve worked so hard for it. They went through their own problems, she was sure. They had their own stories. So many stories that she'd never know. And they would never know her stories or her. They must’ve been so—

The thought of opening the first scroll made her heart hurt. The symbol for the Okuda was clearly inscribed on the top. She felt sick. Not because they were gone or because she’d already lost what she really never knew she’d had, but because it felt like an affront to her Pa and Mum.

Because it felt like, by holding that scroll in her hands, that she was somehow spitting on her parents. On everything they’d done for her. How dare she do this? What right did she have to do this? To do this alone, without them?

The disappointment in her father’s eyes flashed in her mind.

Miho dropped the scroll.

She couldn’t even see the scrolls anymore. All of them were a blur as her eyes filled with tears. She pulled her knees up as far as they would go, but they weren’t close enough to her chest to provide any comfort. She couldn’t hug her knees. Her fat got in the way and her arms were too short. Frustrated and, for the first time, hating that extra weight, Miho kicked her legs out and then cried even harder when they sent the scrolls scattering into the grass.

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

          “Let me guess, Miho. It ‘wasn’t a big deal.’”

She felt it coming— felt it stirring behind her shoulder blades. She could hear it coming— hear the whirring of the cicadas turn to wind.

The wind was howling and screaming. Or maybe she was screaming. Miho couldn’t be entirely sure. The pipe, like a blade, but sinking in deeper, and the pain. And the explosions. She could remember hanging there. And the snakes in the village. An old man dying. Naruto, lifeless. Shikamaru, lifeless. Chōji crying. So many dead eyes and the moon— Listening to the rush of rain and the radio playing—

          I can still hear you sayin’

          “You know, one of these times, you’re not gonna make it out alive.”

 Tetsuya’s yell was echoing in her head, screeching metal and winds and cicadas.

          “You should trust family, Miho, if no one else.”

She pressed her knuckles into her forehead with as much force as she could muster, trying to will away the panic. The Hokage, the Chūnin Exams, her family, her team, the future… It was just too much. All of it was too much. Miho felt herself spiraling out of control, like those winds that killed her.

“Miho, where’ve you— Miho!”

She felt herself being lifted up and sat onto a large lap. She was pressed to a large, meaty stomach and a warm chest, recognizing the scent of pine trees and smoke. Her father. He patted her head like he did when she was little, from the crown to the ends and again and again and again.

After a long while, the tears stopped and she just felt tired.

He leaned back and pressed hands to either side of her face. “Let me gather up the scrolls and we’ll go home, okay?”

Miho nodded, pushing herself up to stand, watching as he assembled the smaller scrolls onto the enlarged main storage scroll. Her heart hurt and her eyes hurt and her chest hurt and she was hungry. So hungry. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweet bun.” He said quietly. And it seemed like the cicadas hushed for him. The clouds moved overhead and cast moonlight onto the clearing. He looked up from where he was kneeling. “Miho, where’ve you been? We’ve been worried for hours.”

“I—I was with the Hokage and Genma-sensei. I— I left a picture in Naruto’s apartment. I hoped— hoped that he would figure it out. He did.”

Her father stilled.

“You told Naruto who his parents are?”

Miho nodded. “He deserved to know, Papa. I did it knowing I would get into trouble.” Miho felt the panic growing again, pressure building in her chest. “The Hokage—”

She was pulled into his chest again, one large arm braced around her shoulders. “You are very kind, very brave girl. I am proud of you, my daughter.”

The tentative control she’d built back up shattered again and she fell into his arms, sobbing. All of it was just too much. The future, the present, the pressure, the failure. She felt him hook an arm underneath her as she kept her face buried into his shoulder as he picked up and sealed the scrolls again. He stood and suddenly, they were in the house.

“Oh, Miho! Sweetheart!”

Her mother’s frantic voice made her lift her head. A warm cloth was pressed to her face, drawn under her eyes and over her cheeks and she could feel the cool press of her mother’s fingertips under her chin.

“Chōji, sweetie, go get a few cookies and warm them up, alright?”

Miho turned her face to see her brother in the doorway, a chip halfway to his mouth. Her eyes met his and he sat the bag on a side table. “Miho?” His voice sounded choked.

“’m okay, Chōji.”

Her father cleared his throat and she looked up to see him shaking his head. Pulling in a quivering breath, Miho looked back at Chōji and tried to ignore the tears building in her eyes. He was trying so valiantly not to cry. She could tell, even from the other side of the kitchen. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and tried.

“I was so scared.”

Chōji drew his arm over his eyes and hurried to the cookie jar, drawing out several and situating them on a place. Last she saw of him as her father carried her to the living room was Chōji burying his face in his hands while the cookies started warming in the microwave.

“What happened?” Her mother questioned, sitting down beside them and brushing Miho’s mess of curls back out of her face. “I haven’t seen you this upset since you were little.”

“I got hurt on the mission but everyone’s acting like I did it on purpose. We’re taking the Chūnin Exams and we’re not ready. I didn’t want me asking about my birth parents to hurt you and I think it did and I am so sorry. I do trust Chōji and I trust you and I trust my team, but I can’t— I don’t know— and I was just called to the Hokage because I told Naruto the truth about his parents. Kind-of. I was so scared.”

“Oh, sweet bun.”

Her mother’s hands were on her face, wiping the tears from the swirls on her cheeks and pushing the curls out of her sticky face.

“We’re not hurt that you asked. We’re more disappointed in ourselves for not talking with you about it before. It was a bit of selfishness on our part. We wanted to protect you from it, somehow.” She sat back and took Miho’s hands as she was shifted to sit on her father’s knee. “And none of us believe you got hurt on purpose, Miho. That would just be foolish.”

“I didn’t mean to get distracted. I heard Tetsuya yell and—”

“Tetsuya and Koji also have improvements to make. I’m sure Genma has told him that purposeless exclamations in the middle of battle can get someone killed.” Her father countered. His eyes tracked to Chōji in the doorway and he gestured for her brother to approach. “As for Chōji, perhaps it is best that he speak for himself.”

Chōji approached, setting the plate of cookies down on the coffee table. “I know Miho trusts me. She just doesn’t want to see me hurt. And I didn’t inspire a lot of confidence just now.” Miho shook her head. “We’re both going to do better, Miho. I know it.”

“As for telling Naruto,” her father stopped. He seemed to consider her for a long moment before sighing, some of the grandness of his size seemed to diminish. Miho winced into his arm, preparing for the onslaught. After all, she’d been called to the Hokage for this. “I am so proud of you.”

“Proud of…” Miho stared at her father with wide eyes.

“Yes, proud. Of you.” He seemed to collect himself and he sat straighter. “It was forbidden for any of the older generations to tell him. To tell him anything. You have given him something priceless and I am so proud of you. I have been proud of you since that day in the alley.”

“But I was summoned to the Hokage for—”

Her father shook his head. “The Hokage worries constantly for the younger generations, especially Naruto.”

She wasn’t sure how much she believed that considering that her team was now participating in the Chūnin Exams, but Miho nodded nonetheless. To doubt the Hokage outright was to be disloyal. She had to maintain the façade of clueless innocence, despite knowing how a military dictatorship worked. Her father was clearly saying what had to be said if an ANBU were listening in on the conversation. 

"Miho, you are our daughter. We love you. We love you so, so much. And we'll answer any questions you have. We'll support you always." Her father reached a hand out for her brother and he stepped forward. "We are family. You and Chōji are our world." 

That evening, she learned more about Akimichi Chisato and Okuda Keisuke. Her father told the stories, like he always did. He told her about the first time her birth parents went on a date and the Ino-Shika-Cho trio threatened Keisuke behind what used to be a noodle shop on Market Street. He told her about how Chisato started doing research on the Okuda family. He told her how much he loved them. How much he missed them. 

And how much he believed that she was the perfect mix of Okuda and Akimichi. 

How much he believed they would be proud of her. 

"It's coming." 

Chōji sat next to her in bed. They shared a large bag of chips between them, staring into the darkness of his room. Her eyes were long adjusted to the dark and she stared at the picture of Team Ten on his bedside table. It'd been hours since they'd gone to bed, but she couldn't sleep and she came to his room, only to find him awake as well. Her eyes were tired and puffy from the crying.

"Shikamaru has a plan, but it's...risky." 

"I'm sure Shikamaru has ten or fifteen plans." Miho sighed around a chip. "The only thing making me feel better about the exam is knowing you and your team'll be there." 

Her brother nodded and turned to her, cheeks puffed out with chips. "And Lee's team. And Naruto's." 

"The latter isn't a good thing. Neither is the former."

The sound of Lee's bones breaking. The snakes. The screams. 

As if Chōji knew what she was seeing and hearing, he scooted closer and sat the bag of chips to his side, leaning into her arm. They stayed like that for a long, long while. Until the clock was blurry. 

The silence held between them, tense and taught.  

"Tomorrow."

Chapter Text

There was a determined set to Shikamaru’s shoulders. It was the first thing she noticed when he entered the hallway with Ino and Chōji by his side. Miho thought he looked different somehow, eyes sharp and focused. Even just up until a few weeks ago, he always looked half-asleep. For a vague moment, Miho regretted that he couldn’t stay that way. He couldn't remain the Shikamaru of her memories, or even of the Images. He had to change. They all did.

Ino’s eyes found her first and she took the shortest path over, through a mass of other genin attempting to argue their way through an illusion. It was Tetsuya that had pointed it out, sitting back out of the way to watch the happenings as if it were a film. Miho had idly handed him a bag of chips, smiling as he dug into them. 

“Glad you’re okay.” Ino’s arms went around her neck and Miho smiled into her shoulder. Ino’d changed her usual outfit to something more all-terrain with thicker material and more storage. It seemed Ino was, once again, battening down the hatches. Miho didn't expect anything less. After all, Ino had been preparing for this for years. "I nearly wrang Koji’s neck when he told us.”

“Why? Koji didn’t do anything.”

“Because she’s a harpy and didn’t get why I said anything!” Koji retorted before Ino could respond. He shot her a dark look from where he sat along the wall. “I told you ‘cause you’re, like, her best friend or whatever! Figured you'd wanna know.”

“If Miho chose to tell me, then she decides that, you idiot! You’re her teammate and you went on a book tour about her injury!”

Shikamaru and Chōji finally arrived, eyeing the genjutsu with tired expressions. Her eyes found Shikamaru’s and she lifted her brows. In answer, he nodded just slightly. Soon, they knew, Naruto and Team Seven would arrive. In the Images, it’d been clear. She expected that was when the Plan “started.” In the meantime, they’d have to wait.

She fished around in her pack, withdrawing a scroll. She sat it in Chōji’s outstretched hand, watching as he furtively dropped it into his own bag.

At Tetsuya’s raised brow, Miho smiled. “Food scroll.” Tetsuya and Koji fell into comfortable conversation with Ino and Chōji, who were purposefully drawing attention away from Shikamaru and Miho to give them a moment.

Shikamaru leaned on the wall next to where she sat, eyes on the crowd. “As soon as the troublesome part starts, open it. Issue the warning and take the punishment.”

Piecing it together, Miho nodded. That solved more than one problem. It wouldn’t quite answer everything, but it was a solid start. If a genin team opened one of the scrolls in the Forest of Death, then a shinobi would be summoned and render everyone unconscious. It made sense for her team to be the one disqualified because of it. They weren’t supposed to be part of this anyway.

“Ino will give you the rest.”

Nodding, Miho nodded and looked up at him. She could see how much was resting on his shoulders. A thirteen-year-old guy who didn’t want any of this. Who was in such a sickening position. Who knew that if he screwed up, then it would be his father's life on the line, along with everyone else he cared for. His eyes cut down to her and he shrugged, rolling his shoulders as he sighed.

He was resigned to all this.

“Don’t be a drag.”

“I’m not. I’m just…sorry.”

He turned to face her fully, the put-on exhaustion leaving for a few scant moments. “It’s this or the other. We’re not going to let the other happen.” She wished she had that kind of confidence. And there must’ve been something about her expression that made his harden. “We have a chance.”

Miho sighed, watching as Lee was shoved back by the genjutsu, or the wielders of the genjutsu. She was on her feet in an instant, moving to the front of the crowd. Shikamaru didn’t move with her, staying back to watch the “troublesome” situation from afar.

“Maybe it’d be best if you runts quit.”

“You’re green-assed brats, after all.”

Kneeling down at Lee’s side, she touched a hand to his arm. The two bullies were being especially loud about it, very obviously putting on a performance. Lee didn’t even turn to acknowledge her, staring at the bullies with a frown. A girl she recognized from Lee’s descriptions stood from his other side, politely asking that the two bullies let people through. She took a blow to the face not second later.

Miho leaned into Lee’s ear, voice low. “It’s a genjutsu.”

He turned and shot her a grin before the disappointed and determined mask fell back into place. He knew it was a genjutsu. He was just playing the fool.

Mouth opening, Miho shook her head and settled onto her haunches. She glanced up at to the right to see Hyuuga Neji staring at the two, fists clenched. If Lee sensed it, then Neji did as well. This was all a performance. Shaking her head again, Miho leaned over to Lee once more.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, my friend.”

“— have business on the third floor.”

It seemed Uchiha Sasuke had not caught on to the game. 

Miho sighed, pushing herself up to stand. The longer she sat like that, the more her legs tingled. Her hands pressed over the front of her yukata top, smoothing out the wrinkles over her rolls. She tipped the toe of her shoe under Lee’s thigh then turned to see her team paying attention to the exchange. She jerked her head.

They followed her to the stairs, leaving what sounded like some excitement behind them.

Room 301 was filled to the brim with chūnin hopefuls. Some young, some old. The age range was honestly far more diverse than Miho had been expecting with the way that Genma-sensei had described the demographics. She cut her eyes to the left and then the right, finding Team Ten tucked in the corner. Chōji was calorie-loading while Shikamaru sat on the ground, resting.

“Lotta folks here, huh?” Koji questioned, already turning to walk toward where the only familiar team stood. Tetsuya was wide-eyed, but still trying to puff himself up to look taller.

“Chubs, there’s no way we can—”

Miho shushed him, meaningfully glancing toward the crowd. “Let’s not count chickens.”

"They don't look like chickens. They look like badasses." 

“Did Sakura see the stuff downstairs?” Ino questioned, crossing her arms. “She’s been really nervous about this.”

“Has every right to be nervous,” Koji returned with a scoff. “Look at these guys.” He jerked his head toward a group of rough-looking Kusa teens. “I think she saw it though. They’ll probably be up sooner or later.”

“Sooner would be better than later.” Miho sighed, shooting Ino a look. “Darn it, there’s Kiba. I better—” Ino laughed outright as her friend scrambled to grab the back of Koji and Tetsuya’s shirts. “Don’t you dare start something with that loudmouth! This isn’t the time or the place.”

“We won’t start somethin’ if he don’t start somethin’.” Koji retorted, crossing his arms. “But if he shoots his mouth off— at you—again, I don’ care if we get disqualified— I’m deckin’ him.” Then, a cruelly-colored smirk dawned on his face and Miho felt her hackles rise. Koji was vicious with grudges and he really didn’t like Kiba. “Genma-sensei would be down for it. I know.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. He was right though. Genma-sensei would support it.

“Yeah, and I’ll hold off his team when you do it. Genma-sensei was proud of us last time.” Miho resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. Tetsuya nodded, eyes shut as if this were some kind of sage advice rather than a stupid plan. “I’m sure I can take the Aburame.”

“You can’t take on Shino.” Miho scoffed, distracted by the claim. “I guarantee you.”

Even Shikamaru smirked at Tetsuya’s affronted expression.

“What the hell, Chubs? We’re supposed to be teammates!”

“What? Teammates tell it like it is!”

Tetsuya looked to Koji for some kind of support, but only received a shrug as their teammate continued to stare Kiba down from across the room.

“Did Kiba do something, Miho?” Chōji questioned around a handful of chips. His eyes were shut as he savored the flavor, but she could feel the intensity of that question. Beside her, Ino fell into hysterics, holding her sides. Chōji’s eyes opened and he stopped eating. “What’d he do?”

“Noth—”

“Called her a ‘fatass tub of lard’ among other things.”

“Called her a ‘useless fatass tub of lard’ to be more accurate.”

Miho’s hand whipped out so fast, one might’ve thought she took off her weights. Tetsuya squawked, flailing into Koji as they both toppled. The movement caught the attention of a few teams nearby, but she ignored them. Her heel stomped as she towered over her nonplussed teammates.

“Stop holding grudges over it! That was ages ago and it doesn’t even bother me!”

“It was three weeks ago!”

“You didn’t tell me he said that!” Ino barked. “You just said they were posturing.”

“He called you what?”

Miho winced and turned.

“Now is so not the time for you all to get protective. Do I look bothered by it?”

“They’re here.”

Miho sighed, slumping against the wall as Team Seven entered the room. She sent Shikamaru a thankful look, earning one of his signature long-suffering stares in return. His hands dipped into his pockets and his shoulders curved forward.

“Yo! Miho, you’re here too!” Naruto approached, throwing up a hand in greeting. She knew he wouldn’t bring it up here in mixed company, but when he threw his arms around her as far as they would go, she knew he was putting every emotion he could into it. He braced his forearm at her shoulders, dragging her down to his height. In that hug was everything he couldn't say in present company. “I was hopin’ Team Five would get to kick ass with us!”

“Team Ten is here too, ya know.” Ino slapped at his arm. He wailed dramatically, pulling away and giving her a pathetic look. She sniffed, raising her chin. “And we’ll kick ass more than Seven or Five.”

“Don’t make such troublesome statements.” Shikamaru sighed, rolling his eyes.

Chōji was back to eating chips with a bit more vigor than before. But Miho knew that kind of rapid eating. He only ate that fast when he was angry. Her brother liked to savor flavors and let the seasoning sit on his tongue. Instead, he was scarfing the chips down with abandon. Her brother was angry and when his eyes opened to see Kiba’s approaching figure, Miho patted Naruto’s shoulder and moved toward where Chōji was standing.

“I know you’re mad, but let it go.”

His eyes opened again and they were sharp like kunai. Even Shikamaru tensed, sensing the difference in how her brother was holding himself. Every so often, her brother dropped all of his masks. It was during those moments that got a view of the man he would become. The fierce protector that lurked underneath. He took a single step forward and Miho gripped his arm in warning. 

“Don’t.”

“Found y’all! Well, well. Looks like everyone’s here!”

Miho tightened her hold on Chōji’s arm. The muscle was taught, even as if moved chips to his mouth. Ignoring Kiba’s ribbing, she turned to her team and caught their eyes, jerking her head toward the desks. If she could make a quick exit before things got tense or before—

“All twelve genin rookies are taking the exam, huh? Now then, how far do you think we can go? Eh, Sasuke?”

Rolling her eyes, Miho released Chōji’s arm with a pat and moved to where Koji and Tetsuya were still leaning against the wall. “There’s a lot of testosterone in here. You fellas wanna prove somethin’ too?” Miho smiled at their irritated huffs. Koji made a show of flexing his muscles, earning a snicker from Tetsuya. She heard Ino snicker, too. “No? You’re my favorite team.”

“We’re your team. If your favorite was someone else, we’d need to have a team meeting.”

“I dunno. She likes Team Ten a lot…”

Koji glared, crossing his arms.

There he is. Snake in the grass.

Ino’s voice startled Miho and she jumped, looking wildly around until her eyes settled on Ino’s face. Eyes closed as she leaned against the wall to her left. She had no idea Ino had mastered this technique yet! Her sideswept bangs hid the intense tilt of her brows.

Let Shikamaru handle this guy. We’ve got other things to talk about. Other than the fact that we’re talking about Kiba’s insults after all this is over.

Miho deflated, watching as Shikamaru took over the conversation with Kabuto. He steered it into useless territory like a master, taking the guy in circles.

“Is the Chūnin Exam that high of a hurdle? Man, this is utterly bothersome.”

It’s the second test that’s the big problem. Shikamaru thinks the biggest issue is letting the Hokage know about Orochimaru as quickly as possible. Thing is: you’re gonna have to sell it.

I can sell it.

Miho watched as Kabuto filed through his information on Lee and Gaara. The idea of that creep having information on either made her uncomfortable and that discomfort translated into a grimace, which caught Koji’s eye. Kabuto was an unsettling guy. Even from what she remembered: she hated him. Using people for his advantage with basically no purpose. Knowing that he knew so much about Lee and Gaara…

And what was coming for Gaara in a few years' time. 

The boys definitely noticed that you remembered more about him than anyone else aside from Naruto.

With as much self-control as she possessed, Miho didn't turn to look at the team from Suna. Instead, she reached over and flicked Ino's ear. Her friend twitched but maintained her mental connection. 

It was kinda hard not to notice. 

“Maybe we should go find some seats.”

Miho nodded, glancing to Chōji, who moved to take her spot by Ino while her friend was occupied. She rested a hand on his arm, meeting his eyes for a long moment. She moved to press her forehead against his, one of the more traditional Akimichi gestures. She felt him press back. “I love you, brother. Be careful, okay?” She moved away and he smiled, nodding as he raised a fist for her to bump.

“Good luck, Miho. Love you.”

“C’mon, Chubs.”

Wait one hour into the second exam. Open the scroll and alert the responding jōnin. Good luck, Miho. Be careful, okay?

She felt Ino leave her mind, like water flowing out of a funnel. When she glanced back at the gathered group, Ino sent her a wink, a determined expression settling over sharp features. She could see Naruto’s frustration building, mounting and mounting just like it did in the Images. Seeing this, she saw Shikamaru deflate.

Some things were just impossible to stop.

They found some seats along the back, just behind Lee’s team. They were the only group of rookies to separate from the rest, drawing a little attention for exiting the fray. Lee turned around a bit to look her over, eyes checking to make sure she was okay. She held his gaze for a long moment, flicking her eyes toward his teammates with a meaningful nod.

After all, he knew her teammates.

Even if it was because Koji liked to gossip.

“Neji, Tenten, this is Akimichi Miho. One of my dearest friends. I have been training with her since we were very young.” Tenten turned while Neji’s attention remained on the building tension on the other side of the room.

“Lee’s mentioned you before. He said you’re fast.”

Neji’s eyes finally turned to her at that, attention drifting down at then up to her face again. He didn’t scoff, but he did turn back to the entertainment without a word. Koji noticed, bristling at her side like cat dropped in water. Tetsuya looked like he was gauging his chances. Miho sent Lee a bland expression, seeing the apology written in his eyes. It didn't bother her. On the one hand, people often underestimated her and, on the other, Neji underestimated everyone. She turned back to Tenten.

“Not nearly as fast as Lee. He’s mentioned your weaponry skills! I use bōjutsu. It’s honestly nice to meet someone else who appreciates weapons. I was hoping to train in naginata next.” Part of her wanted to mention that her teammates were both weapon-wielders as well, but she knew that was best information kept close to the chest. Lee knew though. Tenten’s eyes lit up in excitement. “I hope we get the chance to spar sometime.”

“Same! I bet it’s—”

“MY NAME’S UZUMAKI NARUTO! I WON’T LOSE TO ANY OF YOU! GOT IT?”

“Is he…an idiot?” She heard Tenten murmur to Lee. Miho watched as a ripple of indignant disbelief surged over the crowd. A bit of pride made her sit a bit straighter, watching as Naruto held his fist high. That was her Hokage, after all. Some day. Eventually.

“Oh, man…” Koji laughed a bit at her side. “Naruto’s kickin’ a bee hive.”

“He’s mighty high-spirited.”

“Naruto’s spirit burns bright.” Lee grinned, throwing her a thumbs-up over his shoulder.

Think we can remove one problem from the equation?

Her attention jerked over to where Ino was still standing against the wall, arms now crossed and eyes closed. Chōji stood slightly in front of her, eyes narrowed into slits and chip bag put away. He was tensed, tight as a bowstring. Shikamaru leaned on the wall just beside her. She could barely see him behind Chōji’s mass. What in the—

Does Shikamaru have a plan for Kabuto?

Ino’s laugh was like bells in her head. Ah, you know Nara. He’s got a plan for everything. She saw an image in her mind and she felt her eyes slide closed, even as chaos erupted with the attack of the Oto team.

Somehow, the attack— which previously only broke his glasses and made him puke in the original Images— was doubled in force. Kabuto was thrown into the wall. His head struck the concrete wall and he slumped into unconsciousness. Naruto and Sakura ran to his side, just like before, shaking him as if he would wake. Miho felt the corners of her lips tick upward before she schooled it away.

Well, that was certainly different.

Whoops.

Her eyes cut back over to where Chōji was now devouring a bag of barbecue chips, a pleased smile on his face as her gaze met Shikamaru’s. He separated his hands and stuck them in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders.

The self-satisfied smirk on his lips made her smile outright.

You have the coolest teammates, Ino.

I knew we were your favorite team.

Ino melted from her mind again and her friend’s head rose across the room.

“What the hell is all this?” Tetsuya questioned beside her. “Seriously, is it always this dramatic? Can’t we all just get field promotions and be done with it? Seriously.” Koji laughed, jabbing his elbow into Tetsuya’s stomach. “Man.”

“Get a bunch of drama queen ninja in one room—whaddya think’s gonna happen, huh?”

Genma-sensei had said as much during their meeting. He’d lamented (as much as their teacher could lament) that the Chūnin Exams were a hotbed for ridiculous schticks and complexes. He’d forbade any monologuing or pot-stirring, even taking the senbon out of his mouth to deliver the warning. He’d be watching, after all. Her eyes scanned the room, finding four cameras.

“Think we should wave to Genma-sensei?”

Koji grinned, kicking back in his seat and putting a senbon in his mouth. Knowing him, he’d probably noticed the cameras as soon as they entered the room. Miho smiled at him, watching as Tetsuya held up a peace sign to the closest camera. She could imagine their teacher’s reaction. Miho nodded to the camera, shrugging at the boy’s actions. What can you do, Boss Man?

Then, the exam began.

Genma loved his kids.

He was resigned to it at this point. Only a few months into this whole teacher thing and he really couldn’t help his fate. He wouldn’t have called it a “slow descent;” it was certainly a “fall” of some kind. When he saw Koji mimicking his mannerisms, Tetsuya grinning like a loon, and Miho’s shrug, Genma held back a smile. They definitely weren’t going to pass this exam, but they were hamming it up regardless.

“You’ve definitely brainwashed them.”

“Just because your kids are lame doesn’t mean you get to rag on my kids, Hatake.”

He watched as the kids were mixed up among the crowd, no two teammates sat next to one another. He barely withheld a scowl when Miho ended up next to the Inuzuka brat. Kurenai shot him a look, grimacing at the amused look on the dog boy’s face as he poked her most prominent roll. Miho just stared at him.

Genma was pretty convinced that it would eventually come to blows.

Miho was going to deck this kid into submission at some point when her seemingly endless patience wore out.

He wanted to be there to cheer when she put his face in the dirt.

Asuma scoffed around his cigarette. “Lame? Did you see Uzumaki’s declaration? You know Uchiha was the highest ranked in his year.”

Genma sent Asuma a deadpan look. He knew Asuma didn’t care about ranking. That was bullshit. Ranking meant jack shit at the Academy. All their scores were biased in some way. Even Tetsuya scored high in practical when he was probably middling. His grandmother's political pull at work. Scores were no indication of potential. Ever.

“Case in point.” Kurenai laughed. It was a bit amusing to see Kakashi’s head dip a bit. “Though, it takes some serious determination to shout something like that in front of so many people.”

“Number one most unpredictable…” Kakashi murmured, settling back on the couch.

Genma watched the screen, waiting to see what his kids did with the exam. He’d led them through these kinds of exercises before and he was more-than-confident that Tetsuya would manage cheating just fine. He was, after all, his grandmother’s descendant. Sure enough, Tetsuya sat his sword on the table, as if the weight were awkward on his back. He angled it in just the right way to see the inverted answers from the paper below him. Huffing a laugh at the obvious action, Genma sat back and observed as his kid lost two points, but got the work done.

Koji was a bit more surreptitious. The kid had been covert for most of his life, hiding his true origin in a long “undercover mission.” He was also stealing all of the answers off Gai’s green-clad student, who was using his teammate’s mirrors. Someone else was doing all the work for him, but shinobi were meant to use all the resources available.

While the Inuzuka’s dog told him the answers, Miho’s hand was moving swiftly across the page. She was selling it, but Genma knew better. Miho was smart, sure, but not smart enough to know all of the answers on that test. After a while, she sighed and sat back, withdrawing a bag of chips. Anyone less of observant might’ve missed the shadow receding under the desk behind her.

“Your kid is helping my kid.” Genma told Asuma.

Asuma, despite his obvious effort to seem unaffected, did sit forward and stare at the screen. The Nara leaned forward and laid his head on the table, seeming to fall asleep right there in the middle of the exam. If you weren’t looking for it, an observer might’ve missed the slight smirk on his face before he hid it in his arms.

“Huh. I thought he was a complete layabout, but— He’s been very motivated for the past month. Hell, my whole team is gung-ho. It’s weird. They practically never stop training. It's wild.”

“Kids being motivated is weird?” Kurenai questioned.

Considering who she had on her team, she would think that anything less than capital-D Dedication was strange.

“Nah, it’s just… from what I heard, Shikamaru was never the kind to help out someone else unless he had to. Preferred sleepin’ and resting and all that. Laying about, with Chōji.” Asuma let out a puff of smoke, casually shrugging his shoulders. “Then, it’s like a switch was flipped the day after I got ‘em.”

Genma cut him a look at the tone. Something was off.

Swirling the senbon between his teeth, he watched Ibiki put on a show.

“Here is the tenth question!”

Hearing the proposition, Genma waited to see what his kids would do. They knew they weren’t really ready for this. The prospect of never taking the exams again if they failed the question was something he’d only hinted at, not wanting to advantage his team above others. Miho turned slightly, chip halfway to her mouth as she looked to Koji first.

Koji grimaced, shaking his head. His eyes tracked to Tetsuya, who signaled that they remain in place.

Miho nodded, tension obviously easing as she turned around again. She’d wanted to stay, it seemed.

Kids filtered out, team by team.

He watched as Miho’s eyes turned to watch Naruto, who slammed his hand down on the desk. Despite the blond being the center of attention, Genma watched his student’s reaction. Her smile was so big that her eyes closed.

“Don’t underestimate me! I won’t run! I’ll take it. But even if I’m stuck being a genin forever, I will become Hokage no matter what it takes!”

She withdrew a few cookies, holding them in both hands as she ate, eyes flickering to the windows every few moments. Genma sat forward in his seat, angling on the edge of it as Ibiki dramatically wrapped the first exam. Something was off. Miho was paying more attention to the window than the exam proctor, which was very out of character for her.

His brows pulled together.

What—

The window that Miho was glancing at shattered and Anko appeared, in all her usual glory. Genma shook his head, adjusting the senbon between his lips. Miho beamed around her cookie, throwing a glance back at the Yamanaka and then her brother and the Nara.

Not her teammates.

Strange.

That was strange. Pair that with the fact that the Nara had helped her in the exam, Genma shifted the senbon between his lips, eyes narrowing on his female student. Something was up. Miho's grin became even more pronounced as the second proctor posed.

“Oh boy.” Asuma muttered, palming his face.

Genma couldn’t help but to agree.

It almost looked like his one female student was about to start clapping for Mitarashi Anko.

And Genma, for the first time in his life, thought he was too old for this.

This was not the plan. Miho threw herself to the side, crouching in front of Koji who was groaning in pain on his side. He was bleeding, but she wasn’t sure how or why. It all happened so fast. Tetsuya was about twenty feet away, in a fierce hand-to-hand battle with some nin from Kusa. Other than the fact that the girl’s hair was red, Miho could barely process anything more than that as they battled. She couldn’t remember much about the Forest of Death other than Orochimaru’s attack on Team Seven.

And that wasn't working to her advantage in the slightest.

It was already Day Two and this would be the third attack they'd fought off. They showed the wear and tear of it. Her clothes were a mess. Tetsuya was sporting a black eye from some Suna jerk. And Koji had a sprained ankle. But they'd made it this far and they'd repelled every attack against them. 

Apparently, her weight made the other teams think they were easy prey.

They learned. 

“You’re not getting our scroll.”

She needed that scroll so she could open it and alert the Hokage that Orochimaru was in the forest. And that time was quickly approaching. There was no way she was giving up that scroll so easily, not even if this Kusa team wanted to kill her for it. She'd kill them first. 

“C’mon, fatass. It’s not like you’ll be getting an Earth scroll anyway. Just hand it over and go back to your snacks.”

“Son of a bitch.” Koji hissed, rolling up from his side to his knees. She adjusted her hold on her staff, preparing for the two guys to start attacking before her teammate got off the ground.

Sure enough, the green-haired teen approached first— throwing a kunai as he moved. She blocked with a swirl of her bō, jabbing it into his stomach with a quick block of the other's attack with the other end of her staff as he came at her from behind.

“Back off. Don’t wanna have to hurt you.”

“Hurt us? You’re really gonna get it!”

Miho saw his determination and then saw an opportunity— for a cover story. She smiled sweetly, using the staff to propel her back from the two Kusa nin, to the edge of a clearing. If they followed, then…maybe she could concoct some sort of story to sell Orochimaru's presence. Winking, Miho looked to the clone of Koji nearby. Miho could sense her teammate overhead, hidden in the low-hanging branches.

“I’ll handle these two. Help Tetsuya when you’re ready. I’ll be over here…for reasons.”

Her expansion jutsu needed space.  

She darted out into the open, sealing her bō into her armor once more before flying through a series of seals. She felt her chakra burn and writhe, pulling from her fat and searing its way through her limbs.

“Even your teammates think you’re useless, letting you go off on your own!”

Miho turned and rolled her eyes, planting her feet in the grass. Her heels dug in and she felt the chakra release as it build and coiled. “They let me go off on my own because they know I can handle it!” Finishing the sequence of handseals, she pumped the extra calories into her legs. Rather than expand, they burned gold as the lactic acid built and burned. 

An Akimichi technique for endurance fighters. She darted forward. Only one was able to catch her hit. The other fell to the ground, unconscious. Sweeping his leg out, the green-haired boy knocked her knees out from under her. Miho fell into a roll, catching her forehead on a rock as she moved, twisting and expanding her body as she moved. She grabbed an outcropped rock and swung around, throwing herself bodily into the guy. He yelped and struck a nearby tree, breaking it in half. 

Releasing the jutsu, she let out a startled breath as her knees shook. She’d never done that sequence in practice before, but…desperate times.

The bodies lay still, both unconscious, and Miho withdrew the Heaven scroll from the green-haired boy’s pack. He wouldn't be comfortable when he woke up and Miho took an extra moment to lay him flat rather than back-breakingly slung against the broken tree.

Working up the character, Miho forced her face to pull into a frantic and terrified expression. She pulled absolute and all-consuming fear into her stomach and she threw herself, stumbling toward where she knew her teammates to be. One terrified breath, another.

Reaching up, she tore her hair from where it was held up in ponytail. Her curls fell into her face, matted with sweat and blood. She let the underbrush tear at her skin as she moved, hurrying toward the clearing where she knew her teammates were waiting.

When she finally fell between the trees, she forced herself to be breathless. She purposefully stumbled on a tree root. 

“Miho! Miho! You alright?”

“Chubs!”

“We need to open this. We need to— Guys, this is bad. I don’t—”

“Calm down. Miho, calm down. We need to what?”

Miho sucked in a deep breath, catching her hands on her knees. Real, very real, fear lanced through her. Orochimaru could already be attacking Team Seven at that moment. Naruto could be in danger, again. Or it could be Chōji and Ino and Shikamaru. Or Lee and his team. She needed to do this fast. She didn’t have time.

"Orochimaru is...in the forest." 

Tetsuya's eyes went wide, mouth falling open. "Whaddya mean he's--?"

"The sannin? Here? He's a missing--"

They watched her hands hold out the scroll. "We have to tell someone. We can't make it to the tower first. Guys, please--" It was Tetsuya that nodded after the briefest moment of conflict. Koji looked her over, fear falling like a shroud of his face before he nodded, too. Though she felt terrible for lying to them, it needed to happen. She had to do this. She had to.

Grabbing one side of the scroll, she threw it open and chucked it into the grass. “I— I’m sorry, guys.”

She didn’t recognize the man that appeared— sunglasses and a slightly askew headband— but she held up both hands as he started to move. “Orochimaru is in the forest!” He stopped, hand poised to strike, staring her down from behind his glasses. She could feel the wave of Killing Intent that made her knees buckle a bit. “Tell—Tell the Hokage! Please, tell the Hokage.” The jōnin, because he had to be a jōnin, seemed to stop breathing. His attention focused solely on her, no doubt eyeing her roughed-up state. Silently thanking every force of good out there, Miho stumbled toward him. “He’s in the forest.”

“In the forest? You saw an S-rank missing nin in this forest and you survived it?"

Miho nodded. “I wasn’t worth the effort. It was him. It was!”

The jōnin’s eyes flickered to her teammates, who were both nonplussed, obviously confused, and fearful. She’d have to tell them something eventually, but, at the moment, the boys looked concerned that she’d ‘encountered’ such a huge threat.

“Who’s your teacher?”

“Shiranui Genma.”

His face betrayed nothing, no recognition or emotion. Miho felt her stomach turn when the jōnin appeared behind her teammates, slamming his hands into the back of their skulls. The boys crumpled to the ground and Miho tried to school away her shaking. She tried to stand strong in the face of what she knew was coming.

He disappeared and she felt him behind her.

“We’ll check on it.”

The world went black.

Kakashi seriously thought that Genma’s students were weird. Honestly. They were a bunch of little Mini Me nerds that for some reason seemed to idolize Genma. Genma, of all people. Genma, who was arguably one of the most boring people he knew. Then again, Genma was on a team with Gai. Most people seemed boring by comparison. Still.

He thought they were even weirder when they were dropped in the main tower’s holding room by Yamashiro Aoba. Well, to put it more accurately, the boys were dropped like two sacks of potatoes. The Akimichi girl was set down like some kind of heavyweight china doll.

Genma rushed toward them, worry very clear on his face. The guy was former ANBU, but seemed to be much more of a doting teacher.

The former badass knelt down, hand tracing over a wound to the Big Guy’s gut. A superficial kunai wound, likely from some kind of close-range fight. The Utatane heir was also a little worse for wear, dirty and bloodied. His clothes were soaked through and bloodied, from less recent battles. Then, Genma's fingers pressed to a few cuts and bruises on the Akimichi. The girl had a large cut on her forehead, which painted half of her face red. 

Genma was an S-rank assassin.

Genma was an S-rank assassin who loved his students more than anything.

That much was clear. 

“What happened?”

“Your girl said Orochimaru’s in the forest.”

Kakashi felt his heart stop, eyes flashing over to where the other jōnin teachers were sitting. They rose from their seats, approaching. Genma seemed to choke on nothing.

“She what? Did she encounter him?”

“He said she wasn't worth the effort.”

Kakashi vaguely wondered if Genma had the ability to kill Orochimaru. Probably not alone. Genma was one hell of a fighter, but he couldn't go head-to-head with a Sannin. For his part, Kakashi settled himself into mission mode.

“Genma, Asuma, Kurenai— let’s go. Ibiki, alert the Hokage.”

“Aoba, take care of my kids.” Genma settled a hand on his buddy’s arm before turning, battle-ready. Aoba nodded, moving to lay them out a bit more neatly. He turned, flicking open his holster of needles, settling them into his palms. “How’d that son of a bitch get into the village?”

“Are we sure the girl wasn’t lying? I mean, she could’ve just opened the scroll and—” Asuma was cut off by a senbon piercing the wall by his head, just a hair from his nose. Kakashi would’ve laughed at his expression, if the situation weren’t dire. Genma's expression was thunderous. “Fine, fine. So then—”

Kakashi stopped, brows pulling together in thought. Asuma had a point. They knew nothing about what they might be approaching. He turned to Aoba, who was still kneeling over the kids. “Aoba. Do it.”

Aoba, good guy that he was, seemed shocked for all of a few moments before shaking his head. “She’s just a genin. We don’t even know—”

“Do it.”

Genma’s mouth opened as if to protest, but he instead closed his lips over the senbon and then withdrew it. His eyes had hardened to reveal the infamous Red Rain, the internationally-known assassin and killer. “Do it, Aoba. I trust you to protect her. After all, I was gonna ask you to teach her eventually.”

That seemed to surprise Aoba, who immediately pressed his hand to the girl’s forehead. His eyes slid closed behind the sunglasses. Kakashi shifted, waiting. Aoba had the ability to read minds. One of the best in the village and one of the topmost ranked members of Torture and Interrogation. If anyone could pick through a pre-teen's mind in a tactful way, it would be Aoba.

To do this to a young genin was taking extreme measures, but the girl was unconscious and she was obviously trying to warn them. They couldn’t wait for her to awaken.

Aoba came to a moment later, frantically scanning the room, whipping his head this way and that. Checking entrances and exits. Genma tensed beside them, noticing the expression on his friend’s face. Battle-ready. After a few moments, Aoba seemed settle, looking down at the Akimichi with his mouth opened as if he didn’t know what to say.

Her eyes opened and she immediately sat up, staring at the man next to her with wide eyes. She looked as if she'd awakened from a nightmare. Her entire large Akimichi frame was shaking as she gulped in huge breaths. Genma shifted next to him, looking like he wanted to run to his student's side again.

"Miho." 

She didn't turn to her teacher. Instead, she kept her eyes on Aoba. It was as if she didn't even hear Genma's voice.

“Aoba. C’mon, man.”

Kakashi waited, watching as Aoba continued to stare down at the Akimichi. She stared back up at him. Any other person might've gotten uncomfortable under Aoba's gaze. The guy liked to pick people apart, deduce all he could about them, figure them out. He called it "intuition" and it was annoying as all hell. And it was disturbing when he did it. The girl shifted and winced, pressing a hand to the wound on her head. He wondered if Orochimaru’s attack had been worse than they thought.

"He's-He's here. He is." The girl's voice was brittle as she seemed to panic, still staring at Aoba. His inaction was stalling and she sensed it. "Do something. Please."

Finally, Aoba looked up and stood.

“Orochimaru plans to attack Team Seven. He wants the Uchiha’s eyes.”

Kakashi moved before hearing the rest of what Aoba had to say.

Chapter Text

“Team Ten, come with me.”

Yamanaka Ino startled, looking to a man that stood at the end of the hallway. Even in the dimness of that hall, he wore sunglasses. And, though his stance was relaxed and at-ease, she could hear the firm order in his tone. Ino turned and looked to her teammates.

Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders, tucking his hands into his pockets. Chōji downed the rest of his chips in one go, replenishing his calories. Then, to show he understood the seriousness of the order, he put the chip bag away.

“Do you mind if I ask who you are, jōnin, sir?”

“Yamashiro Aoba. I’m…a teacher… of Akimichi Miho. Or, I will be. One of them anyway. She's got several. This is important.” He stepped back and held the door open, jerking his head toward the inside. “It involves the moon, big fluffy things, and…a pretty wild story.”

Ino moved without thought, feeling her heart pulsing in her ears. She could barely breath with what he was implying and, when she stepped past him into the cool, cool air of a team barrack, she felt the air get caught in her throat.

Miho hurried to her feet, rushing around the bed to throw herself at Ino. She was careful not to throw all of her weight, like usual, but still, Miho’s hug was fierce and filled with a lot of fear. Ino knew her friend, still better than anyone else, and she knew that Miho normally kept her fears in check. Whatever had happened, rattled her.

And injured her, if the cuts and bruises were anything to go by.

And that made Ino want to break things.

“What’s this all about?” She heard Shikamaru ask as Miho pulled away to move to her brother, who embraced her with a protective fierceness that was communicated through the stare he sent Ino over his sister’s shoulder.

Shikamaru had placed himself between them and the jōnin.

For all his want to be lazy, her teammate was protective to a fault.

“You know.”

Ino held her breath. Shikamaru's tone was definitive.

“Yeah, kid.” The jōnin— Yamashiro Aoba, he said— nodded and leaned against the wall. “I know.”

“He read my mind.” Miho supplied, looking between Aoba and Shikamaru as she stepped forward. Ino was trying to read the emotions. Miho wasn’t afraid of him. She almost seemed grateful, nodding toward him to emphasis particular words. “He knocked me unconscious after I opened the scroll and then read my mind to get access to my memories of Orochimaru. So they could find him.”

Shikamaru groaned, palming his forehead.

“Saw a lot more than I bargained for. Didn’t really expect to see a squad new genin committing treason. It’s bold. He held up a hand as if trying to block their explanations. Ino's argument burned her throat. “Withholding information from the leader of the village is treason, kids. Let’s not get it twisted. Treason by omission is still treason.”

“We’ve been working to stop all of that from happening.”

“Orochimaru was attacking Team Seven when reinforcements arrived. That particular crisis was averted.” Ino felt her mouth open as she turned to Miho, whose eyes were wide with shock. Did he not tell her that already? Had he been waiting for a more dramatic moment to reveal it? Ino bit down a sarcastic remark and shifted her feet. This guy was already annoying. “What exactly were you all planning to do from there? Just casually mention that we’re due to be invaded in a month?”

Shikamaru scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I would’ve overheard a bothersome conversation on a rooftop between Kabuto and Suna’s representative.”

“Yeah? And telling the Hokage that the Kazekage is dead and his son in a loose cannon jinchuriki?” The jōnin’s tone was faintly amused, but with an edge like steel. He gestured toward Miho. “I already know what she thinks. That she’ll die for what she knows.”

Ino didn’t miss the flash in his eyes.

What Miho knew was dangerous. What they all knew was dangerous. The Uchiha Massacre was just one among at least ten S-class secrets. While her friend only remembered highlights and specific character events, she still remembered dangerous things drawn in two-dimensional pictures.

Even if the Hokage was willing to let them live, others certainly wouldn’t.

“So, what? Are you going to report us?” Chōji’s voice was hard. Like stone. He was angled in front of his sister, as if he could somehow fight off a jōnin. Honestly, Ino wouldn’t put it past him to try. Chōji wasn’t above coming to blows with a jōnin if it meant protecting his people. Particularly Miho.

“We could start with Commander Nara. He wouldn’t allow his only son to come to harm. He’d figure out a plan to protect the Three. He’d know how to approach it with the Hokage. She only has a finite amount of information. The Hokage won’t kill her for something like that.”

Ino barely held back a scoff at Shikamaru’s disbelieving snort.

This guy was way too naïve to be a shinobi.

She stepped forward, fisting her hands at her sides as Chōji stepped up beside his sister to pull her completely behind his mass. She was still larger than him by a head, so the image was somewhat lessened. The intent wasn't though.

“Hawks are omnivores. Did you know that? Interesting tidbit of information, right?”

The jōnin’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. She felt the corners of her lips tip upward, but the amusement didn’t meet her eyes.

He got the reference then.

Shimura Danzō, the old war hawk.

She wondered if he recalled the pictures as vividly as she did. Her own cousin, who she used to play with. Fū was her replacement in Root. A mechanical soldier doing the dirty deeds of Konoha behind the Hokage's back. A whole army and arsenal, unchecked by anyone.

“You’re thinking of Miho as a resource. Fine.” Chōji spoke up, shifting attention. His family understood resource metaphors more than anyone. “There’s only so much of a resource.”

“What usually happens when a resource runs out?” Miho questioned. Her friend’s chin was held high and her feet squared beneath her shoulders. Weight-balance, center of gravity. Miho did it without thought now. “Aoba-sensei, I trust your judgement. Genma-sensei trusts you, so I will too. I may not like the Monkey Teacher, but it was never him I really feared.”

“You say that like the Monkey Teacher is a puppet.”

Ino rolled her shoulders. She was too tired and dirty for this. Way too tired and way too dirty. For a guy that could read minds, he sure was slow to understanding. And that irritated her. 

He should do better. Shikamaru fell onto the center bed, face down. It didn't break the tension. 

His voice was muffled by the sheets when he spoke. “You saw what Miho remembers.”

“I did.”  

“That hawk has already preyed on the Three. He’s already destroyed an entire clan. If he finds out that such knowledge exists outside of his circle, what do you think will happen?” Shikamaru’s expression was placid and civil, pressed against the sheets. Bored. He was bored by all this. His eyes slid closed. “Do you really think that we can risk it?"

Ino squeezed her eyes shut, wincing as it was stated straight-out.

They knew too much.

And the consequences were too steep if things went wrong, like an old war criminal finding out that they knew about all his Dirty Deeds. They knew all about his secret force. They knew too much.

“Damn it.” The jōnin muttered, lifting a hand to his forehead. Maybe he’d finally wrapped his head around how screwed he now was right along with them. And he was screwed. Just like them. “Damn it.”

Miho sighed, nodding her head in commiseration. She withdrew a bag of chips, slipping one onto her tongue. “Right?”

His kids were safe. They were fine.

Really, that was all he could ask for given the current situation. Koji and Tetsuya were holed up in one of the team barracks, tending their wounds and silently contemplating what had happened. When he checked on them and heard their story of the whole situation, Genma tried to piece together the hows and the whys.

The more he tried to do that, the less sense everything made.

Especially since the boys said Miho had been separated from them before they’d even awakened.

Especially since the boys were frantic in their worry for her.

He guessed, really, that he should just be grateful his kids were alive. That they weren’t on Orochimaru’s radar for some absolutely wild, absurd reason. That they made it out of the exams in one piece.

But Genma knew something was off.

He hadn't survived to his age by ignoring his gut. And his gut said something was off. 

Rolling his senbon to the right corner of his mouth, he knocked on the door and waited for her voice to call him inside. When it came, he eased through the door, trying not to be surprised when he found Aoba sitting across the room as if standing guard. He caught his friend’s eyes and raised a brow. On the other side of the room, Team Ten was circled around his student.

The Nara was asleep. The Akimichi (well, both of them) were eating. And the Yamanaka was glaring at Genma with a fury. As if he’d done something stupid to warrant it. Which, to his knowledge, he hadn't.

The silence was strange. 

“So...what’s up?”

“Nothin’ much.” Aoba shrugged. “Your student’s given me five cookies in two hours and I’m pretty sure she’s out to ruin my awesome physique.”

Miho laughed and he turned to study her. She looked leaps and bounds better than she had when he’d set off to hunt a Sannin. The blood had been cleaned from her face and she’d changed into a fresh outfit. Still, the cuts and bruises marbled her skin.

And the bags under her eyes were more pronounced than ever.

He’d never noticed them before.

He briefly wondered how the boys would react to her current appearance.

She looked rough.

Better to keep Book Club separated for the time-being. For her sake as much as theirs. No doubt she wasn’t in the mood for their nagging. It seemed Team Ten was acting as guardians in the meantime, positioned as a three-point defense. For some reason or other. Even the Nara, who was sprawled out on the center bed, snoring.

“The guys said you took down two Kusa shinobi.”

She jerked her head around to stare at him before nodding. “Got their scroll, too.”

“You got both scrolls. If you’d come to the tower, you would’ve definitely made it to the next round.”

He watched as she looked away, fiddling with the edge of her yukata. He was learning her mannerisms, her tells. Her brother glanced at her, pausing minutely in his shoveling of chips.

“I did what I had to do.”

“Yeah.”

He moved to sit on the bed opposite her, back to Aoba and alongside the sprawled Nara. She turned to stare at him, as if waiting for him to admonish her in some way. In his mind, Genma had to keep his anger in check. Why was that what she was expecting? To be chastised for her actions? 

The furious expression on the Yamanaka’s face was telling enough. She’d murder him in cold blood for a negative word. That girl would be a terrifying force one day.

Like her father.

Scoffing, he sat back and rolled the senbon between his teeth.

“You made the right call. Because of you, we were able to protect Uchiha Sasuke. Because of you, Orochimaru’s plan was ruined.”

Her eyes went wide and he noticed that they flickered behind him, to Aoba. He saw her jaw clench then unclench. Her brother shifted, eating a few more chips per handful. The Yamanaka sagged. Behind him, he felt the Nara wake up. A lot of tells, but no clear reason.

Why?

“Just Sasuke? Why stop there?”

Miho was normally confident, even in her lies. Her voice was shaking.

Genma felt something odd shift in the room and he turned to look at Aoba. Aoba, who was tense and coiled. As if he was about to send a flock of crows down on some enemy. Aoba, who had nerves of steel. Aoba, who faced down entire battalions and didn't bat an eye.

“It… doesn’t make sense.”

“Which part?”

“Orochimaru went after the Uchiha. Fine. But he could’ve done that anytime. Could’ve done it when Team Seven was on a mission. Why now? Why during the exams? What’s the point?” Aoba’s voice was calm and level, but Genma could feel the energy spiraling around the room. “There’s got to be something more going on. A one-off? No way.”

“They’ve got the Uchiha protected.”

He didn’t miss the Nara’s huffed scoff, even if he was still feigning sleep. Not even trying to hide it.

Just like his father.

“Orochimaru’s not the kind to give up so easily.” Aoba shifted forward. Genma nodded, not quite sure why he felt so… unbalanced. Off. Something was off. “That’s what you’re saying. The Hokage was his teacher. He knows Orochimaru’s not the kind to showboat for no reason.”

“We need to up security for the whole village.”

Nodding, Genma agreed and turned back to Miho.

What he saw was chilling.

Her eyes were vacant.

Unseeing.

She was staring at the post of the bed he sat on, eyes wide and detached.

“Miho?”

No response. Her eyes remained unfocused on the bedpost, hands clenching then unclenching and clenching again. Her back was rigid. Genma was on his feet in a flash, moving to stand in front of her. He felt the Nara move behind him.

“Aoba, what’s going on?”

His friend was in front of her immediately, kneeling down to grab her hands.

The Yamanaka was moving to her knees beside her friend, hand rising as if to press it to her head.

“Stop. Don’t.”

The blonde froze.

Genma was not used to feeling confused. Uninformed, sure. Unprepared, of course. But not confused.

His attention flickered to her brother. He’d expected to see fear or frantic worry. Instead, he saw sadness and resignation. Her brother didn't move. As if he’d seen this before. As if he knew what this was. Genma felt his stomach turn.

This was normal. A normal he didn’t know.

“You’re not at fault.”

He must’ve heard her thoughts. Aoba had that ability, to hear someone’s mind even without touching them. Genma felt himself tense, wondering what he’d heard in his student’s head. What did she feel was her fault?

“Miho. Wake up.”

