Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Darkness slowly became a blessed friend, bleeding and worming its way into her soul until all she knew was its warmth, its cruelty, its loneliness. She was no longer the person in the flashes of the unimportant life she had before; that woman was long gone – dead, decomposing in the dirt alongside the decayed body she no longer inhabited.

She was simply there, floating in the dark nothingness, both cold and warm, scared and happy, curious and content. She was all these things and she was not.

Was she even human – or was she what humans deemed a soul?

Yet...the loneliness, the unknown, she knew it was now a part of her. Whatever she may now be, what once was separate was now ingrained into her very being, down to her core. There was no separation between the darkness and herself, so embedded within her that to separate one would result in nothing.

Just her.

“Izumi!”

A distant voice; small but echoing all around her. The name may have been unfamiliar but it called to her nonetheless, a strange pull from death, drawn to its echo. She didn’t even hesitate to follow after the voice, searching for the owner of the one who called out for an Izumi.

Was this someone just like her, alone in the dark? Was she no longer alone?

“Spirits...please tell me she’s okay–”

Would she finally have a companion in this dark eternity?

“Aniue, please–” A pause before– “Madara, you’re crowding me! I can’t work with you breathing down my neck like that!”

She froze, stopping in her tracks. The voice, it wasn’t speaking to her, but rather to a Madara – a word, a name, that for some reason brought with it confusion and heartache and pain–

Her brother, even though annoying, forcing her to watch an anime with him because Mom and Dad are at a dinner–

She stopped.

What was that?

...A memory?

Impossible – she was no one. She had no name nor face, let alone memories of a person she no longer knew. Her past life was inconsequential. She was just a blimp floating amongst the nothing.

But there was a traitorous part of her that had stayed hidden until this very moment, finding an opportunity to grip onto the scraps of life with all of its strength. It was a hold that grew stronger by the slivers of hope poisoning her mind with thoughts that shouldn’t have belonged. Her soul was being ripped apart by the sudden memories of a young child, a boy no older than ten; it was an agony she shouldn’t be familiar with, yet was–

“–Hey, watch this show with me; it’s supposed to be really popular.”

She looked up from her phone, halfheartedly listening to her brother. “I don’t know, I’m pretty busy.”

“Aww, come on!” He grabbed her hand and began pulling her in his general direction. “You don’t look like you’re doing much.”

“Will you –”

He quickly let go, instead grabbing her phone. He managed to rip it out of her hand and dangle it before her. “I’ll give it back if you watch tv with me.”

Rising to her feet, she reached for the device but he jumped back, resulting in a bark from their elderly dog by their feet.

“Come back here, you little shit,” she growled, grateful for the lack of adults in the house.

“Watch it with me and you’ll get your phone back.” He shrugged. “Simple.”

Not wanting to deal with a tantrum and fight, she finally relented and closed her eyes, recognizing that she would, in fact, lose this battle. “...Fine, if that’ll get you to shut up.”

“Really?” He handed it back to her with a look of satisfaction, a smile adorning his face. “Can’t believe that worked!”

“What’s this show even called?” she asked in annoyance, pocketing her device and following him into the living room.

“Naruto.”

“Naruto?” She couldn’t help but scoff, rolling her eyes. “Everyone watches Naruto dipshit, why’d you choose now to start? Besides, isn’t it a little old for you?”

“I’m not watching the old Naruto. I’m watching the new one – Shippuden.” He paused the screen before whirling around. “Wait, you’ve watched it?”

“Yeah, like I said, it’s been popular for a while.” Throwing herself down onto the couch, she waited for her little brother to put the show on. “It’s a good anime, I guess. A bit overrated if you asked me.”

“Whatever. I’m at the part where they’re fighting this dude named Madara…”

With the sudden reappearance of the memory, of the very intangible proof that she had lived a life, of the very existence of the little boy that she had clearly loved so much, she began to feel a...desire – a desire to live, to be able to see her loved ones again. But it should’ve been impossible; she wasn’t supposed to remember, to feel, to want. She was supposed to be content in this surrounding darkness, with no thoughts or wants other than just being–

“Aniue, I think she’s waking up.”

Because she was dead, dead dead dead–

“Don’t push me Izuna, you’ll be able to see her too!”

No.

She refused to succumb to death, to this accursed oblivion. For the first time since her reawakening, whatever it may be, she knew what she wanted.

She wanted – no, needed a body, she needed a body–

“Izumi, hey, be careful. You’re hurt–”

–because she was going to live.

0O0

Izumi and Izuna were twins, born into a world at war. The two youngest of five siblings were indeed a handful as the twin terrors of their family and it was only exacerbated by the middle child, Arata, and the chaos he also loved to sow alongside them.

Despite the surrounding war, they were still a loving family – or as loving and happy as one could be with an absent father, a man gone on clan business more often than not. He left the raising of his children to a caretaker and each other, trusting that they would learn what was needed when the time came to be. He was, after all, the head of the Uchiha clan; he had much more important issues to deal with other than child-rearing.

Besides, the children were aware of the importance of their father’s position, the responsibilities it entailed. Even at the age of five, the twins understood this.

Tajima was aware that this was not ideal. He knew his late wife would have had his head for how he was treating their children after her death, But he couldn’t look at them for too long, not without recalling their mother and the soul-splitting pain that accompanied this heartbreak. He had tried to be the father they should have had, only to fail every time.

He no longer had room for love. He knew this, his children understood this, and all was well.

And to the children, it didn’t matter because they had Madara. The oldest boy watched over them all, protecting them with an intensity that cocooned them as though a soft warm blanket, a protective shield from the true horrors of the world. Yes, Madara was only a child himself and could only do so much before something inevitably would occur that he couldn’t fix, but he did the very best he could.

Madara feared the day that his makeshift protective bubble would burst and so he knew the only thing he could do was protect his loved ones. He took his role as protector much too seriously for his nine-year-old self but he refused to complain otherwise – he wouldn’t, not when his younger siblings were the most important people in his life.

They were his everything.

Playful screams rang out throughout the courtyard of their home as Madara watched his younger three siblings running around each other, playing tag with Izuna as the demon chasing them. Like him, Katsumi sat in the shade on the patio, reading a scroll in his lap.

All was well, all was calm, and Madara was happy.

He had his hands in his sleeves, resting on his knees, just basking in the cool spring air and the comfortable temperature when suddenly, a loud cry rang out. Madara’s eyes flew open as he shot up. He didn’t think or hesitate, his legs already moving before he even realized what was happening. He rushed over to where Arata was kneeling over his sister, the little girl’s eyes closed with blood muddying the dirt ground as Izuna was attempting to rouse her.

“Move,” he ordered, pushing him to Arata. No words needed to be said to the older seven-year-old who grabbed Izuna’s shoulders, pulling him back. “Katsumi!” Madara yelled out for the eight-year-old who had also jumped up at Izumi’s cry. Madara called out for the second oldest because he was the only one who knew any form of first aid, an apprentice to the clan’s best healer.

Madara may have been training to be a shinobi and the next clan head, but he had barely paid any attention to the first aid section of his classes. It was a failure that he vowed to remedy from here on out.

Thankfully, Katsumi was already running over, hands aglow in green within seconds. It was an agonizing few minutes for the Uchiha siblings as they stood around uselessly, simply watching as Katsumi’s brows furrowed and sweat dripped down the sides of his face, trying his best to help their sister. It wasn’t long before he finally sat back, chest heaving as though he had run a marathon, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

“What did you do?” Madara whispered. Katsumi took a shaky breath before answering.

“I only stopped some of the bleeding – that’s all I can do.” Katsumi turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. “I don’t think it's enough. We’ll have to call for–”

“Izumi?” Izuna’s question was loud and immediately, all attention went to the little girl. Her eyelids were fluttering and the boys all watched as they scrunched up, creasing her forehead, before she groaned.

Katsumi had his hands out, hovering over her. “Izumi, hey, be careful. You’re hurt–”

All the while, a strange occurrence unbeknownst to the boys was happening within the little girl.

As they called out for her, Izumi – was she Izumi or was she someone else who was she – felt the warmth of what she instinctively recalled from a distant distant memory of the sun all over her. With a rush, there was a sudden overload of sensations, as what was once blissful ignorance in the darkness floating amongst the nothing was now unadulterated feeling. She could sense things all around her, touching her, a strange energy humming right below her skin. Was she alive? Was she gifted with the one thing that she had desired?

“Is she okay?”

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

With great effort, she complied, opening her eyes and–

–and the first thing she saw, with no surprise at all, was harsh sunlight blaring down on her. On reflex, her eyes began watering before she blinked away the tears forming from looking directly into the sun.

“Izumi?”

Izumi? What a strange name and the voice even stranger, different from the one who called for the girl before. It was somewhat deeper but still high enough for her to recognize that it belonged to a child.

Raising a shaky hand to her face, her mind didn’t hesitate to inform her of the new body she somehow possessed. In midair, she felt herself freeze, a scream building up at what she saw. Her hand – it was too pale, too...small.

What happened to her?

“Izumi?”

Looking to her left, a group of children either kneeling or standing before her, all staring at her with a mixture of concern and fear in their eyes. The largest of the four shifted closer to her, his hand outstretched.

“Are you okay?”

She flinched away from the friendly gesture, eyes widened with fear and confusion. She looked at their faces, the beginnings of irrational panic quickly closing in on her.

Who were they – and better yet, who the hell was Izumi? These children, they spoke to her in clothes that were in stark contrast to those she could recall from her fleeting memories. Their Japanese was strange as well – why could she understand the language? Did she speak it before? All of the suddenness of everything intensified the panic beginning to overflow in her chest.

“Aniue, what’s wrong with her?”

At the tiny voice, she whirled to the left. A boy was trying to come closer to her, but she couldn’t–

She couldn’t breathe–

Hyperventilating, she pushed herself back until she hit something trying to get away from him, from them all.

A tree? Was that…bark?

There was too much happening – the world was coming into focus too quickly, colorful and bright and she couldn’t grasp how the world was so different. Maybe being in the darkness was a blessing in disguise, with no concern for anything but simply being–

–because now, her body ached, her head in particular, and quite frankly, she felt as though her soul hurt. She didn’t feel…whole. A part of her body was clearly reacting to her sudden existence, that strange humming sensation that lingered beneath her skin growing in intensity. It roared against any attempt at her control, slipping from her weak attempts to calm down the overbearing sensation of everything.

Forcing her eyes to open the slightest amount, she was able to take in all the faces around her. They were similar but not and a part of her somehow knew they were siblings.

Did…that mean she was like them too? That they were this body’s – her body’s – siblings?

“Izumi?”

Gulping, she turned to the boy who called out that name again.

Oh.

Of course. How stupid was she to not understand that she was Izumi.

She wasn’t…whoever she was before anymore – not that it truly mattered at the end, unable to even recall her old name. Although she found herself willing to accept her new circumstances, something seemed to push back. Whether it was the head wound she must have sustained earlier or the strange transition into a new body, Izumi wasn’t quite sure.

She just felt…off.

She groaned in pain from the quickly growing headache, a tiny hand pushing with all her might against her eye as the world suddenly began to swirl around her. But somehow, the boys around her took this as a sign of her being okay. She was responding, albeit with pain, and even to her, she felt the tense air dissipate.

Before anyone could stop him, the smallest of the boys jumped onto her, the rest bowing their heads in relief a moment before. A sound of air left her chest as the body collided with her – and the sudden movement was a catalyst, a sharp pain in the back of her head causing a cry to erupt from her throat.

“Izuna, what the–” Hands grabbed the boy who must have been Izuna, pulling him away from her– “Give her some space!” The boy with the longest hair proceeded to quickly pick up Izuna with ease, another brother rushing to Izumi’s aid. “Katsumi, check her wound,” the boy with the long hair ordered.

The second oldest reached for Izumi as he started to kneel. “Hey, you’ll be okay–” Eyes wide, he barely managed to grab her it in time before her eyes rolled back, falling unconscious. Tremors suddenly erupted from her body and Katsumi quickly moved her to her side, where his hand immediately glowed green with the telltale sign of medical ninjutsu. But being a child his knowledge of it was mediocre, and with the sudden seizure, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to help his younger sister.

Madara continued to carry Izuna in his arms as he tried to assess their current situation. As the oldest brother, his job was to ensure his younger siblings’ safety, to make sure they stayed uninjured; yet, because of his inability to simply pay attention, Izumi was now sporting a serious head wound that refused to stop bleeding while seizing.

“Arata, go notify Keiko-san about Izumi, tell her we need a healer at the main house now,” he quietly ordered.

The boy didn’t hesitate as he shot off, back to the house where their housekeeper was. Madara turned back to Katsumi, who was now touching Izumi again with glowing hands. She had stopped shaking but Madara wasn’t sure if that was a good sign and he was scared to ask otherwise.

There was so much tension between the boys and with Izuna hiding his face in Madara’s neck, the older boy’s arms began to shake from the weight. He wouldn’t let go, though, determined to be a comfort for the obviously scared Izuna.

“Arata’s calling for a healer now – should we move her?”

Katsumi frowned, looking between the house and Izumi before coming to a decision.

“I think we can.” Katsumi took his hands off of her. “Once a healer comes to check her vitals, they’ll tell us what to do next.” Madara remained silent for a minute but feeling the tremors from the little boy in his arms had him quickly agreeing.

“Alright. You’ll have to carry her back. Can you manage?”

“I’ll be fine.” With a slight grunt, Katsumi was able to hoist the young girl onto his back, and within a matter of seconds, the siblings were ready to leave. Being that they had been hanging around the open field near their home, it didn’t take them long to reach the house. With a flurry of opening slide doors and the pitter-patter of feet, Izumi was soon lying on a futon with gauze neatly wrapped all around her head, Katsumi’s hand glowing above her once more.

A healthy flush returned to Izumi’s face with whatever Katsumi had done to help – though he now looked like he was on the brink of death, skin pale and tremors running through his hands. There wasn’t much anyone could do now while they waited for a healer to arrive, simply banking on his abilities to ensure that Izumi was stable for the time being.

Madara was practically holding his younger brother up as Katsumi swayed where he sat.

“Aniue, I’m fine.” Madara pursed his lips when Katsumi batted off his hands. “I just used too much chakra.”

“You don’t look fine,” he grumbled, finally sitting back down beside his younger brother. He still kept an eye on the boy, though, the ill pallor of his skin concerning him.

Arata sat by the door beside Izuna, the duo clearly in distress from today’s events. Both of their eyes were rimmed with tears, Izuna’s more so than Arata's. But despite this, he watched Arata place a hand on top of Izuna’s head as they began to talk between the two.

Good, he thought. He wouldn’t have to worry too much about Izuna, not with Arata there.

So he stayed beside Katsumi, worried for the boy but also because he needed to watch Izumi. He heard Katsumi sniffling so he mimicked Arata, placing a hand on the boy’s head, forcing a smile. This was easy. He knew how to play the role of the reassuring oldest brother because it was one he did all the time.

“It’ll be okay. Keiko-san is getting Kenji-sama. He’ll know what to do.”

Katsumi looked conflicted, lost in thought. “...What about Father? He’ll be back soon.”

At the mention of their father, Madara felt all the air leave his body. How could he have forgotten?

“It’ll be okay,” he lied. The deadpan look his brother shot him made Madara wince.

But their conversation was on pause for the time being as they all heard a commotion from the front of the house, accompanied by an unfamiliar voice – Kenji-sama had arrived.

For the next hour, the boys all watched the experienced healer do his job, going through several jutsus and strange tinctures in jars he brought along with him. It was only when Keiko knocked on the door before sliding it open and announcing the arrival of Tajima that everyone in the room shot up from their seats. Tajima walked in a few moments later and everyone in the room bowed, the children included.

“Tajima-sama,” Kenji greeted.

“Kenji-san.” Tajima looked at all the children before his eyes landed on Madara. He seemed to think for a few seconds before announcing, “Children, I think Keiko has dinner ready for you all.” An obvious dismissal. Before Madara could dart out of the room along with his siblings, desperate to escape the disappointment from his father, Tajima grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place. “Madara, you will stay.”

The boy felt the clamminess of his hands multiply tenfold but he forced himself to nod, blatantly ignoring the concerned look on Katsumi’s face as the younger boy left the room. It was inevitable – there was no disobeying his father, not now nor ever, really. He was foolish to have even thought he’d have a chance to escape.

Soon, he was left with the two adults where he stood awkwardly beside Tajima as Kenji repeated what Katsumi had explained to him earlier, along with his official prognosis. Overall, Izumi would be fine and with a few weeks’ worth of rest, she should be good as new. A good thing for them all and he was pleased when the healer mentioned that Madara’s quick decision to retrieve a healer was the smart one.

But when his father’s cold eyes flitted to him, any gratification from the praise disappeared as his heart stopped.

What would he say? Father was definitely mad that Izumi had gotten hurt on his watch, so what would his punishment be? He wouldn’t nor couldn’t blame Father, not really, because his failures to watch and protect his siblings were what caused Izumi to get hurt this badly in the first place.

“Thank you, Kenji-san.” Father bowed his head to the older man. Madara helped the healer collect his supplies and he cursed the fact that Kenji was meticulous, as they had managed to put everything away in his boxes within minutes. In the blink of an eye, Madara was left alone in the room with Tajima, his anxiety imagining every worst-case scenario regarding his punishment.

Awkward silence rang between the two. Madara allowed himself a second of selfishness to miss who his father was before his mother’s death. Tajima had been…softer – and the word was used loosely – with the children, much more a parental figure than what he had become now. But he understood the pressure that his father was now facing as Clan Head, had sneaked glances at his father’s scrolls in his study regarding remarrying or alliances, so he kept these thoughts hidden deep in his subconscious. His father didn’t need him, out of all people, to weigh him down in his fight against the Senju.

“I’m sorry,” Madara suddenly burst out, bowing deeply at his waist. He gritted his teeth and held back the flood of tears that threatened to escape his control. Should he kneel on the ground, put his head against the ground and grovel instead? He didn’t know what to do and his father’s lack of response was making everything all the much worse. “I-I take full responsibility–”

“Madara–” Tajima interrupted. He heard his father sigh but nothing else came out of the sentence. Taking a chance, Madara tilted his head up – still bowing, of course – and saw his father pressing a hand against his eye. For once, he had put down the strict barriers he typically kept up. “Stand up straight. You’re not in trouble.”

Obeying, Madara quickly straightened his back, spine and shoulders tight. There was a flicker of…something in Tajima’s eyes as he looked at him but it was quickly masked before Madara could decipher what it meant.

“I’m…not?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I won’t repeat myself,” Tajima said gruffly. He walked around to the other side of Izumi’s futon and sat down, resting a hand on one knee. “Katsumi told Kenji that she fell and I doubt any one of you hurt her. There isn’t anything in the world that can stop an accident.”

“But–” Tajima shot him a sharp look, effectively shutting Madara up. That’s right, he thought. His father was rarely one to repeat his statements. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

His father wouldn’t stop staring at Madara, scrutinizing him for something, and once again his anxiety began to rear its ugly head by reminding him of today’s failures. They were lucky this time that Izumi would be fine but next time, any one of them could be seriously hurt–

“I now see,” Tajima began carefully, bringing Madara out of his thoughts, “that I may have been too direct in what I said to you about watching over your siblings.”

“No–”

“You are all children; you will get hurt. Will you blame yourself when Katsumi comes back from training, nursing a bruise? Or how about when Arata was sporting his black eye the other week from a fight he refused to tell you about?” Madara opened his mouth but nothing came out – because his father was right. “Exactly. There will be times that you and your siblings will get hurt and there’s simply nothing you can do about it. I told you to watch over your brothers and sister not only because you’re the oldest, but because you should want to.”

“Of course I do–”

Tajima waved his hand, instead patting the seat beside him. “Sit.” Madara moved around, taking a careful seat beside his father.

Tonight was not going the way he had expected it to – he had expected punishments, yelling, any of the sort. Instead, Tajima looked at him as though he was seeing him for the first time. With trepidation, his father raised a hand and gently placed it on Madara’s shoulder, the grip solid and firm. The warmth brought a sense of safety, a sensation that made Madara crave so much more. It was so few and rare nowadays that Tajima’s attention would be directed towards any of them, so when he did give it, each and every one of the siblings would jump at the opportunity.

“Accidents happen.” Then taking a long look at his only daughter, Tajima said, “She’ll be okay. That is all that matters.” Madara nodded. He tried to control the burning in his eyes, the tears that threatened to rush out of him, and Tajima must have noticed because his hand suddenly moved to the back of Madara’s neck, holding firm. “You will be okay.” Another quick nod and a quick sniff, his father gently ruffled his hair and let go, rising to his feet. “Now let’s go join your brothers for dinner. Kenji said Izumi won’t be waking up for a few hours.”

Although Madara had some trepidation about leaving his sister alone if his father agreed with Kenji, who was he to disagree? His father was in a surprisingly agreeable mood and he wouldn’t risk worsening it.

So Madara quietly agreed and followed after Tajima, but he did take one last look at his little sister before sliding the door shut.

0O0

The woman jerked awake.

Shooting up, the first thing she noticed was the flowers all around her. She sat within them, their sweet scents calming her racing heart. Wherever she turned, beautiful daisies and sunflowers and countless more grew endlessly. The sky above was clear, not a cloud in sight, and as she slowly lifted herself from the ground, her eyes roamed the open field until they stopped, locating what she unconsciously must have been searching for.

A tiny girl amongst the flowers, very far away.

With nowhere to go, the young woman began her journey towards the child. Her hands grazed the top of the flowers as she walked past them, her eyes taking in the beauty of it all. She found herself coming to a halt at one point, touching the tall sunflowers that reached high above her head, listening to the buzz of bees as they flew past her.

She had only known the frightening dark void for so long. To see all this…life around her, it was a startling contrast to her old existence. Wherever she had been had obviously changed her, stealing a piece of her soul and replacing it with a shadow that permanently lingered within her.

Such simplicities were enough to evoke such strong emotions in her…was it really a surprise that she wanted to cry at the warmth surrounding her, at the blooming flowers and clear skies all around her? These were simple things she knew she must have taken for granted when she was last alive, so unaware of the cruelties of death. It made her want to live – to steal, to do anything that would prolong her stay here in the world of the living. She knew somehow that immortality was impossible, a part of her reacting horribly to the thought of living forever, but the fear of returning to that cold that somehow still burned hotter than the sun left her with this irrational desire anyway. Her fear of that hell clouded any rational judgment.

To know that someday she would have to return to that accursed place, to that horrifying existence awaiting everyone, was a curse she was forced to be burdened with. There would be no escape, eventually being dragged back to death.

But with every step closer to the young child, the more her thoughts became coherent, no longer crazed with panic. They soon came to a stop when she reached the little girl, who was sitting on the ground with her back facing her, humming an unfamiliar song.

The woman recognized immediately who sat before her, all the air leaving her chest.

This must have been the little Izumi, whose body she was currently possessing. The young girl sat before her, oblivious to the events that led her here; instead, she was innocently watching a bumblebee fly around her, harmless in its search for pollen. The woman, on the other hand, stood silently, watching the girl whose life she was taking.

Guilt settled quickly in her chest.

What felt like forever but was only a matter of seconds, the young Uchiha finally turned around. Despite the woman’s sudden appearance, there was no fear in Izumi’s eyes. What shined in its place was a warmth that she didn’t deserve, an instant trust that was downright wrong.

“Hi!” Izumi beamed, looking up at her. The rich brown eyes that she looked at the young woman with shined bright with childish innocence – an innocence that stemmed from the lack of awareness of the terrible sin the woman had committed to be where she stood at that moment. With this realization, a crack formed in her heart. “I’m Izumi! I’ve never seen you before.”

“I…” She felt the tears building in her eyes, the words stuck in her throat. A silent sob escaped her mouth, resulting in a frown from the Uchiha.

“Are you okay, Miss? I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

At these words, the woman viciously shook her head, forcing a smile. “No no, you didn’t upset me,” she horribly lied.

This innocent child who had so much life in her, and she took it? Because she was selfish – desperate – in her search for a life to possess?

She couldn’t justify this. She could never justify this.

She didn’t realize at the time that to rejoin humanity, she’d have to essentially kill someone – because that was what this was, wasn’t it? If the victim had been an adult, perhaps she would not feel the overwhelming guilt she did now, but to know that she had stolen the life of a child?

“Okay then.” With no warning whatsoever, Izumi grabbed her hand and led her to a different flower a few feet away. “I wanna show you something!” Feeling choked up, the young adult had to remind herself to breathe, to accompany herself along to the childish whims of the girl. “Look!”

Her eyes followed the finger that pointed to the flower before her. Crawling on the strangely colored petal was a ladybug, bringing another wave of guilt that threatened to drown her in her sorrows.

“A ladybug?”

“Yeah!” Izumi practically trembled with excitement beside her. “Aren’t they cute? Only Katsumi ever thinks they’re cute,” she mumbled. The woman heard a hint of sadness in her quiet voice, prompting her to kneel and try to match the girl’s height.

“What–” she hesitated, the large unblinking eyes creating a deeper fracture in her soul, “–what do you remember?”

“Me? Hmm…” Izumi placed a finger against her pursed mouth, eyes looking towards the sky above them in thought. “I was playing with Izuna and then I fell and then I was here. It’s okay, though – I like it here with all these pretty flowers. I can even stay here forever!”

Could she, though? How long until Izumi recognized the fact that she was trapped, with no escape back to the life she once knew? She would die here, alone, with no one to hold her – to comfort her. But...the woman was so selfish; she didn’t want to die again, not when she had gotten a taste of being alive once more – she just couldn’t.

She placed a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, her mouth opening to say something, when another crack in the sky stopped her. The young girl saw nor heard anything, her mind occupied with the same ladybug that now crawled on her hand. The young woman had heard the thundering that had echoed all around her, a tremble running through her entire body. A second later, another crack, another thundering. In the distance, she could see a strange darkness creeping along the horizon, rushing toward them with speed and rumbling dark clouds. She didn’t have to guess what it was, her heart falling as she came to the realization.

Death was coming and with it, she knew that she could never let Izumi die here, not alone. Despite her intense desire of wanting to live, the fleeting memories of who she was before and the woman she could have been prevented her from taking a step toward the path of a murderer. She would never forgive herself, never be able to live a full life, knowing that another had to die for her to be where she stood.

Biting her bottom lip as she thought of what to say, Izumi smiled at the bug on her hand.

“Izumi, can you look at me?” The young girl complied, her eyes meeting with her own. “I want–”

There was no going back, she thought. She wouldn’t be able to take back the words.

“Yeah?”

The woman took a deep breath. “I want you to wake up.”

With these words, the world around them suddenly burned bright, inciting a surprised cry from them both. It lasted merely a second but the decision she had made transformed the world around them. The tumbling black clouds were no more, replaced with fluffy white clouds while the sky above healed. Where there were once only flowers now also stood a large forest in the distance, trees tall and proud. In the middle of the field was a clearing where a small, quaint cottage stood, a gentle wind carrying the aroma of the wildlife.

It was beautiful.

It was hers.

For the first time since her return, she felt the weight of her history disappear. She laughed, she cried. The various emotions scared the little Uchiha, the change from the world around her and in the woman clearly terrifying the young girl. Recognizing that her hysteria would be no good for their situation, the woman forced down the several manic laughs that threatened to burst from her lungs and placed a gentle hand against Izumi’s cheek.

“Live, Izumi. You were never meant to meet me, to be here, trapped in your own mind.” The words meant nothing to the child, who looked at her with wide, confused eyes. “You don’t understand now but perhaps one day you will.”

Standing up, her knees popping from kneeling, the young woman held out her hand to Izumi. Unlike earlier, there was a slight hesitation from the child, but as she began leading them towards the cottage, the flowers bloomed around them. She swore she could hear childish laughter from the plants all around them. There were other voices and ghosts of people here as well, of an older woman who bore a striking resemblance to Izumi, of laughter and tears, and of the boys she saw earlier.

Were these daisies symbols of this child’s memories? Were they hers? Perhaps they were both.

And perhaps even more.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going home.” At the steps, she sat down and faced Izumi, who remained standing on the grass. “You, on the other hand, will open your eyes to your room.”

“My room?”

With a gentleness that she knew she didn’t possess before, she nodded. There was no forced smile anymore and in the distance, the horizon began to fade away. There was no fear this time because the woman knew everything would be fine.

Everything would be okay.

“I’ll be watching over you, okay? You won’t remember me, our meetings, or your little ladybug friend who tagged along for the ride,” she informed, gently picking the bug off of Izumi’s shoulder. “But one day when you’re ready for the truth, I’ll be here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, Izumi, I know.” The light was almost overbearing but it bothered the little girl none, and with that, the woman knew her time with Izumi was coming to an end. At least, for now. “Never stop smiling, okay?”

“What do you mean?” With a confused frown, Izumi stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t understand! You’re making no sense!” she shouted, stomping her feet. “Who even are you?”

At the childish outburst, the woman found herself laughing as she turned her eyes to the sky. Tears streamed down her face as she felt her body give away, her surroundings melting into one, but with a peaceful calm, she smiled widely before closing her eyes.

“Goodbye, Izumi.”

When Izumi awoke, hours later with a blinding headache, her eyes blinking at the familiar beige ceiling above her, all she remembered was playing with her brothers. The strange woman would not appear in the young child’s mind for many years to come, her memory of their interaction taken by the woman herself. She remained hidden in her small world in Izumi’s mind, viewing memories of the past, present, and future.

Yes, her selfishness stubbornly clung to life, living on in spirit within the young child.

It was enough to simply be.

Chapter Text

Part I

A year passed by without any incident for the Head Family, the children enjoying their lives to the fullest extent. Yet, war was waging outside the Clan walls, and the family would soon come head to head with the tragedies it'd claim.

“Madara!”

A sigh, then, “...Yes, Izumi?”

“Can I join?”

“We’ve gone over–”

“Of course not!” The siblings all flinched, their attention turning to their instructor. Uchiha Genzo, the youngest of the Uchiha Elders but still old enough for the children to secretly call him Old Man, glowered at the young girl. “You must maintain your studies as a reminder to the future women of the clan. Becoming a shinobi is not a job meant for little girls.”

“But…” Izumi bit her bottom lip, looking at all of her brothers. “Why not? Izuna’s training to become one and we’re the same.”

With a sound of annoyance, he turned to Madara. “Once again, you must explain to Izumi as to why she’s unable to train with you all. The Council has already spoken about this to your father so I don’t understand why she still comes with you during your designated training hours.”

“I…” Madara frowned. “Okay. You all, continue the katas with Genzo-san.” With a gentle hand on her shoulder, he led his youngest sister aside from the brothers. “Hey–”

“It’s not fair!” The young girl exclaimed the moment they were out of earshot, eyes wide with anger. “Just because I’m a girl means I can’t train with you guys?”

“Izumi–”

“Izuna’s training and we do everything together!”

“Izumi,” he said firmly, interrupting her. At his tone, she closed her mouth, her lips thinning with displeasure. “I know you want to but you just can’t, okay? Besides, it’s really boring just doing stretches,” he tried persuading. He walked over to the bag she had placed in the corner of the dojo earlier and handed it to her. “You have things to do from Harumi-san, you should be focusing on that instead. It’s as Genzo-sama said, you’re just not allowed. Besides, I thought you liked her? You don’t want to disappoint her when you haven’t done your work, right?”

“I do! I…I do like her, but what we’re doing right now is boring,” she complained at the top of her lungs. “All she’s making me do is sew or practice my handwriting!”

The ten-year-old internally sighed, feeling a headache forming at his sister’s outburst. He knew that in mere seconds, her brown eyes would fill with tears if she didn’t get what she wanted, and judging by the glares that Genzo-sama was sending them, the older man’s patience was running thin.

“How about I talk to Father about this again, okay? Maybe this time he’ll let you do some things with us–”

“No!” Izumi stomped her feet, her hands balling into fists. “I want to do it–”

“That is enough.” Genzo’s patience broke through his control as he stormed towards them. Forcing Madara back, he roughly grabbed Izumi’s face, glaring at the young girl and when she fearfully tried pulling away, he held on with even more unnecessary strength. After a moment – accompanied by a slight whine of pain – he finally let her go to grab her arm instead. The older boy wanted to protest against the rough handling of his younger sister but knew his place; for now, he was to obey the Elders, even if that meant standing to the side while his siblings were disciplined. They were to be respected, which explained why Izumi’s outburst was beginning to become a problem. It was inappropriate for a child of the clan head to act the way she was. As much as it pained Madara, he knew that she needed to understand this now rather than later.

“This is unbecoming of the daughter of the Uchiha, do you hear me, you insolent child?” Genzo dragged the younger girl towards the door, sliding it open with one hand. “From now on, you are not to intrude on your brothers as they train to protect this clan and all it stands for – they have their jobs and you have yours!” Throwing her out, Izumi landed uncomfortably on the tatami floor and quickly scrambled to her feet, eyes wide. “Stop disturbing us!”

Then with a slam, the door slid shut, leaving her alone in the hall. Somehow during this ordeal, she held onto her bag and her grip on it only tightened as her bottom lip quivered in her attempt to stop herself from crying; she had been instructed countless times that crying would do her no good because, after all, it was inappropriate because of who she was.

Well…she failed to prevent some tears from escaping, but her sobs stayed at bay.

With a tentative step, she raised her arm to knock on the door again, but her eyes went straight to the red circle on her arm from the tight, painful grip that the Elder had on her mere seconds ago. She may have been six but she knew when she wasn’t wanted in a room.

So with a sniffle, Izumi quietly turned and walked away, the bag now dragging on the ground behind her.

Minutes later, she found herself in front of Harumi-san’s room and when she knocked, she politely bowed as the door slid open. She could only see the woman's socks but Izumi didn’t have it in her to turn back up. All the emotions she had been keeping at bay from her trek from the other side of her home were released in a rush as the tears she had so desperately tried to stop began pouring, her shoulders shaking.

“Izumi-sama?”

Gulping, the little girl slowly turned up, her lips quivering. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. What was she even apologizing for? At the pitiful sight, Harumi immediately kneeled down, placing both hands against the sides of Izumi’s face. The tears continued falling, cheeks red and splotchy from her crying, as the mere warmth of human contact caused ugly sobs to come tumbling out of her mouth like a baby.

Knowing that someone was bound to come into the hall to hear the commotion, the young woman gently led her into her room before sliding the door closed, where she didn’t hesitate to envelope Izumi into a hug, repeating over and over again, it’s okay. It would take her a few minutes of crying before it died down to a sniffle, finally allowing Harumi to pull away without too much worry. She continued kneeling before the little girl, allowing her to be at the same height as she gently placed a hand against Izumi’s cheek with motherly affection as she wiped the tears with her handkerchief.

This action alone would get her fired if anyone saw, Harumi knew. She was hired as a governess to teach the girl all she would need to know until Izumi was married off, where Harumi would then search for another ward to teach. Unfortunately, those in higher positions saw Izumi not as the child she was but as a pawn in the political game of go that all clans played. Rinse and repeat, the way of life, and Harumi was simply an investment in Izumi’s future, towards building and strengthening relations with allies. She wasn’t hired to be this girl’s mother.

Yet, when she first began her job with the household a year ago, there was a loneliness to the then five-year-old who looked at her with such sadness. It broke her heart because it was a look that shouldn’t have been on a child. But Harumi couldn’t have blamed her – Izumi was isolated from her peers due to her social status and had no friends outside of her siblings, and with the lack of a maternal figure in her life, Harumi found herself risking her position as Izumi’s governess nearly daily to try and help the girl out.

“Tell me what happened,” Harumi gently ordered.

Izumi nodded before recounting her incident with Genzo, slowly and fearfully. At the end of it, Harumi needed to remind herself to hold back her rage; her anger was hidden behind a mask but beneath it, she was burning with hatred. A tense silence fell over the two and after she stood up from kneeling by the door, Izumi followed to their usual seats in the back – with her sitting seiza at her desk, legs folded beneath her, and Izumi sitting identically to her at her own table.

“Is that why you apologized?” she asked once they both settled, now rummaging through a drawer.

“...Yes,” Izumi mumbled, once again refusing to look at her. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just want to be with my brothers.”

This was a sentiment that she quite frequently said during their sessions together. The young woman leaned back, face softening at how dejected Izumi looked. After a slight pause, she finally pulled out the jar she had been looking for – the colorful konpeito. She rattled the clear glass full of tiny balls of candy, noting how Izumi lit up at the sight of the confectionery.

After pouring out a few pieces onto a tiny plate, she fondly watched Izumi indulging in the candy, grateful that some sugar was what the little girl needed to cheer up after a disastrous morning. She allowed Izumi to settle in with some time passing, tense emotions having calmed down. After she ordered lunch from one of the maids, Harumi tried explaining, again, about Izumi’s situation with the Elders and training.

“I know how much you want to be with your brothers, but didn’t your father speak to you about why it isn’t appropriate?”

“Father?” At the mention of Tajima, Izumi slightly perked up. “He was the one who said it’d be okay to watch if I couldn’t join. I just…I thought if I could stay, that meant I could still practice, you know?

Internally, Harumi cursed. Of course, he did – seeing as his late wife had been a kunoichi, she should’ve known better than to hope he would explain why Izumi couldn’t train.

Unfortunately for them all, the Elders of the Uchiha were old men who saw kunochi with a nasty eye, disliking that it went against their personal morals and beliefs. This led to the first attempt at banning the training of female ninjas altogether years ago and while it failed to pass officially, it had certainly succeeded in shifting the tone of the subject throughout the clan. Many women in the midst of their training had quit from societal pressures and it upset Harumi to this day to say she had crumbled, following en-mass by leaving behind her training.

Exceptions to the unofficial ban were made, of course. If a sharingan was activated, even the Elders, despite their age and bigotry, recognized that it would be a waste of potential and so, regardless of status, women were to train for the betterment of the clan. But otherwise, excuses were thrown about after the ban's failure by many who were approached by the dojos that specialized in training kunoichis, such as age and marriage, a falling childbirth rate, and raising children. As a result, nearly all closed down and a part of Harumi would always feel guilty for how everything came about.

She fell under none of those excuses and her own reasoning was both from the lack of support from her parents and from the anxiety of having to go through with becoming a soldier, to risk death on a daily basis.

Now, five years later, here she was. At an age where she wasn’t old but at twenty-nine remained unmarried and childless. With her position near the Head Family, she was beginning to feel the Elders’ disapproval of her status.

“Harumi-san?”

Shaking her head, she pulled herself away from those thoughts and turned her attention back to the little girl. “Izumi, I think…” Innocent eyes looked up at her and Harumi, for the life of her, felt terrible for trying to explain all of that to her. So instead, she let out a tired sigh. “I think you need to listen to Genzo-sama. If the Elders say that you can’t train, then you can’t. There’s only so much your father as Clan Head can do against them. Do you remember how we talked about their position just yesterday?”

“But–”

With a firm but gentle tone, Harumi spoke over her. “Recall what I said. Believe me, I know you just want to be with your family, but the Elders don’t see it that way.” There was so much more to it that Izumi would learn later in the future but for now, this answer was the best that she could do. But this issue with the training was starting to become a trend; every other week give or take, Izumi would find some way to divert their sessions towards learning about shinobi training.

Harumi, at the back of her mind, began to think that maybe...just maybe, she could–

At this sudden thought, she forced herself away from it, locking it down and pushing it away. She would not go against the Elders like that for so many reasons. For one, she would be tried and stripped of her job for endangering the clan heiress which was to be avoided at all costs. The consequences of that would be a slap on the wrist at best, banishment at worst.

But–

No, she couldn’t.

Her mind made up, she refocused with the words ready, only to see Izumi bowing her head, her hands clasped in her lap as her shoulders fell. “...Okay,” Izumi whispered a second later, a defeat lacing her voice that Harumi had never heard from the six-year-old in their time together. Whatever she wanted to say disappeared from the tip of her tongue, a lump in her throat replacing it instead. She tried swallowing it down, her mind going in circles from the thoughts that were running rampant in her mind.

Allowing the young girl to know basic skills in evasion would be very beneficial to her at the very least, a voice hissed from those shackles within her mind. And Harumi, for all her intelligence and self-control, could easily admit that the girl’s lack of training was a legitimate concern. She had even brought it up before – as the only daughter of the Clan Head, Izumi would be an easy target from enemy clans even more so than her brothers due to the outlier she was with a lack of fighting skills. Yet, the Elders – and of course, Genzo-sama being one of the most vocal – vehemently responded with threats of being fired and such and so the conversation quickly ended there.

And without permission, she risked so much to even think about training her, but–

“I’ll train you.”

The moment those three words left Harumi’s mouth, a silence fell across the room. Izumi’s head shot up, her eyes widening and brows raised, as she looked taken aback by the sudden statement.

“...What?” Even Harumi was shocked at the words that escaped her.

“I’ll...I’ll train you,” she said more strongly. Straightening her back, she allowed herself to take a deep breath despite the weight of this decision now quickly settling over her shoulders. “I trained for a few years to be a kunoichi before becoming a governess. I can’t promise anything other than basic evasion skills and defense–”

“Really?” A hesitant nod. “Oh, thank you!” Izumi jumped across the table and shot forward, slamming herself into the woman, her arms tightening around her neck. “Thank you so much!”

With a quiet chuckle, Harumi allowed herself to return the hug, her heart warm from the affection but heavy for the change forbidden training was going to bring – and from the paranoia already beginning to settle its chains around her.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Pulling away, she placed both hands on the girl’s shoulder and held on tightly. “Not even Izuna. Absolutely no one can know, do you understand?” Immediately, she saw the conflict in Izumi’s eyes. “If you tell anyone, I’ll lose my position here and...and I won’t be able to see you again, ever. So you have to promise me this or I won’t train you. These are my terms.” It hurt her to even say those words but they rang true.

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Although Izumi was fidgeting under the pressure, she nodded her head, more determined than ever. “I promise.”

“Good. We’ll start soon then.”

Months passed from this day. Children grew, battles fought, birthdays celebrated.

A typical day for Izumi saw her wake up, eat breakfast, and play with her siblings until they all went their separate ways. Madara was away, gone on a diplomatic mission with their father, Katsumi continued his studies under the Uchiha’s head medic-nin, and Arata and Izuna were with Genzo for their schooling, leaving Izumi with Harumi.

The two did simple stretches that were approved by the Council before starting their daily sessions together that were not out of place if anyone were to see them. They then proceeded to go throughout the afternoon with nothing out of place: embroidery in the morning, a break for lunch, then more intensive studies until the day broke and it was time for her to return back to the main compound in her home.

It was only when the day turned to night that the real excitement began.

Quietly, Izumi snuck out of her room to where the dojo stood and slid it open, Harumi already preparing for their training together. As Harumi watched her go through simple stretches to warm up the body, she would place a small genjutsu in the hall that if someone were to trip, it would warn her, all the while muffling whatever sounds they made in the dojo to help conceal their presence. It was by no means a foolproof plan as anyone could break the genjutsu due to the obvious nature of the Uchiha, but it allowed them to be more prepared in the case that someone did come by. Once everything was set, they would then begin.

They always started with conditioning, such as the typical pushups and planks, running around the dojo to warm the body up, before starting on the katas and simple sparring. In the beginning, it had been hard for them both – Izumi was a beginner, so she needed to learn how to move and contort her body in ways she did not know, and Harumi needed to retrain her body, to move old muscles into positions that hadn’t been worked on in years since she quit her training. It started off quite rough, but after months of laughs, tears, and smiles, they now had a rhythm between them that had not been there before.

For now, it was flexibility and training on how to break a fall properly, and then Harumi would call it a night.

This was a standard day for the Uchiha heiress, until one day, it wasn’t.

Chapter Text

“Katsumi!” Arata, Izuna, and Izumi ran up to Katsumi, who was meditating in the small field behind their home as the cool October air helped him with his daily meditations.

The eleven-year-old opened one eye but remained seated, a smile betraying his amusement. “…Yes?”

The twins stood behind Arata, the ten-year-old giggling before the trio screamed out, “Happy birthday!”

There was genuine joy blooming within the child’s chest. He was sad that Madara was not around at the moment, away with Father like always in their fight against the Senju, but he was still happy to know that the siblings left behind remembered today.

“Thank you,” he said, opening his arms for a hug; instead, he was greeted with a tackle to the ground by his brothers and sister. Katsumi could only laugh, though, as he tried to the best of his ability to wrap them all in an embrace, because they all deserved it and because he loved them wholeheartedly.

“So what’s the plan?” Izuna asked moments later, laying on top of Katsumi’s chest in the middle, with Izumi and Arata each at his sides. “What do you want to do today?”

The older boy was taken aback by the question, because, well, no one had ever really asked him what he wanted. He was used to being ordered around by everyone, which he was okay with, so to be asked such a basic question was a welcomed surprise. “I...I guess, be with you guys,” he responded after a few seconds. They were seldom together nowadays, with him reaching the age where he was sent to battlefields with Kenji as a war medic-in-training. “What else is there to do? ”

At this, Arata sat up on his elbows before saying, “I heard that the new bakery that Sakurai-san opened with his wife was really good. They even have cake! We can get some to celebrate with you!” Then, wiggling his brows, he pulled out from his pocket a coin. “I even got 500 ryo from father before he left.”

“...You stole it, didn’t you?”

“Whatever helps you sleep better at night,” he responded, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Typically, Katsumi would have scolded his brother for this, but he was suddenly interrupted by a, “Then we have to go there!” by Izuna, and a similar shout by his sister.

There was a scramble to stand and while he tried to maintain order, he was failing. “Alright, alright, we can go!” He let himself be dragged away from the house towards the center of the main compound, where most of the clan mingled about during the day amongst the several stores and food stands. As they rushed by their fellow clansmen, there were echoes of happy birthday and be careful, and chuckles from the older members at his current predicament of being pulled in all directions by his siblings, which further warmed his heart.

Katsumi was loved by many, despite his gentle nature being frowned upon in their war-torn climate. It was well known by all that he disliked violence of any kind, which was why, to no surprise, that his love of medical ninjutsu and healing was what suited him best. His stubbornness, which was found in all of the siblings and the clan head himself, helped him overcome the typically stigmatized branch of ninjutsu that his clan was not known for; saving lives made him extremely happy and made him feel useful in the already depressing era of life, with battles and death at every corner. And after his mother’s death, he vowed to help people instead of harming them.

“We’re here and oh my god – I'm so excited!” Izumi practically vibrated with excitement alongside Izuna.

Pointing to the entrance, Arata announced, “Let us commence towards the dessert!”

“That’s not how you use the word, dummy.”

“Oh well,” he said with a shrug.

Katsumi pushed them all into the store, his stomach rumbling at the thought of sweets. They walked into the store with no worker in sight but throughout the room, traditional desserts in boxes and glass jars lined the tables and open shelves.

“I’ll be with you in a second!”

Before the twins could wreak havoc in the store, Katsumi grabbed them and firmly said, “Don’t touch anything, okay? You two seem to have a knack for knocking over and breaking things and there’s a lot of glass in here.”

The duo looked at each other before turning to him, nodding their heads as seriously as six-year-olds could. “Don’t worry, we promise.” After a moment, he let them go to begin exploring the store on his own when he turned and saw Arata practically drooling a puddle onto the floor at all the sweets he wanted.

With a sigh, he reached for his brother. “Close your mouth, Arata.”

“No.” Arata avoided his hand by leaning back and sticking his tongue out.

Katsumi couldn’t help but snicker at the face his younger brother was making and continued on his way towards the large bakery display case by the entrance when the back door swung open.

“Welcome, how can– I, oh my god, I-I mean, uh, good afternoon!” The owner stumbled over his words, clearly flustered at the four in the store. “H-How can I help you, young sirs?”