Miho’s eyes flickered and she came back to reality, eyes focusing again. They flashed around the space, looking for vulnerabilities, for weaknesses, for defensible spaces. Genma kept his knee-jerk anger in check. As a new genin, she had no reason to be falling into trauma responses. He shared a look with Aoba.

Her eyes widened and she looked to Aoba again.

Then, her head shook. She shook.

A whole conversation was happening in front of him and he couldn’t hear it. Genma took the senbon from his mouth. Whatever was happening in this room, his student was at the center of it.

“There somethin’ I should know?”

His student’s eyes fell on him. And she was terrified.

He’d seen her take a near-fatal blow before and she looked calmer than this. He’d seen her face down the Hokage, stand firm in her decisions and beliefs in front of the strongest shinobi in the village. This was chaotic fear given form and he didn’t know what to do. He pulled in a breath and looked down at Aoba.

He was met with a firm stare, willing him to be quiet and wait.

Wait for what, he wasn’t sure.

He watched as she turned to her brother, who held her gaze for a few moments before shrugging. She turned to the Yamanaka, her obvious fear building, and the girl only stared back. She gave no answer to the unspoken question. Finally, she looked across the space to the now-sitting-up Nara.

He stared at her for a long moment before sighing. He threw an arm over his eyes. “This is a drag.”

Miho nodded, finally looking up to him.

For all his years as a shinobi, Genma had experienced all kinds of tragedy. He’d murdered fathers and mothers and all manner of people. He’d taken out entire platoons. He’d done so much in the name of his village. But, in all his years of service, he’d never seen that kind of trust in a person’s face.

“Genma-sensei, I need to tell you something.”

She glanced away, toward Aoba.

Aoba, who knew whatever the ‘something’ was.

She looked around at Team Ten before seeming to lose her energy. She sagged as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. “I— I don’t know if this is the right decision.”

Aoba stood. “He’s former ANBU. He’s your teacher. He’s one of my best friends. He was your father’s student and worked closely with your birth father. He’s arguably one of the best shinobi in the village.” He shifted, standing straighter at Aoba’s words. Somehow, it felt like he needed to prove himself. “If you can’t trust him, then you can’t trust anyone.”

Genma tensed, not knowing where this was going. What did he need their trust for? To such an extent?

Miho’s eyes squeezed shut.

“Show him.”

The Nara had picked himself from the bed and saddled next to his team. His arms crossed as he yawned. “You should probably sit down.”

“Yeah,” Aoba drawled. Genma looked to him and held his eyes for a moment. They’d been in life-or-death situations together. They’d been in war together. He trusted Aoba more than he trusted most people. He held up his right hand, the one he used to enter people’s minds. “You’re definitely gonna want to sit down.”

Shifting his attention back to his student, she stared back up at him, unwaveringly. Like she did when she faced down the Hokage. He could see the fear, but— beyond that— he could see her faith in him. Faith in him. It was conflicted faith, but it was there. And Genma, for the first time in so, so long, wanted to earn that kind of trust.

He lowered himself down onto the cot’s edge, pulling the senbon from his teeth. “You can trust me.”

Aoba’s hand came to rest on his forehead.

And the world erupted into chaos.

She was shaking. It was too much. All of it, how quickly it was unraveling. Years and years of silence was unweaving itself before her very eyes. The cinching thread was attached to Aoba and all of his movements, a red string that tore away the patterns and threads until everything was a fray of tattered fabric. Next to her, she felt Chōji shift and take her hand.

She didn’t miss the way Ino slid forward, to position herself in front of Miho. That had Miho reaching forward to grab her shoulder— to force her back, get her to move. Anything to keep her friend from thinking she needed to do that, to block her.

Ino just shrugged her hand off, sending her a dark look over her shoulder.

“Two jōnin are better than one.”

“What if he wants to go to the Hokage like Yamashiro did?” Ino questioned, raising a brow at Shikamaru. He kept his expression neutral, but Miho could see the tick in his jaw. He didn’t know how this would turn out any more than the rest of them did. “Then what?”

“It’s coming.” Chōji spoke, voice hard. Miho felt his hand tighten around hers. “We avoided one part, but what about the rest? We can’t do this alone. How’re we suppose to stop all of it?”

“We could’ve.” Ino retorted, carding a hand through her dirty, sweaty hair. She hadn’t even had time to rest since arriving to the tower. Miho released her shoulder and let her hand fall back to her side. She tried to ignore that Aoba was still in her teacher’s mind. “We could’ve done exactly what Shikamaru said. Dropped clues, avoided all this—”

“Then what? There’s too many moving parts. Our hand was forced.” Shikamaru rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. They’d been over this, silently, through looks and expressions. “We needed reinforcements.”

Aoba-sensei stepped back, hand dropping away from her teacher’s forehead. She slid forward, leaning on the edge of the cot as his eyes opened. Their usual sharp brown was dulled. His expression was calm and, contrary to other reactions, he remained still. He just looked at her before sighing and lifting his right hand to put a senbon between his teeth.

“Well,” he said after a long, tense moment. “That was somethin’.”

Miho released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Understatement of the year, my friend.” Aoba-sensei swung a leg over a nearby chair as he sat down, waving his hand. “Gai on a training rampage is something. This is… something else.”

“Articulate.” Genma-sensei blandly complimented. She stood upright when his attention finally fell to her. “Knowing all that—must’ve been hard.”

Miho tried to focus on the feel of the rough canvas of her backup yukata against her palms. She tried to focus on the gnawing sensation of hunger in her stomach that seemed to echo into her shoulders, making them ache. She tried to focus on the grit she felt on her skin, matted with the sweat. She tried so hard not to cry. But she failed.

“Calm down. Deep breaths, okay?”

“So’re you gonna report us to the Hokage for treason?”

Miho could hear the bite in Ino’s tone and she could imagine her friend sending Aoba-sensei a scathing look. She fought back the tears, forcing them into submission as she raised her head again. Crying wasn’t going to solve any of this, however overwhelming it was.

Genma-sensei wasn’t studying her anymore. Instead, his attention shifted between Ino, Shikamaru, and Chōji.

“Now this dynamic makes sense.”

“What do you mean, Genma-sensei?”

“Shades there helped you in the exam.”

Shikamaru smirked around the “troublesome” he breathed out.

“I’m ‘Shades.’ Think of another nickname.” Aoba-sensei replied flippantly from where he sat hugging the back of a chair. “Call him Shadow Boy or something.”

“Shadow Boy is lame, Peanut Gallery.” Genma-sensei shot back with a bland smile. He turned back to Miho. “You needed to get past the first exam.”

“I was the radical element. I needed to warn someone of Orochimaru’s presence and stop the attack on Sasuke.” She felt disappointment slam into her as she shook her head. “It didn’t stop Orochimaru from slapping that seal on Naruto though.” Sighing, she pressed a hand to her forehead, which was beginning to ache.

A tap on her shoulder drew her attention away from her teacher’s face. Chōji held out a bag of barbecue chips, gesturing for her to take them. She’d need to calorie load for the rest of the day if she was going to make her quota.

“This all explains the privacy seal on the door as well.” Genma-sensei noted, jerking his head toward the door. “That’s gonna become obvious after a while, so we’re gonna need to wrap this up. Tell me you have codenames for stuff. Otherwise, how the hell did you keep this a secret so long?”

Miho felt a smile pull at her lips at her teacher’s easy acceptance. It’d thrown her— and everyone else— off-kilter. She could feel Team Ten’s suspicion.

“We don’t have codenames.”

“You don’t have codenames.” Genma-sensei looked completely scandalized. “Who are you and what’ve you done with my student?”

“So, wait, you’re cool with this?” Ino inserted herself, crossing her arms. “Miho remembers the future from a past life, saw Konoha invaded, destroyed, and a massive war, and you’re worried about codenames.”

Genma-sensei’s demeanor shifted. She knew the switch at once, recognizing as he fell into shinobi-mode rather than Genma-mode. His eyes hardened and narrowed, back straightening. This was a former ANBU operative and a leading jōnin. “No, Yamanaka, I’m not ‘cool’ with any of this.”

“Codenames help to maintain secrecy and add a layer of protection to a mission.” Aoba added, chin on his folded arms. His voice was a bit slurred as he didn’t bother to raise his head. “Like using the Hawk reference before. It’s typical of high-level missions with necessary secrecy.”

“Considering this is going to be one hell of a long op, I’d say codenames are a necessity.” Genma-sensei looked down to his shoes or the floor, seeming to think through something. “If we’re gonna avoid this absolute shitshow, we better get moving.”

“You’re not gonna tell the Hokage?” Chōji wondered aloud, coming to stand by Miho’s side.

“The Hokage should know.” He held up a hand when Ino went to argue. “Eventually. We need more strategic pieces in place before that happens.”  

Miho felt the shaking start in her chest.

“You mean my dad.” Shikamaru stated, eyes half-lidded. “You’re saying we need a gold general.” While Miho recognized the shogi terminology, she didn’t quite follow his meaning. He seemed to sense this and he sighed. “Troublesome. Should’ve listened when I explained the game.”

Miho just stared at him, not in the mood for that kind of shrug-off.

“Nah, kid, we need a gamemaster. And you’re good, kid, but you’re not there yet.” Genma-sensei clicked his tongue while Aoba nodded. Her teacher looked to her, sliding down from the edge of the bed to kneel in front of her, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “The Hawk won’t get you. This will work. It will.” He smiled around the senbon. “Besides, you’re not the only one with that knowledge now. You’ve got five people here you can rely on.”

Five people that were now in danger. Because of her. Five people that may suffer some terrible fates because she’d already altered the story. Danzō could come for them. The Hokage could use them or abuse them. She tried to control the panic, pushing it down and away. Swallowing it, holding it in her stomach. Like the chips that festered there.

Knowledge like this didn’t come without consequences.

Still, Miho nodded.

She could hope for the best, regardless.

After all, now her teacher knew.

And Sasuke was safe. For now.

And her friends were safe, for now.

“Let’s go see if an exception can be made.”

Genma-sensei stood, moving toward the door.

“An exception?”

“I deal in technicalities.” Her teacher smirked, opening the door and cancelling the seal. “You may wanna go find the boys. Maybe they won't nag you.” He stopped and winked, voice becoming deadpan. “And stop showing favoritism to Team Ten. They’re lame and boring and I really don't get why you like them so much.”

Aoba-sensei laughed. Miho felt herself grin, some of the tension melting from her abdomen as Ino screeched out a counter-argument. Miho turned to Chōji, burying her face in his shoulder and deflating into his arms. For a long moment, it seemed like everything just might be okay.

Apparently, the exception was the ability to watch the preliminary rounds. Miho wondered just how Genma-sensei made the case to the Hokage. Perhaps it was a kind of reward, given the calm smile that the old man gave her as they entered the viewing platform. For reporting instead of progressing in the exam? Miho wasn’t entirely sure. Both Koji and Tetsuya ran to the railing, situating themselves in a prime viewing position.

“You ask me this is better than actually fighting.” Koji shrugged, leaning his back against the rail while waiting for the other teams to make it up to the viewing platform. “We weren’t ready on an individual level anyway.”

He had a point. Miho smiled, propping her elbows on the rail as she leaned forward beside him. A chip bag was held in one hand. “Dinner and a show.”

“I wanna see the Nara actually have to fight.” Tetsuya drawled, smiling at Miho’s chastising look. “What?”

“Puppet Dude’s fight is the one I’m lookin’ forward to. Never seen a puppeteer fight before.”

“How’d’ya know he’s a puppeteer? He could be just carryin’ a big doll around.”

“If he’s a puppeteer, that’s exactly what he’s doin’!”

Miho nearly choked when she saw Kankurō’s eyes cut up to the viewing platform from where he was walking below. The corners of his painted lips pulled up. He met her eyes. Her heart jumped into her throat and she ducked out of view, coughing. “He heard you.”

“So what?” Tetsuya scoffed. "I don't care."

Genma-sensei’s laugh came from their right and they turned to see him propped against the wall. “Try not to egg on the international teams, nerds. You’re lucky you’re in here in the first place.”

Koji and Tetsuya settled a bit before Tetsuya turned to their teacher and smiled. “So, we rag on the home teams?”

Genma-sensei shrugged. “Go for it.”

Her teammates had been very careful about how they approached the Orochimaru situation, sworn to absolute secrecy by Genma-sensei. Still, when she’d arrived in their barracks earlier, she’d been enveloped in hugs and told, in no uncertain terms, that she was never to go off for a side battle again. They knew it was an empty promise, but she still gave her word—if only to make them feel better.

They didn’t ask any more questions than: Was she okay? What happened? Did he hurt anyone in the forest? And was he gone? Once they had the answers to those questions, they let the matter drop.

And, despite Miho thinking otherwise, they were completely fine with missing out on the rest of the exam.

Or, at least, not progressing in it.

“We already decided to go as far as we could. We’ll definitely be ready next time. Whether or not that whole thing happened, Chubs, we still wouldn’t have made it to the finals.”

“And that’s okay.” Koji had inserted with a thumbs-up.

“And that’s okay!” Tetsuya had agreed.

And it seemed, as simple as that, the issue was settled.

Her team was beautiful and she loved them. 

She loved them. 

Miho wondered vaguely if they’d already resolved to just let it go before she’d arrived to the barrack, but she was too grateful to ask.

She watched from the platform as the participants were given an opportunity to drop out. This time, Kabuto was not around to withdraw. In fact, his whole team was absent. Another team from Grass had taken their place somehow. 

A change. 

Miho's concern shifted to the proctor, who was attempting to speak below.

“Genma-sensei, is Hayate-sensei okay?”

“Funny that you remembered his name, Miho.”

She flinched, realizing that she’d never met the coughing man before. But she did remember him. Just like she remembered how he died.

Genma-sensei sent her a look that told her to calm down. She took a large bite of a cookie and focused on chewing it. “He’s fine. Just can’t shake the cough.”

She couldn’t remember the order of the fights. Just flashes of some, clearer images of others— Naruto and Kiba’s, Shikamaru’s, Ino and Sakura’s, Neji and Hinata’s, and Gaara and Lee’s. Sasuke’s was a blank space. She couldn't remember her brother's. 

She couldn't remember Choji's fight. 

“Don’t worry, Miho.”

Miho nodded at Genma-sensei’s words, but that was easier said than done.

Slowly, the teams filtered up to the platform. Miho idly watched, breaking apart a cookie while silently hoping that the Suna team kept to the opposite end. Not because she didn’t like them but because she did.

In the Images, she remembered things about that team more clearly than other characters. Kankurō’s fight was crystal clear. Garra’s bout with Gaara and subsequent fight with Sasuke. The battle in the forest. Temari’s fight with Shikamaru. Kankurō trying to save Gaara. Gaara lifeless. Temari’s command in the war. Gaara’s words at the Kage Summit, the speech before the Shinobi Alliance.

All of it was clear, as if the memories were her own. Hers. 

Miho kept her attention away from them, focusing instead on the energetic ball of sunshine barreling her way.

“MIHO! YOU’RE HERE?! What’re you doin’ here, huh? Bushy Brows said that your team got disqualified! I told him he had to be crazy 'cause you're a badass fighter, but then he--” He jerked back, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “Koji— Man, were you the one to screw up and get Team Five disqualified? I knew it!”

Koji grinned, glancing at her before giving a reverent nod, holding a hand over his heart. It had all the gravitas of a formal declaration. Behind him Tetsuya dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Totally my fault.” Miho smiled. “The Hokage let us hang out because we failed so spectacularly. Miho's only here to keep the two of us in check.”

Lee approached a moment later, pulling her into an embrace. Naruto meanwhile leaned over the railing to scream encouragement to Sasuke, who summarily ignored Naruto’s shouted support. A bit muffled by her shoulder, Lee seemed far more subdued than usual. And her heart was thrumming nervously in her chest when her eyes caught sight of red hair at the end of the platform.

No.

“I am sorry that you cannot compete, my friend. These people would have truly benefited from seeing your Youth in action.”

“They’ll benefit more from seeing yours.” Miho stepped back, reaching for his right arm. Unconsciously, she set to tightening his weights. It was an old habit, as old as the weights themselves. He waited while she did it, holding out his left arm when she was done. “Be careful, okay?”

“Yosh.”

She moved to stand by Genma-sensei, back against the wall, as Sasuke’s match began. He glanced down at her, but merely shifted his senbon in acknowledgement.

It’s not as cool without the background music.

Her entire body flinched as Ino’s presence came into her mind. She glanced over to find her friend’s head on Shikamaru’s shoulder as he propped her up. It was an incredible contrast to the Images, which showed her fangirling during the Uchiha’s match. Ino's voice scoffed in her head.

Think we can stop some stupidity today?

Miho glanced to Neji’s back, which was ramrod straight. She’d never paid much attention to just how long his hair was. It reminded her a bit for the River King’s. Miho heard a few hisses in the crowed when Sasuke’s opponent struck him down with a kick. Naruto let out a screech.

Short of jumping into the actual fight…

Ino’s presence melted away and Miho looked to see her friend shrugging as if to say ‘we gotta do what we gotta do.’ Shikamaru glanced at her then over to where Miho sat, eyes half-lidded.

He was so obviously bored.

“You guys are all cute, but you’re not discreet in the slightest.” Genma-sensei commented. “Focus on the—”

She heard the winds before the Images hit. The swirling and crashing and pummeling. The shattering of glass. The radio. A different song. A different song on the radio. A different song on the radio and a different time. 6:47pm. Kakashi and Sasuke, but there was no Kakashi and Sasuke in darkness now, was there? But Orochimaru was there.

That’s what makes us...

Orochimaru was there.

Shine on, shine on.

Orochimaru was— Miho focused, eyes tracking over the stadium to the other side of the space. Her heart plummeted into her stomach before jumping into her throat. It felt like indigestion, burning just below her sternum. That was— She forced her eyes to track away again, down to Sasuke, to Naruto’s back, to Chōji’s wide eyes, to Koji and Tetsuya, to Kankurō, to Sakura and Lee, and then— She looked up to her teacher.

“Have…” Her voice was rough and shaking. “Have…Have you ever read The Sky Temple series, Genma-sensei?”

Genma-sensei looked away from the fight. His eyes widened before he shrugged. “I’ve read it. Needed to know what you kids were geeking out about.”

Miho smiled despite the sharp fear that stabbed at her stomach. She reached up and pressed a hand to his forearm, squeezing on specific words. “The guardian of the south was my least favorite character. Here’s the thing: it was never the south that was evil— it was him.”

Character. Here. Evil. Him.

Orochimaru is here.

Her teacher nodded, eyes scanning the room as casually as any jōnin, and she watched as his eyes found the odd person out. The long-haired jōnin sensei from Otogakure. “I respect that opinion. I’m sure you’ve got some sort of literary opinion. You’re part of the Book Club after all.” She released his arm and he nodded.

Miho moved, forcing her body to steady as she walked toward the railing to watch as Sasuke dealt a serious blow to his opponent. The guy-- one of the random Kusa team that made it through-- struggled to stand back up.

When she glanced back again, Genma-sensei was gone and had moved to stand beside Kakashi-sensei.

“COME ON, SASUKE! FINISH HIM OFF!”

Sasuke dealt the final blow, a combination of taijutsu and ninjutsu. He twisted in the air, moving so fast and so easily that the movement seemed choreographed. He landed on his feet, shrugging off the win like it was nothing. He might as well have brushed off his shoulder. Still, he was breathing hard and was holding his right arm.

They’re going after him.

Ino’s voice seemed stronger this time, more powerful. Miho didn't jolt at the sudden intrusion. She didn’t turn away from the battleground, keeping her eyes focused on the screen as it cycled through names. Ino must've noticed him. Her brother and Shikamaru as well. They were all playing a game: Avoid Tipping Off the Crazy Sannin.

Aren’t they?

Miho shifted. I don’t know.

Orochimaru would have no reason to confront Kakashi-sensei now. Sasuke didn’t have the Curse Seal. There was no telling what actions Orochimaru would take in order to secure the Uchiha. Even if she wasn’t fond of him, Miho couldn’t let Sasuke be so manipulated without doing something to stop it. He didn't deserve that. 

Naruto didn't deserve to be condemned to chasing him down either.

As he came up to the platform, moving to Naruto’s side and earning a nod from his teacher, Miho fished a cookie out from her snack pack. She held it out without looking at him, not wanting to draw much attention to the action. She felt his disbelief before the cookie was taken from her hand.

“Are you only here to deliver snacks?” A voice asked from her right. She turned and felt her heart jump into her ears. The thumping there made it seem like the world shrunk. Neji was staring at the screen, arms crossed. Her eyes slipped to Lee, who was glaring but holding back his anger to let her handle this herself. “After all, why else would losers be allowed here?”

Miho swallowed down anger that felt a lot like hunger. She wondered if Sasuke heard the comments from where he stood at her other side. Naruto was loudly complaining about the delay in announcing the next bout, so maybe not? It didn't matter. Her anger was so white hot that she briefly wondered if she could uppercut the Hyuuga instead of Naruto.

In lieu of an answer, Miho reached in her pack and held out a protein cookie to the Hyuuga. She turned when he didn’t take it. He was staring her down, very obviously offended at the proffered snack. And probably offended because he was caught off-guard.  

Lee really did have a good understanding of his teammate.

“You have any dietary restrictions, Hyuuga? Gluten allergy, maybe?”

The guy’s brows drew together just a bit. He was irritated.

“Chubs, don’t waste your breath on him. He’s being a jerk.”

Miho ignored Tetsuya’s huff and withdrew the cookie, taking a bite out of it herself. “I only offer cookies to the winners of honorable matches. We’ll see if you earn one. I have some gluten-free ones.”

“I do not want a cookie.”

Nodding, she shrugged. “Yeah, you don’t strike me as the ‘cookie’ type, Hyuuga.” She walked away then, trying to get away from the Hyuuga and all of his repressed (and not-so-repressed) drama. She settled on the railing by her teammates again, sharing a look with them that begged them to let it go. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Stop offering cookies to people that aren’t us, Chubs.”

Koji let out a guffaw, clapping her on the shoulder. “The whole platform heard the honorable win cookie prize bit. You might be out of cookies by the end of all this, sweetheart.”

“I want two when I win.”

Kankurō walked past, not even turning around to acknowledge that he said anything. He descended the stairs, ending the arena for his match. Miho watched with wide eyes, not quite sure if she heard him right. That couldn’t have been what she heard, right? Koji laughed again, turning a thumbs-down at the puppeteer in the arena while Tetsuya rolled his eyes.

“Not happening, man!”

In her peripheral vision, as she stared down at Kankurō in the arena, she saw Orochimaru disappear in a puff of smoke.

Jerking around, she noticed that three of the jōnin teachers had also disappeared. Genma-sensei among them. 

Dread blurred her vision and she felt the cool air on the sweat that built on the back of her neck, along her arms. Why did fear feel so much like hunger?

“Miho?”

She turned and nodded, jerking herself out of the panic. There was no time for it. Orochimaru was just one of several threats in that room. And he was now gone, with several top shinobi after him. The other threat, very quickly, was coming for one of her best friends and his future.

Lee.

His bones breaking.

His future and hope breaking, even if just for a time.

Biting her tongue, she turned and looked at the Suna team as Kankurō’s match began. She could hear the sound of his false struggling, his theatre. The performance. Temari focused on her brother’s battle, eyes narrowed and critical of the show he put on. But Gaara…Sensing the attention, Gaara turned and held her gaze.

Cold. Detatched. Not there.

Absent.

Come back, Gaara!

She kept her breathing as steady as possible, not backing down from meeting his eyes. She felt pressure on her chest. Like the air was thinning. The heaviness settled between her shoulder blades, the weight of everything she knew about him and what he’d experienced, what he would do, pressing there.

The pressure of the current him sat over her throat like the blade of a kunai, a blade poised and primed. Ready to slit and cut. She wondered how bad of a mistake she was making, meeting his eyes like this. A terrible mistake. He was a desert’s rage given form.

Fear lanced through her when his eyes narrowed.

She wondered, vaguely, if this was what She felt like when she chased storms. The her there and then. When She saw those towers of winds and clouds, did she feel the same instinct? Was She afraid of that kind of power? Did She feel like she was suffocating as the wind struck her, when it buffeted her? Did she cower in front of those storms? How did She, there and then, face a force of nature?

Three long, blaring beeps.

Miho jolted, losing focus on his face.

One long tone.  

--Wyandotte County. The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for southern Wyandotte County, A  tornado emergency for western Kansas City and—

Miho looked away. She hadn't meant to stare that long.

She felt his eyes still on her.

That was a mistake.

She’d made another mistake.

Gulping in air, she held it in her lungs and waited for it to burn.

No matter what life, it seemed she couldn’t help but to stare down natural disasters— whatever form they took.

Chapter Text

Ino won.

In the Images, she and Sakura had knocked each other out— a stalemate in their long-time battle of wills. That dynamic didn’t exist in this "telling" and both girls fought as hard as they could with good hearts and respect for each other, rather than out of rivalry. When, after a grueling taijutsu brawl, Ino held Sakura’s kunai to her own throat, Hayate-sensei called the match. Ino drew Sakura into a hug, already talking about where improvements could be made and future spars they would have.

Sakura complimented Ino’s strategy, falling easily into step with the Yamanaka as they returned to the platform.

Ino had sworn, years and years ago, when they were just little girls, that the double knock-out would never happen. Mostly because she refused to stagnate her own training for the sake of some rivalry. Or to even have a rivalry in the first place. “We’re both girls! Kunoichi! Why wouldn’t I want her to succeed?” Ino had scoffed at the very notion. 

Miho beamed, turning to Koji.

He waved her off with a patient smile. “Yeah, yeah. Yamanaka’s ‘the best’ or whatever. Save it.” She watched as his expression changed and his raised his voice a bit. She imagined it was supposed to be some sort of imitation of her voice, but it was more screechy and high pitched. “But, why, Koji? She’s my best friend! Why do I gotta stop fangirling over here? No reason, just you’re ol’ friend Koji can’t stand any more hyping the harpy.” Miho rolled her eyes and shook her head. “What?”

“I’m not fangirling. I’m being supportive.”

“Sure, alright. You also don’t like cookies.”

“Speakin’ of.”

Miho jerked around, coming face-to-face with Kankurō. Kankurō, who was actually her height. Up close, she could see how the paint was applied, around his eyes and over his lips. It was a little disconcerting, but no more than his overbearing presence. He pushed his right hand into his pant pocket and held out his left. His eyes were (mockingly) expectant, brows raised.

“Well, are all Konoha shinobi lia—?”

He didn’t even finish his sentence before there were two cookies in his hand. Miho met his eyes, not wavering. “They’re high protein. Infused with my clan’s protein powder. It should give you some energy back after that honorable win.”

There was something entertaining about the dumbstruck expression on his face and the way he tried to hide it. And Miho half-expected for him to throw the cookies back at her. If only because she’d caught him off-guard. Out of principle.  

“Also, they’re not poisoned. The Akimichi don’t believe in food-based poisons. Ask anybody. It’d ruin our business. Can't have clients thinkin' we've poisoned the food supply or something.”

His fingers closed around the cookies and he stared at them before raising his eyes back to her. She wondered vaguely if he put the paint under his eyes because he couldn’t rest well with Gaara in his current state. Probably. After a moment, he shrugged. 

“Hah. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As if on strings himself, he mechanically moved back to his brother and teacher. Temari was already down in the arena, preparing to face Tenten. Carefully, Miho avoided Gaara’s stare, again, and turned back to the match.

She wouldn’t give Gaara a cookie for his win against Lee unless bones were unbroken. Miho had to remain consistent. She wondered if that reckless thought was just her mind actively trying to avoid remembering that the teachers hadn’t yet returned. Returned from whatever was happening with Orochimaru. Whatever new change was occurring elsewhere. So far outside of her control.

What was control anyway in this madness? 

Her heart stuttered and she focused on whatever could give her a stable thought.

“Can’t believe you gave Puppet Dude a cookie. Two cookies! You’re not a concession stand.”

“We already said to stop giving away cookies.” Tetsuya whined, shaking his head in disappointment. “And now you’re givin’ ‘em to foreign guys."

"Foreign guys!" Koji nodded, crossing his arms. 

"With creepy make-up!” Tetsuya tacked on, with a fierce glare toward the Suna team.

“War paint.” She and Koji corrected with shrugs.

“What the— What the actual hell? War paint?”

Koji took a few chips from Miho’s proffered bag, while she glanced around the space. The remaining teachers were tense. Kurenai was glancing around the arena, red eyes lingering in strange places. Like atop the folded hands of the statue or the top left back corner. Gai was coiled, ready to spring into action if needed. Something was off. Something was wrong. She just couldn’t sense it.

She had to work on her sensing abilities.

Another item to add to the improvements list. 

“Spirit Mountain uses war paint for big jobs.”

“They put on make-up to raid people?”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Koji deflated onto the railing. Below, Tenten circled around Temari. Miho lost focus, turning to see Genma-sensei materializing by the wall. As if he’d never left. As if he didn’t have a new cut on his cheek and no senbon in his mouth. Miho felt her stomach turn and worriedly glanced toward where Shikamaru was watching, eyes narrowed and alert. Ino’s eyes were shut. Chōji had stopped eating, looking up to a heavily-breathing Asuma. He was sporting a developing bruise on his left eye.

Eeking out an excuse, Miho moved to her teacher’s side. He was resting his weight on his right leg, casually hooking the left to rest against the wall. A leg injury? In the arena, Miho could hear Temari baiting Tenten. The rest of the bout would only last a few minutes. Sensing a change to her left, she noticed that both Kakashi had returned as well. 

“The Center Guardian is currently handling it.”

Miho translated The Sky Temple terminology to their context. The Center Guardian was the leader, the emperor. The Hokage. The Hokage was fighting Orochimaru.

The Hokage was fighting Orochimaru.

Miho’s stomach ached. Her eyes tracked toward where 'the Hokage' stood observing Tenten and Temari's match. A clone, she figured. “Handling it?”

A hand fell on the top of her head. “Later, Miho.”

“Why’re you back here?”

“Giving the Short Ones better viewing at the rails.”

She glared and he ruffled her hair, pushing none-too-gently at the back of her head. She followed the silent instructions and moved back to the railing, casting worried glances toward the ceilings and walls. As if they would crumble inward. As if, at any point, the future would crash in upon them. It was in his room that the story changed. Or maybe it changed forever ago? She wasn’t sure anymore.

          Shape without form, shade without colour,

          Paralysed force, gesture without motion.

Miho ignored the voice in her head. The gravelly, rough, old voice. The voice that sounded like crumpled newspapers and tobacco and smoke. And she could see an old man sitting at a large conference table with his feet kicked up and his loafers shining. A brixton on his balding head. The air smelled like old paper and mold.

         There, is a tree swinging
         And voices are
         In the wind's singing

And Tenten just lost. She was folded over the end of the fan. Miho winced when she landed, hearing a faint 'pop.' The air was still and it smelled like sweat. 

“Damn.” Koji hummed. “Windswept’s a badass.” Tetsuya scoffed.

“It’s Suna’s win.” Chōji summarized to her left. She glanced over to see his eyes opened and narrowed while Shikamaru leaned against the railing. His eyes cut to her and he said a lot with that look. Something is going to change. Something had already changed. 

The house of cards was falling. Miho felt like she was watching it in slow motion. 

Tenten was tossed and Lee jumped down to catch her, obviously losing his temper with Temari’s attitude. Miho clenched her teeth, gripping the railing so hard that she felt it crumple a bit, like tin beneath her fingers. Sucking in a deep breath, Miho held it. Tenten was gently set upon the ground. Then, she lost her patience, nervous energy thrumming in her chest.

“Lee! Knock it off and bring Tenten up here.”

Lee wasn’t even trying when he attacked and Temari had to realize that. He was hardly putting in a quarter of his usual effort. Miho looked down to see Tenten laying on the floor below, still unconscious and alone. While her teammates were—Neji didn't look like he was bothered. Lee was focusing more on his own emotions than his teammate. Rolling her eyes, she coiled her muscles and glanced back to Genma-sensei for permission. This was probably breaking rules. She wasn’t even supposed to be there, after all.

He shrugged, rolling his senbon to the left. Miho dropped into the arena just as Lee’s kick landed.

“Lee, stop!”

“What?”

She couldn’t hear what Temari was saying, but Miho hardly cared. Tenten was laid on her side, which was stupid for someone with a possible back injury. Lee wasn’t thinking. He was reacting. She knew back injuries were dangerous and she knew the treatment well enough from her own spars with Lee when he'd land terribly hard hits against her spine. Carefully, Miho arranged Tenten onto her back and looked up to Koji. He dropped some bandages into her waiting, outstretched hands.

"Just the worst ones. The medics are comin'."

“Temari. Come up quick. You’ve been declared the winner. Don’t keep company with that awful-looking guy and his chaperone forever.”

That was petty. Miho didn't remember Gaara being that kind of...bully.

“What…?”

Miho saw an opportunity. A stupid opportunity, but one that might change the narrative. The story was already changing, from what Shikamaru observed, by her presence alone. Now, even the Hokage had been caught up in the waves of change. Before, in the Images, Lee was established as someone to kill because of his rumored strength. From the way Gaara stared down at him, he didn’t yet have that impression. If she let Gai-sensei—

“That’s enough, Lee.” Gai-sensei started. “Gentlemen of Suna, I will—”

“Lee! Stop razzing the Suna team and call the medics.” Miho focused on bandaging Tenten’s arm, fully aware that all attention in the arena was on her. Fully-aware, too, that she’d interrupted Gai-sensei.

She’d have to apologize for that later.

The Hokage was off battling his wayward student somewhere and Miho was convinced that the Kakashi standing behind Team Seven was a clone. Ino won her match and now Lee wasn’t persona non grata for Gaara, at the moment at least. Who knew what other changes were coming? After all, there was the remaining members of the Kusa team to deal with. How they got through, she wasn’t sure, but none of the team members had fought yet.

There was every chance they could affect the line-up.

Her eyes tracked to Neji, who was watching from above.

“Hey, Gluten-Free, come down here and help me with your teammate.”

Lee stared up at Gaara for a moment longer before turning on his heel and marching over. His form was stiff and she could see the anger curling his lip. When she met his eyes, she could see that the anger was a shade less than righteous rage. And some of it, really, was meant for her. He arrived and Neji landed two steps away. They both stared down at Tenten before kneeling. Miho was all-too-aware of Neji’s scowl, but she really couldn’t care less.

“Miho, it’s wrong. She fought honorably.”

“Honor’s not always rewarded, Lee. By all rights, Temari’s fight was honorable. Her post-fight actions weren’t.” Her eyes flicked to Neji. “Post-fight actions say a lot about a person. What you do once you’ve won shows who you are, just as much as when you lose.” The medics arrived with a backboard and Miho stepped back with Team Gai’s members, watching as Tenten was gently placed on the board and carried away. “Lee, stop glaring at them.”

“You’re not a member of this team, loser.”

Miho rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, letting out a breath. Because really. She could remember, from the Images, that Neji was often associated with a bird. At the moment, she wondered if that bird was really a cockatoo. After all, he seemed to repeat the same phrases a lot and in a really annoying voice to boot.

If things went according to the Images, Neji would soon learn better. 

Naruto would knock some sense into him.

“You guys wanna get off the floor? Seriously. Troublesome.” Shikamaru gestured toward the screen with a nod. Miho huffed, watching as Neji returned to the platform and Lee stared after Tenten as she disappeared with the medics.

Miho pressed a hand to his shoulder and jerked her head upward. Turning back to Shikamaru, Miho couldn’t help but to grin at his casual stance. “Good luck, Shikamaru. You can do it.”

“That’s right, Shikamaru! You can do it!” Ino called down. There was a threatening edge to her tone. As if she’d destroy him herself if he somehow screwed it up. “Kick her ass!”

“Right, right. You two are so loud. I can’t hear anymore. Geez.” He raised a hand and scratched his ear, clicking his tongue. Miho saw the implication in his eyes and her grin became a bit more…real. He’d stuck something in his ears. “Hurry up already.”

Shikamaru turned away, yawning.

“And I want one of the cranberry cookies.”

Genma was pretty sure that everything he saw in Miho’s mental comic book was just screwed to hell. Pretty sure. Like, 95.7% sure. Well, the stuff that was contemporary. The future stuff he wasn’t so certain about. That’d take time to figure.

Honestly, Genma had never been a gambler. Hated the risk. Hated anything less than a sure bet. He knew he was no match for a Sannin, no matter how much conviction he had. And he had conviction alright. That damn traitor made a friend’s life a living hell and then went on to massacre innocents. Still, Genma wasn’t a match for him.

Hell, Kakashi wasn’t even a match for that Snake Bastard and Kakashi, though Genma loathed to admit it, was a Tier 1 Badass.

But, yeah, Miho’s mental comic book just got a serious rewrite.

Somewhere, off in the Forest of Death, the Hokage and a platoon of ANBU were battling the Snake Sannin. Those four guards that Orochimaru had in the Visions? Not there. There was no Suna and Oto invasion drawing the Hokage’s attention away. And the Hokage had a whole slew of powerful shinobi on his side.

And, after alerting the Hokage to the situation and chasing the Sannin out to safer, more destroyable territory, Genma fell back to guard the kids.

His attention flickered over to the Hokage’s clone as it serenely watched as the Nara kid summarily beat the Oto girl. In a shorter time than the mental comic book, too. The kids cheered. Miho passed him a cookie. Team Ten looked damn near smug.

And Asuma, who was sporting all of the grandeur of being clotheslined by a legendary ninja, looked proud – if a bit dumbfounded. After all, his very weird team was doing very good in this tournament.

Kakashi’s clone was doing a half-assed job at seeming real. Anyone with half a sense could tell he was fake, standing behind his kids smiling like the bland lark he was. Maintaining a sense of normalcy was absolutely imperative. Especially with foreign forces present. Orochimaru was an in-house issue, so to speak, even if he was cavorting with Suna’s illusions of grandeur.

It was Baki that Genma was tailing, really. Guarding the kids was an excuse. A good excuse, but an excuse. In Miho’s Mental Comic Book, which was now the nickname he decided, Genma saw Baki cut Hayate down. It’d been a flash, but it was there.

And that just wasn’t gonna happen.

“Chubs, is what he said true?”

Naruto was in the middle of a heated battle with Kiba and was forcing himself to stand, one hand holding his wounded shoulder. Miho was stock still. Her shoulders were tensed and she jumped when Tetsuya’s hand fell on her shoulder.

“It’s true.”

“— you don’t know what that’s like. But I have friends who believe in me! I have friends that I’m not gonna let down or disappoint. Friends that are there! And I’m not letting you win because I never give up! That’s my Ninja Way! I’m gonna be Hokage! Believe it!”

Genma knew the result of the match, now, but it was entertaining nonetheless. That Inuzuka kid was getting the beatdown he deserved. That was enough to get Genma to take a couple steps from the wall to watch the little brat get pummeled.

“Try not to look like you’re enjoying this, Shiranui.”

“I’m enjoying every second, Sarutobi.”

Asuma rolled his eyes and Genma resisted clapping when the Inuzuka took a final kick. Miho didn’t have the same sort of control. And she never would, he suspected. She applauded, loudly whooping for the grinning blond below, who beamed up at the platform as if he’d just won the whole exam.

Which, now, wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility.

“I’m so proud of you, Naruto!”

Miho embraced him like he was the most precious person in the world. To her, outside of her brother, that very well may have been the case. Ignorant though he was of Miho’s knowledge, Naruto was her center. For her, the entire world revolved around him. The center of all the constellations she’d drawn in her mind. And Genma had seen those constellations. Millions of tiny stars-- memories, bits of knowledge, people, places, histories, stories-- connected in a wildly complex map. 

Miho thought in connections. 

In relations. 

It was a dangerous way for a ninja to think. 

It was either going to get her killed or save her life, Genma was sure of it. 

He just had to make sure she was prepared for whenever the former was a possibility. 

“You’ll do even better in your next match! I’m sure of it.”

Genma barely contained a laugh. Of course, she was sure of it. She’d seen it.

An ANBU—Cat, who was probably miffed at being given messenger duty— appeared in the southeastern most corner of the arena space and Genma glanced up, reading the hand signals. Asuma and Kakashi did the same. 

Enemy. Retreat. No pursuit.

Sighing, Genma reached up and pressed a hand to his forehead. So the Hokage chose not to pursue Orochimaru. Again. Once was a fluke. Twice was a coincidence. Three times was a pattern. Lord Third was a sentimental man, despite his incredible experience and knowledge. He would never take the steps needed to end Orochimaru until the world was ending around him. And even then, it would be a last resort that would cost his life.

Genma consciously did not look to Team Ten.

He wasn't blind or foolish. They were right not to trust Sarutobi Hiruzen with the information they possessed.

Hokage?

Safe. Normal. Situation stable.

The ANBU disappeared as the next match was announced. He dropped his eyes to the screen.

Genma felt his breath catch as he stared at the names. His attention flew to Miho, who staggered back as if she’d been struck. Tetsuya caught her arm while Koji moved to stand behind her, hiding her moment of weakness from view. Genma moved forward, settling himself directly behind his team, fortifying them as they cared for her. Miho was not someone who showed weakness easily or carelessly.

So many changes…Their impact had to be felt somewhere.

It seemed this was the price.

The was the beginning of the cascade.

Akimichi Chōji gathered himself up, putting away his bag of chips as he jumped down into the arena. He landed easily for a boy his size, squaring his feet below his shoulders in the traditional Akimichi way. He tugged at the red scarf that sat around his shoulders. Though he couldn’t see the kid’s face, he could imagine the same determined look that often overtook Miho’s— jaw set, eyes narrowed. The famous Akimichi glare. The glare that was well-known by Iwa and Kumo shinobi alike. Kid wasn’t messing around.

In the opponent’s spot, a swirl of sand materialized the red-headed kid from Suna.

Gaara.

Genma grabbed the back of Miho’s yukata. Keeping her from jumping into the fray was Priority #1 among about five or six new priorities. His student would absolutely throw herself in front of a "currently-homicidal" maniac if it meant saving her brother. No matter how much his student's past life respected the future Gaara. (And she did, quite obviously.) This one would have no issue with killing her brother or her. 

Genma was really starting to feel older than his age.

Did any of the other teachers feel old like this?

Her brother’s teammates were quiet. They knew this was as good as a death sentence. Even without knowing what the kid did to Rock Lee in the Mental Comic Book. They stared down at their teammate with wide eyes. Hell, Chōji knew this was as good as a death sentence. So, what in the hell was he doing down there squaring up to a jinchūriki? Some sort of performative master class in masochism? Genma shot Asuma a look.

You gonna stop your wayward student?

Asuma shrugged as if to say ‘It’s not my call.’

It sure as hell was his call. If one of Genma's students was facing a threat like that, they'd be out of that arena. Genma gritted his teeth and stayed silent, reaffirming his grip on Miho. She didn’t move.

The silence in the air felt physical, given material form. It laid over the skin like a film, film of cool stale air. Like death. Genma could’ve sworn he felt sand brush over his face.

“Chōji—” Miho started forward and Genma jerked her back. The boys grabbed each of her arms. Though, if she were determined, she could throw both of the boys off. Her brother turned to look at her, conflict appearing briefly on his face. Part of that conflict took the form of shame.

So, he did realize what a stupid idea this was. Good.

His eyes cut over to the Nara, who glanced to Miho before minutely shaking his head.

Again, conflict on the Akimichi heir’s face. His sister’s grip on the railing was so forceful that the metal whined and snapped in her palm. Genma— feeling older than ever before— had only ever seen one other person snap metal like that.

Seeming to deflate, Chōji’s shoulders rounded and he turned to Hayate, raising a hand.

“I withdraw.”

“You what?”

Gaara’s tone was harsh, unforgiving. Angry. Chōji met his eyes, not backing down while backing down. It was honestly impressive. To face that kind of danger, to read the circumstances, to know the possible consequences, and to still take the loss, it was a wise move. Genma knew it would never result in a promotion, but it would certainly get the kid noticed. The Akimichi might get some grief over it, but—

“I forfeit.” Chōji leaned forward in a formal bow. A formal clan bow. His arm crossed over his chest as he moved. “I, Akimichi Chōji, withdraw from the Chūnin Exams.” He lifted his head, looked to Hayate, and turned to make his way back up to the platform.

Naruto was loudly complaining, waving his hands in the air about how the Akimichi was making a stupid call and how “Bushy Brows” could’ve taken him. "C'mon! Why the heck are you withdrawin', Chōji? You can take that guy! He's half your size!" Genma could feel Miho tensing, the muscles in her shoulders coiling.

The Suna kid didn’t move.

But Genma could sense it coming. He could feel it in the air, like a rain of kunai. It might’ve been his nerves, knowing that Orochimaru had escaped and that the Hokage still had not returned to the arena. Or the onslaught of world-ending chaos that Aoba unleashed on him just after dawn. Or the fact that his student was living with memories of a past life. Or that the arena was teetering on the edge of a massacre.

Under his hand, Miho shifted, no doubt reading the red-head’s expressions.

Someone yelled out.

The sand moved.

Chōji’s back was turned.

Miho moved, too. Fast. Genma thought his grip would be enough, but it wasn’t. The fabric tore. The rough fabric pulled around his fingers as she threw her teammates’ hands off and launched herself over the railing— landing between the sand and her brother. Her speed was impressive, given how the quick the sand was moving. He watched as her body expanded, forming a shield for her brother. The sand sharpened as it moved.

Genma knew he couldn’t get there in time.

His student braced against it, arms crossed over her face and head. He could see small lacerations on her enlarged arms and cheeks. Blood just under the swirls. The sand withdrew as if in shock, coiling and spinning and hissing around the arena. It lashed and twisted.

Gaara’s eyes widened.

“What’re you—"

"Not my brother."

Hayate, Baki, Gai, and Lee were all between the Suna kid and the Akimichis in the blink of an eye. Genma grabbed Tetsuya’s arm, jerking him back. Koji grabbed the other arm so that Genma could release and move forward. Lee was positioned the closest to Miho— very much primed for combat. The green homage was itching for a fight and, it seemed, he was determined for that opponent to be Gaara. He was glaring down the kid as if he’d committed the worst crime.

Considering honor codes, he had.

Hayate raised an open palm, gesturing toward Gaara as Miho deflated to her normal size. She let out a breath.

That move would've consumed her reserves. 

She was probably running on fumes. Expansion jutsus like that were calorie-eating monsters for Akimichi. 

Genma launched over the rail and landed next to her.

“If another infraction occurs, you will be disqualified. This is a warning.” Hayate levelly chastised the Suna representatives. Genma patted Tetsuya and Koji’s shoulders before jumping down to Miho’s side. Naruto was yelling, restrained by Kakashi's clone. “The withdrawal stands. Gaara of Suna will fight in a pigtail before the conclusion of today’s qualifying rounds. The next round is a bye.”

“Pigtail?”

"A bye?"

“He will fight the winner of the next match. Kusa's team has now withdrawn.”

Genma stared at Hayate, brow drawing together. Kusa withdrew? Why?

“How dare you attack someone when their back is turned?” Lee challenged, angrily stepping forward. Miho, quick as lightning, grabbed his arm. “How dare you?”

Gaara seemed to ignore Lee’s barely-bridled rage, instead focusing on Miho’s stare. She had that same look— the same Akimichi glare that Chōji wore just minutes before, the same that she used to face the Hokage. Her shoulders were still squared and, despite it being absolutely stupid, she wasn’t about to back down.

Genma wanted to curse.

Easing her stance, she grabbed Lee’s hand and turned to her brother. Something silent passed between them before they started toward the stairs, Miho dragging a reluctant Lee to her side as she moved. As they made their escape, Lee’s focus shifted to fussing at her injuries.

"My dearest friend, my heart of hearts- I am appalled that you were injured in the defense of your brother! I swear that I will avenge your injury. I will!" 

Miho smiled at him, patting his arm. "Lee, it's okay. Honestly." 

"It's not. You always downplay when you are hurt." 

“Might as well stay down here, Lee.” Gai called, gesturing toward the screen with a grin. A grin because he didn't know what was coming. If he did, Genma knew, Gai would never smile so brightly. He'd bundle up his student and protect him from the hurt that was coming for him. “You’re up.”

Miho tripped, barely catching herself on the stairs.

The winner of this fight would face Gaara.

Lee would face Gaara.

Nothing was avoided.

Gaara remained on the floor, glaring up at where Miho and Chōji appeared up on the platform. They paid him no attention, weathering Naruto’s yelling and Ino’s chastising and Shikamaru’s deadpan stare. Genma sighed, feeling way, way older than his age as he shushined back up to the platform, catching Miho's attention. 

He'd seen that look before. On battlefields. When the defenses fell and the enemy was approaching. 

She looked back down at the arena, shaking off Koji's hand from her bleeding arm. Naruto came to her other side. 

"You're bleeding, Miho." 

"It doesn't matter. I'm okay." Miho kept staring down into the arena, never once taking her eyes off Lee. "It's okay." 

Genma looked down just in time to see the Suna kid look away from his student, toward Lee and his fighting stance. Lee and his determined smirk. Lee and all of his determination. Lee and his unbroken body. Lee, who winked up at Miho and Naruto with a confident smile.

Genma was pretty sure that everything he saw in Miho’s Mental Comic Book was just screwed to hell.

Pretty damn sure. Like, 94.7% sure.

Chapter Text

Chōji was overeating. It was going to make him sick. It was going to have consequences. He knew those things, but it felt good. It felt good when he was full. Or fuller than full. Fuller than he should be. When the food was stacked up in his stomach and his throat ached and burned. It felt like control, given the form of brisket sizzling on a grill. It felt like power, encased in dough and steamed. It felt like strength as it melted down his tongue. Even when he was full, he could never be full. Chōji didn’t think he could ever have enough.

Miho was at the hospital again. He’d tried for days to get her to leave, but she stayed— at his bedside. She was waiting for him to wake up. Even Lee’s teacher told Miho to go home, to rest, to train, but she didn’t listen. She kept vigil, stubbornly holding Lee’s hand while eating with her other.

Chōji didn’t think she realized how trapped she looked, sitting there beside Lee.

She felt guilty.

Like it was her fault.

He knew that.

He knew that better than anybody.

Chōji stuffed another piece of meat into his mouth and frowned around it, staring blankly off into the space between his teammates. Ino was silent, rolling her shoulders as she stared at the burning meat and garlic and onions. Shikamaru was ‘asleep,’ head tilted back and eyes closed. There was something about the silence that felt heavier than the pull of his stomach.

Asuma-sensei was due at any moment, checking in on the team’s training progress. They were two weeks in to a three-week hiatus before the finals. After the preliminaries, Ino and Shikamaru approached Inoichi and Shukaku about intensive clan training.

Two-thirds of Team Ten were in the finals.

Where two of the Three went, the last would follow.

Chōji did the same.

“I heard you withdrew.” His father’s voice had been calm, easy, without judgement. Despite the worry Chōji had when he’d forfeited, no one in the family had said a thing about it. No one in the Clan shamed him. They simply handed him more food or patted his shoulder. But Chōji could read it— the disappointment. He had watched as his father sank down to sit on the en, arms folding over his broad chest.

For a moment, Chōji had wondered if he would ever be as big as his father. His father just seemed so…strong and mighty. At that moment, Chōji felt small. Smaller than he’d ever felt.

Smaller than he felt standing in front of a almost-literal demon.

It made him hungry.

“Do you want to explain your decision?”

Swallowing nothing, Chōji had felt a burn at the back of his throat. He thought about Miho, who threw herself down to shield him, who threw off her calories for days just for that jutsu she used to protect him. He hadn’t been fast enough to sense the attack, let alone react to it. He remembered the dull, half-crazed look in that kid’s— Gaara’s— eyes as he glared at his sister.

Chōji’s hands fisted on his thighs.

The way he— Gaara— looked at Miho when Lee’s legs were crushed. When his bones shattered like glass by glass. Like he wanted to see her reaction. Like he wanted to make sure she saw every gory detail.

Like he wanted her to suffer.

“He’s a jinchūriki.”

His father jolted, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Chōji wondered what might’ve been if he hadn’t known. If he’d faced Gaara none-the-wiser. Would he have been a footnote? Or would he have been kindling? “What? How do you know—”

“He…basically said it. That he ‘had a monster inside him’?” Chōji was lying, in a way. That had been said, in the Story of Miho’s mind, but it was Miho that had explained it. Explained all of Gaara’s story before the exams began. All of its horrors. Chōji swallowed. “He’s like Naruto, but…not like Naruto. What’s happened to him was…”

“Like Naruto?”

It was a baiting question, just to confirm his knowledge. Chōji knew his Pa’s tactics well-enough. After all, he was thirteen not as small and naïve as he’d once been. “He contains a tailed beast.”

His father had heaved in a great breath. “It was Miho who told you.”

“Someone called him a demon when we were six. They shouted: ‘Get out of here, demon fox!’ and they threw something at him.” He sat a little straighter. “Miho didn’t have to tell me anything.”

Only she had. She’d told him everything.

And he’d seen his father dead. And she’d been dead and— 

Pa had seemed older then, shoulders hunching over as his mighty weight sagged.

“Me choosing not to fight hurt Lee.”

Pa had turned to him, obviously battling his own reflex emotions. After a long moment, he sighed and turned back to the garden. “Yes, Lee was hurt because you chose not to fight. All of our actions have consequences.” Chōji nodded then, knowing what his father was trying to teach him.

Lee would’ve been hurt regardless. Probably.

But it could’ve been him instead.

He chose not to get hurt. To withdraw, to change nothing.

He pushed himself off the en and sank down to one knee, bowing his head to his father and Clan Head. In that position, the fat of his stomach kept him from bending too far forward. It hurt. He was just so hungry. But that hunger felt a lot like fear. And anger. And guilt. That hunger reached his hands and feet. It coursed.

“I, Akimichi Chōji, the Sixteenth Head of the Akimichi Clan, request intensive training from you, the Fifteenth Head of the Akimichi Clan.” He lifted his head and tried not to acknowledge the tears on his cheeks. They felt heavy. “I don’t want to forfeit like that again. Even if it’s against a jinchūriki.”

Chōji could smell the smoke before Asuma arrived, no cigarette in sight. The smell just seemed to cling to him. Like some sort of cloak. The man fell into the bench next to him, throwing an arm over the back.

“You guys okay?”

“No.” Shikamaru said flatly.

Ino pressed a hand to her temple. “Not so loud.”

Even with his eyes closed, not seeing the grimace on her face, Shikamaru grinned. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ with such force that Ino visibly shuddered. Chōji couldn’t imagine how she was coping with the intensive mental training that was required of the Yamanaka. It was a wonder she was conscious.

“You’re being vindictive today.”

“He’s the most vindictive among us,” Chōji commented around a piece of meat. Shikamaru didn’t deny it.

“Chōji, how’s clan training coming?” Asuma jumped in, trying to curb a waste-of-time conversation. “Chōza was just deployed for a mission today, wasn’t he?”

Chōji shook his head. “Business trip to the capital. I’ve upped my caloric intake by 5,000. We’re doubling again next week.” He’d be ready by then. It would be fine.

Shikamaru’s head rose from where it was uncomfortably leant back against the bench seat. “Say what? Upping by 10,000 in two weeks. Is that clan-sanctioned?”

In his head, Chōji cursed. Sometimes, he really hated that his best friend was a genius. Shikamaru had near perfect recall, which meant that he could remember the limitations of calorie-loading when Chōji ranted about it in the past. Chōji held his stare before shrugging, fishing a piece of chicken from the grill. It was a non-answer.

“Yeah.” Ino’s brows scrunched together. “They had Miho on a six-week 10,000 increase when we were ten, remember? Had to spread it out.”

He forgot about that. He forgot that they would remember that.

Chōji shrugged again but didn’t answer. Instead, he changed the subject. “Miho’s still at the hospital.”

The look they both sent him was scathing in its dullness. It was the same stare, as if questioning whether or not he thought they were stupid. He just stuffed another piece of meat in his mouth and tried to focus on the marinade. Soy and brown sugar and tomatoes? Next to him, Asuma shifted. And really, Chōji couldn’t blame him. He was seeing the full brunt of Shikamaru and Ino’s disapproval. They weren’t going to give in so easily, so Chōji reached for a piece of pork.

His chopsticks were met by another pair of chopsticks.

Shocked, he looked up to see Ino’s stare.

“You’re overdoing it.” He frowned, irritated at her interruption. No one came between an Akimichi and their food. No one. “Stop, Ino.”

“I’m overdoing it? You’re the one who’s overdoing it! You think we haven’t noticed? If you keep this up, you’ll kill yourself from eating and then who’s gonna protect Miho? Then who’s gonna—”

Chōji slapped her chopsticks out of the way, grabbing the piece of pork. She scoffed, slamming the chopsticks to the table and sitting back in her seat, crossing her arms. She shot Shikamaru a glare as Chōji held up the meat with a mocking scowl, trying to reign in his anger.

“I have to eat, Ino. Just knock it off and let me make my own decisions.”

“I never said—”

“You’ll end up in the hospital at this rate. That’s fine. It means I’ll visit multiple people in one go.” The less work for me was in Shikamaru’s tone. Chōji tried not to grimace as the pork turned to rubber in his mouth as he chewed. Shikamaru’s stare moved to Asuma, who’d been watching the whole exchange with something like exasperation.

“It’s dull but I’m making progress.”

Asuma nodded warily, obviously unsure what to make of the atmosphere at the table.

Chōji shoveled some rice into his mouth and felt a kunai stab the back of his throat. Without thinking, he swallowed down the rice and felt it gurgle. A sharp pain pierced his chest, just above his heart. Then, another. He gasped, swallowing again to try to get the bits of rice down. Chōji could hear Ino asking him questions and Shikamaru’s concern.

But it hurt.

It hurt so much.

Was this what it felt like?

Did anything compare?

Miho— the her there— she was so hurt and scared then. When the winds came for her. And then when the— And Lee’s bones shattering. Crack.

“— hospital.”

“No! No, I don’t need to go to the hos—” The pain made him stop talking as he doubled-over. Nothing seemed to help. He gasped. No movement or pressure. Chōji wanted to cry. He was stronger than this. He had to be stronger than this. It was only a stomach ache. It’d pass. He gasped in another breath and held it. It’d pass.

“Alright. That’s enough. We’re going to the hospital.”

The room was darkened, drapes pulled together over the midday light. Miho stared at the sunbeams that somehow made it through the curtains, scattering on a glass of water that sat on the beside table. Shifting in her chair, she settled down further and leaned her head back into the cushion. On the bed, Lee didn’t move. He never did. It seemed so much longer than it had before, then and there. Lee had been unconscious for a lifetime, Miho was sure. That’s why it seemed so dark, even with the sun fighting its way through.

“Sunflower, you need to go home. Get some rest and eat. Train.”

Gai-sensei was on the other side of the bed, holding tightly to Lee’s hand. Miho glanced up at him, trying not to be frustrated by the nickname. He and Lee called her that every so often, “a sunflower with good senses.” Her ‘good sense’ hadn’t led to anything good. It led to Lee in the same hospital bed, with worse injuries than before. Two shattered legs, squeezed to a pulp. Not an arm and a leg. And two weeks of unconsciousness from the trauma.

She wasn’t a “sunflower with good senses.”

She was kudzu.

She choked the life out of things.

“I’m not leaving, Gai-sensei. Besides, I brought things to read.”

She held up the scroll, a bear etching clear on the back.

“Okuda techniques need space. You cannot practice them inside.”

Miho sighed, shaking her head. “I’m learning the theory first.” And she’d been learning the theory for two weeks, with almost every waking hour. Every hour spent by Lee’s bed, she’d spent studying the theory of Okuda techniques. It wasn’t making any more sense than it had when she’d first opened the scrolls.

Gai-sensei was quiet, not responding for the longest time.

She wondered if he didn’t like the air as much as she did. The air in the hospital was too cold and too humid, too much like what she imagined a morgue to feel like. It stuck to her skin, to her arms and legs. It’d been days since she’d last taken a shower. She figured the air of the hospital was clinging to her like a second skin.

“Your brother was admitted an hour ago.”

She shot to her feet. They tingled and felt hot in her sandals. “He what?”

Gai-sensei stared at her, eyes hardening. “You cannot protect everyone, Miho. Sometimes, the injuries that others suffer are theirs alone. You cannot control them and you cannot stop them.” She stilled, feeling oddly disconnected. She didn’t feel anything except how hot her feet felt.

Maybe she’d been at Lee’s bedside for too long.

“Uzumaki Naruto is in the hospital as well. He was admitted two hours ago.”

Miho did feel her heart stop. But then, had it been beating in the first place? She wasn’t sure. She wasn't sure until she felt it thrum in her chest. Her hands were tingling as she set the scroll on the table by Lee’s head. He didn’t move.

Gai-sensei moved around the bed to rest a heavy hand on her shoulder. Whenever the man was somber and level, he almost seemed regal. Miho noticed that so many years ago, when he'd given her the weights. When he'd told her of the honor she carried with her, in those weights. He was so incredibly strong that it was almost hard to grasp. She let her shoulders sag, turning to look up to him.

“I will stay with Lee for a while. Go visit your brothers. Go home and eat, rest, and train. Lee will be fine. He’ll be safe.”

But Gai didn’t know.

He didn’t know that Gaara was coming for him, was coming for Lee’s blood.

Miho felt mechanical. A mechanical being in a bodysuit with a hospital film around her body like a shroud. She nodded.

What else could she do? It was Chōji. It was Naruto.

Careful not to jostle the bed, she leant down to grasp Lee’s still hand and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to check on Chōji and Naruto, Lee. I’ll be back before you know it.” She squeezed his hand and stepped back, tilting her head back to keep the tears at bay. “Gai-sensei, please protect him.”

“Of course. Miho, he will not come to harm here.”

She nodded again, but her head swam as she moved.

The hospital halls felt foreign, empty and desolate. She’d never wondered why the extended-stay portion of the hospital was so deserted, but it was with the frightening realization that it was a place of lost hope. Only a few patients survived languishing in the hospital. Ever since Lady Tsunade left, mortality rates had increased. She'd seen the numbers in the archives.

The thought made her sick.

Lee was in the Death Corridor, even if he wasn’t terminal.

“Room 211,” the nurse drawled. She didn’t even look up from the file she was examining. “And don’t let him eat anything.”

Room 211 was around the corner and down the hall. She’d been in the neighboring room a couple times— heat exhaustion at the Academy marathon, a sprained wrist, a fractured ankle. It was the short-stay portion of the hospital, and it somehow felt livelier.

When she slid the door open, she felt something sharp pierce her stomach.

Ino was standing on the other side of Chōji’s bed, back to him as she held her shaking hands aloft, in the signature style of the Yamanaka. Near the window, Gaara was holding his head. His sand lashed and twisted and cut around the room, slashing at the walls. Chōji was up on his knees in the bed, eyes impossibly wide and frightened. His head turned and he held his arm out.

A fruit basket was scattered on the floor.

“Stay back, Miho!”

Ino felt to one knee and Miho darted forward to catch her as she collapsed, pushing the fear to the back of her mind as Gaara came back to consciousness. Chōji shifted, moving to Ino’s other side from the bed. The sand withdrew to linger behind Gaara at the window, dull eyes moving to stare at the new presence. Miho shifted Ino in her arms and stared back him, unwavering.

It was like staring at a tornado from only a few feet away.

“This is a hospital. Unless you’re hurt or visiting, leave.”

“I’ll kill you.” Gaara responded, sand settling a bit behind him. “I’ll kill her, for getting in my head. I’ll kill him and that other weird kid, too.” As if he was commenting on the weather. It’d been what she’d anticipated for weeks. “I’ll kill you all.”

Weeks of sitting at Lee’s beside, waiting. Knowing that he would arrive. 

Seeing it, over and over, in her mind.

The sand coursing over Lee’s body, over the bedsheets.

But Naruto and Shikamaru and this was wrong.

Miho nodded, forcing her body not to quiver. “Yeah, I know you want to, and I know you could.”

He’s a monster right now, Miho. Don’t tempt him. Ino’s voice ricocheted in her head, bouncing around like the cold air in a hospital room. Miho shivered. She sounded so weak. So weak from dealing with all of this. All of the terror and pressure and fear and Miho hadn’t been there. She’d been hiding, by Lee’s side, and calling it ‘friendship.’ He’s going after Lee next. Wanted to finish off Chōji first.

Miho shifted Ino’s weight to Chōji and met his eyes for the briefest moment before standing, positioning herself in front of both. Her legs weren’t nearly meaty enough to hide them or shield them from view. She wished they were. She wished she was big enough. 

“Why do you want to kill us?”

He didn’t react to the question, the sand lapping at his heels. She waited, knowing that the next few minutes, the next few words, would mean life or death. Gai-sensei had been there before, to 'scare' Gaara away. That wouldn’t be the case here, would it?

He wanted to feel something. He needed to feel something. That’s what all this was about.

“Killing you will make her happy. Then, I can feel.”

You’d thinking killing people would make them like you! But it doesn’t! It just makes people dead. Miho flinched at the grating voice in her head. She shoved it out and away, like always. Something from then and there. Her eyes narrowed as Gaara’s left hand twitched at his side.

Miho nodded. She couldn’t tell whether or not the response made him pause or not. She was waiting for someone, anyone to show up. Surely Asuma-sensei would visit his own languishing student. Damn it.

Sometimes, she felt like that when she ate. Like she could feel.

It was a poor transitive, but it was all she had.

Nevermind the fact that she was trying to relate to a boy who endured so much.

I want to be a real boy.

She could never understand.

Maybe it was better to just say that up front. Maybe it was better to be honest.

“I don’t know how you feel. I can't, but I don’t think killing us will make you feel anything. Not really. It’ll make you feel powerful for a bit. And then, it’ll just feel…empty again.” She felt Ino’s hand on her ankle, thin fingers wrapping around her leg guard. A warning. Gaara’s attention flickered down to the contact, ridges where his brows should be drawing together.

Miho’s tensed.

Asuma-sensei and Genma-sensei are coming. Keep him steady.

Ino had already strained herself too much. She’d called for help, using a skill she wasn’t meant to develop for years. How did she— Miho felt Chōji rise up next to her, angling his body slightly in front of hers.

“Your father was a poor example of a father. He should’ve never done any of that to you. You shouldn’t have been made to suffer, to feel worthless. Or to feel nothing, to save yourself.” Miho instinctively grabbed Chōji’s arm when he stepped forward. Fear lurched in her stomach. He was saying too much, too much that he shouldn’t know.

The Chōji that turned to her was a different one from a few weeks ago.

He stepped fully in front of her, moving his feet shoulder-width apart.

“I’m sorry that your village and family treated you that way. They shouldn’t’ve. It wasn’t right. It’s not right. You deserved better.”

He had to know that Gaara could kill all three of them without effort. All it would take would be a small bit of sand, a wave of his hand. He was that powerful. Still, Chōji blocked her and blocked Ino. A penetrable wall. A penetrable wall that was trying to reach Gaara.

"You deserved a chance."

Gaara stared before wincing, eyes going wide. His hands went to his head. Miho’s grip tightened on Chōji’s arm. Shukaku was talking to him, yelling at him. Telling him all the ways he was worthless or shrieking for their death. Shrieking for their blood. Shukaku was taking advantage.

“Don’t listen to it, Gaara. It’s not who you think it is.”

The sand lashed and rose up behind him, blocking out the midday light like a glass curtain. Miho felt disconnected, like the hospital was some kind of weird in-between space. And in that strange in-between world, she could do nothing to stop Gaara. It seemed all of this was a nightmare. A waking one, in the wrong room. She angled a bit, feeling Ino and Chōji tense.

“Good to see all you kids gettin’ to know each other.”

She jolted, looking toward the door where Genma-sensei stood with Asuma-sensei at his shoulder. His hands were tucked into his pockets and he lazily rolled the senbon to the corner of his lips. Miho didn’t ease her stance, muscles still tensed and primed to move.

“Kid, if you really wanna get to know two Akimichi, you gotta take ‘em out to lunch or dinner or breakfast. Heck, give ‘em a snack. Otherwise, you really don’t have their attention.” Genma shifted and she could feel the energy of the room accommodate him somehow. The air felt more breathable, like it had actual substance. Her teacher was there. It would be alright. It would be okay. “Best get on your way if you don't have snacks, kid.”

“Yeah, I bet your team is wonderin’ where you got off to.” Asuma’s threat was clear.

The sand lashed around and then died down, filtering back into the gourd on Gaara’s back. His expression didn’t change, but she could still sense the grudging, seething anger. His shoulders shrugged a bit before he turned on his heel, moving toward the door. Genma-sensei and Asuma-sensei moved further into the room as Gaara passed them.  

Miho watched as he angled himself at the door, casting his eyes to Chōji first and then to her. She met them, and cringed. “You have the same eyes as I do...” Softer eyes superimposed on cold, hate-filled emptiness. Eyes that saw hurt and pain and so much loneliness, but who found solace. She remembered. She remembered that. Him. She kept that memory, somehow.

“I will kill you.”

He was gone.

He wasn’t done, she knew. He’d go for Lee next. As soon as his presence disappeared from the door, Miho turned and ran to Asuma, stumbling when her hip struck the bed. She caught herself and righted, grabbing at his arm. “He’ll go for Lee next.”

“You can’t kn—”

“You good, Miho?”

Miho nodded, looking to Genma-sensei as he jerked his head toward the door. “Gai-sensei is there. Probably Naruto and Shikamaru too, but—”

“We’ll go check it out, Miho. Settle down.” Her teacher’s expression was nothing to be trifled with as he shifted the senbon between his teeth. “Then, you and me’ll have a long talk about squaring up to a jinchūriki a second time. Please, for the sake of my hair, don’t go for a hat trick. I'm beggin' you.”

Miho shifted her weight from one leg to the other, glancing toward the door.

“Alright, alright. And then, just to top it all off Little Lady, we’ll talk about healthy coping mechanisms.”

She flinched as he disappeared, Asuma right behind him, with a rather perplexed look on his face. Miho felt the nerves in her veins and stomach settle a bit. Genma-sensei and Asuma-sensei and Gai-sensei, they’d all protect Lee. Gai-sensei was enough there and then. They’d protect Naruto and Shikamaru, too.

It would be fine.

What she’d been waiting for…It’d be fine.

It’d be fine.

“Speaking of healthy coping mechanisms: your brother ate himself into the hospital, in case you were wondering.” Ino grounded out from where she’d sat heavily on the edge of the bed. She waved her hand, using the other to brush her short hair from her face. With a huff, she shot Chōji a scathing glare. “He upped his calorie count by 10,000.”

Miho felt chills down her spine when she looked at her brother, whose arms were crossed across his slightly broader chest. He was staring at a random off-pattern spot on the linoleum. She knew this mannerism. He was angry. Angry at Ino? Or... “Ten thousand?”

Chōji didn’t look at her. “It’s part of my training.” He squeezed his eyes shut before gesturing unseeingly at Ino. “Besides, she’s guilty too. She’s got a migraine, but she’s not saying anything.”

“That’s because I can deal with it! You’re overtaxing your body.”

“And you’re not?” Chōji spun around, hands going to his hips. Miho could’ve sworn she’d seen a flash of her father in that movement. “You think that me and Shikamaru don’t know? You’ve been overdoing it too. We’re all overdoing it! Shikamaru’s actually sleeping at meetings. He never actually sleeps at those things.” He then turned to Miho, meeting her eyes. Miho tried not to flinch when he pointed at her. “And you have too.”

“I have—”

“Don’t say that you haven’t. It’s been two weeks. You leave the hospital for missions. That’s it. You’re never at home. You’re not training. You’re not eating like you should, only barely meeting your calorie counts. You think this is what Lee would want?! You think Lee would be proud of this?!”

Miho recoiled. Chōji never yelled. He never raised his voice.

“And the rest of us? We’re trying! We’re trying to avoid what we know is coming! None of it is going to change unless we change it. Miho—” He stopped, hands dropping to his sides as they clenched into fists. Miho stayed as still as she could manage, but she was shaking. “You feel guilty for what happened to Lee. Fine. I do, too. But really, Miho, you’ve been hiding.”

“Chōji—” Ino started, pushing herself up to stand.

“You’ve been hiding, Miho. From all of it. From us. From them. From everything.”

“I haven’t—”

“You have. Hiding behind your guilt for what happened to Lee, what could happen, what might be coming! Miho, stop. I’m begging you. Stop.” Chōji lowered his head again. This time, he shook it. “I wasn’t strong enough before. None of us were. But we will be. I’ll be so powerful that I can move mountains. I’ll be so strong that I can force reality to change.” Miho watched as her brother opened his hands and stared at his palms. “Even if I have to carry every stone myself, I’ll build a bridge to a future where none of that happens.”

He dropped his hands again and looked up.

“I’ll carry you on my back if I have to. Miho, please stop hiding here. Lee wouldn’t want it. He’d want you to become so strong that you never feel powerless again. You know that. Why won’t you live it?”

Because then, when all the terrible things did happen, she would’ve had the ability— but not enough of it.

Never enough.

Because then, there would still be people she couldn’t protect.

Miho turned, pressing a hand to the wall before leaning her forehead into the cool sheetrock.

Because she was already guilty of so much.

Eventually, fate would come to collect—just as Destiny came for Lee.

Dread it. Run from it. Destiny still arrives all the same.

Her entire body twitched. She knew there was no hiding from the Story. The Story would come, regardless of what she tried. The Story would sow and reap at its will, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was like a river.

Don’t say it. Don’t you say it.

No matter how rivers are stopped, they still find a way through. They still find a path.

The Story was going to find a path.

She pressed her eyes shut.

She could still hear Lee’s screams.

A hand rested on her shoulder and she felt herself being turned into a chest. Chōji’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and she pressed her face into his shoulder. It felt as if he’d grown inches in just a few days. Maybe he had, maybe he hadn’t. But he felt bigger. More grown.

He jostled her a bit as he spoke. “Everything will be okay. It will. We’re gonna keep getting stronger, Miho. Me and you. All of us. And then, we’re going to make it right.”

Never break the-

"AHHHHH!"

Even as she nodded, she kept seeing Lee behind the lids of her eyes. As she had for weeks. The sand winding up his legs. The pressure. She could feel it around her heart. The screams. He stood, unconscious. Hand raised and waiting. He fought, regardless. He fought, against the onslaught. And Gaara was just that: an onslaught, a disaster and a slaughter given form.

The last disaster she'd faced- it killed her. 

“When I said we needed to talk about healthy coping mechanisms, this isn’t what I meant.”

Genma-sensei leaned against the tree, crossing his arms. Miho watched from where she sat, feet pressed together and hands resting on her knees in the traditional way of the Akimichi. They were on one of the Akimichi training grounds, as far away as they could get from others. Her eyes slid shut and she focused on her chakra, centered in her gut.

“The boys’ve been complainin’ for days. I had to give ‘em a bone or they’ll chew through everything.” He scoffed at his own joke and Miho felt herself smiling, imagining Koji and Tetsuya trailing after Genma-sensei like puppies. Adorable puppies. Tetsuya was the yippy one. Miho grinned to herself. “Hayate’s got a hell of a lot of patience. He’s already got Tetsuya eating out of his hand—the traitor.”

Miho’s eyes popped open.

“Hayate? Hayate Gekkō?”

Genma-sensei grinned around his senbon and nodded. “I got him trainin' Tetsuya. Full-on apprentice deal, without the apprenticeship ‘cause Tetsuya’s gotta be a chūnin for that. Soon enough though. Hayate’s one hell of a teacher.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s got patience for days. He’ll need it for Tetsuya. We’ll make a kenjutsu specialist of him yet.”

Miho waited for her teacher to come back around to how he planned to keep Hayate alive, but Genma-sensei never did. He just looked up at the fluffy white clouds overhead. She followed his line-of-sight to a particularly large white cloud in the distance. From that hill on Akimichi clan lands, you could see for miles. To the horizon over the trees.

“Meditation isn’t what I meant when I was talking about coping.”

“Seems healthy enough.” Miho sighed, still holding the pose. “Healthier than what I was doing before. Since…Lee. Chōji made me see I was—”

“Hiding? Yeah, I figured he would eventually. It kinda had to be him.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Why didn’t you— and the guys—”

“That sort of stuff takes time. Despite what they seem like most times, the boys are wiser than that. They don’t even know the extra layers here. They just knew you needed time. I know better than anyone what that’s like.” He pulled the senbon from his mouth and gestured toward the scroll by her knee right knee. “Looks like you’ve figured something out though.”

Miho reached down and opened the scroll, holding it open for him to see. He let out a low whistle, nodding his head appreciatively. Her lips pressed together and she lowered the open scroll to the grass, shifting heavily onto her knees. Her hand trailed over the symbols, over the kanji.

Her birth father’s name. Her birth mother’s name beside his.

“Did you ever meet them? The Bears? When you worked with him?”

“Sure did. Good sort. They’ve got their own ways. When you decide to do it, you need to go into it prepared to fulfill whatever they ask for.” He pushed off the tree and knelt down, taking hold of the scroll’s edge so that he could read the rough script. “The Bears are notoriously difficult to please, but they’re fiercely protective of their summoners and their own. The Okuda held their summoning scroll for nearly a thousand years. Even before the nations rose up.”

Miho’s grip on the scroll tightened before she nodded. Pulling a kunai from her side pack, she lay the blade on her thumb and pressed it into the skin. The blood ran from her thumb to her wrist, dripping onto the grass. The blood of her friends had already spilt too much.

It was time for her blood to be in the inkwell, too.

“You’re sure this is what you want to do? You don’t have to take up the Bears. You can let their scroll lie.”

Miho nodded. “I…want to. I have to try. If they decide not to let me be their summoner, then I’ll find another way to keep growing, Genma-sensei. But I don’t want to be stagnate anymore. I don’t want to be powerless again.” She chewed on her lower lip before nodding again with more finality, brushing her mass of wild black curls from her face when the wind swept them there. “I had a lot of time to think in that hospital room. Watching Lee breathe. Thinking about the things I can’t change. And the things I can.” Miho raised her bleeding hand. “I can change a lot and I can’t change a lot. But I can do my best regardless.”

She saw Genma-sensei swallow before he nodded as well, eyeing the scroll. “You wanted me here to guide you through a summoning, not to help you learn to meditate.” He let out a pathetic sigh, palming his forehead. “I must have ‘sucker’ written on my forehead.” Miho frowned, not seeing why he felt bad about this. “I’ll support you signing with the Bears.”

He gestured toward a symbol at the middle of the scroll.

“Sign your name in blood here.” He pointed the open spot just under her birth parents’ names. “Pulse your chakra into it. About a third of your chakra reserves. That should draw out the Boss, but…I don’t know what comes after that, Miho. It could be anything.”

She nodded, pressing her hand over the kanji of her scrawled name. The first Akimichi in a line of Okuda. Her chakra sank into the seal and she pressed it further, feeling it draw from her skin, her muscles, her bones. Her fat. It fell into the seal and then exploded, pushing her back onto her backside.

Out of the smoke, a large brown bear stood on its hind legs as the grey smoke dissipated. Miho didn’t scuttle away, even if she wanted to, the bear towered as tall as an oak tree. Gray hakama covered its hind legs. Its narrowed black eyes looked around to find her.

“Who are you to summon a Bear, little human?” His voice boomed, like the slow roll of thunder over and between mountains.

Miho hurried to stand, leaning forward to bow deeply before the Bear. She fortified herself as best she could. “I’m Akimichi Miho. I would like a contract with the Bears.”

The Bear rumbled a great laugh, a paw going to his rounded stomach. “The Bears know no summoners but the Okuda, who have held our scroll for a thousand years, little human.”

Miho rose up, looking up to meet the Bear’s eyes. They were sharp, but not cruel or reprimanding. She tried to find the right words, but settled for: “I am the daughter of Okuda Keisuke.”

Two forepaws landed in the grass on either side of her and the ground shook as the Bear lurched forward, its large head within inches of her. Miho held her breath as fear thrilled through her stomach. She could feel the vibrations of the Bear’s growling. She stood very still as his great snout landed on her shoulder. He heaved in a big breath and drew away, eyes settling on her face.

“Yes, Okuda Keisuke is your father. I can smell him. I can smell Chisato. Yes, little human. Our legacy of serving the Okuda and their kin lives on, indeed. But first, a name and a test and a lesson.”

The Bear settled back on his hakama-covered haunches, forepaws resting on his bended hind legs. “I am Ki, the Great Bear. I am the Thunder Bear. I am the Bear of the Center Mountain.” He gestured toward where Genma-sensei was standing. “Who is that, little human?”

“My teacher, Lord Ki, Shiranui Genma.”

The Bear made a thoughtful noise. “You wish a partnership with the Bears, Akimichi Miho. Why? We’re not a summon that lightly gives its loyalty. We do not trade. We do not barter. We do not negotiate. The Snakes trade knowledge. The Slugs trade chakra. The Toads, the Hawks, the Lizards, the Cats. Each ask for something in return for their partnership. We do not. Do you know why?”

Miho thought, trying to remember the things she read that Akimichi Chisato scribbled in her notes. But then, she thought of the old stories her father used to tell. The story about the Bear and his family and the lengths one bear went to in protection of them. The song was sung from time-to-time, a folktale about family trust and patience.

“Because you are protectors first and foremost. That’s why you’ve always worked with the Okuda. They’re— We’re considered family.”

Ki nodded. “Indeed, cub. Indeed. And we do not take kindly to interlopers.” The boss of the Bears turned to Genma-sensei and bared his teeth, raising a large paw. He went to slam it forward, to strike her teacher down. She saw Genma-sensei recoil a bit.

No, this was her fault.

Miho felt her heart jump into her throat and sped over to place herself between Lord Ki and her teacher. She was between them before his paw moved more than a few inches. Genma-sensei made an impressed sound, but otherwise didn’t move or react. He could have gotten out of the way in time. Miho held up both hands, bowing down to avert her eyes.

“Lord Ki, I did not mean to offend by having my teacher present! I’ve never attempted to summon before. I did not want to do it wrong. Please do not blame him. I apologize.”

She glanced up. The Great Bear looked down his long snout before baring his teeth in what must’ve been a smile. His growling voice sounded amused. “The Bears protect their own. Look up, cub. Look up now. Look into my eyes.”

Miho raised her head and the Great Bear lowered himself down onto all four paws. She looked up and met his eyes, feet moving shoulder-width apart and shoulder rolling back.

“You will be our summoner, Akimichi Miho.”

Before Miho could react, another bear appeared. This one was much smaller that the Great Bear Boss. Its fur was a light golden brown, like brown sugar or the crust of a cookie. It shined. The smaller bear settled onto its haunches, looking between Miho and the Great Bear for some kind of context.

“This is Shinrin. She will be your personal summon. Shinrin, this is Akimichi Miho. She is—”

“Lady Chisato’s cub.” Shinrin breathed out. “Oh, Lord Keisuke’s cub.” Running forward, the bear dragged Miho into a heavy paw-ed hug. Miho gaped and gasped at the weight, looking to the Great Bear and Genma-sensei for guidance. Neither reacted. She shouldered the weight as well as she could, holding the bear aloft.

“A strong cub, you are.” Lord Ki noted with a laugh. “To carry Shinrin’s weight unaided.”

“Oh, my Lady Miho, I was a little cub when Lady Chisato and Lord Keisuke died. I thought I should never meet their cub. They— They decorated your nursery in little bears. They said those little bears were drawings of me. Oh, my Lady Miho. I am your summon now. It is only right. I’m Shinrin, my Lady Miho. I am always going to be here for you. Always and forever.”

Miho embraced the bear back as Shinrin look her own weight again. She squeezed her eyes shut with the strength of the hug. It only seemed right. It seemed like what was natural for all the feeling that was in Shinrin’s embrace. Miho sank into the bear’s fur, loosing her balance a bit with it. Shinrin’s paws sat her upright.

“What is your goal, cub?” Miho’s attention turned to the boss summon again, who watched the exchange with tired, kind eyes. Like the eyes of a grandfather watching the younger generation learn and grow. She’d seen that expression on Elder Torifu’s face more than once. “What is it you aim to accomplish by taking up our contract?”

Miho stepped forward, out of Shinrin’s shadow. She glanced to Genma-sensei before raising her chin. He nodded encouragingly. “I want to protect the people I care about to the best of my ability and shield them from as much hurt as I can. I want to make a difference.” She rolled her shoulders and squared them. “The Bears can train their summoners as well, to make them stronger, to help them protect the clan. I want to do this. To grow stronger, to protect my own.”

The Great Boss nodded, baring his great teeth. “A worthy endeavor, cub. The Bears will help you in that goal. The Bears have many strengths, strengths you shall learn. Together, we will protect our own. Shinrin will stay with you and describe the responsibilities that come with our contract. Then she will return and you will summon her again. At that time, your training with the Bears will begin. I will learn of your strengths and your weaknesses, cub.”

The Great Bear nodded again and disappeared.

Miho looked to Shinrin, who smiled a bit sadly. She ambled up and edged at Miho’s elbow with her snout. “My Lady Miho, let us get to know each other. I will tell you all you should know. I will tell you all of our stories. I will tell you stories of Lord Keisuke and Lady Chisato. I will tell you lots.” Looking to where Genma-sensei stood, she watched as he raised his hands and grinned. “This is your teacher?”

“Shiranui Genma. It’s nice to meet you, Shinrin. Please take good care of my student.”

“I’ll take good care of you both, as well as anyone else my Lady Miho considers ‘hers’.” The bear’s voice was soft and sweet, like honey. There was a hard edge there, too. Like the points of her incisors biting into every word. “And I’ll rip out the throats of those that harm hers. I’d like very much to bite the throat of the masked one that killed Lord Keisuke.”

The bear fell to all fours, baring her teeth as if a ghost stood under the nearby trees.

“One that…” Genma-sensei’s eyes widened.

Miho fisted her hands at her sides, turning to the bear. “Shinrin…Who--Who are you talking about? What 'masked one'?”

Chapter Text

The plan was simple.

The plan just got complicated.

And Yamashiro Aoba needed a drink.

As best they could tell, the Hokage’s previous fight with Orochimaru didn’t curb the upcoming invasion. Which meant that they needed hard evidence and/or irrefutable testimony that an invasion was coming. Something to take to the Hokage. Something to kick countermeasures into gear.

From Miho’s memories (or visions, or whatever it could be called that lingered in the girl’s head), it was Gekkō that found that evidence, that testimony. It was Gekkō that had the key to stopping the invasion.

Then, he was killed.

So, this plan avoided that situation altogether.

It’d work and, maybe just maybe, it’d keep Gekkō alive long enough to see his wedding day.

After all, Aoba already had a down payment on the party room above the Twisted Shuriken for the stag party. That was non-refundable. Organizing so many different schedules in even getting that date settled was an absolute pain. Hell, getting Gekkō to even go for a drink was a pain. No way was Aoba gonna let him get out of it.

But, as good as the plan was, really, Genma was a shit actor.

Aoba just barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands as Genma dramatically fell into jōnin command, grasping at his shredded flak jacket. His trademark senbon was missing, along with a pretty large chunk of meat from his right thigh. As the on-duty jōnin hopped up to help their bleeding comrade, Aoba shot out of his chair.

He’d give Genma this much: he committed.

He hadn’t anticipated that much damage. Hell, how much did he pay his summons?

“Commander!” He turned on his heel, with as close to a convincing expression as he could manage to get. Shock, concern. “We’ve got a problem!”

“Suna…Suna…” Genma wheezed, collapsing to his knees with a grunt. “Those Suna bastards…”

His expression was controlled, but he was affecting a bit of worry and fear in his eyes. True Genma characterization, there. Just underneath the surface. Aoba flinched, trying not to roll his eyes. Thank Kami and all the good and wonderful things in the world he decided to wear sunglasses as a trademark. Otherwise, they’d be screwed.

As if they weren’t already.

Nara Shikaku appeared at the head of the large assembly room, flickering down to Genma’s side. Genma— for his part— sold it with a particularly pained yelp as he was lowered to the floor by a fretting Raidō. And Raidō was normally a pretty cool guy, being a top-notch assassin. Apparently Genma’s little show was hitting a trigger.

It was with a sick sort of feeling that Aoba remembered that it was Raidō that found his team captain eviscerated during the Third Shinobi War. From what he could remember, the gouge was in a similar location to Genma’s wound. Died from blood loss.

Genma reached for Shikaku’s forearm, grasping it. With desperation. His making physical contact must’ve punctuated something to the Nara because his features became more severe. “Suna’s gonna invade.” Something must’ve gotten caught in his throat because he fell into a completely real cough.

It looked just a little too real.

Drawing himself up, Aoba approached, trying to affect the best impression of concern he could muster. He acted as if Genma was broadcasting, recoiling a bit as if an errant through struck him like a jutsu. Shikaku looked up, catching the movement—as they expected he would.

“He saw a meeting between Suna’s lead jōnin and a representative of Orochimaru. There’s— There’s an invasion coming.”

“Raidō, get Genma to the hospital. Aoba, get a read. Now. We need to get moving. Everyone here, no word out until you receive orders. Understood?” There was an affirmative, people stepping back to give them some room. Shikaku stood, moving away from Genma's side while Aoba took his place, holding a hand above Genma’s forehead. Aoba felt the ANBU appear. He recognized them, even with the ANBU get-up.

She really should be grateful. He was saving her fiancé, after all.

Genma’s eyes were screwed shut, but his mind was whirring. Aoba could feel it. It was like a nest of bees. Like the Academy after a visit from the Hokage. Like a battle and a festival. As soon as his palm touched his friend’s forehead, he gasped. On instinct, he slapped Gemna’s mental manifestation.

And he didn’t feel bad about it. Not one bit. The jerk deserved it.

“What the hell, Aoba?”

“I hate you and I hate this stupid plan.”

“You liked it fine last night.”

“Go to hell.”

“It’s gonna work.”

“You remember that raid outside of—”

“This is nothing like that, man.” Genma huffed, slipping a senbon between his teeth. Even in his mind, the man was fixated. “That was a spur of the moment plan. This is…Well, it’s not so sudden at least.” Sold. Perfect sell. Aoba totally bought that. Rolling his eyes, he shifted his weight to his other leg and crossed his arms. “I think it’s pretty smart.”

“‘Pretty smart’ isn’t going to be enough for Nara Shikaku.”

“It’s his son’s plan, so…” Genma shrugged. “Look. Obviously, I’m not exactly enthused with this. It’s gonna land me in the hospital. I’m gonna be placed on medical leave. It’s gonna involve reports. Reports I can’t even have my kid write. Oh well, ya know? Nothin’ here is gonna be perfect.”

“I’m not asking for ‘perfect,’ you idiot. I’m asking for semi-coherent.”

Aoba could feel the franticness seeping into his tone, but he schooled his features. Because he was cool like that. Because he was a badass. Whatever freak-out he wanted to have, he could and would do it at home. Here, he was gonna be awesome, unflappable. Period.

“What’s the plan from here? There’re gonna know as soon as they send you to Inoichi.”

Why would they send me to Inoichi when you’re confident you pulled all the relevant information from me before I fell into unconsciousness from my grievous wounds? Genma’s lips didn’t move except to pull into a smirk.

Aoba didn’t consider himself a violent man, his work as an assassin notwithstanding, so his urge to maim Genma was a heady mixture of rage and incredulity.

“That’s what they’re hearing from me, huh?”

Genma just shrugged and Aoba sighed, resignedly withdrawing from his friend’s (loose terminology there also notwithstanding) head. As he withdrew, he forced Genma’s mind into a meditative state. It seemed to be a deep unconsciousness to all observers. And if he left a few thoughts about dream rats in Genma’s head to haunt his dreams, well then…Aoba stood, pressing his hands into his face to steady himself.

“Aoba. Report.”

“Genma was tailing Yakushi Kabuto on a hunch. Heard him speaking with Baki of Suna about an upcoming invasion. Yakushi Kabuto is Orochimaru’s right hand.” Aoba followed Nara Shikaku through the halls of headquarters, toward the pass-through to the Intelligence Division. “Suna will betray Konoha on the day of the finals. They are pairing with Sound.” He bit his lip, barely keeping himself from throwing out too many details. “Genma was attacked by Baki of Suna, but made it out alive.”

“Is Suna aware of his survival?” Shikaku’s voice was sharp. The voice of a man that was revered on the battlefield. Aoba was reminded why he thought the Commander was The Coolest.

“They aren’t. Genma used his Still Death poison. Faked his death and made it here without being seen. As far as they know, we’re unaware.”  

Which was what happened— only, to Gekkō. To disastrous ends.

Shikaku nodded, striding into Yamanaka Inoichi’s office. Aoba’s direct boss stood, shooting him a look as if to ask ‘what the hell kind of trouble did you land yourself in this time?’ to which Aoba had no reply. “Come on. The day just got busy.”

Aoba didn’t huff or sigh. Visibly, physically. But he did resolve to pay Genma back for this. Because this ‘plan’ of theirs? The Nara kid’s genius plan? Genma’s execution of the faked attack? They didn’t have to do the real work of it. He did.

As soon as those brats could buy alcohol, Aoba was going to collect.

“My Lady Miho, you are strong. Very strong. Strong-strong like a Bear. I can see the Okuda Clan in you, my Lady. The Okuda were very strong. Strong, strong indeed.”

Miho felt the sweat pouring down the sides of her face and clinging onto the longest curls in her ponytail as she let go of the weight. It crashed to the ground, sending up plumes of dust into the blue sky over Training Ground #5. Miho paced, shaking out her arms and stretching her back.

“The Okuda Clan birthed the strongest of the strong in the nations, even before the nations. When the Sage walked the Earth, the Okuda were lifting mountains and shifting lands. The Sage met the first Okuda. ‘Okuda,’ he said, ‘how did you become so strong?’ And the First Okuda said, ‘I draw my power from the storm.’” Shinrin’s voice was affecting gravity, as much as her sweet cadence could muster. “So, the Sage called the First Okuda ‘The Storm Lifter.’ And so, it was.”

Dusting herself off, Miho drew one of her yukata sleeves over her forehead to mop up the sweat. She’d done three hundred repetitions: three hundred lifts of one thousand pounds. In less than thirty minutes. The weights on her legs were still there. The weights on her arms were still there. Her muscles were burning and aching and felt as if they were about to tear off of her bones.

Miho felt alive for the first time in weeks.

Shinrin watched from the shade of the nearby trees, idly drawing a thread through a piece of fabric with her delicate claws. As she worked (on what, Miho wasn’t quite sure), she told stories. Stories about the Okuda and their skills, their knowledge.

“My Lady Miho, come here. Please.” The bear sat the needlework to the side and sat her claws on her haunches. Miho walked over, releasing her hair from its hold. It felt cooler when it was released, the light breeze able to hit her scalp. Shinrin reached a claw out and poked the weight on her right ankle. “The Okuda have long-used weights like these. They learned of them from another clan, a taijutsu-based clan of old. What is your weight now, my Lady Miho?”

“Six thousand pounds.”

Shinrin looked up, green eyes shining happily. “You are strong, my Lady Miho. You will be stronger! Like a Bear, they will say. Like a storm.” The bear reached over to grab a finished piece of needlework from the ground. “My grandmother— the Grand Old Thunder Bear, is what she is called— she taught me to do this.” Miho took the proffered piece of material.

On it was a delicate pattern of outlined bears, lightning and clouds cutting their fur. She never would’ve expected such careful work from a bear, whose claws seemed too large to do such little details. The silk was unscathed from the claws.

“It is not that big things cannot do little work, my grandmother said. Big things must do little work better because they must be so much more careful than when little things do little work. And we’re all capable of big work. It’s the little work that’s harder.” Shinrin used the sharp point of a claw to pick at one piece of the pattern. “Pull the fabric, my Lady.”

Miho did as she was told and the pattern began to unravel, pulling apart until the design was unrecognizable.

“This is the first in many lessons in the Bear Way, my Lady Miho. Patience and delicacy.” She drew out a purple pouch and Miho took it, looking to her summon for explanation. The breeze picked up and it felt like relief after hours of toiling and training. “A pattern, fabric, string, and needles. When you needle the pattern, we will start the next lesson. Until then, my Lady Miho…” Shinrin smiled a wide, sharp-toothed smile before disappearing in a puff of purple smoke.

“Didn’t see that coming.”

Jerking around, Miho rolled to her knees and pulled her naginata from her left arm guard, swinging it behind her in one swift move. Now it made sense why Shinrin glanced over her shoulder just as she disappeared. So, the bear had been aware of his presence. Miho inwardly sighed. She really needed to get better with her sensing.

He held up both gloved hands, raising his brows minutely at the defensive stance. “Didn’t mean to catch you off-guard. Thought you could sense me.” Kankurō lowered his hands and gestured toward the training field. “This field off-limits?”

“It’s my team’s field and it’s booked until six.”

He nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “Seems like every field is booked up today.”

Blinking, Miho pushed herself up using her staff. After a long moment staring at the bandaged puppet visible over his shoulder, Miho nodded, gesturing to the field. “What’s a shared training space between allies, huh?” Turning her back to him, Miho sat on the ground against her favorite oak and withdrew the needle and thread from the Bear pouch. “You sure you’re here to practice or’re you hear to spy?”

Kankurō scoffed, pulling the puppet from his back to set it on the ground by his side. “You really think I’m a spy dressed like this?” Miho looked up to find a grin on his painted face. “Besides, why would I wanna spy on someone who’s out of the exams?” He made a vague gesture that Miho probably should’ve found rude. “Since you gave me a cookie, you cann’t be a half-bad training-field-sharer.”

“If you’re really just here for another cookie, then you’re out of luck.”

“Training, honestly, but I won’t turn down one of those cookies.”

Miho nodded, not quite sure what to make of the situation. There was no way an opponent village, no matter how confident, would practice in front of a rival village shinobi. It was poor strategy. Unless he planned to ‘practice’ some poor techniques in order for her to report it to Shino. She kept her face void of emotion as she threaded the needle, pursing her lips with the effort. He was up to something. She just didn’t know what it was.

“Strings are complicated.” Kankurō stated with some amount of sympathy. “You don’t strike me as a ‘strings’ person.”

But if you want it,

Here’s my heart,

No strings attached.

She didn’t look at him or acknowledge the strange synthetic beat in her head. She could feel the bass of it rattling her bones, as if it were echoing up from her feet. And she could feel her face flush with exertion. The lights were flashing. Instead, Miho focused on getting the thread through the eye of the needle.

“I am a melee fighter. I need more refining.”

He scoffed, chakra threads flying from his fingers. Miho did raise her head then, to watch as the puppet came to life. She wondered, vaguely, if it moved differently in the humidity of Konoha rather than the dry heat of Suna. Maybe, one day, she could ask him. As a friend, rather than a Suna shinobi about to stage an invasion.

“Never been one for close combat.” Kankurō was making conversation. Which was strange. Miho tried not to frown at the string that refused to go through the needle’s eye. “I prefer keepin’ my distance. Seems like that’s the Aburame’s style, too.”

Ah, there it was. Not very subtle. Then again, Kankurō didn’t seem to have a subtle bone in his body. Miho let out a sigh as the thread finally made it through and she looked up to see the puppeteer spinning through a series of puppet-centered katas.

His eyes, though, were on her.

“Shino would win a one-on-one with you, close-range or otherwise.”

He stopped, puppet falling in a battle-ready position in the grass between him and where she sat. Miho stared at it, but continued to draw the threat through the needle’s eye until it was in the correct position.

“That’s a lot of confidence in the guy. You a little sweet on him or somethin’? I thought you had something for the weird-looking kid.” Her eyes rolled, but she said nothing. “Crushes shouldn’t affect your assessment of skills.” His tone was like a wise older brother dispensing wisdom.

Shrugging, Miho reached for the silk and rested it on her thigh before looking back toward him again. “Go ahead and assume that.” She pushed the needle into the top of the pattern and slid it through. “Your information-gathering is an area for improvement.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told.” Kankurō scoffed, throwing himself into another set of katas.

“Did you try tailing Kiba? He’s a loudmouth.”

“He’s also got that ninken.”

They fell into relatively easy silence. It was a strange sort of dynamic and, honestly, Miho wasn’t sure what to make of it. Kankurō, in the Images, was brash as a kid. He threatened children and seemed to be constantly riled. But, this guy was calmer. He seemed to be more at-ease than he had in the Images. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Every so often, she glanced up to see him running through a move. There were no strategies, nothing she hadn’t seen in the prelims.

With nearly a quarter of the needlepoint pattern completed, Miho leaned back against the tree and drew out a bag of chips, watching as he moved.

He was slow. Comparatively. She could track all of his movements.

But what he lacked in speed, he made up for in strategy and replacement.

Kankurō was a master at the replacement technique. To the point that it had almost become a game after an hour of watching.

She finally went back to her needlepoint about fifteen minutes before he stopped.

“Gaara wants to kill you.”

Miho looked up to find Kankurō staring across the clearing at her. He was using a jutsu to wrap his puppet, spinning it as the bandages hovered in midair. Swallowing the lump in her throat and the nervous hunger that struck her, Miho pursed her lips and nodded. She knew that.

“Wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“Why?”

She saw his painted brows lift at that blunt question. He huffed a laugh, hauling his puppet onto his back. Kankurō waved away her disbelieving tone. “You didn’t have to give me a cookie.” As if that explained everything. He started walking toward the main road, his back to her. “And I’ll beat the Aburame, too.”

No, he wouldn’t. He’d forfeit.

Miho sighed and reached for her snack pile, chucking something across the clearing.

He turned and grabbed it from the air, shock clear even at that distance.

“Last one!”

Miho stayed at the training ground until night began to fall. She only just finished a third of the needlework when her fingers ached too terribly to keep pushing the needle through the silk.

Delicacy was never her strength. Now, she could see what Shinrin meant.

“Sorry I’m late!”

“You’re SO late! I thought my stomach was gonna implode!”

Naruto waved from where he stood, just under the entrance of the stadium. Miho hurried up, throwing her arms around him while he flailed at the sudden embrace. She grinned into his shoulder, uncharacteristically putting weight onto him.

“Woah!” He called out, actually managing to keep balance. “What’s all this about? You’re not upset because of the whole hospital thing, are you? I ate the food you brought. Every bit of it.”

She pulled away, patting his shoulder before playfully swatting at his stomach. He grinned as he dodged. “Good thing I’ve already stocked your fridge. I made a lot and you’ve got a ton of bread and milk.” Miho ignored his squawk, turning on her heel to start walking. “Make sure you eat well tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I will. Okay.” He folded his arms behind his head as they moved. “How’s Chōji and Ino and Shika doing?”

It was just barely evening and Konoha was busy with life. Crowds were drawn from all over the nations to see the Chūnin Exam finals. Merchants crowded the streets and tourists were walking about on nearly every road they travelled.

It was a festival, stalls and crowds and drinking and joy.

“They’re exhausted. Could barely keep their eyes open last time I saw them. Clan training has drained them. I know Shikamaru’s been pretty determined for the last month, to the point that he stayed up late for the past week to learn another jutsu.”

Naruto let out a low whistle, excitedly looking at shadows cast by merchant lanterns. “Think he’s gonna be able to do any of that cool stuff Old Man Shikaku can do?”

Miho shrugged, but smiled. “Who knows?”

“And Ino’s already scary enough. I bet she’s gonna beat the hell out of her opponent.”

“Considering she’s got a bye…”

“She got a bye?!”

Naruto stopped in the middle of the road, looking to Miho in shock. For some reason, Miho felt a tingle crawl up her spine and she felt herself stiffen. Someone was watching. She didn’t dare to look up, but she could feel it. Whoever it was— and she had a pretty good guess— was observing. It felt like pressure on the back of her neck.

“Whaddya mean she’s got a bye? What happened to that weird guy from Oto?”

“He was killed.” Miho jerked her head toward Ramen Ichiraku down the road. “Let’s not discuss it here, okay?”

“Miho! Naruto! What’re you two doing out and about?” Miho turned to see her father with Yamanaka Inoichi. They were in their mission outfits, which meant that they likely just returned from what called them away a few days before.

Which meant that they were likely as prepared as they could be for the imminent invasion.

Miho felt fear curl in her stomach as her father approached and rested a large hand on her head.

There were bags under his eyes.

Inoichi looked down at Naruto and smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his haunting blue eyes. “You’ll do great tomorrow, kid.” He reached forward and ruffled Naruto’s hair. Miho studiously kept her jaw from dropping, looking up to her father instead. “Miho, see if you can keep Ino and the boys out of trouble, will ya?”

“If Ino can’t keep them out of trouble, there’s no hope.”

Her father nodded to Inoichi as the other man left, walking in the direction of the Yamanaka estate. Miho watched as her Pa withdrew his pouch, reaching over to take Naruto’s hand as he knelt down. Naruto startled at the contact, looking at her father with wide eyes.

“This is something a friend gave me a long, long time ago. You remind me of him. A lot. I remember when he entered the finals. He was nervous.”

Miho watched as he deposited something in Naruto’s hand, wrapping the boy’s fingers around it. Her heart skittered, feeling the same prickling sensation as a few minutes before. He was watching. Gaara was watching. Miho shifted her back to where she felt him. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks.

But she still put herself between her imagination and her family.

“It’s…bandages?”

“Special reinforced bandages. They’re chakra-enhanced. I’ve never used them, but I think you will use them well.” He made wrapping motions around his forearms and then gestured to his legs. “Just one layer should do it.”

Miho could see tears glistening in Naruto’s eyes. “I— I— Thank you, Uncle Chōza!” He flew forward, throwing his arms as far around her father’s chest as he could, which only amount to the tips of his fingers on the edges of her father’s arms.

Her Pa’s eyes went to her and he smiled, reaching forward to press a hand to the side of her face. Like always.

“Be home by eight. There is much to be done.”

Hesitating for just a scant moment, Miho nodded. Her hands fisted at her sides.

He would be preparing the clan compound for the invasion.

Her father stood and stepped back, looking down at them. And, for some reason, it felt different. Miho couldn’t say why, but… He smiled and turned to the right, toward the compound. Naruto looked down at the bandages in his hand while Miho watched her father walk down the street, towering over the crowds as he moved.

At one time, she rode above the crowds on his shoulders.

It always seemed like she could see forever up there.

“Can you show me how to put these on?”

Miho turned to Naruto and smiled. “Of course.”

He nodded, resolutely— as if he had made some sort of decision. Naruto grabbed her hand and pulled, dragging her over to the Ramen Ichiraku stall. He spun around to walk behind her, pressing under her shoulders to get her to move faster to a seat.

“You still keep that pencil on you?”

Brows pulling together at the question, Miho nodded, reaching down to draw a pencil from her kunai holster.

Naruto smiled, but his smiled a bit strained. He grabbed a napkin from the counter, shouting a warm greeting to the cook and his daughter as he scribbled. Looking determinedly at the countertop, he pressed it over to her.

We’re being watched.

He sensed it.

Miho felt her heart shudder and she struggled to breathe for a moment.

Of course, he sensed it. Naruto was seriously in-tune with chakra, even without that kind of training. And it wasn’t even chakra that had tipped her off— it was a feeling. Like how prey can sense a predator lingering just out of sight. A feeling of dread.

She took the pencil from him, pretending to look at the menu. She’d been here a hundred times and her order never changed.

I know. It’s Gaara.

Naruto nodded, boisterously waving off the old cook’s concern over his hospital stay. She could see the tension in his shoulders. Reaching over, she threw an arm around them.

Though she desperately wanted to turn and glare toward where she felt the pressure, she couldn’t confront Gaara. She wouldn’t stand a chance. And neither would any of the innocent civilians that would pay collateral.

“Remember to set your alarm tonight. Don’t run late.”

Naruto affected a scoff, shaking his head. “I’ll get up and run whatever three hundred stupid laps you and Bushy Brows run! I need to get an early start! You wanna run with me? I can meet you at Training Ground #5!”

Miho nodded, grinning. Naruto turned back to Old Man Ichiraku. Fear gripped her stomach then— a different fear than the red-headed one lingering on some rooftop nearby. This one was chaos. Chaos that might lead to many people dying in less than a day, in less than twelve hours.

This disaster was coming for her whole village.

Her grip tightened as a large bowl of ramen, much larger than what her friend had ordered, was placed on the counter. She sat back and released her friend, watching with awe as the man turned away.

Naruto gleefully shouted his thanks as Gaara's looming disappeared.

She gratefully accepted her pork ramen a moment later.

That night, she only ate five bowls.

Her usual was fifteen.