Katsumi opened his mouth when Izuna interrupted them, holding up the coin he had somehow stolen from Arata. There was a sound of shock and anger from the said boy as Izuna said, “We’re here for Katsumi’s birthday. We’re getting him sweets.”

“Oh?” Sakurai, the owner, seemed to regain his composure and smiled. “My best wishes to you on your birthday, Katsumi-sama.” A nod of his head acknowledged the greeting before the man continued. “Well, I have a few freshly baked ones here, would you all like to look, perhaps even help your brother decide?”

“Yes!”

There was a scramble to the display Sakurai pointed to and he had to hold back a laugh at the exasperated eye-roll from Katsumi at his siblings’ actions. There was no hiding the fondness the older boy held for them, though, his face softening as he watched them.

“Katsumi!”

“Come here, hurry!”

“They do have cake!”

Katsumi quickly walked over and even his eyes widened at the different types of foreign sweets he saw; cookies, cupcakes, and even brownies. Chocolate was such a rarity for the clan that he could only count on one hand the number of times he had been able to indulge in the sugary candy. Just how did Sakurai manage to get enough to even make chocolate sweets?

“I would pick the brownies, young sirs, because I don’t know when the next time I’ll get my hands on the ingredient,” Sakurai said, answering his unspoken question. “We all know the true extent of chocolate’s rarity, being found along the borders of the Land of Water.”

“Chocolate? Chocolate!” Izumi clapped her hands together and turned to her older brother, eyes wide and pleading. “We have to get them!”

“I don’t know, we’d be buying all he has–”

“Nonsense, Katsumi-sama.” The baker ignored his protest and quickly picked up the baked goods that contained it, even adding a small cake to the bag. “It’s your birthday and you deserve to celebrate it as such.” Eyes wide, the child could only watch in silence as the man wrapped up the goods with a smile. Why was everyone treating him so well, even if it was his birthday? “Here, Arata-sama, I entrust to you the desserts. Do be careful with them, ne?” Okay?

“Yes, sir!”

“I…” Katsumi hid his emotions well but he could do nothing to hide the burst of childish happiness he tended to keep hidden from all. “Thank you so much, Sakurai-san!” he bowed deeply, eyes sparkling as quickly looked back up with a toothy grin.

“It’s nothing. Now, go enjoy the day; you’re only eleven once. And don’t worry about the payment, okay? It’s my gift to you.”

The children were all so excited about the idea of eating sweets that they sprinted out of the store. In a matter of minutes, they scrambled back home as Arata took his role as the caregiver for the desserts quite seriously, refusing to let anyone touch the bag until they were all situated at the large dining table they ate at.

“Because it’s Katsumi’s birthday, he’s gonna choose what he wants first, alright?” he declared in a rare moment of maturity. The twins’ mouths opened to protest but Arata quickly pointed at them, “That’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“A-Arata, it’s fine, you can let them–”

“No!” Holding the bag to his chest, he narrowed his eyes. “Your birthday means your choice.”

“But–”

“Hai,” Izumi suddenly said, silencing them all. Of course, brother. “He’s right, we shouldn’t be selfish! It is Katsumi’s birthday!”

“I– you’re right and he’s right!” With a firm nod, Izuna turned serious and turned to Katsumi. “We’re sorry.”

“No–”

“Shut up, this is a battle you aren’t going to win.”

Once the small argument was resolved, Katsumi was forced to choose a baked good he wanted the most and he did exactly so; for once in his life, he decided that he wanted to be selfish and figured that his birthday was the best day to do so. He chose the largest brownie and the small cake that was clearly for him, as it had written atop it a birthday message.

He nearly cried when his siblings sang happy birthday to him, and once everyone had a dessert in front of them the children did not hold back. They sprang into the sweets like a pack of starving wild animals. It was a matter of worry that their caretaker would come to find them eating sugar before dinner and without permission, because, well, they were children. But no matter where in the world, children would be children, their sweet tooths nearly insatiable. All evidence of the desserts was hidden and destroyed once they finished, and the day would end as the best day of Katsumi’s life.

0O0

The forest was a place of interest, particularly for the children of the clan. There were cautionary tales spoken at bedsides as a warning not to cross past the unspoken line, owing to the ongoing war outside the gates. But, despite all the warnings told by parents and elders, children would be children – superstitious stories could only do so much before some found themselves venturing into the forest.

“Like this?”

Harumi frowned, shaking her head, quickly returning to the lesson she was teaching. “No, how many times must I remind you to keep your thumb out?” She pulled Izumi’s thumb out of her faulty punch, rearranging her fingers into a proper fist. “If you hold your thumb, the only thing you’ll accomplish will be a broken finger.”

“Sorry.”

“Again.”

For the next few days, Izumi threw punches, learned how to break a fall without breaking her neck, and by the end of the next week, a small smile on Harumi’s face confirmed that she now knew what would be the first of many in her dabbling of martial arts. Months of simple stretching, of only conditioning, were in the past. The night marked a shift for Izumi, as she was now going to learn how to actually fight.

Of course, it was just a punch. But small steps mattered.

Due to the nature of their arrangement, the two were forced to keep this milestone to themselves, but the following morning, Izumi was rewarded with a small bag of homemade traditional sweets on her desk.

A week passed and before they knew it, November had come around without incident when amid their morning session of embroidery, a subject which Izumi failed horribly at, a knock interrupted the duo. Sliding open the door revealed a shinobi with a hand on Izuna’s shoulder. The young boy sported a black eye, several scratches on his arm, and it took everything within Izumi to refrain from rushing to her brother’s side.

“Tatsuya-san, what a surprise. How may I help you?” Harumi asked, quizzically looking at the two as she led them into the one-person classroom. Tatsuya was a friend of hers and to see him with Izuna was somewhat of a surprise, as his position in clan enforcement wouldn’t have him doing a simple job like escorting someone, even if it was a member of the head family.

“There was...an incident between Arata-sama and Izuna-sama. It was decided that the brothers were to be separated for the day. He asked to be with his sister.”

After a few requests to the servants were made, a spare desk was brought into the room. When everything was settled, he began to leave when he pulled Harumi aside.

“What? I’m working right now, I can’t–”

“Harumi…” Her words got caught in her throat, though, at the way he called her name. He was avoiding her eyes, his voice quiet with something she couldn’t quite understand. “I’m...I’m sorry,” he quietly mumbled, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“For what?” Although worried, she tried to get him to look at her when he stopped her with a hand against her own.

“That little girl you were tutoring, we found her mother’s body in the forest today.” Harumi froze, eyes wide and mouth falling slightly open. She stayed silent, though, only grabbing his hand to hold onto something, anything. “We’re still searching for the young girl, for Kazuyo, but we’re not...it’s not looking good.”

“Is this...is this connected to the other missing children? The ones you thought were running away?” she couldn’t help asking, recalling the stories she had been hearing as of late.

With a sigh, Tatsuya’s head fell forward, pausing for a moment before nodding his head. “We have new information that would say yes; we’re not so sure that they’re runaways anymore.”

In response to this, she clenched her jaw, trying hard to contain the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Kazuyo was an...exuberant child, to say the least, and did lean on the wilder side, but her mother had insisted on her education after witnessing teachers left and right giving up on her young girl; she had simply wanted nothing but the best for her daughter.

“You didn’t hear this from me but just, stay away from the forests for now, okay? You should be okay if you’re with any of the members of the head family…”

After a few more tense comments between the two of them, they said their goodbyes, and Harumi returned to the room, taking only a brief second to pull herself together for the sake of the two children who were now under her care for the day. The news would have to be pushed to the back of her mind for now.

Izuna stayed silent as Harumi allowed him to do whatever he wanted, although Izumi was required to fumble with clumsy hands at what her instructor was attempting to teach her. One would think that a simple daisy would be an easy thing to embroider, but Izumi, for the life of her, could not grasp the concept whatsoever. On a good day, perhaps, but today was not one of those days. Her brother was a distraction, which Harumi could easily see, and paired with the heartbreaking news from earlier, the woman just wasn’t in the mood as well. With a weary sigh, Harumi stood up. “ I think...we’ll just call it a day. The rest of the afternoon is yours to see fit.” It was also obvious, even to the children, that she was not in the proper headspace to continue teaching.

“...Really?” Izumi quickly asked, shooting up from her seat and dropping the needles and cloth onto the table.

“Yes.” Before she could grab her brother and run, though, Harumi held up a hand and narrowed her eyes. “But I’ll still follow along whatever you do so the Elders won’t think you’re slacking in your studies,” she said, her voice leaving no room for any further argument. “You still need a chaperone.”

“Okay.” Quickly cleaning her supplies up, Izumi pulled her still-silent twin up, dragging him through the building toward their backyard. Despite the cries of her teacher to wait, she ignored it and continued running. “Izuna, cheer up! We have a whole day together!” she declared once they reached the outskirts of their house boundaries, the large forest and trees giving them shade from the hot sun.

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.” Pinching his arm, she demanded, “What happened between you and Arata?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re mad and he’s definitely mad too. Why?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Gosh, you’re so moody!” Izumi sneered at him, arms crossing over her chest. “Just tell me!”

“Yeah, well, you’re annoying!” Pushing her away, he ran into the woods behind the house, screaming, “Leave me alone!”

Izumi fumed as she watched her brother’s back grow smaller and smaller until the thickness of the forest hid him from her eyes.

“Izumi, what happened to your brother?” Whirling around, she watched Harumi run up to them, eyes wide and frantic with worry. “Where is he?”

Scoffing, she leaned on a tree with a heavy thud, arms still crossed. “The idiot ran into the woods alone.”

“Shit.” Harumi’s nose flared as she closed her eyes, taking a moment to herself, before pushing Izumi towards the house. “Okay. Okay. That’s– That’s okay. I need you to go back to the house. This is not a request.”

Within a few seconds, the young girl was left alone with a feeling akin to whiplash, at both the curse that left her teacher’s mouth and the intensity with which she had pushed her, but that did nothing to deter her decision from running after them. Not for one second did Izumi consider listening to Harumi and instead, the six-year-old waited a few more moments before going after them.

The deeper she went into the woods, the darker it got until Izumi was walking through an area that she could not recognize whatsoever. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she could hear a commotion a little further ahead of her – and so, mustering up all the courage she had, she continued forward.

“Izuna?” she called out, wrapping her arms around herself. “Harumi-san?” There were sounds of...fighting, which made no sense to Izumi because they were nowhere near the typical training grounds her clansmen typically occupied. She quickened her steps, only to freeze behind a tree at what she suddenly saw ahead; Harumi had a kunai in one hand, standing over her brother who lay unmoving, with her other hand sticking out. A strange man stood menacingly before her, a small sword pointed at her.

“Leave us and I won’t mention the trespassing into Uchiha territory,” Harumi said, her voice steady despite the situation.

“I’m no idiot, I know the moment you get back to your clan,” he spat, motioning behind her, “I’ll have your men chasing after me.”

Harumi kept her hand out, angling her body so that the man would keep his eyes trained on her instead of Izuna. “Look, perhaps this was all a misunderstanding, right? You didn’t know that the clan territory extended this far, right? And the boy just scared you because you didn’t know where you were.”

With a scoff, he stood a little straighter, a sneer on his face. “Sure, and I’m also five, right?” He waved his sword around for a few moments before pointing it at the unconscious boy. “No. I want what I came here for. Hand him over to me and I’ll make sure your death’s painless.”

Izumi was a shinobi child through and through, and even at her young age, she recognized when she needed to remain quiet and hide, or maybe even get help. But as she took a step back, she failed to see the twig behind her and stepped on it; the sound it made echoed throughout the silent forest, startling both Harumi and the enemy soldier.

“Who the hell–” But Izumi took another step back in fear this time, into their eyesight, and the stranger’s eyes widened for a second before the grin on his face turned menacing. “Oh, I see,” he whispered, the whites of his eyes highlighting the crazed look on his face.

Without warning, he shot to the right in an attempt to avoid Harumi in front of him, fully expecting the woman to be too distracted by both children to do anything, but she was nothing if not resourceful; she spat in his face before grappling with him whilst screaming, “Run!”

“You bitch!” he yelled in disgust.

Now he was the one who was distracted – Harumi was able to luckily knock the man back into the tree, disorientating him enough for her to grab Izuna from the ground and run. Izumi was only a few steps ahead due to her short legs, but she was fast enough to keep up with the pace the younger woman had set.

“Izumi”—They were still running, Harumi’s words cutting off with each step—“I need you to run ahead, try to get–get someone.” Anyone.

“Alright!” They were starting to get into an area she recognized, and so powering through the burning in her legs, Izumi ran for a few more minutes, soon leaving her teacher behind. As she ran out of the forest, the relief she felt was short-lived as she heard a cry from behind that sounded eerily like Harumi.

“Someone, help!” Izumi screamed, running towards her house. She continued doing so and luckily, her older brother had heard her cry and slammed the house door open.

“Izumi?”

“Izuna– Harumi-san in forest – s-strange man!” She couldn’t even form a coherent sentence but it was enough for Katsumi to understand. He ran past her towards where she pointed as she allowed herself a few seconds to catch her breath, running back after her brothers.

She ran slower due to how tired she was but it didn’t take her long to find her teacher fighting as Katsumi was hefting her brother onto his back. “Izumi, what the hell are you doing here?” he yelled, grabbing her arm and trying to push her back in the direction she came from. They were closer to home but still too deep in the forest for it to be safe.

“I was w-worried!”

“You idiot! Let’s go!” But Katsumi was still too young to be able to support his sister while also carrying his brother. But luck was on their side, as Harumi was able to finally land a hit on the man, knocking him out. It was only when she confirmed this that she ran up to them, limping and holding her bloody arm, but without complaint and only a grunt, she picked Izumi up. Izumi chose to remain silent when she felt Harumi stumble and nearly drop her, believing that the time and place called for her to not speak.

“He’ll be down for a moment, so go – I’ve got Izumi-sama.”

Katsumi took a second to look at their situation before shaking his head. He maneuvered his brother from his back and into his arms, motioning with his chin to her obvious injuries. “No, you’re injured, Harumi-san. Take Izuna and I’ll take her. We’ll follow quickly behind.” Izumi had never seen her brother command someone before, but there was no denying that he had taken control of their situation. Despite his age, he was a shinobi who had been to the war front – Harumi was not a trained kunoichi, only a teacher.

“No–” Harumi tried to pull her status as an adult but they lived in a shinobi-run society, she knew better than to argue when people like her held no power.

“I’d rather you take Izuna because he’s unconscious and you’re hurt; Izumi and I are okay. We’ll be right behind you.”

There was a moment of hesitation but Harumi finally relented; she ignored the pain in her arm as she quickly placed Izumi back onto the ground, taking Izuna from Katsumi. After a firm nod, she ran to the best of her ability in the direction of what Izumi assumed was where their house was, leaving the siblings behind.

Taking a look back at the unconscious man, she grabbed Katsumi, pulling on his shirt. “We need to follow her.”

Katsumi frowned, his eyes staring into the dark forest before turning back to the stranger. “I can’t sense anyone else but…something about this doesn’t feel right. Don’t leave my side, alright?” he demanded in a tone she only heard when the siblings fought with one another.

“O-Okay.”

She continued to stand near him as he walked to the enemy, pulling out his obi from his hakama to tie him up. It took a few minutes but once he was satisfied that the stranger couldn’t escape, he took a step back with a hand extended to his sister, not bothering to look to see if she was paying attention. She responded quickly by grabbing it as he began leading them toward the direction that Harumi had gone in – but unlike her, he didn’t run.

He couldn’t run.

While Katusmi’s body thrummed with an energy that begged him to do so, especially because he had his sister with him, he could sense another person somewhere around their vicinity – and while they may have cloaked themselves, the lingering chakra was enough for him to know that there wasn’t enough time to make a run for it without exposing themselves to an attack.

Izumi, on the other hand, was oblivious to Katsumi’s internal struggle and felt safer simply by being with him, certain that her older brother would protect them both if they were to be attacked; no one could hurt them, not here – he was strong.

There was a crack from somewhere behind them and without a moment's hesitation, Katsumi hid them in the bushes, a hand on her mouth as he held her. “Don’t say or do anything, okay?” he whispered into her ear. She nodded her head, forcing herself to stay still. Her brother moved his hand away and she silently watched him go through hand seals she couldn’t follow, the unfamiliar feeling of a genjutsu falling around them. She felt an itching from behind her eyes at the sudden cloaking sensation, unaware that her clan’s famed kekkai genkai was reacting to the jutsu he had just cast.

From the small gap in the bushes, they watched another man appear, wearing a garb similar to the earlier enemy-nin; but something in Katsumi warned him that this man was far more deadly. The last nin had been knocked unconscious by Harumi, a civilian with only the fundamentals of shinobi training; this man, on the other hand, had an aura that Katsumi knew indicated that he wouldn't last long in a fight against him. His heart sank as he realized this, anxiety coursing through his veins; his sister was still too young to have been able to do anything other than run, but this new foe was clearly a formally trained shinobi. He’d reach her and most likely incapacitate Katsumi before anything more could happen.

Fortunately, a rustling sound could be heard from afar, originating in a completely different location. Taking one last look at the still unconscious man, the new enemy only sneered before leaving the small clearing. The brother-sister duo remained hidden, with Izumi only moving when her brother dispelled the genjutsu around them to pull her up.

When she faced Katsumi, opened her mouth to say something, he quickly placed a finger against his own lips and shook his head, signaling to her that they weren’t safe, not yet. He grabbed her hand and quietly walked towards the direction of their house, albeit at a slower pace than what Izumi wanted to be going at. He carefully stepped around fallen branches and leaves to avoid any sound from revealing where they were, unsure of where or when another enemy-nin could show up. She stepped only where her brother stepped as well, refusing to be even more of a burden than what she already was, particularly after what she had done earlier with Harumi-san.

A few more tense minutes passed before Katsumi finally released a breath. “I think we’re in the clear,” he whispered, taking one last look at the trees behind them. They had finally reached the outskirts of the forest, the trees around them were not as dense as earlier, and in the distance, he saw the open fields that would eventually lead to their house; strangely, though, he sensed no other shinobi in the area. He knew that Harumi and Izuna should have reached the house by now – where were the guards? Where were his clansmen?

“Katsumi, I don’t–”

A foreign chakra suddenly materialized from behind them, coming towards them at a speed Katsumi barely had time to react to, too close to have been a coincidence. He had been arrogant, certain of his ability to detect the enemy; instead, he had made a mistake and it would cost him too much if he lost. Turning to face his sister, it was at this moment he noticed just how tiny her hand was compared to his as she held onto him for dear life, her eyes shiny with fear as she looked at him.

With no hesitation or warning, he shoved her away from him with all his power – only willing to sacrifice a second to hope she was okay – as he whirled around; the earlier shinobi that Katsumi had spotted in the bushes raced at him with a sword in hand. He barely had enough time to raise a kunai to deflect the swing that would have severed an arm otherwise.

“Go!” He winced at the strength bearing down on him. “You need to get someone here!” He thought of a specific jutsu to employ but his body was sore and he had little to no energy to expend due to his earlier training session, which meant he had no chakra to utilize at the moment.

They had been so close. So close to safety. So close to home.

He just needed to hold out against this man for a few more seconds before reinforcements would arrive, because they had to come, for him and for Izumi –

“–Leave my brother alone!” Izumi suddenly screamed from where he had pushed her– no, she was no longer sprawled out on the ground. Instead, she had…jumped onto the enemy’s back, arms wrapping tightly around the shinobi’s neck as she pulled, screeching into his ear, “Leave us alone!”

The enemy threw his head back in an attempt to thwart whatever plan she had come up with but before his head made contact with hers, she screamed once more before biting his ear. The enemy roared in pain and this momentary distraction was all Katsumi needed to maneuver his way closer, to somehow incapacitate this man so that they could run. There was a cry of pain from his sister but he let it fuel his anger, allowing it to guide his weapon as it swung through the air in an arc motion, reaching its intended target.

There was a sensation of something hot and viscous spilling over his hands, causing his fingers to slip on the handle of his kunai – it was blood it was blood – and a groan of pain before he found himself toppling forward, the shinobi staggering back with Izumi still hanging around his neck. Katsumi foolishly let go of the weapon now lodged in the man’s stomach to reach for her, to somehow save her from bearing the brunt of all their weight as the three tumbled upon one another.

“D-Damn…” the stranger gurgled, blood spilling out his mouth as they all crashed loudly onto the forest floor.

“Hey, are you okay? Are you okay? C’mon–”

“I’m okay!” Her voice was muffled, but Katsumi finally managed to push the man over while completely disregarding the enemy's pain-filled groans, his heart racing only with worry. He quickly hauled her up and dragged her away, hoping she wouldn't see and comprehend the true scale of the bloody mess he had caused. “Are you okay?” she asked him as a smear of blood could be seen on her lips – and the nerve of the girl.

He crushed her to his chest, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he felt the telltale burn of tears behind his eyes. He needed to calm down, to calm his racing heart. “Stupid,” he said instead, ignoring her protests. “What were you thinking? You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“You were struggling and he didn’t even notice me!” She finally managed to pull away from the hug, narrowing her eyes in anger and frustration as tears streamed down her face. “I was scared you were gonna get hurt!”

Katsumi didn’t care about her excuses; he grabbed her shoulders and practically shook her as he said, “Don’t ever do that again, okay?”

Izumi, hearing both the sheer terror mixed with relief in his voice, felt her shoulders drop as she just nodded in response. Katsumi’s head bowed in relief as he pulled his inner sleeve down to wipe away the blood from her mouth. She groaned but relented, allowing him to clean her lips and cheeks.

Once he was satisfied, he finally looked down at himself, choosing to ignore the blood soaking his outermost layers while he assessed the damage done to them both. It was then that he caught Izumi angling her face in an attempt to look behind him at the man who had assaulted them; he stepped in her path, barring her from seeing the body.

“Is…he dead?” she quietly asked instead. The forest was silent, and her question seemed to echo all around them – he heard words he never wanted to hear his six-year-old sister utter ever again.

Katsumi himself wasn’t even sure but he hoped that whatever he had done was enough to either kill the man or give them enough time to escape. “Let’s go – it’s not safe here.”

He led them around the body, careful to keep her face pressed to his side – the blood from earlier only coated one side of his body – as his own eyes lingered on the man he had stabbed. The adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off as he tried to keep himself together, not wanting to fall apart in front of his sister, but a part of him felt relief at the still-moving chest he saw – he hadn’t killed this enemy. As a medic, he was meant to save lives, not take them, and he knew that if Madara or his father had ever heard him utter these words, they would have known what a failure of a shinobi he truly was. He never wanted to fight, to hurt, to kill, and while he would do anything to protect those he loved, a part of him never wanted to throw aside his own morals to do so. The world begged to differ, though, the cruelty of war heavy on his shoulders.

Turning to the opening only a few feet away, he led his sister back home, to safety. “We–”

And then suddenly, time seemed to slow down around them; Katsumi held onto Izumi but his hold on her slipped as he staggered a few steps forward, tripping them both. She was in his grasp one second and the next, he was holding nothing – she was sprawled out on the ground before him as he fell to his knees, pain erupting from his chest as a gasp escaped his mouth.

“You nearly cost me my life,” a voice snarled in his ear. Katsumi blinked slowly as a chilling numbness spread across his brow, through his cheeks and into his mouth; even if he had wanted to, at this moment he wouldn't have been able to respond, his tongue frozen in shock. He forced his head to turn, though, only to be greeted by an insane smile from the enemy-nin he had stabbed mere minutes ago. There was blood on the man’s ear where Izumi had bitten him earlier, with scars scattered across his bare arms and a fairly large mark on his face, blonde hair dripping with blood as they stared at one other, one in fear and the other in delight.

“Katsumi!” Izumi shouted but her voice was so soft, so quiet – all he could really hear was continuous thumping from his chest and the drip drip drip of blood onto the dirt. An intense pressure nearly burst through his chest as he turned down to look at the source of the pain–

It was a sword – there was a sword sticking out of his chest.

Katsumi coughed and blood burst out of his mouth as it sprayed everywhere; onto his sister, onto the ground, onto his own clothes. He saw Izumi's full-body flinch at the droplets that splattered across her face, eyes widening in horror, the crimson contrasting sharply against her pale skin.

He remained rooted in place, too weak to stop the enemy from seizing her by the waist, holding her if she were nothing. Katsumi tried reaching out with his hand and for a moment, their fingers brushed against one another – but the enemy pulled Izumi away, severing their connection and the last of any hope. His hand fell against the ground, muddy with his blood, to support his weight because he nearly collapsed, the agonizing pain coursing through him almost unbearable. His body simply refused to move, his limbs heavy as lead, and the shinobi’s back faced him with his sister reaching for him being held like a sack of rice, flung over his shoulder.

“Katsumi!” Izumi screamed, dark brown – no, oh no, they were red – eyes filled with tears, crying out for him. “N-No!”

In response, Katsumi forced himself to lift his arm back in the air in an attempt to reach her, to save the little girl who followed him around and made him laugh and who he loved so much – to save his younger siblings, he would have gladly sacrificed his life if it meant they would have been safe.

But he failed, hadn’t he?

Instead, he was overcome with despair as Izumi slowly grew smaller and smaller the further the enemy-nin ran, her screams growing fainter until he was left behind in silence, alone and injured with the weight of his failure.

Katsumi desperately tried to follow, he really did – he begged his body to somehow find the energy to move in any way possible, but it failed to respond to his demands, the ringing in his ears only growing louder while his eyesight sharpened. The most he could do was to slowly slump back to sit like earlier, the enemy’s blade still protruding out from his chest as the drip drip drip echoed all around him.

The pain in his chest only grew stronger as he realized that...the tear streaks on Izumi’s face, his blood smeared across her cheeks, the black swirling amidst a sea of red – these were moments that would torment him forever, a painful reminder of his failures.

“I was supposed…to protect you.” Strangled cries left his mouth as tears fell freely from his own crimson eyes, powerful yet useless. “I’m…so sorry.” With another sob, blood gradually began streaming out of his mouth, dripping into the ever-growing puddle of blood on the ground, his chest heaving as breathing became increasingly difficult with every passing second.

Ah – he no longer had the strength to keep his hand up, watching it slowly fall down onto his knees with a clarity he had never seen before – so this is the strength…of our famed dojutsu, Izumi.

The forest was deafeningly quiet, with just a soft breeze rustling the leaves on the trees around him. He averted his gaze for a brief moment to watch a single leaf descending peacefully through the air, his sharingan revealing to him the minute details of the plant he would have never noticed before: it had a thick stem, with small veins sprawled throughout the orange, the discoloration appearing at the base of the leaf, a tad bit more yellow than the rest. It spun and fluttered in response to the gentle caress of the wind, silent in its journey, his dojutsu imprinting this useless moment before death into his memory for the first and last time.

Soon, Katsumi's sharingan gradually faded away and restored his eyes to their original hue, no longer having the energy to maintain the power required – but they remained open, his near-black eyes slowly glazing over as he stared in the direction of a now-empty forest; his thoughts were only of his sister, of how terrified she must be to be alone and trapped in the hands of their enemy with a power she would no way knowing how to control – it was a power that even he did not know how to wield. The sheer terror on her face would forever be etched into his memory due to this accursed sharingan, certain that even in death, that fear would follow him into his afterlife.

“...Katsumi-sama!”

There was a faint voice that called out to him from afar but he found that he couldn’t respond – there was no energy to be found in him to look back or to hope, not anymore. The fight in him had been killed by the defeat in his sister’s eyes when she witnessed his fall, watching as he failed in his one responsibility as her older brother to protect her.

Katsumi slowly blinked as he grew so so tired.

It was then that he felt the barest hint of touch – a featherlight graze upon his cheek – and for a split second, he swore he saw his mother standing before him, dressed exactly the same as the day she had died. His eyes widened slightly for a brief moment as he realized this, and he pushed himself to tilt his head up.

Slight tremors shook his body as she approached him. “Mother...” He couldn’t help but call out to her, his arms aching to reach for her but unable to do so. She knelt in front of him, her kimono remaining spotless in the bloody mud, and as she cradled his face with her gentle hands, he was transported back to his five-year-old self again, full of life and oblivious to the ongoing war around them. A familiar warmth blossomed from his cheeks from where her hands rested – and he wept at this realization, forcing more blood to spill out from his wound and his lips. “I failed you,” he sobbed.

His mother’s face crumbled at his words as she vehemently shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “You didn’t, Katsumi – you did your best.” She attempted to brush away the fresh tears that were spilling on his cheeks. “That’s all I could have ever hoped for.”

His eyelids grew heavy, and as she softly pressed a kiss against his forehead, he closed his eyes for the last time; he could no longer keep them open. His mother had come for him – it was time.

And when Katsumi took his final breath a few seconds later, drowning in a sea of heartbreak, his mother had whispered to him in a broken voice, “…You can rest now, my child.”

Seconds later, a leaf landed softly on his limp palm, staining itself red.

Chapter Text

Izumi stopped screaming for her older brother.

Instead, she stared numbly in the direction of her home, the trees blurring past her as the man who had stabbed her brother hummed to himself. He continued to hold her like she were a bag tossed over his shoulder; every bump and turn strained her already worn and tiny body and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and hide.

She was just so tired.

The memory of today would forever be imprinted in her mind, tinted in a red haze that would never allow her to forget – the way her brother had looked at her, broken and afraid, eyes bright red with anger and horror as blood dribbled down his chin – and she wouldn’t understand, not really, not until she was older when the cause behind her perfect memory would become clear.

By the time the man had stopped running, she had noticed how pale he had become, even watching him wince in pain when he dropped her onto the ground. For a brief moment, she considered running away from him and from everything that had just transpired, but as she readjusted herself on the ground, her body hurt in ways she never felt before, a deep ache that continuously throbbed with every beat of her heart. She barely had the energy to move, let alone think about actually running away. Even in her young mind, she realized that being lost in a large forest would have meant certain death; had she succeeded in her escape attempt, she would still be lost in the woods and an unfamiliar location, hurt and tired. She’d get injured or worse – killed and eaten by the animals that inhabited the area.

So she opted to remain silent and limp – defeated.

Izumi remained rooted in the spot staring blankly into the darkening forest, trying her best to stay awake, when Hiro pulled up his shirt. She saw the large wound that Katsumi had inflicted and turned away, squeamish at the sight of the blood that was oozing out of the cut.

“Oh, the little girl doesn’t like blood?” Flinching at the voice, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, choosing to remain silent as she clenched her eyes shut. “Well, good thing Hiro here knows how to patch up a wound like this, am I right?” The shinobi cackled alongside the sound of ripping cloth. “Your brother sure did a number on me though – I’m surprised, truly, especially for how tiny the kid was. How old was he? Eight? Nine?”

Izumi continued ignoring him, squeezing her eyes as she sat against the tree he had dropped her against. Her body was rocking itself as she began thinking of anything to stop his voice from terrorizing her even more than it already did.

“Hey, brat, are you listening?” There were footsteps until she felt a body too close to hers. Heart racing, she yelped as a foot connected with her leg, eyes shooting open. “I asked you a question – I don’t like being ignored.”

His crazed stare unnerved her, prompting her to quickly answer. “He’s ten,” she mumbled.

“Huh, older than I thought then.” Taking a few steps back, he returned to treating his wound, leaving them in silence until he looked at her a few minutes later. “You meant was, right?”

“W-What?”

Hiro finished tying his makeshift bandage around his waist, looking at her as if she was stupid. “I said, was.”

“I don’t–”

“The kid’s dead, idiot. So he was ten – not is.”

Her eyes slowly widened at his words as disbelief coursed through her body. “T-That’s a lie – Nii-san wouldn’t…he wouldn’t die! Not to the likes of you!” she vehemently countered, clenching her fists with a sudden burst of anger.

Hiro looked taken aback at the fire in her voice before throwing his head back with a laugh. “You’re a spicy one, I’ll give you that! Too bad your older brother died; he would’ve been a good kid to bring back too.”

He then spat at the dirt in front of her, his saliva tinged with blood.

With these words, Hiro had made sure to kill whatever hope she had before it was even allowed to take root in her heart, and while she didn’t believe him, a part of her couldn’t help but think what if–

The sound of a whistling momentarily froze the thoughts that had her wanting to shoot up and attack her kidnapper. Hiro had straightened his back with a slow smile, the whites of his teeth stained with blood, before he called out in response to the whistle.

“I’m over here!”

A barrage of sound came from the trees as a handful of individuals, dressed similarly to Hiro, materialized out of nowhere from the shadows of the trees. There was one child who untied and awake amongst the group, most likely taken from the compound as she had been, and one unconscious preteen bound in rope. Both were unmistakably Uchiha children, their clothing embroidered with the clan symbol, had their black hair and pale complexion not indicated otherwise.

“Where Toshiyuki– and what the hell? Why are you so bloody?” The tallest one with red hair asked Hiro, dropping the boy on the ground next to her. The other two kept the teen away from the children, opting instead to make sure she was still unconscious and bound. There were obvious markings of fighting on them, the darker-haired man hissing in pain as he rolled his shoulder, his shirt covered in scorch marks, while the woman was attempting to bandage the various injuries that marred her own body – the one on her arm looked suspiciously like a burn, already blistering. The unconscious teen herself was also quite bloody with one of her eyes swollen shut, her hair matted with what looked to be her own blood.

“Probably dead now; this brat had her brother with her when I found...”

Izumi chose to tune out their voices, opting to turn to the boy next to her who had also been taken. She observed him for a moment, watching as a myriad of emotions shift through his eyes before they settled on something she couldn’t quite make out. “Hi,” she whispered with a shaky voice, attempting to gain his attention. “I’m Izumi.”

He whipped his head, looking dazed as he shook his head, lips thinning as he said, “D-Don’t talk, they’ll get mad.” He looked to be about her age, perhaps a year or two older, but Izumi couldn’t be too sure. She hadn’t really interacted with children her own age, having private tutors to mentor her instead of being taught in a classroom. She only ever saw her brothers –

Her brothers.

Arata.

Madara.

Izuna.

Katsumi.

At the thought of her older brother, Izumi felt herself grow numb, her own eyes growing wet as she recalled what Hiro had said to her. Whatever strength her body had found at the sight of more children like her quickly dissipated as true defeat weighed heavily in her bones. She had no energy to struggle nor speak anymore, especially given how quickly the boy next to her had shut her down. So she simply nodded to the kid and mumbled a quick apology, turning back to observe the kidnappers having nothing else to do. It seemed like whatever they had planned had been a success, as they all looked satisfied with themselves.

They continued speaking for a few more minutes, voices ringing around her but not really registering when the boy next to her suddenly coughed, bringing their attention back to them. The group froze before turning to them, a frown on the redhead’s face. “Should they be awake?”

Hiro gave this a second thought before bursting out laughing as if he had said the funniest thing. “You’re right, we should knock them out!” One moment he had been across the clearing and the next, he kneeled in front of the two kids. “Lights out kiddos!”

A hand reached out at her but when she scrambled away – as did the boy – her back collided with the tree behind her, bringing her to a halt.

There was only the echo of his laughter before – nothing.

0O0

Izumi opened her eyes slowly; her head felt heavy, thoughts muddled and sluggish. It took her too long to realize that she was in a moving cart, the groaning of wood and the sounds of horses around her. Only then did the events of the past day rush back in a fury and she shot up despite her body's protests, startling whoever was next to her.

“What the–”

"Sorry," Izumi muttered. Her eyes lingered on the boy’s bound wrists for only a second as she couldn’t help but just stare at him; he was unlike anybody she had ever seen before, with shockingly white hair and strange crimson eyes that looked back at her as well.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed between them before his gaze shifted to the Uchiha clan symbols that had been expertly embroidered into her kimono, blending in with the floral motifs that were still visible through the caked-on dried mud. His expression darkened. “...You’re an Uchiha?”

Her brows drew together at the sudden question, put off by the accusatory tone in his voice, and took a moment before slowly nodding. “I-I am?” she said. He didn’t react to her answer; instead, he just…didn't respond nor did he bother talking to her again, turning away and leaning back against the cart, closing his eyes.

They were crammed into a tight space, with slivers of light filtering through the small gaps between the wooden boards in the otherwise dark enclosure, and everything rattled around her with each bump the wheels hit. They were all wearing strange metal cuffs and when Izumi examined hers closely – after choosing to ignore the strange boy as well – she noticed inscriptions on it that she couldn’t quite make out. There were too many people around her, mostly children or slightly older. Some were awake and crying, while others, such as the boy next to her, were silent.

It was then that Izumi noticed the teen from earlier who she had seen unconscious in the forest speaking to a girl wearing a kimono with the Uchiha clan symbol on her sleeve. Seeing this, Izumi cautiously rose up, only to grimace at how sore she was, barely managing to catch herself from toppling over onto the others due to her shaky legs. When she was certain she wouldn’t fall, she carefully began stepping over the various children to approach the girls.

“H-Hi.” Her voice cracked when she introduced herself to them, a result of her parched throat from a lack of water. “I’m an Uchiha, just like you guys." She pointed to the symbol on her kimono. "I’m...um, Izumi.” The teen’s eyes widened for a split second when her name left her mouth, and Izumi suddenly found herself being roughly shoved down, prompting a yelp in surprise at the unexpected manhandling. “What are–”

“Are you Tajima-sama’s daughter?” the teen hissed, glancing around to ensure none other than an Uchiha were listening. “The clan head’s daughter? That Izumi?” Confused, Izumi looked at the young girl next to the teen, hesitating for a moment before turning back and nodding. The older girl quickly let her go, her bound hands falling into her lap. “Shit. Did…did any of the kidnappers mention that to you when you were taken? Do they know your name?” Izumi responded with a quick shake of her head.

“Okay, that’s good then – that’s good. They don’t know who you are,” the teen muttered but more to herself than to anyone else. After a few tense seconds, she proceeded to lean in uncomfortably close, eyes wide. “You can't reveal your identity to anyone, okay? They can’t know you’re a member of the head family,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cries and groans. The sheer number of people in the wagon meant that it wasn’t completely silent but neither was it extremely loud either; had any of them listened closely enough, they would have been able to hear their kidnappers' conversations with each other from the outside. “Izumi is a common name so I think we can risk it but…I’ll think on that.”

“But–”

“–No, you need to listen to me because if word gets out that you’re being held hostage, who knows what’ll happen to you, to all of us. Were any of your brothers taken?” The teen tilted her head up and began scanning the people around them. “Were Madara-sama or Katsumi-sama–” At the mention of her brothers, Izumi felt a sob rise in her throat, and her expression must have revealed something for the teen’s face fell, paling in response. “No, that’s not– ” She appeared to be lost for a moment, but she quickly pulled herself together. “Okay. Okay. D-Don’t cry! It’ll be fine – we’ll be fine. I…you can call me Hitomi, okay?”

“A-Alright.”

“I know it might be hard, but can you tell me what happened?”

“...K-Katsumi–” Izumi bit her bottom lip, desperate to keep her tears at bay as she recalled the events that led her here– “He was stabbed by that crazy blonde man. I don’t know what happened next.”

Hitomi was hesitant to touch Izumi again but recognizing that she had already broken clan etiquette with her panicked actions earlier, she grabbed Izumi's hands which had been clenching her soiled and ripped kimono. The state of the girl’s clothing, with the dirt and holes, had most likely saved her. It successfully concealed just how well-made and expensive her kimono truly was, made with fabric reserved only for those of the upper class.

“I’m so sorry.” With a deep breath, she shifted around to let the other girl join their conversation. “Let me introduce you to Kazuyo.” The younger girl next to Hitomi twitched at the mention of her name; she looked to be Izumi’s age and in a similar state as the rest of them, her own kimono bloodstained and cuts on her face. “She said she’s been in here for a few days but that this is the first time the wagon’s been moved since she’s been awake.”

“Yeah.” Kazuyo sat back against the wood, her arms curled around herself, choosing to ignore every part of the previous conversation concerning Izumi's status as a member of the head family. “But some of the other kids in here aren’t just Uchiha – some are Hagoromo too. If I remember my symbols right, I think some might even be from the Senju.”

When the Senju were mentioned, Izumi watched Hitomi’s only opened eye harden, but she stayed mute as the young teen murmured to herself again once more. “So they’re taking more than just Uchiha? But why? This isn’t making any sense – and why children?”

Everyone suddenly slid forward when the cart violently jolted, the sounds of creaking wood and muffled laughter from their kidnappers ringing throughout the transport; several children began to wail even louder in response. There was a loud banging from the outside, preceded by a sharp, shut up, that scared most of them into quiet sniffles and whimpers instead.

Kazuyo bumping into Hitomi interrupted the older girl's train of thought, bringing her back to their current situation. She looked at both of the girls, observing their shifting expressions. Both had unfocused gazes and the tightness with which they held themselves betrayed just how terrified they were. In her mental spiral, she had quickly forgotten that these two weren’t the shinobi-trained kids she worked with every day – they were civilians, children.

With a dejected sigh, Hitomi let her head fall against the wall, wood digging into her scalp. What was she going to do?

Fortunately, they continued towards their destination with relative peace – or as much peace as one could get while being kidnapped. There were simply no strange sounds nor movements, the road they were on was as smooth as gravel could be, and none of the enemy-nin had bothered to check in on them.

As time passed, Hitomi was gradually able to release some of the tension in her muscles, the rocking motion of the wagon forcing her eyes to grow heavy due to the nearly overwhelming fatigue that plagued her. She had only been chakra-exhausted once before and it was nothing compared to now; back then, she still felt the steady flow of her chakra, even when it had been depleted – but now? She felt empty, a loss unlike any other; her attempts to reach for her chakra yielded only anguish at the emptiness that responded.

She was completely useless – she couldn't access her chakra or sharingan, she had no weapons; she had nothing. In her present state, she wouldn't have been able to kill a fly if she so had to.

How pathetic, she thought to herself before succumbing to the fatigue.

While she hadn’t actually fallen asleep in the literal sense, still somewhat aware of her immediate surroundings, when Hitomi opened her eyes sometime later the sunlight spilling through the cracks had shifted directions, and several of the others appeared to have calmed down. She felt as rested as she could be in her current circumstances – or, at the very least, she had more energy than earlier. She turned to see Izumi and Kazuyo sitting next to each other whilst hugging their knees, mumbling to one another; about what, she couldn’t hear.

Kazuyo was the first to notice her, eyes widening a little, prompting Izumi to do the same. They both appeared relieved, a small smile on each of their faces.

“Everything okay?” she quietly asked in response.

The two looked at each before Izumi answered. “We…we weren’t sure if you were going to wake back up. You’re really hurt, Nee-san, and we didn’t know what to do.”

With a forced smile, the young teen sucked up the aches in her body and ruffled both of their hairs with her bound hands. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve gone through worse.” That was a lie. “I’m a kunoichi, after all.” Not a lie.

“You’re a…kunoichi?” Kazuyo seemed to perk up. “Like, actually? That’s so cool! You know, I’ve always wanted to be one. I’d play ninjas with my friends but they’d make fun of me because they were all boys, saying that I couldn’t be one. But I still really wanted to, so my mom–” But as soon as she mentioned her mother, the little girl froze, taken aback by her slip up, because now she couldn't stop thinking about her dead mother, murdered while attempting to protect her. Kazuyo quickly clamped her mouth shut, desperately trying to forget those final moments; she held herself even tighter, opting to bury her face into her knees before any of them could see her newly formed tears. “She…she tried to enroll me in the school anyway,” she finally managed to say after a brief pause, her voice muffled by her kimono.

Hitomi’s heart sank at how shattered the two girls were, each having lost someone dear to them as a result of their kidnapping.

“Well…I was a special case, they said,” Hitomi began, hoping to divert their attention to her. “I activated my sharingan when I was around ten when my home was attacked by bandits.” Hitomi tapped the side of her uninjured eye. Although she couldn’t activate her dojutsu due to the block they placed on her, the young teen found solace in the fact that when the shackles that trapped her chakra were removed, she’d be able to properly fight back. “I didn’t live at the main compound, you see, so when it was activated it shocked everyone. Then I had to start my training to protect our clan and while it hasn’t been easy, I make do with what I've got.”

Before they could continue talking though, a hiss escaped her mouth at the sudden sharp blistering pain from her wrists. The culprit was the rope binding her wrists together, rubbing them raw with every slight movement, aggravated the burns even more. “Shit,” she grumbled, wincing as she struggled to find a comfortable position for her hands.

“Your wrists…is that why they’re tied?” Izumi pointed to herself and the others around them. “Most of us aren’t.”

Hitomi was forced to recall her fight with the kidnappers. “I’m assuming so. Anybody that probably put up a good fight is most likely tied up.”

There wasn’t much else to say and they lapsed into an uneasy silence, the severity of the situation weighing heavily on their minds. “Have…have you seen the boy I was kidnapped with?” Izumi abruptly asked, breaking the silence. “We were knocked out at the same time.”

Kazuyo was the only one with the answer, as she had seen the three of them arrive. “I’m pretty sure you’re talking about that kid over there, right?” She pointed somewhere behind Hitomi, towards the back. “He won’t stop mumbling to himself. Hitomi-neesan and I both tried talking to him earlier because he’s, you know, like us, but he kept tellin’ us to shut up and to leave him alone.”

“He’s most likely in shock,” Hitomi quickly added. She saw how…dead he looked, his eyes wide and unblinking, staring off into nothing as his body trembled.

“He was like that when I first saw him too.” Izumi sniffled, holding her tears back as she recalled their brief conversation. She was just as scared as he was, but she couldn’t just…do nothing. Talking with others just like her – that was all she could really do, finding comfort in the familiar.

Their conversation ended there; the cart came to a sudden halt, forcing several of the children to tumble over top of each other. There was banging from the outside – in a span of a few seconds screaming and crying erupted, ringing in Izumi’s ears, as the sudden smell of urine wafting throughout the tight quarters caused her stomach to lurch. Her nose wrinkled at the stench but before she could bring her hand up to cover her nose, a door slammed open, flooding the otherwise dark carriage with light.

Several kids threw up a hand to block out the sun, as did Izumi, their eyes readjusting to the unexpected brightness. A man she didn't recognize appeared at the door, flanked by six others, all of whom were large and intimidating, wielding spears.

“Alright you brats, don’t try anything funny, you hear me? I know some of you probably have shinobi training, but around here –” he motioned with his spear– “There’s nothing for miles. No towns, nothing. We will use these if you attack us, so don’t bother trying.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at everyone, but specifically chose to meet the gazes of those who had their wrists bound. “I mean it.”

It took a few minutes to get them all out of the cart, and while some of the older children ignored his warning and struggled against them, the kidnappers soon squashed any dissent with threats of violence, which everyone saw when they slapped a boy who tried to flee.

They were divided into groups organized by clans: there had been a few Hyuga in the cart, and alongside the handful of Senju were the Uzumaki, easily distinguishable by their bright red hair. There were also mentions of two clans that Izumi had only heard about once: the Iburi and the Chinoike.

It was unsettling – every single child belonged to a clan, none were clanless.

Once the men did a headcount – there had been a total of nineteen of them shoved into the tiny transport cart – they were promptly dragged down into a basement. There Izumi noticed even more people of all ages sitting in cells in different states of disarray; some were injured, while others sat on the floor, watching the newcomers as they passed by.

The kidnappers were nondiscriminatory in choosing the cells: some of the Uchiha were thrown in with the Senju, others with the Hagoromo. Izumi was lucky enough to be tossed into a cell with familiar faces, all of whom were from the cart she had been trapped in.

“Is everyone all right?” Hitomi asked once the armed men left. She rubbed her wrists, relieved that the ropes were finally off but unhappy with the single metal shackle around her ankle – around all their ankles. She quickly counted a total of eleven of them, herself included, in the dark cell.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah.”