Chōza wondered. He wondered as he watched his son run up to his daughter. He wondered as they strode, with clear purpose, to the archive at the back of the compound. He wondered just what possessed him to follow them. It seemed, too often now, that his children kept much from him. At first, it was just Miho. Miho and her lack of trust. Miho and her disappointment in him and his actions. Her distrust was like a kunai to the heart every time it reared its ugly head.

Then, Chōji followed his sister’s lead. It was subtle at first. Then, more and more apparent. Chōji’s goals over the last month were telling, telling of more than his own shame. Chōji trained like a young man with a deadline.

It seemed, so did the other two heirs of the Three. Shikamaru and Ino both trained as if the world was ending, not as if it were the finals of an exam. At first, he found it endearing— they were trying their hardest to become good ninja.

He felt pride knowing that Chōji and the others had such determination.

Then, Miho finally left Rock Lee’s side in the hospital. She signed with the Bears. She upped her weight regimen and took up the more offensive naginata. She drew her hair back into a bun to keep it from her eyes. She and Chōji sparred, training for life-or-death battles.

He recognized desperation when he saw it.

He also recognized when his daughter placed herself between Suna’s lingering jinchuriki and himself and Naruto.

Now, immediately after arriving home, his daughter took one look at her brother and followed him to the archive.

Chōza was a father. And Chōza wondered. So Chōza followed.

She didn’t even know of her teacher’s injuries or how close she’d come to losing him the previous night. Knowing her, she would spend days at his side in the hospital, if she were allowed. Then, she would throw herself headlong into training. Chōza followed, stopping cold when he realized that his children had hidden themselves in the reading room at the back corner.

The only room in the archive with pre-made privacy seals.

Privacy seals he controlled. Privacy seals he had Minato place on the walls when he’d become Clan Head.

Minato, whose son looked up at him that evening with so much thankfulness for just a few bandages and well-wishes.

Chōza thought about letting it be. He had a clan to prepare and a compound to secure, an invasion to prepare for. But, one memory kept rattling around in his head. Like dried pieces of corn in a rattle drum.

Chōji had been on his back, gritting his teeth through the pain in his muscles as they cramped. Chōza remembered the same pains from his youth, before his body was used to the stress of the pills. Just one pill had his son heaving and he hoped that he’d never experience two or, Kami-forbid, three pills.

After a couple deep gulps of air, his son rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees.

“It’s not enough. Let’s go again.”

“You just did a controlled green pill transformation, my son. It’s—”

“It’s not gonna be enough. Not yet. I need to be stronger.”

“Strength comes with ti—”

“We don’t have time.” Chōji had settled onto his haunches, staring up at Chōza with startlingly clear eyes. The pain had been managed, forced away. His son forced himself to stand, balancing his new weight with ease. Chōza felt a chill as his son’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t have time, Pa. Let’s go again.”

Chōza reached forward and pressed his palm to the wall. Those within would not sense the tap-in. Only he would be able to hear what they were saying. And, perhaps, this was a breech of their privacy. Perhaps his daughter would trust him even less if she knew, but…

“—in the hospital. Probably wasn’t a part of the plan.” Miho sounded tired. More tired than she should be at her age. Not the kind of physical exhaustion that came from a day of missions or training. She sounded soul-tired. “Shikamaru didn’t specify, did he?”

“Just said ‘troublesome, figure it out.’” Chōji answered. “With Genma-sensei out of commission—?”

They knew about Shiranui Genma’s injuries? How? His entire situation was classified by Nara Shikaku. The man had been unconscious and been protected by ANBU guard for three days.

“He’ll be up and about before things go sideways. Aoba-sensei’s not stupid.”

He could hear a chair creak and he could imagine Miho falling into one of the century-old wood chairs inside. A crackling sound and then the crunch of potato chips. He would know that sound anywhere. Another similar sound. They both had opened up chip bags.

“Shikamaru’s still good on the plan, right?”

His son sighed. “Ino’s not too happy about it, but she’s got the bye, so…”

“At least if he forfeits, he won’t be tired when the fighting starts.”

“Yeah, Ino just says he didn’t put that much effort into it there and then either.”

Miho’s scoff was so familiar that Chōza— even in the unfamiliarity of what he was hearing— could see her eyes rolling. “He was chakra exhausted.”

“Either way, he’s good to go. Ino’s ready as well. We’re all good.” Chōji was obviously trying to head-off an old argument by the tone in his voice. “You’re still planning to go up there?”

“It’s the only plan we could think of that has it ending tomorrow.”

“We?”

“It wasn’t my idea, Chōji.”

“Your speed’s not—”

“I know.”

Silence hung in the air and Chōza sat with his uncertainty. His children knew something. They knew what was coming. They knew of the invasion. The only explanation that he could think of was that Genma had told his daughter. Which meant that her teacher had told his team an A-rank secret. But when had she visited Genma? Was he even conscious yet? He’d been under ANBU guard for nearly three days.

“Miho, I still don’t think this is a good idea. You won’t get past him. He’ll kill you before you’re able to do anything. Why not just let Aoba-sensei and Genma-sensei take care of it? They knew him anyway, didn’t they? Or just…There’s got to be a better plan.”

His daughter didn’t answer and Chōza felt anxiety build in his stomach. He’d had enough. Enough of the confusion, enough wondering. Removing his hand from the wall, he rounded the final wooden bookshelf and knocked on the door, opening it before they could answer.

His children stood.

Chōji shifted just a bit, but enough to be a tell. Of guilt. His son looked as if he didn’t want to be ashamed, but he was regardless. He couldn’t hold Chōza’s eyes for more than a few seconds.

Miho rolled her shoulders, waving at him with as innocent of an expression as she could manage. She didn’t look guilty— just tired. He tried not to notice the bags under her eyes. So similar to Chisato.

“Who is it you will be getting past tomorrow, Miho? And how it is that you two know what is coming during tomorrow’s exams?”

It was his daughter that figured it out first, eyes flying around the room as if she could see the seals. When her eyes settled on him again, her expression made him want to take a step back. Even when she was younger and she’d chastised him for his— whole generation’s— treatment of Naruto, she hadn’t looked at him like this.

Before, it had been unwilling distrust.

She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t.

Because she didn’t understand or respect his actions.

Now, it was outright.

And he earned it.

“Father, we were just—” Chōji stopped still, mouth opening and closing before his hands fisted. He looked to Miho, but she didn’t look to her brother. She held Chōza’s stare, back straightening.

Chōza’s eyes narrowed and he tried to impress upon them the seriousness of the situation.

His arms crossed.

“Well?”

His daughter didn’t falter. “Genma-sensei told me.”

“How? He’s still unconscious, from what I know.”

“I was doing my usual training. I found him in the forest on the eastern side of town during my run. I got him as close to Jōnin Command as he would let me go.”

“And he told you what?”

It was a test, to see what she knew and how much danger his children were in. Miho’s normally soft brown eyes narrowed to slits before flicking to her brother. He was hesitating, shoulders shaking. “I can’t say any of it out loud without a seal, Father.”

She was lying. Miho had a habit when she was lying, ever since she was a little girl. She swayed her weight, rolling to the balls of her feet in such small increments that it was almost imperceptible unless someone knew what to look for. And Chōza was her father. He knew all her tells.

He thought he knew all about both of his children. Apparently, he was wrong.

“And my other question?”

“Which one?” Her voice was controlled, almost foreign. Chōji shifted.

Chōza wondered if this was his daughter, the kunoichi, rather than his daughter, just his daughter. “Who you will be ‘getting past’ tomorrow.” She sighed, lowering her head. He could see that she was considering lying. She’d shifted her weight. “The exam proctor. I want a chance at—"

Something slammed to his left and he found Chōji’s hand on the wall, green chakra echoing around the room.

“Orochimaru.”

Miho jerked her head around to stare at her brother. The hurt and betrayal there made his heart ache. Her brother didn’t look at her, standing straighter as he stepped forward. Chōji was stubborn and determined whenever he chose to be. And, it seemed, he’d chosen. Chōji’s Will was strong. Stronger than most.

“Chōji—”

“She’ll try to get past Orochimaru.”

“Chōji!”

Chōza did take a step back, staggering a bit at the force of what his son said. His daughter planned to get past the Snake Sannin? “What?”

“Orochimaru’s taken the place of the Kazekage. He’s going to resurrect the former Hokage and control them when he fights the Third.”

When he…

“You can’t just—” Miho’s voice was frantic, terrified, hurt, betrayed. “Chōji, what’re you doing?”

Chōza looked between his children, watching as Miho edged backwards from the table. As if she needed the walls to cover her back. As if they would not do that for her. His stomach lurched at the way she retreated. His heart stopped at the look she sent Chōji. “What— How do you know any of this?”

Miho dragged her eyes away from her brother, staring at the floor beneath her feet. She was beginning to shake, to quiver.

“It doesn’t matter,” Chōji tried. Chōza waved a hand. “Father, it—”

“It matters, son. If this source is credible, then—”

“It’s credible, but— but limited.” Chōji seemed to choke on nothing, looking toward his sister. “Miho, we have to tell him. We have to. It’s tomorrow. What if something goes wrong? What if— Miho, what if—” Her brother raced around the table, holding up both hands when his sister took a sharp step back, eyes rising from where she was staring at the wooden planks beneath her feet.

That anger. The way her eyes narrowed and her teeth bared as she stepped back?

That was all Okuda Keisuke.

Then, he saw it melt.

The bravado. It melted into a firm sort of confidence that…was hauntingly familiar. Her shoulders pulled back and she raised her chin just a bit, looking down her nose at Chōji. Chōji, whose hands were still raised in placation.

“Miho, explain this. Please.” Chōza kept his voice calm, even.

She looked to him, over her brother’s head. His daughter drew in a breath, held it, and released it again, sagging forward as if under a tremendous weight. She swallowed nothing, shot her brother a disappointed look, and rolled her shoulders one last time.

“Thank you for giving Naruto the Fourth Hokage’s bandages, Father. I told him before I left him tonight who they belonged to. It meant the world to him. And it meant the world to me.” She leaned forward in a deep bow. “I’ve tried my best to protect people the best ways I know how. But, it seems like I have to give more.” She rose and looked to her brother. “I’ll keep giving until I have nothing left to give.”

Sweet, sweet Chōji. Chōji, who was crying as he drew his hands away.

Chōza knew his son. Chōza could see the regret.

She tilted her head back to keep her own tears at bay. Her eyes were resigned. She was resigned. 

Chōza felt his heart breaking for his children, whatever was happening. Perhaps he’d made a mistake. He’d made a mistake and there was no righting it now.

“I know the future, Father. A version of it. I know what will happen tomorrow. I know what might happen years from now. I know more than I should.”

Miho drew herself up to her full height even as Chōza felt the world shift.

“I didn’t hear anything from Genma-sensei. Genma-sensei heard about the invasion from me.”

Aoba entered the Hokage's office to see Akimichi Miho kneeling before the old man, chin raised and eyes shut. Her body was shaking violently, the tremors seemed to reverberate around the office. When he saw Inoichi's hand draw away from the girl's head, Aoba just barely caught her before her body hit the floor. Looking up, he could tell that the Third was intent-- intent on what exactly, Aoba wasn't sure. 

Never break the chain

Never break the chain

He could hear the remnants of an unfamiliar song making the rounds within her brain, one echo after another. Inoichi had put her into unconsciousness, so she wouldn't have to deal with the Hokage. Inoichi, who stood partway blocking the girl from view, was protecting her. Aoba looked between the Yamanaka and the old man.

"The girl is telling the truth, Lord Hokage."

The Third didn't move, continuing to stare at the dark village. After a few long minutes, he turned and moved to his seat behind the desk. Aoba shifted the girl in his arms, wondering if they would all end up in neighboring cells. After all, now Inoichi had all the information he needed. But his daughter was also involved. 

Resources...Secrets...

"Aoba, you were aware of this?" 

He nodded. "I was, Lord Hokage." 

"Explain to us what you know and why you made the decisions you made." 

Yamashiro Aoba needed a drink.

The plan just got more complicated. 

Really, the plan was shot to hell. 

And it was supposed to be so simple.

Chapter Text

It was impossible to protect them from the fallout. That was the scariest part. Not the impending punishment. Not the likely cell where she’d be bled dry of all she knew. Those things paled in comparison. They were finite. There was no making sure they came out on the other side. Genma-sensei was wheeled in, face carefully placid. She could feel the worry, the concern. She could feel how much he wanted to place himself between her and all of this.

Miho couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds. She stared at the windows behind the Hokage, the darkened village. She wondered if Naruto was sleeping. She hoped so. He needed the rest.

He’d been so worried when she’d walked him to his apartment.

The Hokage kept silent, as he had since he’d sent for Team Ten and her teacher. His gnarled hands were folded in front of his lips, hiding his emotions. Miho couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds.

When Ino, Shikamaru, and Chōji were marched into the Hokage’s office at three in the morning, Miho wished. Even though she knew that wishing was naïve. Too naïve for where she stood. For what she’d done. For the situation she was in.

Still, Miho wished she’d never been reborn into this world.

It didn’t matter where else her soul went, where it landed. It should’ve never been this place.

Then, they wouldn’t have to deal with this, deal with her. Deal with any of it.

Then, her father wouldn’t look so… conflicted.

Then, Chōji wouldn’t look so hurt.

Miho turned her back on them, unable to look at Team Ten any longer. She’d figure out how to explain it all away. Take the blame. She’d figure out some way to save them from all this.

Saving them from the Hokage was one thing.

Saving them from Danzō was another.

Miho fought the shiver at the base of her spine.

Ino was at her side then and, like a true heiress, she fell into a bow to the Hokage. Miho fought the urge to push her back toward the door. Instead, she gripped the edge of her yukata, rubbing the little leaf details with her thumbs.

“Lord Third, none of our actions were to harm Konohagakure.”

Miho flinched, feeling a presence to her left. She glanced over to see Shikamaru slouched at her side. He looked up from under his lashes, tiredly communicating how much of a drag all of this was. There was an angry tilt to his thin lips. The kind he usually had when he was pissed off. Shikamaru’s anger was palpable. She could feel it on her skin somehow.

“Thank you for that preface, Yamanaka Ino.” Lord Hokage pulled smoke into his lungs and he it for a moment before breathing it out. Miho decided that there were only a few smells that she absolutely loathed. The scent of Sarutobi Hiruzen’s tobacco was ranked just as high as brined corn. “While your insight is appreciated, I am afraid that I have quite a different perspective.”

Ino rose up, face carefully blank. Her head turned and her eyes looked to Miho’s face before sliding to the presence at the door. Miho could imagine Chōji standing there, with her father and his teacher. The teacher who was going to die.

Maybe if Lord Third understood with his own eyes… Maybe then…

Danzō didn’t yet know. Maybe it could be avoided.

Ino’s father and Aoba-sensei had recounted, described.

She’d kept silent while the “witnesses” were called. She’d kept her head down, not saying anything while Aoba was grilled and her teacher answered, carefully avoiding anything too incriminating. She stayed quiet when Yamanaka Inoichi recited the events as if they were a grocery list. She gritted her teeth when he side-stepped truths.

She knew of the Uchiha Massacre.

Nothing more than its occurrence.

Not why it happened or who had a role in it.

She knew of the coming invasion.

Not who was pulling the strings from the inside, giving Orochimaru all the access to Konoha he needed. Who was using Orochimaru and Suna to prove the village’s weaknesses. Who was the utilitarian mastermind behind countless deaths.

“Lord Hokage.” Her voice was rough and she felt small. She felt smaller than she’d ever felt. And Miho knew that she was never meant to feel small. In a world of small people, she was always meant to be large. It felt like her weight was drawing her down and Miho lowered herself to one knee, pulling her arm over her chest.

She wondered if her father was ashamed of her as she moved.

Ashamed that she fell into the Akimichi’s formal salute.

Ashamed of her.

She swallowed.

No matter how much she wanted to cry.

She was a kunoichi. And she had people to protect.

If there was anything that could keep her out of a cell, it was this.

“Lord Hokage, please let me show you. Please let Lord Yamanaka show you.”  Raising her eyes up from the floor, she held the old man’s stare. She didn’t shiver, but she could feel a cold sensation on her back. “I beg of you, sir. There is so much more to it. Yes, we were hiding the information, but there is a reason we did that. Hearing it and seeing it are very—”

“Akimichi Miho.”

Miho looked up at the leader of her village.

The grandfather figure everyone looked to for guidance.

“You are charged with treason against Konoha.”

“But, Lord Ho—”

Fear lurched through her stomach as her heart stopped. She felt a presence at her side as an ANBU appeared, a strong hand gripping her shoulder and forcing her to stand. Miho struggled upright, knees popping with the movement.

This…This wasn’t what she expected.

Some part of her, a very small and hopeful part, believed that he would hear her out.

Some part of her— wanted to think that he was a character that was better than this.

Character? No. Miho shook her head.

He was never better than this, was he?

That’s not what he was meant to stand for in the story.

The story. Miho wanted to scream.

“You will be held until after this affair with Suna and Oto is settled. Until th—”

Genma-sensei was at her side, but she wasn’t sure how or when he got there. She could feel that the hand on her shoulder was gone. When she looked up, it was to see her teacher had the ANBU’s arm pulled behind his back, palm pushed up between his shoulder blades. Genma-sensei’s eyes were cold and hard. Unrelenting. He jerked the ANBU’s arm up again and she winced at the movement, knowing that the ANBU would’ve been trained to endure that kind of pain.

She wasn’t sure why the ANBU didn’t retaliate.

Genma-sensei’s eyes never left the Hokage. “Lord Third, Miho is a kunoichi loyal to Konoha. There are reasons for her silence that I suspect have not been disclosed, given our location and audience.” Her teacher’s free hand rested on her shoulder, gripping tightly.

The Hokage’s eyes shut and opened slowly, a strange owlish look that made him seem even more dangerous. She wondered how many ways he’d already envisioned her dead, even if he espoused peace.

He would have no qualms killing children. After all, Miho shuddered, look what he put Itachi through. And Shisui. What he was willing to put Naruto through. And Sasuke. What he allowed Kakashi to go through without support. This man didn’t care that she was a child. He didn’t care that she was a human. He wouldn’t care about Ino or Shikamaru or Chōji if they weren’t the sons and daughters of major clans.

At least, they were somewhat protected in that regard.

But the Uchiha…

Clan status didn’t protect them, did it?

Genma-sensei’s hand tightened when another figure stepped forward. She glanced over to see Aoba-sensei angling just slightly in front of her on her other side. He reached up to adjust his glasses, but she could briefly see his eyes in the movement.

He looked so worried.

And scared.

Miho shivered as he began to talk.

“As I stated earlier, Lord Hokage, Miho made the best decision available to her. There are extenuating—”

“You are both components in this charge of treason, Aoba, Genma. I would suggest you stay silent.”

“Sir, with all due respect, every action that Miho has undertaken has been in service to Konoha— to Uzumaki Naruto, to her friends and family. She has the Will of Fire.”

Miho shook at the mention of Naruto’s name.

He wouldn’t understand.

She wouldn’t be there for his final match and he wouldn’t understand.

If she died, would he ever know why?

Lee, too. They’d never know.

She heard the footsteps and saw the Hokage’s patient eyes fall on a figure that planted himself firmly in front of her.

Like a wall.

Chōji held out both arms. As if that would do anything.

She felt her teacher’s hand tighten on her shoulder, giving a warning squeeze.

“Lord Hokage, please. My sister is not a traitor. She loves Konohagakure. Everything she’s ever done has been to protect it. I told my father because I believed it was the right thing to do.” Miho felt her entire body jerk as Chōji’s voice cut through the office. It was sharp as a blade, so different from his usual calm and even demeanor. She resisted the urge to step forward. “Let me show you, Lord Hokage. Let me show you everything.”

His shoulders were tensed, his fisted hands fell to his sides.

She could imagine the determined set of his jaw and his narrowed eyes. The same eyes that he always had when he felt he was doing something right and damn the consequences.

Except her brother was facing down the Hokage— the God of Shinobi— holding his stare.

Genma-sensei edged her back until she was behind him and Aoba-sensei. His hand stayed on her, fingers gripping her yukata tightly as his other hand lingered closer to his holster. The ANBU shifted with Genma-sensei and, for some reason, she could sense a bland sort of frustration in the movement. The shade of the man’s hair was familiar, though she couldn’t place it. He seemed to sigh.

The Hokage’s eyes rose and he looked blandly at her teacher.

“Genma.” His voice held a warning. The old man turned back to Chōji. “Inoichi has told me enough.” The Hokage looked to the Yamanaka Clan Head, who minutely shook his head. The Hokage’s mouth opened before his eyes slowly blinked and he frowned.

“Showing and telling are different, Lord Third.” Ino was at her side again, gripping her arm. Her father shot his daughter a look, but met the Hokage’s angry eyes. Ino didn’t back down. She never did.

He stood, making his way around the desk. As he moved, Miho felt chakra ripple through the office. The first wave was bearable, but the second and third had her gasping. Her knees gave way and she bit back a yelp when her knees hit the floor. Ino and Shikamaru were both on their knees as well, quaking.

She saw, in many gruesome ways, all the ways she could die at that very moment.

In front of her Chōji held his ground, knees shaking as he remained standing. The Hokage arrived to stand in front of her brother. Her brother must’ve continued holding the man’s eyes because the Hokage nodded. “You are much like your father.” He raised his eyes to look to where she knew her father stood.

“He does you credit, Chōza.”

She felt the chakra pulse and the Killing Intent fade away. Miho huffed out a breath. Aoba-sensei lowered himself down, pressing a hand to her face and then to Shikamaru and Ino’s shoulders. Miho shifted to her knees.

The Hokage’s activated the privacy seal.

Miho jerked her head around to face Ino. Then, jolted when Shikamaru’s voice entered her head as well.

He hid it in the Killing Intent.

Won’t matter if the ANBU is Root.

Choking at the thrill of fear that shot through her chest, Miho scrambled forward only to be caught by Aoba-sensei. “It’s fine. Trust me, Miho.” He gave her a steady, meaningful look with significantly more calm than he had a few moments before. He flicked his attention to Ino and Shikamaru before nodding. “Trust us.”

“Inoichi, show me what you haven’t told me. Show me Akimichi Chōji’s memories.”

Chōji stood straighter.

“Yes, Lord Hokage.”

Miho watched, barely keeping her breathing even as the Yamanaka Clan Head placed a hand on her brother’s head and then the Hokage’s. Swallowing, she ignored the swell of hunger in her stomach. It felt like she hadn’t eaten in hours. In so, so long. She wanted to eat.

Genma-sensei slowly lowered himself down to one knee, turning his upper body toward her before flicking his attention up and to the right of the door.

Where she knew her father was standing.

“Genma-sensei—”

Her teacher’s jaw worked as he continued to glare.

“Genma-sensei, it’s—”

Not okay. It’s not okay, Miho. Ino grabbed her arm and she heard her teacher’s voice in her mind. He didn’t move as she stared up at him. It’s not okay, but we’ll get through this. All of us. Together. But this is not okay.

Ino sagged a bit at her side and Miho looked over to see bags under her friend’s eyes. “Stop. Rest.” Nodding, Ino settled down onto her folded legs. “You’ve got to be exhausted.” There was the slightest tilt to Ino’s lips that made Miho recognize the danger almost everyone was in from her friend’s rage. “It’s—”

“We’re going to have a conversation about self-sacrifice.”

“Troublesome.”

“And we’re going to have a conversation about—”

“Akimichi Miho.”

She jerked around to see the Hokage’s eyes on her. His eyes were no longer full of disappointment and contempt. Instead, they were full of something she couldn’t quite place. Not quite awe. Not quite understanding. Perhaps it was assessment. As if he was trying to understand. He rested a hand on Chōji’s wild brown hair, pushing the fridge down over her brother’s eyes. Miho shifted into a more formal position, mimicking her teacher’s stance.

The Hokage glanced to Genma-sensei and nodded.

“These events do not leave this room. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Lord Hokage.” was the immediate reply.

“Lord Third, what—” She heard her father take a step forward, but he stopped moving when the old man held up a hand. Miho flinched, a sick feeling like indigestion bubbling in her chest and throat. The Hokage’s eyes fell on her, flicking to Ino and then Shikamaru. He knew.

He knew everything.

Not just the future events. Those were only part of the story. The climax.

He knew what they knew. The context, the climbing action.

And he knew why they, children— even children indoctrinated with the village’s beliefs— chose not to tell him.

Danzō. 

His own terrifying decisions.

He knew.

And he knew what she thought about them.

Miho shifted her weight and the Hokage looked away, pulling his hand from Chōji’s head to fold both hands behind his back. “I am an old man, but there are always new things that surprise me. Once again, it is clear that one never stops learning.” A bit tiredly, he glanced to Genma-sensei. “Genma, please stop acting like I am going to kill your student. She is in no danger from me.”

Genma-sensei’s tension eased, but he saw the modifier as easily as anyone else.

From me.

And still, Miho doubted that, no matter how sincere the Hokage seemed.

“She’s still in danger.”

The Hokage hummed, turning his back on the room to look out at the night-shadowed village. “Indeed, all of them are. All of you are. Cat.” An ANBU appeared. Her light purple hair seemed familiar to Miho, but she couldn’t place the recognition. “Summon Nara Shikaku then guard along with Deer and Jaguar. Deer, Jaguar, Rabbit.” ANBU Cat disappeared while two male ANBU appeared. Miho glanced around to find that the same ANBU was still there, though she’d forgotten about him. “Secure this room. No one save for Nara Shikaku can enter. We are entering a Status One.”

The ANBU set to their guard duty. Miho flinched when metal shutters clamped shut over the windows of the office.

“We can speak freely.”

“Then sorry for the lack of decorum, Lord Hokage, but what the hell is going on?” Asuma-sensei questioned, stepping forward to where Ino was pushing herself to her feet and Shikamaru was still sitting on the floor, obviously seeing no reason to stand up. “These two have the finals tomorrow. In just a few hours. What exactly did Akimichi Miho do?”

“She, as well as your students, has kept S-class secrets known to her since childhood, worked to maintain security of the village’s legacy, and has tried to curb our fate. And was even willing to give her life for my own.” The Hokage turned only his head and Miho stared, completely flummoxed by his conflicted profile. “Your plan would not have worked, Miho.”

“Chōji showed you—”

“Your brother feared for your fate and saw his actions as the only way to save you.”

Chōji kept his eyes on the floor.

Miho pushed herself up to stand. She felt the flab of her arms get caught in the fabric of her yukata and shook out the skin. “Sir—”

“I have earned the mistrust you have in me. From the things I have seen—that you have seen— it is a wonder that you are not more disillusioned. I believe you have every right to be.” He turned, eyes falling on Ino. “And you have no small part either. You— all of you— have inherited the Will of Fire. You are determined to protect your friend, your family, and this village.”

Ino’s mouth opened and shut before she finally settled on nodding.

The Hokage then looked down to Shikamaru, whose eyes were shut. “I assume this time you will not sleep away an invasion?” Shikamaru opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders. “Your plan was genius. As would be expected. Save for the part that included saving my life, we may well have repelled the invasion. You do your father proud.”

As if summoned by his mention, the door to the office opened and Nara Shikaku stepped in, looking far more awake than any Nara should at three-thirty in the morning. He immediately found his son and shut the door behind, moving to stand at her father’s side.

Her father met her eyes for a long moment and Miho looked away, studiously focusing on the Nara Clan Head.

“Lord Hokage.”

“Inoichi, show Shikaku, Chōza, and Asuma. It is as your daughter says: showing and telling are vastly different.” The Hokage turned and moved to settle himself in his chair once more, folding his hands in front of his mouth. Miho rose up from where she sat, still feeling off-kilter by more than just the blood rushing to her head. “We have much to do and not much time to do it.”

“Sir, the Hawk?”

Conflict shimmered in the old man’s eyes and Miho felt tense, waiting for him to respond to Genma-sensei’s question. “It seems…that I was wrong to let him go for so long unchecked.”

She didn’t react to the hedging words, not sure how to respond to them. Even after everything he’d seen and everything that they knew, the Hokage still loved that man. No matter that he murdered children, tortured and conditioned them into compliance, kidnapped them, hurt them. No matter that he gave Orochimaru subjects for his experiments. No matter that he put down a peaceful movement. No matter that he watched as the village was destroyed and its only hope for salvation— for Naruto— Danzō killed.

Miho remembered that scene clearly.

She remembered the shock and fear, even if it was “only a story.”

The blood and the sword and the sickening realization.

The realization that Naruto wasn’t coming.

That more people were going to die.

That the village was—

“We need to tread carefully. Danzō is a powerful political figure. Accusing him of treason will not bode well for the village. Not to mention the current international tensions.” Nara Shikaku’s voice pulled at the silence, unravelling it. Miho didn’t look at him, but instead looked up to her teacher’s face.

He put a senbon between his teeth and met her eyes. He rolled the senbon between his teeth before, sighing. “Just kill the bastard.” Miho watched as he pushed his hands into his pockets and slouched. The Nara Clan Head gave him a very long-suffering look. “Kill the bastard. It solves so many problems. I’d volunteer, but I’m no match for him.”

“It’s not so simple. Assassinating one of Konoha’s elders will have ripple effects. What do you think his shadow organization will do once he’s gone? With whatever fail-safes he put in place, we can’t just destroy him and expect no consequences. We can’t have a leaderless shadow faction running around.”

The Hokage coughed, bringing attention back to himself. “I believe that we have a much more pressing issue. The Invasion.” He looked to the Three Clan Heads. “Is all prepared? We were well on-track before Akimichi Miho’s revelation. Thanks to Genma’s theatrics and Aoba’s performance.” Miho shifted and her movement drew his eyes. “Until the situation is secured, you four are to be guarded.”

“They can all stay at the Akimichi estate.” Her father stepped forward. “We are prepared for tomorrow’s attack.”

“That won’t work for Ino and Shikamaru. They’re still fighting.”

Her father seemed to come up short, mouth falling open at Asuma’s words. “Lord Hokage, do you mean for the finals to proceed?”

“It is the only way to assure that we have the upper hand. Suna and Oto have no idea of our foreknowledge. That can work to our advantage. We can begin evacuating minutes before the attack commences.”

Miho listened, moving to the edge of the room with Ino, Shikamaru, and Chōji as the adults discussed strategies. Her stomach was growling, twisting and turning on itself. It felt as if the acid was being squeezed up into her chest and throat. There was this lingering fear, nipping at the corners of her mind.

Like a red-eye-covered arm would appear from the shadows and grab her.

With his stolen eye— Shisui’s eye— he’d make her tell him every secret she protected.

He couldn’t know. Could he? Not yet.

“Miho.”

She turned to her brother, looking between his face and the bag of chips he held out to her.

“I’m sorry.”

Pulling in a deep breath, Miho struggled not to take the bag of chips and throw them back at him. Her brother knew her. He knew her so well that she could see his wince when the anger flickered onto her face. Swallowing, she tightened her fist so hard that the bones popped and she released the tension, reaching for a chip. He didn’t smile when she ate it, letting the salt melt on her tongue. Neither did she.

She may have forgiven him, but—

“Akimichi Miho.”

Miho turned to the Hokage, trying not to flinch under his stare. “Sir?”

“You will be assigned an ANBU guard. Each of you will. You will attend tomorrow’s finals.”

“How can we be sure they’re not Root?”

Shikamaru’s question was met with heavy silence. Miho wondered for a moment whether or not they’d already discussed such a possibility. It was Genma-sensei that stepped forward. His eyes cut to the Hokage, who gave a minute nod as he turned back to his desk. Her father was the only one watching from the other side of the room as her teacher shrugged his shoulders.

“Because they’re my former cell. Cat. Rabbit. Bull. And Hawk. They’re trustworthy and good at their jobs.” Miho wanted to argue that there was no way he could know for sure, but bit it back. She didn’t want to question her teacher in front of others. He seemed to catch the flicker of doubt. “Seeing as I’m not proctoring this go-around, I think I need my adorable team to take care of their pathetically injured teacher.”

Shikamaru huffed, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Team Five is such a drag.”

Genma-sensei sobered up. “In the meantime, kid, you’re with me. Let’s go get you something to eat. We’ll get the boys to pamper us. After all, I’m still injured.” He reached forward and ruffled her hair, seeming more tired than he ever did. She saw her father look away, focusing on the ongoing discussion of invasion plans. Miho felt a pinch to the flab of her arm and turned to snap at Ino. Genma-sensei caught her and started pushing toward the door. “C’mon, Team Annoying, you’re with me too. Your Badass Chainsmoking Teacher’s beard-deep in invasion shit. Let’s go.”  

She didn’t look back when she left the office, silently wondering if this was the better twist in the story. Some part of her— some childish part— couldn’t forgive her father as easily as she’d forgiven Chōji.

She’d survived the Hokage intact, through some narrative loophole. Her father had sent her along this path. So, she didn’t look back when she left the office. It felt good as she did it. It felt like revenge.

She couldn’t help but to feel that this was just another bit of rising action.

Eventually, the story would come to collect.

It always did.

When Tetsuya and Koji arrived at Genma-sensei’s house, they were so obvious that she wanted to yell. Immediately, they were upon her, fussing at how pale she was, how dirty her hair was, how gaunt she looked. Koji was silently taking stock of Team Ten at the kitchen table, eyeing Genma-sensei’s dull stare. He checked her pulse with a casual grip on her wrist. She slapped his arm. Tetsuya spun her around before deciding that he was cooking. He took charge of their teacher’s kitchen as if it were his own.

“You two are shit at subterfuge.” Genma-sensei observed, coffee halfway to his lips. “You won’t figure it out like that.”

Koji scoffed, rolling his eyes. “We weren’t trying to be subtle, sensei.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, just barely catching himself before propping a foot on the wall. Genma-sensei raised a brow. “You were in the Hokage’s office.”

Shikamaru snorted, but didn’t open his eyes. His head remained on the table.

“What tipped you off? The smell of tobacco?” Ino questioned, waving her hand. At a loud bang in the kitchen, she giggled a bit. It was a dark sort of laugh. “Yeah, we were with the Hokage earlier.”

Miho sighed, lifting both hands to press against her face. It was only a few hours until the finals were due to start. Until the invasion was due to start. They— all of the genin— were tasked with awakening their fellow genin and getting them to the Academy, to defend or evacuate it. The ANBU guards would follow them on this task, to guard them. Miho had tried to argue with Genma-sensei about it, but he’d shut down all discussion.

Genma-sensei pressed his hand to the seal over the mantel and Miho watched as Tetsuya’s head rose on the other side of the kitchen peninsula as he sat the pan down on the stove with a dull screech. Chakra rippled around the four walls. “Sensei?”

“Today, we’ll be attacked by Oto and Suna.”

Koji lowered his arms from where they were folded and stepped away from the wall. Tetsuya’s voice was small. “What? H-How— How do we know—”

“At today’s finals, during Gaara and Sasuke’s match, they’ll attack using a genjutsu to disable the crowd. They do not know that we know what’s coming. The Hokage has the platoons prepared and all major clans are locked down.”

Miho met Koji’s eyes, not wavering.

“That’s why you got hurt. Wasn’t it?” Koji’s voice was careful.

Genma-sensei nodded. She wondered if he felt bad for lying to the boys. “I got injured getting the information to the Hokage.” While that wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the truth. Miho bit into a wrapped sweet bun, watching as her teacher’s eyes travelled to Koji’s senbon pack and then over to Tetsuya and his bandana. “Team Five will leave the arena and provide cover for the Academy, either defending or evacuating.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” Tetsuya nodded. His eyes trekked to Team Ten. “What’s Team Ten’s mission?” The underlying Why are they here? Was obvious, but Tetsuya had the good grace to busy himself in the kitchen. As if he wasn’t waiting for the answer. “Miho, you want some fried rice?”

“Make yourself at home, kid.” Genma-sensei rolled his eyes. “Team Ten has the same mission.” His emphasis was pointedly focused upon Shikamaru, who was still dozing.

She knew that Shikamaru was too hard-headed. He’d go with Naruto. Ino would go with Sakura. And Chōji would go with his teammates. She wondered if the ANBU would just follow along or step in once they realized Team Ten had no plans to follow their mission parameters. Knowing that made her hands sweat. She wanted to go with Naruto, too. To help Team Seven face Gaara. She wanted to help, but—

She swallowed the sweet bun down and pushed herself up, walking around the kitchen to Tetsuya, who had his back to her as he stirred the rice.

“You’re involved somehow. Don’t lie and say you’re not. You’re not good at lying, Chubs.” Tetsuya said, not looking at her as she leaned against the counter. He pushed the egg around before glancing to her face. “You’ve lost weight. You haven’t been eating right. Something’s wrong.”

“Tetsuya’s right.” Koji said as he rounded the peninsula into the kitchen. It seemed a bit more private now that they all were in the kitchen, with Team Ten quietly talking at the table. “Genma-sensei may’ve got hurt getting the intel to the Hokage, but you’re involved. We know it.” He moved toward her, lowering himself down a bit to look into her eyes. His nose scrunched and he rolled his eyes, moving to lean against the counter on Tetsuya’s other side. “You haven’t slept.”

Miho couldn’t help but to smile just a bit. She wondered if they knew how much she loved them. It was no better time to make that clear, on the day of an invasion. On the day when, no matter how much foreknowledge they had, they might not survive. The thought frightened her, more than the thought of being locked up for a lifetime or being tortured by the old War Hawk.

“I love you guys. You know that, right?”

The house was silent with her words.

The previous night and morning had her grappling, looking for footholds. Trying to find any consistent thing to hold onto. It felt like the stable grounding she’d always had was crumbling under her feet. She had never thought when she was younger that she would ever fear her own house. Her own home. But…Home was where her father looked at her like he didn’t know her.

Like he couldn’t understand her.

Like he never would.

Home was where everything turned on its head.

Tetsuya removed the rice from the stove’s eye and set it aside, turning to her with an expression like gravity. His lips were pressed into a firm line as he stared her down and Miho couldn’t help but to cringe back a bit at the intensity of his stare.

He noticed. And he shared a look with Koji.

“Genma-sensei, can we have a team meeting?”

They turned to find Genma-sensei standing in the hallway next to the kitchen, jerking his head toward the back of the apartment. “We’ve got a lot to cover in a small amount of time.” Miho felt a hand taking hers and she looked up to find Tetsuya already turning to pull her along. Koji followed behind, folding his arms behind his head as he moved. “Team Annoying, stay out of my stuff.”

“No promises.” Ino called back as the door to her teacher’s spare bedroom closed.

He’d outfitted it for them only a month after being given Team Five. It had three twin beds with extra outfits and materials. Extra weapons and supplies. He said it was because he couldn’t always make sure they got home after a mission. Sometimes it was just easier to have a safe place to crash after an intense mission. Said that would get worse with time.

Genma-sensei threw himself onto the small sofa on the closet wall, sighing. Koji closed the door, leaning against it as if that would be enough to stop Team Ten from crashing through it or eavesdropping.

“We love you too, Miho, but we need to know what’s going on. It’s been months since we became a team. Me and Koji, we’ve known something is different for a while, but we always…We wanted to wait until you felt comfortable telling us.” Tetsuya ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling as if pleading for patience.

Koji shifted. “We don’t gotta know. Not right now. Not with what’s happenin’ today. But someday, we’re gonna need to know.” He held Tetsuya’s eyes for a long moment before the brunette nodded.

Miho felt the breakdown coming. She felt it in the tension at the back of her neck. As if all the pressure was building there and melting down to her shoulder blades. It wrapped around her stomach until it struck. The tears came so fast that she stumbled back to the nearby bed, heavily falling onto the edge.

Koji was across the room in a blink. “What in the—”

“Genma-sensei, what the hell happened?” Tetsuya’s voice was shaking.

It was all just too much. The stress. The betrayal that still sat in her gut. The sting of distrust. How close she’d come to the cells. How close all of them had come to something terrible. How close she’d come to ruining everything. And that was just the Hokage’s impact. She’d been lucky. That luck would eventually run out. Even now, an ANBU was guarding her, somewhere out of sight. Guarding her from Danzō’s ever-present threat. Because…it was only a matter of time.

Like all things, she knew.

Like all things she knew.

“I-I can’t tell you yet. B-But I will. I promise I will. I just—” She shook her head, trying to shake away the images in her mind.

Her father, larger than the buildings of Konoha, feet thundering on the market road. Wind tearing around him. More and more Oto and Suna nin around him. But when his eyes looked to her, they were just as cold. The thrill of fear that shot through her culminated in a shiver and Miho lifted her eyes to where Genma-sensei sat. Koji’s palm pressed at her cheek and she looked up at him. He repeated the same action on the other side of her face.

“Eh, you’ll tell us when you’re ready. Until then, who do I beat up for whatever’s got you cryin’?”

Tetsuya looked over to Genma-sensei for some kind of explanation, possibly even a name and address, only to be met with two raised hands. “Suffice to say, no one you can actually hit. Yet.”

Deflating, her teammate sat on the opposite bed and pressed his hands over his face. “Is Miho in danger because of whatever this is?”

“Yeah, she is.” Genma-sensei nodded. “Miho’s in some pretty deep shit.” Miho nodded, raising her head to look over to where her teacher had scooted forward on the sofa. “One thing at a time. We’ll have a debrief after all this is settled. Until then, let’s focus on today.” She nodded along with her teammates. “Watch each other’s backs. You each have come a long way in your training. You’ll need to put it all to use today. The Chūnin Exams are a game. This is reality. This will either kill you or make you stronger.”

He pushed himself up and walked over to the closet, pulling it open. Sighing, he looked at them, repositioned the senbon between his teeth, and reached into the drawers. Miho caught what was thrown to her. She stared down at it, slowly rising to her feet beside Koji. Tetsuya mirrored them, turning to catch his the brown paper wrapped package.

“Got these a few weeks ago.”

Miho unwrapped the box to find a bracelet, black porous beads with a sequence of four different colored stones at the center. Blue, Purple, Red, Turquoise. At either end, they were encased by white beads. She brushed a finger over the beads.

“It’s obvious who the blue represents.” Koji grinned, slipping it onto his right wrist. He flipped his hair, which had gotten longer in the past month, over his ears. “These are stylin’, sensei.”

Genma-sensei rolled his eyes. “They’re shinobi bracelets, Hoss. Push chakra into the center stones and it activates a low-level chakra pulse that can be sensed by tracking summons.” Miho swallowed. ‘A few weeks ago’ was when her teacher saw the future. When he saw buildings collapsing and wars erupting. When he saw Konoha destroyed in a single blast. When he knew that they were in very real danger on the home front. “Push one-third of your reserves into it and it emits a high-level pulse that humans can sense.”

She could feel something in the air, like another shoe was about to drop. Their teacher turned to face them, looking at each of them for a long moment before removing the senbon from his lips.

“The third black bead on both sides is an amantia phalloides pill.” Miho flinched. That was an Akimichi-made death pill. How did—“The fourth is a pill recipe developed by Lady Tsunade. It suppresses pain receptors.”

A suicide pill and a torture pill.

Miho looked down to the bracelet in her palm.

How worried must Genma-sensei have been to have these made for them?  

“And…” Tetsuya’s voice shook. “And the first pill, sensei?”

“Not a pill. It’s part of Konoha. Those beads were made from a rock that fell off the mountain.” He let them look at the bracelets for a moment before returning the senbon to his mouth and rolling his shoulders. “Alright, Book Club. We’ve got finals to watch and an invasion to repel.” Miho slipped the bracelet over her right wrist and watched as Tetsuya did the same. “Stay sharp today. Stay together. Protect each other and protect Konoha.”

He moved around the bed and sat his hands on his hips.

“What is it you all say now? ‘Book Club, let’s get it.’”

“We’ll see you at the arena.” Miho waved. She’d found a reason to avoid returning to the estate, saying that she had to go find Naruto and that Genma-sensei kept a spare set of clothes at his house for the whole team after missions. But her brother gave her a sad look. Ino gave her a knowing look and Shikamaru gave her a tired look. “We’ll be there later.”

Genma-sensei stood with them as they watched Team Ten move like a unit down the road. They’d already laid out a plan for the morning. Stopping by each Clan estate to get their materials and to change clothes before the finals.

“First stop is the grill. We need to get Miho more than just some fried rice or she’ll definitely deflate later on.” Koji threw an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the closest grill on the street.

The market was already bustling with life and excitement, like the build-up to a festival. At nine, the Daimyo would arrive and different dignitaries from estates all over the Nations.

“I’ll leave you three to it. Keep to time, guys.” Genma-sensei disappeared, Flickering out of sight.

He’d be at Jōnin Command until the competition started, making sure all was prepared for the attack. It was out of her hands to protect her teacher and Aoba-sensei. She could only hope that the Hokage kept his word.

“I need to go see N—”

“Naruto, later. Food, now.”

There was no winning against that tone in Koji’s voice.

The senbon made a light ‘clink’ as it embedded into the concrete wall beside Hayate’s head. Genma had to hand it to the jerk. He was fast, probably getting faster with age. Maybe it was Yūgao keeping him on his toes. “You’re a piece of shit, Hayate. Don't do this to me.”

The guy had the nerve to cough, lifting a hand to cover his mouth.

“It wasn’t my call, Genma.”

“It was mine.” Genma looked over to see Nara Shikaku entering the office, holding out a clipboard with a rough grin. “Also, next time you wanna put new holes in my walls— don’t.” Unable to refuse the preferred clipboard, Genma grimaced when he read the names. “Whether you want to or not, you’re proctoring.”

Just barely biting back a ‘but why,’ he looked at Hayate. Hayate, who was still alive and kicking. Still alive and marrying his sweetheart. Sighing, Genma resigned himself. He was a sap. And what was worse, people were starting to figure it out.

He needed to kill somebody. Soon.

He rolled the senbon between his teeth with his tongue.

He’d get the chance in a few hours. Then, he’d make some random Suna shinobi pay. He might even make them pay for the fact that he’d put shinobi bracelets in the hands of his students that morning. His genin students. His kids now had suicide and torture pills.

Yeah, making someone a pincushion would be great.

Genma looked to Shikaku then, trying to reason through this change. The Nara raised his brows.

The Commander was giving him a chance to be in the middle of the action, to be close to his team and to protect them. Commander Nara was giving him an opportunity to protect his kids. He snapped to attention and saluted. “Not overly enthusiastic about corralling a bunch of teenagers with complexes in to-the-death matches, sir.” But thanks.

“The whole thing’s a drag if you ask me.”

“You know, you could make Raidō do it. He did get that reprimand last week.”

Shikaku just sighed. “He’s on Hokage duty along with Hayate, Maen, and Iwashi.”

“Iwashi? When’d he get back?”

“This morning. He was recalled last night.” Shikaku gave him a meaningful look before turning. Iwashi, Raidō, and Genma in the same place at the same time? It looked like the band was getting back together. Genma huffed a laugh. “Better get a move on, Shiranui. You’ve got some teenagers with complexes to wrangle.”

“Kid, you gotta work on your timing and presentation.” Genma huffed, watching as the Uzumaki was helped up by Shikamaru. The Nara looked so put-upon that Genma barely withheld a laugh. “Throw out your chests and show your faces to the spectators.” He watched as realization seemed to hit Minato’s kid like an earth jutsu. The crowd went wild, ready for a good show. “You guys are the stars of the ‘Final Round.’”

"At the very least, they could've had our names in lights." Yamanaka Ino drawled, brushing a hand at the underside of her hair.

He could feel ANBU positioning themselves around the stadium. He could sense the imposter at the top of the eastern stands. Two real ANBU were stationed near him. While people were distracted by the finals, the platoons would get into position.

With the foreknowledge Miho provided…

“Let’s go, Naruto!”

He wondered if the kid could hear her. Miho was shouting from the stands to his left. He could see her up there, throwing one fist up as she yelled. Beside her, the boys smiled up at her. Genma refocused on the Hyuuga and the Uzumaki kid.

He wondered if Naruto would ever know how much Miho did for him. How far she’d go to protect him and his future. How far she'd go and what she'd sacrifice. How far she'd go to protect her Hokage.

It frightened him when he saw it. 

Just as much as seeing Konoha shattered.

Uzumaki Naruto- the kid around which all of this revolved- reaffirmed his stance and fisted his hands. 

The war was coming. Just now, the battle would-

“Begin.”

Chapter Text

—for lower Wyandotte County until 8:00 Central Standard Time. The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for— Tornado emergency for western Kansas City and—

She turned the station, not wanting to run down her data even more by playing Spotify while streaming the radar on her phone. The screen was becoming brighter and brighter in the growing darkness as the thunderhead rolled over the sky above her car on a two-lane highway just outside of Emporia.

The piano of Elton John started to dance with the rain on her windows.

I miss the Earth so much. I miss my wife. It’s lonely out in space…

Her voice was high (as a kite), cutting up over his vocals. Her mind weaved a story along with the lyrics, even as she watched the storm roll over the fields. I think it’s gonna be a long, long time. She imagined a Martian colony, Gundams over the stars, and the possibilities of the future. A future she would never live to see, she knew. Her characters navigated it all, some with lightning in their hands and others fighting their way to resolutions. They all got happy endings.

Well, happy for those characters at least.

A bright bell-like sound broke the beat of the strings and the rush of the rain. She pressed her thumb to a button on the steering wheel, watching as lightning jumped over the horizon. “Hello?”

“Hey. You on your way home?”

“Took a little detour on the way. Took K-10 instead of—”

“Tell me you’re not chasing that storm! It’s dangerous!”

She didn’t answer, carefully changing lanes as the rain went full white-out in the falling orange sun. It could be seen on the horizon, under the shelf of clouds. Sighing, she decided to divert. “Class went really well today. I had a student come talk to me after class, said that he really thinks that they’re gonna use all of this someday. Made me really happy.” There was silence on the other end of the call and she heaved a breath. “Mom.”

“That’s great, baby. Hold on.”

“I’ll let you go. I know you’ve got work. And I’ll let you know when I get home, okay?”

“Look out for the weather. It doesn’t look good on the radar. You should’ve gone the other way. There’s a tornado warning for your county.”

She smiled when she saw lightning streak across the sky in the distance. “Love you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you. Bye.”

The last few strains of Elton John faded. And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time.

A new beat started and her hand automatically tapped the rhythm as a guitar lilted. Her voice was loud, over roll of thunder and the roar of her tires on the concrete and the beat of the rain. She sang with abandon and 70 miles per hour euphoria. “Listen to the winds blow, watch the sun rise! Run in the shadows, damn—”

Somewhere, a clock was ticking. Tick, tick, tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.  She lay there, not entirely sure how she got to that place. Her lower back was aching. Her head was aching. Her eyes felt heavy, as if they were being pull through the back of her skull. The after images of a dream flickered in the blackness of her eyelids, rushing voices and screams and whispered words. She could see faces in that darkness, but she couldn’t recognize them. People she knew. People she didn’t know. A single face in the madness and chaos, the Lord of Pandemonium. Her eyes opened and she was in the dimness of a hospital room.

The speckled ceiling overhead was a dull gray-white, with some bright yellow pouring in through the doorway. Everything seemed distant, foreign. The feel of the sheets on her palms, on her fingertips.

A steady dripping sound was to her right and there was a tightness to her hand. Her throat felt tight when she swallowed. She was sure she’d been drowning. She was sure that she’d been starved for air. She was sure she’d been hanging upside down, bound and gagged and bleeding and—

A figure was sitting by the bedside, his head rolled back and his body slouched. His hand was wrapped around a kunai that lay in his lap.

She knew him.

“Sensei,” she murmured.

He didn’t awaken and she looked to the right, toward the tightness in her hand. There was someone gripping it tightly, their forehead resting against the skin of her wrist, just above the needles. She could feel the wetness of drool on the sheets.

How long had she been asleep?

Minutes? Hours? Days?

Her muscles were stiff.

What happened?

Her free hand made its way to her throat and she scratched the base, where she felt bandages wrapped around her neck from chest to chin. The bandages were itchy. It made her want to move, to get them off. To somehow free herself. Because she had to free herself, didn’t she? She had to get out. She had to get out, right?

Jolting, she looked to Genma-sensei and willed him awake. He would explain everything. He would have the answers. He always had the answers. Her teacher, he always knew what to do. He would know what happened.

“Genma— Genma-sensei—”

The desperation was growing, and she could feel the fear building. And building and building. Like hunger in her gut. Because she could feel the water. She could feel the burn in her lungs. She could feel it all, but— Only Genma-sensei and Tetsuya were there. That meant— It meant that— Her eyes started to fill with tears before she could even comprehend the situation. Because her instincts…

“Sensei, please!”

He was awake in an instant, eyes wide and wild as he stood. His eyes scanned the room, kunai gripped tightly in his palm. She watched as he slid into a defensive stance, five senbon in his left hand as he aimed for the door. Miho flinched. He glanced down, lowering the kunai and the senbon, and the warrior abated.

He surged forward and pressed his face into the pillow beside her head, arm gently wrapping around the front of her shoulders. He was careful, careful like she would break. Like she would shatter.

“Miho. Oh my God, Miho.”

She could’ve sworn he was shaking, but she couldn’t be sure as Tetsuya’s face appeared in her peripheral vision.

His hair was down from its usual knot, falling in waves around his gaunt face, parched lips, and narrowed eyes. There was a white bandage wrapped around his forehead. He looked…terrible. And he was crying.

“You’re— You’re awake. Ch-Chubs, you’re awake.”

He was gripping her hand for dear life, as if she’d disappear if he were to loosen that hold.

“What…What happened?”

Genma-sensei pulled back and looked down with a blank expression. Miho felt her heart sputter and stop, breath catching. She could hear the scream and the sickening sound of bones breaking and she could feel someone growing colder and colder in her arms. She could feel the water, lapping upward as reality bent and broke. She could feel the burning hunger as her body consumed what it could…itself.

Everything.

“Sen-Sensei, he— he—…”

A sob and Miho bit down on her lower lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. Genma-sensei continued to stare down at her, hand brushing the top of her head as he pressed a hand to the bandages. Miho looked to Tetsuya and his grip tightened even more.

“Tetsuya, I— I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I tried so hard to— I couldn’t— I couldn’t—Where’s— Where’s Koji?”

“Miho, stop.”

She pushed her lips together and forced herself to bring everything in, to push it into her stomach. The tension rested there, festering. “It wasn’t your fault. Tetsuya saw everything. He saw what you did for them. You were very brave.”

“It wasn’t enough. None of it was enough.”

“That’s not true,” Genma-sensei countered with a shake of his head. “The Hokage is alive.” Miho tried not to flinch at his tone. “People were spared the worst of what could have happened.” She didn’t want to see the emphasis in his eyes. The emphasis that she knew Tetsuya couldn’t understand. “You took on a group of ninja so much more powerful than yourself, Miho. With odds even a seasoned kunoichi like Utatane Koharu couldn’t defeat.”

She flinched, looking over to Tetsuya’s stone-like expression.

Miho could barley remember it. She’d been sent to defend the evacuees with her teammates, but then—

“You’re a hero.”

Her head shook.

“N-No, I’m not. I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Miho, you were found unconscious with—”

“You blocked my grandmother and took the hit yourself. She died and took the rest of those jackasses with her. Miho, there were fifteen dead Suna shinobi around you and her. Ko— Koji was— He was— Don’t you remember any of it? Don’t you remember how you were attacked?”

No.

She couldn’t remember anything. Just the water and the wind and the hunger. She couldn’t remember fighting. She couldn’t remember Utatane Koharu. She couldn't remember Koji. “I…don’t remember.” Except. Except, she remembered closing her eyes. She remembered her muscles burning. She shivered, looking to Genma-sensei as reality got more and more clear as she woke up more. “Sensei, I-I don’t remember anything. N-Nothing after the genjutsu.”

“Nothing after—” Genma-sensei sat back down in the chair, letting out a long breath as he seemed to deflate into the metal arms. “Koji got you out of it. Nara and Yamanaka went with your brother to fight the team from Suna with Team Seven. They drew the demon away from the village before it could do more damage.”

Miho felt something strange crawling up her spine. It felt…odd.

The strangest sensation, like the world was off-kilter somehow. Like it was wrong. Her neck twinged.

Demon.

The world tilted and she closed her eyes, shaking her head just a bit as if reality would right itself. “Wh-Where’s Choji now?”

“Your brother’s with you father at the estate.” Miho leaned her head back onto the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. The world still seemed strange. Like it existed, but at a distance. As if she were watching this scene play out from behind a screen. Like pixels of color arranged through a signal. Two-dimensional. Miho felt flat.

“Is Ino okay?”

“Ino?” Her teacher rolled his shoulders, eyes going a bit vague over her head. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Yeah. She’s safe. She, the Nara, and your brother returned safely. No issues. It seems that your foreknowledge saved them many problems. Speaking of, it saved the Hokage as well. Konoha was saved because of you. We can avoid so much destruction--”

Foreknowledge.

Miho jerked her head around to Tetsuya, only to find that he was not there. The world leaned and Miho felt short of breath, trying to lift a hand to her throat. Only, her hands were restrained to the bed. Leather straps had wrapped around her wrists. Heart pounding, she looked to where Genma-sensei lazed in the chair. His eyes were dull and gold, not their usual warm brown.

“You’re well-trained and well-fortified. I will give my cousin her due praise.”

“W-What?”

The hospital scene faded and Miho felt herself free-falling until her eyes opened and she blinked in dimness. Her body ached and she could feel that her right leg was in a strange contortion. Something that she couldn’t feel. Miho fell backward, upper shoulders slamming into a wall as she fell. Her leg couldn’t hold her weight. The chains clattered, a metal cacophony that echoed down a long, hard-rock hallway. Above her, a teen stood and brushed off his vest.

There was no expression on his face. No flicker of anything in his eyes.

No hate. No malice. No mercy. No compassion.

Nothing.

Miho’s muscles flinched as if recognizing his presence without even recognizing who he was.

A puppet. A puppet with red hair. Dead gold eyes.

She’d seen him for years.

“Yamanaka Fū.”

His blink was slow and assessing. “My cousin has laid so many defenses in your mind over her years venturing into it. Some that I’m sure you could never understand. So many you can’t have even known about.”

Shifting her weight, Miho gritted through the pain that lanced up her hip from her awkwardly angled knee. It was surely broken, swollen to a grapefruit size now that she could see it in the distant firelight. She’d obviously been in a battle. There was blood coated over her yukata, matted with dirt and sweat. Her weapons were gone, so was half her body weight.

“Did— Did you grab me during the attack?”

She didn’t expect to get a response.

“Eventually, her defenses will fall. Lord Danzō will know what you know.”

Miho huffed a laugh that sounded more like a cough. Of course, Ino put fail-safes in her head.

Ino had likely made her mind a maze of traps and false realities. False memories.

To give her mind comfort. To give it protection.

Each new mental reality she got thrown into, the mind-invader got pulled along as well, derailed from his mission. Each one, he integrated into. He inhabited the faces of her mind. Each time, he tried to get the answers he wanted. Each time, he failed.

Ino’s protections were trying to soften the invasion of Miho’s mind, to give her something to cling onto. One day, Ino would be the Head of Torture and Interrogation. Vaguely, Miho wondered if that future would remain intact if she knew that her protective tactics were used like this. Miho had never experienced torture.

She was sure she was enduring it now.

“You don’t know Ino.”

Miho let her head lean back against the wall, feeling her stomach grumble. Torture for an Akimichi was made worse by hunger, by starvation. She wasn’t sure how long she’d gone without food. With her body’s new weight, it had to be weeks.

“Go ahead then.” She sighed, letting her eyes slide shut. “Let’s go on another adventure. Me and you. Maybe Ino will have us—”

“Lord Hokage, sir.”

“Report.”

“It’s as we suspected. Gaara gave us support in the end. The mission was a success, but…Lord Hokage, there was a casualty.”

The Hokage lifted his head and the ANBU watched. The Hokage’s lips pulled into a grim line, the light flickering behind his blue eyes. Slowly, he sat back in his chair, bracing his arms on the rests at his sides. The ANBU tried not to flinch. “Who?”

The ANBU hesitated before sighing, reaching up to remove the mask. As the Bear mask was taken from the ANBU’s face, a tumble of wild, curly hair fell from a top-knot on her head. Miho sighed tiredly, drawing a hand over the mask. Her father’s mask. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t. Not then. Not there.

Not in front of him.

“Koji.”

Naruto looked up sharply, concern overtaking his clear blue eyes. Miho tried not to flinch. She’d already overstepped, taking off the mask as she did. But…She needed her friend.

She needed—

“Are you… No, of course you’re not okay.” His voice was steady, calm. His eyes. They always seemed like the surest way to know what he was thinking, how he was feeling. The eyes that she’d seen in faraway dreams of an older Naruto, a good-hearted Hokage. Her Hokage. “What do you need? What can I do?”

Miho lifted a hand to press it to her forehead. It ached, throbbing from the loss of food, the loss of a friend, of a family member. She didn’t know how she would tell Tetsuya. Or Genma-sensei. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

She moved to one of the chairs at the side of the room, lowering herself down as gently as she could upon it. Her weight— though less than it had been before her mission— was still enough to crack that ancient chair if she put too much force into falling upon it. Naruto had it brought up from storage when he became Hokage, just in case his guard or any other Akimichi ever needed a sturdy seat.

Miho sat on it more often than she had any right to. Though, she supposed, Shikamaru took the cake for lazing about on the sofa nearby. Since Sasuke was out more often than in, he had no designated seat in the office. Instead, he skulked about, glaring at any chairs that were sat out for him. It'd been months since she'd last seen him. 

And she'd never see Koji again.

She felt distant, from everything. From the loss. From the pain.

She should feel more, shouldn’t she?

“He took the hit. I don’t— I wasn’t quick enough. And I’m one of the fastest in the nations, Naruto. That jackass was just faster.”

Naruto nodded, eyes squeezing closed. “Man, I— and the wedding was so soon.” Miho nodded solemnly, not able to take her eyes off the hardwood floors. Her hands wound about each other. How would she tell Tetsuya?

How could she?

“Couldn’t you have just seen it coming?”

Miho stilled, looking over at Naruto. That was never how her foreknowledge worked. That was never how the Images worked. She told him years ago. He knew that. He would never bring it up now. Not when she was hurting like this. Besides, all of those times had passed. She swallowed, eyes flickering toward the village beyond the windows of that old office.

“So, your knowledge doesn’t extend this far into the future.”

The voice coming from Naruto’s moving mouth was not his own. His eyes trickled gold, like the sun under a rainstorm, and Miho felt the world crumble to pieces, swirling around a drain that dragged her back into her bruised body again. Back into the darkness.

And back to the same Yamanaka and the same hand upon her head.

Once more, she felt the push into her mind.

She didn’t have the strength to resist.

She hadn’t had the strength for days.

It was all Ino’s web of defenses.

And Miho wondered how many times she’d watch her friends die, her family die. How many times she’d die—before all of this ended.

Once again, she fell into a dream.

Or a nightmare.

There was something haunting about seeing him. It was like looking into a mirror in a lot of ways that Kakashi really didn’t want to interrogate. Still, he could see the same sort of disconnect, the same sort of…fear. And really, honestly, Kakashi didn’t want to get involved.

He had his own shit to deal with. Sasuke’s apparent upcoming defection, which he wasn’t entirely sure had been diverted. Naruto’s obsessive search for a friend that was “not dead.” And Sakura’s sudden fixation on Tsunade.

Not to mention his “foolish engagement with Uchiha Itachi,” as described by the Third Hokage himself. As if he didn’t have enough nightmare fuel to last a lifetime.

He really didn’t have time for all of this…and Genma, too.

But there he was, handing the jerk a bottle of water and trying not to look at the prone body of the guy’s student in a hospital bed. On the other side of the room, Gai was sickeningly quiet. Kakashi always found Quiet Gai to be more disconcerting than nearly anything in the world.

“Any word?”

Genma’s shoulders sagged as he took a swig of water, nodding his thanks. “Lady Tsunade said he’ll make it.”

Kakashi looked down at the Utatane heir’s bruised face and the stitched gash that cut up his left cheek. One day, the kid might like those scars, but Kakashi knew that time would be a long way off. Genma’s weird student— because Team Five was weird—would see it as a failure. Pity wasn’t an emotion that the Copy-Ninja frequented, but he felt it prick at his heart. Poor kid.

“Naruto’s…not giving up.”

Shiranui was silent, rolling his senbon between his teeth as he capped the water bottle.

“Nah, he wouldn’t, would he?”

“There’s no word.” Gai finally said. It was in That Tone. The tone that held so much weight that Kakashi, nor anyone else for that matter, could ever ignore it. “No results on the search.”

“The trail’s gone cold.”

He wondered if he was twisting the kunai when Genma finally looked at him, eyes carefully devoid of emotion. Shiranui was a top-notch assassin. He was collected under pressure, cool in stressful situations. He was an ANBU Captain at one time in his career. One of the best. One of the Hokage’s most trusted. But now?

Now, he was a teacher with no students.

One bed-ridden and unconscious.

One missing.

One dead.

“I’d know if there had been word.”

Kakashi held up his palms. “Figured they were keeping you at a distance.”

“Yes, friend. After what happened, we believed it best that you—”

“I’m ‘at a distance’ because I choose to be ‘at a distance.’ Doesn’t mean I’m out of the loop.”

There was a sharpness to his tone that told Kakashi to drop it. So, he did. He turned on his heel and walked to the door, drawing his book from his pocket as he went. But something didn’t feel right. He wasn’t one for empty words or promises. Promises didn’t have a way of working out for him or for anyone he knew.

He caught Gai’s eyes and Gai shook his head, warning him not to say it. Because Gai had good senses, but Kakashi had never listened to Gai’s good senses before.

“She’s not dead.”

Genma stared at him for a long moment before reaching up to take the senbon from his mouth. “Knowing where she is and what she must be going through…I almost wish she were.”

three weeks earlier

The Third Hokage was alive. Miho watched from below as she ANBU carried him to safety. She watched as Tsunade appeared atop a giant slug as Jiraiya battled the Second Hokage hand-to-hand. The earth quaked beneath Miho’s feet and she steadied herself with her naginata, turning to see yet another group of Oto shinobi approaching. The last of the civilians disappeared around the corner along with the rest of the escort.

Dragging a sleeve over her forehead to mop up the sweat, she glanced toward Koji and grinned. “You up for a combo, Hoss?”

“Hell yeah.” He nodded, shaking out his arms before falling into a crouch. “Think they’ll win against that Snake Jerk?”

Miho shrugged her shoulder, throwing herself to the right and pushing her chakra into her muscles. She could feel the bones rearranging, moving until she was a large sphere hurtling down the dirt road. She felt something hit the ground in front of her and launched into the air, grinning when Koji’s senbon rained down upon the Oto nin as they were distracted by her approach.

“Tetsuya shouldn’t’ve run off with Neji.”

“They needed to rescue Hinata. He'll be fine.” Miho rolled to a stop beside him, crouched down in the middle of the road as two more Oto nin arrived. Sighing, she glanced around before looking up at her teammate. “I’m getting tired. This has got to stop at some point right? The Hokage’s alive. Heck, Tsunade is he—”

The blood struck her face, making her eyes shut in reflex.

When her eyes opened again, it was to Koji’s face.

The two Oto nin were dead.

His mouth opened, moving as if to form words, but no sound came out. Instead, blood coated the inside edges of his lips. Miho looked down to see a blade protruding from his stomach. The figure behind him withdrew the tanto and she barely had time to turn and block the blow, but that wasn’t enough. She recognized the headpiece and goggles from the Images.

Muscles seizing, Miho glanced down to her leg to see one of the attacker’s feet striking the knee backward. She bit back a scream as the bones broke, shattering on contact. It burned more than anything, but she forced the pain away. There was no time for it.

Where was the ANBU guard?

Koji fell into the dirt next to her. She swept her naginata around, watching as the attacker stepped back by one step, then two. Like he had all the time in the world. Miho glanced back to see if any reinforcements were in line-of-sight.

No one.

No one would be on this side of the Hokage-level battle in the middle of the village.

He shouldn’t have been allowed this close.

If the ANBU guard was still alive then—

She realized two things very quickly: she was never going to escape him and there was no help coming. Not if she didn’t do something about it. And she didn’t have much chakra left without making some sacrifices.

“Mi—”

She turned, making a decision that she knew could and would cost her everything.

“Koji!”

His eyes were glassy and his chest heaving, as if he couldn’t get enough air. Her eyes met his and she knew. He knew. Her hand struggled across the space toward his, but she felt something sting on her neck. When she reached up, she pulled her hand away to find a tiny beetle. The world began to quake and shiver.

No time.

She set the beetle on the ground and reached into her pocket, discreetly pushing two flavored pills into her mouth at once. It was not the greatest of ideas, but desperate times… Koji’s eyes were wide and she could see the fear in them. Fear for her. Not fear for himself.

She felt the chakra breaking down the fat and the energy flowing into her limbs, energy pouring our of every pore. She’d never seen the chakra she emitted before, but Chōji once told her that it was golden. Miho turned, ignoring the way the world swam around her.

Torune—Aburame Torune— observed. He didn’t move, didn’t make any effort to disable her as she pushed to her feet. The knee gave way, but she propped it beneath her.

“I figured my abduction…would be more…secretive.”

He said nothing, simply watching. She held the naginata tightly and huffed, feeling the energy building and building. Two pills felt like an adrenaline rush, like what Gai always described of the Eight Gates. Like what Lee told her each gate felt like when it opened.

Miho knew there wasn’t much time. Not much time at all.

Sliding her hand up the naginata in a quick move— her family’s blood giving her the speed to do it— Miho’s hand caught the blade and, with a pained gasp, she slammed her hand into the ground.

“Ninja Art: Summoning Jutsu!”

The brown smoke was thick and smelled of salt and burning leaves. Her body quaked as she chakra spilled from her like the blood out of Koji’s body. His chest was still heaving, glassy eyes still watching her. She pushed all of her chakra into her legs, fortifying them so that she could body-flicker in front of Shinrin.

“Get Koji out of here, Shinrin. Hurry!”

Torune moved.

Without the fat-stored chakra that was coursing through her coils, Miho would’ve never been able to meet him head-on. She threw herself forward, knowing that the cracks she felt in her knee would never be repaired. Flipping her naginata around, she flew into a roll, sweeping the blade over his armored chest.

Shinrin hadn’t questioned her orders and had Koji thrown over her back as she ran down the road toward the Hokage’s battle. Miho side-stepped a blow, barely avoiding a blade to the stomach when she felt another pinch on her throat. Reaching up, she pulled another beetle away. The world spun, bright lights and shadows blurring. Burning.

Her body was burning.

Her arms wouldn’t move and her fingers held no more strength.

The naginata clattered to the ground.

Chapter Text

Genma met the kid’s unwavering blue eyes.

When Miho’s memories first entered his head, he thought that her love for Uzumaki Naruto rivaled her love for her own brother. It certainly overtook her love for Konoha. Her devotion to him was probably unhealthy, when Genma really considered it. And he recognized that it was a protective side of him that thought that. Because, ultimately, if Miho died, it would be because of Naruto. Even where she was now, it was because of Uzumaki Naruto.  

And, despite everything he knew, Genma understood.

He knew Kushina. He knew Minato. He knew how magnetic they were, and, strangely enough, their son inherited that same magnetism. He drew people in without realizing.

So much so that Miho was fully willing, even at her young age, to lay down her life for his. An almost-thirteen-year-old martyr. 

She likely was doing just that—dying for him, wherever she was.

Genma fisted his hand out of the kid’s sight, rolling the senbon between his teeth.

But frankly, he didn’t want to deal with Naruto at the moment. As much as Genma tried to believe otherwise, more often than not, Naruto had to be dealt with. On so many levels. He gritted his teeth until his jaw popped. Kakashi was an idiot. Even if the damn Uchiha was still in the village, with Orochimaru “dead” and “gone,” Naruto was desperate for some kind of stability.

And the kid was looking for it in people outside of his team.

It was with a vague, tired sort of irritation that Genma swore petty vengeance of Hatake Kakashi— because the dog-faced prick was a damned idiot. Didn't the guy realize that kids needed support structures? Did he realize that his kids needed help coping? 

Well, no, strike that. Kakashi would never realize something like that.

Genma sighed. Damn it.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Short Stuff?”

Naruto grimaced and shifted, scuffing a sandal at a black mark on the linoleum. His eyes fell to the floor and he seemed to think through his words. A lot more caution than Genma had come to expect out of him. Miho had told him, shown him, time and again, that Naruto was not the hellion he appeared to be. It seemed the kid was going to drop the act. Finally, the blond lifted his head, determination in his eyes.

“We’ll get her back, Genma-sensei. I’ll make sure we do. Believe it.”

Caught a little off-guard, Genma pulled the senbon from his lips and frowned. The kid didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t know how many shinobi were trying to get her back already. How many S-rank ninja were trying to come up with some kind of feasible plan. A plan that may doom the village in the process. “It’s not that easy, kid. We don’t even know where she is or if she’s alive.”

Both of those things were lies.

She was in Danzō’s base.

They knew where that was.

They’d known for days.

The Fifth Hokage had to tread lightly, carefully. Genma forced the tenor of anger that echoed around his heart. 

And his student was probably alive— because she was more useful alive.

“What happens when resources run out?”

At least, that was what Genma hoped.

In the back of his mind, though, he also hoped she was dead. He’d seen what torture did to people. He watched first hand when friends returned from captivity in Iwagakure. How their eyes were vacant, how they lost touch with reality. How shattered they were. She had the bracelet. He wondered if he’d given her something to ease the pain. Some respite. He wondered if he'd already helped her escape. Just, maybe, in a way that was more...permanent. Did she still have it?

Naruto took two steps forward, filled with a sort of righteousness that any other person might’ve felt either chastised or swayed. Genma just looked on, tiredly watching the show. “She’s alive! I know she’s alive! I would know if she was dead. And she’s not! Miho is the strongest! She's the strongest. And I told her I’d— I told her I’d—” Genma let out a breath, watching as the kid struggled to say it.

Naruto had promised to protect her.

She’d told her team that, with that easy smile she wore when she was content or humored. She knew she’d be protecting him more than he could ever protect her. At least for a while. Until the kid came into his own.

Sighing, Genma shook his head. “Kid, you’ve got other things to worry about.”

Namely, his impending departure with the Toad Sage.

Namely, Itachi’s sure-to-come torture of his teammate.

Namely, Uchiha Sasuke’s impending break from reality.

Naruto’s jaw obviously clenched and, jōnin or no, Genma shivered at the rush of raw chakra that rippled in the room. A shiver ran down his spine. It was only intensive ANBU training that kept him from going on-guard. Instead, his expression hardened. 

“Get it together, Uzumaki Naruto. This isn’t the time for a tantrum.”

The chakra exploded and then subsided just ask quickly as it’d come, settling back down as Naruto’s shoulders rounded and his head lowered. With practiced ease, Genma stood and busied himself in straightening out Tetsuya’s sheets, ignoring the way Naruto’s shoulders were shaking and the smallest sobs that tore at the silence of that damn hospital room.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Genma-sensei.”

He lifted his head, looking at the blond that Miho was willing to die for. The blonde that her brother was avoiding like the plague. The blonde that had saved Konoha from a fellow jinchuriki. All of the fight, all of the anger, flooded from Genma and he eased himself down into the chair by Tetsuya's bedside. 

“It’s not your fault, Naruto. None of this is your fault.”

It was the Third’s fault.

Danzō’s fault.

It was Chōza’s fault.

Damn it, it was Chōza’s fault.

Hell, Genma thought. It’s my fault.

“She’s alive. I kn-know she is.”

Genma bit the inside of his cheek, settling the senbon at the corner of his lips. He looked down to Tetsuya's pale face, ignoring how desperately he wanted to believe the kid's words. “Ok, Naruto. Ok.”

Shikamaru heaved in a breath and watched his father move the piece.

As tired as he was, he couldn’t shake the feeling. The feeling that his father was withholding information. Like it was sitting on the tip of his father’s tongue. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. It was an irritating, niggling feeling that pricked underneath his skin. Sighing, he slid the pawn forward, sacrificing it to his father’s general. He stared at the piece, at the reddish undertone of the wood. 

It reminded him a little too much of that scarf she wore.

“Are you going to make my friend a pawn?”

His father didn’t answer, leaning forward to push forward another pawn. And that only confirmed what Shikamaru had already guessed. His father knew something. Something related to Miho's abduction. He was consciously not taking the pawn Shikamaru had sacrificed. He was consciously not destroying the 'Miho-pawn.'

Damn it.

“She already is a pawn. Isn’t she?”

His father cut him a look.

Miho'd been a pawn her whole life. He knew that. What was likely worse...She knew that. Her knowledge made her more of a pawn than a player. She was smart, but not smart enough to out-maneuver anyone. Instead, she relied on him. Shikamaru felt the irritation bubbling under his skin. Miho was a pawn and he was a player. He moved a castle. 

Ino had been unbearable for weeks. While her rage— and it was rage— was justified, it was also tiresome. Day-in and day-out, she threw herself further and further into her training. Shikamaru kinda wondered if she’d ever emerge from her training again, even if Miho somehow survived. As if being able to disrupt an enemy’s mind chakra would’ve made a difference. As if being able to possess an enemy from two feet closer… Shikamaru sighed.

Who was he kidding? Two feet closer could make all the difference.

He knew that better than anyone.

Just like how his father was trying to lead him into a trap.

Two traps.

Three traps.

“Inoichi told me.” His father’s voice was controlled, careful. Shikamaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes, moving another piece. The gravity in his voice was grating. “Trees cannot grow without roots.”

A sick feeling roiled in Shikamaru’s gut. He raised his eyes from the board to stare at his father’s haggard face. The vest that sat over his shoulders felt heavier somehow. Were they trying to somehow justify Root’s existence? Shikamaru blinked slowly, steadying his bearings. He tried not to look down at the reddish pawn. “Yeah, but if the roots are rotten, the tree will die anyway.”

His father nodded and something uncoiled in his chest. Good. So, they weren’t trying to justify. “Inoichi’s knowledge only goes so far regarding trees. We all know he's more of a flower boy.” We have prisoners in T&I. Inoichi’s been working them. “He says we can save some of the trees in the forest if we act quickly to change the conditions of the soil.” Shikamaru let out a breath at the coded message, looking out at the lawn and, beyond, at the Nara Forest. “He and I are discussing it with the Akimichi tonight, since they provide our planting soil.”

Chōji had been quiet, withdrawn, convinced it was entirely his fault. To some degree, it probably was. While no one blamed him, his best friend blamed himself. And his father. And, to some degree, Naruto. Shikamaru hadn't visited the Akimichi estate in days, not quite willing to deal with the heavy air that lingered around the compound there. An air of grief and anger. 

Miho wasn't even dead yet. 

It'd be stupid to kill her.

No, Shikamaru was pretty sure Akimichi Miho was still alive. 

"Considering the Akimichi control the soil..." Shikamaru watched his father's expression for any sign that his guess was correct. So, he was right. The ramped-up imports following the Invasion were part of an Akimichi political maneuver. More resources were flooding in from outlying Akimichi-run farms.

If the Akimichi decided to stop importing, then Konoha would be in famine. 

The Akimichi Clan Head was making veiled threats. 

Those threats would never work. Danzō would never care for the people of the village. 

"That would be why we're talking to them." 

“Yeah? Sounds like a drag. Do I gotta go?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

Shikamaru sighed, lowering his head into his hands. “Chōji and Ino gotta go too?”

“Yeah.” His father’s eyes cut toward the edge of the lawn, to the treetops. Shikamaru kept his response carefully concealed. They were being watched. His father was making it very obvious that he saw it. “It’s a lot of boring talk, but as the heir, you need to know how to care for the forest.”

Shikamaru lifted his head and moved his piece, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

For the rest of the game, the reddish pawn piece stayed in place. It never moved once.

She had no weapons. No tools. Nothing that would be useful in escaping. Even her fat stores were nearly consumed, too busy keeping her alive for weeks with minimal caloric intake. Even after two pills, she had just enough to survive. Just enough not to outright kill her. Supplemented by Danzō’s goons. Miho wondered, during what must’ve been her second week of captivity, whether Danzō was now trying to starve her into submission.

He underestimated her stubbornness.

And Ino’s skills.

And her fat stores.

Still, she knew that none of those things would last much longer.

Danzō was a man with a long game. Miho knew she’d lose that game eventually.

She was guarded at all times, but one. Each time. Whenever Yamanaka Fu left her alone, a Root operative was positioned at the door of the cell, a silent ghost-like presence. But they wouldn't arrive for another two minutes after Yamanaka Fu left. She often wondered if a pale artist was somewhere in the base. She could remember him, from the Images. Sai. She could remember so much more than she ever could before. Her mind, while locking down upon itself, was unraveling.

Her mind was no longer constellations of stories.

That was simplistic.

Her mind was now a galaxy. So many stars and stories that she could barely distinguish one from the next. They overlapped, melded together in some sort of cosmic mix-up.

Her body was bruised. Her knee was damaged beyond repair. Miho figured there was no real hope of rescue. For the Hokage— Third or Fifth, it didn’t really matter— to stage a rescue, Danzō would need to be removed first or they’d risk all-out war. No Root agent could directly disobey Danzō’s orders. Nor could they speak of his atrocities.

Not to mention all the political power that Danzō wielded.

A rescue wasn’t likely. Wasn’t possible.

There was no Chōji coming to save her.

No clan. No father.

No Shikamaru.

No Ino.

No Team Five.

No Genma-sensei.

No Naruto.

"You will succumb to me. Soon. Very soon." 

At nearly three weeks into captivity, as Yamanaka Fu walked from her cell and her body fell onto the rough cot that had been given to her, Miho recognized a single fact:

If she wanted to survive, she’d have to save herself.

When she’d been hanging upside down in that car on the side of K-10, her chest punctured by the steering column and wind swirling, she hadn’t been able to save herself. She didn’t even have the strength to press the button for help. She’d just dangled there, waiting for the end. Her arms had gone numb and then her legs and her chest and then everything.

But, in this life, she still felt.

She could feel the buzz of energy just underneath her skin.

She could try.

Her fingers rolled the beads on her bracelet. Remarkably, they didn’t take it. And it rested on her dirty skin like a vice. An easy death was an option. Lack of pain was an option. But, Miho couldn’t commit to either. She’d made a promise to Team Five to avoid using the suicide pill at all costs, and all of her options weren’t yet gone.

She’d been thinking of this for days.

Or a week. Miho wasn’t sure.

Time was irrelevant in that cell.

Miho didn’t have enough for an expansion or for any other heavy-hitting battle techniques. None of those techniques would work. She'd never make it out. Never make it to the surface.A summon usually cost at least half of her chakra reserve. 

All that was left was the blood in her veins, the weight she had left, and a Hail Mary choice.

(She remembered game days. Things were floating to the surface, as if they’d been held under water for so long. Decayed bits of leaves and memories. She went to games when she was young— bright colors and bands and loud celebrations. Her father loved them. A team with feathers.)

She had no conception of time in that cell. All notion of time was taken from her. Miho lived in other worlds with other times, day and night existed at the same time. In that cell, she was both alive and dead. Schrodinger’s kunoichi. She shouldn’t remember obscure theories when she couldn’t even remember her own name or the name of her mother there. Or her father’s name, there. Still, she was alive and dead.

The other lives...

And she was desperate.

And she saw a way out.

Pushing herself upright, Miho lowered herself down to the floor, careful not to bend her right leg. It would never be the same. She knew that. It never would and she never would, if she survived. Which wasn’t likely. Like a lot of things. Survival was a far off hope.

And Miho wanted to survive.

She wanted to see so much. Do so much. Experience so much that she’d missed in other lives. Other places. Other times. Other worlds. She still had a life to live. Together, with her friends. Her team. Her family.

Miho would give it her best shot, and have nothing to regret otherwise.

Lifting her right hand, she bit into her thumb and watched the blood swell and fall to her dirty palm. The grit of dirt mixed the copper of her blood in her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut, saying a silent prayer. Because she had to believe in something.

Like the hope that her father and mother, both sets from both places, were watching her. Her grandparents, from both worlds. All of the worlds. Guarding her. Helping her. Giving her strength.

“Make it count, honey.”

She rocked onto her good knee and slammed her hand into the floor. Her breath rattled in her chest as her chakra stores shrank to next-to-nothing. Every muscle ached and the strangest pull tore through her chest as she fell back into the edge of the cot as the smoke cleared. Her remaining fat stores shriveled. She could hear, somewhere in the distance, the tip-tap of approaching footsteps. It seemed to echo. It seemed louder, somehow.

“Lady Miho!”

Delicacy. Patience. Miho shook, handing a bit of metal over to the tiny bear cub that stared up at her. The little one’s claw scratched at her palm as he took it. The footsteps were nearly to the cell. “Go.”

“But you’re—”

“Go. Now.”

The cub puffed into smoke and Miho let out a quivering breath, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as the gate to the cell was drawn open. Despite how tired she was, Miho found the energy to smile a bit. Her arms felt numb. The same sensations she’d felt before. So many times before. And Miho knew what was coming. But still, she just smiled as Yamanaka Fu entered the cell, towering over her as her chest rattled.

“You…wanted to know…what happened to your…friend.” Miho forced it out as he knelt down, hands glowing green over her chest as he pushed chakra into her coils. She felt it burn. She jerked a hand up and grabbed his wrist. Weeks, he’d been in her head. Weeks, he’d been forcing her to stay alive, pumping her full of chakra. She knew him now. More than he ever wanted her to know him. He knew her, more than she ever wanted to...

“He dies before you. He dies.”

Just as the dark was pushing into her eyes, she felt a pull in her stomach.

Ki—the Great Bear, the Thunder Bear, the Bear of the Center Mountain— hurried forward. His deep blue robes swung about behind him like a storm. His youngest cub had gone to their summoner after a long time of silence, only to find her near death. She’d given his littlest one a small plate of metal with a message etched crudely into the surface. Metal on metal. Carefully scratched kanji. 

So, the Great Bear summoned Okuda Keisuke's daughter to the Center Mountain.

She appeared there in the reception hall, emaciated and thin like a scarecrow. She was just barely breathing, chest rattling with death. Okuda Miho— Little Akimichi Miho— was nearly translucent as her glazed eyes stared up at him. For a moment, he saw her mother. He saw the sweet Chisato, belly round with child, and Keisuke's giddy smile. The girl collapsed as if she were a marionette with her strings severed. Ki bounded forward.

“Summon Ha now!” Drawing the Little One into his forepaws, he rushed from the reception hall and into the bright green and gold writ town on the Center Mountain. His clan members paused in their tasks, looking to him in surprise. He was never a fast bear if he did not have to be. “Tsuyoi, call Shinrin to the Healers Den at once!” The bulking form of his nephew disappeared, quick as shadow.

He wondered, as every great protector might, what led to the girl’s condition. Captivity, certainly. Torture, most likely. Her skin was falling in flaps, fat drained at too quick a pace. Her chakra was nearly gone, the smallest wisp keeping her alive. Even that may not sustain her long. Ki bounded into the Healers Den, settling the girl on the wooden table of Healer Ha, who ambled up, brushing gray fur out of his old eyes.

“What have we here? What have we here? A human?”

Ha’s eyes narrowed before he looked up to Ki’s enormous height.

Before his grandfather, he was as a cub once more. He lowered his mighty head, pressing a paw to the girl’s left shoulder. She showed no signs of consciousness. “She sent us a note. Used the last of her chakra to summon Fuwa.”

The Grandfather of the Bears lent down, pressing his snout to her chest before blowing out a rush of air. His hackles rose. “The girl is Keisuke’s daughter.” Before Ki could confirm his words, Ha flew into action, raising both gnarled forepaws to rest over the girl’s form. They glowed a pale green with the chakra Ha pushed into her system. “Her coils are damaged.” When Ki saw the flash of anger in his grandfather’s ancient eyes, the Thunder Bear wondered what the girl had endured.

“Damaged coils?”

“Foreign chakra has burned her coils.” Healer Ha growled, fanning both paws over her. “She’s been sustained this way for at least a week, perhaps more. By an ignorant field medic. They did not plan for her to survive. Merely, to survive long enough.” The Bear Grandfather let loose a frustrated and angered breath as his paws traveled to linger over her head and her knees. "He knee is irreparable and..." After a moment, the Great Healer Ha let out a roar. 

Despite himself, Ki jolted at the sudden yell. "What-?"

"Father, what is... My Lady!" 

Shinrin bounded into the room, arriving to the summoner's other side. Ki ignored his daughter's whimpering and worrying, instead focusing on the way his grandfather's green-lit paws came to rest over the girl's head. His thick, bushy brows furrowed in concentration even as his snout drew back in a snarl. 

"Father--"

"This girl has been tortured. To within a mere wisp of her life. We shall discuss more later." The snarl faded and the old bear's shoulders sagged. "She needs a chakra infusion or she will not make it through the next moon." 

Shinrin, his lovely daughter, his first cub, a protector in her own right who had lost her own charges once before, stepped forward. Her long teeth were bared and she dipped her great head forward. "Take my chakra, Grandfather Ha." 

Healer Ha turned to Lord Ki and the Great Bear felt his hackles rise. To give a human such chakra was against the Old Ways that many summons prided themselves in following. However, Lord Ki had seen many human millennia. He'd watched as the Old Ways passed away. To give Okuda Miho such chakra would be to make her part of the Bear Clan. She would become a Bear in energy, a wardeness of the Center Mountain, as true as any full-furred relative. It would bring her hardships; it would bring her pain. His dark eyes cut over to Shinrin's desperate stare. Her claws tapped on the beaded belt she wore. 

And he remembered: Keisuke kneeling before him. Keisuke taking up the last remnants of the Okuda legacy. Keisuke, so very happy to be expecting a cub of his own. Keisuke, with that Akimichi girl. Keisuke, with the cub's den decorated in little bears. 

Keisuke, who was no longer able to protect his cub. 

Lord Ki felt the weight of centuries and traditions weigh his shoulders down. 

"Do it. Just do it, Healer Ha." 

"The ramifications will be--"

"It matters not. Give her the energy of Center Mountain." Lord Ki moved to set himself at the edge of the healing chamber, watching as his cub lay her head on the opposite table. It was a delicate process, a careful and intricate technique. It would take hours. It would take days. "Let this not be a mistake." The Great Bear hoped that, somewhere in the human spirit world, that Keisuke was listening. 

Chapter Text

He unfolded the picture. It was a little worn now. He looked at it too often, so the edges were fraying and worn. Part of him knew that he had to put it away eventually, in a frame, so he’d always have it preserved. He just wasn’t there yet. The faces on the picture were too familiar now, too comforting. He needed those faces now more than ever.

Next to his parents— Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina— were two of their friends. A tall, big-bodied man with a really big smile and really, really warm eyes and a woman with soft features and a familiar grin. Okuda Keisuke and Akimichi Chisato, Miho’s parents. He shuddered, running a quivering finger over their faces.

They died. All of them.

He and Miho had sat up late one night, after she’d cooked him a big meal, and brought him even more food, too. After she’d told him about his parents and given him something that he’d never had before. They talked about how close their parents were, how much’d be different if they lived. Miho’d reached up and held his hand from her pallet on the floor. He remembered that her dark eyes seemed to glow from the moonlight coming in through the window.

“Our parents were friends, Naruto. We’ll be even better friends than them, I think. We’ll be stronger than them too. I believe that.”

Naruto swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat, rolling his shoulders as he folded the picture and put it into the pocket of his jacket. After a long moment, he stood and looked toward the monument. His father’s face stared out into nothing above him. He wondered if his father would understand.

Miho— his friend— was still out there somewhere. It didn’t seem right.

He couldn’t let that go anymore. No matter what anyone said.

With a sigh, he reached up to adjust his forehead protector.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Jolting at the voice, Naruto turned to see Nara Shikamaru emerging from the shadows, hands hooked into his pockets. The guy looked exhausted, dark bags resting under his narrowed eyes. “Just— Just what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“Stopping you from doing something troublesome, apparently.” Naruto felt his shoulders tense and tried to look as nonchalant as he could. Because really…he wasn’t up to anything. Nah, not him. Super innocent. Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “You are so obvious.”

“No, I’m not!” Gulping down a wave of anxiety at the deadpan look he received, Naruto heaved a laugh, scratching at the back of his head. “Nah! I’m just out and…and about for a stroll! I like scrolls— strolls! Needed one after that stupid fight with the bas— jerk— with Sasuke today! What’s his deal anyway?” He laughed a bit before feeling the sensation of dullness overtake the panic. It overtook everything, when it had enough power. Naruto’s laughter faded away and he looked at Shikamaru’s patiently impatient face. “Okay, fine.”

“You fought with Sasuke?”

Naruto shrugged. “Yeah, he challenged me. He was pretty determined, and I didn’t want to hurt—”

“Shit. Those idiots.” Shikamaru turned, a determined set to his shoulders. “Come on.”

“What— Why? I’ve—I’ve got things to do.”

“You’re not chasing down Miho tonight. Don’t be a drag and come on. We’ve got somewhere to be. I didn’t just hunt you down to stop your stupid self-assigned mission.” Scoffing, Naruto held his ground and planted his feet, only for his body to feel tight and his feet to move on their own. He swung his arms, trying to correct his balance as his body moved of its own accord. “Fine. I’ll just take you myself.”

“The hell? You—Let go, Shikamaru!”

“No. You’ll waste time.”

“Look who’s talking!”

Shikamaru’s shoulders shrugged and Naruto felt his do the same. They were running now, moving toward the Hokage Tower at breakneck speed. Naruto wondered what lit a fire under Shikamaru’s ass. After all, Sasuke was just being the jerk he was— maybe made worse by that bastard brother of his.

Definitely made worse by that bastard brother of his.

Naruto eased control of his muscles, letting Shikamaru take him directly to the Tower doors.

When the shadows pulled away, Shikamaru turned on his heel. His solemn expression was the only thing that kept Naruto from leaping at the guy. He knew Shikamaru. He knew him well enough to know that this was serious. He turned and grabbed Naruto’s jacket, pulling him into the building.

“Look, there’s a lot more going on than you know about, okay? Miho’s been at the heart of it from Day One and it’s landed her where she is. It got her teammate killed. It got us burned. You got to trust me and keep your mouth shut.” Naruto thought Shikamaru looked like he regretted every decision he’d ever made. It was—

Wait.

Wait!

“Miho— You know where she is?” His voice rose to a near-shout and Shikamaru’s hand flew forward to catch over his mouth. Naruto sputtered at the bitter taste of dirt.

“Are you trying to get her killed?” Shikamaru looked around, sighing when he saw that there was no one in the front receiving room. Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, the Nara huffed and his shoulders sagged. “Why did he think this was a good plan? Look, if you want her trust in you to mean anything— shut up for the next thirty seconds.” He jerked his head toward the stairwell Naruto knew led to the Hokage’s office.

“Why’d you drag me here, huh?”

“To keep you from getting yourself killed. And because I was ordered to go get you.” Slouching even more into himself, Shikamaru looked way more tired than Naruto had ever seen him. And, sure, Shikamaru was normally a pretty chill dude, but this was…exhaustion. He’d known Shikamaru since Miho’d— “You really think the Akimichis would let Konoha do nothing?”

“Sure seemed like they weren’t doing anything!” Naruto retorted, feeling himself being thrown through the Hokage’s office door without really paying much attention to it. “She’s been gone for a month. If no one else can find her, then I—”

“Brat. Shut up!”

“Ouch! Damn it, you old hag!” Naruto winced, dragging himself up off the floor. The old woman packed a wallop. “Just what the hell do you want, huh?”

People liked to think he was unobservant. And he was. Kinda. Sometimes. Not really. Naruto could sense the ANBU in the room, hidden somewhere out of sight. He’d been sensing them since he was little, so he could outrun them or outsmart them. It was actually Sasuke that first noticed. Chakra sensitivity, he said. He’d kept Naruto’s secret. Snorting at Granny Tsunade’s glare, he looked up at the ceiling as if rolling his eyes. Behind him, Shikamaru scoffed and muttered something under his breath.

A lot of ANBU.

“What was that, Nara?”

“What a drag,” Shikamaru murmured before stepping up to Naruto’s side. “I said it would’ve been better to just…knock him out or something.”

Naruto whipped around, glaring at Shikamaru’s deadpan stare. “What was that?”

Judging by the Nara’s dull stare, that wasn’t exactly what he said and he’d be counting on Naruto to hear it in the first place.

“Brat, knock it off if you want to get the Akimichi brat back.”

His jaw snapped shut before he felt the anticipation and anger get the better of his senses. “Whaddya mean if I want to get the Akimichi brat back? Her name’s Miho and she’s ten times the kunoichi you’ll ever be, you old hag!” Naruto had started forward, wrenching his jacket sleeve up his right arm when something grabbed the back of his neck, yanking him full off the ground. “What the hell—” Wrenching around, he felt the fight begin seep out of his muscles and he slackened. “Genma-sensei.”

The guy was dressed in a standard ANBU get-up, mask in his other hand. His usual senbon hung between his lips and his eyes were as sad as they’d been for the past month. Naruto couldn’t bring himself to fight back against Miho’s teacher.

Not when her teacher was hurting so much.

“Settle down, kid. We figured you were gonna make a move soon, but boy howdy, you got some timing. You’re not the type to twiddle your thumbs. Shikamaru was on watch. And we can’t let you do something to jeopardize everything. Not that you could find her. Not where she is.”

Genma-sensei set him on the floor again. A hand rested on the top of his head and Naruto looked up through the fringe of his hair at Genma-sensei’s tired face. Vaguely, Naruto wondered if he would ever be that tall. Somehow, Genma-sensei seemed bigger than Kakashi-sensei.

Maybe because Miho was so big and Genma-sensei always seemed bigger than her.

Like the protector of the protector or something.

“You… You know where Miho is? Why— Why isn’t she here? Where is she?”

Another ANBU appeared. Then another and another. They were masked, but Naruto recognized their chakra, the feel of it from when he was young. They used to guard him. He led them on chases throughout Konoha back then.

Genma-sensei looked to Tsunade before turning and lowering himself to a knee at Naruto’s side. His dark eyes glanced toward where Shikamaru stood, nodding in reassurance. For some reason, Naruto felt sick. When someone— an adult— lowered to a knee to explain something, it was always serious. Kakashi-sensei never did it. Uncle Chōza had though, telling him that he was welcome in the Akimichi Estate any time.

Miho’d been crying then. She’d thrown herself into Uncle Chōza’s arms.

“We know where she is. The team leaves tonight to get her back. When I said you had some timing…”

Naruto pulled in a breath, ready to tell them that he could go too. Miho would need someone to be there for her, to get her. She would need him. And he’d need to kick the ass of whoever did—

“Naruto, you can’t go with the team. It’s jōnin and up. It’s one of the highest-level missions in village history. It’s only out of respect for you that we’re telling you.”

Out of respect for you…Every argument in Naruto’s head was silenced.

“As the only capable member of Team Five, I have a request to make.” Naruto swallowed, remembering Koji’s picture along with all the others at the funeral. At the furthest end from Grandpa’s, the Third Hokage’s. A no-name ‘orphan.’ Tetsuya was still laid out in the hospital, one floor up from where Sasuke’d been, where Sakura sat at his teammate’s bedside. Tetsuya, who had no idea that he’d lost one team member and— “Think of it as a mission from me and Miho, okay?”

Naruto nodded, instinct bowing his head forward even as Genma-sensei’s grip loosened and fell away.

“Guard Tetsuya and be there for him if he wakes up. It’s a lot to ask from someone your age, I know. I’d ask someone older, but…everyone else I trust has a mission.”

He wasn’t an idiot. He could read between the lines. All of the people Genma-sensei trusted were going to get Miho. Naruto’s eyes skittered over to where Shikamaru had saddled up next to one of the masked ANBU that had a familiar ponytail. Trying not to be irritated that even Shikamaru had a mission, Naruto let out a breath.

Everyone else I trust.

“I’ll stay at the hospital until you get back, Genma-sensei. I’ll watch over Tetsuya. Believe it.”

Genma-sensei nodded, settling a hand onto Naruto’s shoulder as he stood. And Naruto noticed that Miho’s teacher didn’t release his shoulder like others might. Like Kakashi-sensei did. Instead, Genma-sensei gripped his shoulder as if it were a lifeline. Something silent seemed to pass between the ANBU in the room and the Fifth.

She nodded and Naruto felt the presences disappear. All but three.

Shikamaru shifted from one leg to the other, looking out of the dark window toward the lights of Konoha. Granny Tsunade moved to the other side of her desk, shoulders hunched. And…

He turned to see a large man behind an owl mask standing in the corner. It was a chakra he’d felt before, but not one that had chased him around Konoha. He knew the Owl was looking at him and he stared right back, determined not to falter under the man’s gaze. It wasn’t in Naruto to back down. The Owl nodded and disappeared.

Wild red hair. Big, big body.

Naruto opened his mouth to say the name out loud, but felt a hand land on his left shoulder. Shikamaru shook his head, seeming way more tired than ever.

“To your missions, both of you.” Granny Tsunade ordered, voice quiet and weighty. “It’s gonna be a long night…for all of us.”

Genma was bleeding. He wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost, but it was probably a good (see: bad) amount, judging from the way his head was spinning. He wasn’t squeamish around blood— couldn’t be as one of the top assassins in the game. Still, seeing it paint his hand wasn’t exactly comforting. With a sigh, he wiped his hand off on his pant leg and drew himself up, checking his ribs for breaks. None. Good chance of fractures though.

He looked down at the body. Another kid. Maybe sixteen or seventeen.

The floor shook and a presence entered the hallway behind him. Aoba. Then, Hayate.

The smell of chamomile no longer clung to Hayate like it did in the man’s apartment, when Genma had shown up to retrieve him for the mission. Yuugao had given him some tea while they both changed into their gear. The man smelled like metal, like blood.

The shaking grew more violent, bits of rock falling from the tunnel’s ceiling. If Genma had been claustrophobic, he’d see himself buried there. As it was, he just wanted to see Danzō’s headless body torched.

“Anything?”

“Nothing but brainwashed kids out to defend their batshit master.” Genma looked down at the pale face of the dead teen. Killing him hadn’t been Genma’s first or second choice, but— “Any luck on recovery?”

“Got about six up a level.” Hayate shrugged, dragging the blade of his sword over his arm guard to clear away the blood. “The younger ones are not in as deep. The ones twenty and older are…not receptive.”

“Putting that kindly,” Aoba scoffed. He edged forward along the tunnel wall, darting across an opening to the other side. “I count another three cells.”

“They had her in here deep.” Hayate’s voice was level, but it made Genma want to scream. This was as deep as the system went. She was buried down here, if she was down in this place at all. She was never meant to see the light of day again. That much was clear.

Again, the mountain shook.

“You think Deer can beat him?”

“It’s not just Deer anymore.” Aoba commented and gestured a four then tapped his forehead. We’ve got four guards. Two adults. Two teens. “It’s Deer, Owl, and Cougar. It’s only a matter of time.”

Genma rounded the corner, throwing nonlethal senbon into the four teens. Two were likely around his team’s age— twelve or thirteen. He swallowed down a kneejerk gasp when he recognized one from Miho’s Images. The Painter was here, shielded behind a gray-haired kid. In front of the two, a redhead drew the senbon from his arm while an obvious Aburame pulled the sleeves of his yukata up, even as he fell to one knee. His skin was a coursing purple.

Genma felt sick, recognizing the insects.  

Rinkaichū.

“Root is an illegal organization within Konohagakure. You are all being commanded to stand down by the Fifth Hokage.”

While the two young ones— Sai, that was his name— stood down almost immediately, the Aburame and the redhead, a Yamanaka now that Genma could see the kid’s eyes more clearly, repositioned themselves for battle. It was a tandem movement. Genma glanced toward Hayate, nodding. The Aburame was likely getting his hive to process the poison. The Yamanaka didn’t have that benefit and that was clear by the sweat on his brow.

Just as Hayate started to move, the redhead scoffed a laugh. “You’re her teacher.”

Genma stilled. If that wasn’t a baiting tone… “Really? You’re being vague for the sake of what? Drama?” Scoffing, he not-so-subtly pulled four senbon from his thigh pouch. “Say her name if you’re gonna bait me, Red.” The redhead shrugged, angling himself just slightly in front of the Aburame.

The Aburame did will in hiding his offense at the defensive gesture, but the slightest downward turn of his lips was enough to signal his anger. Aburame’s were so obvious with their emotions. Shibi was stoic, sure, but he was also obvious. It seemed a life of conditioning couldn’t hide that typical trait. Just like Yamanakas often had a flair for the dramatic. This one was no exception.

“Lord Danzō acquired some interesting information from the girl.”

“Lie.” Aoba called out from where he was watching the tunnel they’d just come through. There was a secondary cell approaching from that direction. Genma could sense it. Hayate saddled himself to the left, blocking the only exit the kids could have made. “He’s broadcasting. Kid, you’re not good at guarding your thoughts. Like, at all. It’s ironic that you can read minds.”

“You’re not a Yamanaka.” The redhead declared, voice decidedly vacant. “You cannot know my thoughts.”

Aoba shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. You didn’t get a thing from Akimichi Miho.”

Then, the Yamanaka moved.

Genma threw the senbon, making the Yamanaka avert to the right. Hayate was on him then, best positioned to take on the kid’s battle strategy.

In a few years, the redhead probably would’ve wiped the floor with old Hayate. As it stood, experience outweighed talent. Genma watched as Aoba moved to help, battling off the Yamanaka’s attempts to Mind Transfer.

There was a buzzing sound and Genma turned to see a mass of impossibly small purple bugs hovering about next to the Aburame, who moved to stand. That mass was familiar. Achingly familiar. Terribly familiar. Genma wondered briefly just how the hell Danzō got ahold of— Seeing an opportunity, Genma flicked a senbon.

The kid winced as his purple, bared arms slowly became skin once more. The rinkaichū receded, drawing back into their hive. Rinkaichū prioritized their hive above all else. More complex than bees. Multiple queens. Queens that left the safety of the hive to act as incubators on new hosts. The queens were the main weapons of a rinkaichū hive. One queen dead was more than enough.

Grinning a bit at the teen’s dumbstruck expression, Genma withdrew one of the containment seals from his hip pouch, pushing chakra into the paper. On the wall of the tunnel, just beside the Aburame’s head, the tiny queen was impaled into the granite. The purple bug was oozing an even darker purple. The size of a gnat. A mortal blow for an already-weakened Aburame. He didn’t yet have the control to have new queens leave the hive proper. They’d stay on his skin. But he was already weak and chakra exhausted from the poison. “H-How—You c-can’t—?”

He sounded younger. More vulnerable. Damn it.

“Aburame Shikuro was my Captain.”

The kid’s eyes went wide, obviously recognizing the name. Damn Danzō. Pushing the seal to the teen’s forehead, he was careful not to allow the now-limp body to touch him. As an extra precaution, he tacked a warning tag to the wall over the body. Do not touch.

A scream tore through the tunnel and Genma barely had time to sidestep a blow from the Yamanaka, who threw himself with reckless abandon between Genma and the Aburame. He skidded and stopped, holding both hands up in the standard Yamanaka hand seal.

“He’s just—”

There was a wild look in Red’s eyes.

The mountain rumbled and bits of rock fell from the ceiling. Red looked up for a moment, seeming to think over his options. Genma’s warning died in his throat when the kid swept down, grabbing his sealed comrade. To do something like that, with that particular hive… Aoba looked on from where he stood with the two younger Root agents. Both huddled behind him as the Yamanaka took two side steps into a small, empty alcove.

It’s getting a little wild up here, Alpha Team. The Hokage is on her way.

Genma looked to Hayate, nodding for the man to continue down the tunnel to scout ahead. If Danzō somehow won this engagement— then they had to get out with Miho and the defectors as soon as possible.

“She only cried a few times. When she died. Or someone else died. Never because of things I put in her head.” Genma turned back to the Yamanaka. He wasn’t touching any bare skin, his own hands covered in gloves. Partners, Genma realized. These two were partners that somehow survived the Root cullings or they were partnered after they survived the deaths of their peers. “She cried once when one of my cousin’s traps backfired. Came pretty close to dying after that one.”

He felt an almost eerie sense of calm.

“She’s not here anymore.”

And then, he felt everything.

The brush of fabric against his skin. The way the needle left his fingers. The roughness of the breath in his chest, the way it pulled and tugged. When the senbon tacked itself into the teen’s right eye, Genma quickly flicked another toward his neck. Immediately, the body fell to the floor. If bare skin touched bare skin, then it was the Yamanaka’s own fault.

Turning, he called to Aoba over his shoulder. “Get those kids up to the surface. Secure them with the others. Now.”

“He wasn’t lying.”