All of them were huddled around members of their own clans, and with a quick glance, Hitomi noticed the various symbols on everybody’s clothes – the Uchiha, Senju, Uzumaki, and even an unrecognizable one.

Taking a good look, she couldn’t help but frown; only one other person appeared to have had some sort of combat training, and this was just an assumption based on the identical rope burn that marred the white-haired boy’s wrists. But unlike her, he kept silent and to himself, not bothering to interact with anyone. He merely sat in the corner, three others sitting beside him. While they weren’t speaking to each other, the boy had a demeanor that seemed to be protective of the smaller children, glaring at every person who dared to approach or even look at them.

Hitomi was just exhausted. She rested a hand against the wall to somewhat catch her breath, but then proceeded to run her hands along the cold rock, palms slipping on the bumpy stone as she heard the echo of water dripping down from the ceiling. They were clearly in a derelict prison cell of some sort, judging by how many people were being held captive; she observed at least a half-dozen additional cells while being brought here.

The cell itself was rather vast, deeper than she had initially thought. There was one tiny window high up on the wall near the ceiling that hardly let any light into the damp cell, and it was barely wide enough for one of the smaller children to fit through but barred from the outside by metal bars.

Just what were those shinobi doing here?

She turned her head to the entrance, clenching her jaw at the sight of the iron bars that ran both horizontally and diagonally from the ceiling and walls in a grid-like formation. There was only one door and lock, and judging by the shuffling of feet, a guard was patrolling the area every few minutes.

“D-Don’t bother trying to escape,” a voice called out to them from the dark – it was the same boy Izumi had asked after earlier. “There’s n-no point.”

Izumi was the first to speak up. “How can you be so sure? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The boy shook his head, grabbing his ears painfully as he clenched his eyes. “N-No, n-no no!” With a sob, his whole body shook. “We’re going to die down here!”

Hitomi rushed over to the kid, placing her own hands over his in a pitiful attempt to calm him down. The last thing any of them needed was a child wailing in panic – she could hear one doing exactly so in another cell and the frantic hushes of others that accompanied said crying. “Hey, kid, it’s okay.” She gently pulled his palms away from his ears. “We’ll figure something out, okay? I’ll figure something out. I’m a shinobi, after all.”

He slowly opened his eyes, where he looked at her with a broken gaze as he shook his head. “You can’t promise something like that though. If you were a shinobi, you shouldn’t be here then. Which then means you lost and we’re going to die.”

She sighed and pinched her nose with her fingers, thinking for a moment what to say, but her mind was blanking. “I… You’re right, I shouldn't promise things like that because I did lose – but I won't next time. Besides, I know I don’t want to stay here and you don’t either, right?” With a forced smile, she decided to introduce herself. “I’m Hitomi.”

The boy looked at Kazuyo then to Izumi, who had trailed after her. His eyes lingered on the clan symbols on their clothes. “...I-I’m Yuji. Hagoromo Yuji.”

“Hagoromo?” Izumi tilted her head where they all looked at the Uchiha crest on his shirt. “But you have our symbol on your clothes.”

“Oh, I-I’m half Uchiha. I was visiting my grandparents.” With a sniff, he wiped his nose with a sleeve before touching his embroidered sleeve. “My f-father is a Hagoromo.”

Hitomi quickly ushered them to the other side, away from the Senju and Uzumaki. The cell was large enough for them to keep their distance from each other if they so chose to. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the white-haired boy talking to the other three children, two of whom had Uzumaki red hair, but he hadn’t moved nor even acknowledged the Uchiha.

Typical, Hitomi thought, internally sneering at him and the Senju as a whole. Her hatred for his clan was ingrained into every Uchiha, and even in situations such as this, the boy’s unwillingness to engage with them, with those in the same predicament as him, fueled the flames of rage that burned within her.

Once they all sat down and began talking with one another, asking about ages and whatnot, Hitomi began to scheme. She would need to if she were to flee from here with three other children – and perhaps more if there were other Uchihas being held hostage here. She had no choice. No choice. It was her responsibility as a shinobi to protect the clan and its people – after all, how could she call herself a soldier if she couldn't even accomplish that?

She would find a way to save them all – even if it meant her death.

0O0

By the time Hitomi had finally acquired any sort of information on the everything about their situation, five months would have passed, putting the date somewhere around March – she couldn’t be too sure, having been unconscious at the beginning, so the exact date was most likely off. Izumi's birthday had come and gone, and each day Hitomi had grown increasingly despondent with their situation. It just…wasn’t looking too good for them, with no indication of rescue from any of their clans and while nothing drastic had occurred yet, she had a feeling that their time was soon coming to an end.

Every day, like clockwork, they would all hear the sound of screaming echoing off the stone walls, ringing in her ears as it grew closer and closer as the weeks passed. A fear that tormented Hitomi daily, that pushed her to confront the realities of their predicament in this prison hellhole, was that one day those cries would be from someone in this cell, tortured for information that they had no knowledge of. Would she be the first to break…or would it be one of the Senju instead?

She assumed that no one here held top-secret information that could be revealed to the enemy or, in general, had any sort of intelligence that they would have had over their adult counterparts.

And despite her…dislike for the rival clan – she used the word loosely – Hitomi liked to think of herself as someone who understood right from wrong, who didn't take pleasure in cruelty. She wasn't blinded enough by her hatred to see that they were all children here, stolen from the safety and protection of their homes.

They were just children.

And yes, she also considered herself as one in their current situation because, at the tender age of fourteen, she was still considered a minor – albeit a minor who knew how to kill a man creatively in a dozen different ways with a dozen different weapons.

After the first few weeks into her abduction, there was a sudden realization that practically everyone here possessed some form of kekkei-genkai – but even with this knowledge, she couldn't explain the kidnapping of the Senju or Uzumaki. To the best of her knowledge, they lacked the ability to wield the unique techniques of a kekkei genkai like the Uchiha's sharingan or the Iburi's smoke-release jutsu.

It just made no sense – and while Hitomi was well aware that she wasn’t the smartest shinobi to have graced this earth, she was also, undeniably, not a brainless idiot of a human being. She had enough awareness to recognize the patterns when something wasn't right.

Were they being held for ransom?

But had that been the case, that would require them to know who Izumi was – and as far as Hitomi could tell, their captors were a bunch of brainless fools. Hell, she was sure of it. If they knew that they held the goddamn heiress of the Uchiha clan in their dungeon, they would have separated her by now, keeping her alone and away from her own people to use as leverage over the clan. They wouldn’t have treated her the same way they did for the past five months.

Nothing made sense.

“Tch.”

Hitomi stormed over to where the singular window lay, the grass swayed in the wind. She stood there, attempting to calm the storm waging in her mind, as she watched the sky gradually grow darker and darker as blue melted with the hues of the sunset into an eventual black, until the next thing she knew, only the twinkling of stars lit up the night sky.

She slowly looked back to the cell’s occupants, a permanent frown etched into her face. The Uchiha – and Yuji, the only Hagoromo here – had maintained a sort of mutual agreement between the Senju and Uzumaki, no thanks to her and the boy on their side. They hadn’t fought, surprisingly enough, recognizing that their situation was not one to fight in; it did not mean, though, that they were friends. Any interaction had between them was still cold – downright frigid – and Hitomi saw it best fit to keep to their side of the large cell.

The other clan imprisoned alongside them had been the Iburi, with the three of the children being the youngest here. With no older child amongst them, the role of ensuring they were being taken care of had fallen onto either the Uchiha or the Senju, and Hitomi guiltily admitted to herself that she initially had no desire to do so. Her hands were full enough as it was, trying to ensure that Izumi and the other two were as okay as they could be.

Yet, it was Izumi, the youngest of the Uchiha, who had taken it upon herself to take care of the kids. And the times she couldn’t, Hitomi turned a blind eye to the white-haired boy, seemingly the oldest of the Senju and Uzumaki group – and he couldn’t have even been nine – who also went out of his way to look after the kids as well.

Hitomi did find out that the boy was called Tobi. Why the name sounded so familiar, she couldn’t put her finger on why.

The teen sat down, her back slowly sliding down against the rough stone. She absentmindedly picked at her iron shackle, a habit she developed during her imprisonment as she wasn’t quite used to the emptiness of where her chakra used to be. She just wanted these damn things off – she was slowly going crazy from not having anything to do here. During the first few weeks, she attempted to work out and somehow keep up with her warmups, but the lack of chakra that threw her off paired with the fact that her captors only fed all of them barely enough to keep them alive, forced her to give it up. She was burning more calories than her body could afford to, and even though they gave her the most to eat – but not enough – she always shared portions of her meals with the three Uchiha children she felt responsible for.

There was shuffling beside her, bringing Hitomi out of her thoughts. It was Izumi that sat beside her, resting her chin on her knees as she wrapped her arms around her legs. “Nee-san, do you think the Senju boy will be okay?” she asked, tilting her head to look at the young teen. “They’ve never taken any of us alone and…and I don’t like it.”

Izumi was afraid, to say the least. These past few months had been stressful and even in her young mind, she knew that the lack of demands from their kidnappers was making them uneasy. They were just being held here, trapped with nothing to do. But for the first time, someone had come to take Tobi away – it was someone she had never seen before, and the look on the man’s face had been downright terrifying. Tobi had looked afraid but when he caught her watching, he had wiped all emotion from his face as he was dragged out.

“I’m not sure, Izu-chan.”

Hitomi had forced herself to call Izumi by a childish nickname rather than the heiress she actually was. Dropping the sama from her name had been uncomfortable for the teen, but what was she to do? Expose the biggest secret that the Uchiha in this room was holding to keep not just her but themselves safe?

A loud screeching sound of metal on rock flooded the space, halting all conversations. Two men shoved their way into the cell, with one holding a spear pointing at the children. No one moved, as they were all looking at the limp boy in the man’s arms. His eyes were wide open with marks of tears on his cheeks, and the guard dropped him onto the pathetic excuse of a straw mattress they used to sleep on without a word, slamming the gate closed when he left.

The cell was deafeningly quiet, with none of the other Senju and Uzumaki children going to check on the boy. The air was tense and no one dared to move, too afraid of the chance that the guards would return, change their minds and take another one of them. Tremors ran through his body every few seconds, and Hitomi found herself looking at the other three of his companions – they were six at best, old enough to know something was wrong but too young to be of any help.

But before she could even entertain the idea of checking up on him, Izumi had left her side and was slowly walking towards him. Damn her and her soft heart, Hitomi thought, quickly standing up.

“S-Senju-san?” Izumi called out, giving a brief glance and the three kids huddled near him. “Hello?”

“Izu-chan, don’t–”

When she kneeled down, she cautiously reached a hand out to touch his shoulder when he shifted – he still remained laying on the ground but his hand caught her wrist, their eyes locking onto one another. She gulped, her own eyes widening, but a sob tore itself out of Tobi's mouth as his tremors grew in intensity. This seemed to break whatever spell over the room as Hitomi found herself heading toward the boy, holding a hand out to the smaller children he watched over to tell them to stay put.

“Hey, Senju, what’s wrong?” Hitomi quickly asked, trying to see any injuries on his body. “What did they do–”

Izumi helped him sit up, glancing at Hitomi every few seconds, when Tobi shook his head, eyes welling up with tears.

“There…there were so many bodies,” he whispered, voice devoid of any emotion as his eyes stared off into nothing. “O-Of all of us, from all our clans.”

Hitomi’s heart stopped. “W-What?”

“Children, teens, adults – there were just so many.” When he finally met her eyes, she forgot about all the hatred she held – because at this moment, she was looking at a kid who was terrified beyond belief. She was looking at a child who sought nothing more than comfort and protection because he was just a kid.

And she was the eldest amongst them, the closest thing any of them had to an adult, despite the fact that she wasn't even one.

But Hitomi found herself placing a gentle hand on his arm, kneeling in front of him, fulfilling the role that was forced upon her. She softened her voice, forcefully releasing the tension she was feeling in her shoulders. “...What did they do to you?” Izumi continued to hold onto him, her own eyes reflecting the alarm they must have all felt at the new development in their situation.

“T-They’re trying to…” he hiccuped, clenching his eyes shut, “They’re trying to turn us into p-puppets.”

“Puppets?” Hitomi sat back on her heels, confused. “That makes no sense–”

“T-They’ve figured out how to control dolls with chakra threads. I-I’ve seen it done at home when a traveler put on a show for us.” When Tobi finally opened his eyes, she couldn’t help but note how similar his red eyes were to her sharingan; it was strange to see the eye color but have no power behind the red, as she was just so used to seeing the renowned power that had made the Uchiha so feared but sought after. “B-But he was from the Land of Wind.”

“...And the people here are trying to figure out how to do it with people despite being nowhere near those damned deserts.” He silently nodded as she finished his sentence. “Fuck.” She felt like punching something – anything, really – and took deep breaths to try and calm her pounding heart. Her hand was on her forehead, grimacing as her thoughts ran wild, feeling a headache coming on.

Izumi sat near Tobi as he wrapped his arms around himself. The flames from the hall danced across their faces, illuminating the dark cell, but the shadows only intensified Hitomi's fear and anxiety. When the teen discreetly took a closer look at the Senju, she noticed chakra burns that resembled threads in the locations of the body's tenketsu points – if she had her sharingan, she would have confirmed it as well.

This was far worse than she initially thought what going to happen. This was so bad.

But the worst thing of it all?

…She had no idea what to do.

Chapter Text

Hitomi had a startling realization soon after Tobi told them about the puppets and the disgusting experiments.

It was no secret that the Senju and Uzumaki were home to powerhouses of ninjas on the battlefield. Not that her clan was anything to laugh at either, also producing infamous shinobi throughout their known history as well. But due to the Senju and Uzumaki’s lack of a known bloodline limit like the sharingan or the Iburi’s smoke release, she could only assume then that their bodies were the reason they were taken.

Her early memories of school served her well, reminding her that chakra was processed differently within every living being.

While trying to come up with an answer that judged the entirety of two clans – a scale that included thousands of people – was nigh impossible for someone not so versed on the subject, she recalled one of her few teachers briefly mentioning that the two clans were closely tied in blood. That they were, as much as she hated admitting it, incomparable to the average clan. Most of the shinobi they produced had larger stores, their chakra enhancing the vitality of their body at a much faster rate than others. Over the decades, shinobi that were well into their fifties could be seen on the battlefield fighting amongst the earlier generations, still as fast and powerful as their youth.

It was abnormal.

She hated to admit it but there was a good reason why they still remained as formidable enemies against the Uchiha.

So while her hypothesis on why Senju and Uzumaki children were kidnapped couldn’t be confirmed, she knew that it had to have been because of this abnormality, the malleability of their chakra and bodies.

But none of this helped her formulate a plan to escape though, did it? She couldn’t really confirm nor deny this theory because it was her brain just trying to find ways to distract her from the looming threat of their inevitable deaths.

“Nee-san?”

She opened her eyes, the voice pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Yuji?” Her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

The young boy sat away from her, hugging his legs to his chest. “...Are we next?”

Softening her features, she hoped it would show that she was making an effort, however brief, to console his fears. For a moment, she wanted desperately to lie and tell him that everything would be okay, but there was a dark glint in his eyes that told her that her deceptions would do nothing to comfort him. He may have been a child but he was one born into war and raised in conflict. And…he deserved the truth. He shouldn’t be misled for the sake of sugar-coating their current reality.

“I won’t lie to you,” she whispered back, unable to hide the regret, “I can’t promise we won’t be.”

She couldn’t help but look at Tobi, who remained huddled in the corner of their cell, the young children he had kept watch over seated around him. She knew he would remain asleep for the next few hours until the familiar screeching of metal on rock, no matter how faint, would wake him up in a cold sweat. Witnessing such horror at his age was something Hitomi wouldn’t wish on anyone, even a Senju.

Two months had passed since he had been taken alone and their captors had yet to return, opting to instead take children and teens from the other cells. It was only a matter of time before those bodies would pile up though, before they ran out of other innocent children to experiment on. The thought of being the next dead body they carted out terrified her beyond belief, her fitful sleep showing her nothing but nightmares these days, unable to even escape in her dreams.

Sadly, it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Her fear wasn’t going to stop anything.

Yuji seemed to accept her answer for what it was and nodded before letting his head fall back into his arms, leaving Hitomi alone once more. The next few hours flew by in a blur until suddenly, she was startled awake by familiar screeching – only, this time, light flooded the entrance to their cell. She shot up to her feet, trying to ignore the dizzy spell that came from the abrupt movement; it served only as another reminder of her growing malnutrition and weakening body.

Two guards stood watch, a spear pointed directly at them as if they were a threat. She would have scoffed at the sight if the situation deemed otherwise; a group of starving children denied access to their chakra were obviously no match against fully grown adults. Anyone would have known that.

Idiots, she thought to herself.

This time, though, there was a person that she had never seen before – a lanky bald man stood between the guards, reading from some list in his hand as he adjusted his glasses. There was a certain…sliminess to him to which her body responded to by shuddering, her useless instincts screaming at her to run. Where was she to run, exactly?

Headfirst into the wall, maybe, her mind uselessly responded, clearly of no help.

“You,” the bald man called out, his voice nasally as she knew it would be, “small Uchiha, come here.”

No one moved.

Hitomi must have been dreaming because it clearly looked like he was pointing to Izumi. Her young heiress, who remained seated on the ground beside Kazuyo, any and all flush to the little girl’s skin nonexistent. Her eyes looked owlish as she trembled.

The buzzing in Hitomi’s ears was only growing and she felt as though she were floating, watching from afar. Tears sprung into little Izumi’s eyes as Hitomi just stood there, frozen – so weak, unable to do anything. Maybe her teachers were right, maybe she really was useless, a waste of potential because she had to be born a girl. Her sharingan a fluke, an abnormality in a system that dictated shinobi were men and women were not. Her teachers, her classmates, and even her own father would say these things because maybe they were right.

Because she was so pathetically weak. She couldn’t even protect children, let alone herself. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

So Hitomi just stood there, watching one of the guards come into the cell and roughly grab Izumi’s arm, gripping her with such unnecessary strength.

That was definitely going to leave a bruise, she mindless thought, the world around her slow and hazy.

The little girl threw her body around as much as she could to try and escape. But she was just a child and all she could really do in this scenario was scream, to cry as she was being dragged away, tears pouring from her eyes.

“Nee-san!” she called out.

And Hitomi, well, she blinked. Nee-san?

Time seemed to reorient itself, her brain finally catching up with the past several seconds she had stood there in a strange daze. All at once, life came crashing down in a force that had her gasping for air, the buzzing momentarily clearing. Without thought, her body darted forward with a speed that truly shouldn’t have been possible with the current state of her body, grabbing the unsuspecting guard. She twisted his arm in a full circle, finishing the move off by slamming his overstretched arm onto her leg without so much as a grunt. It was a move she tried countless times in training but never in a real-life scenario. The bone snapping and the subsequent scream shouldn’t have been as satisfying as it was – but who was she to deny the fire in her screaming for revenge?

She shoved Izumi behind her and kept one hand forward, carefully watching the guard collapse to his knees, his now broken arm flopping uselessly beside his body.

“My arm!”

“Tobi, get behind me,” she hissed at the young boy who was still standing separate from everyone. He scrambled behind her with the other three children, leaving her the sole protector of a total of ten children.

Of course – of course this wasn’t a goddamn dream. Their kidnappers were coming for them. She knew their luck couldn’t have lasted. It was only pure chance that they had been overlooked up until today.

Izumi’s cries were now the only sound that registered in Hitomi’s mind, fueling the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her eyes darted to the spear the guard had dropped and he seemed to come to the same realization at the same time, but she was faster, reaching down and grabbing it before the stupid man could. For good measure, she delivered a bone-crunching kick to his face, successfully breaking his nose as he flew back.

“The bitch broke my nose!” the guard cried out, again, laying on the floor as the other guard stood uselessly a few feet back. The bald man had no emotion on his face, only watching as she stood before them brandishing her new weapon.

While she had never trained with this type of spear, personally preferring the naginata, a weapon was a weapon and she was nothing if not adaptable. At her core, she knew the basics, knew how to take down a much larger man even with just a simple bō. Without her full strength, this would be extremely difficult, nigh impossible, but she was stubborn. She refused to go down without a fight.

“Don’t just stand there, you fucking idiot – do something!” he cried out, waving his only working hand to his fellow partner. Blood was gushing down his face from his nose. If looks could kill, she would be burning on the spot with how intensely he was glaring at her.

She only narrowed her eyes in return and pointed the spear at the three men.

“What are you going to do with that, you stupid girl?” the slimy man suddenly asked, pushing his glasses up. His eyes were cruel as they watched her but beneath that was a glint that served only to rock her stomach with disgust and fear. “You’re going to kill us? Stage an escape?”

“What if I was, huh?” She tightened her grip around the wood. “What then?”

The man simply scoffed. “You and ten children?” He waved a hand. “Please. You alone against these idiots, maybe. But we both know you won’t abandon the kids.”

She was trying desperately to come up with a plan but her mind her worst enemy it seemed, opting instead to magnify the terror growing in strength. She was being relied on for protection and was failing them horribly. The soft cries behind her only intensified her pounding heart, eyes darting everywhere in hopes that there was something she could do to miraculously save them all.

But this was no fairytale, no hero was going to come blasting in to save them. She had to be the hero in the scenario, the only one that could do anything.

The creep motioned with his hand and the other guard came barreling in – larger than his groaning counterpart, the muscles on his arm near the size of her own thigh. He towered over them all and she knew there was almost no chance of winning this fight, not in the state she was currently in. Adrenaline did wonders but it was no miracle drug – she could already feel the fatigue that the earlier moves had cost her.

“Hand the girl over and no one else will get hurt,” the guard demanded in a flat but low voice. “It’s simple.” Killing intent radiated off of his body in waves, leaving her hands clammy.

She would have laughed at the demand because there was no way she was handing Izumi over that easily. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was a child, it would’ve been because Izumi was a member of the head family. As a Uchiha shinobi, no matter the circumstances, it was her duty to protect the clan heiress with her own life.

“No.”

The slimy man, who was clearly in charge, simply nodded before whistling. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that he was calling for more guards.

This wasn’t going to end well for any of them, she soon realized.

After flexing her hand on the spear, she quickly came to the conclusion that Izumi wasn’t an option, so she would have to be enough.

“I’ll volunteer in her place,” Hitomi suddenly said, the fear taking hold of her body and nearly her vocal cords. “I…take me instead.”

“Nee-san, no–”

“An interesting offer.” Opening the cell door, the boss took a look at her, a finger tapping against his bicep with his crossed arms. The sound of shoes slapping against the rock floor could be heard throughout the dungeon and not before long, five other guards were standing behind him. “A little older than what I would personally choose – stronger than most too.” With a shrug, he gave his answer. “But…no.”

She was already resigned to losing this fight. Her only hope was that taking down as many as she could would prove her…strength. That they’d be so angry with her that they would forget about the children, taking her away.

He clapped and everything went to hell.

The large guard closest to her leaped forward and she let him grab her arm. Using a dislodging motion, she used the spear as an aid to twist his wrist into an unnatural position. With the momentum, he fell to his knees with a grunt, and she proceeded to use the end of the spear to slam into his eyesocket. She ignored the popping sound his eye made along with the scream that followed, turning to her next opponent.

But no one moved and she took this as a moment to think – why were the guards so…weak? She didn’t have her chakra to sense theirs but it made no sense. At this rate, if all the guards were as pitiful as the two she already brought down, there may be a chance for her to escape.

She watched the man in charge openly stare at her. There were no glares, no emotion behind his face whatsoever. Instead, she had an uneasy feeling as though she was being observed instead. Was this his plan – to evaluate her strength against his men?

What was happening? They had to have known her history simply by the fact that she had nearly killed one of her kidnappers months ago – were they expecting her to sit idly by and let them take the children without a fight?

She took a second to look at the two lying men, both groaning in pain, before turning to the other guards. They all looked at her uneasily, waiting for her to make the next move. With resolve, she balanced the spear with both hands, jabbing the blade forward.

One of them tried to get around, reaching for the closest person behind her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a flash of white, recognizing immediately who it was – so with a cry, she whirled the spear around and brought the blade down onto the guard’s forearm. Tobi scrambled to her other side, nearly slipping on the stone in his rush to escape.

She didn’t have enough momentum to cleanly cut through the guard’s arm with how weak her body was. An unlucky situation for everyone involved as the blade was, as a result, left stuck in the bone. Despite the guard hissing in pain through clenched teeth, he was still somehow able to grab the spear with his other hand, his grip nearly strong enough to disarm her. She skidded a few feet forward as she tried her best to pull back in a sudden game of tug-of-war.

Before she could do anything else, she then saw to her left another guard going around her, grabbing Tobi’s tattered collar.

And of course, of course Izumi proceeded to make what Hitomi thought was the worst decision the girl had ever made by grabbing Tobi’s outstretched hand. She pulled and pulled with all the strength her weakened seven-year-old body had.

Hitomi now had to make a split-second decision – save the spear or the two kids.

Both were now being dragged to the door and time slowed down once again. Tobi’s eyes turned to her, red eyes watery and panicked.

That was all she needed to see.

With a scream, she pushed the spear with all her strength, throwing the guard off. He stumbled a few steps back as his grip suddenly loosened at the sudden move, and without hesitation, she whirled around to jump the second guard. She aimed for all of the weak spots she knew, fighting him as dirty as possible. Kicks and punches were aimed toward the soft flesh of his groin, and she knew success when there was a groan of pain and the man fell to the ground. However, her victory was short-lived as another guard proceeded to grab her hair and yanked.

Hitomi went flying across the room, far away from the kids as her body hit the stone wall with a loud crack. She crumpled to the ground, the burst of pain so intense that her entire world was thrown off kilter. Eyes twisted tight, a groan escaped her lips.

What–

She couldn’t just lay here–

The pain that followed immediately was a sensation that her skull was being split in two, her vision going red – and not from anger but blood gushing from a gash on her head.

Her body ached–

The fight had taken everything from her.

Izumi. Tobi. The kids–

She could barely string a coherent thought, let alone move. Her body had reached its limits. Time seemed to pass by too quickly with every blink – Izumi was still standing next to Tobi one second, the next she was being dragged by the entrance, the young boy with shocking white hair being shoved to the back of the cell.

Hitomi slowly blinked again and the little girl was now reaching to her through the iron bars, tears streaking down her face as she was taken away.

She felt like…she should be doing something – she had been, right?

Yes, the fight–

Feet blocked her vision as she tried to lift herself up, pushing with all the strength in her arms, but the lanky man slammed his foot down between her shoulders. That was all it took for her arms to give out, leaving her sprawled out on the floor once more. In the chaos, she failed to notice the spear in his hands because all she could think amidst her intense confusion was her impending death. He must have seen the fear muddled with the disorienting pain in her eyes though, the corners of his mouth slowly curling up in a cruel smirk.

“You stupid girl. Maybe when you die, you will have some uses after all.”

She braced herself as he spun the spear's blunt end downward, slamming it–

And she knew nothing else but the black unconsciousness.

0O0

Izumi did her best to fight against her captors, especially after witnessing the lengths to which Hitomi had tried to save her – to save them all, really – but the reality was that there was absolutely nothing she could possibly do against those so much bigger than her.

She was too small, too weak, and the guards were on alert after what happened.

The scary tall man just sneered at her once she was thrown into a small cage stacked against other empty ones, barely big enough for her to stand in. She threw herself at the door as it was locking anyway but she knew it was fruitless – she was trapped again, only this time with no one for company. At least in her cell, there had been the other children she could talk to.

Once the doors to the room slammed shut, effectively locking her in, she stopped pulling on the cage door in defeat, letting her forehead hit the metal bars.

“Hi,” a voice rasped next to her. She screamed, heart jumping out of her chest as she fell to the ground in fear.

For a moment, Izumi thought a spirit had called out to her, haunting the dark corridors of her prison. It was only when she narrowed her eyes, her sight finally adjusting to the sudden darkness that from the corner of the cage beside her she noticed a boy with blood-red hair lying against the bars of his cage. The boy had flinched from her scream, looking so exhausted, just completely worn out. There was an ill energy about him, skin too pale and eyes a little too dead.

“S-Sorry,” she apologized, careful to keep her voice down. “You scared me.’

“It’s okay. “The boy painfully nodded his head. “I would’ve…been scared too.”

Gathering her wits, she slowly readjusted herself, ignoring the clinking of the single chain on her ankle as she crawled over to sit beside him in the back, hidden somewhat by the shadows. Guilt wormed its way through the entirety of today’s events and its subsequent feelings, the exhaustion hit her in full force.

“Where…where are you from?” His voice was so quiet, almost inaudible despite the eerie silence in the room.

“I’m a Uchiha,” she whispered back, still afraid of how quiet the room was. She took in his hair and overall features that she could make out. “Are you Uzumaki?” she decided to ask anyways, although she already knew the answer.

“Do you…have any water?” Her heart fell when she had to shake her head. He didn’t seem angry, only defeated at her answer, making her feel all the more worse. “I…figured.” Enough time had passed as silence lapsed between them that she thought he had fallen asleep, so when his eyes fluttered open to look at her, she found herself jumping.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t say that.” She grabbed the hand that had been resting in his lap. Even though they were all in individual cages stacked beside one another, there was still enough room for her to reach in between the metal bars. “Don’t–” She had to push down the tears– “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

Immediately, tears pooled in his red eyes, weakly shaking his head. “I just…” He began sobbing but he still clasped her hand with his. “I just want to go home.”

Izumi began to cry as well. She was also extremely terrified. The boy next to her had burn marks all across his hands and feet, and with every move he made he would whimper in pain. Yet, he still talked to her. He moved his body to face her, even though it would hurt him. What mattered was that he did all of that in spite of the pain, because even at her age she knew that right now, clan politics didn’t matter. They were all children. She wouldn’t have cared if the boy next to her was a Senju – just like the Uzumaki boy said, she wanted to go home. They all wanted to go home. She missed her brothers, her father, and the feeling of safety that being around them gave her.

“What’s…your name?” the boy asked weakly. “I’m…Haru.”

She sniffed, her nose running from her tears. “I’m–”

“–don’t ever reveal your name, okay? They can’t know who you are. I’m assuming that by now, news of your kidnapping has spread throughout the Land of Fire.” Hitomi had decided to tell her one day, quietly and for her ears only.

“You said Izumi was fine,” she mumbled, feeling dejected. “Besides, everyone here calls me that.”

Hitomi glanced at the Uzumaki and Senju children before making a decision. “I’ll come up with some story. I’ve told Yuji and Kazuyo, along with the Ibuki kids.” With a sigh, she bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

“...It’s fine.”

And from that day, everyone called her Izu.

She froze at the memory, recalling the promise she made to the teen. But…Haru looked at her, confusion at her hesitance mixed with a bone-weary exhaustion, and she felt so dejected that she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m Izumi.”

The corners of Haru’s mouth turned up just the slightest. “Hi, Izumi-chan.”

He rested a head on one of the iron bars and Izumi found herself doing the same. Before she knew it, she was nodding off until they were breathing in tandem, even with Haruo’s rattling breaths. Their hands remained clasped in his lap as they both fell asleep, her resolve to escape with this boy, even though she had never met him before in her life, growing only stronger.

There had to be a chance for her to escape, for them all. It was what Hitomi would’ve done and what her brothers would have done too. If they could do it, so could she – she could be brave.

When she awoke next, alone and hungry, she tried her best to wet her lips with the limited moisture in her mouth but she was too dehydrated. There was no food or water left out for her like always – strange. So instead, she forced herself to sit up, rubbing her eyes as she wondered where she was until yesterday’s events caught up to her drowsy self. Immediately, her body went taut as she realized she was alone, Haru missing from his cage.

There was a small hole in the corner of the room, the pitiful excuse of a window too high for her to look through but lined with metal rods from the inside. At least from her angle, she could see some sort of light spilling into the room, but whether it was firelight or natural daylight she couldn’t be sure.

Damn – her concept of time was horribly skewed right now. With the others, at the very least Hitomi tried to keep some semblance of a routine, but without the older teen, she was now just scared. What could she even do? She was only seven – she had only the bare basics of training which had consisted of only learning how to punch and how to fall. That was it.

…No.

She could figure something out. Like she had told herself earlier, if her brothers could do it then she definitely could. It would just take time and she would just have to be brave, be smart like they would be.

Izumi pulled her legs up to her chest, her head resting on her knees as the pounding in her head grew. She was so thirsty and despite everything that had happened, her stomach panged with emptiness, an ache that was made worse every time Izumi attempted to swallow.

Needing to distract herself, she looked over at the cage next to hers. Wherever Haru was taken couldn’t have been good. She didn’t even know how long she had been asleep, how long he had been gone for – while she hoped that nothing bad was happening, she knew better than to hope for that.

So for the next few hours – she wasn’t really sure – she began counting the stones on the wall. She did at one point lose count around the 470 mark, forcing her to restart from the beginning, but it was mind-numbing. It was exactly what she needed to do to stop her brain from thinking about the inevitable what-ifs and the growing hunger in her stomach.

She lost count again when there was loud stomping and yelling from the hall behind the door. Without even thinking, she scrambled to the corner of the cage, trying her best to seem small enough to disappear as the door slammed open, flooding the dark room with bright light. She flinched at the crack the wood made against stone, hiding behind her arms as she felt the vibrations of the cage doors next to her open, the ear-piercing screech of metal dragging along the stone. There was a loud thud and a whimper that proceeded it and within seconds, another slam of the door. The room went quiet soon after.

Once she felt safe enough, Izumi slowly lifted her head. No one was there, only Haru struggling to sit up beside her.

“I-Izumi?” he called out. “It’s…dark.”

He couldn’t see?

“I’m right here,” she responded. She shot her hand through the bars, trying her best to help him sit up. It wasn’t much but it was all she could do at the moment to help him. She gave up, though, when he weakly pushed her hands away, seemingly finding his crumbled position on the icy stone more comfortable.

In the faint light from the open window, she finally was able to take a good look at him. If she had thought him ill the first time they met, then now he looked like the dead walking. A lump formed in her throat as she realized this, all words leaving her mind. His pallor was grey, red eyes unable to stay fully open. There were strange red streaks that ran up his arms and neck, and his every breath seemingly painful.

“I don’t–” Haru groaned, clenching his eyes– “I don’t…feel good.”

He didn’t look good.

Oh, she wanted to lie. Because that’s what grownups always did, right? Lie because they thought children were too dumb to recognize truth from fiction?

“It’ll…” She found her throat constricting at the words, knowing there was nothing she could do. “It’ll be okay,” she finally mustered the strength to say, the lie tightening its hold on her throat. She hoped it would be of some comfort, hoped that it would give the boy any strength. “Someone w-will find us all, come save us.”

He shook his head weakly. “I don’t…” Tears began to drip onto the stone from his closed eyes. “I d-don’t believe that…Izumi.” Even though she was trembling, she still reached out through the bars, grabbing his hand once again.

“I believe it.”

His eyes finally opened but only barely enough to look at her. There was a clarity to them that had her hopeful, so she forced a smile that must have resembled a grimace more than anything.

“Just…don’t leave?” he asked after a few seconds.

Izumi nodded her head, positioning herself on the floor to mimic him, even though that meant the stone would dig painfully into her shoulders. They faced each other, hands clasped between them.

“Never.”

The corners of his mouth raised just the slightest, revealing his bloodstained teeth.

She had to force a smile in return.

0O0

Izumi awoke to a strange rumbling, the walls around her shaking from an earthquake. She knew that for this area of the land, it wasn’t unusual; it hadn’t been the first earthquake since her kidnapping. Groggily, she blinked away the sleep in her eyes a few times, pulling her hand where it remained tight in Haru’s grip. She pulled a few times, grunting from how hard Haru was holding on, his grip iron-tight. Her body ached from the uncomfortable position – just like she knew it would – her hand cramping terribly. After giving up, she finally looked up to say something–

Haru’s unblinking red eyes stared past her, a waxy sheen covering his skin. There was an uncanny stillness to him as he lay there in the last position she could recall, limp red hair pooled on the floor. To her eyes, his hair looked like a puddle of blood.

He was–

She screamed.

With a cry, she began desperately to pry her hand out of his hold, and only after some trepidation did she finally use her other hand to touch him.

Why was he so cold?

“H-Haru, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbled over and over as she pulled with all her strength. “I’m so sorry.”

After one last yank, she fell back and her body hit the other side of the cage from the momentum. She refused to move. Instead, she curled up, trembling.

Haru continued to stare at her.

She swore his eyes were following her–

“Why didn’t you save me?” he rasped, mouth opening unnaturally, blood-colored eyes slowly turning to her as his head rose from the ground. “Why are you alive?” He began to move, slowly dragging his body through the bars, a trail of red–

She slammed both hands over her ears, clenching her eyes shut. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real, she was dreaming.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“I died alone.” There was screeching and what she swore was a crack as her world shook around her. “Just like your brother.” She froze, recalling the last moment she saw Katsumi, his hand reaching for her and they had been so close–

“Please–”

Izumi was so tired. She just wanted to go home, she wanted everyone to go home, she wanted to be saved she wanted to leave and she was so scared–

A louder boom echoed throughout the small room, and from it, a strange burning sensation began in her throat. From the small window, she could hear screaming and yelling, and it was when another loud boom was accompanied by tremors that she knew something was happening.

She gathered the courage to open her eyes, where she had to blink away the stinging from the smoke that was slowly filling the room. Haru wasn’t stuck between the bars like she had seen him to be. Instead, he was still in his last position, eyes wide open but silent.

She had just imagined it.

Of course. He was dead, there was no way he could’ve been talking to her.

She reached over and although her mind screamed at her to stop, she didn’t want to see him staring at her anymore. Surely, it would be fine to close his eyes?

So she did exactly that, using her two trembling fingers to slowly lower his eyelids until his red eyes were closed off to the world.

A small ball of tension loosened in her chest.

Another boom, this time accompanied by several pieces of the stones around her crashing down. For the first time ever, she found herself glad for the small cage, the metal above her protecting her from a particular large crash. She saw the dent above her, felt the cage shaking from the stone’s weight. The acrid smell of fire was only growing and soon, she found herself coughing from the smoke spilling in from beneath the door and the window.

Dust began to fall as more stones tumbled down all around her. In a terrifying moment, another heavy stone crashed atop her cage, bending not only the top but the metal bars all around her. If she tried, she now had enough space to force herself through the bars into Haru’s.

Not that she had any plans to. She didn’t want to go near his body, not really.

It was then that the door to the room blasted open, the wood spraying everywhere. The force of it slid her back a few feet as shards of wood came flying toward her. On reflex, she raised her arms and cried out from the pain as several pieces embedded themselves into her arms, but alongside the pain was an all-encompassing fear because there were now strange adults in the room.

“There’s more in here!”

A man kneeled, carrying a torch – she cried out when the light hit her eyes and she scrambled to the corner when he tried to reach out a hand.

“D-Don’t touch me!” she shrieked.

The man flinched back. Another person kneeled; this time, a woman’s face looked at her, soft and gentle in the firelight. She was smiling, with faint wrinkles around the corners of her eyes in an attempt to calm Izumi down.

She failed.

“It’s okay, we’re not here to hurt you,” the woman tried to say but Izumi only huddled even tighter into herself.

“D-Don’t–” She moved her head and from the corner of her eye, she saw another person opening Haru’s cage, and despite her fear she found herself crying out, “D-Don’t touch him!”

The hand froze. The man was looking at her but before she could say anything else, the door to her own cage swung open. When Izumi realized that, she began screaming again, doing everything possible to try and keep them away, to be safe because they were going to hurt her and do experiments on her like they did to Haru, and she wasn’t ever going to see anyone she loved ever again–

“Knock her out–”

“She’s hysterical–”

Voices overlapped as a hand finally caught her ankle. The person yanked, shocking pain running up her foot to her thigh, and she couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her mouth as she was dragged out from the safety of the cage.

However, luck must have been on her side because whoever had grabbed her flinched from her cry, inadvertently letting her go. She now had an opportunity – the door to the room was blasted open, pieces of wood swinging aimlessly on metal hinges, and for reasons unknown, the guards were being extremely weird.

She darted out from the outstretched hands, running straight for the open door–

But another hand grabbed her, the motion whipping her around, and all she could see now was one of the guards crawling into Haru’s cage–

“The kid’s dead,” she heard amidst the chaos all around her.

“L-Let me go!” She nearly bit the hand holding her but someone quickly stopped her, roughly picking her up. She was nearly thrown over a guard’s shoulder like a sack, eerily reminiscent of her initial kidnapping when the woman’s voice interrupted the motion.

“Be careful, you idiot! They’ve been through enough!”

Izumi was trying to look around, desperately hoping to escape when she registered a faint pinch in her arm. Warmth suddenly bloomed in her thin muscle and within seconds, a strange and unnatural heaviness began to weigh her down. Her body was unwilling to respond to her demands, to her desire to run and escape.

“No–”

Gentle hands caught her before she fully collapsed onto the ground. She tried to look around but her neck was refusing, and it was only then that the warmth of arms around her broke through the fog in her mind.

They were…gentle?

She felt oddly safe. They weren’t rough, not like when the guards typically handled everyone. A sob broke through her throat at how much she missed the feeling of safety – because this had to be a trick. So with all her strength, she forced her eyes open that she didn’t even realize she had closed.

Someone was kneeling in Haru’s cage.

“H-Haru,” she faintly called out, a limp hand reaching to him. “Haru.” Through blurry eyes, she saw the man pick him up, carried gently in his arms. If she hadn’t known otherwise, she would have said Haru was asleep, being rocked in the man’s arms.

These were her last thoughts as Izumi’s eyes fell shut, succumbing to the heaviness in her body.

0O0

There was a gentle humming, a hand brushing through her hair that awoke Izumi from her drowsiness. Her body was still heavy with sleep and she had to force herself to open her eyes, to blink away the enticing lure of unconsciousness.

It was quickly turning into a losing battle.

Her head lay comfortably atop a woman’s lap, a woman she had never seen before. Her hair was the color of the familiar night sky, warm amber eyes turned to the fluffy white clouds above them. Izumi should have felt scared by the stranger, the terror from her vulnerable position. Too much had happened these past few months, particularly these past few hours, for her to be so calm in the presence of someone who could potentially do her harm.

…But she was so tired.

She was comfortable. She was warm. It was love-encompassing, a warm blanket of safety she didn’t understand.

A gentle breeze brought the sweet aroma of flowers to her and as the sun began to set, the yellow and red hues settled over her. The grass she laid on swayed with the wind, softer than the feathers of a down. The hand didn’t stop brushing through her hair and despite all rational, Izumi found herself burrowing deeper into that warmth, knowing it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t – because she now knew what this was.

A dream.

“Sleep, child, sleep.” The song gently washed over her, the words engulfing her into a hug. “Oh, my child, sleep.” Tears prickled her eyes and Izumi squeezed them shut.

The song…it was a familiar lullaby that most mothers sang to their children. It took her sleep-addled brain a second to recall where she had last heard it; she had been walking through town with her brothers when they had passed a mother humming this very tune, rocking a sleeping infant on her back. At the time, Izumi had stopped to watch, openly staring at the woman as a strange longing suddenly welled up in her chest. It was a feeling she didn’t quite understand because it was towards a dead woman she would never remember – so when Madara had called out for her a few seconds later, she tried to forget the feeling and the interaction as a whole.

“Sleep, Izumi,” the woman whispered moments later. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Izumi didn’t want to fight it, so she wouldn’t. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up again, not if it meant she had to return to the nightmare of her reality – of a world that only wanted to hurt her.

So she closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

When Izumi opened her eyes, she was in a strange room and covered by an unfamiliar blanket. She blinked away the heavy drowsiness, trying to get her bearings as her mind caught up to the events of the last few hours.

Or days? She didn’t know how long she had been asleep for, honestly.

Slowly, she turned her head to look around; it was an open room, the familiar smell of tatami floors all around her, and she was lying on a surprisingly comfortable futon, the softest thing she had felt since her kidnapping. All of that pointed to a sign that something good had happened – perhaps those adults from earlier had saved them, saved them all.

She proceeded to turn her head to the other side, where her eyes quickly honed in on a familiar figure that she had thought dead, having succumbed to her wounds in that horrible fight against their kidnappers.

“Nee-san?” Izumi was hoping to say but all that came out of her mouth was a quiet wheeze, pain flaring in her throat. Until now, she hadn’t realized how dry it was, nearly too painful to even swallow with the lack of moisture in her mouth. But while she knew she needed water, her thoughts kept circling back to Hitomi.

She was alive; she wasn’t dead.

The teen was sitting upright on her own futon, crossed-legged and eyes closed, unaware that Izumi had woken up. There was a bandage neatly wrapped around her head, the white a startling contrast within the mass of black hair.

So Izumi forced herself to push the blanket off as she sat up, desperately ignoring the sudden rush to her head. Had circumstances been different, watching Hitomi suddenly whip her head up, only to then groan and clench her eyes shut at the quick movement, would have scared her. But circumstances were not such and all she felt was an onslaught of worry at the teen’s reaction.

Oh, what a pair they made.

Izumi’s energy was returning steadily as she found herself, moments later, scrambling off her futon to rush to the teen’s side.

“Y-You’re alive!”

“I’m alive?” A burst of a somewhat manic laugh escaped Hitomi’s mouth, her hand falling onto Izumi’s head. She looked down, unfamiliar tears falling from her dark eyes. “You’re alive,” she whispered thickly. “You’re alive, you’re alive.” With that, she began to cry in earnest, ugly snot and stuttering breaths muffling her sobs. “I fulfilled my duty,” she whispered her voice breaking at the end. Breaking all decorum, the teen pulled Izumi into a hug, dragging the girl across the futon. “I didn’t fail you.”

Izumi gladly returned the hug with vigor, her body having been starved of the warmth and comfort a hug had always provided her. So she simply nodded her head vigorously in agreement with Hitomi’s continuous mumblings of you’re alive. In the safety of the teen’s arms, she felt comfortable enough to take a closer look at the room, at the various bodies all around her that miraculously hadn’t woken up amid their emotional reunion. There were several people of different ages, unfamiliar young children ranging from toddlers to young teens – although none looked to be as old as Hitomi. Some were wrapped in bandages like Hitomi while others were lying on their futons, asleep.

“They told me you were just asleep,” Hitomi was mumbling into Izumi’s hair, “that you were just unconscious from the drugs but…” There was another hitch in her voice as she tightened her grip on Izumi. “I just…after everything, I couldn’t believe them, not until you woke up.”

Once the emotions running high had peaked and finally tapered down, Izumi found herself sitting beside Hitomi, pestering the older girl with questions. The teen continued to stare at Izumi with such profound relief that even the young girl felt what was a previously unknown weight lifting off her shoulders.

“What happened? Where are we?” Izumi began asking. She burrowed into the blanket that the older teen had draped across her shoulders as she shuffled around until they were sitting thigh to thigh. Clearly, the boundaries that Hitomi had so strictly enforced since their first meeting was a bit blurred, furthered only by the teen’s severe concussion.

She knew that they were aboveground in a completely different location. From the lamps outside, the shadows emphasized the heavily forested area with unfamiliar trees surrounding the building. Shoji doors were letting in a soft light from the full moon, the paper-thin doors bringing in the dim lights from the lit lanterns in the building. While not all, some of the shoji doors and the heavier fusuma doors were slid open in the hallway, allowing the gentle spring breeze to circulate throughout the room. It was a sensation that none of the children had felt on their skin in months; it was a stark contrast to the constant damp cold, to the fear that had drowned out any other feeling and emotion in those dungeons.