Genma stopped, the dimness of the tunnel feeling more and more like a tomb. Without saying anything, he turned and followed after Hayate as the mountain shook.

This time, one of the walls cracked as he ran by it.

He always swore to himself, when he was younger, that he would always admit his wrongdoings. He never wanted to be the kind of man that believed himself incapable of mistakes. Shikaku and Inoichi kept him honest. His wife kept him honest. His children showed him what it was to be a good man. And then, he made a wrong decision. Then, another. The bad decisions kept cascading, one into another.

Now, as he stared up at the cavern’s ceiling, he saw the future spread before him.

A future where Chōji never looked at him the same.

A future with his wife’s tears.

A future where his daughter did not exist.

A future where she was gone.

A future where it was his fault.

That wasn’t just a vision. It was reality. That future was one he would live, if he survived this fight. If his daughter survived this, she would never return to him the same as she once was. Nothing would ever return to how it was. Chōji, Shikamaru, and Ino would assure that. Genma would guarantee it under pain of death. He had made a mistake.

And he would pay for it. Until he met Keisuke and Chisato in the next world. Even then, neither of them would let him have peace. Not for what he did.

Shaking, Chōza pushed himself to his side and then back up to stand. Inoichi was next to him in an instant.

“That’s eight. That sick son of a bitch.”

Across the space, Danzō pushed himself up once more. They’d killed the man in so many different ways. Eight times. And he kept rising from the dead, using Shisui’s Izanagi. Just as Miho remembered. Chōza knew, truly knew, that he didn’t have another kill in him. He was battered, bruised, low on chakra. It was Miho’s Images that gave them the insight they needed to keep battling a seemingly unkillable monster.

Danzō, though, never said a word.

Not one word.

Not one word to justify, to argue.

Nothing.

The armor felt heavier than it ever had, weighing down on Chōza’s shoulders. He only had one more option for another kill and he doubted that his teammates would back the plan. He cut his eyes over to Shikaku, who’d lost his Deer mask an hour ago. Shikaku was strategizing, keeping back and toward the portal of the save.

Chōza’s dirty hand reached into the pocket inside his armor. The pill case was tempting.

His son had done the same— or he would have. If time had moved as it had then and there. If the story remained the same. If his daughter had never come to this world.

The Uchiha would’ve run, forsaking his friends and village.

Shikamaru would have recruited Chōji to the retrieval mission.

Chōji would have protected his friends.

Would have given his life to save them.

Chōza eyed Danzō’s silent figure as the war hawk straightened.

Inoichi looked at him— and boy did he know that look!— and rested a hand on his forehead as Danzō continued to collect himself for another round. Another life. How many Uchiha bodies had he desecrated? How many ways were they dishonored? The Uchiha…Miho had cried for days when the massacre took them. Chōza grimaced, closing his eyes.

A pill.

Two pills.

That would be enough.

No. Not an option. Chōza might’ve flinched in his younger years at the barely bridled rage in Shikaku’s voice. Inoichi’s hand flexed, finger pressing into his hairline painfully. Chōza focused instead on the images from his daughter’s mind. A hallway. Shikamaru crying. His son lifeless on the forest floor.

Danzō was powerful, and he was arrogant.

That would be his downfall. In this world. In that other world.

Always.

Your family’s research saved Chōji then and there, Shikaku.

Doesn’t mean it can save you too. He could feel the heat of Shikaku’s glare even as Inoichi’s hand fell away. They were in formation before Danzō was steady on both feet. Chōza swung himself through a stalagmite, making sure the fragments fell thunderously into Danzō’s body. The old man was gone when the smoke cleared. Then, everything was on fire.

He felt his body being pulled out of the cavern, courtesy of Shikaku’s shadows.

It would be another twenty minutes before the Hokage arrived. Another twenty minutes before the rest of the team emerged with the survivors, with any of the recovered prisoners. It would be another twenty minutes before he could know whether his daughter was alive or dead.

He'd threatened to withhold food from the village.

He’d acquired the support of the Daimyo to blackmail the village into compliance.

Miho could be dead. Tortured? Maimed?

This was his fault.

Chōza slid and pushed chakra from his body fat into his muscles and bones and skin, feeling as his body shifted and stretched and grew. He stood as tall as the mountain. Outside of the cavern, he could breathe again. It felt less like being buried alive. It was more choking than the burning ruins of Konoha.

Miho was in there. Buried.

“You are charged with treason against Konoha.”

He’d done nothing. He’d looked on while his own daughter was protected by another, by her teacher. His student had looked at him with such hatred, anger, and disappointment that Chōza was sure it would give him heartburn for decades. For the rest of his life. He never moved.

For a few moments, he’d felt ashamed of her. For her lying. For the secrets she kept. Secrets that could kill everyone.

The way he watched as she was guided out, never once looking back to him. He’d focused on the plans, plans to rectify the mistake he’d made. The decision he’d live with for the rest of his days. She never returned home that night. He did not go after her. Her mother had gone to Genma’s apartment, alone. Making sure he had enough money to cover two Akimichi’s diets. He should have gone to her. To explain. To apologize.

To make things right.

Another mistake.

He never saw her again and the guilt was eating him alive.

And Chōji…

Chōji was…

“You did what you thought was right.” He’d told Chōji. Chōji— his sweet Chōji— who he’d found at the bottom of a pit in the Akimichi training field. Chōji, whose hands were bloodied and covered in the dust of the rocks he’d broken. “You were trying to protect your sister.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Chōji wouldn’t look up at him, focusing instead on the bleeding cuts on his palms. “I— I thought…Doesn’t matter, does it? What difference does it make what I thought?” Chōji stood, back straightening as he moved toward an outcropping of rocks. He reared back his right arm and slammed his open palm into a boulder. The boulder did not budge. Chōza felt his heart constrict at the cold light in Chōji’s eyes. At the tears. “I thought you would listen to her. To me.”

Danzō appeared in a rain of wind bullets, moving so fast that Chōza simply couldn’t keep pace.

“I was wrong.”

It was only Inoichi’s quick thinking that got him out of the way in time. The side of the mountain crumbled and Chōza stared at the bared arm of Shimura Danzō.

Eyes.

The Uchiha…Everyone who saw Miho’s mind knew the atrocities she’d witnessed. They saw how the village had doomed an entire clan. How they were slaughtered. How two little girls were so afraid to even whisper about what they saw in their minds. How afraid they were for their own clans.

He knew why she never told the Hokage when he saw Itachi cut down the Uchiha.

And when Shisui fell. She feared that if the Hokage knew…

Miho always saw Chōji in Shisui’s place.

She always saw the Akimichi cut down like the Uchiha.

She had been protecting everyone as best she could.

And he’d…

He’d fulfilled the Uchiha’s threat. He used his power to manipulate the village into action. The repercussions would be far-reaching. He’d blackmailed the village. Not with the secrets that would bring them crashing down…but with the food that kept the village alive. If Akimichi supplies stopped arriving, the village would wither and die. The Daimyo would purchase the surplus and act as a purveyor, raising his political power and the indebtedness of the village.

At least, that was the veiled threat he’d made at the last Clan Head meeting.

Chōza popped open the pill case, throwing Shikaku a determined look over his shoulder.

One pill.

Two pills.

The same number Miho took before she was captured.

“You’re a shame to Konoha.”

Danzō leveled him an emotionless stare. For the first time since the man realized he was under attack, he spoke.

“As was your daughter.”

Chōza threw himself forward even as the rage burned, like his fat turning to chakra. Shikaku’s shadow guided him, moving him like a puppet toward Danzō’s sword. The arm had regrown once more. Another eye, gone. A whole clan. Who knew how many more? Chōza could feel the chakra as it built at his shoulder blades, wings ready to rise from his back if he took the final pill. He would destroy Danzō, to the point that the bastard didn’t stand a chance to take to the sky again.

Shifting left, the Akimichi Clan Head wrapped his arms around a large outcropping of rocks, straining to pull the massive boulder from the mountainside. Meanwhile Shikaku’s shadows caught Danzō in a moment of arrogance, as he swung his sword in such a way that it caught the sunlight, creating a shadow that was just a bit too close.

“—not here.”

Chōza stopped, the boulder held over his head. It was Hayate’s voice. A cough pulling at his baritone. The man had to be close enough to the surface for the signal to reach the in-ear Chōza wore.

It seemed the world stopped.

And the wind sounded like his daughter’s laughter.

“Chōza!”

“I repeat: Akimichi Miho is not here. Alpha team is withdrawing with Beta team.”

He saw Shikaku’s shadows quiver. He saw them break.

Danzō darted forward, drawing his sword back. Chōza could see the man’s plan clear as day. The man was hardly a frontliner, no matter how powerful he thought he was. Dropping the boulder, Chōza dove to the side, sweeping his hand out to stop the attack on Shikaku. His friend withdrew, eyes narrowed as he considered a litany of other plans.

It was always the same. Opponents always went for the Nara first. Then the Yamanaka. Those two clans were seen as the largest threats on the battlefield. They never thought he was a threat. They never thought the Akimichi were forces to be reckoned with. Shimura should know better. He’d arrived to that battlefield during the Third War.

He’d seen what Chōza had done to that Iwa battalion.

With the same movement, Chōza positioned himself between his teammates and the Old War Hawk. “Where is my daughter, Lord Shimura?”

The man just stared, something like amusement in his eyes. Chōza adjusted his stance, waiting for Inoichi’s voice in his head. “She is not loyal to Konoha.”

“Neither are you.” Chōza charged, moving far faster than it seemed Danzō was expecting. The man was on the defensive, taking a blow from Chōza’s staff that buried him in the side of a cliff. To land the killing blow, Chōza spun, grinding the man into the dust of the crumbling mountainside. Breathing a bit more heavily, the Akimichi leader stepped back and looked toward where his teammates stood.

Another second chance among over a dozen second chances. Shimura Danzō stood at the top of the cliff, looking at Chōza from eye-level. His pulped remains disappeared, and the blood faded. Another eye closed, Chōza assumed. Who knew how many more there were? His daughter couldn’t remember. The Images never showed how long it took to kill Danzō.

He was starting to realize that he didn’t care. Nine times. Ten. Twenty. Seeing the man torn to pieces was— silencing. It made the voices in his head go quiet.

Chōza didn’t want justice. Justice was a noble idea. A noble idea and Chōza was a nobleman. But, no, Chōza wanted vengeance. He wanted to tear the man limb from limb for another few times.

The Uchiha…The village…The children…Orochimaru…Itachi…his daughter…

“This ends. Now.”

Kunai peppered Chōza’s skin and armor. The injuries would hurt later, but he could feel nothing except cold, almost feral, rage. The old man was growing weaker, but he wasn’t dead yet. Chōza launched himself forward and Danzō evaded. There was a moment when Chōza wondered what Keisuke would’ve done if he were here to face this monster. He’d call up a hurricane. He’d summon that monstrous attack of his. Purple lightning and thunderclouds. In that moment of idle wondering as he turned, Chōza felt something strike his gut and the chakra that had built up in his shoulders fluttered away. He crashed to his knees, not quite sure what he was seeing.

Danzō didn’t smile as he moved back. The wind died down— When had it become so strong and cutting?— and the chakra calmed. Looking down, the Akimichi Clan Head rested a hand over the gash in his armor, blood melting through his fingers. Chōza watched shadows impale the old warrior.

“Tough bastard.” Shikaku commented blandly, shaking his head as Inoichi moved to Chōza’s shrinking body. As he shrunk, the pain became worse. He coughed, warm bile rising to the back of his throat. Inoichi held up a glowing green hand, pushing down Chōza’s palm with his free fingers. Shikaku cracked his fingers, rolling his neck as he positioned himself between the newly reappeared Danzō.

Inoichi huffed, shaking his head. “You’re not taking the next pill. Give it a rest.”

“We need to—”

“You think Shikaku doesn’t have a plan? You really don’t think when you’re angry. How many times had this happened? Some things never change.” Inoichi’s tone shifted and Chōza watched the exchange between Shimura and Shikaku with half-lidded eyes. Shikaku was full-out for the first time in nearly fifteen years. A hand on the side of his face drew his attention back. “Stay conscious. You’re gonna want to see what Shikaku has in store for—”

The side of a neighboring mountain exploded. A blonde figure stood in the rubble, in the ash cloud. Chōza could just barely make out blond hair.

“Nevermind. You’re gonna want to see what she has in store for this bastard.”

Inoichi was trying to stem the blood flow, but it wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t be able to remain conscious for much longer. The chakra exhaustion, weight loss, and blood loss were all…

Keisuke. Chisato. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for what I’ve done.

Miho, forgive me.

I’m so sorry.

Miho, I’m so sorry. Forgive me.

As the Fifth Hokage landed a killing blow, Chōza’s eyes closed.

Miho opened her eyes.

As she came awake, she stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The large wooden beams were painted red with intricate patterns painted and etched into the grains. Greens and browns and blues. Hanging from the ceiling’s apex was a chandelier of thinly-cut geodes. They caught the light and the wind, chiming and gleaming. Swallowing, Miho realized how dry her throat felt and, as she tried to lift a hand to her throat, how weak her body was. She fought to keep her eyes open, trying to focus on the glimmering lights overhead.

“I—I—” Clearing her throat, she let her arm fall onto the bed beside her. “Hello?”

“My Lady Miho?”

Turning her head to the left, she saw Shinrin lying on what looked to be a cane-slatted bed. More patterns decorated the wall behind the bear. The patterns were swirls and triangles, and large beams at intervals that appeared to be… “Where—?”

“Center Mountain, my Lady Miho.” Shinrin moved carefully, rising up to her four paws as she climbed down from her bed and moved across the space to nuzzle at Miho’s shoulder. “You were terribly injured. So very hurt, my Lady Miho. Grandfather was not sure he could save you. He did though. I gave you some of my chakra.”

“Some of…” Miho’s eyes shut. When they did, she could see it. A hand moving toward her forehead. Red hair, gold eyes. Her body jerked, spasming as if it struck. As she was falling. Her eyes opened again and she took a deep breath, focusing on the brush of fur against her shoulder, grounding her to the closest reality she had. “Chakra…”

“I’ll go get Grandfather Ha. And my Lord Father.”

Miho swallowed, watching as Shinrin bounded away.

In her chest, her heart stuttered a bit. It felt like indigestion, bubbling air rattling against her chest.

She was out. Free. Away from the nightmares of that place. Away from the press and presence of another mind within her own. She could remember things she couldn’t before. Other worlds. Places where she was born, where she’d lived, fallen in love, and died. Families. She’d been a teacher. A storyteller. An anthropologist. An adventurer. A friend. A wife. A mother. A daughter, granddaughter. A person. A hundred times over a person. A soul with so many stories. And he tore them out. One by one.

He drew them out, coated them in his chakra, and pushed them back into her soul.

“—time for you to go. I know that.”

“For my last wish, I want them all to be happy.”

“— so much. So, so much.”

Never the stories he wanted.

He would never get those stories.

Miho didn’t realize she was gasping until an old silver bear hovered over her, pressing a gigantic paw to her chest. The weight made her break from the overlapping Images in her mind. “Breathe, cub. Breathe and focus on my paw.” A paw almost as large as her entire body hovered over her face. He closed it and then opened it again. She breathed with the movement, looking franticly for Shinrin’s presence. “Focus, cub.”

She did as he said, only looking away from his paw when he removed it from her sight. The paw over her chest withdrew and then hovered there, glowing green. “I—”

“You are Okuda Miho. I am Healer Ha.”

“N-Nice to meet you.”

He huffed a rough growl, pushing gray fur out of his time-whitened eyes. “It is no small feat that you are alive, Okuda Miho. I labored for nearly four sun journeys to infuse the chakra of the Center Mountain into your system. It is your Okuda blood that sustained you.” The old bear pulled his paw away and sat back on his haunches. Miho felt less tired, dizzy, and disoriented. “You look like them. Keisuke and Chisato. You carry their legacy well, I think. Time will tell.”

Her parents… Miho sucked in a breath, sitting up immediately. Her head swam and her heart thundered in her chest. “I— I need to— I need to contact my-my team. My family. Konoha. I need them to know I’m—” The dizziness made her vision blackout for a moment. When she blinked back the darkness, Healer Ha was growling. His worn canines were bared. She could make out frustration in the set of his brow. “Please, I need to—”

“In time, cub. In time. Let us wait for the return of Lord Ki and Shinrin. Then, your message will be sent. Until then, rest. Rest.” His paw pressed down upon her chest once more and Miho followed the pressure, laying back onto the cot. “Rest, Okuda Miho. You are safe now. You are safe.”

Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, Miho let her eyes fall shut once more. For the first time in weeks, fear didn’t eat at her. She didn’t feel the looming threat of a hand on her forehead. She didn't fear the click-clack of a cane on the tunnel floor. She didn’t feel the ripples of past lives, ebbing at her mind.

Genma-sensei, Koji, Tetsuya…Mom...Dad...

Chōji, Ino, Shikamaru…Lee...

Naruto.

I’ll be home soon.

Chapter Text

She squinted as she stepped into the sunlight, lifting a hand to block it from her eyes. Her movement was uneven, aided by a staff that she clung to as she carefully navigated a great granite step at the doorway of the Healers Den. At her side, Shinrin fluttered, a worried purr building in her throat as Miho stepped down. One step. Two steps. Miho ignored the fretting and the way her legs shook as she moved. She ignored how her arms ached after only this much movement.

The warmth of the sun was like…Love.

It felt a lot like love. Like kisses pressed to her cheeks and forehead. Like an embrace.

She closed her eyes and just let the sun rain down on her. Free.

She was free.

Her knee twinged with a half step forward. Healer Ha— Grandfather Ha— was adamant that it would never be the same. It could be fortified and strengthened. It could be maneuvered around and she could learn to live with it. But it would always be different. Miho looked down at the bandages and the way bruises painted their way down her calf. She knew they trailed up her thigh.

Her clothes were new, light-weave fabric. They felt strange, different from the heavy material that the Akimichi wore. Her clothes from imprisonment were...unrecognizable. She was unrecognizable. Shinrin had growled as she'd thrown them into the fire. Only the red scarf remained, washed and pressed, wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

Shinrin lowered herself to her forepaws. “Hold to my fur, Lady Miho. I will guide you there.”

Grasping Shinrin’s soft shoulder fur, Miho ambled next to the bear across the central commons. Around the square, there were large wooden buildings with very similar designs to the healing space. Bears lingered about, talking and making and laughing. Carvings and paintings of bears and storms were on each and every surface, clouds and lightning and rain. It was careful, intricate work. It must’ve taken a millennia. There were mountains in the distance, dark purple-tinged clouds beyond them.

“Shinrin, is this our new cub-sister?”

A large bear with light brown fur approached. It was nearly as tall as Elder Torifu, falling back onto its haunches as it stopped. Its jowls loosely fell around its teeth as it grinned. Shinrin stayed on her quads, shooting the new bear a dirty look the likes of which Miho’d never seen from her friend before. Shinrin was the most polite being she knew. “Do not cause trouble, Tsuyoi.”

Tsuyoi looked perfectly offended, huge jaw dropping. “Excuse me? Did I do anything?” He looked to Miho for verification and she minutely shook her head. The world swam and she gripped the staff a bit tighter. “You look like a balloon when all the air’s out of it.” Shinrin snarled. Tsuyoi raised his forepaws. “What? She does.” His eyes tracked to the flaps of skin on her arms.

It was uncomfortable.

Her skin felt too loose. Her arms and legs felt too light. Her weights were gone. All of them. It threw everything off balance. The skin folded over her stomach felt itchy. Her body was in such disarray that she wondered how she could possibly gain all that weight back in a healthy way. She felt off-kilter, unsteady. Uneasy.

Elder Ayumu would help her to gain it back. Wouldn’t she?

Miho’s stomach turned. Was she… still part of the Akimichi Clan?

Would the Elders help her?

Her hand gripped tighter to Shinrin’s fur and she felt a cold, wet sensation on her left hand.

“Stay alert, cub-sister.” Tsuyoi was on his quads, backing up to jerk his large grizzly head toward a large building at the far end of the square. It was his nose that had touched her hand. “Lord Ki is waiting. I will walk over here. Just in case you pass out this direction.” Miho forced a smile, carefully pushing herself forward between the two bears. “So…you’re Lord Keisuke’s daughter, huh?”

“Tsuyoi.”

“Shinrin.” The grizzly shot back. “Lord Keisuke was kind of a big deal around here. The Okuda had been lost for nearly a century when— boom!— there he was. He found the Hall of the Okuda, found the summoning scroll, and took up a long dead legacy. Turns out nearly all of the Okuda had been massacred during the Second Great Human Scuffle.” Miho tried to focus on her feet, making sure her knee supported her weight before stepping again.

“The Hall of the Okuda? Massacred?”

“Tsuyoi, that’s enough.” Shinrin turned and growled through her teeth. Miho stopped. “She is just barely on her feet. It will take much time for her to recover. My Lady is not seeking out stories.”

“What stories?” Miho tugged at Shinrin’s fur while her companion ignored her, settling a firm stare at the grizzly before the other bear lowered his head and relented. “Shinrin—”

“You shall learn of them one day, my Lady Miho. Just…not today.”

Everything in her voice asked Miho to let it go, to trust her. After a moment, Miho nodded and set back into the rhythm of walking toward the Head House.

The House of the Okuda…A massacre… Miho felt her stomach turn.

Lord Ki was waiting at the far end of the central commons, near a building that looked more like a long house with carvings of Bears along the walls and wooden columns of Bears touching the sky. The ceiling was unlike anything Miho had ever seen before. Light blues and whites faded into blacks and greys as pieces of crystal flecked the wood like miniature skylights, raining down freckles of light over the planked floors. Miho remembered this place, like it was a dream.

A dream after a nightmare.

“You are looking much better, Okuda Miho.”

Miho bowed her head, looking over to where Grandfather Ha irately scratched at his neck with his long gnarled claws. The old healer reminded her of someone from a past life. One of the rippling echoes. She wasn’t sure which life it was, but the man wore blue and was an abrupt sort of doctor. “Sending her back to the humans in this state…”

“Healer Ha, you said she was well enough to go.” Lord Ki sighed, looking very put-upon. “She will return in three moons. That should be sufficient. Shinrin will monitor her healing every so often. She must be allowed to return to her village.”

“I can monitor her myself.” Grandfather Ha sniffed, raising his hackles. “I am not so old to be put in the den and told to stay.”

Studiously ignoring the old bear, Lord Ki moved forward. His robes were a beautiful sort of teal that Miho wondered if he meant to coordinate with the red on the walls. When Lord Ki settled down onto his haunches in front of her, Miho lifted her head and met his eyes. She could tell he had so much more he wanted to know and say. Miho knew that there was so much she needed to learn and understand. It was going to be a long path, a life journey that she’d always be treading.

“To be of Center Mountain is to be a Bear. Your chakra is fused with the Center Mountain now. You must learn to control it, or it will destroy you.” Miho had listened as Lord Ki explained. He had gestured toward a carving on the wall of the Healers Den. Storm clouds gathered around the mountain in the image. “It was the only way to save you.”

Her chakra felt like her body— strange, off. Like it was reflecting how she felt. Fractured. Not quite whole. A rattling kaleidoscope. Her body was a husk of what it once was. Her strength, her weight, everything she’d worked so hard to achieve was drawn away. Her chakra, too, felt like uneasiness given energy, anxiety, stuck to the inside of her gut. Like she was teetering, uneven. It felt different.

Lord Ki nodded and she looked over to see Tsuyoi handing over what looked to be a vest. The neck was— Miho felt her eyes widen even as her mind denied that it was bear skin. Because that wouldn’t make sense.

The Great Bear snorted a laugh. “Calm, cub. Calm. This is not somebear’s skin.”

Tsuyoi chuckled. “It’s fur. Lord Ki’s, to be exact. The fabric is cloud weave— a signature of Center Mountain.” Miho looked at the fabric each bear wore. “It is much like your Akimichi clothing, infused with chakra to expand and contract. This fabric is more durable.” When she looked at the grizzly, his big shoulders shrugged. “I am the clan designer.”

“Tailor.”

“Whatever.”

She held it up to look at the back, glancing to Tsuyoi for further explanation. Instead, it was Shinrin who answered her unspoken question. “It is the Okuda symbol. And the Akimichi symbol. Keisuke and Chisato.” Over the etched bear, the Akimichi symbol cut through its center. Behind the bear, a lightning bolt. A perfect mix of the two.

Miho pulled the brown vest over her right arm and then folded in her left, feeling the fur brush against her neck. It felt heavy, like leather. Her scarf pulled from her shoulders and settled around her neck. Way too heavy. Her shoulders caved forward. She fought to stay upright.

“You will return in three moons for training.”

“Yes, Lord Ki.”

The Great Bear held out a scroll. “For your Hokage.” He nodded and stepped back. “No matter what you face there, remember that you are valued here. You are part of the Bear Clan now. You are a Bear. All things you face are faced with power and strength and clan. Do not forget that.”

“And tell your human healers to mind your knee.”

“My Lady Miho, call if you need me.” Shinrin called out as Miho felt a pull in her stomach and the mist-like rush at her feet.

The world tilted and then—

She was nearly bowled over, but the attacker disappeared as she blinked. Her knees weakened underneath her, and she went down. It was only the forgiveness of the sand that kept her from crying out from the strike of her knee on the ground. The staff was gone. Miho’s eyes adjusted to the dimness over the training field, clouds roiling overhead as she looked up toward the sky. She pulled in a deep breath, smelling the familiar aromas that lingered around the Akimichi compound.

Why did she feel so weak? Weaker than before?

“Miho?”

Lowering her stare from the sky overhead, Miho met Elder Torifu’s wide eyes. His still-full cheeks seemed gaunt and his eyes far more aged than she remembered. He was pale.

He took a couple cautious steps forward, a questioning tilt to his brows. “Miho?”

Miho felt tears in her eyes, a break seeming to thrum somewhere in her chest. She wondered how he could recognize her. She looked so different now, like a scarecrow when she was once—

Elder Torifu threw aside his bō and sakazuki, hurrying forward. His footsteps shook the ground as he moved. As old as he was, he could still move so easily, so quickly. If wondered if she would ever make it to his age. She doubted it. Two large, meaty hands came to either side of her face.

“Little Miho…We thought— We thought you were lost.”

His great head fell onto her shoulder and Miho wondered if he saw her falter under his weight. The old man immediately withdrew, hands pulling away as he looked her over. Something in his face seemed to collapse as he seemed to understand. His hands moved from her face to her too-narrow shoulders. She could feel the brush of fur on her cheeks.

“What did he do to you?”

She wasn’t sure who he meant. Danzō? Fu? Miho didn’t answer. Elder Torifu looked away and she followed his eyes, turning to see another person approaching from the weapons house.

Her Uncle Zosui stopped, dropping the chest plates he’d been carrying. “Miho!”

She was in Elder Torifu’s arms in the next moment. The world was spinning, and she fought the disorientation. It made her breath come in harsh spurts. He turned to Uncle Zosui. “I want two guards at the hospital in ten minutes. Then, bring them to the hospital as well. Close your eyes, Little Miho.”

Miho did as she was told, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt the world moving, faster and faster and faster until she felt the shift-click of Elder Torifu’s sandals on gravel. Her eyes opened just as he strode through the hospital doors. She noticed a distinct limp in his movement. Worried, she looked up at his stern face. “Master Torifu, were you—”

“Alert the Hokage. Now.”

“What—” Miho turned to see a woman rounding the corner. Her stomach turned a bit, recognizing the short haircut and kind eyes. Shizune. Comprehension dawned on the woman’s face and she silently waved them toward the third room on the hallway. “Aiko, Rei, come with me.”

Elder Torifu gingerly set her on the bed, stepping back as much as he could with his mass at the bedside. Shizune filled the gap. There were monitors and a counter off to the side, sterile bandages and instruments in storage. The air felt too cold, too still.

“Akimichi Miho, I presume?”

Miho gave a stunted nod, automatically holding out her arm for the blood pressure cuff. Another medic entered the room a moment later, eyes going wide at the markings on Miho’s cheeks and the towering Akimichi Elder in the corner. The brown-haired girl moved forward with a clipboard.

“Her blood pressure is 70 over 50. Miho, do you mind if I call you that?”

Miho nodded.

“Have you been experiencing any symptoms? Dizziness? Shortness of breath? Blurred vision?”

“I was really confused for a while. Now, I’m just dizzy and…a little nauseous.” She’d been nauseous since she woke up on Center Mountain. Miho gestured toward her bandaged-wrapped knee. Shizune glanced at it and then curiously prodded at the bruising as she leaned down to get a better look. She carefully began to unwrap the bandages. “Healer Ha said to mind my knee.”

“Healer Ha?”

“Elder of the Bear Clan. That’s…where I’ve been.” Shizune raised her eyes to Miho’s before nodding. Miho suspected it was a placating sort of acceptance rather than anything else. “I was there…for… I…I don’t know how long I was there. They sent a scroll to the Hokage.”

Shizune hummed, turning to the young nurse who was taking notes on the clipboard. “What was her weight prior to the abduction?” Miho jolted. The feeling of her skin folded underneath the hem of her pants made her squirm. The nurse grimaced and showed Shizune rather that stating it aloud.

Miho knew. She knew her weight before she’d be taken. Because she’d kept meticulous track of her weight since she was just a little girl. 96.7 kg. It took so long to get there and to remain steady at that weight. It took so long to build up her muscle mass. Years. It took everything she had to build up her weight. Now... she shuddered.

“C-Can you get Genma-sensei?” She turned to Elder Torifu, whose face had become hard. Something about his expression made Miho recoil. Or perhaps that was the skin of her knee feeling cool air.

Miho watched as he rolled his shoulders, eyes finally settling on her face once more.

“How long has it been, Elder Torifu?”

“It’s been a month and a half.”

“A month and…” Miho trailed off, flinching when Shizune prodded at the purple and yellow skin over her kneecap. The woman quietly apologized, raising a green hand to the injury. When her brows furrowed, Miho knew Healer Ha was right. Her knee was the kind of injury she would always have. It may not always be a limp, but she would have to care for it, ice it. And that was fine. It was fine by her. She would overcome it. She would still accomplish her goals.

Genma-sensei, Aoba-sensei and Gai-sensei would help her. Right?

Her weight too. She could eat more. She could gain it back. Elder Ayumu would help her. Her team would help her. She'd get there eventually. It would all be okay.

It would all be- Miho felt sick.

“Can— Can you go get Genma-sensei?”

Elder Torifu didn’t acknowledge her question, instead looking to Shizune as she continued her check of Miho’s vitals. Medics started to flurry into the room, bringing in a bag of fluids and a cart for some kind of monitor. Miho tried not to jump when one of the medics began to help her out of the vest.

“N-No. I— I don’t—”

Shizune put a hand on that medic’s shoulder. Her hand lost its green tint. The unnamed medic stepped back, allowing the older woman to get closer. “I’m sorry, Miho. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Shizune. I am the student of Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage. I am going to be doing a series of small tests, so that we can help you, but I need you to follow my directions, okay? And I need you to answer my questions. This will help us figure out how best to treat you.” Miho nodded. “Do you know where you are?”

“Konoha.”

Miho watched as the woman nodded. Her hand rose and she held up one finger. “Follow my finger. Do you know your age?”

“Thirteen.”

“Birthday?”

“October 10^th.” Miho felt a thrill of fear. Naruto. She looked away from the movement of the woman’s hand and toward the Elder who was watching the exchange like a hawk. “Where’s Naruto? Is he okay? Is he safe?”

Had she asked about her brother yet? Miho's stomach turned. She hadn’t asked about Chōji yet. How could she— “And Chōji? Is Chōji—”

Shizune hesitated and Miho felt her shoulders tense. Elder Torifu held her stare, looking far older than she remembered him. His steely eyes cut toward the door and Miho followed his attention. The breath felt as if it were knocked out of her when Senju Tsunade stormed into the room.

The woman was everything Miho thought she would be. She had an undeniably strong presence. Like a force of nature. It actually reminded Miho of Gai-sensei, that strange sense of power he radiated when he was being serious. Or her mother in her last life. A shorter woman with fierce eyes and even fiercer convictions. The Hokage seemed angry as she stepped up to stand before Miho with her hands propped on her hips.

“You know who I am?” Miho nodded. “Yeah, figured you did.”

“Lady Hokage.”

“So, you’re the troublemaker that everyone’s been talking about who sends bears as messengers.” Miho’s mouth opened and she snapped it shut again when the woman held up a finger. On instinct, Miho followed the movements. After a moment, Tsunade reached forward and pressed her fingers to Miho’s throat, feeling for her glands. “I want a report. Immediately.”

Shizune stepped back, letting her master take the lead.

“Elder Torifu, the room. Now.”

After Tsunade finished pressing Miho’s too-thin neck, she turned to the Akimichi Elder, who hadn’t moved at the order. Heaving a breath, his head shook. “I have two guards en route.”

Miho’s mouth opened, but she was cut off. “You think I won’t have guards on her?”

“Then she’ll be doubly protected.”

The Fifth Hokage growled under her breath, but waved away the statement. “Fine, fine. But I need the room. You wanna hulk around out in the waiting room and put sentries on her room—whenever she gets it—you do that.” Elder Torifu nodded and Miho jolted when he started to leave.

“Elder—”

He moved toward her, settling his gigantic hand on her head. He was obviously mindful of the weight this time. He was treating her like she was made of glass. She looked up at him from under the fringe of her hair. “I knew you were a strong one, Little Miho. Don’t worry, sweet bun. It will all work out fine. We will meet again when they put you in a room of your own.” He bowed politely to the Hokage and ducked out.

As soon as he was gone, the door was shut by Shizune. Miho hesitated, looking to the Hokage for something. Some kind of orientation. Some kind of information. Her mind whirled through the possibilities. Was Sasuke already gone? Was Naruto already hurt? Chōji? Shikamaru? Neji and the others? How long had it been before— then and there? Did any of that matter when her father likely hated her? Miho shuddered.

Her chest felt numb. Her arms felt numb. Everything was—

A hand gripping her shoulder made her realize how badly she was shivering. “Breathe with me, Akimichi.” Miho watched the Hokage lift her hand with an inhale and lower her hand with an exhale. Once, twice, three times. “Okay. Steady?” Miho nodded, looking up at the Hokage’s face. Tsunade was grimacing, face pinched.

“Your teacher is deployed on a mission. He’s not due to return for another couple days.”

Miho nodded, unconsciously gripping the vest.

“No one is aware of the smartass Bear messenger that destroyed a perfectly good bottle of sake." Miho didn't know what to say. Lord Ki only told her that the Hokage was aware, nothing more. Despite your plan and all efforts to the contrary, the Third Hokage was killed in the invasion.”

Miho felt a pain like indigestion sear her throat and chest. It felt as if she’d be punched in the stomach. She’d seen him be carried away by ANBU. She’d seen him rescued. After all of that…How…?

“He is not sealed, as you saw. He died a shinobi’s death, defending his village. Defending the next generation. Protecting the Academy with his last breath. Orochimaru did enough damage to do the Third Hokage in during their battle. He didn't have enough in him for a second go.”

Miho struggled to steady herself, forcing back the tears. It made her head hurt.

“A person often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.”

After all that, Sarutobi Hiruzen died anyway. 

Miho wondered if she should feel something. Anything. Mourning? Loss? Hurt? 

“I want a report. Now. Then, I will update you on the current situation. Can you describe what happened?”

Miho shakily nodded, fingers aching as she held to her vest. Her nail-beds were still sore. “I…I was with my teammate.”

“Yes, I know about your abduction. You can start after that.”

“I was held in a cell by Lord Danzō. He had one of his operatives, Yamanaka Fū, Mind Walk. To find my knowledge. He…He never got what he was after. Ino— Yamanaka Ino— put a bunch of traps in my head. She’s the…She’s the reason Root didn’t get any information. He kept trying. I almost died…a few times. He kept bringing me back.”

Tsunade’s eyes flashed and she raised a hand to place on her head. Miho instinctively flinched back, trying to get both legs under her so she could scramble back quicker. She’d never been able to bend her knees at that angle before. That dull realization was hampered when her legs weren’t strong enough to push her back.

The Hokage froze. Miho saw a different hand and hair that was more reddish in tone.

And eyes that were more like molten gold.

Gold eyes. Not brown.

Gold eyes.

Miho stopped after a moment as the hand fell away. Cautiously, Lady Tsunade held up both hands in a placation. Maybe she should’ve had better control. Maybe. She was a kunoichi after all. But Miho’s instincts were burning. “S-Sorry, Lady Hokage. I…”

“Post-traumatic stress is normal, Akimichi.” The blonde held out a hand, palm up. “I’m gonna do a chakra-based technique that will allow me to access your chakra system.”

“He damaged it. Fū did. Healer Ha said he burned my coils with his... reckless healing attempts.” She could see Lady Tsunade’s jaw clench. “Healer Ha did a chakra infusion. With chakra from Center Mountain. It’s…complicated.” Slowly, with a shaking hand, she reached into the vest pocket and withdrew a small scroll. “This was sent from the Bear Boss of Center Mountain, Lady Hokage.”

The woman’s lip curled a bit, but she still took the scroll, popping the seal before unfurling it to read the contents. As her brown eyes scanned, her expression became more and more incredulous until she finally rolled the scroll back up. With a put-upon sigh, she handed the scroll to her student. “Seems Healer Ha wants a follow-up appointment in three months. Fine.” Her hand went back to where it was, slightly outstretched and palm up. “If you take my hand, I can do a chakra system assessment.”

Miho released the vest and reached out to hold the Hokage’s hand. The woman’s eyes closed.

After a moment, the woman stepped away and took the proffered clipboard from Shizune. “Yeah, that bastard definitely screwed you up.” Miho shivered at the scritch-scratch of the pen on paper. “I’m gonna treat you like a soldier, Akimichi Miho. No bullshit.”

Miho nodded.

“Danzō is no longer a problem. Killed him myself. A lot of credit for his removal as a threat was thanks to the Ino-Shika-Cho team.” Miho didn’t flinch, even as a thrill of anxious energy thrummed in her chest. “There are currently twenty-seven former Root members in rehabilitation.”

Swallowing, Miho nodded. Twenty-seven from over a hundred.

The Hokage stopped and swallowed, suddenly looking very tired and worn. Miho couldn’t imagine the pressure the woman was under. Going from life lived at her own leisure to running a battle-scarred village. It must’ve been exhausting.

“Uchiha Sasuke was taken yesterday.”

A thrill of absolute and utter terror flushed through Miho.

“The boy did not leave of his own volition, a major change from the Knowledge in your head. He just committed to an alternate plan. One that would benefit him in the long run.” The Hokage took a deep breath. “Still, despite a more elite team sent to retrieve him, Naruto followed behind. Without permission. With him, so went Team Ten— mostly to keep the little idiot alive—on my orders.” Miho, again, couldn’t feel her hands. “Reports indicate that, while there are injuries, the retrieval mission was a success.”

A success.

The retrieval mission was a success.

The Third Hokage was dead.

“Did— Did he—”

Blood. A waterfall.

A hole in Naruto’s chest.

Miho pressed her hands into her too narrow thighs.

“Did—”

The Hokage’s head shook. “Sasuke did not harm Naruto.”

Miho let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “And…Team— Team Ten?”

“Aside from your brother popping two of his pills, the Nara breaking a finger, and Yamanaka getting a concussion, they’re alive and well. That’s not to mention that we apparently have captured a very annoying four-eyed little prick.”

They captured Kabuto.

They captured Kabuto.

Miho let out a breathy laugh. It was a bit frantic. Like all the worry was cascading out through her weak little giggles. A small difference, but it could have such huge ripple effects. No Kabuto meant no zombies in the war. She could think about the ramifications later, but— When she looked to the Hokage again, her laughter fell away. Her mind caught up with the Hokage’s words. Sasuke was taken. Abducted. By—

“Wait. Who-Who wanted Sasuke?”

“Seems my former teammate has many pathways back to life.”

The Cursed Seal?

A sick feeling of apprehension fell like a brick onto Miho’s gut. Her hands shook as she threaded her fingers together. They felt cold and clammy against the stale hospital air. The Fifth watched her, waiting. Orochimaru was still alive. The Third was dead and Orochimaru was still alive. Danzō was dead but Sasuke was loyal to Konoha. Or was he? Miho shivered. Something didn’t feel right.

“There’s something else…isn’t there?”

Shizune stopped preparing whatever she was preparing on the counter. Her shoulders tensed. The Hokage gathered herself up, pulling in a deep breath.

“Your teammate, Koji, is dead.”

“Wh—What?”

“He succumbed to his injuries shortly after reporting your abduction to your teacher.”

“What?”

The world wasn’t spinning. Nothing moved. Nothing really even existed.

Miho couldn’t breathe.

“Koji— What?”

Koji, his mouth opened, trying to talk, trying to warn her, but no sound came out. Blood on his lips and a blade in his stomach.

Tsunade’s face remained placid. Miho could see the mask beginning to fracture. Everything was fracturing. The world was starting to spin again. Too fast. “Breathe, Miho. Breathe.”

Flinching back at the woman’s hands, Miho looked to the door and threw herself off the bed. Her weakened legs struck the linoleum and she tried to catch her weight. It felt like she was floating for some reason as her knee buckled under the weight. Too little weight, but still she fell.

There was a crash somewhere, but Miho couldn’t quite—

“I have to— Where’s— Where’s Tetsuya? Genma-sensei? Where’s my—Where’s my team? I…I can’t be here.”

“Lady Tsunade!”

Miho pushed against whatever was holding her, trying to get to the door. Beyond it, she could get to Tetsuya. She could find out what happened. She could track down Genma-sensei. She could do something. She’d been inside for too long. And the walls were crumbling. The walls were crumbling, and she was being buried alive. Her nails were just beginning to grow back.

Koji was— She turned and looked up at the force keeping her from the door. “P-Please…”

The Hokage frowned, pressing a hand to the side of Miho’s head. “Listen to me. Listen!” Miho stilled at the command, just barely able to see the woman through the blur of tears. “I’m going to knock you out. Your body can’t sustain this.”

“No— No! I can’t just—I have to—”

Miho felt buzzing in her muscles. She fought it. She kept fighting as it ebbed and flowed, bigger and stronger waves crashing on her. She needed to get to them. Tsunade grimaced. “Stop fighting it, Akimichi.”

“No, I…”

Her arms wouldn’t move. Her chest felt heavy, tight. Why couldn’t she…

“Just sleep, kid.”

Genma was exhausted. That exhaustion felt good.

It was a grueling mission. The target was a slimy son of a bitch, running a human trafficking ring on the shores of Wave Country. Even if the bastard was a deplorable human being, he was also cautious. He had six different missing-nin as guards. Genma slaughtered them all. Made them pin-cushions. And that human-selling bastard? Well, Genma let the guy suffer, gurgling around a poisonous needle in his throat.

A justified exhaustion after a successful mission. His mission debrief wouldn’t be until the following morning. Once upon a time, Genma may’ve gone to one of the seedier establishments in Konoha, found a nameless person, and let off some steam. As it was, Genma pulled on civvie clothes after a quick shower and headed to the hospital.

Naruto had been a relatively steady presence despite the end of his “mission.” Genma half-expected to find the blond kid curled up on the end of the bed again. Just like when he returned from the failed Miho retrieval mission.

The room was empty, save for Tetsuya and some flowers at his bedside.

Daises.

The flowers were wilting a bit. Not fresh.

Something like fear lurched in Genma’s stomach. Worry.

The Yamanaka was a creature of habit. Angry, rage-filled habit, but habit nonetheless. She trained, performed her duties with care, and held others responsible. She was vicious and a manipulator. She was absolutely sincere. And she came to deliver flowers to her best friend’s coma-imprisoned teammate each Sunday. Like clockwork.

It was Monday.

Something was wrong.

Genma set his overnight bag on the floor by the window, pulled it open, and jumped out.

It shouldn’t have sent him into a panic. He was war-hardened, right? He was steady from decades of killing. He’d lost comrades in the heat of battle, blood on his face and hands. He arrived to the Hokage’s office a few moments later, not quite sure why he was there. This wasn’t appropriate. It definitely wasn’t following chain-of-command. He stopped, choking down his urge to—

“Get in here, Shiranui, unless you’re here to see Shikaku for some stupid reason.”

Genma jolted, just barely recognizing the Jōnin Commander, who was staring him down from the other end of the hallway. The door to the Hokage’s office swung open and Tsunade stepped out.

“A low priority assassination doesn’t merit an immediate debrief. So…why the hell are you here?” Genma pulled himself up, glancing to Shikaku’s still-observing form at the end of the hall. The Hokage rolled her eyes and jerked her head toward the office. “You get in here, too, Shikaku. This is part of your mess anyway.”

Confused, Genma stepped into the office. “Lady Hokage, I didn’t come because of the mission— which was a success by the way and the bastard is dead.” Tsunade raised her brows as she walked back to her desk. Commander Nara came to stand by his side, hands tucked into his pockets. “I— Was Team Ten deployed?”

The woman seemed to deflate a bit, rolling her shoulders in a manner that was eerily reminiscent of Miho. Genma barely withheld a shudder, hardening his resolve. Team Ten was always in danger. That's why he called them "Team Annoying," after all. They’d been kept to the village since Miho was abducted, to protect their knowledge. After recent events, they were no longer guarded by ANBU. As chūnin, and with the village still recovering, it was only a matter of time before they were sent on missions— their knowledge of the future notwithstanding.

“Uchiha Sasuke was abducted the night after you were deployed on your assassination mission to Wave.”

Genma— for a moment— forgot to breathe.

“Orochimaru is dead.”

“Wrong tense.” Shikaku sighed. Genma turned to see the man palming his forehead. “Orochimaru was dead. Apparently, he had some kind of failsafe in place. No one is quite sure how he did it. The man is a cockroach. The Uchiha— surprisingly— chose not to take his offer.”

He shifted his weight from his right leg to his left, reaching up to take the senbon from his lips.

“Naruto chased them, didn’t he?”

Tsunade rolled her eyes. “Some things remain consistent. Team Ten was sent to retrieve him. They’ve been on Naruto-guard-duty whenever Jiraiya is unavailable." Genma had to bit down on the senbon to stop himself from pointing out the difference in fire power there. "We sent a team to retrieve Sasuke. Team Ten encountered half of the Sound hooligans in Akimichi’s visions— the flute wielder and the one with the bones. The other two were eliminated by the Retrieval Team, including Aoba, Kakashi, and Hayate. They are returning now and should arrive within the next five hours.”

“Did— Did the Suna team make an appearance this time?”

The woman’s eyes became shrewd and she leaned back in her seat. “We certainly would not want to rob the future Kazekage a moment to bond with our shinobi.”

Whoever thought Tsunade wasn’t a good politician was out of their damn mind.

Feeling a tad more settled, Genma nodded and then bowed. “I apologize if I was out of line, Lady Hokage.”

“You have the Will of Fire, Genma.”

His head jerked up and he stared at the woman with a feeling of incredulousness. The last time he’d heard that, it was from the Fourth. Just a few weeks before he died. He’d been mourning the loss of a teammate then, too. His Captain.

Something crossed the woman’s face and she looked up. “Secure the room.”

Genma felt the room become secured. His ANBU colleagues set the perimeter and waited. Anxiety tore through his stomach and settled up at his heart. This was never a good sign. He felt Shikaku shift.

“Akimichi Miho has returned.”

His ears began to ring.

“She—”

“Your student returned two days ago. She was and is severely malnourished. Her knee is damaged. It is functional, but it will require conditioning to get her back into working order. Her chakra is…a situation I’ve never encountered. At this time, she is in a medically-induced coma.”

Genma wanted to ask the Hokage to slow down. His hands shook so much that he dropped the senbon he’d been rolling between his thumb and forefinger. When he heard the needle drop, Genma pulled the shroud of his ANBU training around him.

He wasn’t Shiranui Genma. He was Sparrow.

“Where is she, Lady Hokage?”

“Hospital. Room 305.”

That room was next to Tetsuya’s. He hadn’t sensed her. Genma nodded, acceptance of the new situation sliding into place. The Hokage eyed him.

“She is under Akimichi guard as well as ANBU.” His mouth opened. “Tiger and Boar. She’s in good hands.”

Good hands had hurt her before.

Shikaku stepped forward. “Chōza and Aoki have not left her side since she returned. They are there now.”

Chakra suppression seals and privacy seals on the room. Genma nodded, pushing down the irritation that Chōza was at her bedside. It was his fault. As a good ANBU, Genma tamped out the emotion and straightened. He gritted his teeth.

“Permission to visit my student, Lady Hokage?”

“Permission granted.” Her eyes took on a kind, if conflicted, light. “I have already informed her of Koji’s death.”

The shroud fell away and Genma struggled to keep a firm handle on his emotions. Anger and something very, very close to hatred swept through him. With the ease of a practiced shinobi, Genma leant forward and grabbed the senbon from the floor, replacing it into his holster. It wasn’t anyone’s responsibility but his to tell Miho and Tetsuya about Koji.

Hokage or not…

She had no right.

“Thank you, Lady Hokage. If that will be all?”

“When we awaken her, I will take her full report. We know a baseline of what happened, but nothing more than that.” The Hokage nodded to Shikaku, who turned on his heel to leave the room. Genma waited to be dismissed, fisting his hands in his pockets as he waited. The room was still secured. Slowly, Tsunade rose up from her seat and moved to a set of filing cabinets positioned under the portraits of the former Hokages.

Namikaze Minato stared down at him. Genma felt that— more than ever— if Minato had survived, none of these nightmares would have ever happened. He would have never let this happen to Keisuke’s daughter. He would have protected his son. He would've done so many things different.. He would’ve been trustworthy. He would’ve been so much better.

“I’m taking you back off ANBU rotation.”

“Kakashi’s—”

Tsunade scoffed, shaking her head. “Hatake is staying in because someone will be joining him soon. And…I think it’s about time we woke your boy up, don’t you think?”

“Woke— Hold up. You kept him under on purpose?”

It took everything Genma had within him, every ounce of self-control, to keep his hand from throwing needles at her smug expression. The old woman actually shrugged, as if it weren’t a big deal.

“Utatane Tetsuya’s brain needed the time to heal. If he was ever to move again, he needed to remain still. It was medically-induced, yes, but it was purposeful. I do no harm to my patients, Shiranui, despite the villain you want me to be.” She held his gaze for a long moment. "His brain was swelled in such a way that anything less than this coma would've been a death sentence. I didn't want you to lose all of your students, Shiranui."

She withdrew a folder from the top drawer and held it out to him.

“Take it. I think you’ll find it…Enlightening.”

Genma opened the folder and gaped. “This is—”

“Namikaze Minato was a clever bastard. So smart that you have to be a genius to figure out his plans. Everything seemed to be so intuitive to him. You know that.” Genma nodded, watching as she walked back to the windows, turning her back to him. It was both a power move and a show of trust. Genma felt his anger, rage, and hatred abating a bit. Enough that he could breathe through the shock of what he held. “Okuda Keisuke trusted Namikaze Minato. Looks like this generation carries on that legacy.”

In his hands was a contract of allegiance, a document that clans would sign when joining the village. Each of the clans had one, noble or otherwise. It was a binding legal agreement that ensured that a ninja clan remained contractually loyal to the village. On it was the Okuda seal.

If Okuda Keisuke had established a contract of allegiance, then that meant…he was going to reestablish the Okuda in Konoha.

“She asked for you first.” The Hokage turned to him. “Go on to your students, Shiranui. For the moment, everything else can wait.”

“Genma.”

Slipping the senbon from his lips, he stared at his former teacher, who stood on the other side of his student’s bed. His hulking form seemed too big for the room, suffocating. His attention tracked down from Chōza’s grimace to Aiko, who approached with cautious care. Her arms swung wide and Genma was never one to turn her down, no matter her husband’s mistakes.

“Genma, dear, I am so glad you’ve returned. Miho would be so happy to see you.” She released him, obviously very familiar with the stiff set of his shoulders under his relaxed slouch. She’d known him since he was a kid. “Chōza, honey, let’s go get something to eat and let Genma be with her for a while.”

Aiko started toward the door, leaving Genma facing down his sensei.

After a long moment— it’s your fault— Genma looked down.

She was alive.

Thin, with extra skin and a gaunt face, but alive. A quarter the size she'd once been. 

But she was alive.

Over the gown, a brown vest lay across her shoulders, brown-golden fur lining the neck.

“No one is certain how she got it.”

Genma’s eye flicked up to Chōza’s face. For the first time, he saw the exhaustion there. Not just physical tiredness, but the kind of soul-deep exhaustion that only came with guilt. Guilt had eaten away at his teacher, buried down deep. Genma wasn’t sure that his teacher would ever be free from that guilt.

He plopped down into the chair at her bedside, throwing both arms behind his head. “I’m sure she’ll have quite the story when she wakes up.”

Swallowing down everything he wanted to say to the man, Genma instead focused on the relief of being in the same room as his student. She was safe. She was safe and he thought she’d been dead. She was there— thinner, sure, but alive. Tetsuya was in the next room. He was to be awakened soon.

“Genma, I—I know that I can’t…”

“Not now, Chōza. I really don’t want to hear it right now.”

She was safe. Tetsuya was safe.

For the moment, that was enough.

The speckled ceiling overhead was a dull gray-white, with some bright yellow pouring in through the doorway and the window. Such brilliant light through the window. Everything seemed distant, foreign. The feel of the sheets on her palms, on her fingertips. Her palms felt wet.

A steady dripping sound was to her right and there was a tightness to her hand. Her throat felt tight when she swallowed. She was sure she’d been drowning. She was sure that she’d been starved for air. She was sure she’d been hanging upside down, bound and gagged and bleeding and— She was sure she’d been buried alive.

A man stood over her bed on one side. He was familiar. She didn’t pay much attention. A woman on the other.

How long had she been asleep?

Minutes? Hours? Days?

Her muscles were stiff.

What happened?

She’d been here before, hadn’t she? Everything felt so familiar.

“You’re well-trained and well-fortified. I will give my cousin her due praise.”

She lurched up, blindly fighting at a hand that forced her back down. Fū again. How many times was he going to make her live this nightmare? How many times would— “Akimichi! Akimichi! MIHO!” She locked her attention on the person holding her down and focused on their eyes. Tsunade. The Hokage.

It was another trick.

Miho relaxed into the bed again, gasping in a breath. 

“Ino’s-Ino's brilliant…You won’t get past her. Keep trying. Keep tryin' and you’ll keep losing. Like always.”