“I’m”––Hitomi pressed both hands over her eyes with a wince––“I’m not entirely sure. The kidnappers, they knocked me out after they, well…after everything that happened. When I woke up afterward, I was really out of it.” Her hands finally fell into her lap, allowing Izumi to take a closer look at her.

Despite being saved, the bags underneath Hitomi’s eyes were ridiculously dark, a dullness to the familiar brown that Izumi couldn’t help but blame herself for. In the darkness of their cell, she hadn’t been able to notice, but now in better lighting, the teen looked…frail. Not a word she ever wanted to associate with someone she cared so deeply for. She was rail thin, any and all extra weight Hitomi had prior to their kidnapping gone, malnutrition sapping all of her energy – which made her attack on the guards even more impressive.

But when Hitomi shifted where she sat, the moonlight was suddenly shining on the young teen. All at once, Izumi’s world came to a halt, a momentary pause in time. Looking at her, even wrapped with bandages and a malnourished frame, she came to the stark realization that she wanted to be Hitomi when she grew up. She wanted to be just as strong, just as determined – a fearless warrior who knew when to be kind and gentle, but strong and scary when the time called for. It was obvious that the young teen had tried to shoulder the weight of their world alone, tried her best to keep everyone in their cell as safe as she possibly could – and she continued to carry that burden even now, refusing to shed the heavy weight of responsibility.

It was clearly exhausting her.

“–Izu-chan?” The older teen had a brow quirked and Izumi turned bright red, caught by her blatant staring. “Are you feeling alright?”

Embarrassed, she quickly looked away, mumbling a quiet yes. “I’m fine.” She had to refocus herself to actually listen to the teen. “What were you saying?”

Hitomi’s eyes narrowed but after a moment, she started speaking again. “When I woke up, my head was in Tobi’s lap, believe it or not.”

Izumi’s brows shot up. She’d only had a few stifled conversations with the older Senju boy while imprisoned together but knew him to be quite reserved, had kept to himself mostly, not even really speaking with the other Uzumaki children they had been with.

“...Tobi’s lap? Not Kazuyo or Yuji?”

“No.” With a snort, Hitomi said, “The kid was crying.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. Well, to give him credit, everyone was. They all thought–” There was a distant look in Hitomi’s eyes as she stared at nothing, blankly watching some of the trees outside as leaves rustled in the wind as she recalled the other night. Whether she knew she was picking at her cuticles enough to bleed, Izumi wasn’t sure. “I thought I was going to die. There was…a lot of blood.”

“What happened then?”

“I was told that about a day later the compound was attacked by a combined force of Senju and Uzumaki shinobi. They found me delirious–”

“Delirious?” Izumi frowned. “What’s that mean?”

There was a strange look as Hitomi finally turned back to her, brows furrowed. “Oh, you don’t…?” She shook her head. “It means I was dizzy, confused.” Izumi simply pursed her lips, storing the information of the new word in her mind. “I wasn’t doing good but they quickly found us all, and brought us somewhere. I’m not sure where Tobi and his little group went. We were separated quickly once they figured out who we were.”

Izumi threw her head around, realizing that she had completely forgotten about her fellow cellmates. “Wait, where’s Kazuyo? And Yuji? What about–”

Hitomi made some sort of flapping motion behind her. “They’re behind us.” Izumi quickly whirled around where she quickly noticed her fellow clanmates, both of their brows furrowed but breathing evenly in a deep sleep. When she took a longer look around her, it was a familiar sight, mostly deep black hair and sharp features. Did that mean everyone here was–

“Everyone here is either a Hagoromo or Uchiha,” Hitomi answered her unspoken question. “We’re kept separate from the other clans.” With a shrug, she added, “I’d like to think that they’re doing this to all clans that aren’t aligned with the Senju.”

“But…” Izumi’s brows furrowed and she looked at the several open shoji doors around her. There were no guards and with the open doors, it was an obvious sign that they could escape at any time. She recalled the horror stories of the Senju and while there had been the strange alliance with Tobi and the Uzumaki due to their circumstances, if they were truly in a Senju compound wouldn’t that mean they were in danger? “If we were taken by the Senju, why are we here? Why aren’t we in those cells again? Shouldn’t we be–”

“Imprisoned?” Hitomi bitterly laughed. “Don’t worry. Turns out there’s a fairly decent sealing barrier around us, locking us in the room. Only Senju access.”

The relief that Izumi had felt earlier quickly dissipated, replaced once again by a heavy weight of anxiety and panic in her chest at the realization of being trapped once more. Whatever warmth she had gained from falsely believing they had escaped was replaced by that familiar cold, eerily reminiscent of the damp cells of the underground.

They were trapped.

How stupid of her to think they were free.

“Oh.” Her head fell forward. “Are they even going to let us go?”

There was a weariness that Hitomi suddenly exuded, her shoulders suddenly falling. “I–” She only took a deep breath, clearly trying to find some way to break the news that Izumi already knew the unfortunate answer to. “No, I don’t think so, not without something in return.”

“So we’re prisoners again.”

Hitomi stared at her, eyes flickering between emotions before they finally settled on resignation. “It’s a nicer cell…but a cell nonetheless.”

Crestfallen, Izumi squeezed her eyes shut. Exhaustion had her crawling off of the futon, as if running away from the news would make it hurt any less. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a jug of water on the small table between each bed and suddenly remembering just how parched she was, she shuffled forward. She filled up an empty glass cup with as much water as possible, practically inhaling cup after cup, only stopping when Hitomi pulled the water away from her.

“Careful, you’ll puke it up.”

Izumi wanted to protest but her body was heavy again, tired from, well, everything. She thought for a brief moment in time, she had been free. That she’d see her family again and that everything would be right with the world.

How stupid.

Somewhat numb, she let Hitomi lead her back to the futon, her thoughts quiet as she laid back down.

“I’m sorry,” the teen whispered to her.

She didn’t want to think about anything so she shook her head, turning her back to Hitomi. She didn’t want her to see the tears threatening to overflow from her eyes, knew that the teen didn’t need to feel even more guilty for their circumstances.

Trying her best to keep her voice from shaking, she mumbled, “it’s not your fault, Nee-san.”

She squeezed her eyes as the teen settled the blanket over her shoulders, allowing her to huddle beneath it. She began to repeat three things over and over again in an attempt to stop crying, not wanting to worry Hitomi.

It was warm.

Everyone was okay.

She was safe.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

But as she finally fell asleep, Izumi knew she was only lying to herself.

0O0

A few days later, Izumi found herself with a quirked head, staring at the opened door, two people standing warily by it.

“Tobi?”

The familiar face stood by the entrance to the room, an obvious look of unease he wasn’t able to hide in time. While he was clean from the layer of grime that had coated them all, the grossness washed away to reveal soft white hair that Hitomi found a hard time believing was his real hair, he was still obviously too thin, an unhealthy paleness to his skin that spoke of malnutrition like the rest of them.

On the other hand, standing beside him was an unfamiliar boy with an ugly bowl cut who fared much better, with full cheeks and a healthy glow to his complexion that made it all too obvious that he hadn’t been held prisoner. He was older too and if Izumi had to guess, he was probably around Madara’s age.

“Hitomi-san,” Tobi mumbled, shoulders slightly falling in relief. “I’m glad to see you’re healing well.”

The older teen simply raised a brow, crossing her arms as she walked over to the door, right up to the edge of the barrier.

“I’m as okay as I’ll ever be as your prisoner now.”

“This is as much a protection for you as it is for us. No one can cross the barrier unless written otherwise–”

Eyes narrowed, Hitomi sneered. “Don’t bother lying. We both know that everyone in this room is being held as a bargaining chip with the Uchiha – so what’s it for? More land? Prisoner exchanges?” Tobi flinched at the intensity of her words, unable to hide the hurt on his face. It was only then that the boy beside him took a protective step forward, a hand gently pushing Tobi back.

“That’s enough of that, don’t you think?” the new boy interjected. “We’re all friends here.”

The silence that came from that sentence took every aback. Hitomi’s eyes widened, the skin of her hands slowly tightening over her knuckles. Her neck began to grow red, the splotchy color creeping upward until she was trembling in anger.

“Friends?” she snarled and even Izumi was taken aback by the venom dripping from the word. "How dare you.”

To bring attention to the Uchiha's current predicament, she slammed a fist against the open air directly to the side of where the boy stood. The barrier was typically unnoticeable to the naked eye so it was strange, seeing nothing until a strange rippling effect suddenly appeared the moment her fist made contact with the invisible wall.

Izumi had to give the older boy credit – where Tobi had flinched from the sudden act, the older boy simply stared back at Hitomi, a strange fire in his eyes.

“My anger will be enough when I’m surrounded by what’s familiar and free,” Hitomi hissed, lowering her face as close as possible. “Enough is when we’re finally home with our loved ones, safe. Enough is when I have these damn chakra-blocking shackles off my feet. While you Senju and Uzumaki might be warm and cozy and full in your homes now that you’re with your beloved parents and guardians, we Uchiha are still stuck in unfamiliar lands, separated from anything resembling our home. So no, I don’t think it’s enough.”

The older boy blinked before looking past her, to all the eyes that were watching their interaction. Hitomi wasn’t bothering to keep her voice down, rather raising it the longer she spoke. Every decision and interaction with the Senju shinobi thus far had been delegated to her, the oldest amongst the children – but even so, Hitomi was only fifteen. There was only so much she could front before the pressure would become too much.

“My apologies. I just…“ he paused, slightly adjusting his head to look back at Tobi, all of his sharp edges suddenly softening. “Tobi’s my little brother. He told me about how you protected him despite our shared history.”

Hitomi stared for a few seconds before she huffed, releasing some tension as she took a step back, arms falling to her side. “We’re all children, some obviously younger than others. I’m not so cruel that my hatred blinds common sense.” She stared at them for a moment before suddenly turning her back to them, but not before taking one last look at the boys. “Don’t bother us again unless you come with news regarding our release.”

“Hitomi-san, wait–”

She ignored them and continued walking back to her futon. The rest of the Uchiha took that as their cue to do so as well, disregarding the two Senjus as conversations restarted amongst the children. The older boy looked as though he had more to say but Tobi put a hand on his brother’s arm, mumbling something too softly for anyone to hear. Eventually, he gave up. The next thing anyone knew, they were gone.

Izumi remained huddled on her futon, blanket wrapped around her shoulder as Hitomi returned to her side.

“How are you feeling?” the older teen asked after a few seconds.

She was tired, a heavy exhaustion weighing her bones down until she wanted to sink into the depths of her futon.

“I’m fine,” she lied instead, “I just want to go home.”

Hitomi was sitting on her haunches, a flash of concern before she quickly covered it up by patting Izumi’s knee. “We’ll be home soon, okay? Try to get some more rest. We all need to get better.”

Having no energy to argue, the little girl did exactly so. The last thing she remembered was the voices of her fellow clanmates, of Hitomi checking in on all the younger children.

For the next few hours, she was out, oblivious to the world in a dreamless sleep. When she was roused from her slumber, it was in the middle of the night, soft snores of her clanmates all around her. Somewhat confused and annoyed at being awoken, she yawned a few times and nearly fell back asleep, but right when she was getting comfortable again, something prompted her to take one last look around the room – and from the corner of her eyes, a flash of white.

Brows furrowed, Izumi blinked furiously, even going so far as to rub her eyes in hopes that she was just seeing things. Tragically, no one else was awake to confirm or deny her sighting. So with a sigh, she slipped out of the warm and addictingly comfortable futon. She took care walking around her fellow sleeping clanmates as several of their arms and legs sprawled outside of their futons, watching where she stepped to avoid hurting escaping limbs. She paused briefly when she finally reached Tobi, sitting with his back turned to her, sandwiched between the older boy from earlier and another child.

Should she call out to him? She still had time to turn back around, to forget ever seeing the Senju boys tonight, but…

“Tobi?” she ended up whispering. The trio whirled around at her voice, Tobi looking alarmed at her sudden appearance – was she being that quiet? “What are you three doing here in the middle of the night? You heard Hitomi-neesan earlier – she’ll be mad if she catches you here.”

Silence was her answer. Frowning, Izumi glanced at the newcomer; there was something familiar about the boy, regardless of the massive scar on his face. She was openly staring far longer than what was deemed socially correct but she could have cared less in the moment, her brain much too tired to even remember her lefts to her rights, let alone proper decorum.

Their younger brother, perhaps?

“My brothers…” She waited a beat for Tobi to continue but he stayed silent, not quite finishing his sentence, opting to look away. So instead, she turned to the older boy from earlier.

“What’s your name?” she practically demanded. “I hate having to call you Older Boy in my mind.”

Said boy flushed before looking at his companions, a silent conversation occurring between the three with raised brows or narrowed eyes. Seconds of awkward silence passed before he turned back to her; there was obvious hesitation before she was finally given an answer.

“Hashi. You can call me Hashi.”

“Bridge?” she deadpanned. “I doubt your parents actually named you that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, just for you – Hashira. Hashi is a nickname of sorts.”

After thinking it over for a second, she shrugged. Truth be told, his name wouldn’t really matter in the long run – she’d most likely forget it as soon as she was able to go home. “Yeah, okay.” A strange name for a strange boy – it was obviously a lie. But who was she to judge? She had been living under a different name for the last few months for survival's sake, after all.

“...Spirited, aren’t you?”

“And what of it?” she grumbled, “I’m tired, I’m sad, I’m scared. The world won’t end because of it.”

He looked uncomfortable at the thought that she was scared. “For what it’s worth, no one will hurt you here,” he tried saying in an attempt to comfort her.

“Yet.”

“...What?”

“Yet.” She looked down at the floor, digging into the tatami with her foot. “No one has hurt me – us – yet.”

She was taken aback at how quick Hashira was to anger. Her eyes widened at what he took as an insult from her words, from the intensity of his outrage that she would even consider the idea that the Senju would do something of the sort.

“We would never–”

She quickly shook her head, trying her best to placate the boy’s growing voice. “I-It’s fine, Hashira-kun, I didn’t mean to make you mad.” She attempted a smile but she knew that it was more of a grimace than anything judging by the wince Tobi gave her in response. “Besides, it’s not your fault; it’s the adults that keep us in the room after all, with the barrier stopping us from leaving.”

She couldn’t help but look down at the metal shackle locked around her ankle, ignoring how the Senju trio followed her gaze down as well. It went unspoken but weighted heavily on everyone's mind – and when she couldn’t help but move her stare to Tobi’s bare ankle, a faint mark that had been clearly healed with great care around his foot, the mood grew even more somber.

“...I’m sorry,” Tobi mumbled when he caught her looking.

“It’s not your fault either.” She quirked her head at that, choosing to look away and watch Hashira, the older boy staring openly back at her. “There seem to be lots of sorry’s lately, don’t you think?” she said in response. “It won’t mean anything if you don’t really mean it.”

Silence permeated the air between the four, the youngest choosing to stay silent. In the awkwardness, her chest began to ache, a pang in her heart as she saw Tobi with his siblings, safely back in the arms of his brothers. That’s what she wanted. Hadn’t she suffered enough? Why couldn’t she be back home with Madara and Arata, with her twin brother – or even with Katsumi? These past few months had given her too much time to dwell on what had happened, recalling in perfect clarity the moment she last saw her older brother.

Oh, Katsumi.

Tears pricked her eyes. She failed to hide them from the boys as she rubbed her cheeks with her palm, palm side up.

“What’s wrong?” Hashira asked, concern lacing his question. The way he said it, the way it was laced with so much concern – it was too familiar, her heart shattering into even smaller pieces into the chasm of her chest. “Are you–”

“It’s not fair,” she whispered, “it’s not.” She should have felt guilty for the jealousy that was rearing its ugly head – but she just could not care. “It’s just not fair.”

“I–”

“Despite everything we had to do, had to see, you get to be with your brothers, Tobi.” She now pressed her hands against her eyes, trying desperately to hold her cries in fear of waking Hitomi who would storm over and yell at them all. “A-And I’m happy that you get to be with them but I just want to go home. I want to see my”––her voice broke as she recalled her siblings––“I just want to see my own brothers.”

Hashira looked stricken at her words. That was ridiculous; did he think that the Uchiha here had no family? That they were all, what, orphans? Or that they were all so cold-blooded that family wasn’t a concern?

If she weren’t so sad she would’ve been angrier.

She had family who loved her, even if they were bad at showing it.

“...Did you know that Hitomi-neesan has a younger brother she misses? I think that’s why she’s so protective of us,” she began, voice somewhat nasally due to her tears. “A-And Kazuyo-chan has a mom she isn’t sure is alive anymore, which means she has no one left. Yuji-kun’s grandmother was with him the day we were all taken. He refuses to talk about what happened, you know? And then I have four”––she froze, the pain from her heart reminding her that, no, she would never have four brothers again because she only had three, because Katsumi was dead––“three brothers. I have three brothers.” She knew the boys all caught her hiccup, the pause as she had to remind herself not to burst out into even louder sobs. It was embarrassing enough that she was even crying, no matter how quietly, in front of them. “I know they miss me, just like I know that my father, who isn’t always home, does too. I miss them so much. I just want to be with my own brothers.”

Hashira looked as though he was about to vomit and Tobirama looked as though he was going to faint. It would serve them right, she thought darkly, before mentally reprimanding herself. No, she shouldn’t stoop to such low levels just because she was jealous.

“I’ll fix this.”

“How?” Izumi would’ve scoffed if she had the energy. “You’re like, ten. I hate to break it to you but we’re all just kids. There’s nothing anyone can do.” She sniffed. “A lesson I had to learn a lot with my own brothers.”

Hashira stood there awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to smile. It was so fake that it was sort of funny, simply because the situation they were in was so ridiculous.

Him? Break them out?

“You’re a little sister, aren’t you?” Hashira said quietly and she almost didn’t hear him. The sudden change in topic gave her whiplash, her head shooting up in confusion.

For a moment, she was going to simply nod like always, but her thoughts jumped to Izuna. While yes, she was a little sister, she was also his older sister by around half an hour. It was a secret the head family kept to themselves – other than those annoying Elders – and so most of the Uchiha didn’t know that she was the older half. Sure, half an hour wasn’t much, but it still mattered right?

But like most things, she was told to keep her mouth shut and never mention it to anyone.

These Senju had no idea who she was or her status in the clan. They’d never know. She’d never meet them again once she left because chances were, they’d become some nameless shinobi in the war and probably die before thirty. They were a bunch of nobodies. So what, then, if she told them the truth? She wanted to say it out loud at least once in her life. If would be to a bunch of strangers, then so be it.

“I’m also an older sister, thank you very much.” She turned her nose at that, huffing as well. It felt…nice. A temporary weight lifted off her chest and while the guilt of revealing a family secret lingered, the sudden rush of satisfaction was near overwhelming.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

At that, she couldn’t help but sneer, to which Hashira raised his hands in surrender. Tobi just smirked from behind him while the third, younger boy yawned.

“Whatever. I’m tired so I’m going back to sleep. You should listen to Hitomi-neesan – if you don’t have any news then you shouldn’t return.” With a very lackluster bow, she also yawned, turned around, and walked away. “Good night.”

As she walked away, she heard the youngest boy speak for the first time, but he had mumbled so quietly that she only heard the tail end of the question. “–who you are, does she?”

But Izumi didn’t care what they were talking about.

She just…couldn’t.

So she quietly crawled back into her bed, double-checking to make sure that Hitomi was still asleep, and closed her eyes, counting numbers just like Katsumi had taught her to do until she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

A few weeks following that night would pass in silence, only the occasional Senju shinobi coming to check in on the children and their injuries.

On one random evening, however, unable to do anything due to the heavy rains drowning the world around them, Izumi found herself playing rock, paper, scissors with Kazuyo. They would find themselves giggling every time there was a draw, making some ridiculous faces every few seconds with Yuji watching. There was still an emptiness in his eyes that made the girls uncomfortable but there wasn’t much else they could do, having tried to get him to join whatever game they would be playing. He would quietly refuse every time, shaking his head and choosing to watch \with that eerie blank stare of his instead. Rinse and repeat. When they brought it up to Hitomi, the teen told them that every person reacted differently to what they experienced and that they should be nice to him, that he was hurting just like they were.

“Psst.”

Izumi and Kazuyo’s fists stopped midair.

“Izu-chan, psst.”

The three of them whirled to the screen door closest to them. If Izumi squinted her eyes, she could make out a shadow of a person behind the thin shoji screens. She raised a brow at her friend, who just shrugged her shoulders as they came to a silent decision a few seconds later. As usual, Yuji contributed nothing, just watching them with Izumi unable to figure out what he was thinking.

She looked around, grateful that Hitomi was away with a few of the other children to the bathhouses that the Senju allocated for them, leaving only a sparse few in the room with minimal security. Quietly walking over, she slid open the shoji doors until she was standing face-to-face with Tobi and Hashira on the edge of the barrier.

“What do you want?” she demanded, already knowing who’d be behind the paper sliding doors. Other than Hashi and Tobi, there was no one else dumb enough to enter the building without permission, not if they didn’t have a death wish.

“Well, hello to you too,” Hashira grumbled. “I could get in a lot of trouble if I’m found talking to you, you know?”

“And that concerns us why?” Kazuyo grumbled behind Izumi. “It’s your lot that’s keeping us here.” Hashira’s shoulders fell at the words as he avoided their accusatory looks, leaving Tobi the only one looking at them.

“She’s not wrong, is she?” Izumi sneered. “We’d be home by now if it wasn’t for you guys.”

There was a fire in his red eyes at her words. She quickly found that she didn’t like that and she narrowed her own in return, entering into a strange stare-off with the boy. There were a few moments of silence until Hashira coughed, breaking the tension.

“That’s actually why I’m here.” He shot his younger brother a look – a familiar one that Izumi had been on the receiving end of by her own brothers – before turning back to them. “So where is that one older Uchiha–”

“Her name is Hitomi–”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. “ Hashira waved his hand. “Anyways, where is she? I think I should go over the plan to get you guys out with her.”

Izumi looked at Kazuyo, who looked back at her, and the two girls then looked at Yuji behind them, who had perked up at the prospect of a plan. It was the first time Izumi noticed the young boy being interested in anything since their rescue.

“You’re kidding, right?” Kazuyo barked out a laugh. “There’s no way–”

Hashira rolled his eyes. “I know what–”

“How the hell are you going to find a way to escape with ten-plus people? That’s just not possible–”

“It’s okay, I have a plan.”

For once, Izumi shot an exacerbated look to Tobi. He had to be a voice of reason between the two. “Tobi-kun, please tell me this is some joke.”

But the boy only looked resigned. “Believe me, I’ve tried to talk him out of it but my brother won’t change his mind.”

“No.” Izumi shook her head. “No.”

“Trust me, Izu-chan, I’ve got a great idea!”

“Why don’t you tell us then so we can be the judge of that.”

“Because you’re like, five–”

“Excuse you, I’m seven–”

“And because you’re seven, you’re not old enough to make or come up with any plan.” He puffed out his chest, a proud look on his face. “I, on the other hand, know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah and how old are you?”

He quirked a brow. “I’m twelve.”

Damn.

Pouting, she turned back to the white-haired boy, who only had the foresight to grimace at his brother’s antics.

“You’re really confident, aren’t you?” Kazuyo suddenly interrupted. “...I like that. Maybe he is onto something, Izumi.”

For once, the grin on the older boy’s face seemed genuine. His cheeks turned slightly pink at the praise as he sat down, crossing his legs while patting the floor. “Sit, sit! We can play a game while we wait for Hitomi-san to come back from wherever she went.”

Izumi narrowed her eyes but listened, following him to the floor, the barrier invisible between them but still there as she huffed in annoyance. “Don’t be stupid – we all know that if she isn’t here, she’s at the bathhouse with the younger kids.” There was nowhere else. Sometimes, the nicer guards took pity on them, letting them out of the room to a fairly large enclosed garden connected to the building. If the height of the walls hadn’t been enough of a deterrent, then the fear of the unknown lands surrounding them was enough to stop anyone from running away; no one was stupid enough to try and escape, not when they were at the mercy of the Senju shinobi and mostly under the age of ten.

Hashira shrugged and after some brief arguments, they settled on the simple rock, paper, scissors game Izumi and Kazuyo had been playing earlier that kept them quite distracted for the next half hour until Hitomi returned, children in tow.

The older girl was taken aback at the sight before her, eyes narrowed into slits. She stormed over, anger behind every heavy step, Izumi and Kazuyo scrambling to their feet in an attempt to escape her wrath. Hashira, on the other hand, took his time standing up, clearly having nowhere else to be.

“What are you doing back here? I told you–”

Kazuyo grabbed the older teen’s hand. “He says he’s got a plan to break us out.”

It seemed that Izumi wasn’t the only one who found it funny as Hitomi also let out a sharp laugh. “You and what army? The rest of the Senju? Please–”

“My”––Tobi suddenly shoved Hashira’s shoulder––“uh, our Clan Head is currently in talks with the Iburi to return their children. Most of our shinobi will be traveling next month to a select spot to overlook the transfer once the date is finalized.” Hashira’s back remained straight and Izumi was taken aback at how the sight was so familiar, she couldn’t figure out why until she realized that Hashira reminded her of Madara.

With a blink, Hashira was no longer standing before her. Instead, Madara towered over her with a familiar posture that spoke of importance, about to speak with that tone in his voice that mimicked their father, holding himself in a manner similar to Tajima himself despite his young age. Madara was always trying his best to impress people and as the next Clan Head, her eldest brother wanted to show that he was reliable to all.

“When the time comes, it’ll leave the grounds with a skeleton crew since most of the shinobi will travel with him.” Hashira spoke and the illusion shattered; the young Senju stood before her again. When he shrugged, he finally broke the last remnants of Madara’s eerily familiar posture. “Simple.”

“Simple, the kid says,” Hitomi grumbled. “Sure, it sounds simple. Are you forgetting about the barrier seal placed on the room? The chakra blockers on our ankles? And how certain is this information? I’m just to trust that your intel’s correct?”

“That’s where Tobi and I will come in! We’ll break the seal.” The Senju boy seemed a little too enthusiastic at the prospect of breaking the seal. “And the information’s solid, I promise. You’ll just have to trust me on that.”

Hitomi raised a brow, crossing her arms. “Trust you?” She rolled her eyes. “What about the shackles?”

At that, Hashira’s resolve wavered the slightest bit, his smile growing more forced. “There is a key. I just need a promise from you before we do it.”

“...What?”

Hashira looked at Tobi beside him before making up his mind. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it off. It’s just…a matter of your Sharingan that worries us.” Brows furrowed. “You do have one, right?”

Hitomi burst out laughing. “Me?’ She waved a hand nonchalantly in the air. “Kid, don’t make me laugh. I don’t have one,” she lied effortlessly. Although curious, Izumi and Kazuyo stayed silent, keeping their faces neutral at Hitomi’s lie.

“...Oh.” Hashira’s shoulders lowered the slightest amount, the relief obvious in the lines of his body. “Okay. That’s good, then.” A pause. “Is it because you’re a girl?” he suddenly blurted out. Hitomi blinked, Izumi blinked, and Kazuyo blinked. The three girls openly stared at Hashira, his face rivaling that of a tomato with how red it was growing with each passing second. “T-That’s what I’ve heard our shinobi say, is all! H-How there aren’t…Wait, I don’t mean”—he groaned as Tobi just stood behind him, clearly uncomfortable—“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Hashira-kun.” Hitomi lowered her arms. “Do you really think I’m going to reveal any secrets regarding our Sharingan to you? Outsider aside, you’re a Senju.” Her gaze hardened. “We aren’t friends. If anything, we’re temporary allies at best.”

A mask slid over Hashira’s face as he forced himself to start laughing, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events. “You’re totally right, Hitomi-san! My bad.”

“...It’s fine.” Hitomi looked at Tobi. “Are you two sure about this? You’re going to be in an awful lot of trouble with your clan if they find out that you helped us.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve thought about that.” Hashira pulled out two scrolls, returning back to his somewhat serious self. “This one will give you directions on how to escape the compound without being seen. We can only be here to break the seal on the barrier and hand you the keys to getting your shackles off. We won’t leave the building, not with you.” He looked at Tobi, apologetic. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t involve my little brother in this mess at all, but he’s stubborn. He refuses to leave me alone.”

Kazuyo snorted, picking at her cuticles as Yuji had unknowingly moved closer to them. It was the most any of them had seen the boy interact with anything after their rescue. “So…what, you had a change of heart?” Kazuyo asked.

The tension in the air suddenly sobered. Izumi felt as though they were stepping into unknown territory because it was strange, even she could easily admit, that a Senju would go to such measures to help them escape. A joke, maybe? But if so, she didn’t think Tobi would look as serious as he did.

“...You saved my brother.” Hashira looked down. “You protected him when I wasn’t there, when you didn’t have to.”

“Again, we already had this conversation–”

“And I hate the fighting. You’re right, it isn’t fair that you or the Iburi, or any of the other clan children, are kept away from their homes and families. It’s one thing if shinobis were being kept as prisoners but we’re all children, aren’t we? You should all be at home with your families.” Hashira scratched at his arm. “A secret for you that you can choose to disregard or not – but I’m tired of war. I hate it, in fact. There’s just so much death and destruction.”

“Anija–” Tobi began but was silenced by a hand.

“Tobi, I know.” But as he looked at Hitomi there was a determination in the crease of his brows. “But how will I get Hitomi-san to believe me otherwise?”

Silence rang as they all tried to digest what the Senju was saying.

For all of the children in the room, war was the constant in their lives – after all, they were all been born into the bloodshed that marred nearly every household. There was no single Uchiha who hadn’t lost someone they knew in this eternal war. To think of a life outside of one was nigh impossible. Even little Izumi, who aspired to be a kunoichi like Hitomi and watched her brothers train to become strong warriors for her clan, was aware of everything going on around her. To live a life in peace was but a dream – a fool’s dream, perhaps, but a dream nonetheless.

Yes, the adults all around them would have them believe that the war against the Senju and those who opposed the Uchiha was endless – and Izumi believed them. Why wouldn’t she? She was raised in a shinobi household, her father the leader of the Uchiha.

That was her reality – their reality.

“That’s…really naive, Senju.” Brows furrowed, Hitomi stared at the boy. “Those words are borderline treasonous, you do know that right?”

The brightness in Hashira’s eyes dimmed the slightest but he covered it up with a shrug and a blatantly fake smile. “Of course I know that.”

Hitomi openly stared at him for a few more seconds, thoughts undistinguishable, before sighing. All at once, the tension bled out from her body as she slightly slouched forward. “I…” Scrunching her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Let’s say I entertain this…plan–”

Hashira lit up immediately at those words. “Yes! I told you it would work, Tobi!”

“Hold on–”

Hashira pulled out sheets of paper and a brush with a strange inscription on its side. Even without her sharingan, Hitomi could tell that he was channeling chakra into the brush, the tiny kanji characters beginning to glow as the brush tip turned black with ink. When she squinted, she could make out the character for ink when she realized he was holding a portable brush that didn’t require an ink stick. An interesting and convenient invention, but not shocking due to their proximity to the Uzumaki clans.

Tobi caught them all openly staring at the brush, not listening to Hashira. “Is something the matter, Hitomi-san?” he asked.

The teen was startled out of her thoughts. “No. I’ve just never seen a brush like that is all.”

Hashira perked at her words. “It’s a fairly recent invention from the Uzumaki clan. Apparently getting the ink to stay within the brush itself but not bleed out through the fibers was extremely difficult and even with the sealing, they had to be careful to–”

“I’m sure she doesn’t care to hear about the creation of a brush, anija.”

“Oops.” Hashira chuckled and Tobi grimaced. “Sorry. Anyways, I’ll write some things down and you can tell me what you’ll need…”

While the two began to discuss a plan, Izumi stood between Hitomi and Kazuyo. She let her mind wander, drifting from one thought to another as she realized that they really did have a chance of going home. She’d see everyone again, her brothers, her father, and even Harumi.

Despite her newfound hope, which filled her mind with thoughts of a reunion, it all came crashing down in a matter of seconds. There was a flash of red from the corner of her eye, she whirled around, heart pounding in her ears as her body went cold. Red hair–

“Izu-chan?”

She blinked.

Not hair.

A red curtain was swaying in the entrance.

Just a curtain.

Not–

Of course it wouldn’t be Haru.

Haru was dead.

“...S-Sorry.” She slowly turned back around and saw everyone looking at her. At that, Izumi grimaced a took a step back. “I think I’m going to go lie down.” For a moment, it looked as though Hitomi wanted to reach out to her but her hand remained still. “I’m not feeling well.”

It didn’t go unnoticed.

Hashira kept looking between the older teen and Izumi, brows furrowed in confusion at the young girl’s crestfallen face and Hitomi’s refusal to comfort her. He had been under the assumption that Hitomi was an older sister figure for the kids, had noticed from his spying the teen’s ability to quickly comfort someone in distress. She was scarily good at it. But when it came to Izumi…there was definitely a wall between them, a secret he wasn’t privy to that was holding her back.

Hitomi didn’t notice the strange look Hashira was giving them, her back turned to the boy as she opted to watch Izumi for a few more seconds, thoughts undistinguishable to the young girl. After coming to some sort of decision, Hitomi finally turned back around, to which Hashira quickly wiped all emotion from his face.

Izumi, on the other hand, felt…disappointed, but also relieved. A part of her wanted Hitomi to reach out, to ask her what was wrong – and for a moment, she had thought the teen was going to do exactly so. But Hitomi hadn’t and Izumi was glad because the louder voice in her told her that they’d think she was crazy.

After their emotional reunion a few weeks back, the teen had returned to maintaining a strict boundary of proper rules and decorum that spoke of Izumi’s true status in the Uchiha clan. Not that Hashra and Tobi knew who she was, of course, but the change was enough for Izumi to notice. The rest of her clanmates trapped here followed suit, treating her differently as well. Only Kazuyo, really, was willing to be close to her, to talk to her and to joke around with her.

“Okay, Izu-chan. I’ll be here with the Senju boys trying to figure something out, okay? If you need anything, let me know.”

Izumi nodded her head before giving everyone a quick bow goodbye, her body ansty with the desire to run away – so run away she did, to the covers of her blanket to hide from the rest of the world – to the disappointment and relief colliding into a messy mixture in her chest. The entire time as she laid back down she was trying her best not to panic, her thoughts refusing to forget the boy she had been with for just a day but had left his mark on her.

As the blankets covered her head, as she huddled beneath the lightweight down, she wondered…she wondered what Haru’s parents knew what had truly happened, if he had any siblings like she did, if his family knew he had died alone in his cell with only an Uchiha for company.

A while later, there were light footsteps and a thud beside her, startling her out of her weird daze. Minutes or hours could’ve passed and she would have been none the wiser. In response, she huddled even more into herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” Kazuyo quietly asked, her familiar voice muffled. “Do you need anything?”

Yes, she needed Izuna, she answered inwardly. She wanted her father, she wanted to feel safe, and like always, she wanted to be home.

But of course, she said none of that. “...Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired,” she easily lied. She was getting scarily good at it as of late, she realized.

Kazuyo’s shadow nodded. “Me too.” She shuffled around on top of the futon, Izumi still beneath the blanket, but now her friend sat with her back leaning heavily against hers. “I think we’ll be fine. Hashira-kun and Nee-san will come up with a good plan.”

The hope in Kazuyo’s voice helped push back against the fears that threatened to overwhelm her. Kazuyo was right. The two older kids were doing…something, figuring out what to do for them to escape. While most of it was going to be nonsense to her, the words they were most likely saying about chakra far too advanced for her to have followed along with, Izumi knew that Hitomi would do her best to see the plan through.

“I want to go home too, Izu-chan,” Kazuyo whispered.

There was another set of footsteps until suddenly, another body was sitting in front of Izumi. Curiosity sprung to life in Izumi’s mind, unsure of who it could be as no one talked to her other than Kazuyo.

“Yuji-kun?”

Ah, that answered that question, then.

“Izu-chan, Kazuyo-chan.” Her curiosity won and she couldn’t help but pop her head out of her makeshift barrier to the world, confused. Did something happen? Why was Yuji here? “I would also like to go home,” he bluntly stated. Both girls slowly nodded in confusion.

“Is everything alright?” she decided to ask quietly. The boy looked the most alive he had in months, a shine to his eyes that she was relieved to see but now was strangely afraid of. It was so…unlike the Yuji she had gotten used to these past few months.

“Would…” He looked at his hands, going through the motions of clenching and unclenching his fists. “Would you like to play rock paper scissors?” he suddenly blurted out.

While both girls were taken aback, Kazuyo’s immediate response was to burst out laughing. Izumi had discovered since their rescue that the poor girl had the misfortune of laughing at very inopportune times, particularly when she was uncomfortable or shocked. It was apparently out of her control – which Izumi definitely doubted, but who was she to judge?

Without hesitation, Izumi quickly shot up from her futon and accepted Yuji’s offer – it was his version of an olive branch, his attempt at bridging the gap between the three of them. “Yes!” she said, grabbing Kazuyo’s arm a little too tightly. “We’ll both play with you!”

So with Hitomi in the background with the two unknown Senju boys planning their desperate escape, the trio began their game, playing on well into the evening, quiet giggles eventually dissolving into loud boisterous laughter as it soon dragged the other Uchiha children into it.

It was a simple game but sometimes, simple was enough.

0O0

To successfully execute their escape took most of the month to plan.

By mid-July, the infamous Fire Country summer had arrived in full force, pushing aside the damp rainy season into a disgusting mixture of humidity and oppressing heat. Even the Senju, for all their concerns surrounding a mass Uchiha escape, had grown lax in the high temperatures, allowing the children more time outside of their cozy cells.

“For the last time, Izu-chan, stop calling the room a cell,” Kazuyo hissed beside her as they laid on the cool grass. They were still in an enclosed courtyard but different from the previous areas, the nicer guards taking them to one a fairly large pond. The Senju had designated it an area for the children to cool down from the oppressive heat, not so cruel as their previous captors to drown them in their own sweat.

“Why? Just because we have a bed and fancy paintings doesn’t mean it’s not a cell,” Izumi grumbled, “Besides, Nee-san says it all the time.”

“Well first off, you’re not Hitomi-neesan, and second, it makes everyone sad, you idiot.”

Izumi huffed, kept her eyes closed, and tried her best to become one with the earth. “But it’s true.”

“Ugh.”

As the two girls baked in the sun, exhausted from a calm but fun day, the laughter and childish screams from their fellow clanmates settled over them. Izumi knew a few Senju guards were standing in the distance, keeping watch to ensure no one tried to run away, but after being trapped in the compound for the last few months with no incidents, most had loosened their stranglehold on them.

While there were still a handful of the stricter Senjus who maintained a cutthroat schedule and boundary with them, today’s guards were some of the better ones, frequently bringing along toys and treats for them. They were currently sitting on the porch, entertaining some of the others with outlandish stories that Izumi could hear from where she lay. While Hitomi always stayed silent in her ever-constant brooding, unwilling to trust the Senju’s motives, she couldn’t stop the begging from some of the younger kids, unable to deny them a sliver of happiness in an otherwise grim environment.

By the time they all returned to their rooms for dinner, the sun had lowered considerably. Izumi was yawning due to an eventful day swimming and Hitomi, for all her brooding, looked the most relaxed she had in months. Time here had softened them all. The compound may have been the lesser of two evils but they all no longer worried about being taken from one another, fully aware that they would never be experimented on as their kidnappers had done to them.

But like all good things, Izumi should’ve known that a nice day could never stay as is, that something was bound to ruin it – because chaos and terror came barging into their room in the form of a familiar bowl-cut boy and his white-haired brother, stopped only by the barrier.

“Hitomi-san!” It was obvious Hashira had run over, face bright red as he huffed for air. Tobi stood similarly to him, bent over and breathing heavily, resting his hands on his knees.

“Senju?” Hitomi shot up. “What’s wrong?”

The boy motioned for her. There were hushed whispers amongst the children and even Izumi and Kazuyo were growing anxious with the way Hashira was furiously shaking his head and throwing his hands around.

The world came to a halt when he said something, causing Hitomi to pale. No one noticed Hashira’s eyes roamed the room, stopping only when they settled on Izumi, their gazes momentarily locking onto each other. Hitomi was soon added to the mix, the two of them now looking over at her. Tobi said something, finally breaking the strange stares as Hitomi grew more agitated as the seconds passed.

“What do you think they’re arguing about?” Kazuyo whispered beside her. “It looks intense, don’t you think?”

Izumi felt only dread, unable to forget the way they both had looked at her and no one else in the room. What did that mean? Did…Did the Senju know who she was? Was that why Hitomi had looked so scared? Or was it something to do with…Haru?

“I don’t know,” she answered back as truthfully as she could. “I thought we had another week before we left.”

“Me too.”

A few more seconds of agitated whispering passed until suddenly, Hitomi slammed a hand against the barrier, surprising everyone watching. Tobi had flinched from the motion, similarly to when the young teen had done that the first time months ago, while Hashira remained steadfast, shoulders held back as he stared at Hitomi.

“–tonight.”

Hitomi whirled around, face pale and hands shaking. When she caught everyone watching her, a mask slid over her face as she slipped her hands into her sleeves, hiding them from everyone.

“Is…is everything okay, Nee-san?” someone asked from behind Izumi.

She put on a false smile, good enough to fool the younger children. “Yes, of course. A slight hiccup in plans is all.”

Izumi was watching as Hashira dragged Tobi away. Such a strange interaction – what just happened?

“Everyone,” Hitomi called out minutes later, “we talked about leaving next week, right?” Several heads nodded, everyone’s attention focused now on the teen. “Some things…happened, so we’ll have to leave tonight.” Surprisingly, her words were met with silence. “...Any questions?” she ended up asking, breaking the strange tension in the air.

While some hands were raised and she tried her best to promise safety, Izumi was owlishly blinking, her heart thundering in her ears. Why did Hitomi keep looking at her? What was happening?

She had to be a reason for the sudden plan change…right?

“Something’s wrong,” Kazuyo suddenly said, only loud enough for her to hear. “She wouldn’t look so scared otherwise.”

“I agree.” Yuji suddenly appeared behind them, scaring the two girls. “Why does she keep looking at you, Izu?”

“I don’t know.” So he had noticed the weird looks. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough, yeah?”

Hitomi was clearly stressed. She was gathering the children while keeping an ear out for any guards, wanting to make sure that they weren't caught red-handed in the escape. She showed several of the older kids how to tie a bag with their blankets, creating furoshiki’s for the foods they had stockpiled the past month to prepare while also helping some of the younger children by tying a makeshift bag over their shoulders.

In the blink of an eye, the sun had set and stars were shining high above in the night sky. Several of the kids were yawning, clearly tired from the day’s activities – but they would have to stay awake for the sake of their escape. Izumi overheard some of them talking about how they were excited to go home, how they were tired, blah blah blah.

But she felt…nothing, strangely enough. She looked around the room, some of the futons were without a blanket while others still had theirs folded on top. She had spent the last four months here in a makeshift prison – or a comfortable cell as she told Kazuyo regularly – but in a few hours, she would be back with her own people.

By returning, she would be forced to come to terms with a family that would never be full again. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t be as excited as the others because the prospect of returning to a house without Katsumi was terrifying. But the reality was that he would never return, never help brush her hair or heal her wounds, never count the stars with her. While she heard him every night when she went to bed, his familiar voice telling her to count numbers until she fell asleep, he’d never actually be there for her.

The reality was that it broke her heart to return home because she would have to return to a world she no longer knew how to navigate. She wasn’t the same child she had been before being kidnapped – her childhood was taken from her, forcing her to become aware of the grim realities of the dark side of life.

“Hitomi-san.”

Everyone turned and saw Hashira standing at the entrance, Tobi behind him again. The kid was quiet but determined, in his hands a fairly large drawstring bag. The teen went to the entrance and after a few words, she nodded her head.

The two boys looked at each other and then to something to the side of the entrance. They were writing something on another scroll, whispering between themselves before finally nodding and slapping it against the wall. Then, with a look of concentration, they both placed their hands over it. Closing their eyes, it became obvious they were now attempting to deactivate the barrier on the room. There was no sound, no explosion, nothing that would have indicated otherwise that the seal had finally broken other than the sudden gasping for air that came from the two Senjus as they fell back.

“It’s done,” Hashira mumbled moments later, running a hand through his sweaty bowl cut.

“And our chakra blockers?” Hitomi quickly asked. Hashira pulled out a wooden key, dropping it onto Hitomi’s open palm. She stared at it blankly. “...You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s strong–”

“It’s wood!”

“It’ll be fine!” To prove it to her, he tried several ways to break the key, to snap the wood – but nothing happened. As though it was made out of metal, the wood refused to snap under the weight of his pressure. “See?”

“No?”

Hashira rolled his eyes, dropping it onto her open palm anyway. Hitomi was clearly upset by that, grumbling something under her breath, before her fingers finally enclosed over the key. Izumi assumed she’d take off their shackles then and there, but she was proven wrong when the teen slipped it into the tight layers around the waist of her hakama instead. Everyone looked at her in confusion, also thinking the same thing.

“Aren’t you going to take it off?” a young girl towards the front asked.

Hitomi shook her head. “No. There are too many sensors around tonight. With the shackles still on, they won’t be able to notice us sneaking through the compound.” She placed a hand on the girl’s head. “Don’t worry though, we’ll be fine.”

“This is for you, Hitomi-san.” Hashira took out a bokken, a wooden sword the size of a tanto blade. “For your protection.” And ours was silent but not unnoticed. But Hitomi simply lowered her head in thanks, accepting it from his hands without complaint.

“Is the clan still there?”

Tobi nodded his head. “As far as we know, they’re still in the general vicinity.” He handed her a scrol. She quickly unfurled it, revealing a detailed map with a large red X in what Izumi assumed was in the area. “We don’t know much other than this.”

“We’re really doing this,” she whispered in disbelief. Kazuyo grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight as Hitomi studied the map intensely. “Nee-san really did it.”

“Nothing would’ve happened if it wasn’t for the boys, though,” Kazuyo whispered back. “I just hope they weren’t tricking us.”

The children began to gather more tightly behind Hitomi. They all knew it was time when she rolled the map back up, slipping it into her sleeve. She looked at the boys, an intensity burning in her eyes. “...Thank you, Hashira, Tobi. Thank you for helping us.”

Hashira looked flustered at the thanks and Tobi, the less emotional of the two, nodded his head.

“Just…” Hashira had words he wanted to say but didn’t know how, his mind conflicting with itself. “I hope for peace between us all, one day,” he finally said.

Hitomi tilted her head. “Although a foolish thought…” She shot her hand out. “Maybe one day.” The Senju looked at her hand in shock, hesitating for but a moment before sliding his own into hers, a firm handshake as a goodbye.

Izumi readjusted the makeshift bag around her shoulder when she caught Tobi’s eyes. She stared back at him, her mind going back to the long cold months in the kidnapper's dungeon together. She recalled grabbing his outstretched hand when she had been taken, remembering that feeling; they were never friends and would never be allies but at that moment, there had been a solidarity between them.

She lowered her head in thanks and saw him do the same.

“Alright,” Hitomi muttered, “here goes nothing.”

She took a step out of the door, the first she had made without the escort of a guard in months. A breath escaped her, a small weight lifting off her shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

0O0

Their escape went flawlessly despite the change in plans. While there were close calls, Hitomi had studied the map extensively, knowing exactly where it was they needed to go. It was eerie how easily she could slip into the shadows despite the small child on her back, Izumi observed.

It certainly helped that there was no moon tonight, deepening said shadows.

There were hiccups along the way of course; one of the younger kids tripped and fell, scrapping her knees with a fairly loud cry, but one of the older kids – a Hagoromo who had gone through some partial shinobi training – was quick to scoop her up and distract from the pain.

Even with Yuji at her back and Kazuyo beside her, Izumi’s heart was beating erratically against her chest, her nerves fueling the strange feeling coursing through her. She was antsy, excited, scared – she was all of that and more. She was not the only one. Kazuyo beside her, who gripped her hand tightly with her own, was feeling the nerves of the night. But if everything went smoothly, they would be free and back home, and that was all that mattered.

They soon reached a small opening in the enclosed walls of the compound that Hashira had marked on the map.

“Alright you guys – one by one,” Hitomi whispered by the opening, “Those who can, help the younger kids.”

Izumi soon found herself on the other side of the compound, the large forest she had seen from the room now all around her. It was pitch black, spiking the fear mounting in her chest. For a moment, she found herself standing in the forest by her home, recalling the sheer terror of being kidnapped, of Katsumi’s last stand–

“Izumi?”

A tremble ran through her but she thought nothing of it, turning to Kazuyo standing beside her. “Y-Yeah?”

“The forest…” Kazuyo wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”

Ah.

She understood.

“Yeah,” Izumi said quietly, “it is.”

They quickly turned around, watching as kid after kid crawled through the small hole. Soon, Hitomi was squeezing herself through the opening, the last to come out to the other side. The teen did a quick headcount – all twelve children were accounted for.

She picked up the youngest of the group she had been carrying earlier, a four-year-old boy named Tetsu, and motioned with her hands to follow her.

Thus began the agonizing trek through the unfamiliar forest. The further in they went, the darker it became until Izumi wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone which direction they came from – the compound had long since disappeared in the distance, the light from the lanterns now nonexistent due to the thick trees all around them. Several times through the hike, various kids voiced their complaints and exhaustion but Hitomi simply shook her head, saying something along the lines of being too close to the Senju to stop.

Izumi’s legs were burning after several hours of walking, her toes now scratched bloody from the underbrush of the forest. She wasn’t the only one – Kazuyo was struggling beside her, breathing just as heavily and her feet just as scratched.

“H-Hitomi-neesan,” someone called out, “we’re tired.”

“Y-Yeah!”

“Can we stop?”

“I’m thirsty!”

At the various cries and complaints, Hitomi groaned, coming to a stop. “Alright, alright,” she finally relented after the several complaints coming from everyone. “I guess we can stop for the night.”

She quietly woke Tetsu up, gently lowering him to the ground. She then dropped her stuff onto the ground and several of the kids followed suit, their groans of soreness and exhaustion ringing through the area.

“Before you all fall asleep, let me unlock your shackles, okay?” she announced. Pulling out the wooden key, she stared at the small object for a few seconds. While Hashira had demonstrated several times that the key was surprisingly strong despite being made out of wood, it didn’t mean she fully trusted it. But she didn’t have any other choice, really, other than continuing on blind. She would need her sharingan – if she could even use it after months of being stripped of her chakra – and at the very least, any jutsus as they continued through the forest. While the Senju would undoubtedly come after them, the forest also housed creatures that could easily hurt them if they weren’t careful.

“Damn,” Hitomi mumbled, coming to a decision she definitely didn’t like. With a deep breath, she leaned forward, a hand readjusting the metal shackle on her ankle. The skin below was raw from the friction of their escape and she had to hold back a wince from the sharp pain. “Here goes nothing,” she said, only loud enough for those right beside her to hear. To everyone’s surprise, the key slid smoothly into the lock. After a second, she twisted it, and with a click, the shackle fell open.

Hitomi’s sudden gasp rang throughout the small clearing. She fell forward, arms outstretched to catch herself as her eyes went owl-like, chest heaving for air. Several of the kids ran forward, Izumi included.

“It was a trick–”

“Hitomi-neesan!”

“What–”

Before anyone could roll her onto her side, she shot up, pupils dilated and a wide smile on her face. “I’m okay!”

Poor Tetsu, already exhausted from swimming in the pond and the stress from their escape, burst out crying at all the commotion. With a speed Izumi hadn’t seen from her before, Hitomi rushed forward, picking the boy up with an ease that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s okay, Tetsu!” Hitomi laughed, practically holding him up to the sky. “Oh my goodness, we’re all going to be okay!”

“...R-Really?” he quietly asked, wide eyes tinged red. “Nee-san’s okay?”

“Yes!” She laughed again. “Oh spirits, yes!” Once he had calmed down, she gently handed him to one of the older Hagoromo kids, returning to where her shackle lay to pull out the key. “Okay everyone, get in a line!”

The kids excitedly followed suit. Every time she unlocked a shackle, the person gasped without hesitation the moment it fell off their ankles. By the time it was Izumi’s turn, she was the last in line, full of nerves and anxiety, fear getting the best of her.

“You ready?” Hitomi must have caught how nervous she was. “It’ll be okay,” she tried reassuring.

“...Promise?”

“Of course.”

She watched as the teen inserted the key and–

Oh.

Oh wow.

The moment the shackle fell off her ankle, Izumi felt free. It was a breath of the freshest air, as if she had been deprived of everything right in the world. With a gasp, there was a rush of sensation rushing through her, a missing piece of a puzzle she hadn’t even known was gone that was finally returning home. She felt whole, the world around her coming back to life. A part of her felt too big but too small, her stomach beginning to swirl around from the overflow of sensations.

“Take a deep breath,” she heard off in the distance. Doing exactly so, she clenched her eyes shut as her hands balled into fists. There was a strange warmth from behind her eyes – was that normal? Was that how life had felt for her before her chakra had been blocked?

“I-Is this normal?” she repeated, her voice small, quiet. “Am I supposed to feel like this?”

“...Yes.” The corners of Hitomi’s mouth curled up sadly. “For the most part, almost everyone here was too young to have fully unlocked their chakra, so when it was blocked, you never really realized what you missed.”

“Oh.” Izumi blinked. “Thanks then, Nee-san.” But instead of walking away to join her peers, Izumi remained standing before Hitomi, her foot digging into the grass.

“Do you need anything else, Izu-chan?” the teen asked amusingly.

“I–” Izumi frowned. “Why did we leave so early?”

“Ah.” Hitomi sighed, shoulders falling as she leaned back to rest against the tree. “The Senju Clan Head found out that the missing child from the Uchiha’s head family was someone in our group. He was going to separate us in an attempt to figure out who.” Hitomi held her gaze for a little before saying, “Hashira figured out it was you.”

Izumi’s mouth fell open, brown eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief. “What?”

“For all his stupid laughs, the kid’s obviously a genius. That seal he broke on the door with his brother?” Hitomi scoffed in disbelief. “Unbelievable. No twelve-year-old shinobi should know how to break it, even if they were from an Uzumaki clan.”

“But how did he–”

Hitomi shot her a look. “Your name isn’t being spread and I assume Tajima-sama has something to do with that, but Hashira figured it out. There was enough information on your kidnapping for him to connect the dots.” With a sigh, she then added, “He mentioned that everyone’s treatment of you confirmed his theory. ”

Izumi couldn’t help but frown. “We all speak casually with each other, though.”

“Casually, yes, but not friendly. Only Kazuyo and Yuji talk to you like you’re friends of the same status, Izu-chan.” The teen smiled sadly. “On that note, I guess I’ll have to start calling you Izumi-sama again.”

Izumi scrambled forward but stopped shy of Hitomi’s reach. “Please don’t–”

“I won’t have a choice.” Hitomi slowly stood up with a groan, stretching her arms above her head. “We’ve been traveling a fair bit and I know you’re tired because I’m tired. Let’s get some rest, okay?” She ruffled Izumi’s hair before walking away towards where she left her stuff.

Izumi looked around and saw her fellow clanmates huddled amongst their own groups, either snoring on a blanket or laughing with each other. Even Kazuyo, her closest friend here, was speaking with another girl their age, head thrown back in laughter. Izumi was left standing by herself beside a large oak tree, a strange hollowness in her chest echoing back to her an erratic heartbeat, a strange whining in her ears that was growing louder with every passing second.

Izumi looked up to the dark sky, looking at the full moon shining through the small opening of the canopy, the stars and clouds scattered across the night sky. When she turned her head back down, she had to stifle the tears threatening to escape.

No more crying, she vowed. She had cried enough for what felt like centuries after everything that had happened.

So she dragged herself to a small corner of the clearing, close to where Kazuyo and Yuji had put their stuff down. She arranged her blanket onto the grass as she tried to get comfortable on the dirt ground, using her arms as a pillow.

She curled into herself and closed her eyes.

Count from one, okay? Katsumi’s voice said to her in her mind. I pinky promise I’ll be here until you fall asleep.

Izumi curled into an even tighter ball.

Liar, she thought, recalling her older brother’s promise. Liar, liar, liar.

How did that song go – break a promise and swallow a thousand needles?

But she didn’t dwell on that, not anymore.

So she began to count instead.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five…

Chapter Text

Hours later, they had crossed over into Uchiha protection without realizing it.

The group of children had been hiking through the forest, too tired to even complain about their aching feet and the heavy exhaustion. One second, they had been alone, the rustling of trees and the quiet cries of crows around them accompanied by heavy breathing, and the next, shinobi had suddenly appeared around them. Several of them screamed, not realizing that the strangers appearing were members of their own clan.

It was only when Hitomi shouted out that they were safe did they all realize that the Uchiha had found them, Uchiha motifs throughout the shinobi’s armor. Soon, alarms went off as shouting announced the arrival of children. The teen had stood at the front, everyone else crowing behind her as she flashed her Sharingan, acknowledging her status as well as her identity.

Izumi, who stood in the back with Kazuyo and Yuji watched as the temporary camp their clansmen had created suddenly appeared before them – it had been hidden by a genjutsu – and erupted into noise. Parents were emerging from tents after the okay had been announced and children were quickly being reunited with their families within minutes.

For a while, she had disappeared in the chaos, too many of the missing children crying and running around, looking for their own families. There were so many voices and bodies everywhere, it didn’t take much for a small girl like her to fade into the background. Of course, she was looking around, hoping that someone she recognized would be searching for her, but all of the adults around her were strangers. No one seemed to even notice them, the odd trio alone in the back.

“Do you think your father’s here?” Kazuyo asked in a small voice, looking at Izumi.

Without hesitation, she shook her head. “No. He’s Clan Head,” she said with confidence as if it were the most normal thing. With a shrug, Izumi dug the foot of her shoe into the dirt. “I don’t think he’d have time to be here.”

“Oh.” She looked away before perking back up. “Your brothers?”

“Maybe?” But before she could ask Kazuyo if anyone was looking for her, Yuji grabbed their wrists, stopping them. “What–”

“I-I…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I see my g-grandfather,” he said, pointing. His voice was shaking with emotions as both girls turned. “I–”

When they noticed the older man who was clearly searching the crowds for someone, Kazuyo didn’t hesitate to push him forward. A small smile appeared on Izumi’s face as she, too, gently pushed the boy. He didn’t bother saying anything, taking a hesitant few steps before suddenly bolting toward the older man. The moment he caught sight of Yuji, the man fell to his knees with open arms, the young boy sobbing as he threw his arms around his neck. An emotional display for all to see that neither seemed to care about, as it was only one of several occurring around them.

For the two girls watching their friend reunite with family, it was a bittersweet moment. On one hand, both were happy for their friend – but on the other, they could only wonder if there was someone here looking for them as well.

For a while, the two simply stood there, looking amongst the sea of adults and children. There was no one familiar to Izumi’s eyes and judging by the lack of excitement from Kazuyo beside her, she knew her friend was thinking the same. It was only when she locked eyes with a random shinobi who was staring at them, eyes narrowed and brows scrunched, that Izumi frowned.

She nudged Kazuyo. “Do you recognize him?” she asked, motioning with her head. “He keeps looking at us.”

Kazuyo stared back without shame, unnerving the shinobi enough that he flinched and turned away. “I dunno. I feel like he looks familiar…maybe a guard? I swear he talked to my mother a few times before.” But she shrugged, scratching her upper arm. “But who knows? At one point or another, they all start to look the same to me.”

Before Izumi could respond, though, chaos broke loose as she heard someone yell out louder than the crowd of people, “Is Izumi-sama with you?”

Her heart stopped. From who and where the voice came, she couldn’t tell, but she found herself cringing at the now unfamiliar honorific, an add-on to her name she hadn’t heard in months. What was once normal to her had grown into something unrecognizable – something about it felt so wrong.

“Yes!” she heard a familiar voice yell out – she swore it was Hitomi – but in the chaos, Izumi couldn’t see her. “She should be over there!”

…Wait, was that a finger in her direction?

“Where is she?” A new but familiar voice suddenly entered the fray, loud and demanding, taking full command of the situation. The mass chaos under the last yell hadn’t ceased but with this one, all came to a halt, everyone freezing where they stood. “Where is my daughter?”

Seconds ticked by in a heavy silence before the once-frozen crowd shifted, suddenly parting before her. Even Kazuyo took several steps away with an apologetic look, leaving Izumi alone to face her father. He stood on the other side as she laid eyes on him for the first time in a year.

For a moment, everything around her came to a halt. The wind, the trees, the wildlife – there was pressure growing in her chest, the air around her beginning to constrict as the eyes of over two dozen people and more were trained on her, watching for her next move.

The first thing she noticed was how violently her hands shook. She quickly balled them, nails digging into the flesh of her palm. At the very least, the pain helped clear away some of the anxiety roaring in her mind.

After seeing a few adults giving her strange looks she certainly didn’t like, she made up her mind. She would not run to her father for the sake of propriety. From the far reaches of her memory, she quickly recalled the rules of decorum that Harumi had instilled in her – or at the very least, the rules that she could remember – as she straightened her back and kept her chin up, beginning the long trek to where her father stood on the other end of the parted crowd. As much as she wanted to see if he would react as Yuji’s grandfather had – and she wanted to greatly, to forget about the eyes waiting for a mistake – she wouldn’t embarrass her father.

Tajima remained frozen as she passed by her fellow clansmen, dark eyes wide but face blank. She had kept her eyes trained on his clothing but when she dared to look up at him, their eyes met and she tripped. This was a catalyst, it seemed, breaking whatever stupor he had been trapped in. He quickly stormed forward through the crowd, the dirt and rocks crunching underneath his sandals as he came to a halt a few feet before her.

Izumi couldn’t help but nervously look around at everyone watching and Tajima quickly noticed. He raised a hand and whistled. Immediately, as if nothing had happened, everyone’s attention went elsewhere as several of the shinobi began to lead the remaining children away, reunited families also disappearing into tents or to the edges of the large camp. Eventually, she was left with her father who stood as an opposing figure, silent and alone.

“F-Father,” she greeted, bowing respectfully because that was always something she had done. Reverting to the norm was easier to do than to hope and dream that he’d welcome her with open arms, weeping and crying like the other parents she had seen. That just wasn’t him and she wouldn’t expect otherwise.

But in his silence, she didn’t know what else to do.

So she kept her head focused down, looking at the dirt by his feet as she waited for Tajima to say anything, to break the strange tension that had wrapped a chord around them. But there was no response. She hesitatingly looked around up the slightest amount, not enough to meet his eyes but lower. She quickly noted the slight tremors that ran through his hands.

“...Izumi,” he finally whispered, at a loss for words. She took this as her cue to straighten her posture, to finally lift her head and–

Her father, the Clan Head, one of the most powerful shinobi she knew, looked broken. And oh, it was so wrong. He was…he was Father, a pillar of strength not just for her but for everyone.

It was terrifying, seeing that blank mask she had grown up with now shifting through several emotions. He’d always presented himself as someone unapproachable – in her mind, he was a statue made of marble, cold and unmovable, calm and collected. An authoritative figure first and foremost, he never radiated warmth, that role having been placed upon her older brothers instead.

So why–

He shouldn’t be–

Terror increased the anxiety in her chest because everything occurring right now wasn’t how she’d imagined it. No, she had expected a firm welcome back and that typical cold reunion, because she hadn’t hoped for anything more. Just as she had mentioned to her friends earlier, she hadn’t even expected her father to be here. She had hoped instead to see Madara, at the very least.

It wasn’t meant to be a slight against her father whatsoever. It just so happened to be her reality.

Tajima raised a hand. She couldn’t help but flinch, never having seen this side of fatherly affection Madara had once claimed he had. Her recoil, coupled with her blatant fear, caused his face to fall for a brief second before shuttering all emotions on his face. He took his hand back, letting it fall to his side.

She felt a strange pang in her chest. Guilt? Sadness? She wasn’t afraid of him, it was just a strange shift in the typical dynamic she was so used to–

No.

No excuses.

Steeling herself, she took the initiative. A few steps forward and her father was watching her like a hawk at her sudden movement. She made up her mind, forcing herself to ignore the thoughts telling her that she was crossing a line when she hesitantly grabbed the edge of his shirt. When he didn’t pull away, she gripped it tighter despite the wrongness of the action.

But a small part of her recognized that she never wanted to let go.

“T-Tadaima,” she shakily whispered, voice breaking at the end. I’m home.

Her father stared, wide-eyed, at the hand that connected them. He made no move to respond and the doubt that had been begging for her to step away eventually won. She loosened her fingers from the cotton, fearing repercussions from this gross misjudgment when his body shifted. He slowly placed a hand over hers, warm and comforting, his grip growing in strength with every second that passed until it was downright painful. She didn’t know what he was going to do until it was too late to stop him – he lowered himself, squatting until they were of similar height, allowing her to look at him without angling herself up.

His firm gaze softened as he opened his mouth, but the words were caught in his throat. He was forced to clear it with a quiet cough as he slowly raised his free hand to her shoulder, stopping just shy of touching her. “Okaerinasai.” Welcome back. His voice was thick, his eyes taking in every scratch and bruise on her body.

With these words, the tension released its suffocating chokehold on Izumi. She could have wept at the relief but all at once, she became too tired to even think about crying, only registering that one second, she was standing in front of her father, and the next, she was being swept up into his arms. Exhaustion quickly caused her to go limp, her weight absolutely nothing for the seasoned shinobi. He held on for dear life as he quickly stood up, his daughter now safely secured in his arms.

As she felt the warmth and strength of the hug, not realizing just how desperately she needed one, she returned it with vigor, quickly hiding her face into his neck as her body involuntarily trembled, the fear and terror of the past few months quickly being pushed away by her father’s presence.

She was safe, she was safe – she was safe.

It was a rare moment for their clansmen to see, witnessing their normally cold Clan Head openly weeping into his daughter’s hair – but no one in the camp could fault him for it. Those who had traveled alongside the shinobi in hopes of reuniting with their own missing children sympathized, understanding the aching emptiness of a missing child, while others had witnessed their leader’s guise crack under the weight of what had been believed to be two deaths of his children, as Izumi had been feared dead alongside Katsumi.

A brief glimpse into a father’s reunion with his beloved daughter was not to be judged.

As he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, they all ignored the shine on their Clan Leader’s cheeks, of the quiet mumblings that spoke of relief and prayers to his late wife – because it was becoming abundantly clear that Tajima’s heart that had stopped all those years ago was beginning to beat once more.

0O0

Reuniting with her brothers was…strange.

It definitely didn’t go the way Izumi had expected.

The day she finally came home, she was rightfully nervous. Tajima had attempted to reassure her numerous times, repeating that her brothers missed her and that they would be happy to see her, but her fears overruled any and all rational thoughts. So when they were standing before the main compound after a few weeks of traveling, she was internally agonizing as the gates slowly began to creak open. She couldn’t help but hide behind her father’s legs and while he frowned at this, he said nothing, allowing her to stay where she was.

Because over the last ten months, she’d had a lot of time to think. Even at her young age, the traumas she had been forced to endure would play on repeat in her mind and her dreams – so she had expected her siblings to be upset with her in the same way she was with herself, blaming herself for what happened to Katsumi.

The doors weren’t even fully open when friends and families began to push their way through despite the guards' protests. Through the emerging crowd, there was a familiar trio that locked eyes with them and rushed towards them.

Her brothers.

As they sprinted, Tajima shoved her forward just in time for her to be tackled to the ground, overwhelming them all enough that limbs became tangled until she didn’t know who was who. All she did know, with her father standing beside them and her brothers encompassing her, was that she was truly, unequivocally, home. There was crying and laughing and even more hugging, and it was a relief like none other, a breath of fresh air she hadn’t known she was missing until this very moment.

The first few days back, everyone but her father had walked on eggshells around her, unsure of how to treat her. It ranged from acting as though she were a fragile bird, fallen and broken too far from the nest, to though as if nothing had changed, that she was the same girl from nearly a year ago. She had noticed this and hated it. But there wasn’t much to do about it when she remained tightlipped on the events of the past year, refusing to tell even Izuna when prodded.

Instead, she directed all her attention on the things around the home that had changed – there were new morning routines, unfamiliar schedules that everyone abided by, and the fact that her father now sat at the breakfast table every morning to no one's surprise but her own signaled a significant shift in the home life she had once been accustomed to.

She refused to acknowledge the empty seat beside Madara, though. She wasn’t ready for that.

When things had finally settled down after her return home, one night she found herself unable to sleep. It had been sudden, the strange pressure she felt on her chest as she tried to fall asleep. It wasn’t her first night home, yet being in her room, alone and in the dark, she found herself growing irrationally scared. It was too quiet, too strange not to hear the constant shuffling of others, the various noises that she had unknowingly grown accustomed to in the long months of her imprisonment.

Now that she was alone with nobody nearby, she couldn’t sleep.

For a split second, she gave thought to going to one of her brothers, to see if they would be willing to be near her as she slept, but she didn’t want to be a bother. She wanted to be strong enough to be on her own but she was…she was scared.

Just like she had feared, home was no longer a familiar place.

After a few more minutes of feeling as though the weight on her chest grew heavier and heavier, she finally crawled out of the futon and grabbed a pillow, sliding open the door to go to–

To–

Her thoughts came to a halt in front of Katsumi’s door.

A part of her was itching with the desire to knock despite knowing there would never be one back. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to throw open the door and run into her older brother’s room to see him, to hug him and count with him just like he had done with her before.

She wanted and wanted and wanted, but he would never be there again.

“–Izumi?”

She nearly screamed, whirling around and holding her pillow up to her chest. Her chest was pounding and for a moment, she was back in the cells, being dragged along the rocky corridor and Hitomi was dead–

She would be next–

“H-Hey, it’s okay–”

She blinked and Arata stood before her in their home, staring as if he had seen a ghost. His hands were outstretched, reaching for her, but didn’t go so far as to touch her.

“You need to breathe,” he was whispering, motioning with his hands. “We’ll count, yeah? Just listen to me.” She quickly nodded her head, eyes clenched shut as Arata began counting down from ten. “Ten, nine…”

Katsumi always counted from one, a cruel part of her whispered, a voice she smothered as quickly as it appeared.

“...one.” She slowly reopened her eyes and Arata was staring back, concern lacing his voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, breaking eye contact by looking down. “I couldn’t sleep a-and so I left my room but I didn’t know where to go.”

Arata frowned, looking at the door between them. Katsumi had been such a warm and comforting figure for them all. She wasn’t the only one who lost her big brother – he had as well, would know exactly what she was feeling.

“I’ll stay with you until you go back to sleep – only if you want me to,” he finally offered. That’d definitely be a first – not that she didn’t like Arata but he had never exuded the same presence as Madara or Katsumi had. He was the troublemaker, the attention-seeker – he never really held the same responsibilities as the oldest two did.

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” Izumi ended up blurting out. She didn’t want to bother anyone else, not when Izuna and Madara were asleep, but Arata was standing awake in front of her, so by default that meant it wouldn’t hurt to ask…right?

There was a beat of silence. He looked surprised but soon his eyes softened as he held his hand out. “Yeah, of course.”

So she followed her older brother to his room, where she quickly got comfortable in the second futon he laid out. After he tucked her in, there was an unfamiliar look in his eye that spoke of sadness and grief, but she couldn’t look any longer as he went to his futon and swiftly got into his own blankets. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep thereafter, his shallow breaths evening out into a deep slumber. It was only then, with their backs to each other, that the sound of his soft snores finally lulled her to sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, Arata was gone, his futon neatly folded up beside her. She yawned, blinking a few times as she debated closing her eyes to try and fall back asleep, but there was this general antsy feeling as though she were being watched that she didn’t like. She tried to get up but her body was suddenly refusing to listen–

She was trapped–

There was a creaking noise. Her eyes shot forward to the closet door in front of her, helpless as it slowly slid open, the shadows of the room growing darker and darker until it was almost as dark as night. From the closet’s darkness emerged a small hand, gripping the edge of the door. The other hand shot out, pushing the fusuma as it screeched along the floor tracks.

Then, from the shadows, a figure.

One eye watched through red hair, the other hidden fully by bangs, blood dripping from eyes and ears. She immediately recognized Haru, the boy unchanged from the day he died beside her, red eyes bloodshot with inhumanly pale skin, staring from the darkness of Arata’s closet.

She began to panic, breathing heavier as he took a heavy step out.

“You thought,” he began, mouth flashing blood-stained teeth, “you could escape me?” She wanted to scream, to shout to cry but her body was refusing to listen. She was left powerless as his knees fell to the ground, crawling onto the futon with his weight heavy atop her legs.

“N-No,” she finally managed to mutter through her paralyzed vocal cords.

“You left me for dead.”

She–

She didn’t–

“Izumi! Wake up!”

She jerked away, eyes wide and panting, Arata kneeling beside her. Her eyes darted across the room – the closet door was closed, the early morning sun shining a soft light throughout the room. Her brother had clearly been trying to shake her awake and without thought, she jumped onto him. There was a grunt from the impact as he was forced to throw his hands back to stop them from crashing into a heap on the ground, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care, clenching her eyes shut and tightening her hold on him. She could barely breathe – she would apologize later.

By the time Izumi got her breathing under control, Arata had wrapped his arms around her trembling body, hugging her tightly as he mumbled over and over again that she was safe, that she was okay, that she was home. But as she shifted her face into his chest, for a brief moment she swore she could still see Haru standing in the darkest corner of the room, red eyes watching her.

She swore Arata to secrecy afterward, making him promise to not tell anyone of her nightmare. She didn’t want anyone hovering over her, worrying that she couldn’t be alone or that she wasn’t okay – no, she needed to prove to everyone that she could come back home and be fine, that she would be able to meld into the new dynamic without failure. She wouldn’t fail at this.

She couldn’t.

So for the next month or so, Izumi kept to herself. While yes, she did follow around whichever of her brothers was free due to the sheer boredom of her days, most of the time she would be left to herself in a large home, quiet and aching for something to do.

The healers spoke of a readjustment period but she felt readjusted enough – she wanted to be with her brothers but that was impossible on the daily, and she found herself missing Kazuyo and Yuji but was unable to see them. She could only hope that they were still in the Main Compound somewhere, reunited with family.

If she couldn’t be with her brothers or her friends, what else was she to do? Sit at home, doodling on some blank paper until there was nothing left? Reading books and whatnot that she couldn’t even understand?

No.

Boredom was the worst and she was sick of it.

On one of the rare days that Madara was home, she found herself trailing after him like a lost duckling. Whether he was annoyed or amused, she couldn’t tell, and his unemotional face was beginning to annoy her greatly. After lunch, the twelve-year-old opted to sit on the engawa outside his room like the old man he was becoming – which she promptly stated in a loud voice and he rolled his eyes – and she plopped down right beside him.

The afternoon sun was hidden behind some clouds, enveloping the area in a soft shadow when Izumi spoke, breaking the silence. “What happened to Harumi-san?” she asked. It had been bothering her for quite some time, wanting to know what had happened to the woman she had grown fond of, but no one was willing to tell her or just simply didn’t know.

Madara opened one eye, keeping his meditation form despite her interruption. “You’re asking about your old teacher?” She nodded, noting his look of displeasure. “The last I heard, she was banished from the main compound. I think she’s teaching along the outer territories these days.”

“Oh.” Izumi looked up. “Do you think she’ll be able to come back now that I’m back?”

Madara looked at her, clearly debating on what to say before he sighed. “No, I don’t think so, because…well, she was sentenced to death by the Elders. It was only because Father intervened last minute that her sentence was banishment instead.” A horrified look crossed her face and Madara, at the very least, looked apologetic. “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“But she tried–”

“We don’t”—Madara looked into the forest, a distant look to her oldest brother’s gaze—“didn’t know what really happened that day, Izumi.” She frowned. “Harumi’s actions were frowned upon. As an adult, she had a responsibility to you and Katsumi. She didn’t bring you two along and the Elders deemed that the cause–”

“But that’s just not true!” The strength in her voice startled the older boy, her voice ringing across the yard. “Katsumi was the one who demanded her to leave with Izuna. She was injured and she wasn’t a shinobi, and he knew that and pulled rank on her! She didn’t want to leave us–”

“Hey–”

“It’s not fair that she was banished–”

“Enough.” She stopped, heeding Madara’s words. “I understand, believe me. She also said the same thing, that Katsumi gave her an order. As a shinobi, he outranked her in every way which left her no choice but to obey.” He looked away, unable to look at her. “But the Elders demanded repercussions for the deaths of the Head Family’s children and she was forced to pay it.”

“But I’m back. I wasn’t killed.”

“You know it doesn’t matter to them.”

“...It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he sighed, “but they demanded it anyway.”

The Elders. It was always the Elders.

Would they have even been in that situation if they’d allowed Izumi to train with her brothers? In fact, would Katsumi still be alive today? Would Harumi still be allowed to teach here in the main compound, her name untarnished from failing to keep the Clan Head’s children safe? Would she even be a private tutor – or would she have become a shinobi like she’d originally wanted?

These thoughts sparked an anger that quickly began to burn hotly in Izumi’s chest.

The Elders.

It was always those Elders.

“...I think it’s their fault,” she muttered, to which Madara whipped his head back around to look at her, shock marring his face.

“What?” he hissed.

Izumi took one look at his face and decided then and there that this was a battle she would lose, so she shrugged. “Never mind.” No longer interested in keeping her oldest brother company, she proceeded to stand up, bowed her head in farewell, and walked back into the house, leaving Madara alone on the engawa. She didn’t want to be around him any longer, finding that the silence of the house was better company these days.

He had changed, she thought, turning a corner and feeling the prickling of his eyes watching her. He was angrier, always arguing with Tajima. She didn’t know about what but knew it was strange – because the Madara she remembered last year practically worshipped their father, wanting nothing more than to prove his worth as the next Uchiha heir.

He wasn’t fun to be around anymore.

As she wandered down the empty halls, she passed by Katsumi’s closed door, only to come to a stop in front of it. She was staring at the sliding door for who knew how long, a hand hovering over the indented handle of the fusuma, but she couldn’t find the heart to actually open it. Instead, she just lingered without meaning, thoughts too muddled to string a proper thought. It was when somewhere in the house Madara began calling for her that her brain suddenly began functioning properly again.

That quickly forced her to move. Before she could regret the decision, she quickly slid the door open and just as quietly closed it, her back facing the room. She breathed in heavily, noticing the musty smell, and took a moment to brace herself before slowly turning around.

Oh, how her heart ached.

The room was just as Izumi remembered. Nothing was out of place, Katsumi’s books arranged in a particular way he once tried explaining to her, his futon nowhere to be seen. It must have been placed away into the closet like what they all were supposed to do – even though almost none of them listened to the housekeepers – because her brother had liked to be neat and clean. He’d prided himself on his attentiveness to details.

She slowly turned around in a circle. While the shoji windows typically allowed light into the room, due to the storm shutters the room was enclosed in darkness instead. The sun most likely hadn’t shined in here since the day the shutters were closed, months and months and months ago.

She hated it. Oh god, she hated it so much.

She didn’t know how long she was standing there in the dark when the door slid open, revealing an annoyed Madara.

“What are you doing in here?” he snapped. “We’re not allowed–”

“He would’ve hated it being this dark,” she whispered uncaringly. “He always kept the shutters open, allowing light into the room. He’d hate it.”

There was a pause. “I know,” Madara whispered, suddenly apologetic for how he’d snapped at her. He took a hesitant few steps into the room until he was beside her. “I said the same thing but no one would listen. They said it was safer this way.”

“Can we open them up?” she asked, looking up. “Right now?”

“...Not today,” Madara eventually answered. Whatever hope in her chest had vanished, snuffed out by the apathy in his tone. So she let her shoulders fall, looking away and opting to stay silent as Madara led her out of Katsumi’s room, closing the door off to the world once more.

She didn’t even bother looking back as she kept her head down, following her brother like the lost duckling she was once more.

0O0

“Izuna?”

Her twin brother whipped his head up, a wide smile appearing when he saw her. “Izumi!” He shot up from where he sat as she walked into his room. She couldn’t help but look around, noticing the little signs of Izuna’s personality all around the room – the messiness of his futon and blanket, the state of all the books on the small shelf in the corner, or the pile of clothes on the floor.

She wrinkled her nose.

Some things haven’t changed.

“Your room’s a mess.”

Izuna rolled his eyes. “Madara’s not here to yell at me for it so I don’t care.”

She snorted before throwing herself onto his futon. There was a comfortable silence between them for a while until he finished with whatever he was working on. He crawled close to her until he was laying atop her but diagonally, to which she protested the weight – but barely – until she gave up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked atop her.

She stiffened slightly, growing defensive. “Nothing,” she tried lying, but the look on his face was enough for her to suddenly sigh. The fight in her went out as soon as it began. “I’m…I don’t know. It’s weird, being home,” she finally admitted.

“...After everything that happened?”

She nodded her head. Truth be told, she had told her father nearly everything, but not all. There were parts of the last few months, particularly in the cells, that she hadn’t told anyone despite the questions. It was beginning to weigh on her, the deaths she witnessed.

And in particular, the deaths of Haru and Katsumi.

One night, she had been awoken by a particularly bad nightmare and couldn’t be alone. She went to Izuna’s room and woke him up, and she crawled beside him as she told him everything, of the heavy guilt that was nearly suffocating her.

“...I see that Uzumaki boy sometimes, you know,” she whispered, staring blankly at the ceiling. There was some shifting from Izuna as he finally crawled off of her, opting to lay beside her instead. “In the corner of my room, at the foot of my futon – he just watches me like a ghost.”

She hadn’t told anyone because she was…afraid, truly, of what it could mean. Was Haru a ghost – or was she crazy?

“You’re not crazy, you know,” Izuna said, grabbing her hand and gripping it tightly. “I believe you.”

Finally, she turned her head to the side. “What if I am, though?”

“Then we’ll be crazy together, no?” He gave her a toothy grin. “You and me against the world – I’ll protect you from the ghosts.” Warmth bloomed in her chest as she threw her arms around him.

Oh, how she missed Izuna.

“I missed you every day,” he mumbled, her hug muffling his voice.

“Me too.”

She extracted herself from him, quickly standing up and walking over to his desk. She took a look at what he was doing, pursing her lips at what she saw. “What’s this?” she couldn’t help but ask, eyes roaming over the unfamiliar characters on the paper.

Could Izuna read all of this? She could barely recognize half of the kanji written on the sheet, let alone the words and their meaning.

“Homework,” her brother proceeded to complain. “I hate it. It’s boring and dumb and I never want to do it but if I don’t, I get yelled at by my teacher.”

Izumi just hummed in response, feeling strange. “So you can…read these kanji?” she quietly asked, pointing to an unfamiliar one.

He tilted his head, brows furrowed. “...Yeah, you can’t?”

She quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. She shouldn’t be – of course he would know more, he was being taught while she was still in “recovery”, whatever that meant. No one had mentioned a tutor of some kind – at the very least, not to her anyway – and looking at what he was working on made her feel angry.

She needed to catch up, she didn’t want to be left behind any more than she already was.

“...No, I can’t read them,” she mumbled.

Izuna frowned, standing beside her, before he suddenly bolted. He ran to his closet, sliding the door open aggressively as he ruffled through a drawer filled with books and papers. She heard him shout yes with glee, only able to watch in confusion as he shoved a book into her hands and pulled out a brush.

“I’ll help you catch up!” he said, speaking as though learning a year’s worth of schooling was as easy as breathing. She was dumbfounded, eyes flitting between the workbook and her brother patting the zabuton beside him. “C’mon, sit down. Once you do, we might be able to have the same teacher and be in the same class. I can even introduce you to Hideaki!”

She frowned but did what he asked, flipping through the workbook as she sat down. “Hideaki?” That was an unfamiliar name. “And besides, I doubt it.” His brows furrowed. “I mean, we’ve always had different teachers.” They would never let her join Izuna, especially now – not if it meant holding him back.

“Maybe…” Izuna looked deep in thought, which could definitely be dangerous, Izumi thought. “Maybe you can ask Father again if you could become a shinobi like us? Then we’d definitely have to be in the same class.”

Izumi looked out of the open window, the gentle breeze creating a nice circulation throughout the room despite the humid summer. “I don’t know. It didn’t end well the last time I asked, remember?” she grumbled, resting her face on her palm as she could still recall the nastiness of that old man who had left a bruise on her arm.

“Maybe this time, Father will listen.” Izuna shoved her shoulder with his own. “He’s a lot nicer these days, and he’s around a lot more. He might consider it.” That could be true but she also didn’t have it in her to be rejected again – even though she wanted to be just like Hitomi-neesan, strong and willing to take charge to protect them all, she didn’t think they’d let her train. “But until then, we can always work together. I’m the smartest in my class next to Hideaki.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” she snickered, ignoring her brother’s outcry as she haphazardly flipped through the used workbook. Flipping to the first page of the workbook, she tried to read her brother’s messy scrawls throughout the page. “I can barely read it thanks to your stupid doodles,” she complained a second later, eyes going straight to the strange drawings scattered throughout the page.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” he quickly countered, growing red. “At least I still had it!”

“What’s the point if I can’t even read it? I can’t learn anything then!”

He crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at her head, which she avoided – but she did dive for it and threw it back, watching it soar and hit him between his eyes. There was a few seconds of silence until he tackled her to the ground with a cry.

Of course, that’s how Tajima found them a few minutes later. Izumi lay trapped beneath Izuna, his back nearly suffocating her. The fusuma door had practically slammed open, causing the two to freeze, eyes wide and guilty as their father stared with those familiar dark eyes hiding his true thoughts.

“What,” he began in a low voice, “are you two doing? I could hear your screams from across the hall.”

Izuna quickly scrambled off his sister and pulled her up, the two of them bowing their head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” they mumbled.

The open workbook on Izuna’s desk didn’t escape Tajima’s attention. Judging by the two seats at the desk and what he had begun to suspect was growing boredom in his daughter, Izumi was in search of anything to stimulate her mind.

“It seems that you have had enough time back home, Izumi, with nothing to do.” He slid both hands into his sleeves, coming to a decision. “I see it’s time that we hire another tutor for you, to catch you back up on your studies. I understand you heard what happened to Harumi?” Izumi gulped, nodding her head. “Then you understand the need for a new teacher.”

She nodded her head. “Yes, Father,” she mumbled.

There was silence as Izuna began nudging her with his shoulder. She shoved him back, not wanting to be disappointed again with the answer to her desire to be a shinobi.

He would say no, of course.

So of course her brother opted to speak for her instead, making what was – in her opinion – a terrible decision. “F-Father,” Izuna stammered, “can’t she…can’t she join me?”

Brows furrowed, Tajima sternly looked at his youngest son. “What?”

Izuna bowed his head again and Izumi looked panicked, something he quickly picked up on.

“Izuna, don’t–” she hissed.

“She can train to be a shinobi, just like me,” Izuna powered through, obviously nervous. “I-I know the Elders don’t want her to be one but–”

Tajima held a hand up, stopping him, “Izumi.” Her body was stiff as she slowly turned her head up to his call, wincing at the look she was on the receiving end of. “Instead of having your brother tell me, I want to hear it from you – what do you want?” He raised a brow. “It won’t be hard to find another suitable teacher, there’s plenty and catching you up on whatever it was that Harumi was teaching won’t be hard, you’re a smart girl.”

She blinked a few times at the sudden praise before turning to Izuna. They silently communicated with each other, whether it was furrowing of her brows to quick, tiny shakes from her brother, and whatever it was that was going on seemed to go on far too long for their father as he cleared his throat.

“I…” Izumi took a deep breath. She raised her head fully, shoulders taut and spine straight. “I would like to be a shinobi, Father.” Clear and concise, just like how he’d like it.

Tajima stared back for a moment, watching her, before giving her a firm nod. “Then a shinobi you shall be.”

Taken aback by his quick response, she exchanged another look with Izuna who proceeded to the question on her mind. “What about the Elders?” They were bound to be upset at this decision.

“Tch.” Tajima waved a hand, rolling his eyes. “They’re not for you to be concerned about. I will deal with them.”

“T-Thank you!”

She bowed and Izuna simply followed her move. There was a soft smile on Tajima’s face, although the two didn’t see it. “Don’t let me down, Izumi.”

She wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

She was going to be a shinobi, to protect herself and her loved ones. She was going to be strong enough so that one day, she would never need anyone to protect her.

The following weeks had introduced the long sought chaos she had wanted back into her life. What had been quiet and slow mornings had exploded into a rush of preparations from the housekeepers to her brothers – Izuna being the most useless, simply being there and bothering Izumi rather than going to his own classes.

While she wouldn’t be joining Izuna any time soon, her father had mentioned that once she caught up, she would be allowed to join Izuna’s terakoya – a school run by either a priest or shinobi – if she met the requirements. That wouldn’t be for a while she was told, so she wouldn’t have to worry about that just yet.

The day she walked to the terakoya her father had enrolled her into, she found herself standing alongside familiar faces outside of a temple.

“I recognize everyone here,” she whispered to Arata, who had deemed it necessary to escort her on the first day. Madara was on a mission with their father outside of the compound, which meant that he was delegated the task of making sure she wouldn’t get lost on the way to the temple school.

Arata smiled. “Madara and I convinced Father that enrolling you with people you knew would be better than dropping you into a class already halfway through the year. You know, it was Madara who mentioned that you weren’t the only child behind in their lessons, so Father decided to organize a new school and found someone willing to help you all catch up. That’s why it took so long.”

Izumi couldn’t help the grin as she looked up at her brother. “Thank you,” she said, warm and giddy.

This would be the first time she would be attending any sort of public class, having only been taught by a tutor at home before…well, before. To be with other children, learning and talking and making friends, it would be nerve-wracking – but if Izuna could do it, then so could she.

Arata rolled his eyes, shoving her slightly. “Yeah yeah, whatever. I have my own classes so I have to go – I’ll be back to come and pick you up, okay?” She couldn’t dodge her brother’s hand which landed on her head to ruffle her hair, messing with the small bun. She started to complain but Arata ran away, and so instead she grumbled to herself as she shoved her notebook into the folds of her kimono to fix her hair.

Afterward, Izumi saw another group of children joining the crowd. When she took a closer look, she realized a familiar smile was directed at her. She ran forward, a hand outstretched in a wave as the two girls reunited after two months of being apart.

“Kazuyo-chan!”

“Izumi-chan!” Kazuyo pulled a face, tilting her head the slightest in doubt. “Or…Izumi-sama?” Izumi quickly shut her down, faking a gag.

“Don’t ever call me that again – I think I’ll actually vomit if you do.”

Kazuyo giggled. “I’m so happy that I get to finally see you.” They laughed and stood beside one another, a sense of camaraderie as they began smiling and acknowledging the other children they recognized.

“So where are you staying?” Izumi asked when the excitement died down. “I tried asking my father but he didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me.”

For a brief moment, there was a flash of something in Kazuyo’s eyes but her friend quickly covered it up with a groan. “I’m stuck at some local temple here that took a few of us in. It’s lame,” she complained.

Izumi frowned. While she wanted to ask about her mother and any other relatives, it was a touchy subject for them all and if Kazuyo was in an orphanage rather than a home, that meant she had…no one. “Is it here on the Main Compound?” At the very least, she hoped it was so she could visit her friend.

“Yes, thank god. I hated living in the outer compounds.” With a shrug, her friend held her notebook closer to her chest, looking down. There was a beat of silence, clearly she was trying to think of her next words, skin taut over her knuckles. “...You know,” she said, her voice suddenly quiet and somber, “at least here, they’re letting me go to school. Before, my mother had to fight just for a tutor when the terakoya’s around us rejected me. They all said I was better suited for farmwork or housework instead.”

Izumi didn’t know how to respond. She hadn’t realized up until now that she had been lucky not to fear her education being taken away – it had been established she would, at the very least, have a tutor given her status within the Head Family. While she hadn’t been enrolled in a terakoya like her brothers up until today, that didn’t mean her education was being kept from her. If anything, it had been stressed.

“Well we’re together again,” she ended up awkwardly saying, unable to think of anything else. Wanting desperately to lighten the mood, she hooked her arm with Kazuyo’s, dragging them towards the back of the growing crowd of children. “Maybe we’ll even become shinobi together!”

That did the trick because Kazuyo’s head whipped around, wide-eyed in astonishment. “Wait, what? They’re letting you train?”

At this, she smiled proudly. “My father promised me.”

The change in her friend was instant – she grabbed Izumi’s shoulders, gripping on with dear life as she began to shake her back and forth. “You have to ask your father to let me become one, please. I can’t sit back and do nothing but clean or cook or farmwork for the rest of my life. Izumi, please–”

She simply let herself be shaken, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’ll ask!”

Her friend narrowed her eyes and let go – but of course, only after a few more shakes. “You better,” she growled but there was no heat behind her words.

Even after all that, the doors to the terakoya still remained shut. After a while, she turned to Kazuyo who was now squatting on the ground, watching a line of ants to stave off her boredom. “Do you think Yuji will be here?” Izumi had been watching for a while but hadn’t seen their mutual friend, growing increasingly concerned that they wouldn’t be reunited.

Kazuyo shook her head, her attention unwavering from the small ants marching away from their tiny little anthill. “He probably returned to whatever Hagoromo compound he came from, don’t you think?”

Izumi frowned, feeling somewhat unbalanced without the boy with them. “After we got back to the compound, I only saw his grandfather with him, so I just assumed he was still here.”

Kazuyo picked up a stick, beginning to agitate the ants by absentmindedly poking around the hole. “I did ask some of the other kids who also got taken to the other temples looking after us orphans, but no one saw him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll have luck seeing him–”

“Wait, I see him!”

“Wait, what?”

Izumi grabbed Kazuyo’s shoulder, ignoring her protests as she pulled the girl up. “Look!” She pointed into the distance where two figures were slowly coming up the gravel path.

Just like she had said, Yuji was walking up with the same older man from when they’d been reunited. He looked a lot better she noted, especially with how her friend had gained a considerable amount of weight back after months of barely eating. There was a glow to him that hadn’t been there before, a drive that Izumi and Kazuyo had wanted to see Yuji have – and failed to see – during their unfortunate time trapped in the Senju compound.

When the young boy caught sight of them, he did a comical double-take – to which Kazuyo couldn’t help but snicker at while Izumi shoved the girl’s shoulder – before haphazardly giving his grandfather a quick hug goodbye to run toward them. While he didn’t see it, the two watched his grandfather’s smile soften in such a way that even at their young age, it felt as though they’d intruded on a private thought that shouldn’t have been seen.

“You guys are here!” Yuji was practically prancing towards them, a toothy grin lighting up his face.

“You’re here!” Izumi waved with both hands, her notebook hanging precariously between her kimono again.

“I thought you would’ve gone back to the Hagoromo clan,” she said after another bout of happy hugs and smiles at their unplanned reunion. Immediately, she knew it was the wrong question. The happy smile faltered, no longer reaching his eyes as Yuji looked away, a strange look in his eyes. She wanted to slap herself for how stupid she’d been, suddenly recalling that his grandmother had been with him the day he was kidnapped. He didn’t need to say anything else for her to know what happened.