The Hokage’s eyes narrowed. She’d never seen that expression on Fū’s face before. “You’re not in captivity, Miho.”

Her attention tracked over to Genma-sensei, whose eyes were sad and hurt. She wondered where Tetsuya was. He always factored into these dreams somehow. Dead. Alive. Tortured.

So did Naruto. And Chōji, Shikamaru, and Ino. And Lee. Everyone. Even family from other lives, once he learned of them. Her mother, father, sisters, brothers. Friends. Eventually, Fū would use their avatars to try again.

And again. And again.

“A puppet. That’s what you are.” She closed her eyes and sighed. That tiredness seemed to tug her heart into the mattress. “Another adventure, hey? Maybe Ino will have us in some sort of period piece this time?”

She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

But she could take it.   

She could take it.

A gentle hand fell onto her head. “I always knew your endurance would save you in the end, Miho.”

She opened her eyes, looking up at Genma-sensei. She’d seen him so many times in her mind, as the red-headed nightmare tore it apart and put it back together again. She’d seen him die. She’d seen him live out to old age. She’d watched as he was mutilated. She’d fought to stop it.

Then, slowly, memories began to seep in, like water into a mine.

The Bears. Center Mountain. Elder Torifu. Shizune. Tsunade.

Koji.

Koji!

“Gen-Genma-sensei?” Her voice wavered. He gave a short, assured nod. It was him. It was him and—“Genma-sensei, p-please…Please, not Koji. Please... not Koji. Please not Koji. Not Koji, sensei."

Her teacher took the senbon from his mouth, lips pressing together. Miho knew it was true without him saying a word. The tears that gathered in his eyes were enough to confirm it. Genma-sensei wouldn’t cry. Not unless… Everything swelled up to a breaking point and Miho lifted her hands up to cover her face.

“Miho…Koji’s— Koji’s gone.”

She didn’t mean to make the sound that fell out of her. She really didn’t. It just hurt so much. Pressing the side of her hand into her mouth, she bit down and sobbed into it. Throughout her sobbing, Genma-sensei kept a hand on her head. It was a steadying presence, even if she knew he was hurting just as much as she was.

“Tet-Tetsuya?”

“Alive.” The Hokage answered. “He was gravely injured sacrificing himself to spring a trap meant for a comrade.”

Miho pulled herself together, understanding the Hokage’s tone. Koji would want her to be strong. He’d want her to focus on Tetsuya and Genma-sensei. Tetsuya needed her. Tetsuya needed her. Genma-sensei needed her. Her mourning could wait for the moment. Until all was done that needed to be done. Then, she could honor him and hurt, with her teammates.

Sniffling loudly, she dragged both hands across her cheeks and looked to the Hokage. The woman looked back at her, eyes critical.

“We’ll be bringing him out of his medically-induced coma this afternoon. In the meantime, you will be undergoing a series of evaluations.” Genma-sensei’s hand fell away and she glanced to him, noticing that the senbon was back between his teeth as he listened to the Hokage. His brows were knitted together. She could see the bags under his eyes and the way his skin pulled at his cheekbones. He’d been alone all this time. “You will also provide a debrief on your time in captivity.”

“Yes, Lady Hokage.”

Nodding, the woman turned to the door, watching as it opened. Miho bit back a lurch of anxiety that pealed up her throat when her father stepped through the too-small door. Nara Shikaku and Yamanaka Inoichi followed along with Shizune. Her father approached, head hung low and his once warm eyes cautious. Like he didn’t know what to do as he neared her. His hands opened and closed at his sides.

Miho bit her lip, chewing on it when he didn’t approach to hug her or embrace her or…apologize.

He’d always been a pillar of strength.

She didn’t feel anything from him at the moment.

No strength. No reassurance.

Just a big gaping hole where he should be.

It seemed the Hokage, her teacher, and the others in the room thought the same. Miho felt awkward tension rise. Swallowing, Miho cursed in her head. Why couldn’t they give her time with her mother? Why wasn’t Chōji— Wait.

Chōji.

“Miho, I—”

“Has Chōji returned from the Retrieval Arc? Did they— Are they okay?”

Her father’s mouth hung open and he looked a bit frantic as he turned toward Inoichi. There was a new scar on his face. Miho felt her stomach lurch at the sight of it. She didn’t know where he got it. The invasion? She pealed her eyes away from it and focused instead on the Hokage.

“No, not yet. As tends to happen when Naruto’s involved…Things went a bit sideways. Oh, don’t look like that. They’re due to return this afternoon. I’d like to hurry up and get all of this over with before it’s impossible to enforce the ‘two visitor’ limit rule. Kami knows Naruto and those other brats won’t listen to it.” The Hokage sat her hands on her hips. “So, kid, I want to hear it all. Then, you’re gonna have a physical and an evaluation with Inoichi. After that, you will be under guard until I deem otherwise.”

Miho nodded, taking some strength from the fact that Genma-sensei seemed just as stand-offish as she felt. And maybe that was wrong. Maybe it was wrong to blame her father like she did. Maybe she should’ve had better control. Maybe she should’ve been the bigger person.

The bigger person… when he was the biggest person in the room.

She described it all. The attack by Aburame Torune and Yamanaka Fū. The way Aburame Torune stabbed Koji in the gut. The blood. The pills. The Yamanaka’s attempts to take over her mind, to see what she saw. To get to her knowledge. Inoichi flinched and she looked at him, shaking her head. The world swam a bit when she did that.

“Ino put traps in my head. Since we were nine. So— so many of them. I didn’t know. Every time she was in my head she laid them. Fail safes. She made my head a fortress. My head’s nothing but a kaleidoscope.”

“I saw them. The traps.” His lips tilted a bit, a proud sort of turn that made Miho wish that her father would look at her the same way. “When the Third had me explore your mind, I saw them. They told me how much Ino trusts you. Thinks of you as family.” He nodded to the Hokage, whose brows were raised for an explanation. “It is an advanced technique that is forbidden within the Yamanaka Clan. Over years, a Yamanaka can implant false memories and create incorrect connections within a mind. This is often done by older members of the clan to fortify the minds of younger members. The return of enemy shinobi with altered memories is a related technique.”

“She saved me. She saved everyone.”

Heart racing, Miho turned away from Inoichi to face the Hokage again. She’d start crying again if she looked at him too long. Ino looked so much like her dad. The Hokage’s expression hadn’t changed, but it instead held a light that Miho couldn’t quite identify.

“Was it ever clear how Danzō learned of you?”

Miho’s attention immediately flicked to her father. She looked away as quickly as she could, focusing on the Hokage again. It was very clear how Danzō learned of her and her knowledge. It was one of the few things she knew.

“One of the ANBU that day…when my knowledge was revealed to the Hokage…was a member of Root. He was there.” Miho turned, looking at Genma-sensei. His eyes widened and then he nodded, understanding her meaning. It was the ANBU that he’d restrained.

His hair color had looked familiar…

because it was Fū.

She’d never forget his hair and his eyes. She wasn’t even sure what she remembered correctly anymore. How reliable was her own mind? There were so many echoes from so many different worlds rattling around in her brain. Memories from this life and other lives and false lives. She remembered things she shouldn’t.

Her father in her most recent past life was an engineer. He raced cars like a hellion. People people called him “Superman.” He could bench press nearly 500 pounds and always took the side of the underdog. He took on gangs and fell for the bookworm good girl from the better side of the tracks.

He died of cancer. When he died, his arms were even thinner than her own now as she wrapped her fingers around her wrist. Superman’s kryptonite was an infection.

You call me strong. You call me weak, but still your secrets I will keep.

Her father stepped forward and Miho looked to him.

“Danzō has been killed,” he said. Like it was a plea. Or an offering.

Miho nodded. She already knew that. The Hokage had killed him. He and his team helped. Her father’s expression broke her heart. She wanted to reach out for him, bury her face in his chest, and wait for all of this to be over. He’d make it all go away, wouldn’t he? But she just couldn’t do that.

She felt something in the room shift.

Her teacher eased his stance, moving to sit in the chair by her bedside. Each of the Clan Heads eased as well while the Hokage let out a breath. It only took Miho a moment to read the room.

“They’re back.” Miho’s words were met with a nod from the Hokage. Knowing that she needed to finish her report so that the Hokage could see to the returned shinobi, Miho raised her chin. “I knew I was close to death. I used what was left of my chakra to summon a Bear. I was reverse summoned to Center Mountain, where they stabilized me.”

“The end.” The Hokage scoffed, shaking her head. It was with a bit of humor at her quick wrap-up and Miho smiled just a bit. “I’ll need a formalized report by the end of this week. You’re not gonna have much to do in here anyway.” She turned, moving toward the door. “Shizune! Complete work up then transfer to hospital care. Soft foods diet starting tomorrow. Physical therapy starting in three days. Shiranui, with me. I’m starting the awakening process for your other kid before I can’t get anything done for the rest of the day. Hop on it!”

Miho looked to her teacher, watching his face light up in a way she hadn’t seen since she’d awakened. She smiled back, squeezing his hand when his larger one grabbed hers in a reassuring move.

“I’ll be next door, okay? We’ll get you two moved in together soon.”

“Don’t let Stringbean get-get too obnoxious over there.”

He clicked his tongue and winked, putting a senbon between his teeth. “No promises.”

“Shiranui!”

“Coming, coming.”

Miho let out a breath, turning to see her father lingering halfway to the door. Inoichi was just leaving, tossing her a nod over his shoulder. Nara Shikaku was already gone, likely on his way to see to Shikamaru.

“I quit being a ninja.”

Was Chōji in trouble? Was he okay? What about the others? The Hokage said that Chōji used one of the pills. What if he had to use the others? Did Lee go this time? He was never mentioned. If there were complications, did that mean that Sasuke had changed his mind? Tetsuya was being awakened next door… He would learn about Koji soon. Miho’s stomach felt sick.

She wanted to eat.

“I’m sorry, Miho. I should have- I should have trusted you.”

Miho nodded, raising her hands to hold onto the fur of the vest. It felt sticky under her sweaty, clammy palms. 

“Miho—”

“Chōji. Please—Please go check on Chōji. I just— I—” Swallowing, Miho stopped looking at him and instead laid her head back against the pillow. The ceiling wasn’t comforting, but it also wasn’t her father. “I can’t. I can’t. Not today.” When the tears starting coming, she turned her head toward the window and squeezed them shut. She didn’t let them start falling until she heard him move to the door.

When the she heard the shh-click of the door and felt the stillness of the room, she let go of the control to which she'd so desperately clung. She pressed the red scarf to her face and fought to steady herself. The IV needle stung on her hand. Steady, Miho, steady. You're the strong one. 

It was her first time being alone since the cell.

You took for granted all the times I never let you down. 

“Look, sweetheart, your good ol’ buddy Koji’s just tryin’ to look out for ya. Tryin’ to be a good teammate. And you’re not makin’ it easy.”

No, Miho realized. She wouldn't be steady again for a long, long time. 

Chapter Text

She could hear a voice— sweet and old— singing the same words over and over. As if the woman didn’t know the other lyrics to the song. If there were other lyrics at all. Miho couldn’t remember them either, the other words. Just “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” Over and over and over.

It was her grandmother’s voice. From another life, the most recent one. Miho could remember her now, her kind smile and soothing presence. Whenever she would cry, Miho could remember her grandmother wrapping her up in her arms, singing as she rocked. Even as an adult, Miho looked to that woman for comfort. “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine…”

“You make me happy when skies are gray.” Miho held onto Tetsuya’s hand, tilting her head to rest more fully on his shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t react to her sudden singing. He just lay there next to her, listening. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

It was quiet then, like it had been for a while. Miho was comfortable with it. The quiet was reassuring…because Tetsuya was there. Awake. Alive. Present. She’d climbed into bed with him as soon as Genma-sensei left. Their teacher promised to return with fresh clothes and books and hospital-forbidden snacks. Tetsuya only had to move a bit to accommodate her now-small body. He had grimaced when he raised his arm for her to lean into his shoulder.

“Feels weird.”

Miho only nodded. Everything felt weird. Off. Strange.

“You still sing off-pitch.”

“They still haven’t told them.”

Tetsuya scoffed. “Unspecific much?”

“The adults. They still haven’t told Naruto, Lee…Ino, Chōji, and Shikamaru… that I’m alive and you’re awake.”

“That’s why it’s so quiet.” Tetsuya said. His voice was full of awe. Like he’d just realized how quiet it really was in that hospital room. “Genma-sensei said Ino brought me flowers every week.” Miho nodded, looking to the wilted daises. “And that Naruto guarded me. Lee visited, read to me.” He paused and she could see his curiosity building. “What happened, Miho?”

Miho should’ve expected the question. When Genma-sensei omitted her situation as something to discuss later, she knew Tetsuya would only wait until their teacher left.

“I—”

“If it’s something you can’t talk about, I-I understand.”

Miho turned her face further into the nape of his neck, trying to control her breathing. She owed it to him, an explanation. She knew their room was secured since she’d been moved into it. Secured by ANBU that Genma-sensei trusted. Secured by Akimichi privacy seals. Secured by Akimichi guards, who stood at the doorway with their bō at the ready. She owed him this.

She should have told him sooner.

She should’ve told them both.

“I know the future. A future.”

Tetsuya didn’t react for a long moment and her words seemed to linger in the stale hospital air. She shivered as they brushed against her skin, like the film of dirt, a sense that she couldn’t quite shake. “Is that what you couldn’t tell us before? Why you kept lying?”

Miho nodded. “It’s easier to show than it is to explain.”

He sat with that. “Ino.” It was quiet again for a moment. “Can you… try to explain?”

“Before…Before it was just Images, like a cartoon on a screen. I could see things. Like a movie. I lived before this life. Multiple lives. In my past life, this place was a…setting. A setting for a story. I knew the story, watched it. I saw things that happened before we were born. Things that were or are going to happen. I saw the invasion, the things that led to it.”

She didn’t see Koji dying. She didn’t see a lot. Tetsuya didn’t call that out.

“All of it centered on Naruto.”

“Uzumaki Naruto? Why?”

Miho swallowed. “It’s his story.” Tetsuya shifted. She wondered if he remembered pushing Naruto on the playground. She could feel the muscles shift in his arm and she looked down to see his hand fisted where it lay on his stomach. “He’s…the main character. The title character. He’s…He deserves so much. So much better than what he got. I didn’t do anything for so long…and then I did.”

“Made me eat dirt, from what I remember.” Tetsuya sighed, raising a hand to press it flat against his forehead. He’d picked up that habit from Koji. Miho tried not to flinch at the reminder. “So, what? Is he gonna save the world or something?”

Miho felt the Images seep in from the back of her mind, where she had hidden them for so long.

Explosions. A red moon.

The war was coming. An explosion on the horizon. Headquarters. So many people… And golden chakra.

Golden cloaks. Gold chakra. Like the sun. Like the sun rising on a world torn apart.

“Yeah,” Miho whispered. Her hand sought out Tetsuya’s, gripping it like it might keep her stable. “Yeah, he saves everyone. Everyone, Tetsuya.” She shifted. “That’s not why I want to protect him. He’s…just…He’s good. He’s such a good person. I want to protect him. Somehow. In all of this.”

He didn’t laugh at her.

He didn’t scoff.

He didn’t tell her she was crazy or that she was lying.

He tightened his grip on her hand in return. As if holding her hand tighter might keep her there. “I bullied him.” Miho’s mouth opened, but his head shook. She felt a rush of gratefulness. He took her words as truth and didn’t question it. “My grandmother hated— hates him. I thought that if I…then I stopped caring what she thought.” He pulled in a big breath and held it for a moment.

And the silence in the room felt deafening and comforting at the same time.

“Don’t really care that he’s some kinda savior.” Tetsuya said after a minute. He shifted, turning to look at her. Miho mirrored the action, looking back at him.

She realized then that they were both shells. Their former selves had been ripped away. She was a dehydrated husk. He was her reflection. The same onyx eyes that had once been alight with antagonism were now steady, sure, and caring. He’d sacrificed himself for Neji. His skin was healed, but scars littered his face. One gash cut up his left cheek to a jagged end around his eye. Miho refocused on his eyes, not feeling guilty for looking at the scars.

“It’ll take some getting used to.” He tried to smile, but it petered out too quickly. “Was gonna joke about being ruggedly handsome.”

Miho nodded. “You’ll grow into it.”

Tetsuya’s eyes rolled. “He’s your brother.”

Miho nodded again.

“Savior or not, he matters to you, so he matters to me.”

It was said with such certainty. A matter of fact. A simple truth.

“Thank you, Tetsuya.”

They settled into silence for a while. He didn’t pepper her with questions, not like she’d come to expect. She’d expected to be grilled, quizzed, chastised. Like always. She…expected him to hate her for keeping her knowledge of secret. Instead, he focused on something else.

“They were trying to get at what’s in your head, weren’t they?”

Miho chewed on her lip, desperately wishing that it was a steamed bun or cookies or anything more substantial than the pureed diet they had her on. Genma-sensei was bringing her some soba noodles and some mochi. He’d promised. “Ino put traps in my head. They never got what they wanted.”

He hummed. “The thing about traps is that they usually leave a mark.” He reached up a pulled idly at the skin of his cheek, making the scar look tight and uncomfortable. Miho grimaced. He’d gotten caught in a trap. Tetsuya looked at her. “What d’your scars look like?”

Tears sprung up in Miho’s eyes without warning and she immediately looked away, trying to get a handle on the way her eyes were watering. She couldn’t tell it was hurt or love or anger or missing Koji so damn much that had her crying again. So, she told him— about Chōji’s actions, about her father’s report to the Hokage, about the past lives. The flashes and the fear.

The way she couldn’t close her eyes anymore without seeing things.

“I—I can get my weight back. I can train. We can train. I can get fast again. Faster. I can hit harder. I can do a lot. I’m not done.” Tetsuya nodded, agreeing to the unstated fact that they were still going to be a team without Koji. “But I can’t trust my father. And—And I can’t— I can’t really…I don’t want to go back to—”

“Funny…” He chuckled a bit, raising his right arm. She could see it shaking with the effort as he made a finger gun and grinned. It was more hollow than usual, but—somewhere behind the grief and the pain— it was genuine. “I was getting real tired of living at the Utatane Estate. It’s boring and old and not my style. Besides, the old bird can’t wait to be rid of me. A roommate would be pretty cool.”

Miho leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It didn’t feel normal and it probably wouldn’t for a while. She was too thin and he was too thin. They were both too weak. But with the way Tetsuya held to her shoulder and pressed his chin into her neck, Miho resolved to never hide her thoughts from her teammate again.

“Koji…Koji died because— because they were after me. They wanted—They wanted what was in my head. He died— He died because—”

Tetsuya pushed her back and Miho felt her stomach sink. His head shook. Then, it shook some more. “Koji…Koji died…” He swallowed and then narrowed his eyes in determination and resolution. “Koji died because he was a good person trying to protect someone he loved. Don’t…Miho, don’t give them that kind of power over his memory.”

“Tetsuya’s right, Miho.”

Miho jolted, looking over to see Genma-sensei climbing through the window. Tetsuya smiled a bit and let his head settle back into the pillow as she sat up. “Eavesdropping on teenagers, sensei?” It was an empty joke and Miho could sense it fall onto the floor. Genma-sensei leveled her a cool look, moving the senbon to the corner of his lips as he raised a plastic bag.

“You wanna keep diverting or should I just take this back?” Miho closed her mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You told him then? Your knowledge didn’t kill Koji. Root and Danzō did.” Miho looked at him, knowing that he also blamed her father to some degree for Koji’s death. He didn’t say it and neither did she. His eyes tracked to Tetsuya. “You ok?”

“Very not okay, but— Oh you mean with Miho’s—” He wiggled his fingers. Their teacher gave him a dull stare in answer. Tetsuya shrugged. “It’d be pretty cool if it wasn’t so scary, and, you know, actively threatening her life.”

Genma-sensei nodded. “Yeah…Wait until you see it.” He pierced the top of a convenience store drink.

Tetsuya shook his head, taking the proffered banana milk. His hands shook with the weight of it, but he managed. Miho took hers and waited for her teammate to speak, sipping on it as she looked between Genma-sensei and Tetsuya. It was almost peaceful, though certainly not normal. Koji would be fretting over them. Her parents would be…Miho gulped down the drink, raising her brows at Tetsuya shaking his head again.

“Don’t wanna see it. You can explain it, sure. I don’t wanna see it.”

Relief.

Their teacher settled into the chair under the window, sliding down into it to rest his shoulders against the sun-warmed pleather. “Not a bad call, Tetsuya.”

“Does Hayate-sensei know?”

“About you and her or just her?”

“Both, I guess.”

“He knows you’re awake and that she’s back. Doesn’t know about the other stuff. Not— ” Genma-sensei wiggled his fingers. “He would’ve died before the invasion though without—” He wiggled his fingers again and rolled his eyes at Tetsuya’s stricken expression. “Kid, you’re offending me with this star-struck puppy routine.”

“He’s awesome.” Tetsuya retorted. “He’s like— one of the best swordsmen out there.”

“You haven’t been ‘out there.’” Genma-sensei drawled, shrugging his shoulders a little in the sunlight. He reminded Miho of a cat curling up in a sunbeam. Tetsuya scoffed, taking another sip of his contraband banana milk. “He’ll visit soon, I think. You’re still his student, after all.” Miho studiously ignored the way Tetsuya looked down at his thinner arms.

Her team was together again, and it was the safest she’d felt since Koji had been with her in the streets of Konoha, fighting shinobi from Oto. Safer than she felt with just her father and mother in the room. Her mother never pushed and her father never knew what to say. There wasn’t really anything he could say. Their visits became awkward silences. And those tore at her more than the pitiful sighs of her mother.

“Hand me that book, Genma-sensei. I’ll read for a little while.”

Her teacher stood and passed her the book before falling back into his chair.

The Empire Falls. Miho looked to Genma-sensei, but he’d already closed his eyes and leaned back to get more comfortable. She could sense Tetsuya’s eyes on the book cover and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her favorite book in the series. The series that brought them all together. The origin of the “Book Club.” Miho looked at Tetsuya and met his eyes.

He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite seem genuine. He gestured for her to settle back again next to him, making room. Miho opened the book as she pulled the old knitted blanket Genma-sensei had brought over her and her teammate’s legs.

She could see that Genma-sensei had opened an eye, pulling the senbon from his teeth.

Clearing her throat, Miho swallowed down the strangest sense. The strangest feeling that she’d ever felt before. That Koji was there, even though he wasn’t. Like he’d be okay with this. If this was how they coped. If they kept it together, hibernating until they could deal with more or until the world made them emerge. Koji would have accepted anything if it meant they would heal.

Miho started on the first page.

“The town on the edge of the river raised up Tigers as deities. The southern tribes praised fire birds. The Great Turtle ruled the north. What more could a man with the convictions of a dragon do? The Fifth Prince…”

Miho continued to read until Tetsuya and Genma-sensei were asleep, letting herself fall into a dreamlike story.

“You should go see her.”

Chōji didn’t move, rotating his hand back and forth. The skin felt strange on his arm, tighter. Weird. It didn’t feel right. It felt like there should still be blood there. His hand felt hot and the skin felt tight. And Chōji’s chest hadn’t felt right in months. He’d— He’d— He looked up at Shikamaru, trying not to see the worry in his best friend’s eyes. Shikamaru knew him better than anyone, after all. He could still feel the snap of bone under his fist.

And he didn’t even have to take the third pill.

It made him sick.

He knew that feeling would never wash off. The blood would never go away. His hand would always feel…dirty. He wasn’t ashamed of it. Not really. No, he would do it again if he had to. He’d punch his hand through any chest if it meant protecting his friends.

He couldn’t lose Shikamaru.

Not after losing Miho.

So, Chōji punched the giant through the chest.

He could be strong like that. So strong that he could break boulders one day. Maybe he could move mountains. Move them out of the way for people who needed water. Like the old stories. The man who worked for the Sage of Six Paths. Maybe he could help build houses and move rubble. Help people. He could face down a giant and yank his heart out.

But Chōji couldn’t face his sister.

“What a…” Shikamaru didn’t say ‘drag,’ but he wanted to. Chōji could feel the word hanging in the unfinished sentence. “She doesn’t even blame you, Chōji.” Shikamaru sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “She knows the real ones at fault were Danzō and Root.”

“How— Did she tell you that she doesn’t blame me?”

“Ino. She told Ino.” Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “Ino told me, with Miho’s permission.” His friend grunted as he pushed off the doorframe and moved further into the room. His splayed his hands open. Chōji glared at the broken finger. “Look, I get—”

“No. No, you don’t ‘get it.’” Chōji was on his feet. He didn’t remember standing. “If I hadn’t— If I didn’t tell our father— I trusted him to do what was right. To help me protect her!” Chōji didn’t realize how fast he was breathing until Shikamaru stepped forward and sat a hand on his shoulder. The tightness of his skin pulled and pulled and pulled. “If I hadn’t said anything—”

“If you didn’t say anything, everything could have gone perfectly. We could have saved the Hokage, saved the village damage, saved lives. Miho would’ve died. If you didn’t say anything, our plan could have failed. The village could have fallen. We all could have died. Miho could have lived.” Shikamaru held onto his shoulder with his uninjured hand. His head shook, eyes so tired. “You were trying to protect her.”

Chōji felt tears piling up in his eyes and he dropped his head, not wanting to let anyone in the hallway see. “How— How is she?” He knew how small his voice sounded. How weak.

And he swore after Miho was taken that he would never be weak again.

He’d be strong enough to protect her whenever she returned.

Strong enough to protect Ino and Shikamaru.

He’d be strong enough to protect Naruto if she wasn’t there to do it.

“She’s a mess, but she’s keeping it together.” Shikamaru stepped back, giving Chōji the room to wipe his eyes on his sleeves. “Ino put traps in her head to protect her knowledge of the future. They never got anything out of her—”

“I don’t care about that!”

“Neither do I, Chōji.” Shikamaru sighed, palming his forehead. Chōji felt guilty. Of course Shikamaru didn’t care about that. “They messed with her head. Tortured her. You can see it, Chōji. She’s…not okay. It’ll be a long time for her to recover. Even then…”

His friend was beating around the bush and that wasn’t like him. Chōji leveled him a patient stare, chewing at the inside of his cheek. With Nara Sigh, Shikamaru relented.

“She’s a husk, Chōji. Just…prepare yourself for it.”

The sound of heels on the linoleum made Chōji’s stomach drop. The Hokage stopped and stared at them for a long moment, a tick starting in her cheek. “Akimichi, I thought you’d be with your sister already.” Chōji went to respond, but the Hokage jerked her head. “I’m on my way to that room now. I wanted to check on them before heading back to the Tower.”

Chōji couldn’t refuse the Hokage.

And she knew it.

Shikamaru raised a brow and tucked his hands into his pockets, following the Hokage with a feigned put-upon shuffle. Chōji’s heart fell to the floor. He took two steps into the dimly lit hallway and stopped.

He vaguely heard the Hokage and Shikamaru stop.

Miho hated him. She had to.

“I— I can’t—”

“You will. She’s been asking about you since she returned. You and Uzumaki are the only ones she hasn’t seen. And the latter is only because he doesn’t know yet.”

When Chōji didn’t move, she called out to him.

“Hey, kid!” Chōji felt himself turn. The Hokage’s eyes were hard. Unforgiving. Unrelenting. “Look, you wanna blame yourself for what happened? You go right ahead. Dial up the drama a notch. Go for it. This girl deserves support. If you’re going to make this about you and your self-pity, then get out of my hospital and lick your wounds somewhere else.”

The Hokage scoffed and walked down the hallway. Chōji’s attention flickered to Shikamaru, who was half-turned to him in a beam of light from the open door of a room.

“Come on, Chōji.”

The way his heart was beating, it felt like indigestion. Like the bubbling pain that came with acid reflux. Chōji felt like he couldn’t breath as he forced himself to follow Shikamaru to the 200 hallway.

“What the hell did I say, Akimichi?” Chōji stopped, looking into the room Shikamaru had entered, watching as the Hokage waved her hands in the air. He could see Ino propped on the end of a bed beyond a curtain. Past them, he could see Tetsuya— face scarred and gaunt— grinning from ear to ear. Genma-sensei sat in the corner, huddled over a book with a senbon dangling from his lips. The Hokage whipped around to the jōnin. “If you bring them any more snacks, I’m putting you on gate duty!”

He could hear Miho’s light laugh at Genma-sensei’s scandalized expression.

“Troublesome…What did you smuggle in now?”

“Mochi.” Tetsuya cheered. His voice sounded weak and tired, but happy.

The Hokage moved a bit as Chōji stepped into the room.

He was supposed to protect her.

He was supposed to shield her from the world, keep her safe. He was supposed to be the one that fought off the threats. He was supposed to be the one that supported her in everything. He was supposed to be there for her.

Her eyes met his instantly.

She— She couldn’t be his sister.

His sister was bigger than him. She was broader and larger and he caught up to her, but she was always… And now….He could feel everyone looking at him, waiting for him to do something. She was waiting for him to do something.

He could see her eyes soften. “Chōji…”

Her eyes were the same. They were set into a narrow, ashen face, but they were the same. And they weren’t filled with hate. Or anger. Or— There it was though. Her shoulders rose and rolled back. They were prominent under the heavy vest she wore. Chōji faltered, the bubbling in his chest becoming painful. How could she still love him after what happened?

“I’ll protect you. I – I promise.”

Chōji couldn’t. He couldn’t.

He saw Ino’s mouth start to open. He saw Miho say his name, but he couldn’t hear it.

He just ran.

Miho lowered her hand, which shook so prominently that she felt a shiver go up her spine. Blinking away tears, she shoved the hurt and rejection to a far corner of her mind. Chōji just…Chōji needed time. She fiddled with the edge of the sheets, looking at the ridges on her nails as they regrew. The tension in the air was electric, stifling. She didn’t chance looking up at Ino or Shikamaru. Instead, she glanced to Tetsuya.

His expression was thunderous. He held her stare for a long moment before scoffing, tossing both hands behind his head. Miho felt the tension building between her shoulder blades when Genma-sensei stood.

“Go handle your teammate, Ino, Shikamaru.”

Ino sighed, pushing herself off the end of Miho’s bed. Don’t let it bother you.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. Of course it’s going to bother her. “What a drag…” Miho was surprised when the Nara came up to grasp her hand, nodding his head to her before he left. Ino stayed for a moment longer.

“It’s not your responsibility to make him feel better about all this, Miho.”

Miho opened her mouth to respond when the Hokage stepped up between the beds, drawing her attention away from Ino so that her friend could make a clean exit.

“What do you say to a field trip?”

“Both of us?” Tetsuya questioned, sitting up a bit more in his bed. He’d been itching for an escape for hours. Hours. The Hokage nodded and Tetsuya whooped. Two wheelchairs were brought in by medics. “Where to, Lady Hokage-ma’am?”

“Genma here is taking you to see an absolutely annoying kenjutsu mast—”

“Hayate-sensei?”

Miho felt the earlier hurt melting away at Genma-sensei’s comically hurt expression. He held a hand over his heart, looking down at her teammate. “What did I say about—”

Her view of her team was blocked by the Hokage, who easily slipped one arm under her shoulders and her knees to draw her up. Miho shuddered a bit at the warmth, feeling colder than she had with her weight. She was deposited in a too-large wheelchair. “thank you, Lady Hokage.” The woman smiled a bit, dragging the blanket from the bed and setting it over her legs.

“That vest doesn’t really go with your ensemble here.” Miho looked down at the gray hospital gown. Fingers trailed through her hair and Miho jerked in surprise, finding that the Hokage was straightening her wild, but limp, hair. “Genma— Did you seriously not bring the girl a brush?”

“Her parents did. It’s in the bag over there.”

The Hokage scoffed, shaking her head as she stood back. “I am sure that your mother would help you to get straightened up a bit more now that you’re stable.”

Miho nodded absently, raising both hands to drag over her hair.

“Doesn’t matter where we’re going.”

They parted ways with Genma-sensei and Tetsuya, with the latter rattling off every awesome thing about Hayate-sensei with a surreptitious wink at Miho over his shoulder. He was obviously weak, settled heavy into the chair, but his eyes were more alive than they’d been since she’d seen him for the first time after his awakening and her return. Tetsuya was alive again.

“Where’re we going, Lady Hokage?”

“Not too far. Figured we’d make a stop on the way to the gardens.”

The Hokage turned a corner and opened a door.

Miho’s eyes adjusted to the light, which was bright from the open window. The world seemed to focus and center. A million and one realities crashing into one another in her head, echoes of possibilities and futures and chaos. The past and the future. Gold and red and Miho felt sick. Sick and so ecstatically happy. All mapped into one person. He turned.

“Naruto.”

He stared back. “Miho?”

She wanted to stand up, to scramble up to her feet the same way he was. “Careful, Naruto.” The Hokage tried to caution, but Naruto continued to fight with the blankets until he was free, throwing himself off the bed. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when he started to fall face-forward into the linoleum.

Someone appeared at the last second, grabbing his arm to keep him upright.

“Idiot.”

Miho’s voice caught in her throat.

Before she could think about his presence, Naruto’s arms were around her shoulders. And he was crying. He was crying and Miho reached up to hold into his shoulders as they shook. He didn't hold her too tight, but tight enough. Enough that she felt secure. The only place she could look was the ceiling, which made the tears fall back into her hair. She gripped him tighter. Because he was steady. 

“Naruto… I’m—”

“I’m so glad— I’m so glad you’re—” He pulled back and smiled. Smiled as big and as bright and as warm as she had ever seen. It was a watery smile, with water under his eyes and nose, but it was so bright. “I’m so glad you’re home!”

Miho nodded as she was pulled into another hug with the Hokage’s laughter and Uchiha Sasuke’s scoff in the background.

For a moment, it didn’t matter. None of it. The terror that rattled her brain was silenced. The image of Chōji’s face as he turned and ran away was blotted out. Her father's shame vanished. She couldn’t see the nightmares or hear screams or explosions or any of the cacophony. She could just hear Naruto’s laughter. His joyful laughter as he cried and his tears soaked the fabric of her vest.

“I’m— I’m home, Naruto. I’m home.”

Chapter Text

“You’re being a coward. And I don’t want a coward on my team.”

Ino crossed her arms and watched as Chōji shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Never once did he make eye contact with her. Never once did he look up from his hands, which shook and bled. There were shattered boulders around the training field, scattered like fallen leaves. She cut Shikamaru a look as her patience began to wear thin. Her patience was already threadbare. Her emotions had already endured the gamut. Miho was alive.

Miho was alive and…

Seeing what Miho saw… Seeing what that bastard cousin of hers did…What her friend endured…

Ino had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling.

When Ino had raised her hand, tears in her eyes— so that she could see, so that she could understand— Miho had recoiled.

Then, she’d apologized. Like it was her own damn fault.

Miho kept seeing it, all of it. Her mind was never at peace. Not just this life and the horrors that were coming and the horrors that had happened. Other lives, too. Other memories. Memories Ino had fabricated over the years. Her dreams as a little girl. Her nightmares. So many scenarios. Miho thought in stories and Ino tried to protect her with narratives. And now, Chōji had only made things worse. Miho’s relationship with her family was already broken. Now, it was broken and bloody.

Chōji didn’t get it.

Chōji didn’t get it.

Chōji was being an idiot.

Chōji was really pissing her off.

“I let it go when you did it, Chōji. I kept that secret for years. Years. You kept it for months and it was somehow too heavy for you.” She paused. “Guess that’s what we get for thinking you were the strongest among us.”

“Ino—”

She held a hand out, and Shikamaru stopped in his tracks. She met his eyes, trying to impress upon him how done she was with this idiocy. He shrugged his tense shoulders, but he didn’t stop her. His silence was agreement. Shikamaru never abided by something he didn’t agree with, even if it was troublesome.

“I didn’t say anything because Miho forgave you then. Well, I’m done with it. You know what? You think she’s different? You’re scared because she’s different? You’re gonna run because she’s different?”

Chōji still wouldn’t look at her and Ino had enough. She threw herself forward, catching Chōji’s arm to yank him forward as she threw his weight off-balance. She’d sparred with him and Miho enough to know that their weight could be used against them. He didn’t even try to fight it.

Her teammate crashed into the dirt on his back, sending a dust cloud drifting over the otherwise empty training field.

“She is different, you idiot! She’s never going to be the same! Why? Huh? Why do you think she’s different? It sure isn’t because she’s so thin! Get over yourself!” Chōji started to push himself up, still keeping his eyes averted. Ino growled, pushing him down again and pressing her knee to his sternum. He wasn’t wearing his armor. He left himself open for attack. She felt good when he winced.

“Ino—”

“Shut it, Shikamaru.”  

“I-I know.”

“You-You know what?” Ino pressed her knee hard against his sternum, making sure that he was looking her in the eyes. “You ran. You ran away from her. Do you know how much she needed you? And you ran.” Swallowing down the swell at the back of her throat, she gouged her knee down a bit more before stepping off and kicking dirt in his direction as she strode away. “She doesn’t know what she’s woken up to! Do you think anyone has told her about the sanctions? What do you think she'll think when she finds out, huh? Do you think you have any right to not be there for her? You’re her brother.”

Ino leaned her head back to keep the tears at bay. Because she was not a crier.

She was a fixer.

But there was no fixing this mess.

“I— I shouldn’t be! I shouldn’t be her brother! I didn’t protect her from it. That’s— That’s why. I—”

“You ran because of your guilt.” Shikamaru summarized. "Not because of her."

Ino had the tears under control again. She looked over to her teammate, who sat where he’d been thrown. She tried not to feel guilty herself. He looked horrible. A mess. Only part of that was her fault, but— once upon a time— she’d promised herself that she’d never bring her teammates down. Not like she did in the Images.

“That’s your problem. Sort out your guilt by being there for her.”

“Ino, what…did— What did you see?”

Her eyes narrowed at him. The last time she shared anything with Chōji, he’d betrayed her trust. “It’s her business.”

His fists tightened then loosened as he slowly stood up, looking over to her. Ino flinched, surprised at the expression on his face.

Every so often, Chōji surprised her. He was a calm, sweet, and caring person. He had almost insurmountable patience and a kind heart. Her father always said that Chōji was the kind of child that would not have been a shinobi if he had a choice in his lineage. Her father always said that with a bit of sadness. For all his kindness, Chōji would have to kill, and her father lamented that.

Her father never said the same of her.

Looking at him now, she could see the Akimichi Chōji that had punched his hand through another person’s chest.

The one they had watched take down Jirobu.

“What did they do to her, Ino?”

Ino took a breath and swallowed. A cool wind struck the back of her neck and she shivered. “I put these traps in her head. Like what my family did to prisoners of war in the Third Great Shinobi War. I knew that someday someone would try to get into her mind without permission. It’s like— layers of false memories and fake connections.”

The Yamanaka Clan knew the mind better than anyone.

“Enemies could try to read the mind of the returned prisoner. All they would find would be useless.”

Shikamaru looked endlessly bored and tired, but she could see the slightest uptick in his brow. Chōji stared, face carefully devoid of emotion. Her stomach turned because…she probably pushed him to this. She wondered if…

If the Chōji she saw in the Images so long ago would survive.

“Every time he tried to access her spiritual energy, through the tenketsu in her head, he was diverted. Like a trigger. No matter how many times he tried, he didn’t get access. He kept getting thrown into the fake memories and realities I created in her mind.”

Ino didn’t know when she created the trap that it would do so much damage.

“He kept trying.”

Miho’d been tortured with it. Ino saw. She saw when the fake memories became real memories. She saw when the fake futures became real futures. A tired, exhausted mind doesn’t know fiction from reality. It’d been used for years, for decades, in interrogation techniques.

Ino saw when he started to use it against her.

To make her beg for it to stop.

To make her break.

"He used it against her."

All the false realities where they lost the war. All the false memories of other worlds. All the real memories of other worlds. All the real realities where they lost the war. He tapped into them, became them. Used them. Still, he could never get what he wanted.

Despite everything, Miho allowed Ino into her head. Shaking with fear, she still let Ino see her mind.

Despite what her kinsman did, she still trusted Ino without question.

Even more now than before.

No way in hell was Ino going to less than her best for Akimichi Miho.

“I’m gonna help her get it sorted.” Because she had to fix it— whatever was fixable. She had to. Ino scowled, turning back to Chōji and Shikamaru. “Chōji, I know it’s hard. You think you’re not strong enough. And that you screwed up, which you did, but don’t let it keep you from helping her. Because the moment you do is the moment you lose more than just Miho. Earn the right to call yourself her brother.”

She looked to Shikamaru before turning away and making for the main property.

“Thank you. For what you did.”  Miho had smiled. The skin of her cheeks pulled at her mouth in a way she’d never seen. Her bony hands shook as she held Ino’s hand up, palm open. “It’s because of you that Danzō didn’t get what he wanted. It’s because you protected my mind like that. I— Just…Thank you, Ino.”  She settled her forehead into Ino’s palm and closed her eyes.

Ino gritted her teeth and spun on her heel, stalking back to her teammates. She settled both shaking hands on her hips. Chōji didn’t recoil from her pointing finger, but it was a near thing.

“And one more thing! If you ever betray her trust again, Akimichi Chōji, I swear to the kami in this world and all the other damn worlds out there that I will end you.”

As she walked away, she heard Shikamaru’s dull “troublesome.”

To her though, it sounded a whole hell of a lot like “good job.”

Genma didn’t quite know how to explain it.

So, of course, he had Aoba do it for him.

Aoba, who sat in a chair between the two beds, shot him the dirtiest look he’d received in months. To be fair, he’d basically cornered the guy and then blackmailed him into this, which probably made Genma no better than the subjects being explained.

Genma lived in the gray area, so whatever.

Besides, Aoba was so much clearer with this kind of stuff. He got policies and politics. Genma didn’t see the point.

“So, the sanctions are because my family blackmailed the Hokage?”

Genma crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, rolling his eyes when Aoba turned to him for the clarification. Traitor. “Yeah, kinda. Because your father blackmailed the village. The Clan Head Council. It’s an upper-level secret…which means that everyone jōnin and up knows. I figured it best you knew sooner rather than later. Knowing the Akimichi, they’ll keep you in the dark until it becomes important.”

Tetsuya scoffed, but said nothing. He gave his student a curious look. The kid only shrugged. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, a bandana over his head. A gift from Rock Lee— an obnoxiously familiar color of green.

 An homage to Koji, Genma recognized. An homage to him. He never said anything about it.

“More like my father would.” Miho drew herself up and he could see a ghost of her former self there when she rolled her shoulders back so that her posture was better. Her color was returning slowly. Her hair was shinier and her eyes brighter and her birthmarks had more contrast. “He could’ve sparked a civil war.”

“Yeah.” Aoba nodded. “He could’ve.”

Genma could see the wheels turning in Miho’s head and he wanted to get ahead of it. He knew where her thoughts were going. The Uchiha. “The Akimichi are going to need to repair their relationship with the village. There’s a lot of distrust now. Especially if one clan can starve the entire village. It pointed out a weakness in our systems and lack of oversight.”

Even as he said it, Genma felt sick.

The Akimichi undermined the entire system and threatened civilians in the middle of it all. The Hokage’s sanctions were the only way to bring the Akimichi to heel while appeasing the Clan Council.

Even if most of the Clan Heads understood the action, there was no way they could support it. Only the Nara and the Yamanaka stood with the Akimichi. Even that was grudging.

“I bet my grandmother is after their heads.”

Miho’s head jerked around to stare at Tetsuya, who focused on his feet.

“That’s why it’s top secret. If word of the Akimichi Affair got out to the civilians, it would be chaos. The Akimichi are the main food suppliers for the village. If the civilians can’t trust where their next meal is coming from, then they’ll distrust the whole damn system.” Tetsuya looked to Miho, an apologetic tilt to his expression. “The sanctions are a way of forcing the Akimichi back in line. Enough that the council feels they will not stray again. Scaring them into submission.” His look turned thoughtful. “The Council— Elder or otherwise— wouldn’t want this getting out. It shows a lack of centralized power. It shows weakness. This won’t get out.”

Genma had to applaud Tetsuya’s insight. His grandmother may have been one scary kunoichi, but she was an even scarier politician. She’d raised her grandson to think in terms of politics as well, even if he hated the reality of it. Genma caught Aoba’s eye and raised his brows. Smart kid, huh?  Aoba shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. His grandmother was a fool to train him in politics and then abandon him as she had.

“An increased tax on Akimichi imports and exports…Of course the Daimyo would agree.”

“My family has a good relationship with the Daimyo.” Miho’s voice was level, but that was only a performance. Genma could tell she was shaken by the way her fingers gripped the blanket.

“The higher the tax on Akimichi imports and exports, paid by the Akimichi, the lower the amount of funding that is needed from Fire Country.” Aoba explained, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Until the sanctions are rescinded, a majority of Akimichi monetary support comes from missions…unless they start digging into savings.”

“Which makes the Akimichi subservient to the whims of the village.” Tetsuya sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The kid brought up both knees and rested his arms on them.

It was the most “normal” he’d looked since the trap that nearly killed him.

Genma might’ve felt like crying.

“The increased taxes make the Akimichi less independent.”  

Genma had to applaud and he did just that, pointing at Tetsuya. “You’re good at this.” Tetsuya frowned, obviously not taking it as a compliment. “Look, if your grandmother is the third best politician in Konoha, you better have learned something. Miho, thoughts?” Miho jerked as if struck, raising her head.

“I don’t— I don’t have thoughts. There’s nothing I can do about this. Father made a decision. That decision has consequences. He did it to try and find me. I appreciate— I appreciate that.”

Genma noticed that she was clinical when she said it and he nodded in reassurance. “You’re not indebted to him or the Akimichi for this. And you shouldn’t be. Chōza elected to do this. It will have an impact on you regardless. You are an Akimichi, after all.” Miho nodded, brows pulling together. “This is not the same situation as the Uchiha.”

She obviously stopped breathing at that, turning to stare at him. “Is…Is it not?”

Aoba shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

Miho didn’t look entirely convinced, lowering her head to stare at the blanket. The blanket that Naruto had brought from his apartment with a bright grin on his face that morning. It was an ugly orange old thing, but Miho had damn near cried.   

A knock on the door drew his attention away from Miho’s contemplative look and Tetsuya’s still-irritated expression. Aoba was the one that called for the visitor to enter, moving from where he straddled the chair. The door opened wide and Genma had to choke down his shocked gasp as the senbon dangled between his lips. He quickly scrambled to assemble his unaffected mask, glaring at Aoba when he stifled a laugh.

He was a skilled assassin and he did not gasp when make-up-wearing foreigners showed up at his team’s hospital room bearing a small green bag with a freakin’ pink bow.

Subtly, Genma sent Aoba a rude gesture as the kid stepped further inside.

Kankurō sure was trying to sell that he didn’t feel out of place. He had the confidence, but definitely not the execution. Considering the way his attention kept flying to Genma and Tetsuya and Aoba— and decidedly not at Miho— he didn’t know there would be others in the room. Kid was trying so hard to keep that Cool Mask on and he was failing beautifully.

Miho took mercy on him.

Because of course she did.

“Kankurō, what are you doing in Konoha?” She shifted herself up in bed, that damn vest seeming to swallow her whole. Genma watched, with no small amount of amusement, as the Suna shinobi looked her over with a mixture of concealed worry and, (Genma decoded), rage. Her eyes shifted to the bag. “Why do you have cookies?”

“How’d’ya know they’re cookies?”

“Smell.”

“Joint mission.” The kid slid right past her answer before nodding in Tetsuya’s direction. “Utatane.”

“Sup? You bring cookies on all your joint missions?”

Genma snorted, but tried to hide it in a cough for the Poor Painted Kid’s sake. The puppeteer shot him a scathing look, which might’ve been kinda impressive if it weren’t for the paint. And the whole Embarrassed and Uncomfortable Teenager Routine.

Aoba had way more mercy than Genma, stepping forward to offer the kid a chair.

“Nah, thanks. I’m not staying that long.” Kankurō’s attention turned back to Miho. “They sure messed you up, didn’t they?”

Sensing Tetsuya’s hackles rising, Genma watched Miho’s expression. She didn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered. She almost seemed comfortable, shrugging her shoulders in agreement. To a certain degree, this was probably because of the Images, she knew him in a way. That didn’t justify his visit and then….Miho smiled at him.

This was rapport.

They had a rapport.

What in the hell?

Aoba! What the hell is going on? He saw Aoba flinch at his mental yell. His friend glared. The sunglasses covered it, but Genma could sense the heat.

“Does Gaara still want to kill me? I’m easy pickings at the moment.”

“Chubs, what?”

Something— like disbelief— flashed over the puppeteer’s face before he scoffed and tossed her the bag from less than a foot away, standing almost directly over her. Miho’s hand shot up to grab it. Genma withheld a surprised snort. The guy was seriously checking her dexterity and reaction times like that?

“Why not just ask her how she’s feeling, huh?” Tetsuya’s voice was dry. Obviously, he saw the test for what it was as well. Genma valiantly kept himself from laughing at how casually Tetsuya picked up the kunai from the bedside table, inspecting it idly. Like it wasn’t a threat.

Damn it, his kids were so cute.

“Literally no one here cares if you talk like an actual human being.”

“You were right. The Aburame won.”

What?

“Told you.”

What?

“I’ll beat him next time.”

Miho nodded easily, agreeing with a foreign shinobi that he would beat her own countryman. She quirked her head a bit and made a waffling sign with her hand. “Maybe.” Kankurō grinned. That was enough of that. Genma repositioned his senbon and took a step forward, drawing the attention of the two.

“Not to interrupt this moment that you two are having, but… Miho has physical therapy in five minutes.”

Kankurō nodded, holding both hands up as he stepped away. Genma tried to fend off the urge to toss the kid from the window. Aoba was practically giggling as he leaned against the wall by said window. Maybe Genma was toss him out of it, too. He was good for nothing anyway. “Next time— when you’re recovered—we can spar.”

Miho met the kid’s eyes. “Sure.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe next time, I can make it out to Suna. And meet Gaara when he’s not trying to kill me.”

The Suna puppeteer nodded to Tetsuya, who gave a sarcastic, jaunty little wave back with his kunai in hand.

“Enjoy the cookies.”

Tetsuya gasped as the door shut, turning to Miho with a scandalized expression, hand to his heart. “He brought you cookies? Cookies? Are you serious?” Miho laughed, reaching over to grab the bag from her bedside table, which was amass with knickknacks just as obnoxious as Tetsuya’s stack of trinkets. “What the hell?”

Genma cringed, watching Miho pull a small cookie from the little green bag.

The damn cookie was shaped like a bear.

Damn it.

“No more cookies from foreign shinobi, Miho.”

Miho snorted, shaking her head. She grinned, probably the brightest grin he’d seen since Naruto delivered the blanket and spent an hour regaling Team Five with tales of his recent exploits. A little bit of the apprehension he felt faded away. Maybe the Paint-Faced Brat did okay. “Good luck stopping him, Genma-sensei.”

Aoba barked a laugh, covering his face with his hands.

“Excuse me?”

“Whaddya mean ‘good luck stopping him’?”

Genma tried to ignore the memories of an older puppeteer, heading up a support division and defeating a reincarnated member of the Akatsuki. If the kid did hone his craft over the years…Genma rolled the senbon between his lips and narrowed his eyes as Miho chomped down on the cookie.

The first solid food she’d eaten since her captivity.

She was probably right, Genma wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Miho.”

She turned onto her side, eyes focusing on Tetsuya’s face in the dim light. The scars were cast in relief from the lighting behind the beds. She was getting better at ignoring them. Tetsuya was turned onto his side as well, pillow stuffed in his arms. His cheeks were puffy from the odd angle of his head against the pillow. Her own cheeks would be puffy too, if she still had her weight.

“You let Ino see what happened.”

She nodded. She wasn’t sure why his voice was so quiet, but she answered quietly in return. “I wanted her to see. She needed to see.”

He was quiet for a long moment, a contemplative silence. “I’m not goin’ back to the Utatane Estate. I…I asked Hayate-sensei and Genma-sensei what they thought.” Miho watched the conflict that spread over his face as his eyes tracked away. “Hayate-sensei is gonna help me find an apartment. With two bedrooms.”

Miho shifted, holding the pillow tighter.  

Her mother had visited that afternoon, looking a bit more harried than usual. She lacked her usual orange eyeliner and lipstick. She delivered food, a whole basket of her favorite baked goods. Now that she’d been taken off the soft foods diet, she could start reintroducing food and gaining her weight back. Her mother had patted her hand, a softness to her eyes that made Miho reach out her arms.

“Chōji just needs time, sweet bun. He’ll come around.”  

Miho knew her mother was right.

She knew her mother just wanted her family back together again.

But Miho wasn’t entirely sure she could give her mother that. Akimichi Aiko was not a fool. “Mama…”

“So long ago, sweetheart, I realized something was different. I will say the same now as what I said then: It’s okay not to be okay.”  Her mother’s warm hands had held either side of her face. She remembered when her cheeks were plump enough to squish into her eyes. They didn’t. She was too thin. It was always uncomfortable. “One day, I hope that you and your father and your brother can…overcome…what happened between you. Until then, I won’t…I won’t force you. It wouldn’t mean anything if I did.”

Could she really do this to her mother? Leave the Akimichi Estate? Leave her home? Her gut said she could. She could leave, settle in with Tetsuya in some apartment, gain her weight back and train. She could get ready for what was coming. She could do it and…and she wouldn’t have any regrets.

“I— I— I don’t want to go home, Mama.”  

Her mother had stared and then, with tears in her eyes, she’d nodded. She could only imagine the heartbreak she just caused. “No…” Miho had flinched. “No mother wants to hear her baby is moving out.”  Sitting back, the woman blinked back her tears and nodded. “But a mother always wants what’s best for her children.”  

Something like determination lit her mother’s eyes and she could see it there. The desperation to make something good out of something bad.

Her mother was a baker.

She made sweet things out of nothing all day, every day.

“I have an idea, sweet bun.”

“Tetsuya… What if we…Tetsuya, what if we got a house?”

“A little out of my price range, Chubs. We’re genin, remember?”

Miho pushed herself up, looking at him in the dimness. She felt a stir of excitement for the first time since— “Two more roommates, Tetsuya. You think we all could cover a house payment?” She watched Tetsuya sit up, staring at her as if she’d grown another head. If this was what she did, then she could do it. She could move out and not regret it. “You and me and Naruto and Sasuke.”