“Actually, my grandfather chose to formally adopt me,” he answered in a false happy tone. “I’m an Uchiha now.”

His words created a somber quality to the air, as both Izumi and Kazuyo could also read between the lines. For some reason, his parents were no longer around and the Hagoromo weren’t willing to take him in.

Strange, seeing as he was the son of a Hagoromo shinobi.

She took another look at his grandfather, whose lone figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. She didn’t have to ask to know that he was alone in the world without his grandson and that loneliness ached deeply in her chest.

“At least we’ll be together for school,” Izumi ended up saying, forcing a small but hopefully believable smile. “I would’ve hated it if I had to go alone.”

The rest of the day went slowly and by the time she said her goodbyes to her friends, she was practically dragging her feet back home – but it was worth it, feeling this exhaustion, her brain a mush because it was exactly what she had wanted.

She had earned it, wanting at least one good thing to go right.

0O0

Tajima

Tajima had chosen to overlook his daughter’s initial training, wanting to see whether or not Izumi was well suited for the intensity of the shinobi lifestyle. While she had potential in her chakra stores, they were still smaller than what he would have liked – and due to her imprisonment, he wasn’t sure how much effect that would have on her growing body. With the healers giving her an all-clear before the physical aspect of training began – and he hated to admit that the Senju hadn’t starved any of the kidnapped children under their care – Izumi was already nearly there to a full recovery.

Almost as if nothing had even happened.

Which, of course, was a foolish thought. Physically she was healed – and he thanked his wife and spirits for that – but mentally? Well, that would be a different story. There would be several instances of him doing his rounds before bed, checking in on each of his children, only to notice the fluctuation of her chakra which typically meant a nightmare. She would never seek him out after these dreams, opting for one of her brothers instead, but it bothered him nonetheless. He knew there was no way that her time under the kidnappers and Senju wouldn’t leave its lasting impacts on her, but as a parent, it pained him that there was no way for him to help but hope that she would one day manage it on her own.

He’d thought training would help but sometimes, he wasn’t so sure. A part of him felt as though teaching his daughter how to become a soldier in this eternal war would eventually lead her down a dark path, one threatening bloodshed and agony – but he would never deny his desire to also keep her safe. It’d be easy to assign guards like clockwork around her – and all his children – but she needed to know how to protect herself in case these hypothetical guards fell. It’d be a disservice to his family and the clan if he raised children unable to protect themselves – because how would they serve their responsibilities if they knew nothing of reality?

But besides that, he now had to worry about those beginning to push the topic of a marriage contract for his children and in particular – Izumi.

The idea of marriage as a form of protection was ridiculous, no matter how they attempted to spin this idea to him; Izumi was much too young for him to even want to consider sending her off to some random home. It didn’t help that many of the Elders in his council were arguing that it would help strengthen relations with other clans, claiming her position as an Uchiha shinobi was pointless, that she would have better use elsewhere for the sake of the clan.

He had to hold himself back from setting fire to the entirety of the council when those words left their mouths.

He had maintained a firm stance, exerted his power over them on this topic. Thankfully, they had taken a step back from pressuring him on this – but it would only be some time before they began again.

Snakes, the lot of them.

Regardless, this past year had been an opportunity of growth for both him and Izumi. He’d learned more about his daughter this past year than ever before. The more he watched, the more he witnessed her desire to be seen, to be given the same opportunities as her brothers to prove her worth. She had never been given the chance to show her strengths, he realized, recalling the progress reports he had gotten on all of his children besides hers.

She held just as much potential as her brothers. She knew this, never failing to show that her ambition was so like her oldest brother’s that at times, he’d think they were the same person – both having a belief to prove themselves. Quite a surprise that she was so different from Izuna.

So perhaps spite did help Tajima make his decision to train her against the council’s outcry but in the end, he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. If that meant guiding a sword into her small hand rather than the stroke of a paintbrush, then so be it.

God, he had been blinded for too long, running away from his children and the responsibilities he had as a parent – all for what? Unwilling to face his own family after his wife’s death to protect his peace?

Ridiculous.

He failed as a husband and had been failing as a father, and when he stood in front of a mirror after Katsumi’s hundred-day death ceremony dressed in his mofuku, his black mourning garb was a stark contrast to how ill he looked. He couldn’t even recognize the man who stared back at him with those hollowed eyes and limp hair. That had been enough for him to finally snap out of the years-long denial of his grief over his late wife, embracing the sadness with the fresh agony of a lost child.

It pained Tajima that it took his son’s death for him to return to his children. It would be a regret he held close to his heart for the rest of eternity, following his spirit even after death.

And so over the last few months, Tajima happily watched his daughter flourish. He was a firsthand witness to Izumi’s growth, how she was gaining confidence with how freeing the training had become for her.

He did, however, draw the line on her request to train some random girl she had decided to become friends with, delegating that task to someone else. It turned out that several members of her class held desires to be a shinobi, and who was he to deny the growth of his clan?

Before he knew it, a year had passed since her return and she was now eight, stronger and taller and confident, and before long, he was giving her permission to join Izuna. It didn’t take much to enroll her in a different terakoya despite her gender – the one she had originally been going to was just a temporary stepping stone, after all – along with a select few of her classmates. This new school was more appropriate for her age and status, being run by a trusted former shinobi rather than a temple priest.

Yet, with this growth came secrets; he never truly knew what his daughter was thinking, the girl capable of hiding her thoughts even from the best of them. Although he knew that she told Izuna nearly everything, the boy was tight-lipped on it, refusing to speak on anything when asked. It frustrated Tajima to no end, particularly when he suspected several things and wanted confirmation on them, one of which was, in fact, a very crucial one if true.

There were moments throughout the past year that had him on edge, moments of high suspicion regarding her outbursts. Emotional ones were to be expected, no child ever went through training and didn’t come out frustrated – as much as he hated dealing with the tantrums – but in those moments, he’d never fail to sense the flare of chakra where there shouldn’t have been.

Right behind her eyes.

He had caught it the first time on accident and tried to convince himself that it was a figment of his imagination. He did watch closely thereafter only to be proven wrong every time – he’d witness Izumi’s chakra, once again, build up behind her eyes in a manner that only occurred in those with an awakened sharingan.

Looking back, he’d clearly been in denial.

“Father?”

Tajima blinked. Madara was watching him from the doorway to his office. “Yes?” he asked gruffly, rubbing the sides of his head. God, he could feel a headache growing, pounding his brain. He was in desperate need of a break.

“Is everything alright?”

“It’s nothing you need to be worried about.” Waving a hand, his eldest stepped foot into the room, a pile of papers that definitely threatened his peace in his hands. “Are those the copies I requested?”

“Yes, sir.” While reading through mission reports and treaties and requests from other clans were the last things he wanted to do, he did so without complaint, knowing that he had a duty to uphold. It’d reflect poorly to display annoyance and laziness in front of the boy who would one day succeed him, after all.

He began flipping through the sheets, separating the urgent copies he made from the ones that could be pushed aside for later, and Madara took his silence as a sign to leave. Before he could slide the door open though, Tajima spoke without looking up. “Bring your sister here; I have to speak with her.”

With a firm nod, the door slid shut and he was finally left alone. He let his shoulders slump the slightest amount but continued his monotonous work, unsure of how much time had passed when a knock at the door relieved him of this agony.

“Enter.”

Izumi slid open the door and bowed, quickly closing it behind her. “You called for me?”

Tajima took a good look at his daughter who was growing increasingly uncomfortable with how long he was openly staring.

All of a sudden, his initial plan to speak with her in this room felt wrong. Beside her head hung the calendar and his eyes were unable to escape the date circled in red – last Sunday had been Katsumi’s meinichi. They had gone to his son’s grave to give respects on the second death anniversary together as a family.

It was at the family grave when he had been watching his children that Izumi’s chakra had flared in that increasingly familiar way, catching his attention once again. At the time, he couldn’t help but recall her past incidents, which was why he had decided to talk to her now.

But…

“Are you dressed appropriately for the weather?” Tajima asked, standing up. She nodded and so he led them out of the house, much to her confusion. They slowly walked down a familiar path, one which he knew she recognized when there was a hitch in her breath.

“Are we…going to the family grave, Father?” she quietly asked beside him.

“Yes, to pay respects to your mother as well.” He found himself visiting their family gravestone more often than not, particularly during the moments when he found himself reminiscing on the past – and it happened more often than not. It had become a comfort to maintain the large pillar engraved with the family names, cleaning it from weeds and moss.

When they reached the cemetery, they silently went through the ritual of purifying their hands before filling a bamboo bucket with water. They passed by dozens of other headstones and visiting families, to whom they bowed their heads in respect and vice versa.

Once they reached the family grave, they used the bamboo ladle to carefully wet the stone, pouring water over the impressive granite before sweeping away the trapped dead leaves and debris that had been swept over by the wind. Incense lit and hands clasped, prayers were said. After some time, he squatted before the stone, eyes roaming over the names of his late wife and child etched in the stone.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?” he asked after a while, turning his head slightly to his daughter. He internally winced at the blunt question, unsure of how else to bring up the topic without revealing too much of his suspicions.

At this, Izumi’s brows furrowed. “Did I…do something?” she asked, eyes widening in panic. “Did I get a bad score on the most recent test?”

“No, you’re not in trouble. It was just a question.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “No, then.”

He looked at the gloomy skies above them, thinking of his late wife. “Then…how are you doing? Katsumi’s meinichi is difficult for us all but due to the circumstances, I know it can be particularly hard for you.”

Izumi had revealed to him soon after her return her memory of Katsumi’s death in extremely sharp detail. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it – which was certainly foolish of him now he knew what most likely had happened. While she was young, it wasn’t unusual for children to block out memories from trauma – but she had clearly done the opposite. Izumi’s ability to recall such pinpoint details was a sign of something unusual.

An eidetic memory was a sign of an activated sharingan.

Regardless of that, his thoughts and suspicions were pushed aside at that time, his priority finding this man. He’d sent all the information to his spies and allies but unfortunately, there was nothing substantial in response to this day. He was beginning to fear that it’d been too long and the man was now dead, but he had a gut feeling that the shinobi was still alive out there.

It haunted him, the inability to properly avenge his son.

“I…” She looked away. “I’m fine.”

Doubtful, but again, he didn’t know how else to broach the subject without being too demanding. “It can be–”

“I’m fine.” There it was again – he quickly activated his sharingan, noticing exactly what he had suspected – her chakra was being drawn to her eyes. She was taken aback by his dōjutsu but he didn’t look away, keeping them trained on her. “Why…why do you have your sharingan activated?”

He blinked, taking a second. It’d definitely be an abrupt shift in conversation, but it would have to do. “To remind you that you have the potential to awaken it. There hasn’t been an Uchiha shinobi in the Head family without an activated sharingan in over two centuries.” He closed his eyes and stopped the flow of chakra before reopening them. The sharpness of his vision had dulled to his regular one, colors and the chakra signatures of those within the cemetery no longer visible. “Izumi, what do you know about our dōjutsu?”

“...Is this a test?” She narrowed her eyes.

He raised a brow. “Do you want this to be a test?”

“N-No!” She took a deep breath and a haze overtook her eyes, clearly recalling her classes on their dōjutsu. “Our sharingan is important to the clan, a symbol–”

He waved a hand, interrupting her dull explanation. “No, I don’t want the textbook definition, That’s too easy – I could tell you myself. I want to know what you know, what you think about our dōjutsu.”

“…Is this about Aniue’s sharingan, then?” Madara had, in fact, celebrated a milestone for his sharingan a few days ago. “I know that his went from one tomoe to two.”

He could use that. “While not relevant, it does play a factor in why I’m asking you about it.”

Izumi took a deep breath and pursed her lips, fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves as she thought over the question. “Well…I think it’s important that the Uchiha have it. It helps keep those without it safe. It shows strength and responsibility because we have to dedicate time to it. I guess it also…um…” She turned her attention to Katsumi’s name in the granite, blinking a few times before her face fell, voice drifting off. “It shows sacrifice,” she finally finished, quiet and sad.

“Sacrifice?”

A nod. “Because to awaken it,” she said somberly, “someone you love has to die.”

Tajima had to take a second at those words. Not because she was wrong but because that was the dark reality of their dōjutsu, wasn’t it? That something so powerful came at the cost of a loved one. Every Uchiha with an awakened sharingan had a story of grief, of agony so powerful that led them to become the shinobi they were, driven by the anger to seek revenge against those who wronged them. There was a reason why their clan was as powerful as they were, feared and respected by the fire country.

“That’s correct.” He finally stood up, knees popping from squatting for so long. “So it’s best to never forget their sacrifice, to grow stronger to respect their memory.” Then, grabbing the bucket with water, he gently filled the ladle with water once more, pouring it into the small hollowed-out section of the stone meant to hold water. “Which brings me to my next point: if you find yourself…hiding anything because you’re worried of the implications that an awakened sharingan has–”

“My sharingan hasn’t awoken yet, Father, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He paused, the trickling noise of the water stopping. He noted her refusal to meet his eyes. “What have I said about interruptions?” he said sternly to which she winced, bowing her head in acknowledgment of her rudeness.

Tajima knew there was the possibility that Izumi could be telling the truth, that she truly wasn’t aware of her awakened sharingan, not if the trauma surrounding the incident was what he believed it to be. While extremely rare, young children did have the potential to awaken the dōjutsu if the emotional trauma was powerful enough – and if his speculation was correct, a sibling’s brutal death would certainly be enough of a catalyst.

He went back to pouring the water, opting to stay silent until the ladle emptied. Once done, he straightened his back and took a step back from the grave, the stone pebbles shifting under his feet as he bowed once more. She silently followed his actions and it was only when he took another look at the stone that he felt as though his wife was watching them, her spirit haunting their conversation.

Her voice was clear in his mind despite the near decade since her death – how angry she was with him for his failures as a father, warning him in that firm tone of hers to be careful with their children.

Oh, how he missed her.

He closed his eyes once more, placing the bucket on the ground before clasping his hands and saying his farewell.

I know you’re angry with me, he thought, hoping his prayers reached her. Please forgive me. I do what I do to protect them, to give them the strength to continue in this world when I’m gone and finally reunited with you.

There was a faint breeze. For a moment, he imagined that it was his wife’s arms settling around him, that she was still here to help him along the unending journey of grief.

“She is still grieving as we all are,” he could hear her say, “so give her time.”

He ignored the ache in his chest, only reopening them and letting his hands fall when his emotions were under control once more.

“Alright then.” He handed her the now empty bucket, the ladle inside bumping against the bamboo. “Let’s return home.”

While he would work with the assumption that for some reason, Izumi thought keeping her dōjutsu hidden was safer, that didn’t mean he would understand how keeping such an instrumental step in her training hidden was a good idea. He had seen the children who awakened their sharingan – most boasted about this accomplishment, a proof of their dedication and strength to the Uchiha. Her older brothers had done the same when theirs had awakened, but he now understood that it may have been presumptuous for him to compare their actions to hers.

She took the bucket with confusion, looking at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. It’s always good to pay respects to the dead, Izumi.”

Their conversation stagnated on the way back to the house but he paid it no mind. He wouldn’t force her to reveal whether or not she had a sharingan – at least, not yet – because he knew it could potentially backfire on them. She could grow to resent the dōjutsu which would be a problem, especially when there needed to be harmony to fully embrace the strength of their eyes.

She was young and so they had time. While it wasn’t important just yet, he would cycle back to this conversation in a few months to gauge from there.

Chapter Text

“What can you tell me about the chakra pathways?”

Izumi and Kazuyo sat beside each other in the corner of the classroom, hunched over their desk as they overlooked their notes, just as their fellow classmates were doing as well. Their teacher weaved between the rows of students, hands clasped behind his back and a cold calculating eye landing on nearly everyone in the room. Silence was the only answer and when it was clear that Sanshiro-shishou was becoming unhappy with the lack of response, Izumi slowly raised her hand.

But like always, she already knew the outcome. He continued to ignore her, looking to the other students in hopes that they would answer. It was only when someone in the front raised their hand that the teacher called on him.

Izumi let her arm fall and sighed, picking her brush back up.

What was the point? Every time she tried to participate in class, Sanshiro would ignore her attempts, opting to call on another student instead.

Of course, out of a class of thirty, the only two girls were her and Kazuyo, and of course, they were never allowed to participate in class discussions.

Her friend was only second to her in scores, which only rubbed salt into the wound. Kazuyo was better at taijutsu but slightly weaker in ninjutsu, where Izumi excelled at. And when it came to actual class subjects, ranging from math to history, the two girls were a match. While not the top in their class, they easily outranked several of their other classmates.

The boy who raised his hand, Shou, was looking back at his notes and began to stutter. At some point, the teacher cut him off. “That’ll be enough.” There was no reaction on Sanshiro’s face – like always, it was just an apathetic look as his eyes roamed the class.

Izumi’s eyes met Kazuyo’s beside her, to which her friend raised a brow before rolling her eyes. She had to hold back her laugh in response, absentmindedly flipping to a blank page of her notebook as her teacher started the lesson on the chakra pathways.

Luckily for the newly turned nine-year-old, her father had already gone over this topic with her a few weeks ago, pulling her aside from their physical training.

“It’s important for us to know about the tenketsu points,” he had said, “because while our eyes can’t see the pathways as the Hyūga can, the sharingan is still capable of seeing the flow of chakra. Having a general knowledge of the system is crucial for training as an Uchiha shinobi.” He had placed several books into her hands that explored the tenkestsu points, their general location, and sent her on her way. She left that conversation feeling something akin to whiplash but had done as she was told to do, remarking on the strangeness to Izuna later that same night.

Why she was given this information, she didn’t want to think about, but she knew with growing suspicion that her father didn’t truly believe her when she said she didn’t have a sharingan. He emphasized the dōjutsu too often for it to be a coincidence at this point.

“–Izumi-sama, care to tell me what you’re thinking about instead of paying attention to the lesson?”

She whipped her head up and saw Sanshiro-shishou watching her. Quickly following that, the eyes of all of her classmates.

“I–”

“Is this topic too boring for you? Or perhaps you aren’t taking your studies seriously?”

“N-No, Sanshiro-shishou, of course not,” she said quietly, bowing her head down. “I was just thinking about the pathways is all.”

“Oh, were you?” He walked over to her desk. “Then tell the class what you were thinking.”

Her stomach fell and she balled her hands underneath the desk, keeping her head down. “That’s not necessary, shishou.”

“I will decide what’s necessary.”

So with a shaky breath, she went to flip back to her notes on the topic when, with expert precision, he flipped her book closed with his pointer stick. He stayed silent but the meaning behind the move was obvious.

Izuna from the other side of the room watched her with concern and he shifted around as if he was about to raise his hand – but she silently stared at him and barely shook her head. Her brother frowned but settled back down, although the fire in his eyes was a slight reprieve from the blatant targeting.

“The chakra pathways–”

“Louder, Izumi-sama, so the class can actually hear you.” She heard some quiet snickering, her face flushing hotly.

“The chakra pathways serve to deliver chakra throughout the body, similar to the c-circulatory system, and is c-crucial to the human body as blood.” She blinked several times, trying desperately to recall the passage that she had read last night from the book Tajima had given her. “O-Our dōjutsu isn’t able to see the 360 tenketsu points but we can still see the flow of chakra in the body and its nature. There are also six – no, um…eight gates that stop us from using too much of our chakra because overuse can damage our bodies.” Izuna was looking at her, nodding slightly, and judging by the lack of panic in his eyes she had done alright.

That was fine. As long as she did alright, that was all that mattered. Her late-night studying was clearly paying off.

Sanshiro-shishou stayed silent for a few beats before letting out a huff, walking back down to the front of the class. “Three hundred and sixty-one tenketsu nodes, Izumi-sama. Perhaps prioritizing attentiveness should be your priority as a student in my class.”

Her ears burned but she looked down to her notes, digging her nails into her palms.

She hated Sanshiro. She hated this man so much – nothing she ever did proved to him that she deserved to be here just like everyone else.

She opened her eyes, took a breath, and quietly exhaled. The teacher had his back to the class as he began writing out information on the pathways and while a part of her rebelled against writing anything he was saying, she ignored that voice and picked up her brush to take notes.

0O0

Izumi flew back, falling heavily on her rear as Izuna’s bokken pointed down at her. Her own wooden sword nearly flew from her grasp but muscle memory kept it from happening. She sneered, frustrated not at her brother but at herself for losing this match.

“Again.”

Their father had chosen to overlook today’s extra training, his first in weeks due to a mission, and she had embarrassed herself for failing so horribly. She needed to do better – be better, to prove that she wasn’t wasting his time. She needed at least one win.

She took Izuna’s hand as he pulled her up and he gave her an apologetic smile as he readied himself for the rematch. She readjusted the straps of the practice armor meant to get the wearer used to the added weight in a real battle, hating how they dug into her shoulders – but there was nothing to be done about that. They bowed to one another, bokken held at an angle in front of them.

“Hajime.” Begin. Their father’s low voice echoed throughout the dark dojo.

While she did her best, unfortunately, Izuna knocked her back down onto the ground once more. She stood up before her brother could offer his hand, readjusting her hakama to prepare for another round, no matter how much her tiny body was protesting when her father held a hand up.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. Clean yourselves up.” Tajima left soon after, leaving Izumi feeling even worse about herself as she stared at the closed door, sword held loosely in hand.

“It’s okay, you just need some more time–”

Within seconds, the suffocating dejection was replaced by a fury of frustration. She threw off her helmet, ignoring how it clattered to the ground. Chest heaving from the match and itching with the desire to scream, she released her anger with a furious groan instead.

She wasn’t getting any better, she thought, feeling as though she was getting worse. It was beyond infuriating. No matter how many hours she practiced, no matter how much sweat she poured into her training, those few years she wasn’t allowed in the dojo were clearly hindering her in making any progress.

“I’ve been training under Father for almost two years.” She practically threw herself back down onto the ground, bringing her legs up and hanging her head between them. “When is it going to be good enough? He’s going to regret ever letting me become a shinobi, Izuna.”

“Don’t think like that.” After taking off his own helmet, he picked hers up and sat beside her in a much calmer fashion. “I think you’re doing good. Besides, we both know you’re better at ninjutsu than I am. I mean, just look at the marks you get at school.”

She lifted her head pathetically, pouting. “We both know it’s not enough.” It would never be enough. “You saw how shishou called me out today. That’s just going to continue until we graduate from the stupid place.” Izuna sighed, leaning back as the firelight danced shadows across the room. Silence rang between them as he waited for her anger to boil over, knowing her anger and its waves.

“You know how Madara still hasn’t been able to fully develop his sharingan yet?” he asked after a while, when she was calmer and less likely to lash out.

“Yeah.” Izumi eyed him. “He won’t stop complaining about it.”

“Well…you sound just like him.”

“Izuna–” She spun around, affronted by the comparison.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t compare me to him! That’s not helping!” She groaned, pressing her palms against her eyes. There was a pressure growing behind them she didn’t like, tried her best to push back down. Whenever her emotions got the best of her, they would ache painfully and she didn’t have the comfort of her own room to dwell on the reason.

“All I’m saying is that he’s still strong, right?”

“Well, yeah, he’s Madara – he’s a certified genius,” she grumbled, “and he loves to rub it in our faces.”

“No, he doesn’t, you’re just annoyed at him right now.”

“Of course I am – he yelled at me for trying to follow him! It’s not my fault he’s disappearing off to god knows where when Father was out looking for him!” She fell back onto the wooden floor, her back making a loud thump as she stretched her limbs out in a spread-eagle style. She didn’t have to see her brother to know Izuna was rolling his eyes at her antics beside her. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You can’t even see me.”

“I know you did it.”

She just let herself lay there, Izuna poking her with the end of his bokken and her halfheartedly swatting it away from her as she tried to relax. This went on for a little while until she finally gave up, opening her eyes with a yawn, stretching her arms above her.

“Can we go back now?” Izuna’s head popped into sight. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“You can go back if you want.” All of her appetite was gone, ruined by the disastrous match. “I’m not hungry.”

“Arata’s gonna be mad if you don’t eat.”

“Yeah, well, good thing he’s not here.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I didn’t know that.”

She furrowed her brows. “He didn’t tell you?” He shook his head before popping out of her sight. “Ugh, fine, let’s get something to eat then.”

“We can come back tomorrow! We can practice the katon jutsu beforehand.”

“I’d rather practice throwing shuriken instead–”

“But Father will be impressed with how far we’ve progressed with the fireball, don’t you think?” He crossed his eyes, patting his brows. “I feel like I almost burned off my eyebrows last time.”

Once they put their gear away, they walked through the dark down the dirt path that connected the private dojo reserved only for the head family and their guests toward their home.

“Is Hideaki not back from his first mission yet?” Her brother’s best friend of nearly four years, who he met at a terakoya when he first started going to school, had become a staple friend of Izumi’s as well. While nowhere near as close as Yuji or Kazuyo, she still trusted Hideaki, having fun while he was hanging around.

Izuna’s head flew to hers, eyes wide with worry. “No! He was supposed to be back yesterday but I haven’t heard anything back from him. Do you think he’s okay?”

She forced a smile. “You’re worrying too much – he’s probably fine. It isn’t his first mission, he just did some sort of message delivery, right?” He frowned but stayed silent. “Actually, you know what, do you think Father’s going to send us on our first mission soon?” Many in their class had begun to get their first assignments – and some were even getting their second – and while the two were far from being the last, it was beginning to make the twins nervous. They were starting to feel left out, and the strange whispers from the other shinobi were beginning to reach even their ears about how they were weak, incapable of shouldering the weight of the Head Family title.

“I hope so,” Izuna grumbled in a manner eerily similar to Izumi. Once they reached their home, they quickly headed off to their rooms to get dressed for dinner. As she walked down the hallway, she nearly missed the light shining from Katsumi’s room, only a sliver of light escaping from the bottom. If she hadn’t been looking down, she would have missed it completely.

Frowning, she blinked a few times, thinking that maybe she was seeing things – but when she heard a sniffle from inside the room, she froze.

That was…

She hesitated to barge in so she knocked a few times, announcing herself. When she didn’t hear anything back in response, she slowly opened the door and saw Arata in the corner, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

“Arata?” She quickly closed the door behind her. “What are–”

“I’m fine,” her eleven-year-old brother mumbled. His voice was somewhat nasally and his blotchy cheeks with tear-soaked lashes did nothing to hide the fact that he had been crying in their older brother’s room.

“I don’t think so.” She sat beside him, close enough that they weren’t touching but her presence could be felt. “Did something happen?” Arata sniffled, leaning his head on the wall beside him. He chose the furthest corner of Katsumi’s room, where no natural light would shine into it.

“...I killed someone.” Her body went cold, eyes widening the slightest. She watched her brother from the corner of her eyes, could clearly tell how unwell he seemed. He squeezed his eyes shut but the tears still leaked out. “I killed someone for the first time yesterday and I can’t stop thinking about it. Someone who had a family, someone who could’ve been a brother, a son–” Izumi shifted until she was pressing her shoulder into his, and like sand he quickly crumbled from the warmth, small sobs escaping. “I couldn’t”—he hiccuped a few times—“I just c-couldn’t let Madara or Father see me like this, not when they think I’m so weak already,” he admitted, voice so small that it was in contrast to the strong person she knew.

Izumi didn’t really know how to respond. She had just been talking about missions with Izuna earlier, wanting desperately to show her Father that she would be worthy of calling herself an Uchiha shinobi, but even to her young mind, it didn’t escape her that she would soon have to confront the realities of being a soldier in war. She’d have to kill someone eventually, that would be inevitable, so she tried not to think too much about it.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” she said quietly. Arata opened his eyes and saw her watching him. He wiped away the tears with his palm, perking up the slightest at her words.

“...Really?”

She firmly nodded her head. “Really. You always give me pointers in my kenjutsu – I always lose to Izuna but every time I’ve landed a hit, it’s because of you!” She smiled. “I never think you’re weak.” If he was taken aback, he didn’t show it, rather watching her like how their father would observe them all.

“Thanks,” he mumbled a few seconds later. He shifted around until he was sitting with his legs crossed, back slumped forward as he looked around Katsumi’s room.

Most of it was left unchanged, only the storm shutters had been opened up after Izumi bothered Tajima enough that he relented. Since then, a housekeeper would come in and dust the room and swipe the tatami floors, but otherwise, everything remained untouched.

His room was a time capsule, a glimpse into a child’s room. Who was once their older brother, now Arata was a year older than Katsumi would ever be and in a blink of an eye, Izumi would soon catch up. Yet, it didn’t change the fact that Katsumi would forever be their older brother, his room the closest thing when they needed him most.

“Why didn’t you talk with Madara?” she asked. She was fiddling with a string on her hakama pants, slightly lost in thought. Arata shot her a look. “He wouldn’t–”

“Because he’s an ass–”

“Hey, that’s a bad word–”

“S-Shut up! He’s just”—Arata threw his hands up in frustration—“I don’t know what his problem is right now but he won’t ever listen to me and he’s never here! And whenever he is, he just nags about what I need to do – fix this, Arata or you’re doing it wrong, Arata.”

“...Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry?” He ended up making an incomprehensible sound before shooting up.

“Anyways, I’m fine now.” She noted the slight tremors in his hands but kept silent.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He sniffled again. “I’m going back to my room so…leave me alone.” He took a look at her, the hard gaze softening just the slightest before his hand darted forward, landing heavily on her head. He ruffled her hair despite her protests before walking away, and while there was still a slump to his shoulders that she assumed wouldn’t go away anytime soon–

“He’s hurting, don’t you think?” Haru’s face suddenly appeared and Izumi nearly screamed. Her heart rattled the cages of her chest, all the air in her lungs escaping from the shock. “I mean, killing someone can’t be easy.”

Izumi backed herself as far as possible into the corner. She refused to respond to Haru whenever he appeared in front of her, unwilling to cross that line to communicate with a ghost. She shut her eyes, began counting to ten because that always helped center her in moments of high stress, but Haru continued to pester her whether he was real or not.

This wasn’t working.

After bracing herself, she scrambled to her feet and bolted out of the room. Thankfully, the ghost remained stuck in Katsumi’s room this time, one dead boy haunting another dead boy’s room, his taunts simply echoing through the dark hall.

She threw open her bedroom door and slammed it shut, ignoring the way that the force of the impact rattled her bones. She was borderline hyperventilating, unable to catch her breaths while feeling as though her chest was going to explode – that her beating heart was on the verge of bursting out of her chest.

Black dots began to scatter throughout Izumi’s vision and so she crawled into her futon, throwing the thick duvet over her head as she curled into herself. Clenching her eyes shut and tightening her arms around her head. Everything’s going to be alright, she could imagine Katsumi saying, his soft tone a balm for her nerves. It helped as long as it could until the pressure behind her eyes became downright excruciating – it was a roaring of her blood, a million ants attempting to crawl out of her skin to escape as all she could hear was the continuous pounding of her heart. She pressed her balled fists against her eyes but that did little to help the aching but she didn’t want–

She was crawling out of her blankets and on the floor, on her hands and knees as she finally reached her mirror–

Fully opened her eyes and she already knew–

Scarlet red eyes would be staring back in horror, blood stained and cursed, a scream growing in her chest at the inability to control–

“O-One,” she stuttered, both palms pressed along the sides of her face.“Two.” The pressure began to loosen its stranglehold. “Three.” She imagined the roaring river beginning to settle, the waters calming, the flows steadying with every breath.

By the time she reached ten, she was back in control, over herself and her emotions. No longer did a sharingan stare back at her but rather dull brown eyes, a shutter hiding her biggest secret – that she had, in fact, awakened her sharingan. Her father was right and that–

That–

She wanted nothing to do with these eyes. The last thing imprinted in her memory, cursed to recall with clear details she didn’t want, was Katsumi’s death. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes were scarlet red as he reached for her–

No, she told herself, closing her eyes. No, she couldn’t go back there because she’d get lost in the memory, too afraid of the consequences of an awakened dōjutsu.

Deep breaths. And when she opened her eyes once more, her own face watched her, silent in its judgment.

0O0

Izumi had been walking through the engawa of her house, the open corridor letting in the nice early summer breeze. The humidity of the midsummer weather hadn’t reared its ugly head just quite yet and although that muggy and heavy air was just over the horizon, today was still a comfortable one, cool and breezy.

Too bad I’m wearing this stupid kimono, she thought, pulling at the obi that was tied a little too tightly around her midsection. She couldn’t even enjoy the nice temperature because she was being suffocated under the several layers she was practically manhandled into wearing today.

She was attempting to keep her steps light on the hardwood floor, careful to avoid the squeaky planks. Her father was hosting important guests today. While her presence wasn’t necessary, she was still to keep up certain manners on the off chance she met said guests, whoever they were.

Hence, the formal kimono.

She may have been nosy at first and pestering her father about what this meeting was about, but ultimately she was told to stop bothering him and kicked out of his office. She didn’t really care, though, knowing that a meeting that had something to do with Madara meant she was out of her depth.

She’d find out later if it was really that important.

“How dare you!”

Right as she was about to turn a corner, a loud commotion. It stopped her in her tracks and she froze, hands mid-swing. She waited for a few seconds, straining her hearing, but whoever had responded was doing it in too quiet of a voice – and so Izumi, too curious for her own good, took softer steps to inch forward until she reached the edge of the corner, the hushed voices now uncontained and growing louder with every passing second.

“–given Tajima-sama my answer, Mother.”

Now that was a familiar voice she hadn’t heard in a little over three years. She snuck her way closer to the edge, turning her head just enough until she saw–

Hitomi and two strangers. Her parents, she assumed, as the teen looked like a perfect mixture of the older adults. Both had the tanned skin that indicated fieldwork, weathered by the sun and the outdoor elements, and she quickly recalled that Hitomi wasn’t from the main compound but rather the outer ones bordering the edge of Uchiha territory.

“You–” There was a choked sound from the older woman as she had a finger in Hitomi’s face. “You are bringing shame and embarrassment onto this family–”

Her mother, much smaller in stature, was red-faced as the anger radiated off her in waves. Hitomi, on the other hand, was clearly refusing to back down, jaw set as she continued being yelled at. Izumi was only able to catch parts of the heated argument but still managed to grasp the core of the accusations – they had been the guests her father was hosting today, there had been a conversation about marriage, and a rejection of said marriage.

Oh, Madara was not going to like that. She knew it was customary for the clan heir to have started arrangements for the future and the conversations that had been coming up for her brother – but the last person she thought her father would reach out to was Hitomi.

“Look at what you’re doing to us–”

The teen kept her hands at her side but was clearly growing frustrated, struggling to keep her voice down despite her father’s pleas. “He’s fifteen–”

“And he’s going to be the next clan head, you fool! It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t be married until he reached of age! You could’ve been his wife–”

“Absolutely not.” Hitomi’s face was growing increasingly flushed in a manner similar to her mother, furiously shaking her head. The kanzashi in her hair whipped around, the hair accessories tangling with the hair escaping from its clip. “I refuse. I can’t–”

“Can’t or won’t, you selfish girl?” Her mother whirled back around. “You had the opportunity to raise us up, to bring us into the Main Compound instead of having us stuck in the outskirts. It’s even rarer that we’re allowed access to the Inner Compound and you throw it all away? Have you no shame?” A hand pressed against her brow, she barked out a laugh of disbelief, finding nothing amusing. “What about us? Or your brother?”

At the mention of her sibling, Hitomi’s face hardened. “Don’t bring Kaede into this.”

“You brought him into it by rejecting Tajima-sama’s offer.”

“Why can’t you understand that I’m a shinobi, Mother, not some doll to be paraded through town in a fancy kimono and makeup? Don’t be foolish – we all know I don’t have the capabilities of being the proper wife for a clan head, I’d only embarrass–”

Izumi saw it coming from a mile away and she was sure that Hitomi had too, but she did nothing to stop her mother from backhanding her. Her head flew to the side, a hand flying up to cover her cheek, eyes wide in shock. The woman’s chest was heaving with a mixture of anger and frustration.

“Go back in there and grovel,” her mother hissed. “Kiss Tajima-sama’s feet if you have to, but you will march yourself back into the room and with a dogeza, apologize for this gross misjudgment. Do you hear me? You’ll accept the proposal. It is an honor.”

Hitomi had remained frozen on the spot, head bent from being slapped, but at the mention of prostrating herself, her eyes flew up. There was a mixture of anger and disbelief, within that a burning emotion that Izumi was taken aback from witnessing. Even the rage that had taken over her mother seemed to dim in the face of Hitomi’s sudden but silent rage.

A few seconds of tense silence passed until her father, who had been quiet this entire time, pushed the older woman to the side and stood in front of Hitomi. “We can still make this work,” he pleaded in a softer voice, “do as your mother said and maybe they’ll–”

“No,” Hitomi, keeping a hand on her face, hissed. “It’s a prison. I’d sooner die than marry him.”

“You insolent child–”

“Child?” She bared her teeth and her mother’s eyes widened. Was it from the rudeness of the gesture or the cold rage that her daughter was exuding? “If I’m a child then what are you? I’ve gone to war, to fight to make sure you’re all safe, that Kaede is safe. We all know he doesn’t have the skill or body to be a shinobi, so you should be thankful that I’m the one on the front lines against the Senju. Not you, not Father, and not him.” There was something crazed about Hitomi now, the whites of her eyes a little too visible, the quiet chuckling in the face of all that had happened. “You made sure of that, remember?”

Her father paled at the words and Izumi didn’t know why, not having the full context of Hitomi’s relationship with her family. Clearly, there were deeper emotions at play now. “Hitomi–”

“No.” She swiped at the hair that kept falling into her face and in a moment of frustration, she ripped out the kanzashi, the hair accessory gripped tightly in her hand. “Regardless, I’m a shinobi first and foremost, no matter what anyone says. I will choose if I ever marry, I will choose the path I take.”

“...Then you are no daughter of mine,” her mother hissed. Out of all things for her to say, it seemed as though Hitomi hadn’t expected that because her face fell with immediate heartbreak. The older woman stormed off, taking no heed of the broken shards of their shattered relationship crumbling beneath her heavy steps, too heated by her emotions to feel the weight of those words.

A few seconds before Izumi heard a heavy sigh. “She doesn’t mean it, you know that. She’s just worried and means well–”

“Don’t make excuses for her,” Hitomi muttered, looking down at her feet. Her shoulders had fallen as a hand was still pressed where her mother had hit her. “Because if she really meant well, she’d know that being married would’ve been a death sentence for me.”

“...I know,” her father admitted quietly. “Just…” He looked tired, as if the argument had aged him a full decade, the wrinkles around his mouth deepening. Strange silence permeated the air, the tension still lingering despite the quiet. “I would stay away from the house for a while, alright? Seeing you will only make things worse.”

Hitomi’s head flew up, disbelief and anguish in her sudden cry. “What? Father–”

“Please.” A hand up in the air, the man refusing to meet her eyes. “...There’s been enough embarrassment today.” And with that, he followed after his wife, leaving behind his daughter to weather the weight of his words and the outcome of today’s events alone.

Izumi practically threw herself back around the corner, pressing herself into the wall with a hand over her mouth, heart racing at the shock from the turn of events. She knew she had intruded on a conversation she had absolutely no right to have heard.

There was a shifting of gravel and a thud of the wooden floor. Then, quiet sobbing.

Oh no, Hitomi was crying.

Izumi didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to intrude on what was clearly a private moment because it would’ve been obvious she had eavesdropped on the conversation. But as the quiet cries continued, anxiety and guilt pushed against each other until growing sick of her indecision, Izumi impulsively pushed herself off the wall. She made sure to stomp her feet as she practically leaped out from the corner she had hidden behind – practically notifying the entire house where she was – and it did the job. The older teen, now sitting along the edge of the engawa, whipped around at the sudden noise, eyes brimmed with tears.

“O-Oh, I”—Hitomi fumbled with herself, nearly falling in her haste to slide on her sandals and stand up—“Izumi-sama.” She bowed deeply, trying to smooth the wrinkles of her kimono. “You’ve c-caught me at a bad time,” she said, stumbling over her hiccups.

“Hi, Nee-san!” Izumi forced a smile, knowing it was more of a grimace than anything. She hesitated to kneel close to where Hitomi had been sitting but after a few seconds, the teen slowly sat back down, hastily wiping away the tears. “Are you okay?” she quietly asked.

“Yes, of course,” Hitomi lied, even if it was obvious to everyone that she wasn’t. “…Did you hear the argument?” The teen wasn’t looking at her, instead staring absentmindedly at the hair accessory she still held in her lap.

Izumi briefly thought about lying but… “Sorry.” She, too, looked down, admitting her guilt. “I didn’t mean to.”

Hitomi shook her head quite confidently, sniffling as she was regaining control over the tears. “It’s okay.” No, it wasn’t okay, but she couldn’t really force Hitomi to say otherwise. “I knew the risk when I said no.”

“Still.” There was an awkward pause before she continued. “You were asked to marry my brother?”

Although nasally, Hitomi’s voice was clear. “I didn’t know until today that Tajima-sama sent a letter to my parents about a potential marriage arrangement. Out of all things for them to do, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Wait, your parents didn’t tell you?”

That was terrible.

A shrug. “They knew I’d reject the offer. They thought that if it was sprung on me, I wouldn’t say no.”

“But…you did say no.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Izumi didn’t know how to feel about her response. On one hand, as a member of the Head Family, her immediate reaction to the rejection was to feel offended – because how could she not? Madara was, well, Madara. He was her eldest brother and someone she respected immensely, only a step below her father. In her eyes, there was almost nothing he couldn’t do. And as Hitomi’s mother said, he was also going to be the next Clan Head – that had to have counted for something, right?

And…she liked Hitomi – the teen was someone she had nothing but respect for as well, looking up to her as a kunoichi.

“Oh.”

Hitomi sighed, almost as if she knew where Izumi’s train of thought had gone. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me but I meant no disrespect to you and your family, Izumi-sama.” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking off into the distance. “I just…I can’t marry Madara-sama because I know it’d be disastrous for all of us. I couldn’t even fathom being a wife in a common household, let alone the Head Family household. The duties and responsibilities that’d be asked of me...” she shook her head, “I wouldn’t know half the things I’d need to do.”

“It can’t be that bad–”

“I mean no disrespect but listen, you’re young and Tajima-sama’s daughter, that affords you privileges.” Izumi stopped talking and kept silent, and in the one-sided awkwardness she felt, she shifted around until her feet dangled over the wooden floor, an inch above the dirt ground. “Most of the typical obstacles that had prevented me from any sort of choice were waived due to necessity when my sharingan manifested. But my dōjutsu changed the trajectory of my whole life, Izumi-sama, in ways that I am so grateful for. It gave me access to the training that permitted me to become a kunoichi, and even that was met with reluctance by most of my teachers.” Hitomi’s jaw clenched. “As shinobi, we’re trained how to become soldiers and weapons for the clan, not the essentials to run a household as a wife. But for most civilian women, they train how to be a wife, how to take care of a household to marry into a family, because to do otherwise is to risk being a burden to their parents.”

How was Izumi supposed to understand the deeper meaning behind marriage arrangements when all she knew was a basic understanding of the political world around her? No one had ever said anything like this to her before because, for the most part, she was spared the pressure and knowledge in large due to her father.

“My identity as a shinobi, as a kunoichi, is the most important thing to me.” Hitomi looked off in the yard, eyes unfocused as she thought of her next words. “...If I get married, all of my hard work is gone. I’d just be someone’s wife and then after, someone’s mother. What of my accomplishments, what of my dreams? Because the truth of the matter is that I’ll never be allowed a shinobi’s life if I get married. Maybe you’re too young to understand what that would feel like, what that would mean, but being able to choose this…it’s important because so much has already been taken from me.”

“Would it be so bad to be with my family?” Izumi couldn’t help but ask, her voice hesitant. “Aniue wouldn’t–”

Hitomi finally turned to look at her, a soft understanding smile gracing her face. “Being a part of your family and becoming the Uchiha Matriarch would’ve been the greatest honor, but it’s an honor I wouldn’t ever be able to fulfill. That weight? The pressures of becoming the clan head’s wife? It’s too heavy for me to bear. I wouldn’t be able to be the proper partner that someone of that standing needs for the clan’s future. It’d be a disservice to us all and I’m not selfish enough to accept a marriage of this magnitude while knowing my own flaws. That’s why I can’t accept the marriage offer.”

Izumi didn’t know how to feel at those words, a strange mixture of sadness and shame running through her as she felt almost…chastized by Hitomi. She was lucky, she then realized, that her father had even allowed her to train to become a shinobi. To his knowledge, she didn’t have their clan’s dōjutsu despite how heavily he hinted at it, because it was a secret that remained guarded close to her chest in fear of…something. She wasn’t quite sure what she was really afraid of, just that–

The realization hit her like a katon jutsu to her chest, nearly taking all the breath out of her. She wanted to prove herself as a shinobi first. She didn’t want her eyes to be the reason why she was accepted – she wanted to be accepted due to her abilities, of her capabilities of being a soldier just like her brothers. Not because of the crutch and excuse that an awakened sharingan would give her.

Up until now, she hadn’t realized just how difficult it was for other girls to become a kunoichi, not without a sharingan to rely on. She had been blinded by Kazuyo’s attendance at the terakoya, not realizing that they were the outlier, not the norm.

“I don’t know what the future has in store for you, Izumi-sama. I just hope that…” Hitomi’s voice drifted off as dark brown eyes studied her. “I just hope that you’re given choices I wasn’t. That if you become a shinobi, it’s because you want to, not because you’re forced to. While most kunoichi aren’t given a choice when we become a shinobi, I was given an option to stay as one and that’s something I do choose.”

Hitomi slid on her sandals and stood up, smoothing her kimono. Upon closer look, Izumi knew what had felt off about her this entire time – it was how the teen had been carrying herself. Until this very moment, she had tried to make herself smaller, which was by no means a small feat as Hitomi towered over most people Izumi knew. No, now, her back was straight and what had been anxiety written all over her face had shifted into acceptance over the heavy decision, the worry now having settled.

Once again, Izumi was awestruck.

Hitomi winked, as if she had read her mind. “I do praise your father for allowing you to train to be a shinobi, you know? There are more girls in training right now than ever before thanks to you.”

“Me?” Izumi shook her head, brows furrowed in disbelief. “There’s no way–”

“You, the clan head’s daughter, chose to become a shinobi without a sharingan. You don’t think that sends a message?” Hitomi raised a brow. “The amount of girls without a dōjutsu currently going through training has risen. Even if you didn’t know, I’m sure Tajima-sama is well aware of it, and it’s thanks to you.” At this, she flushed, cheeks burning, and Hitomi laughed. It echoed throughout the yard, cleansing the dark aura from what had occurred earlier. “It was nice seeing you again after all this time, Izumi-sama. I look forward to the day we’ll be side by side on the battlefield, proving everybody wrong.” And with that, a formal bow to end the conversation. She took her leave quickly thereafter, leaving Izumi alone.

The entire encounter flashed through her as she sat there, doubt and dejection still lingering uneasily in her stomach along with a fresh wave of embarrassment. She still found herself…offended, yes, that Hitomi had turned Madara down in a potential marriage arrangement.

Because she felt rejected.

A strange emotion at that realization because it wasn’t as though she were the one who had just gotten turned down. But it was the nature of family, of Hitomi’s unwillingness to join her as an older sister.

But that was wrong. She knew now.

In Hitomi’s explanation, she understood. Sure, she was halfway to ten, but she wasn’t blind to the difference in how she was being treated versus her twin brother, the singling out by the terakoya teachers or the Elders. Her desire of wanting to be seen as a shinobi was one she had held ever since she was five being denied the option of training with her brothers all those years ago.

“Izumi?” She tilted her head up as Tajima looked down, a comical perspective on her end. Ah, there was his infamous brow raise too. “What are you doing here?” He wasn’t wearing his typical garb but a formal kimono, she noted. Just like her.

She thought about how to answer for a few seconds before shrugging her shoulders. “I was just sitting here. I heard that Aniue’s marriage contract didn’t go through.” She had expected anger but Tajima only sighed wearily, walking around until he sat beside her, legs crossed rather than hanging over the engawa like hers was.

“Yes. If we’re being honest, I expected the rejection.” A pause. “Your brother, unfortunately, did not.”

She jerked to the side. “You expected Hitomi-neesan to say no?”

“Of course I had hoped she’d say yes.” He scratched at his chin, clearly in thought, before he slid his hands into his sleeves. “But she also has the potential to become one of the clan’s strongest kunoichi. Her potential to rise up through the ranks is obvious to anyone paying attention and she clearly knows it too. If she were to accept Madara’s proposal, she’d lose all of that.” He stayed watching the sunset, the oranges clashing with the reds of the late fall sky, a blaze of fire streaking through the sky as the sun began its descent. “While your mother understood that and was willing to marry me regardless, I don’t see Hitomi doing the same.”

Izumi frequently forgot that her mother, the late Uchiha Matriarch, was once a kunoichi. She had hung up her kunai and naginata to marry her father for civilian life, but now after speaking with Hitomi, she couldn’t help but wonder how her mother had truly felt about it. If she ever regretted this decision.

“I can’t help but be intrigued by her potential. I guess we’ll just have to see now if she has the strength to persevere and fight her way to the top now.”

There was comfort in her father’s words, the lack of judgment at the teen’s refusal to join their family. “So you’re really not angry at her, then?”

Tajima shook his head. “No. Maybe a little disappointed because I did reach out to her parents as a preferred bride, thinking that someone who could match Madara would be nice, but her rejection was blunt.” In rare fashion, he rolled his eyes to which Izumi snorted at. “Between us, I think your brother needed that. I’ve tried to keep you all aware of your status within the clan but also to not abuse your positions within it, and while Madara has been nothing but an ideal heir, I think he has his moments. He’s been coddled by the Elders and the Council too much to my liking.”

At that, Izumi couldn’t help the eye roll. Tajima gently pushed her shoulder as he began to huff, which soon shifted into a quiet laughter. That soon drifted off until it was just the two of them sitting, the quiet trickling of the shishi-odoshi in the background, the bamboo shoot filling with the quaint trickling before tipping over, dumping the water back into the fountain.

A hectic day ending quietly, the sun disappearing over the horizon to welcome the full moon and her eternal watch over the night.

Later, after dinner and avoiding a grumpy and embarrassed Madara, Izumi, as usual, was in Izuna’s room, resting her head on her knees as she stared absentmindedly out of her brother’s window.

She couldn't shake the anxiety that Hitomi's words had sparked in her; it ignited a fear, a slow burn that had been strengthening, little by little, from the moment she made the life-altering decision to become a shinobi. Every decision she had made up to this point had only contributed and now it was burning in her chest. It was a fear of being overlooked, of being forced to become something she wasn't – and despite her father’s reassurances, she failed to extinguish the doubt, the uncertainty that hissed to her in the back of her mind.

And then adding onto this weight was that one secret she kept with her always, nearly causing her to buckle beneath all the thoughts and fears she carried. Keeping her dōjutsu from Izuna felt…wrong.

“You’ve been just as grumpy as Madara tonight,” Izuna complained from his desk.

“Yeah, well, I’ve just got some things on my mind.”

“Like what?” He moved to sit behind her, his own back pressed against hers. “C’mon, tell me.”

“No.”

“C’mon–”

“Izuna–” He continued to push into her and in a moment of frustration, she shot up, looming over him as he fell onto his back with a muffled thud and a yelp. “That’s what you get for not listening to me.”

“Whatever.” He stayed where he was, arms out, as he rolled his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

She froze, blood going cold. “...What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugged, his hair getting into his eyes. “I don’t know what your secret is but it’s something big, isn’t it? Why won’t you tell me?” He sounded…hurt. “Is it cause you don’t trust me?”

“Of course not!” She sat beside him and had the sudden desire to poke and bother him, but she knew that it was just her trying to avoid the inevitable. “…You’re right,” she finally admitted. She would trust him because if she couldn’t, then who could she ever trust?

Izuna lit up, head lifting off the floor. “You’re serious?” Slapping a hand against his chest, he vowed, “You know I’ll keep your secrets, just like you keep mine.”

She rolled her eyes but at least it brought a small smile to her face. “What I’m going to tell you, you’ll think it’s wrong. Just, don’t be upset, okay?”

He scrambled to sit up until they were sitting in front of each other. “I don’t know about that–”

It was either now or never. She wouldn't have the courage if she continued to stall for more time. Channeling the chakra towards her eyes, there was that familiar sensation prickling until she reopened them. Her vision had sharpened, just like she knew it would, seeing everything in the room with an almost overpowering clarity that was borderline overwhelming. She could see her brother’s chakra flow, the agitation that spoke of his shock, but she trained her eyes on his face instead. His expression, that astonishment from the magnitude of her secret and its ramifications was etched forever in her memory.

For a moment, she couldn’t help that intrusive thought that crawled its way into her mind, a nasty voice intensifying the anxiety that he would resent her for having the sharingan – but when Izuna’s face softened in a way that spoke of understanding, the fears settled, having been unwarranted.

“When…?” For a brief moment, a pang of agony, of grief that would never go away hit them both. “No, never mind. But–”

“–Why won’t I tell anyone?”

“Well, yeah?”

She deactivated the dōjutsu, looking at their now entwined hands. “Because I need to prove that I can be a shinobi without it, that I’ve earned my spot as an Uchiha shinobi in the Head Family not because of the sharingan but because of me.”

His brows furrowed. “But if they know about your sharingan then they can’t keep you from being one, not like what they’re doing right now. If they know, they’ll have no choice but to let you train.”

Izumi winced, knowing her brother’s thought process. Because she understood where he was coming from, having briefly considered the same idea months ago. But at the time she had stubbornly come to the decision all on her own that she didn’t want to rely on the dōjutsu in her initial training.

Of course, her conversation with Hitomi today solidified this decision. Because that realization she never even considered before was that most of the kunoichi in the clan became a soldier only after their eyes awakened.

Never before.

She swore to be an exception. She wouldn’t allow her hard work to be brushed aside for the simple fact that she had an awakened dōjutsu – no, she would earn her position as a shinobi because of her hard work, because of herself.

So she explained all of this to Izuna, hoping he’d understand. While he didn’t really get it and tried to talk her out of this decision, ultimately he agreed to keep her secret and didn’t judge as harshly as he could’ve. Truth be told, that was all that truly mattered to her, his trust and his promise, because she knew that this was a heavy secret, practically blasphemous within the clan.

But he would keep it for her because he was Izuna, and that’s all that mattered.

0O0

“So how do you feel?”

Izumi readjusted the armor on her body, frowning at the tightness with which it was secured around her. “Weird,” she mumbled. Her face was mostly hidden by the typical funnel collar style tops that the Uchiha were famously known to wear throughout the land, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. “I feel like I can barely see, Arata.” In fact, she hated it.

In a sense, she must have looked comical. There were several servants around them bustling about as both she and Izuna were being measured and sized for new clothes along with a brand new set of armor as an extremely early gift – almost six months too early – for their tenth birthday. In the corner stood Tajima, speaking with a council member who had demanded an audience with him and the children.

Of course, it was just an excuse to speak with her father alone.

“Izumi,” Izuna hissed, slowly turning his head to her. His eyes were comically wide as a servant was tightening the first rendition of their armor around his chest. The bottom half of his face was, just like hers, hidden by the collar. “I can’t wear this.” If they were hard to tell apart before, the twins were carbon copies of one another now, practically indistinguishable to the normal person.

Izumi rolled her eyes, standing with her arms sticking out. “Yes, you can.”

“Izuna-sama, I implore you to stay still while we mark along the armor that needs to be adjusted.” Her brother continued to be scolded by the servants and armorer and he grumbled, returning back to the same position as they continued with their adjustments.

Madara stood nearby, a sullen look on his face as he read over a scroll in his hand before looking over Izuna again. He made quiet comments to the armorer, pointing at specific chinks around Izuna’s armpits, everyone scrambling around after his every word.

Her oldest brother didn’t even bother looking at her.

Arata, on the other hand, raised a brow when Izumi’s half-dead and bored eyes met his. There was a notable lack of…care surrounding her armor, blatantly obvious for all to see. She spent more time with the seamstress than Izuna with his tailor and it was only after her utter disinterest that an attendant had shoved the armor onto her. There was just a lot less hovering and concern over her feelings on the armor, clearly disregarding her opinions and wishes on the manner.

“Well?” he asked. She pursed her lips, giving up on trying to readjust the massive plate on her chest herself. The armor dug uncomfortably into her armpit, preventing her from making any full movement. A similar issue in Izuna’s armor – only, he was getting fussed over while she was basically on her own. Sure, there was a servant wrapping her legs, but that wasn’t really the point, was it?

“What’s the point of all the fuss?” she grumbled. Her twelve-year-old brother finally took mercy on her, coming over and helping retie the shoulders until they finally fit more comfortably, now taking a better look at the obvious changes that would need to be made to hers like Izuna’s.

“Because now you have to get used to the extra weight. Training’s all fun until you have this massive piece on you.” He poked the side of her head. “Gotta be safe, don’t you think? Even when you outgrow the armor, the style doesn’t really change.”

“Well, duh.” That’s why they trained with practice armor – even if it was just outgrown or broken armor from her brothers.

“Ow!” Izuna continued to complain beside her, enough so that Madara hissed something before turning to their father. Tajima was on the side, watching with amusement at Izuna’s antics before turning back to the Elder. He was clearly leaving the tailoring instructions to Madara.

Izumi rolled her eyes but when Izuna complained again, this time his hand hitting her arm, she batted off Arata and whipped around. “Will you stand still? Now you’re bothering me. You think I want to be in this armor? No! So will you please”—she narrowed her eyes—“stop moving.”

Wide eyes blinked owlishly at her before he slumped, a dramatic sigh his response. “You wound me!”

Arata snorted as he forced Izumi back to face him, ignoring the daggers she was staring at him now. “Alright alright, let me see your armor.” He began to retie the other shoulder while adjusting some of the smaller plates, small sounds of discontent at certain pieces that were obviously too small or too big on her. He looked around before his eyes landed on someone. He pointed a finger. “Hey, apprentice, come over here,” he demanded to the older teen hanging around the outskirts of the room. Said apprentice jumped at being called on but did exactly so, flipping through his notes to a blank page in his scramble toward them.

Izumi didn’t bother listening to their conversation, barely paying attention as Arata pointed out specific parts of her armor that needed to be fixed, just like how Madara was helping Izuna. While the actual armorer shot Arata a dirty look he remained tight-lipped, refocusing his disapproval by upping up his enthusiasm regarding Izuna’s armor.

Stupid.

“Am I getting kusazuri too? I feel like armored skirt plates are important.” She turned her head down, frowning at just the chest plate. She recalled the skirt plates that Arata occasionally wore. “Or do I get that later?”

The apprentice made some notes with an analytical eye, looked her up and down. “I think for now, we can stick with the chest plate and suneate. Those shin guards are one of the first things we create for shinobi, Izumi-sama.” He gave her a shaky smile, jotting something else down on the paper.

She nodded her head and after a little more time, Arata slapped her shoulder, jostling her out of her blank thoughts. “You should be good now! Daisuke-san said he’ll readjust the leather straps so the shoulder won’t dig in too much. The adjustments will fit much better.”

While staring at him, she raised her arms and did some small circles with her shoulders, face blank when the armor made the clanging noise she knew it would bumping against each other. “If you say so.” She sincerely doubted that anyone was going to actually care about her armor enough to do anything.

“You guess?” He scoffed. “Alright princess, now what’s wrong?”

Izumi looked away. “Nothing.”

“Izumi.”

“It’s just, we’ve done so much training already.” She was forced to make a wide sweeping motion due to the armor just so she could scratch her arm. She scowled at how frustrating she was beginning to feel. “When are we going to actually do something with that?”

Madara had clearly been eavesdropping, tilting his head when she had directed the question to Arata. “Soon. You need to adjust to the new armor and new weapons before Father will let you out on a mission.”

She groaned, shoulders falling slightly. “I guess.”

The corners of Arata’s eyes tightened at the sudden interruption but he kept up that false smile, turning her around to begin untying the armor. “Alright, I think that’s enough of that. Let’s take the plates off so they can make those readjustments.”

Izuna, on the other hand, was still getting measured so Arata dragged her over to their father, where she was then swiftly introduced to the bladesmith. Unlike the armorer though, the man was silent and only answered when necessary. It was nice, for once, to not feel so…judged. The grunts and uninterested tones didn’t change regardless of who spoke to him – even if it was her father. There was no sweet talk, no false praises and obnoxious flattery. He was direct and straight to business and even at her young age, she respected it.

“It’s customary for an Uchiha to receive a katana and wakizashi upon becoming a shinobi, Izumi,” her father began, “and regardless of whether or not the shinobi uses the set, it tends to be passed down generations. Some will receive a brand new set and some are given family heirlooms – which you know about.” She recalled the sword her brother currently carried around, recalling it was given to him by their father. “While each person is different and some are better suited for shorter blades or the longer polearms, it’s become customary to gift new swords to new shinobi. However,” a pause, a pointed look meant for her, “as a kunoichi, you are given the option between a naginata in lieu of a sword. Of course, whatever you choose, you’ll still continue with your kenjutsu.” There was that familiar firm gaze adding to the burden she had placed upon herself, the added pressure of not wanting to disappoint her father a weight in her choices. After a quick jerk of his head, the other man disappeared into the other room and quickly returned with a naginata, the polearm nearly double her height.

Izumi’s initial reaction was her entire body rebelling at the idea of wielding the weapon. It was beautiful in its design and she thought it to be a worthy weapon, yet the idea of even choosing it over a katana seemed so inherently wrong. It was impressive, there was no doubt about it, but in the back of her mind, she had always assumed that her weapon would be a sword and its smaller blade.

“It’ll take Masamune a few months of preparation before he begins creating you and Izuna a custom set,” her father said, interrupting her thoughts. “He studies your fighting styles and tries to create a weapon suited to each person who calls upon his services, so this won’t be one you’ll wield for some time, so it’s best to think this through, Izumi. Katana or naginata aside, whatever you choose will become your greatest ally and one of your greatest strengths, becoming an extension of you.”

“Yes, Father,” she said, digesting the lesson hidden underneath the brief lecture.

“Today is for introductions. Of course, if you believe you know what you want, though, that’s alright with me,” Tajima said.

She frowned the slightest, unsure if she was sure about making such a heavy decision right this moment, because what if–

She took another look at the polearm. Despite her inherent dislike for it, she forced herself to imagine wielding it in a battle against the Senju and their allies, swinging it alongside her father and brothers and…she hated it. It wasn’t for her – her blood sang for the sword, to swing the sharp steel of a katana down onto her enemies.

Before she could say this, Izuna was released from the shackles of Madara and the armorer and bounded over to her. There was a giddy smile that spoke of relief and excitement, and after another round of introductions, Tajima gave him a similar speech about weapons, only this time offering the katana rather than the different options given to her.

“Father,” Izumi called out while Izuna spoke with Masamune, “I choose the sword.”

He quirked a brow, curiosity in his gaze. “Oh?” When she gave him a firm nod, she swore there was a hint of pride in his eyes before he turned to look at the swordsmith. “Masamune, it seems as though my daughter has made her decision already.”

“I see.”

The weaponsmith directed his gray eyes onto her, eerily reminiscent of those blades he created, a steely sharpness to them that pierced right through her. She was nervous under the weight of his gaze, fearful that somehow she was making the wrong choice, but pushed through and said, “A sword, please.”

Izuna smiled beside her and Arata annoyingly ruffled her hair. The boisterous laughter was warm as she joined in on their joy. Her very own sword – she was already learning how to fight with one but to be able to call it her own, to learn how to carry it and how it would balance her? It was excitement beyond belief, a swelling of her chest at the pride coursing through her. As her father said, it would become her. An extension of her will to protect her loved ones and selfishly, the desire to prove all those who doubted her wrong.

She turned this bright smile to Madara, expecting to see the identical looks of joy, but rather found the corners of her mouth faltering at the sudden stormy look that crossed his face. He stood off at the side, arms crossed and watching them – and when his eyes met hers, all prior emotion was wiped off as he expertly hid the strange disapproval with a false smile. He joined in on the praise but she couldn’t stop thinking of how fake it was.

He had looked angry and upset and she couldn’t understand why.

0O0

“Izumi, have you seen Madara?”

She whipped her head up. Despite the brisk December air, her sweat-soaked hair was plastered to her face as she hastily straightened her back. She briefly bowed in lieu of a greeting, Tajima walking up the stone path to the house’s personal training yard. It was a well-used location by all the members of the head family and their friends; Izumi was occupying the grounds with her friends today, working on their ninjutsu and in particular, the katon jutsu for their rite of passage ceremony. While Yuji had opted to return home earlier, Kazuyo lingered around, leaving the two girls on their own.

“T-Tajima-sama,” Kazuyo addressed and unlike her, bowed deeply at the waist in respect.

Her father waved a hand and grunted, not really acknowledging her friend but not outright being dismissive either. It was a win in Izumi’s eyes, Tajima notoriously picky about who they brought around. In fact, he had verbally scolded someone Arata had brought along so badly that the boy had dropped her brother as a friend – and rumor had it he had given up on becoming a shinobi altogether.

“I haven’t seen Aniue today.”

Tajima frowned. “Tch.” Internally, she winced at the sound, knowing Madara’s future was now set in stone. Her father was annoyed and was making that noise a lot as of late, whether it was when Izumi failed to land a blow on him during training or the several arguments about Arata’s lack of a balanced sharingan. The only reason he had lessened the pressure on Arata was because of how severely injured her brother had gotten a few weeks prior during a scouting mission gone wrong.

Of course, it did nothing to change the fact that the sound was still tormenting the entire household particularly on the days their oldest brother decided to go off and disappear for hours without notice.

“I see. If you do happen to see Madara, do let him know I need to speak to him about something urgently.” After a thought, he then added, “And when Arata comes back with Izuna from his anma appointment, inform them as well.” Arata, still quite injured from that terrible mission, was currently at one of several anma clinics, hoping that the chakra-infused massages would help speed his healing. Izuna had simply tagged along in case something happened to their brother.

“I will.” Tajima hid his hands in his sleeves, watching her as she slowly became antsy from the sudden attention, and she could hear the gravel shifting below Kazuyo’s sandals. “Is…” Izumi flushed, looking down at her feet and telling herself she needed to stand still as well. “Is there something else?”

“...Your katon jutsu, how’s it faring?” He turned to the other girl. “And I hear you’re practicing the jutsu for the ceremony as well?”

“Y-Yes, Tajima-sama!” The two girls winced at the volume, her friend a little too enthusiastic in her answer. Thankfully, her father didn’t react. “I think I’ve gotten it down, sir,” she said, this time in a more controlled manner.

“That’s what we’ve been practicing all day, Father.” Izumi latched onto the question, smile true and bright. “The ball still isn’t hot enough to stay burning for more than a few seconds but I’ve gotten the size of the flame bigger. Kazuyo and I were just thinking about what to do.”

The typical harsh lines on Tajima’s softened as he placed a hand on top of her head. She reveled in the sudden warmth as it settled in her chest, the familiar fire of her father’s fondness enveloping her in a hug. “I see. So what have you two figured out about why the fire remains weak?” he asked with curiosity rather than judgment.

At this, her smile lost some of its shine, but she did nod her head. “We think we’re not using enough chakra.”

He ruffled her hair before returning his hand to his sleeve. He took a closer look at Kazuyo, turning those analytical eyes onto her friend “But…?”

But?

Kazuyo pursed her lips. “I don’t…”

Tajima simply watched and baited his time. “There needs to be a balance while using the jutsu. Too much chakra will render the katon unstable and dangerous for you and your allies, an uncontrollable blaze that can do more harm than good. And how about you, Kazuyo? How’s your katon in comparison?”

“I-I…” He raised a brow. Her friend flushed with the sudden attention from the clan head. Izumi frequently forgot that he wasn’t just her father but the leader of their clan, a position that meant a level of formality had to be kept that she didn’t have to abide by. Kazuyo would, of course, feel differently when his attention was directed onto her. “I’m also having the same issues as Izumi-sama,” she finally admitted. “But I believe with more control, we both will find uh, success in the ceremony, sir.”

But rather than lying, speaking the truth seemed to appease whatever he had been judging as he turned to them both. “I’ve said all I’ll say about this matter, then. Continue practicing and I’m sure the two of you will figure it out in due time.” Then, without saying anything else he walked away, leaving them alone.

A beat of silence before a sudden gasp beside her. “Oh god, I thought I was going to pass out,” Kazuyo blurted out.

“What?” Izumi yawned, rubbing her eye. “Why?”

“Why? That was your father!” Her friend crouched on the ground, hands on her head. “I don’t think I blinked once while he was talking.”

“...You do know he knows who you are, right? That you’re my best friend? I talk about you all the time.”

“That definitely doesn’t make me feel better and in fact, Izumi, I think it makes me feel worse.” She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I’ll never get used to talking to him.”

“You’re being dramatic.” She rolled her eyes before gently knocking her legs into her friend’s back. “Anyways, I think I need to find Madara before my father decides to make Arata his heir, so we might have to end practice. Is that okay?”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine. I think that was enough excitement for me today, thank you very much. Besides, I have to finish some homework before class tomorrow.”

Izumi helped Kazuyo pack up her stuff. After walking to the entrance gate of her home, she waved goodbye and waited until she couldn’t see her best friend anymore before beginning her search for Madara. She started with the obvious spots before gradually looking at the more obscure locations and it was only when she was crawling out of a very specific nook in the attic of their home that she caught sight of her oldest brother. She nearly fell down the set of stairs – which were definitely more ladder-like than stairs – as she scrambled after him. Practically chased him through their entire house, really, having to pause and take a quick break when she saw his back disappear into the mesh of trees behind their home, a forest that extended far into Uchiha territory and more.

It was also the same forest she hadn’t stepped a single foot into since her return home almost three years ago.

She silently cursed before taking fast but cautionary steps toward the outskirts of the trees. Her body stopped of its own accord, her heart beginning to race. Seconds passed as she just…stared, the winds rustling the naked trees. Despite the lack of leaves, the dark muted browns and gray further emphasized the dreadful nature of the forest, winter casting an eeriness to it that she rebelled at.

She knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her but she swore the darkness was gradually creeping closer, that the visible path forward was only stretching further and further away with every breath she took.

She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t go after Madara.

But at this thought, a pang of guilt. She couldn’t help but recall how angry her father was recently, the annoyance that even he was having trouble guarding from them at how often her brother went missing. Madara would disappear for hours upon hours without telling anyone where he was. These days, he couldn’t even be found in his preferred hiding spots in the dojo training or studying in the house library like before.

Sometimes it was fine, nothing urgent that required his attention. But other days, it could be time-sensitive. She could still remember the way her father had yelled at Madara a few weeks back, scolding him for not being where he was needed.

She didn’t want him to get into even more trouble.

Izumi tried to take one step forward, she really did. But the moment her foot crossed the threshold into the forest, her chest suddenly tightened, her ribs a cage of iron and trapping all the air in her lungs until they were about to explode. In a panic she practically threw herself back, stumbling a few steps, staring owl-eyed into the darkness of the trees. Heart pounding in her ears as she blinked furiously, calming the roaring of her chakra from flowing to her eyes where they pushed to go.

She–

She couldn’t do it.

I’m sorry Aniue, Izumi thought, running back to the safety of her home. The days after, she kept an eye on Madara, kept watching to see any signs within her brother from the strange disappearance into the forest, but nothing was amiss besides the guilt that followed her for being unable to shake off the terror that had barred her from entering the forest.

One evening, she was flat on her back attempting to catch her breath with Madara standing above her, watching her.

“You’re too strong,” she huffed between breaths, “I’ll never beat you.”

Her fifteen-year-old brother smirked. “Good. I’d be concerned if you did.”

She sneered at the smug attitude, swiping at his foot. In a manner eerily similar to their father, he cocked an eyebrow before easily stepping out of reach, to which she grumbled about as she stood back up.

“You’re a terrible teacher.” Her voice was as whiny as she felt, no longer wanting to continue this grueling training session that she regretfully had asked for. “You’re just torturing me now.”

“Stop being dramatic and try again.”

With said dramatic groan, she brought her hands back up, shifting her stance as she watched Madara. He didn’t make a sound to signal the start of the match. He was there one second, gone the next. While still slower than his typical speed, she was having trouble keeping up as he dodged every single one of her attacks. Every single move she could think of, whether it was prior knowledge or coming up with something on the fly, it’d be blocked with one hundred percent certainty.

At the end, when he grabbed her ankle while she had attempted a kick, she gave up. She went limp like a ragdoll and her brother even had the gall to laugh as he swung her around.

“Whether you believe it or not, you’re doing good,” he praised later as they sat outside of the training room. Her hakama was drenched in sweat while Madara, wearing those funnel-style tops, didn’t have a hair out of place. She was thankful for the winter air, the coldness doing wonders for how disgusting she felt. “Father’s training is working.” She scowled.

“Well, I wouldn’t know now would I?” She dragged a hand across her face, wiping off the excess sweat. “Other people in class have started mission assignments while Izuna and I are still cooped up on the compound.”

“This again?” A sudden darkness crossed Madara’s face that she would’ve missed had she not looked over. “It’s not…a bad thing, Izumi, to be a kid you know?”

She turned to face him. “How will I prove myself as a shinobi if I’m not out there fighting?”

An eerie stillness washed over him, one she didn’t quite understand. “...Is that what you want?”

She stayed silent, frowning. “Of course. I want to make Father proud, to make you proud – and what’s better than becoming a shinobi to honor that?”

Madara looked downright ill. Was she saying something wrong? She spoke the truth, didn’t she? She had reiterated what they were taught in class, that becoming a shinobi was one of honor for the Uchiha, to protect their clan and to fan the flames of their strength.

“Don’t you want to be with your peers and play games? To run around and not have to worry about the war?”

She contemplated this question, pulling a knee up to her chest. “I mean, I do that anyways? And the constant battles with the Senju…well, of course I’d rather not go but if it meant protecting the clan, I thought it was my duty to fight.” She couldn’t help but furrow her brows at his questions. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you asking me about all of this?”

Madara did something he had never done before – he panicked. A stuttering of words as he tried to come up with an excuse, something Izumi had never seen him do before. Even she was taken aback, jerking her head back in surprise.

“I just…” He groaned, slumping over. “Arata was injured pretty badly a few weeks ago and he’s still recovering. I couldn’t help but think what if, you know? I just, I got…scared.”

She didn’t want to hear him say this. He was her Aniue, her oldest brother, someone who was supposed to be one of the strongest people she knew. Similarly to her father, she didn’t want to hear him admit this, something that would shake her to her core.

“Well, he’s fine!” she tried to say cheerfully, although secretly admitting to herself that they all had been scared when Arata came back carried on a stretcher, wrapped in bandages like a mummy. His arm was still in a cast but after weeks of being bed-bound, he was now doing a lot better as he commuted to an anma specialist to aid his healing. “He’s practically healed now!”

“But what about next time?” As if the floodgates had opened, Madara whipped his head to her, uncharacteristically fearful. Eyes were wide and almost…crazed, and she curled into herself, only really able to watch her brother go on a rant. “What’ll I do if he’s hurt beyond anything we can do? If he dies? I can’t–”

“A-Aniue, don’t–”

“After Katsumi, I won’t be able to handle it, and then that got me thinking about peace.” Hands were thrown up in the air as he rambled, pacing aggressively across the wooden floor. “We don’t have any written proof of what started our war with the Senju, did you know that? We fight and fight and fight and for what? Why can’t we make peace with them, to stop the unnecessary bloodshed?” She fearfully looked around, hoping that no one was in earshot of his words because–

Because they were traitorous.

“Aniue, if anyone hears you saying this–”

“I’m tired, Izumi.” He scrubbed his face with a hand. “I’m tired of the fighting, of the war, of the constant stream of missions, battles, rest, and missions, battle, rest. The cycle’s exhausting and I keep seeing people dying–”

He continued his rant and even the words gradually became jumbled to Izumi, his voice muffled by the strange numbness that crept over her, she couldn’t help but stare worryingly, seeing a side to her brother she’d never seen before. First, it was the constant disappearances and now this – what was happening?

“You haven’t told Father any of this, right?” she interrupted. He came to a sudden stop.

“Of course not, I don’t have a death wish.” His shoulders suddenly slumped forward. He was watching her and she noticed the wariness that crossed his face, suddenly hiding the emotions that just a second ago had been on full display. “I’m just…I’m stressed, Izumi. I didn’t mean to dump this all on you. In fact, just ignore everything I just said, okay?”

“But–”

He turned his back to her and walked away, throwing a hand up in a nonchalant attitude. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Izumi was left alone in the chaos of the whiplash, the contrasting emotions pulling her every which way, leaving her stretched out beyond her capabilities. She fell back onto the floor, hair spilling out of her bun as she stared at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts.

She returned to her room a while later with a strange feeling and an even stranger ache in her head. She crawled into bed for a quick nap, hoping that it would help the headache pounding along to every beat of her heart – but as she closed her eyes, she could’ve sworn there was a strangely familiar voice reaching out to her as she fell asleep, pulled into a world unknown.

0O0

She opened her eyes.

The stream was calm. She stood in the middle, barely an obstacle to the clean waters washing all around her. It was cold and refreshing and all was well.

But where was she? Why was she here?

The cool water lapping gently at her feet grew and grew and grew, but she found herself rooted where she stood, the trickling steadily strengthening. No longer was the stream feeble and slow, now a raging river flowed in its place. The waves crashed around her as the water drained from where she stood, leaving a circle around her bone dry on the waterbed, sand and gravel shifting below her feet. The river was now split in two, her presence an obstacle in the water’s path. The currents slammed against the invisible barrier surrounding her but strangely, she felt no fear, only a strange calmness.

But off in the distance, identical figures stood.

To the left was…her brother?

She attempted to call out to Madara but had no voice, the roars of the turbulent waters drowning out her yells. She was powerless in the face of nature, unable to do anything as her brother abruptly swung his weapon – the same gunbai her father currently wielded – to point it at someone opposite him. The figure was too far away for her to make out, only a faceless blur, but behind them atop a tall pole was a white flag fluttering in the wind – a sign of surrender? But Madara held the Uchiha flag in his other hand. Donned in their clan armor, ready for battle.

She looked to the right where another version of her brother stood but rather than a weapon in hand, it was the faceless figure’s own, clasped in a friendly greeting, a smile gracing their face. And Madara looked…happy, at peace. He was content as he wore the clan’s casual funnel-style clothing, no weapon in sight.

She didn’t understand.

“The future in two paths, diverging with you.” That voice, it was familiar yet not, a shiver running through her at the deja vu that came over her. She whirled around and saw only herself reflected by the waters. “Your very existence creates a split, Izumi,” the doppelganger in the water said, “and you have the power to change everything.”

Her reflection studied her but a ripple caused a chain reaction, and the mirror image of herself suddenly dissipated in an explosion of bubbles. The river reared its ugly head and the barrier that had once protected her burst. She soon was quickly engulfed by the violent waves, swept away by the raging currents until she fell deeper and deeper into the never-ending darkness, her voice and cries drowned out by the heavy weight of the waters.

Chapter Text

“You ready?”

It was their tenth birthday. She and Izuna stood side by side in their brand-new armor, nerves alight with the anxiety of what she knew was one of the most important days for them.

Today was their Rite of Passage ceremony.

Today they would showcase not only to their father but to the Elders and the Council their mastery over the katon jutsu, signaling that they were now ready to fight for their clan as true shinobi.

She turned to Izuna, saw the hints of fear in the crinkle between his brows. She rolled her shoulder, readjusting the strap that dug into her shoulder, nerves alight with the attention directed at them. The two of them wore identical expressions of anxiety but after some deep breaths to calm their racing hearts, they nodded to each other. He gave her a shaky smile before taking a few steps away, leaving a significant amount of space between the two of them so that they could each properly perform the jutsu.

They had elected to do the katon jutsu together despite the recommendation of going separately. Even her father seemed confused by their decision to perform simultaneously. Still, she knew no one would understand that sense of comfort, a draw to each other that only their chakras could sense, an instinctual relief between them that sometimes they didn’t even realize until after.

Being together made them stronger, made them better.

One. Inhale. Two. Exhale. Three–

“Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

She didn’t have to look at her brother to know his hands were flying through the hand seals like hers, and with a molding of her chakra and the deepest breath she could take in, she released the warmth of the jutsu and watched, eyes alight with the flames of the katon. She watched the ball of fire grow and grow, the pride blooming in her chest as it grew larger and larger the more she pushed herself into it. The orange and red hues danced on her face, the shadows deepening momentarily as the flames soared through the air, visual proof of her desires came to life.

While Izuna’s katon was nearly identical to hers in size and strength, it was clear that hers was just a tad bit stronger. The two already knew, though, and it didn’t bother either of them. Yet, as she cut off the chakra to the jutsu, despite the clappings and words of encouragement by those all around her she saw the judgemental looks thrown her way. Even caught the hushed whisperings of a poor Izuna.

They were…pitying her brother.

She kept her smile up despite the sudden and unexpected judgment, and even when Izuna launched himself at her while shouting in excitement about their new status, it did little to mitigate the sudden fear that had planted itself in her mind – because despite all that hard work, the long long hours of practice to prove herself, those eyes that burned with disgust, that shunned her new label as a shinobi was all she could think about.

“I’m proud of you two,” Tajima announced, standing before them. “My youngest children, now shinobi!” Despite the typical harsh lines on his face, she found that there was a fond smile on his face for everyone here to see. Izuna practically melted under the praise and she found herself relaxing the slightest, but when her eyes met with an Elder in the back, she couldn’t help the flinch that escaped her control – the man looked at her with such blatant disgust it was shocking that she wasn’t combusting where she stood under that burning glare.

“Izumi?” She turned, saw Izuna watching in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

She faked a laugh before wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Nothing! I’m just really happy!”

Another lie to add to the others until one day, she knew she was going to crumble beneath the weight into nothingness.

0O0

The preceding days that followed: she woke up, early training with her brothers, went to her last few days at the terakoya, came home to study and spar some more, ate, slept.

Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

She had known that the moment she passed the rite, her time being stuck on the compound was coming to a close. Her father was now required to send them out on missions, to ease them into the battles that they had been training for – yet as the weeks passed, despite his promises, none of that came to light.

Izuna had told Kazuyo all of this over lunch one afternoon during class, complaining about their lack of missions, but the older girl could only shrug her shoulders. She had gotten to go on a simple delivery mission a few weeks prior, having none of the same issues as Izumi and Izuna, which only confirmed to them that their father was holding them back from their duty.

“I don’t know why,” Kazuyo mumbled, her mouth full of food. She took a second to swallow before continuing. “After my rite, the temple got notification of my mission about a week later.”

“I’m telling you, Father’s blocking the missions,” Izuna complained. Izumi sat and listened, propping up her chin with a band as her elbow rested on her desk.

“It’s probably because of Arata,” she brought up.

They all frowned.

Their older brother was still healing from his disastrous mission a few months ago. The anma sessions were very slowly – but surely – healing the damage done to his arm. There was talk of nerve damage and a possibility that he wouldn’t get full mobility of his arm back for another few months, which had been disheartening for everyone to hear. It had caused Madara, who Izumi was still worried about, to sulk even more while Arata had plastered on a fake smile so as to not worry everyone. It was failing horribly, of course. As a shinobi, it was perhaps one of the worst news to be told, a potential career-ending phrase.

And their father, of course, reacted even worse than Arata.

“Well, sooner or later–”

A loud thud interrupted them and the trio whirled around, only to see one of their classmates slumped over their desk. Then, one by one like dominoes crashing, the rest of the class suddenly fainted, falling onto their desk or to the tatami floor. Before Izumi could do anything, Izuna and Kazuyo’s eyes rolled back as they, too, collapsed.

She didn’t…she was having trouble keeping her thoughts straight. A sudden dizziness caused her eyes to flutter for a moment, she thought she was going to pass out. She tried to breathe through the sudden pressure from the left side of her brain, an aching that expanded to her eyes with every passing second until suddenly, that strange sensation…disappeared. Pop, just like that.

Her eyes shot open, not even realizing they had closed.

The panic flooding through her was immediate. After shaking her head, she shot forward, hands on Izuna’s shoulders as she pulled him off the desk and to the ground, trying desperately to wake him up.

Nothing was working.

She ran through the list in her mind – no alarms were being rung, no flurry of shinobi. It wasn’t an attack on the compound. So a test…but why would she be the only one awake? A test only for her? She shook her head. No, that was impossible, it made no sense, she wasn’t special like that.

Then…a genjutsu?

But there was no here that could’ve–

Realization had her pause because their teacher, they all made eye contact with Sanshiro-shishou during their morning greetings today. A perfect opportunity to cast a genjutsu on the class. Which meant that she was in a genjutsu. But if so, why was she self-aware? Looking inwardly, she didn’t sense any strange disruption to her chakra and she knew there would’ve been a prickling of her eyes reacting if she had fallen under one.

But that pressure earlier, the one that had nearly put her to sleep, now that was strange. Abnormal, even. What did it mean?

Maybe she was under a genjutsu. She sat back, the worry for Izuna and Kazuyo still nagging in the back of her mind as she attempted to disrupt the hold of a genjutsu – but only if she was under one. She did what she had been taught to do if she was ever caught in a genjutsu. Waited a few seconds before peeking an eye open but nothing about her surroundings had changed, her classmates still unconscious.

So no, just like she thought. She wasn’t under one. But what did that mean for everyone else? Pondering over this thought for a little, she then decided to move on to Plan B.

Breaking the genjutsu.

She gathered her chakra in preparation when the sliding doors to the class slammed open. She jumped when Sanshiro, along with two other instructors, were all staring at her with unease.

“Sanshiro-shishou?” she asked, positioning herself in front of Izuna and Kazuyo. “What’s–”

“Come along, Izumi-sama.” Sanshiro motioned with a hand. “We’ll discuss this elsewhere.” She was promptly dragged out of the room with some reluctance, not wanting to leave her brother and friend behind, but when her teacher repeated the demand with more of that familiar venom in his tone, she had no choice but to comply.

“What’s happening?” she kept trying to ask but the adults only gave her vague answers. By the end, she was beyond frustrated and annoyed, sitting at one of the tables in a smaller room only meant for the teachers, a cup of tea before her. They had patted her down and found nothing of note before they had left her in the room – which was more of a closet with how small and musty it was. The tea remained untouched as steam rose through the air and by the time she was pulled into another room, the cup was cold to the touch, signaling just how much time had passed.

Walking through the hall, she saw some of her classmates sitting on the floor, heads between their legs while others were yawning, clearly dazed. It was only a handful of them but none were Izuna or Kazuyo, so she paid them no mind as she followed after Sanshiro. They reached a set of doors and he slid it open, practically pushing her inside.

Izumi saw one zabuton facing three others, the cushion kept far apart from the others. She took a hesitant step toward the lone cushion. She didn’t have any doubt that she was meant to be sitting there and after a pointed look from her teacher, she promptly sat down, making sure to settle in a proper seiza, sitting on the back of her heels, keeping her spine straight.

“May I ask who else is coming?” she asked quietly after some time passed in agonizing silence, “and if my brother is okay?”

A beat of silence, her teacher barely hiding his scowl. “They’re the least of your problems right now, Izumi-sama.” He sat down quite heavily on his own cushion, crossed his arms. “Several notices went out and it seems as though we’re having difficulty reaching your father. He is, after all, a busy man. We would hate to bother the clan leader for something so…trivial.” Izumi winced under the harsh stare, her shoulders falling the slightest. “Is there anything you’d like to confess?”

Taken aback, Izumi slowly shook her head, hesitation pulling the strings. “I– No, shishou. I haven’t done–”

Thunderous steps interrupted the conversation and they both shot up, barely scrambling together a proper bow in time for when the door slid open. Izumi was the first to look up, blanching when she saw her father donned in his armor and weapons strapped to his back. From behind, she even saw Madara, although her brother was seemingly staying in the hallway. He gave her a pitiful smile before the door was closed in his face.

“Sanshiro. Izumi.” With warning, her father stormed into the room, trailed by one other man. He was familiar and she couldn’t recall who he was, and when their eyes met briefly, she felt a faint tingling from the center of her forehead. After a few seconds, it passed. She thought nothing of it.

Tajima quickly sat down in the middle, the familiar man taking the outermost left seat. Izumi’s heart leaped into her throat as she struggled to breathe, although she made sure to keep it to herself, unwilling to suffer any more embarrassment before her father.

“Make it quick. I don’t have much time before I’m to depart.”

Despite the statement, no one seemed to want to speak first. Izumi, confused and panicked from the events that had occurred the last few hours, didn’t know what to say. Sanshiro, clearly mindful of his status and unwilling to embarrass himself, kept silent. On the other hand, the most confusing person to be a witness to the unknown conversation was the man on the outermost left, who was just…staring at Izumi, eyes narrowed as he was clearly studying her.

“Father, I’m not sure why you were called here,” Izumi ended up blurting out to break the awkwardness, balling her fists atop her knees. She looked down, hair covering her face. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” For what she was apologizing, she wasn’t even sure, but it felt like the safest course of action.

“Look at me.” She didn’t really want to but she knew that tone, she knew she had no choice. Slowly she lifted her eyes until they met her father’s. Without warning, they shifted into the red of the sharingan; the three tomoe spun as she couldn’t help but stare, entranced. She felt her body slump forward, faltering where she sat, heaviness settling over her – yet, within seconds, an even stranger pressure erupted from the sides of her brain. It broke through the sudden fog blanketing her thoughts, her father’s jutsu being pushed out.

She had to blink a few times to clear the remaining daze as he, too, seemed surprised by this turn of events, head jerking back. He immediately turned to the unknown man to his left, mumbling something too quiet for her to hear, before turning to Sanshiro and speaking with him.

As the adults spoke, she had to keep reminding herself not to vomit, trying her best to keep her stomach calm. Whatever had happened, the emotions and fear fueling the adrenaline in her veins returned, that nauseating mixture of panic, fear, and guilt settling horribly in her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run outside and puke, her nausea rocking with every gulp she tried to take.

Whatever it was, this had to have been about the genjutsu on the class. There was no other reason for her to be pulled aside, for her own father to be called down. Was it because she hadn’t fallen under its spell?

A sound of disapproval, a clicking of his tongue before Tajima turned back to her.

“What do you think happened in class today?”

“...In class?” She couldn’t hide the confusion, eyes flickering between the adults in the room. “Are you talking about the genjutsu?”

“So you recognized it as one then?” Sanshiro was the next to speak, shifting around. “This was to be the final test for the terakoya students to filter out qualifying shinobi. All were cast with a genjutsu that they were required to break out of.” And there was that underlining tone in his voice she recognized immediately – that familiar hint of accusation, of his disbelief that she remained conscious not out of her own actions but through nefarious means.

“I didn’t cheat,” she immediately countered. She gritted her teeth and straightened her back once more, the weight of their heavy stares intensifying the anxiety of the unknown growing in her chest.

A pause before, “While no one is accusing you of–”

“Then why did you call my father down?” Was she getting worried? Yes. Were her thoughts growing more irrational? Maybe. But when accusations of cheating were thrown about, that was a means for the terakoya to kick her out – and while that might not affect her chances of becoming a shinobi in the long run, it would still damage her standing horribly with others, damage her potential future rise as one. It was now shame running through her veins at the disgusting accusation, a violent stain upon her name. “I didn’t cheat, I had no way of even knowing about the test!” Her voice grew louder, hoping for someone to believe her. “Is that why you searched me? To see if I had brought something with me to counter the genjutsu?”

“Izumi.” Her father’s firm voice was enough to break through the fear, rational blanketing over her with the silent warning.

“I…my apologies,” she mumbled, bowing her head down. Her hands dug into the tops of her knees. “I spoke out of turn.” Strange tension lingered in the air, at the impatience that her father was doing a terrible job at hiding and at her outburst. “The genjutsu was cast when we did the morning greetings, shishou?” she decided to ask quietly and respectfully.

Sanshiro’s eyes narrowed the slightest. “...Yes.”

“Then why wasn’t I under the genjutsu?”

“That’s the question we all have, Izumi.” Tajima rubbed his forehead quite aggressively. “And that’s why I’m here, aren’t I? While I feel as though the cheating accusations made by some were out of pocket”—Sanshiro’s sudden eye twitch didn’t go unnoticed—“as I know you wouldn’t bring embarrassment onto us by risking something like that, I know there must be another reason for this…situation.”

“I would never!” She had to tell herself not to shoot up and run away. Was it because of her sharingan, then? Was she going to be outed as a dōjutsu wielder before she wanted to? She hadn’t read about the sharingan causing its user to be immune to a genjutsu so it made little sense, but maybe there was just more to the dōjutsu that she just wasn’t aware of? “I only…I promise I didn’t cheat.”

Tense silence fell over the room as no one could really respond to that until suddenly, the man on the left spoke up. “I’m not sure if you recall Izumi-sama but I’m Kenji.” The man bowed his head in a quick greeting. “One of several clan physicians. Your brother, the late Katsumi-sama, had been one of my pupils.”

Izumi forced a feeble smile, using all of her energy to stop herself from passing out on the spot. “Ah, hello,” she mumbled, eyes looking around the room as she was growing light-headed by the second. “I had…forgotten.”

A quiet laughter as he pushed his glasses up. “No worries!”

“He was with me when I got notice from Sanshiro, so I decided to have him come with me.” Tajima looked at him. “Along with being a medic, he’s a sensor. He had cast a genjutsu on you the moment he walked through the door.”

Her mouth fell open, eyes turning to the man who smiled guiltily at her. “...He did? But I feel–”

“Fine?” After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

“I’d like permission to check for something if that’s alright, Clan Leader?” She fearfully looked at her father but he gave her a reassuring nod, allowing for the request. The medic walked over to her and knelt back down, activating his sharingan while doing so. “I do recall she had a seizure as a toddler,” he said, gathering his chakra into his hand where it glowed green. “Have there been any complications from that after?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Tajima answered for her. “Izumi?”

She shook her head while eyeing the green chakra gathered in Kenji’s hand. “I see. No worries, this won’t hurt at all. I just request you sit still.” He shifted around until he was blocking her view of her father. Almost as if he sensed the sudden spike in her heart rate, he attempted a reassuring smile that failed horribly as a hand touched her temples.

A strange coldness bled through where he pressed, slowly creeping over her until she was awash with something that was so…foreign. It didn’t hurt, just like he had said, but it was a sensation that she found herself rebelling from, having to force herself not to react to the touch. Sudden pressure in her brain, a sensation of fullness pushing against the cages of her skull. She winced from the sudden sensation and for a moment, she felt as though she was on the verge of passing out.

Then, nothing. Kenji stopped whatever he was doing, furiously blinking a few times. After a few seconds, he pulled away with a quiet hmm.

That…didn’t sound very good.