“I get Naruto. It’s kinda a given in this plan, but Sasuke? Seriously? I expected Lee.” His mouth screwed up and then it seemed to hit him. “Miho, he’s got his family home. He won’t leave that. If he does, it won’t be to live with us and Naruto.”

The undercurrent of Tetsuya’s words was clear.

He thought Sasuke would still leave the village.

“He’s alone. He could not be alone.”

Tetsuya’s mouth opened and shut, eyes becoming sadder. “Miho…He’s—”

“He’s not gone. He should be gone and he’s not. Tetsuya, we can— We can try this. We can try. Ask. If he doesn’t take it, then at least we offered. At least he had the option. An option when Orochimaru didn’t even give him that. Agency does a lot for a person.” Miho held Tetsuya’s stare, willing him to understand.

“Yeah? What happens when he finds out what happened, huh? You really think he’s gonna stick with this village then? Agency won't mean jack to him then.”

Miho swallowed roughly, the excitement fading.

Tetsuya pulled the covers from over his legs, lowering one leg to the floor and then the other. The twist of his skin with the scars caught the dim light in reliefs and shadows. He moved across the space between the two beds. Miho moved over automatically, holding the blanket up for him. He laid down next to her, staring up at the ceiling with her in silence. His left hand held her right.

“He has every right to hate the village. He has every right to want revenge.” Tetsuya’s voice was a whisper. “The last time he loved people, they were killed in a massacre. It’s not that easy…” He squeezed her hand, sighing. They lay in silence for a long time, just staring at the darkness.

Sasuke was still in the village. He wasn’t quite the same as he had been before. When Miho saw him in Naruto’s room, she could sense it. Something seemed off. Something was off. There was something in his eyes. Like his mind was a constantly spinning coin and the world was waiting to see what side landed face up.

Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.

Sasuke wasn’t beholden to the whims of the stupid “Curse of Hatred.” That was what Senju Tobirama called it, right? No, Miho gripped Tetsuya’s hand a bit tighter, Sasuke lost his whole clan. He lost his brother, who massacred his family. The eldest to the youngest. His brother destroyed his mind again through Tsukuyomi.

Even with what she went through...there was no way she could understand. She saw nightmares that never happened. She saw nightmares that did. Her torturer wasn't her own brother. 

He was traumatized and grieving and hurting. Miho sighed.

“Genma-sensei wasn’t kidding when he said you were in some deep shit.”

Miho huffed a laugh, but it sounded a bit wet. She turned her head away, looking toward the light filtering in from under the door. The Akimichi guard had finally been withdrawn by Elder Torifu. That guard was needed for missions, Miho realized. Elder Torifu hadn't explained the sanctions to her when he visited to reassign the guard. Her master just patted her head and sat a pack of protein shakes on the bedside table. 

Her father blackmailed the village. 

Uchiha Fugaku almost coup'ed the village.

If Danzō were still alive, could her family have suffered a similar fate? 

Yes. 

Yes, they could have. 

They could have been slaughtered. “The Akimichi Downfall,” they would have called it. Her mother and father, the Elders, her cousins, her new baby cousin. All of them, dead. Her father blackmailed the village. To stop a civil war, the village would slaughter them like the livestock they raised.

And she was leaving them. 

Shivering, she shifted.

“A-A three-bedroom apartment at least?”

"Sure, Chubs. Sure." 

Chapter Text

—National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for— Tornado emergency for western Konohagakure and—

Above the clouds, the moon was red. Red like blood. Red with three circles and tomoe around it. The light came through the clouds, brighter than anything she’d ever seen. Brighter than the light on her phone. Brighter than sunlight. It swung under and through the clouds, like it was chasing her car over the wet pavement. It pushed through the trees.  

I miss the Earth so much. I miss my wife. It’s lonely out in space…

She couldn’t sing anymore. Not like she once could. It’d been a long time since she’d sung anything. Since well before the war started. I think it’s gonna be a long, long time. There weren’t any happy endings. And there was no way to escape this. Her little Jeep could never move fast enough.

Maybe if she got out and ran…

She slammed on the brakes, turning the car to avoid hiding an overturned cart in the road. She recognized the symbol on the wheels. Akimichi Produce. There was no way a civilian could outrun this. Unbuckling, Miho looked over her shoulder to see the light approaching. It was rushing down the mountainside and over the trees like a pyroclastic flow, drawing everything into dreams as it moved. It would arrive to Konoha soon.

She wouldn’t make it there in time.

There was no way she could make it in time.

She had to warn them.

Just as she began to push one foot into the dirt, she heard it.

“Listen to the winds blow, watch the sun rise…”

Stopping, Miho felt a chill rush down her spine. She recognized that voice. He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t—She turned slowly, knowing who she would see. He smiled. His golden eyes caught the light as it approached, seeming to glow. Miho didn’t know what to do. She could feel warmth on her shoulders.

His eyes tracked up and over her head.

“Run in the shadows, damn the dark—"

Miho scrambled back. Her hand found a kunai, drawing it up with her right arm across her chest. Heart buzzing in fear, she blinked a few times as reality settled around her. It was all a dream or a memory or… He was gone. The light was gone. Swallowing, she shifted forward, lowering her kunai to reach out to Ino. Her friend stared at it for a moment with wide blue eyes before reaching out to grasp her hand, chest heaving to recover her breath.

“It’s— It’s okay.” Miho tried to sound reassuring. It was a stretch. Her voice was shaking. She sat the kunai down in the grass and placed her hand over Ino’s quivering fingers “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It's not okay. Miho, I don’t—” Ino shook her head. She looked away and set her jaw, staring at nothing.

Miho watched, knowing her friend well enough to know when to let her alone. Instead, Miho let her eyes move around to where Tetsuya and Lee were moving through katas. Or, at least, they were before Miho’s awakened from Ino’s technique. They both were frozen in a movement, eyes on her and Ino. Miho tried to smile, but it was made of glass. It shattered the moment Tetsuya broke his stance.

Swallowing, Miho looked to Lee. He held her stare for a long moment before saying something that she couldn’t hear. Tetsuya nodded his head, reaching up to readjust his green bandana. He raised a brow as if to ask if she was okay. Miho nodded in return and she watched as both Tetsuya and Lee went back into their katas. They were both facing toward her and Ino now— keeping watch.

It’d been a week since she’d been released from the hospital. Her body was stable enough. Each day, she gained more of her weight back. Bit by bit. She was set at just 3,000 calories a day by Elder Ayumu. It would take months to get back up to 10,000 calories a day. Elder Ayumu was determined to see her back to her normal weight, a healthy weight.

Even if Miho was leaving the Akimichi Estate.

"Should that matter, sweet bun? No, it should not!" 

Reaching to the inside pocket of her vest, she withdrew some cranberry protein cookies and popped one in her mouth. Weight maintenance, endurance and strength training, and speed training were at the top of her priority list. She'd rebuild her stamina. She'd regain her speed. No, she'd be faster than before.

Lady Hokage had stressed that Miho be mindful of the stress her body had endured. She’d even threatened Genma-sensei with gate duty if Miho or Tetsuya landed in the hospital within the month. She had to be careful of her chakra consumption until she understood just how her system had changed.

“It’s not what it should be, Miho. He messed it up.”

Sighing— and trying desperately not to see his face in that terrible brightness— Miho nodded. “That was a memory and…and a reality…and an Image. It was a nightmare.”

Ino nodded, teeth grinding.

This wasn’t new. Ino had been trying for the past three days, accessing different tenketsu to remove whatever damage her cousin inflicted. Nothing had been resolved. Miho was fairly certain that nothing could or would be resolved. Just like her knee, it was a fact she would just have to accept. Pulling in a breath, Miho pushed herself up to stand. Ino mirrored the movement, guilt pulling at her mouth. 

“It’s—” It wasn’t okay. Miho knew she needed to stop saying that. It got Ino riled every time. “We’re going to look at an apartment this afternoon. Genma-sensei is coming with us.” Miho was perfectly content not to talk about the nightmare if Ino would let her. Ino never let her just ignore it. It wasn’t in her nature. “Sensei sounds confident it’s the one.”

“Did he ever access your memories?”

Miho reached down for bō, drawing it up. “No, I don’t think so.”

“How did he…” She trailed off, looking at Lee and Tetsuya, who were squaring off for a spar. “Don’t you dare!” Lee’s foot caught something and he tripped, barely catching himself before face-planting. Miho trailed behind as Ino charged toward them, finger admonishing. “Lady Tsunade said no sparring until the end of the week! Is it the end of the week yet?”

Tetsuya rolled his eyes toward the sky. “Just because you’re—” Her teammate didn’t finish his thought, snapping his mouth shut at Ino’s glare. “Freakin’ fine. Green Machine, laps?”

“Yosh! Laps it is, my friend!” Lee turned to Miho, hand fisted before him. “Shall you accompany us, Sweet Sunflower? If you cannot run fifty laps, I will carry you for three hundred! No! Four hundred! FIVE HUNDRED LAPS!” Rock Lee’s smile was so large and bright and warm that Miho found herself nodding, even as Ino scoffed and crossed her arms. “Ever youthful, Miho!”

Rolling her eyes, Ino turned on her heel. “Whatever. I’ve got lunch with Asuma-sensei and the goofs anyway.” Ino paused for a moment, looking back over her shoulder. Miho met her eyes.

She knew. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever.

She knew it would take more effort, more work, to sort out the kaleidoscope that was her head.

Normalcy was something she craved though. Something she craved like her mother’s yellow cake or takoyaki.

She was hungry for the everyday.

“Don’t strain yourself, Miho. I mean it.” Ino’s eyes cut over to Rock. Miho huffed a laugh, lifting an arm up to stretch. Tetsuya was muttering under his breath. “Don’t overwork her, you hooligan.” Rock Lee saluted dramatically. “Geez, the people I’m friends with…”

“Fifty laps! Let’s go!” Rock Lee put out a hand. Miho followed the tradition, slinging her bō onto her back. Tetsuya watched, still finishing his stretches. Miho’s hand fell on Lee’s and he grinned. “Let’s get it!”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s get it!”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s get it!

"Yeah!"

"Start!”

Even though her body was still recovering, still sore and weak, Miho felt euphoric as she took off. (Euphoria!) Her knee changed her gait into a strange, unsteady movement. It’d been healed as much as was possible, but even the Hokage had frowned at the way it restructured. The skin was tight, and she felt it move differently inside the joint, but Miho was running.

It was an uneven run.

It was a different run.

But she was running.

Physical therapy may never get it to move the same again. 

Rock didn’t take them on any leaping or jumping courses. Just a standard run around the village.

It felt like she was flying though.

“So, the Suna Trio is leaving today. Shikamaru told me.” Tetsuya slowed down to run by her side, breaths heavy. Miho rolled her eyes at him. He and Genma-sensei had still not let it go. Aoba-sensei had warned her. One visit by a friend and suddenly—“So…you’re not seeing Puppet Boy off?”

“You can do way better than ‘Puppet Boy.’ Put some effort in at least.’” Miho laughed a bit, trying not to grimace when her knee buckled a bit more than it should. She felt a click in the joint. If Tetsuya saw it, he didn’t say anything. “C’mon, Stringbean, try harder.”

“Puppeteer of Hearts. Knot a Chance. No Strings Attached. String Cheese.”

Miho staggered to a stop, hands on her knees and tears in her eyes. “String Cheese!” She laughed, dragging fingers under her eyes to mop up the tears. Tetsuya had stopped ahead of her, looking mighty proud of himself. His hands rested on his hips and his chin was raised. Beyond him, Rock paused and looked back, a big smile on his face. Miho felt giggles hit her again. It built into another uncontrollable laugh. “String Cheese! Oh man.”

She moved forward, falling to a run again. She kept laughing, even a lap later. Tetsuya was preening like a peacock, obviously pleased as punch by his own cleverness. Rock was joyful, jumping up to the buildings above them turning cartwheels overhead.

After seventy-five laps, she called it quits with Tetsuya. Rock Lee decided to go on with his three hundred laps before he was due to meet his team for afternoon practice. He’d leaped down from the building nearest to her, happily drawing her up into a hug.

He was taller than her now, which was weird.

She’d always been his height.

“Wait for it, Miho. You will get there. You will surpass yourself!”

She nodded into his shoulder and pushed him off with a grin when he bounded away, proclaiming that “youth shall never die!” He disappeared into the distance. Gai-sensei’s team was in for it today. With Rock Lee’s mood, he’d surpass each one of them in training. Even Gai-sensei would probably get tired. Gluten Free might actually walk away, his pride be damned.  

Miho was exhausted.

Absolutely and utterly.

Still, she felt good.

For the first time in a long, long time, she felt good.

Genma-sensei bought her six sticks of takoyaki when she arrived the Market Street with Tetsuya an hour later. It seemed that each team was meeting. Team Ten was training after lunch, she knew. Team Seven was resting after a successful in-village mission. There was also, apparently, some sort of issue with that mission. Miho hadn’t yet gotten the run-down from Naruto. Gai-sensei’s team was training as well. Miho fought off the random grief that struck her.

She’d never train with Koji again.

“I think this is the winner, kids.” Genma-sensei might’ve noticed her expression, even with his back to her. Tetsuya grabbed her hand and directed a stick toward his mouth, stealing a piece off the end. Miho made to hand him the whole stick, but he waved her off. “It’s a relatively safe part of town with good prices.” He looked back at them and winked, pulling the senbon from his mouth. “And it’s a four-bedroom.”

“It’s a what?” Tetsuya yelped. “Genma-sensei! You said we could afford this place!”

“You can.” Their teacher shrugged. “I’m a shinobi, not a liar.”

Miho recognized the area from when she was a little girl and accompanied her father on business in the village. There was an Akimichi Farmer’s Market nearby, owned by one of her cousins. To the east was the Uchiha Compound and to the west was Ramen Ichiraku. To the north, the Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka Estates. Miho stopped, turning toward the south. Wait.

“Yeah, yeah, Miho. I’m a jōnin, okay?” She turned to her teacher, who was feigning a very put-upon expression. “Just deal with it.”

To the south was Genma-sensei’s apartment.

“Is it a winner because it’s nice or… because it’s perfectly triangulated and defensible, Boss Man?” Tetsuya drawled, folding both arms behind his head. Considering where it was located, and the fact that their teacher was in ANBU, it was definitely both. Genma-sensei always put them first— Miho knew that without a doubt. He would want them somewhere safe.

Sans an actual response, Genma-sensei cut Tetsuya a look.

Miho laughed, shaking her head. She knew what was coming.

“Green’s not your color, brat.”

Tetsuya rolled his eyes. “Oh? C’mon, old man. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Old man?”

Miho interceded at her teacher’s dangerous tone. “Is that it?”

The building was cute. The first two floors had well-tended porches, with flowers set upon the iron railing. Miho raised a hand to block the sun, looking up to the vacant third floor balcony. It had a place to hang laundry. Genma-sensei held the door open to a breezeway entrance and a set of stairs toward the back. The back of the breezeway opened up into a shared courtyard between the back of the building and the business on the next road over. There was a small plot of untended land and targets on the chipped brick wall.

“Kunai.” Tetsuya observed. “This is a shinobi complex.”

Genma-sensei snorted. “As if I’d let the two of you and your roomies end up in a civilian establishment. C’mon, brat.”

Civilian apartments rarely accepted shinobi tenants. When they did, it was with higher insurance premiums and less access to training facilities. Civilian apartments also limited the amount of modification could be made to a space. Shinobi apartments had lower rents by the standard. Miho followed their teacher up to the third floor, where he approached #305.

“Genma-sensei, how did you know about this place exactly?”

“Three-oh-five? What in the coincidence?” Tetsuya tapped the number.

Their teacher grimaced a bit, shifting the senbon in his mouth to the other side of his lips. Miho saw that his eyes were sad. She stepped through, already loving the way the light filtered in through the balcony window doors.

“A friend of mine’s executor decided to put it up on the market.” Executor. Miho stopped, turning to Genma-sensei, who was parsing through the four bedrooms around the space, nodding as he went. She could see the way he scanned the place for traps and escape paths. “It’s already privacy-sealed. Just needs chakra activation. It’s a multivariable seal. You’ve got at least fifteen escape routes from the main space alone.” He walked over to a built-in bookcase.

Tetsuya turned and Miho met his eyes.

This wasn’t just a shinobi’s apartment. It was a senior shinobi’s apartment.

“Weapons storage in each room with main storage here.” Genma-sensei pulled down on a lone book resting on the shelf. The bookcase folded down. Storage space was cleverly concealed. Miho felt a whir of excitement in her chest. “Tetsuya, come here.”

Her teammate followed their teacher into a room to the left of the bookshelf. Meanwhile, Miho moved to the kitchen, running a hand along the countertop.

When she gained her weight back, as she grew larger, she would need space to move. The other apartments had been eliminated because the spaces were too small. She would never be able to cook with others in those other kitchens. They weren’t built with someone her size in mind. This one though…This one seemed like it was made for someone larger. There was even a large pantry to the side and a ton of storage.  

“The room’s got a sword rack.” Tetsuya informed her, looking positively ecstatic.

“Genma-sensei… Can I ask?” Miho looked at him over the counter as he and Tetsuya approached. Tetsuya crossed over to her side of the peninsula, leaning on it.

“His name was Akimichi Dōtō. He was a good man. A good friend of your father’s— I mean Keisuke-senpai’s— and Lord Fourth’s.”

“I’ve— I’ve never heard of him.”

Genma-sensei nodded, twirling the senbon a bit between his teeth. “Yeah. You wouldn’t have. See, Lord Dōtō was a powerful Akimichi figure back in the day, in the Third War. He was second only to your father, to Chōza. His brother was really powerful too, one of the ANBU Elite. They were some of the best.” Miho gripped the counter to steady herself. By her teacher’s tone, this story would not have a good ending. “Trained by Lord Torifu himself. He was on a team during the war…”

Miho held her breath.

“… with Inuzuka Gaku, Okuda Keisuke, and Namikaze Minato”

“My father? He was my father’s teammate?”

Genma-sensei nodded, smiling a bit around his senbon. “During the war, yeah. The four of them were a trip. Scary as all hell. Went up against some pretty incredible odds. They were usually on the front lines, scaring the shit out of enemies.”

“Hell yeah.” Tetsuya crowed. “They sound like badasses.”

Genma-sensei snorted. His tone was a bit wistful. “Yeah, they were.”

“After the Fourth Hokage died and his brother and Keisuke-senpai died in defense of the Fourth, Dōtō joined ANBU. Gaku joined too. They lived here. Gaku-senpai died in a mission about five years ago. Dōtō was the last of his team left alive. He died in the Invasion.”

Miho felt like some of her strength left her. Her knees buckled a bit beneath her, but she caught herself on the counter. Neither Tetsuya nor Genma-sensei moved to help, simply allowing her to feel whatever she felt.

“Teams often lived together during the war, sensei. They— They needed to be ready—”

“At a moment’s notice. Yeah.”

Genma-sensei held her stare. Four bedrooms. Miho’s mouth opened and closed, looking over to where Tetsuya stood wide-eyed. They were in her father’s old apartment. The apartment where Namikaze Minato and his team once lived. Where her father once lived. The excitement was met with the cold realization that it was left empty because every member of that team…was gone.

“It’s up to you two. Naruto will take you up on your offer. The Uchiha is another story. If he doesn’t take the offer, then you have a spare bedroom for anyone who needs it to crash.” Genma-sensei explained. He waved his hand idly. “Split three ways, the rent is affordable on a genin salary. It'd be better with four though. The executor will remain anonymous.”

“They’re in ANBU.” Tetsuya commented, pointing out the obvious. Genma-sensei sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. “That ANBU member has a place that’s not this place, right?” Miho smiled a bit, looking down at her hands, loosening their hold on the counter. Her teammate was such a caring person. She was proud of him. “Like— That doesn’t sound stupid, does it?”

Their teacher’s smile was warm when he looked back to them. “Nah. You’ve got a good heart, Tetsuya. The executor has a place of their own. I mentioned my kids were looking. They put this place forward. Seemed right.” Miho knew that several of their teacher’s friends were also in ANBU, including Aoba-sensei and Hayate-sensei. “You two talk about it. I’ll meet you at Ramen Ichiraku in ten.”

Ten minutes later, Miho and Tetsuya eased themselves onto the two stools to their teacher’s left. Ayame quickly took their orders while Genma-sensei fiddled with the senbon in his teeth. Miho could tell that he was waiting on bated breath. Despite the front that their teacher liked to put on, he had been so, so concerned over the past weeks. It was largely Genma-sensei that had dissuaded them from the first few apartments— too expensive, too dangerous, too open, too small, too far. She knew he wanted it to be a perfect first step. After all, he was the one encouraging them from the first moment he heard of the plan.

“So?”

“We’ll take it.”

Genma-sensei nodded, smirking around the needle. “Good ‘cause, funnily enough, I booked another genin team to help you get moved in this weekend.”

Miho’s mouth dropped open and Tetsuya squawked. “Free will is a thing, you know!”

Genma-sensei laughed, batting away Tetsuya’s pointing finger. Miho felt herself smile, too, seeing how alive their teacher looked after so long. His eyes were shining again. They weren’t as dark and sad and cynical. She had wondered, when she first woke to find Koji gone and Tetsuya injured, if Genma-sensei would recover from it all. Their teacher was a resilient man.

Between his missions, he was with them. Taking them to physical therapy, coming up with training regimens, helping them to find stable ground after.

After.

He could overcome anything.

“Thank you, Genma-sensei.”

He turned to look at her, taking the senbon from his mouth.

“For everything. It’s…not been easy. None of it. Thank you for…everything you do for us.”

Miho raised a hand and set it on Tetsuya’s shoulder. Her teammate nodded. “We’re lucky you’re our teacher, Genma-sensei.” With a shift in tone, he crossed his arms and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You ask me, you’re the best jōnin sensei out there.” Miho watched a slow smile spread on their teacher’s face until it was a full-blown beam.

It was rare for his smile to be so genuine. His smiles almost always had a sarcastic tilt, some sort of caustic humor. This one was sincere. He looked down at the counter, nodding as his smile faded away.

“Gimme a break! That guy’s gotta be kidding! Seriously!”

Miho recognized the voice, turning to see Naruto throw the curtains open. His one-track mind guided him straight to the counter while Iruka-sensei quietly entered after him, eyes falling on Genma-sensei first and then tracking over to Tetsuya and Miho. Miho lifted a hand in a wave.

“Yo, Iruka-sen— Miho!”

Naruto spun off of his stool, running over to throw his arms around her waist. Miho grinned, returning the hug. Her friend was practically vibrating. Before she could say anything, he jumped back and pointed beyond the curtains.

“That damn Pervy Sage left me hanging and went off on some mission and didn’t give me anything to do to work on my training! Miho, he’s useless! It’s— It’s— He’s a scam!”

Miho looked over to Iruka-sensei’s patient stare. The man turned to place and order before settling down next to Genma-sensei. His shoulders were rounded and weary. Just how long had Naruto been ranting to him? Genma-sensei clapped him on the back, smirking. Tetsuya raised both hands, turning back around.

“Naruto, you remember what my mother said about patience?”

Naruto puffed up, chest filled with a righteous sort of indignation. Miho just stared at him, waiting for that swell of irritation to pass. Sure enough, a moment later, he deflated a bit. “Patience and fortitude conquer all things." He parroted it, like a kunai was pressed to his back. "But! But! Miho, he just dropped me!”

Nodding, Miho shifted off her stool and sat a hand on his shoulder. “He shouldn’t have done that. That was wrong of him. Hearing the stories, he probably did it in a kinda underhanded way. A good teacher wouldn't do that. Still, we don’t know why he had to take off on a mission. Did he say?”

“Lord Jiraiya has a very specific skillset.” Genma-sensei commented, turning around on his stool. Naruto deflated even more. She knew that Naruto really respected Genma-sensei. It was so clear in the way he deferred to the man every now and again. She knew Kakashi-sensei hadn't yet built up that kind of rapport. “If he got called for a mission, Naruto, it’s an important one that Lady Tsunade needed a specialist for.”

Naruto’s eyes flashed. “Damn! So, it’s Old Lady Tsunade’s fault, huh?” Miho could see the wheels turning in his head. One arm lifted and his fisted that hand. Uh oh. “I’m gonna go—”

Miho caught Tetsuya’s eye, who’d turned a bit to watch the show. In an instant, an agreement was met. “Please don’t go yell at the Hokage. We actually wanted to talk to you about something. I was gonna come to your apartment tonight, but— Well, we just found the right place and…”

Naruto was calming, hands lowering back to his sides. Miho smiled.

She heard Iruka-sensei mutter something and Genma-sensei snorted, shaking his head.

“Naruto, me and Tetsuya are moving into an apartment not too far away from here. We wanted to see if you'd like to be our roommate.”

“You’re…You’re leaving the Akimichi?”

Anticipating the question and actually hearing it aloud were two different things. She could feel Tetsuya shift by her side while she saw Iruka-sensei turn in her peripheral vision. “I’m leaving the clan estate. Not the clan.”

“Why?”

Miho met his eyes. “Right now, our relationships aren’t healthy. And I don’t think they can be healthy while I still live there. Moving out will give us time to heal. Me and Pa…Me and Chōji…We’re not really good at the moment. I can...I can tell you more, if you want.”

Naruto’s mouth opened and she could tell that he wanted to argue. He desperately wanted to argue, to tell her to stay, to make sure she didn’t leave her family. After all, she was lucky to have one. She saw something cross over his eyes before his mouth closed and he nodded. His normally bright blue eyes seemed darker. 

“I would have moved out eventually. Now is just the best time. And my mother is in full support of it. Heck, even the Elders are in support of it.”

Her father, however, hadn't said a word about it. Neither had her brother.

Neither told her to stay.

“And you want me to…live with you?”

His wide blue eyes tracked away from her to Tetsuya.

Tetsuya, who used to bully him.

Tetsuya, who had called him “monster.”

She turned and watched Tetsuya hold out his right hand, scars twisting his face as he grinned. “You gotta pay your end of the rent, but yeah.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he sent Miho a wink. “You’re into plants, right? The room Miho thought should be yours has a small balcony. Good for plants.”

Naruto was still, quiet. “Me?”

Tetsuya lowered his hand, looking both sad and bemused. Like he couldn't believe Naruto was asking the question. Miho smiled, stepping forward to set a hand on Naruto’s shoulder. She lowered her head a bit so she could look him in the eyes. There was still a shred of doubt there. He almost seemed ashamed of it, of that doubt. He averted his gaze down and over, toward where Iruka-sensei’s feet shifted around.

Miho knew things were different now. Naruto didn’t feel as unloved or as uncherished as he’d been in that other world. His parents had wanted him. He had support structures that cared for him. Miho, Ino, Shikamaru, Choji, Lee...Her father and mother...He had food and guidance and… Even if his team was still fraught, Naruto was still…

“Then, you showed up and I got to see what a real family was like, ya know?”

Every day though, he returned to the same isolating apartment.

To an empty home.

After each day, good or bad, he returned to being alone.

“You, Naruto.”

After a moment, Naruto lifted his eyes and met hers. A slow grin came over his face before it was brighter than that light her mind had been running from that morning. He flew forward and she felt Tetsuya at her back, making sure she didn’t fall over from the weight. She couldn’t support that kind of strain yet. Naruto shifted, throwing his other arm around Tetsuya, who squawked. Miho laughed, patting Naruto’s head.

“Seriously? Seriously-seriously? This is awesome! I’ll be the best roommate! I’ll be an awesome roommate! Believe it!”

“Careful! Careful!” Iruka-sensei jumped up to grab them before they toppled out into the street. “Naruto, Miho and Tetsuya are still recovering! They just got out of the hospital! Be careful!”

Genma-sensei waved him off. “They can handle it. Miho’s been handling Naruto for years.”

Old Man Ichiraku sat bowls in front of the three open seats, returning to finish the teachers’ bowls. Miho noticed that one was larger than the others. Naruto whooped, throwing himself into the chair between the large bowl and Iruka-sensei. Tetsuya scoffed, throwing her a tempered look. He took the seat on the other side of the largest bowl.

Smiling, Miho sat and dug into the large pork ramen. Her roommates sat on either side. 

Genma looked up, watching the hawk that circled overhead in three careful loops. Sighing, he looked over to where the kids sat on the bench. Miho and Tetsuya were quietly munching on the mochi he’d grabbed them from a nearby cart. Naruto was standing, explaining his most recent mission and how it went FUBAR. FUBAR was on-brand for Team Seven, so Genma, of course, had already heard the details through the grapevine. The chūnin were close to starting a pool.

Team Seven—sans Kakashi— had been given an in-village escort mission. Which, of course, resulted in some sort of drama. Orochimaru had made some half-baked bid or the Uchiha, with significantly less planning and even less execution. Naruto and the Uchiha summarily ended the attacker.

Their record was growing and a pattern was emerging. Genma saw it as an excellent opportunity to make some money. After all, Miho would eventually gain her appetite back. Tetsuya was growing like a weed. They were both was going to hit puberty soon. His kids were growing up. He needed to afford snacks.

The hawk flew off— toward its next victim.

No rest for the weary, it seemed.

“I’ve been summoned.”

The kids turned to him. Naruto stopped talking.

“Looks high-level. Until you hear from me, normal procedures. Maybe go talk to the Uchiha. See if he wants to take the fourth room.”

He saw Tetsuya’s jaw drop. Miho laughed, shaking her head. With a wink, Genma took off.

In the autumn, night seemed to fall fast and early in Konoha. The sun was almost set in the few minutes it took for him to reach the tower. When he arrived to the Hokage’s office, Kurenai and Asuma were there as well. The two cut him grim glances. Raising a hand in greeting, he bowed to the Hokage.

“Looks like a party.”

“Seems your Oracle Student didn't catch everything.”

That brought him up short as he took the folder held out to him by Kurenai. He opened it, scanning the contents.

“You were on the retrieval team for the Scroll of Sealing. You were on-hand for the incident. Describe it.”

Rolling the senbon to one side of his mouth, he shut the folder and handed it back. “We were on a Level Two alert. I was patrolling the north forest. I ran into Akimichi Miho. She was searching for Uzumaki Naruto. She said that Mizuki told Naruto to steal the scroll. To convince the Hokage he was worthy.”

Lady Hokage scoffed. “Your girl is in the middle of everything.”

Genma rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.” He shifted, pushing the hair out of his face. “Mizuki and Iruka were battling when I arrived. He told Naruto about the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox. I poisoned him. Naruto finished him off. The Scroll of Sealing was returned. Mizuki was imprisoned.”

The woman held his stare for a long moment before sighing. “The possibility has arisen that a bigger mastermind was behind Mizuki’s actions.” She gestured to the paper that Asuma was holding. “That’s a clue. It was found on Mizuki when he was incarcerated in the Maximum Security Facility. At the time, nobody thought of it as anything more than a doodle.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Genma took the piece of paper.

Nothing ever was that simple.

Of course it wasn’t a doodle. What was the Third thinking?

“Then what is it, Lady Tsunade?” Shizune questioned.

Genma didn’t like where this was going. Knowing what he knew, it was likely the Third passed it off as nothing, recognizing the handwriting. When Genma caught Asuma’s eye, he knew that his friend saw it as well. There was a disappointed tilt to Asuma’s lips.

“I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it has the same handwriting as documents recovered from one of Orochimaru’s labs…where he was conducting human experiments.”

Well, shit.

“A note in Orochimaru’s handwriting found on Mizuki.” Kurenai summarized.  

Lady Tsunade waved a hand, eyes thoughtful. “It’s not like a chūnin alone could do much with the Scroll of Sealing. It would only make sense if Orochimaru were pulling the strings from behind.” She shifted, looking up. “Genma, Asuma, Kurenai. I want you to go to the Maximum Security Facility and interrogate Mizuki. We need to know just how deep Orochimaru’s influence went or goes."

It wasn’t a jōnin’s place to question the Hokage. Still, Genma paused. Asuma and Kurenai nodded without hesitation, taking off. “Lady Hokage, the Images show Orochimaru was in league with Danzō. If that’s the case, then it is possible…”

“That Mizuki was influenced by Danzō who was working with Orochimaru? Yes. That is possible. Hell, it's likely. We need to know how deep the cancer has spread." The Hokage nodded, glancing to Shizune. “I’ve heard rumors that your two genin are relocating out of their clan estates. I’ve also heard that they’re inviting Uzumaki Naruto and Uchiha Sasuke to live with them.”

Genma nodded. "I figured Cat would report back on that."

The woman sat back. “In only a month’s time, they will be out two roommates.” She smiled a bit. Genma wondered why she looked so amused. A genin was entering ANBU at only thirteen in 'peacetime.' Naruto was still being sent with Jiraiya while the village planned for Akatsuki. There wasn’t much to be amused about. “As soon as your two kids hit chūnin…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “A discussion for another time. Go.”

Miho shifted, trying not to feel unsettled by Uchiha Sasuke’s stare. Tetsuya and Naruto were at Naruto’s apartment, figuring out what needed to be packed and what didn’t. Miho had offered to talk to Sasuke, thinking it best that he wasn’t overwhelmed or pressured into the decision. Naruto had immediately puffed up for an argument.

“It’s his decision, Naruto. Honestly, do you know anything about how he’s been living since…since the massacre?”

Naruto had clamped down his lips, wringing his hands. “I—I guess I—”

“It’s okay. I just…I don’t want him to—”

“Nah, Miho, I’m…I’m sorry. You should go. That jerk should have…a home.”

Naruto had thrown his arms around her again before dragging Tetsuya with him down the street. Miho had suggested they “bond.” She hadn't necessarily meant that evening in particular. Naruto, of course, was never one to put things off. “C’mon, ‘Suya! Let’s start packing!” Tetsuya definitely glared at her as he was manhandled away. She had waved with the sweetest smile she could manage. Like sugar melting off a sweet bun.

“I know that you don’t know me well.”

“Naruto talks about you all the time. It’s annoying.” Sasuke responded, stepping out of his apartment to shut the door. Miho moved back, giving him space. His head jerked to the right and she followed him to an adjacent training ground. Miho wasn’t a fool. The fact that he even gave her the time of day was something. 

She wondered if he knew he likely had an ANBU tail?

Sasuke was a lot of things. A fool was not one of them.

His apartment was on the edge of the abandoned Uchiha District. It overlooked the empty district and the Uchiha crest above the gate. Vaguely, she wondered if he could see his home from the balcony. It was in constant sight of the yellow tape and cones that blocked the district from access. Miho had the sickening realization that she should’ve acted so long ago.

He has no one to cook for him.

It’d been so long since it happened and she’d never…

She couldn't even bring herself to approach him. And she'd known that he'd been suffering. 

She'd been given time to think over her actions. 

In a place with few distractions. 

In a place with too much time.

In different realities and fake memories. 

“You’re not overly fond of me, but you’re seeking me out. Why?”

That brought Miho up short. He— She watched as he looked up at the night sky. At the very least, he was willing to hear her out. And that, she realized, was one of his defining traits. Despite seeming otherwise, he did listen. He was perceptive. In this version of reality, he was traumatized and so, so very close to the edge. Still, the Cursed Seal hadn’t warped his mind. He hadn’t been plunged into darkness yet.

He still had a chance.

His family never had that.

Itachi never had that.

The Sasuke in the Images didn’t have that.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush.” He raised a brow in return, twisting a bit to meet her eyes. “Tetsuya, Naruto, and I are moving into an apartment not too far from here. We wanted to see if you’d be interested in moving in with us.”

“No.”

Miho tried not to let her heart beat too fast. The tone of that ‘no’ was cold, cutting. She held his stare for a long moment, trying to figure it out.

“I’m not living with you and the Idiot.”

She didn’t fist her hand, but damn if she didn’t want to.

Damn if she didn't want to swing her staff at his face. 

She'd never manage it. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. 

Power was a motivator for Sasuke. One of the only reasons he might choose to stay in the village would be the opportunity to gain power. The Hokage likely made an offer that Sasuke thought rivaled that of Orochimaru. He didn’t have the Cursed Seal, which affected his thinking in the Images. Regardless, each decision that Sasuke made connected to one thing: Killing Itachi.  

Miho had to acknowledge: he had every right to want to end his brother. Itachi massacred his family and then tortured him. Regardless of what pressures created those circumstances, Sasuke was unaware of them. He knew that power was the one thing that could define terms of his next engagement with Itachi. So that he wasn't hurt. So that he could have some control So that he could get revenge.

Could she really fault him for that?

Did he see Naruto as a weakness? Did he see anyone as a weakness?

Then why was he in Naruto's hospital room? 

Why was he still around?

Miho shrugged. The fur of her collar brushed her neck. “I wanted to extend the offer. It can give you strength when you come home to something. To a community.” Miho rolled her shoulders back and moved toward the exit. “I’m not gonna pressure you.” Her back was to him as she walked away, which she realized was a power move in and of itself. Or a message. “And don’t call Naruto 'Idiot.' My not overly fond will turn to strongly dislike.”

She noticed the way his eyes lingered on her leg as she passed him. She vaguely wondered if he thought she was weak. After all, she was still too-thin and her leg was obviously damaged.

“Why waste your time asking me?”

Miho paused in the archway, looking back to see Sasuke halfway between the streetlight and the darkness beyond it. She wondered vaguely if this world dealt in visual metaphors too.

A bright flash of light overtook her vision for a moment and she blinked, shaking her head. It disappeared. If the actions confused Sasuke, he said nothing.

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Miho pursed her lips for a moment before sighing, pulling a sleeve of cookies from her pocket. His eyes followed the movement. She ate five on a handful. She spoke around the food. “We needed a fourth roommate. You’re the only one outside of Naruto that lives alone. We wanted to offer.” Sealing off the cookies in the beeswax bag, Miho tossed it over her shoulder.

She heard him catch it.

“Please remember to eat. You can’t gain any strength back if you don’t eat.”

“Back?”

Narrowing her eyes, she half-wondered if he actually didn’t want her to leave. “You’re probably the strongest among us, Sasuke, but you’re not eating. Probably protein and vitamin deficient.” At his stare, she adjusted her stance. “I’m an Akimichi, Uchiha. We know when someone's malnourished.” She gestured to the cookies. “They’re protein-enriched. Let me know if you ever want more.”

He was watching as she walked away, but Miho knew that it was better to just let things lie. Pushing him would only result in Sasuke pushing back.

She was about halfway down the street when a siren sounded.

Miho stopped.

Beep. Beep.

A Level Two? For what?

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Danzō was destroyed. The Akatsuki couldn’t be attacking—it was too early. Still she saw an explosion in her mind. No, no, it wasn't that. There was no reason that there would be a Level Two alert. Her stomach turned as she watched a few stragglers on the streets hurry inside. She didn’t move. Genma-sensei had been called away for a mission. Her family— She didn’t remember anything hap—

Horrible visions filled her mind.

Different realities. Things she’d seen.

Blood over the Akimichi symbol.

The Akimichi Downfall.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Miho.”

The shattering.

It wasn’t five beeps. Not like the last time. It was two.

Two. Level Two.

It couldn't be--

“Hey.” Sasuke was there. “Come on.”

Miho jerked herself out of the stunned trance, following him inside his apartment. She immediately made her way to the balcony windows, not paying attention to Sasuke’s uncomfortable shifting. She vaguely wondered when the last time was that someone entered his apartment by invitation. She drew the bō from her back, setting the end on the edge of his carpet. If it were daylight, she might've been able to see the Akimichi Estate from Sasuke's windows, far to the east. In the darkness, she couldn't see that far.

“A Level Two at this time of night. It’s gotta be something big. Most people wouldn’t even be home yet and they wouldn't want to cause a panic.” Anxiety tore through her, feeling like indigestion as it bubbled under her shoulder blades. “The last Level Two was last year—”

Last year, when Mizuki tricked Naruto.

Last year, when Mizuki almost killed Iruka-sensei.

Miho’s hand rose up to rest on her left shoulder.

Naruto. Tetsuya. Chōji, Ino, and Shikamaru. Her family...

“Sasuke, sorry.” Reaching her right hand up, Miho bit the skin on her hand, pushing chakra into it as she pushed her hand into the floor. Golden smoke swirled about for a moment before a cub bounded out of it. Miho felt the pull on her chakra, felt it ebb and flow within her like a pebble thrown onto a still lake. She felt unbalaced and sank down to sit. Her vision swam. The Hokage warned her against using her chakra. With the way her body felt, she could see why. “Fuwa.”

“Lady Miho! You look so much better. So much better, Lady Miho! I was so afraid when I found you, and Lord Father told me not to be afraid. You are of Center Mountain now, cub-sister! I’m so happy to see you.”

Her back was to the window, but she had confidence that Sasuke would be fast enough to cover her, if anything happened. Nevermind the ANBU guard. She could sense Sasuke watching the interaction. “It’s good to see you, too, Fuwa. I have a request.”

“Anything, Lady Miho!”

“My teammate, my brother, and my mother have the Bear Seals. Please go to them, make sure they're safe, and report back.”

“Lord Tetsuya and Lord Chōji, right? And Lady Aiko, right? Right, Lady Miho?” Miho smiled, nodding to the young cub. “I will do this, Lady Miho! I will do this and I will be back soon.” With a salute, the cub disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Resting her hands on her haunches, Miho took a deep breath. Her eyes closed with it, trying to steady herself in the onslaught. She could feel Sasuke watching, observing. With a sigh, her eyes opened and she met his.

“Well. You hungry? Do you have food? I can cook.”

A body fell to the forest floor. Aoba sighed and released the half-rat sign, allowing the crows to disperse. Beside him, Gai slammed another missing-nin into the ground, leaving a crater in the grass. It was overkill, but who was Aoba to call Gai on it? He was probably worried, after all.

"Any word on Genma, Asuma, and Kurenai?"

"Still unconscious." Takajō Torikai shook his head. "Seems wild that even badasses like them can get taken out by sheer numbers." 

"The prisoners used the guards as shields. If any one of the three wanted to kill Konoha shinobi, they could've taken out the prisoners." Aoba was already feeling exhausted and they'd only found seven of the two hundred and seventeen escaped prisoners. "Genma alone could've taken them all out with his Poison Rain technique." 

Gai nodded. "Our colleagues attempted to protect life, but were overwhelmed in doing so." He could hear the conflict in his friend's tone. "Let us keep searching. We have to find Mizuki. Let's go." 

Aoba jumped into the trees, following Gai's lead. 

Chapter Text

The sizzling was a small comfort. Familiar. Miho found smells and the sound of food cooking to be one of the greatest comforts in the world. Just minutes before, there’d been nothing. A bunch of ingredients with no connection. Then, she cut the onion and sautéed it, cooked the egg, added the soy sauce, and stirred. Every now and again, she jolted the pan so the rice wouldn’t burn. All of that helped her forget.

For a while anyway.

Of course, Sasuke was never one to let things lie. “You have the Bear Contract?”

Miho nodded, giving the rice one final stir before turning off the burner. “Plates?”

“Here.” Sasuke stepped up and Miho moved away, letting him have control of his kitchen again.

She wondered for a moment if he realized she gained strength from cooking. It kept her anxiety in check. The worry from the Level Two and her instincts saying something was wrong. And the rippling sense that her chakra was off. Like it was roiling.

“I inherited it— the contract.” Miho handed him the first plate before shoveling some onto her own. Then, she decided to take a risk. “It’s been in the Okuda Clan for nearly a millennia.”

“Okuda?”

Miho nodded, taking the proffered plate. Sasuke eyed her, still trying to affect disinterest. He was doing a poor job of it. Sasuke had small tells. They were the same from childhood. Just the smallest flicker of interest or the slightest tilt of his head. “I’m adopted. My biological father was Okuda Keisuke and my biological mother was Akimichi Chisato. My Pa is biologically my uncle.” She fell into chair at the table, waiting for him to sit before digging into the meal.

It’d only been two hours since she’d last eaten, but she was so hungry.

“You’re not an Akimichi?”

As soon as he sat, Miho clapped her hands together. “Thank you for the food!” He stared at her, obviously not pleased with her avoidance. Miho shoveled the rice into her mouth and idly smiled around it.

Her brother ate when he was nervous. Most of her clan did. It was an Akimichi teaching. Imagine that the thing you fear is the food you eat. Consume it. Let it give you strength. Let it become energy that fuels you. Food has the power to sustain. Food has the power to give you power. Miho swallowed and looked Sasuke in the eyes.

“I’m an Akimichi. But I’m also an Okuda.”

He didn’t say anything, eating slowly and carefully. She wondered how long it’d been since he’d had a homecooked meal. He clearly cooked for himself— the frying pan seemed well-used. Swallowing, Miho sighed. She didn’t want to disturb him by talking. They ate in silence. Miho’s stomach gurled every so often and her body ached. It ached and her chest fluttered. And she never should have—

“I’ve heard of the Okuda.”

Miho’s head shot up, rice getting caught in her throat as she was mid-swallow. Feeling the pressure build, Miho turned and coughed into her hand, trying not to gasp rice into her lungs. After a moment, she swallowed again and turned back to Sasuke, whose expression was civil.

Civil as an orange.

“You’ve— You’ve heard of them?”

His eyes narrowed and Miho thought his lip curled a bit as he took another bite of rice. Sasuke rolled his eyes when she didn’t return to her food. “If you’re an Okuda, shouldn’t you know?”

“I only know what’s in scrolls. I don’t— I don’t discuss it much.”

Sasuke rolled his shoulders and Miho could tell that he was weighing his options. If he told her, he was committed to a conversation. If he didn’t, she’d stare at him until he relented. Miho could tell the pressure was building and finally forced herself to look away. Thankfully, a distraction came in a puff of smoke. Miho jumped from her chair.

“Lady Miho! Lady Miho!” A cub bounded from the smoke and Miho barely had time to catch the little bear. It was only because of a firm hand on her back that she didn’t topple with the weight of Fuma. “All is well, Lady Miho! Lord Tetsuya is with Lord Naruto. They are eating funny-smelling noodles. Lady Aiko and the Akimichi Lord are both safe! They send their regards! They said to be safe and to not run off.”

Miho shifted her legs so that she could better withstand Fuma’s weight as he leaned back to see her face. She felt Sasuke step away. “And Chōji?”

“Lord Chōji is with his comrades Lady Ino and Lord Shikamaru! They are currently on a mission! They said that you should not do anything stupid! The Lord Shikamaru said that you should stay put and not be troublesome. Like last time, Lady Miho!”

Huffing a laugh, Miho lowered herself down and sat the bear on the floor. “Like last time?”

Fuwa puffed out his chest, barring his canines. “I believe he means when I saved you from that horrible place, Lady Miho!” He fell onto his forepaws, licking at his teeth. “Lady Ino said that their teacher was summoned away. She said she is concerned.”

Not good.

Swallowing, Miho nodded and reached forward, resting a hand on his head. He preened beneath her palm. “Thank you, Fuwa. I really appreciate your help…again. Please send my best to Lord Ki and the others. Tell Shinrin I will call if I need her.”

“See you soon, Lady Miho!” The cub grinned and disappeared.

Pushing herself up to stand, Miho looked to Sasuke. “Seems at least two jōnin were summoned for a mission earlier. Not a good sign.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s connected to whatever is going on.” Sasuke responded evenly. Miho could tell he was suspicious too, even if he wasn’t willing to state as much. Still, Miho wasn’t an idiot. Both Asuma-sensei and Genma-sensei being summoned? It could only be A-rank or higher, right?

She nodded, mildly agreeing as she sat back down at the table. She dug back into the rice, noticing that it sat lighter in her stomach than before. Her family was safe. After a moment, Miho realized Sasuke hadn’t returned to his chair. Instead, he merely watched her from where he stood, face carefully devoid of emotion. She sat the chopsticks down, leaning back.

“You’ve got a question. Go ahead.”

“You were abducted.”

“That’s not a question, Uchiha. That was a statement of fact.” She held his stare before relenting. “Yeah, I was abducted. Not in the same way you were.” He flinched. A sore topic then. She didn’t quite know what to make of it. “They wanted something out of me. Not my power. I don’t have enough of that to be desirable. Something else though.”

Understatement. It was Ino’s voice racketing around in her mind.

“I got lucky.”

“You got out.”

“Used my last remaining chakra to summon Fuwa. He got me out.” Miho held up her forearm, picking at the skin. It pulled away from her arm like plastic, stretching in an abnormal way. Honestly, it made her feel sick. His eyes tracked to it, staying there even after she let the skin fall back into place. “We Akimichi store energy in our fat, right? I used two pills and it drained me so much that they didn’t figure I could use chakra anymore. They kept me pumped full of enough foreign chakra that they could access my tenketsu.”

“Why your tenketsu?”

Miho just met his eyes before letting her arm rest on the table. Instead of answering, she just took up her chopsticks again. Slowly, she lifted her left hand and tapped her temple.

“They wanted what was in my mind.”

“In…your mind…”

His eyes flashed. Comprehending seemed to dawn on him. Miho went back to the rice. She really did well with the seasoning. It was nowhere near as good as Tetsuya’s, but it was good. Next time, she’d add egg. “You should start buying eggs. Do you know how to make scrambled eggs? They’re simple but good pro—”

“You were tortured.”

Now, the rice settled like bricks.

Raising her eyes to Sasuke’s somewhat stunned face, Miho forced a pursed-lip smile. She could never understand what he’d been through. What Itachi did to him. What Itachi did to force Sasuke’s hand. To force Sasuke down a long and dark and hate-filled path. If Itachi had known before, would he have rethought? Would he have done things differently?

“Hate me, little brother.”

Sasuke needed to be strong though.

To survive what was coming.

“Yeah, Sasuke, I was tortured.”

Miho settled back in the chair, holding his attention. She carefully kept her voice level. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear a too-familiar voice. A voice that haunted her mind— nightmares and visions and memories.

“You know what? Some dirt feels too similar. Like it’s the same grain. When it’s under my fingernails, I can’t breathe. And some nights…Some nights I wake up screaming because I keep seeing it. I keep seeing the same nightmare. And then there’s him.”

She wasn’t really even paying attention to Uchiha Sasuke anymore.

“He’s in here. In my head. Now. Just when I think his voice won’t show up again, it’s there. Sometimes, I realize I’m dead a thousand times over. And he took every single one of my lives.” Miho swallowed and realized just how dry her throat felt. “He took each life and he…devoured them. Made them his. I can’t get his voice out of my head.”

With a shaking hand, she reached for the glass of water.

“Get stronger.”

Her hand paused and she looked at the Uchiha.

His once black eyes were red and narrowed. Miho froze.

“Become stronger. Become so strong that you can destroy him! Become so strong that it will never happen again! Become stronger!”

He was sounding more and more frantic.

“Get STRONGER!”

Swallowing, Miho let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She was familiar with panic. Ino had guided her through the Yamanaka approaches for dealing with panic attacks. She decided to mimic her friend. Did Lady Tsunade have Sasuke in counselling? Had Kakashi been around long enough to help in some way? Did he even bother?

“I’ll get stronger, Sasuke, but I already think I’m stronger than him.” He jerked, eyes widening. Her voice was level and calm and even. And confident. “I survived him. I’m a genin and he was a jōnin. He was endlessly powerful, and I didn’t stand a chance. What were my chances of survival?

"He wanted you to survive." 

"I’m alive though. I’m stronger than him and I will be stronger than him.”

Something dangerous flickered in Sasuke’s eyes and Miho fought her instinct to stand.

Uchiha Sasuke was not saved. He was far from “saved.”

He was teetering.

Like a rapidly spinning coin on a tabletop. Heads or tails, would it even matter?

“Sasuke.” His wild eyes focused and Miho couldn’t breathe. She’d seen that glare before— in the Images. That kind of hate-filled, cold stare. “You should eat the rest of the meal, okay? You can only get stronger if you eat.”

When he settled into the chair again, Miho wondered just how close he’d come to going with Orochimaru, even without the Curse Mark. And she wondered, not for the first time, what had kept him from going. Ultimately, Uchiha Sasuke was not a bad person. A distant one, a difficult one, but… Miho focused on swallowing down the now-cold fried rice. She felt the flash of rage subsiding as Sasuke picked up his chopsticks.

Maybe…just maybe…this Sasuke would have a different story.

The All-Clear rang across Konohagakure before daybreak. Despite the time spent in the darkness of Root’s dungeons, her body was still conditioned to wake at four in the morning. She had already been up for an hour when the signal sounded. Setting the dish on the table, Miho slung the bō across her back and headed for the door. For a moment, she hesitated in the open doorway.

Sasuke was still asleep, supposedly, but she knew better. He’d been awake nearly as long as she had, keeping silent so he wouldn’t have to interact with her. He was so good at stealth that he nearly got away with it, until Miho felt the slightest shift in the baseboards of his apartment. He knew his apartment better than anyone.

No way that noise was anything but purposeful. He was too good for anything else.

She’d prepped breakfast, not bothering to be quiet or feign ignorance after that. Still he didn’t leave his bedroom. Miho wasn’t one to force him into interaction. He was already kind enough to let her stay. Still, some vague part of her knew that he had to be warring with every instinct and manner his mother taught him.

A person like him could only stand so much interaction for a day.

Nevermind the emotional price of the previous night.

“Breakfast is on the table, Uchiha. And remember to get eggs, okay?”

The village was awakening. Shops reopened and people reentered the streets. Miho hurried down the blocks, breaking into a full run when Naruto’s apartment building came into full view. She took the stairs two at a time, using the bow to balance herself when her knee gave out every few leaps. She’d only knocked once when the door was thrown open. Naruto bolted out of the door, throwing his arms around her neck.

“Miho! ‘Suya is a damned prick! Save me from him!”

“I am not! I just ate the last piece of pork. Damn it, let it go!” Tetsuya gave her a long-suffering look, bags under his eyes and shoulders rounded. “He’s—”

“A DAMNED CHARLETON!”

Miho snorted, patting Naruto’s head as he stepped away, looking to her for confirmation. His ire abated when she didn’t immediately provide support. “Frankly, Naruto, Stringbean is the guest. You should’ve let him have the last piece. Did he cook for you?” Tetsuya scoffed and she already knew the answer. Of course he did. Naruto wasn’t yet a cook, despite her best efforts. “Since Tetsuya cooked, it was polite to let him have the last piece of pork. Did you know grilled pork is his favorite food?”

"Don't share confidential information." Tetsuya inserted.