Without a word, he patted her shoulder before walking over to her father, where he bent down and proceeded to whisper to him for far longer than what she felt was good. Was it bad? Was something wrong with her? She saw her father’s brow raise in surprise as he crossed his arms. After a few more minutes of a hushed conversation, Kenji went back to his original seat at the end.

“Is…” She hesitated to speak first, but pushed through it. “Is everything okay?”

Surprisingly, it was Kenji who spoke up. “Everything’s fine, Izumi-sama. There’s just a…quirk in your chakra.”

“It seems, Izumi, that your chakra is…unbalanced”—Tajima grimaced, trying to think of how best to explain—“and Kenji’s noticed that there’s an abnormal amount gathered in your brain that’s reacting to foreign chakra. Or I guess in this case, the disruption of it.” He then frowned, turning to Kenji.

“For the most part, that’s correct.” Kenji smiled. “Simply put, the build-up of chakra in your brain is instinctually protecting you from genjutsu. You’re resistant to them.”

She blanked. Resistant?

“And…most of us aren’t?” she couldn’t help but ask, the question blurting out of her mouth. She hadn’t even realized that, while still kneeling, she was no longer sitting in the proper seiza form – she was no longer sitting on her feet, instead shooting up when she was told the news.

The collective silence was enough of an answer.

“As useful as that would be, no.” Kenji was rubbing his chin in thought. “Quite interesting to see as you’re a twin…Izuna-sama was under the same genjutsu, right?”

“Yes, the boy had no problems falling under it.”

“Perhaps it’s a gender difference?” Kenji mumbled, more to himself than anything. But at that, Izumi felt her heart stop. A difference…in gender? “They’re not identical twins, after all. But there’s never been an account that I’m aware of about someone like this…”

“But”—she frantically looked around—“I don’t have perfect chakra control.” Wasn’t that one of the requirements to be an expert at genjutsu?

Sanshiro remained sat, that typical sneer he reserved for her and Kazuyo nowhere to be seen. “But you do have some of the best control in the class.” The first and probably only time he’d ever say something remotely positive about her – and she wasn’t stupid, knowing that it was only due to her father’s presence beside him.

She sat back down, feeling somehow…defeated. “Although, I wouldn’t say she’s immune, Tajima-sama.” Kenji stared at her, clearly trying to unravel the sudden mystery of the issue. “I’m thinking that the built-up chakra might’ve been a result of the seizure, a natural reaction of her body in an attempt to protect itself…”

The silence rang throughout the room, the contents of her brain a subject to all those here, because what could she say in response to that? She didn’t know why she was able to stay awake from a genjutsu when others couldn’t. At that moment, she found herself hating the chakra, the strange protective shield that barred her from being normal.

No one person could respond to this observation and even though other ideas were thrown about as concerns were rightfully brought up – of course with disregard to her opinions because she was, after all, only ten – it seemed as though Kenji’s hypothesis was the diagnosis accepted for her abnormality.

Her father, sparing her only a small glance and a squeeze of her shoulder after the unprompted conference about her brain, departed soon afterward with her older brother in tow. She watched their backs disappear from the school, the heavy gaze of her teacher tying her to the classroom, but she couldn’t help but feel, for that very small moment, so inconsequential. Her, a girl but ten, a shinobi, yes, but inexperienced, weak, strange. She stood out in a crowd of her peers already and whether others would now know about her resistance, it did nothing but pile onto the layers of fear that had cemented itself like a cage around her heart.

0O0

By the time summer had rolled around, the terakoya granted her the official title of an Uchiha shinobi and promptly kicked out all of its students who had passed the final genjtusu test. Only a handful hadn’t and all five of the students Izumi did care about had, so she didn’t find herself thinking much about the others.

After all, the official missions that she was finally being assigned to soon lost their wonder and excitement the more frequently she was handed one.

She hadn’t known what to think when her first-ever mission was assigned. A simple one – she and a group of other fresh shinobi recruits were tasked, along with a senior member, on a delivery mission. Low risk, low reward. That was fine. She didn’t mind, ignored the grumblings of her other teammates.

Low risk was good. In fact, low risk was downright nice.

It had gone off without a hitch. They traveled to one of the Uchiha outposts, letters and deliveries in scrolls strapped to their backs. An exchange with the stationed shinobi occurred and they returned with new letters and requests for supplies. Rinse and repeat; rinse and repeat. After her fourth mission, she stopped counting, one after the other blending in their similarities until ten became five, and two became twelve. They all became the same and it was mind-numbingly boring. Most of the time she spent on these missions was practicing her kenjutsu or sparring with her other teammates, readjusting the armor that still dug painfully into her shoulder, and getting used to the tall collars of her new uniform.

But she had gotten naive in this simplicity, in the lull of these delivery missions. She should’ve realized that her time was coming, that the Uchiha’s paid war with the Senju would soon bleed through into her small and quaint missions.

What had started off on a sunny day ended with her covered in blood, sword dripping crimson and most of her team dead. Two familiar faces from her terakoya and two others who had been a year ahead, dead. What had been a day with her still trapped under the childish guiles of innocence ended with her first kill, a Senju boy no older than Arata, sword thrust through the plates of his armor into his chest. Blank eyes had stared at her and she froze for all of three seconds, time a precious commodity in the midst of an attack.

She had left an innocent child, came back as the soldier she had been trained to be.

Her home had been dark despite the early hours when Izumi returned, nearly everyone either out on a mission or gone for the day. If someone were to have looked at her at that moment, nothing was out of place – her clothes were clean, no bloodstain in sight, hair was tied up in its typical topknot, traveling pack thrown over her shoulder.

Yet, everything was different now, was it? She was a soldier, someone who had fought to defend her clan, someone she had been told, as a child, to revere. No one could say she wasn’t a shinobi for the clan now, not anymore.

It didn’t feel as great as she thought it would.

In the dark and quiet, she slid off her sandals and dropped her travel bag by her door, uncaring that she would most likely get scolded by one of the housekeepers tonight. Instead, she headed straight to the baths and stripped, desperate to cleanse the filth of traveling from her body. She had hoped, after practically boiling in the bathtub, that she would feel clean. She would scrub and scrub and scrub and nothing would change, that disgusting layer like oil stayed stuck to her skin, a heaviness to her that she didn’t want to carry.

Once she had dried off and returned back to her room, the housekeepers had begun preparations for lunch but she paid it no mind – she crawled into her futon, the comforting scent of home filling her nose, quickly drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Izumi awoke from her nap with a slow blink and a wide yawn, tempted to surrender to the fight with the addicting warmth of her blanket when, from the corner of her eye through her open window, Madara. All of the drowsiness that had threatened her disappeared, replaced with annoyance and curiosity. What was he doing? For months now, he disappeared into the forest. For months, he snuck off, leaving the siblings to face the wrath of annoyance from their father.

For months, she sat there under those unfair scoldings for the simple fact that no one knew where Madara was when he was needed.

That hesitation and annoyance bubbled over, tipping out of the metaphorical bowl until all she felt was anger. It was anger in her blood, a tangy taste upon her tongue as she threw off her blankets, storming over to the window. She watched, hair still tousled and face lined from sleep, as her brother slipped into the forest with ease as if he never had to worry about the dangers that lurked within those woods.

It was unfair.

Something snapped.

Everything about everything was unfair.

She forced herself to uncurl her fists, ignoring the crescent marks of her nails in her palm as she changed into casual wear and grabbed the first weapon she could see. It didn’t take her long to reach the trees thereafter. She felt as though someone was puppeteering her, as if this was a dream she was no longer in control of. It was just a…constant background noise ringing through her mind, no one singular thought controlling her actions other than two words repeating itself over and over again, a cacophony of voices reaching its peak: not fair.

Not fair, not fair, not fair.

Why was he able to walk into these woods, a smile on his face without a care in the world, when she still had nightmares about this place? She could barely step a foot before shivers ran through her body, her heart beating at a million beats per second as she felt on the brink of death. She had been ripped away from home and their brother had brutally died in these woods, bleeding to death alone with no one to comfort him in his last moments.

Yet Madara walked these woods with a smile on his face, disappearing for hours?

Even now, after a mission that had ended in a bloody disaster, she still would have rathered faced all those Senju shinobi hellbent on killing her overtaking even one single step into these woods. It clearly made no sense, she herself had no understanding of why she reacted like this, not when she had walked and slept in other forests. But this one…it was the graveyard of the first death that tormented her life. A death that weighed heavy forever, an anchor to her guilt and heartache.

Izumi gripped the leather wrappings on her kunai so tightly they creaked, the skin of her knuckles pulled taut.

No, no she refused to answer to that fearful voice that screamed at her to stay away. She could do something as simple as walk in this forest, especially after the week she had. She was no longer a child. She was a shinobi, a soldier. She had killed for the clan.

There could be no more excuses.

With a deep breath, Izumi took one shaky step forward. The world didn’t implode nor did the ground swallow her whole. So she took another. And another. Always aware, ever conscious of her surroundings, because she wouldn’t be taken unaware this time around. She was stronger and faster, wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

So Izumi followed her brother’s footsteps, realizing that Madara was not taking care to hide where he was going. Was it blind faith in his abilities? Or had he gotten complacent over the last few months after not getting caught during his escapes?

She stopped for a second, reorienting herself in an internal map she had drawn. Judging by the direction, she could only assume he was headed to the river that marked the end of the Uchiha territory bordering the Senju. She frowned. Was that where he was going on his own? But why?

She was only lost in thought for a brief moment, unwilling to test her luck. She kept her eyes trained on the trees around her, ears alert to any strange sounds. But the deeper she went, time began to pass by her in a blur, the trees growing taller and taller, the undergrowth thickening with every footfall. The canopy was so dense that sunlight was having trouble shining through.

It was beginning to feel oppressing.

Pulling at the collar of her neck, she hadn’t realized how heavily she was breathing, the heat oppressing as sweat clung to her body. Her hair, her clothes, it was stinging her eyes and she was forced to wipe the sweat with the back of her hand. She should’ve brought water, she realized, swallowing after realizing how parched she was.

It was getting darker–

Izumi rubbed her eyes again, a shiver running down her spine as she was forced to acknowledge the fear bleeding into the adrenaline because she was–

She was scared.

She had to stop to catch her breath. Told herself she knew, she knew, how to get home. Because she did, learned the geography of the surrounding area until it was memorized. But realizing that now required rational thought, and hers was becoming overruled by the sudden panic that decided at this moment to rear its ugly head, crowding the logical voices in her mind trying to tell her she was fine.

She didn’t–

She couldn’t do it.

Izumi began gasping for air. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t do it. The trees were now looming over her, the shadows growing ominous alongside the darkness and she swore the snapping of branches meant someone was near, and then the rustling of leaves, and she couldn’t help but remember–

Remember–

Remember, a voice hissed.

Blood-red eyes, a sword bursting out of Katsumi’s chest, blood erupting from his mouth and pouring onto her, it’s too much she can smell taste feel the copper–

Izumi collapsed onto her hands and knees as she began to gag, clenching her eyes shut, hands fisting the dirt, but it wasn’t working nothing was working, she couldn’t–

Katsumi reached out, she reached out, hands outstretched and barely touching, it was too late, she was being thrown over a shoulder to watch her brother die–

Her forehead pressed onto the ground, the gravel and sticks and grass digging into her skin but she didn’t care, all she could feel was the pressure, and even with her hands slammed against the sides of her head it did nothing.

A boy no older than Arata, the two of them staring at the sword through his chest, his mouth opened tears streaming down and blood splattered across her face but she didn’t even flinch–

“A-Aniue,” she couldn’t help but whimper, repeating it louder again, wanting nothing more than the safety of someone with her. Screw trying to go about this alone, she was scared. She knew, she knew and knew that she needed to be stronger, but she couldn’t. “Aniue!” Tears prickled the corners of her eyes but when she dared to peek her eyes open, the trees loomed over her, threatening in the cold darkness. She was alone in the woods, so far from home, she was lost and she was going to die far from home, far from her loved ones just like Katsumi. “Madara!” She rarely called her oldest brother by his name and yet–

No response.

She couldn’t breathe, the air constricting and too much all at once. Her head pressed against the dirt as she was doing her best, she really was, rocking back and forth muttering nonsense but it wasn’t working, when footsteps suddenly emerged she couldn’t move and only when a touch did she scramble away–

“–Izumi!”

A familiar voice.

She peeked an eye open and it was greeted by Izuna. Izuna was here, he was here so she had to be safe, right?

In the sudden clarity, her brother’s eyes widened.

“Izuna, did you find her?” another familiar voice called out, further away but still echoing all around her. His head flew back.

“Y-Yes!” He frantically grabbed her, shoving her face into his stomach without care, nearly suffocating her. She grunted from the impact when he pulled her in even more, wrapping his arm and practically throwing himself over her body with his own. Confusion laced her thoughts, the questions amidst the haze of panic because what was he doing?

“Izumi, your eyes,” Izuna hissed, so quiet and small that it was basically a puff of air against her ear. “Turn them off.”

All came to a halt.

Her eyes. Her sharingan.

She was silent as she nodded, enveloped by the warmth of her brother’s hug.

“A-Arata, maybe you should try finding Aniue? She was calling out for him earlier. I know Father was looking for him!” Izuna said again, voice muffled. She didn’t bother listening to what else he said, attempting to get her breathing under control because that was the first step, to try and stop the chakra flow to her eyes, but it was so difficult–

The chakra was slipping through her control, grasping the flow felt neigh impossible. But she pushed through, forced it to become almost malleable. The warmth of it, that constant energy that she always forgot was humming beneath her skin became known as she told herself to calm down.

She stood on the precipice, her brother’s protective hug doing exactly what she needed to step away from that pit of anxiety within her, to help return to reality. No, the trees were not growing with every second, no one was going to come and kidnap her ever again. She was stronger than she ever was, a shinobi now, she wasn’t weak like before. She knew what to do, how to kill a man in more ways than not.

With her eyes now returned back to those dull browns, her secret was still safe, secured between the twins only. After a little while, she began to shift around, growing uncomfortably by the weight and lack of air. When she finally pulled away and took in a deep breath of fresh air, Izuna finally released his tight hold on her. The trees were no longer dark and oppressive, looming over her in fear. No, they simply stood steadfast and strong, the leaves rustling along to the wind that blew through.

There was obvious concern in Izuna’s gaze that grew with every second but she shook her head, not in the proper headspace to ever talk about what just happened. She could only be grateful that he had found her when he did because not even a second later, Arata landed near them with a silent thud, only the impact of the dirt evidence of his drop. He was as pale as paper, eyes widened as he wheezed for air, his arm still in its sling.

“Arata?” Izuna called out, “what’s wrong?”

“I found”—he shut his eyes, shook his head a few times as he mumbled to himself—“I found Madara. He was by the river.”

“Oh.” Izuna scratched his arm as he stood up, pulling Izumi up with him. “Why do you look so scared then?”

Their older brother’s eyes flew open as he simply…stared. No way for her to judge what it was that had him acting the way he did. If Madara had been in danger, Arata wouldn’t even be here right now, so what was wrong?

“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” he suddenly declared. No reason, no explanation, just a he’s fine. “Let’s go back.” There was no room for discussion in his tone and although Izuna protested, Arata wasn’t bothering to entertain of his questions. Eventually, it became obvious that he was going to leave them here if they weren’t going to follow him home. And of course, Izumi quickly chose to follow. She wouldn’t complain about that decision. Being here, taking step after step where Izuna did, she found relief that she was no longer alone, that the dreadful weight of being in this forest was, momentarily, lifted off her chest.

When they reached the house, she refused to talk about what happened with Izuna, still shaken by her own weakness. It was one thing to know that the crippling fear lingered still, it was another to be confronted with her inability to control herself. She went straight to her room, eyes closed at the taunting voices of Haru in her head as she meditated, deep calming breathing exercises to help center herself. She fell into the lull of her chakra, of the flow that sat beneath her skin, unsure of the time when she finally awoke from the trance.

Later, when she felt as though she had calmed herself enough, she got up and left, only to nearly run into Arata standing outside Katsumi’s bedroom door. She attempted to talk to him, perhaps even get more information on Madara being by the river like she had thought, but he brushed her off, claiming a headache and some tension in his arm. He didn’t even look at her before shuffling away, clearly bothered by something.

0O0

The next few weeks thereafter were strange, a tension Izumi couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was a heaviness to the air she could have cut through had she attempted. It was when Izuna, ever the observant one, noted that Arata was now avoiding Madara that she realized the source of said tension: Arata.

He, too, was now disappearing into the woods. She hadn’t noticed it until she went looking for Madara, only to realize that Arata was also nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t as though he was at his anma sessions either, checking her father’s calendar where he marked everything down. It happened again and again, with Izuna corroborating this with his own numerous searches. One brother disappearing for hours was one thing but another at the same time?

Suspicious.

Today, she was cleaning her katana in the dojo. Izuna, who was still wearing his armor from their earlier training sessions, was going through katas beside her when the sudden loud slamming of doors practically shook the room, forcing the two to pause.

What was happening?

A silent conversation between her and Izuna – she quirked a brow, he shrugged his shoulders, little motions between them. She put her sword down and opened the door, sticking her head out into the hall. Another slam closer than earlier. The only room in this part of the house was their private armory. Izuna pushed her down, using her body to stick his head out above her to see.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, maneuvering herself fast enough for Izuna to lose his balance and crash into the hallway.

“Ow,” he complained, glaring at her as she rolled her eyes. “What was that for?”

“You’re wearing your armor. You’re heavy.” She stepped over her brother without care and began walking down the hall in that general direction. It didn’t take long, only a few steps until turning the corner when she came to a sudden halt.

Arata stood down the hall, staring at the door ajar to the armory.

“Arata?”

He whipped his head around. “Izumi?” A pause as she suddenly grunted and stumbled a few steps forward, Izuna ramming into her back. “Izuna?”

Before either of them could say anything, the armory door was thrown open. Her father was wearing his armor, weapons strapped to his side. Tajima pushed aside Arata, eyes meeting Izuna’s.

“Izuna, you have your katana?” At the sudden attention, her twin brother shook his head, bewildered, answering no in a shaky voice that would have had him scolded otherwise. Without waiting, Tajima stormed passed them, pointing to the open door. “Pick one and follow me.”

He didn’t bother waiting for them. After watching their father’s back disappear around the corner, the siblings all took a collective second to just…stare at each other in confusion until another slamming door spun everyone into motion. Izuna sidestepped Izumi into the armory, attempting to readjust his armor himself, which then caused her to scramble after him to help secure it to his body. All the while, Arata had slipped into the room and begun looking at the various weapons, unable to hide the awe in his expression at all the shiny metal around them. Even Izumi wasn’t immune to the wonders of the weapons that lay in this room, some generations old and hadn’t seen a battle in decades.

But while her eyes trailed over the equipment, her eyes couldn’t help but pause where her father typically kept his armor hanging, the mannequin naked. Typically, it would’ve signified that her father was about to be on a mission away from the Compound but seeing how…angry he had been, she grew fearful for Izuna.

“Do you think everything’s okay?” she whispered, unable to raise her voice in the room. “Why would he want you to follow him? And without the typical guards?”

Izuna shook his head, expression most likely just as confused as hers. “I don’t know but…I don’t like it.”

“You and me both.”

From there, she went and stopped on a random sword, one she recognized they had used recently in training. She unsheathed it at first, noticing that the metal was duller than the typical sharpness found on an actively used katana, but it should be fine…right?

“What about this one?”

Arata strolled over, brows furrowed in thought as she handed it over to Izuna. Izuna did the same basic look over she did and just shrugged, but when he went to slide it into his waist, the door with outside access to the armory flew open. It seemed as though they had taken too much time. Tajima came into the room like a storm, barely taking a look at the katana in Izuna’s grip before ripping it out of his hand. He grabbed another sheathed katana from the upper mounts, one that Izumi immediately recognized as one of his personal katanas, before dropping it into Izuna’s open hand.

Before any one of them could even begin asking what was going on, their father left out that same door, Izuna in tow.

Izumi and Arata, watching with an identical look of bewildered confusion, ran after them as it quickly became obvious that Tajima was dragging their brother toward the forest. The two siblings followed as far as they could but soon stopped at the edge, Izumi still uneasy and unwilling to test how far she could go. Arata was stretching his still injured arm as she shuffled around, the two of them just…standing there, silent.

“What…what do you think happened?” she ended up asking, breaking the strangeness in the air. She had never seen their father so angry. His eyes had been alit with…rage? No, it was something else, but Izumi couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

Arata didn’t turn, his frown deepening. He blinked a few times, opting to stare into the forest rather than give her an answer. A mirage of emotions crossed his face, some that she was all too familiar with before he settled on something so blatantly false that she would’ve laughed had the circumstances warranted otherwise.

“I…I don’t know–”

That was suspicious.

“What happened?” she pressed, eyes narrowing. “I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not–”

She kicked him in the shin and he yelped, bending down to rub his leg. When he finally turned to her, she was taken aback at the sudden fear in his gaze, a brokenness that she didn’t understand.

“I think…” He sighed. “I think it has to do with the river.”

“The river? So you’re saying he’s gone to find Aniue?” But wearing his armor? “This doesn’t make sense, why would he–”

“I saw Madara with another boy by the river that day…” Arata's voice trailed off as a thought crossed his mind, eyes widening. “Oh shit, Father found out.”

“Found out what, Arata, you’re making no sense!” Izumi was about ready to throw her hands up in the air and throttle her brother. At this point, she’d probably have better luck marching into the forest herself as she was clearly getting no answers from her brother. “What does that have to do with Aniue? So what–”

“On the other side of the river, Izumi.” The haunted look on Arata’s face emphasized the growing shadows, of the fear and anxiety that was brewing in the boy. “On the Senju side. That other boy wasn’t an Uchiha.”

All her thoughts came to a crashing halt.

Oh.

The future in two paths, diverging with you.

She whirled around at the sudden voice. Off in the distance, standing behind a window, a lone woman. Although her face lay hidden by the deep shadows, Izumi couldn’t help but feel a strange…familiarity, a nagging in her mind that she had seen her before.

“–Izumi?” She looked at Arata, who still looked quite ill. “Are you listening?”

“I…” She turned back around. The space where she had briefly seen the strange woman stood empty, nowhere to be seen. You just imagined it, she thought, frowning. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

Arata was continuing to pace around aggressively, rolling his shoulder and flexing his hand, all signs of his weakened arm acting up and causing him grief. He was mumbling to himself, frantic in his anxiety as it was obvious that his worry was growing over what was happening a few miles out from their home.

“I didn’t tell Father,” he pleaded, “I wouldn’t– I should’ve told him but I was worried about Aniue, I knew how much trouble he’d get in.”

“O-Okay–”

“I wouldn’t snitch on him! I watched him from time to time, to make sure he wasn’t doing anything, but all he was doing was training with the other kid or hanging out with him. He wasn’t– Aniue wouldn’t betray the clan like that!”

“I know–”

“What if Father thinks differently? What if Father decides to disown him?”

Izumi's heightened anxiety was only amplified by Arata’s growing panic, and standing here so close to the forest, she couldn’t help the antsy desire to run. Despite her short stint through the underbrush a few weeks back, that didn’t mean she was jumping at every opportunity for a stroll through the trees. Still on edge, she grabbed her brother’s uninjured arm, pulling him back when he got a little too close for comfort, taking steps back toward the house.

“You know what? Standing here won’t do anything,” she said, pulling even harder when Arata dug in his heels. “We don’t even know if they’ll come back this way from the river.”

“What if they need backup?”

She shot a deadpan look – because was he serious? “It’s Father.” That should’ve been an answer enough. And she didn’t want to say the quiet part out loud but the two of them would be poor backup for their veteran father – Arata, with his weakened arm and her, fresh out of her terakoya and a newly minted shinobi.

Granted, Izuna was in the same boat as her, but it was clear that her father dragged him along more so out of coincidence and necessity.

“The only thing we can do now is to wait for them at home,” she argued, practically yanking on him now.

“I…” Arata was conflicted as he stared at her, searching for something in her gaze. It was only when she pulled on his arm one more that the fight left his body and he finally relented to her pleas, allowing himself to be dragged back home.

Izuna returned half an hour later, opening the door to one of the smaller tea rooms of the house, alone and dripping wet. Both Arata and Izumi shot up from where they had been sitting, frantic as they rushed over, words and questions stumbling over each other.

“Give me a second, let me breathe!” Izuna yelled, hands on his knees as he was still bent over, catching his breath. “Everyone’s fine, Father’s just out speaking with Aniue right now.”

“Okay, but what happened,” Arata pressed, standing at the edge of the platform, towering over him. At that, Izuna's words faltered, looking back down to the dirt ground.

“I…let’s just say that Father isn’t happy with him right now.”

“It had to do with that boy, right? At the river?”

His head shot up, wrinkle between his brow. “You knew?”

Their older brother flinched. “I–”

“Don’t tell Father,” Izuna hissed immediately, looking out the door. “Izumi, you know too, then?” Her silence was her answer, him knowing the guilty look that crossed her face well enough. “I wouldn’t bring it up to him or Aniue.”

“What happened though? Is Aniue okay?” she asked. “If Father’s really that angry…”

Izuna slid out his katana from his waist, only now really noticing how wet the ends of his pants were. “Aniue was–”

“Your brother was talking to Senju Hashirama.” The air in the room turned to ice as their Father materialized out of nowhere, Madara nowhere to be seen. Izumi quickly whirled around at the voice, watching Tajima close the door to the room. He was still wearing his armor, his weapons strapped to his waist as he walked around the table, feet heavy against the tatami floor. Izuna remained standing in full gear by the entrance, his nervousness obvious when he gulped and shifted around, his sandals scratching the dirt floor. No one said anything, waiting only for their father to break the silence. “I gave you specific orders, Izuna.”

Before he could defend himself, Arata took a step forward and bowed his head. “I apologize for my failures, Father. I failed to tell you that I already knew,” he mumbled. “I’m–”

“I know.” Tajima directed his intense gaze to her older brother. “We’ll be having a conversation about this later, do you understand? You’re lucky that I was the only one who followed you, time after time, down to the river for your little spy sessions. Did you fancy yourself an infiltrator while you snuck around, watching your brother commit treason? Do you understand the risk that could’ve befallen this family had anyone else found out about Madara meeting with a Senju, let alone their clan head’s child? Senju Hashirama may be young but he’s considered a prodigy amongst his people – did it ever occur to you that Madara was being manipulated into revealing secrets of this clan? I may be the Uchiha’s leader but it doesn’t protect me from treason – protect us! Do you understand that?”

Arata paled, shrinking into himself. “Y-Yes–”

“No, I don’t think you do, so let me lay out what could’ve happened due to you wanting to keep this little secret of his. I’ll repeat exactly what he did – treason. If Madara was anybody else, I wouldn’t be able to do anything as he’s tried as an adult and put to death. Then we’d all, as his direct family, fall under suspicion. I could have had my position stripped – you and your siblings forced into hard labor in the outer compounds, never able to pick up a katana again. So for you to have known about this disloyalty?” It was clear that their Father wasn’t holding back his anger. It terrified Izumi and judging by how ill Arata looked, he was just as afraid. “You are not a child, you are not innocent in this – in fact, you are complacent in your brother’s decision to go down to that river to play…to play house? For what he believed was some foolish notion of peace?”

Arata was on the brink of tears but kept them back, now looking down and avoiding all eyes on him. While Tajima had directed most of his anger onto him at this moment, it was obvious that the entire family was now under scrutiny. A scolding for him but a lesson for all. Izumi stood still, head bowed just like Arata as her father, jaw clenched and nose flared, was attempting to calm himself down.

“Look up,” he ordered, making eye contact with each and every one of them once they did. “For as long as we get paid by our benefactors, we fight the Senju. It has been like that for generations. There will never be peace amongst our clans. I thought it obvious without me saying anything but clearly, I was wrong to believe that my own children were smart enough to understand. So heed my words – peace with the Senju, for as long as this system remains in place, will never happen. Do I make myself clear?”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Now this also goes without saying but clearly, I must hold your hand and walk you through this, but there will be no mention of anything that occurred today to anyone outside of this household. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Izumi, Izuna, you’re dismissed.”

She didn’t miss how Arata flinched when Tajima redirected his attention to him. While a part of her wanted to stay back, maybe even help her brother, she knew better than to test her father’s patience. So with a quick bow, she jumped down next to Izuna and slipped on some outdoor sandals that someone had forgotten to follow Izuna out of the house.

They took a shortcut through the grounds that led them directly to their rooms, absentmindedly going through the motions once she reached an engawa that would give her quick access back into the house. She sat on the edge of the corridor, lost in thought as Izuna began to strip off his armor. A tedious process to do alone but she wasn’t in the mood to help nor was he asking, so she just…sat there.

She didn’t know what to think, really, after that interaction with her father. She hadn’t ever seen him so angry before but not only that, it was the disappointment that fueled the outrage that had left a sour taste in her mouth.

Peace with the Senju, she thought, recalling her father’s words. That was a concept she hadn’t even thought of for years. In fact, it was even stranger to think about such a thing. Yet, like a disease the word spread through her mind like an infection, occupying her every current thought. It wasn’t…impossible, she realized, memory jumping to the two boys who had helped her escape. After all, they had gone out of their way to plan said escape with Hitomi, risking punishment from their clan had the Senju found out their role in it.

…Yet, that had to have been an outlier. Chances were the older boy wasn’t even alive anymore and it always seemed as though he was the one who was pushing for peace.

But he was a kid – what did he know?

“What are you thinking about?” Izuna asked sometime later, sitting beside her after relieving himself of his armor. An air of exhaustion followed him but with it, a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. She shot him a look to which he rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“This all explains Aniue being strange, at least,” she answered, bringing her knees up to her chest.

He held their father’s katana in his hand as he sat, legs crossed and back straight. “He admitted that he would’ve lost to Hashirama”—Izumi whipped her head around in surprise—“but he also thanked the Senju because, well, Aniue has a fully developed sharingan now.”

A three tomoe sharingan. Strange that, despite all of his training and practices, Madara hadn’t been able to mature his dōjutsu until now, on a day that broke his friendship. She wondered if this Hashirama had been a closer friend than what she initially thought.

“At least Father’ll stop complaining about that now?” she suggested but judging by the deadpan look she got in response, it fell on deaf ears. She slumped her shoulders before falling on her back, arms outstretched across the wooden floor. “...I hope Aniue and Arata are okay.”

“Me too.” Izuna looked at the katana in his lap. “I– Do you remember that boy you told me about?”

Izumi couldn’t help the snort, holding back the ridiculous laugh that threatened to escape at the change of topic. But whatever, if that’s what he wanted to talk about. “A boy? Who, from class? There’s no one–”

“No, stupid, those Senju boys who helped you escape from their compound.”

Her head lolled to her right, looking at Izuna. Her brother was watching her and she frowned. “Kind of? I mean, I wouldn’t forget that atrocious bowl cut and his brother’s white hair.”

“What were their names?”

Looking back up to the ceiling, she had to dig deep. While the memory surrounding those events still lay quite clear, she knew she was forgetting some of the finer details – but of course, never the horrors. She’d never forget that, not when they still tormented her, not when the ghost of a red-haired boy seemed to follow her around. But the Senju names…

“Yeah, Hashi and Tobi.”

“...I think those boys were the same boys today.” She shot up, staring at him incredulously, disbelief pounding at the doors of her mind – because what?

She recalled that bowl-cut boy. That laughter, his so-called dream of peace, Hitomi’s comment about his capabilities despite his age. Like the final piece of a puzzle, she saw the wider image of this entire scenario because things definitely made sense now.

Fine, just for you – Hashira. Hashi is a nickname of sorts.

Of course her brother had been speaking with Hashirama, the same boy who wanted peace, the same boy who had shook hands with a different Uchiha.

“Father fought with Butsuma and I fought with a white-haired boy. I heard Hashirama call him Tobirama.”

She could only stare at Izuna as he began to recall the tense standoff with the Senju, about the white-haired boy and bright red eyes. She listened dutifully because she was interesting but also because she wanted to laugh in the face of the coincidence – because truly, how small was the world for her to have been kidnapped and stuck in the same cell as Senju Tobirama?

As Izuna described the fight, uncertainty settled heavily over their shoulders, unsure of how today’s events would affect the coming days.

0O0

Izumi narrowly avoided a strike to her stomach, only instinct moving her body away at the last second.

She spun around, landing unsteadily on her feet, kicking up a storm of sand and dirt as her arms were up in defense, Izuna mimicking her stance. They circled each other, desperate to find the smallest opening. He shot forward and she took the hit but rather than facing it fully, she deflected the punch with her forearm. With her available hand, she directed a hit to his face but he shifted, causing her to graze his ear instead.

An idea emerged immediately. She smiled, which threw off her brother for just a second – but that was all she needed. Giving him little time to react, she tackled him without a single care, no form to the attack as he grunted from the impact, air leaving his chest. He twisted his body around as he fell, landing front first onto the grass in an attempt to scramble away. Of course, she saw that coming, quickly locking an arm around his head and effectively putting him in a loose chokehold atop him.

“G-Get off of me!” She burst out laughing as she felt as though she were riding a horse, Izuna trying his best to throw her off. She only relented when he slapped the ground a few times in surrender, to which she rewarded him by going limp with deadweight despite his complaints.

“That was fun,” she said once Izuna kicked her off.

“For you maybe,” he grumbled, “I was fighting for my life!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m never sparring with you again.” At this, she raised a brow, turning her head to him. He kept up his annoyance for a second longer before he finally groaned, throwing his hands up. “Shut up.” Barking out a laugh, she stood up, giggling even more when she offered a hand to which he promptly slapped away.

They took a quick break, drinking water and stretching when some angry shouting seemed to drift over to them, forcing a stop to their sparring. Gradually, the voices got louder until they soon recognized the familiar shouts – it was their brothers, arguing. It was getting worse with every second. She didn’t even have to ask before the two were scrambling toward the path to another open area, stopping only when they found the culprits of the yelling.

“–didn’t tell Father anything! I’d never–”

“I bet you were just itching to find a way to screw me over, right? You were always–”

“How dare you”—Arata shoved Madara, which did nothing but aggravate the older boy more—“I didn’t snitch but now I sure wish–”

“You’re desperate and pathetic and I can’t believe I have to call you my fucking brother–”

Izumi whipped around to Izuna, identical expressions of shock crossing their faces. The yelling was only escalating and so she pushed him back to the house, panic lacing the urgency as she hissed, “Go get Father, Izuna.”

“I won’t–”

“This isn’t going to end well, okay?” She shoved him again. “Go.” She didn’t bother watching him sprinting down the path, her attention trained on her older brothers.

Oh, this wasn’t good. Madara and Arata were now screaming at each other and in each other's space. It would take much to ignite the fuse that both boys were waving around because she could tell someone was going to throw a punch soon.

“A-Aniue,” she tried to call out from afar but the look he shot her was so jarring that she lost her voice and staggered to a stop, suddenly scared at the cold rage that crossed his face. He had never looked at her like that before and she–

Arata, unfortunately, noticed this. “Don’t scare her, you dick!” He shoved Madara even harder, getting into his face. “She has nothing to do with this!”

“Don’t fucking touch me–”

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it–”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say, Madara reaching his breaking point. She saw the exact moment his control snapped, not even needing her sharingan to see the moment he tackled Arata to the ground. For all his strengths, Arata was no match for the prodigal genius that her oldest brother was. Not only was Madara significantly older and larger, he was simply more skilled. Arata was only thirteen and still recovering from a terrible injury that had practically benched him for over six months. He was rusty and outclassed and this wasn’t going to be good.

But Izumi, she failed because she just…stood there, frozen. She just–

She couldn’t – she just couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing because–

For all the roughhousing that she and her siblings did, for all the sparring and arguments and fights they had, they’d never–

“Please,” she begged, voice too small for either of them to hear. She took a shaky step forward, unsure of what to do. “Stop, please!” Her cry did nothing, the boys continued fighting. Arata was being punched over and over again by their oldest brother, rolling around in the dirt. He attempted several times to escape as Madara sat atop him, but he soon shifted into defense as he was now just trying his best to block hit after hit by raising his arms. But with his back to the ground, he didn’t have anywhere to go, and when Madara swung onto his injured arm, his first loud wounded cry escaped–

Her body wasn’t in control of itself as she flew down down the path. One second, she was standing along the edge of the area, on the outskirts of the fight, and the next she was pulling at Madara, trying to get him off of Arata–

“Aniue, stop!”

Years later, she would recall this fight, and even then Izumi could never tell whether or not Madara had known she was there. But it didn’t change anything, because amidst her decision to intervene, he had raised an elbow and she had no time to block the hit before Madara whipped his arm back and broke her nose.

She let go and fell back with a cry, more stunned than anything as she felt something…dripping down her face and into her mouth. That metallic taste of copper immediately flooded her senses, rocking her stomach. Against her will, her eyes watered up and began to stream down the sides of her cheeks. On instinct, her hands flew up – a massive mistake. The moment she touched her nose, a flare of pain so bad she nearly saw white, another cry escaping through the throbbing ache that grew with every second.

“Shit–”

She blinked furiously, no longer able to breathe through her her nose, mouth parting for air as she leaned forward. She didn’t–

Her ears rang, her mind screaming at her to move, that she was hurt–

The boys froze, just watching as she shakily got to her feet, blood pouring from her nose, down her face, soaking her shirt. Her hands began to clench and unclench, over and over, over and over.

Were they shaking? She couldn’t stop them from shaking.

“Izumi, I–”

Madara’s mouth moved. She registered none of his words, none of his excuses, her thoughts drowned by the pulsing of her blood, the throbbing pain adding fuel to the voice that continued to push at her that nothing was fair.

Arata didn’t do anything. Madara was at fault here – he was the one who risked everyone by meeting with that Senju by the river. Why was he mad? In fact, Arata got in trouble because of him. It wasn’t fair.

And then he hit her?

In a last-ditch effort, she clenched her eyes, gritting her teeth and trying her best to grasp some semblance of control over her anger and her chakra. Oh, but her rage, it sang in her veins, pumping her full of those raw emotions that her chakra was only being fueled by. That intoxicating rush called to her, called to the draw from her eyes as a release for the overwhelming roaring.

Ultimately, the push proved to be too much.

The throbbing of a potentially broken nose, alongside the events of the last few weeks, was too much for Izumi to handle, and from the crack came a flood. When she next opened her eyes, everything was crystal clear. She watched, cursed with foreknowledge of her brothers’ reaction. Arata’s own eyes would widen as his body would go still and Madara, whose shock due to breaking her nose would shift into sheer disbelief at what he would see.

But…she didn’t care.

With a cry, Izumi attacked her oldest brother, a fist thrown back. Madara, too shocked at the turn of events, fell to the ground when they collided, too slow to block the punch that had landed square on his upper cheek. He seemed more dazed than anything at the sudden turn of events. Arata scrambled out of their way as he only watched, dumbfounded, as Izumi began screaming and hitting Madara while on top of him.

She slipped through all of his poor defenses – which were lackluster at best – as she rained hell onto her brother in a manner unseen by all. It was a surprise to herself too at how angry she was. But it was a relief, an outlet for her rage, from the sheer worry that had plagued her for months over Madara, because–

She couldn’t think, only that–

Madara was being so unfair–

With the forest and Katsumi and how Madara had betrayed them–

They all had been so worried–

So immersed in her anger, Izumi hadn’t even noticed Izuna and Tajima flying down the path. She didn’t register the arms that had grabbed and pulled her off Madara, not realizing that Tajima was holding her back–

“Izumi, enough!”

The voice broke through the anger as she was forced onto her feet, at the gasps that left her mouth as she struggled to breathe. Her bloody nose continued to gush blood down her face and she couldn’t breathe–

She couldn’t breathe–

“Damn it, you need to breathe through your mouth!” Tajima grabbed her head and forced her to look down, to slow down the blood coating her face so that less would drain down the back of her throat. She gagged a few times while struggling to let in the air and powerful slaps onto her back helped clear her airway, and only after that did her breaths become less erratic. That, in turn, helped with the frantic nature of her chakra trickling power to her eyes, finally calming it down until the flow slowed to a stop. It shifted the red back to her typical browns, sight reverting to normal.

All at once, that heightened sensation disappeared and she felt calmer, clearly having been overwhelmed by the enhanced sight and her emotions clashing with one another, unable to maintain a balance between the two. After blinking a few times to perfectly readjust her sight – and gagging a few more from the bloody taste in her mouth – she registered the hand on her face. It guided her to look back up until she was looking at her father, who watched in angry concern. As quick as her anger appeared, it was replaced by shame and embarrassment and she couldn’t help but turn away, nodding for him to let her go.

“What the hell is going on here?” Tajima hissed, whirling to them all once she caught her breath.

Only silence. No one wanted to speak, to admit fault, because what had initially started as an argument had escalated into a full-on fistfight between the three siblings, sparing only Izuna from the worst of it. Tajima turned his sights onto every single one of them until finally, Izuna stepped forward.

“Izumi and I were sparring nearby and we were taking a break when we heard voices,” he began, “so we decided to see what happened. That’s when we saw Arata yelling–”

It was then Arata interjected while holding his injured arm, wincing with every slight move. “Aniue was the one who just started accusing me–”

At this, the silent Madara suddenly whipped his head around to Arata, an eye twitching. “You’re the one who pushed me–”

All at once, a cacophony of voices, raising in reignited anger as accusations began flying about.

“Yeah and? You’re the one who punched Izumi–”

“I didn’t mean–”

“You looked me in the eye–”

“You broke my nose–”

“Enough!” Tajima’s voice rang out throughout the surrounding area, shocking everyone into a forced silence once more. While her father had let go of her face, he still held tightly onto her arm at an uncomfortable angle. It was when she hesitatingly tugged on it that he let her go, allowing her to lean forward and try to stop the blood that was, thankfully, slowing down. “Your stories all better be the same,” he hissed, “because I have had it up to here with the blatant disrespect from all of you.” He turned to Izuna, who had moved to stand by his sister, and the silent implication was enough.

“L-Like I was saying, Arata and Aniue arguing. It was getting bad, so Izumi told me to get you. I didn’t want to but I did see her try to calm them down.” He gulped. “I don’t know what happened after that.”

Tajima then turned to Izumi, now clearly her cue to start talking. Although, she was glaring a hole into Madara from where she stood. “...After Izuna left, there was just more yelling,” she mumbled, her blocked nose doing absolute horrors to her voice. “And the next thing I knew, they were fighting.” She opted not to say anything more, a clear mistake in her father’s eyes as they narrowed.

“...Then what?” She closed her mouth, unsure of what else to say. “Silence is not an acceptable answer so I’ll repeat – then what?”

“I tried to stop them.” Her father’s eye twitched and she turned away, unwilling to meet his angry gaze head-on. “Aniue hit me and I got angry.”

“So you got angry?” Tajima ran a hand across his face. “Anger doesn’t mean you should attack your brother with an activated sharingan.”

“I–” She flinched at the dōjutsu’s mention. She tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat, only for the coppery taste of blood to assault her tongue from the drainage. While not hyperventilating, she was damn near close to and Izuna had to pinch her back to reality. “I couldn’t control it,” she finally concluded. “It just…appeared.”

“Appeared? You expect me to believe you to have a two tomoe sharingan just from this fight alone?” He barked out a cold laugh. “No. You and I are going to be having a conversation about this later.” She only nodded her head, defeated at the demand. She hadn’t planned on informing her father of her sharingan in this matter and had hoped to somehow twist it around in her favor when the time came, but if…

If her eyes had matured into a two tomoe sharingan, there was nothing she could do about it now.

“–all my fault, Father,” Madara said. She only caught the tail end of his sentence, having been too immersed in her own thoughts. “I started the fight with Arata. I broke Izumi’s nose. I didn’t mean to but she had every right–”

“I don’t understand what’s gotten into you,” Tajima hissed, “but after the river incident, it’s now this? Fighting with your siblings?” He let out an aggravated sigh before turning to Arata, clearly sporting a black eye, fresh bruising across his face and forearms, and holding onto his weakened arm. Every slight movement was clearing causing him immense pain and through the anger and shame, Izumi was growing concerned.

Arata winced but for altogether a different reason, their father’s look cutting into him. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, head bowed again.

“Your arm, how bad is it?”

“...I’m not sure. I don’t– I don’t think it’s that bad.” It was such a bad lie that they all collectively winced.

Beats of silence until her father had a hand against his forehead, eyes closed and jaw ticking. No one said anything until he pointed to Izuna, not even bothering to look at them. “Take your sister and brother back to the house and have one of the housekeepers call for Kenji.”

“Yes, sir.”

Izuna gently hooked his arm with Izumi’s before pulling her away. Despite the anger still boiling in her chest, she couldn’t help the twinge of worry for Madara in her chest. She angled her head to look back as Izuna dragged her away. Tajima and Madara stood before each other in silence, the tension growing by the second.

“I’m sorry, Izumi,” Arata mumbled and she turned to look at him.

“It’s not your fault,” she grumbled, “I should’ve known better than to jump in between you two.”

“I was just…”—he clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching—“I was just so angry. But I guess that makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

“I think Aniue’s just…stressed,” Izuna, ever the pacifier amongst them, said, walking in the middle. How strange, she couldn’t help the thought, that the youngest of them all would be the most calm in the face of this terrible storm. He weathered everyone’s emotions well, either deflecting them or shifting attention onto something else, and it was exactly what he was doing now. “After what happened by the river, I don’t blame him. He’s in serious trouble with Father.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Izumi interjected, making sure they weren’t in hearing distance. “Because–”

Izuna rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think Aniue really believes me,” Arata, whose anger was quick to ignite but also extinguish, mumbled tearfully. “Ever since the river, he won’t even look at me. You have to believe me when I say I didn’t tell Father. I wouldn’t snitch on him, not about something like this, because I knew he’d get in trouble.” The twins stopped, watching their older brother.

“You know I believe you.” Izumi, leaned forward around Izuna to look at him. “Because I saw you that day. I bet…deep down, Aniue does too.”

“...Yeah, sure.” But he was fooling no one with his smile today, that forced mask that he tended to fake whenever things went a little haywire. “Let’s just hope we get out of this without catching Kenji-san’s wrath.”

At this, Izumi couldn’t help the snort, but that was immediately followed by excruciating pain and groan. Izuna then tried to hide his laugh and Arata’s small smile seemed more genuine than a second ago.

“I’m getting out of this fine with Kenji-san healing my nose. You’re the one who’s going to have to face his wrath after all that healing he’s done for your arm.”

“I know.” A dramatic sigh as he dragged his healthy hand down his face, the other limp at his side. “Those anma sessions were already the worst.”

So the three siblings continued down the path back home, the lingering disaster of tonight forever etched into their memory.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Tajima’s reaction to Izumi’s sharingan was quite…lackluster. Matter of fact, straight to the point. He didn’t seem shocked whatsoever and rather than tiptoeing around the dōjutsu, he just asked whatever he wanted.

When did she activate it? She lied. Had she had used it at any point during her training? No, she did not. What did she want to do going forward?

“Going…forward?” the words left her mouth, repeating her father’s question.

“Yes.” Tajima leaned back in his zaisu, the legless chair creaking on the bamboo floor under his weight. “You’ll begin proper training with the dōjutsu. There’ll be more opportunities presented to you now that you’ve awakened your sharingan.” He frowned. “And, of course, once Izuna awakens his, he’ll join you in training.”

After some more time – and scolding – he dismissed her with barely another look, leaving her with some tedious chores as punishment. Clearly more important things required his attention. As she slid the office door closed and turned around, she found herself nearly stepping on Izuna, who had fallen asleep while waiting out in the hall for her.

She just…stared for a moment, recognizing that he was the only one to come out of that horrid interaction a few days ago unscathed. Arata had been forced to resume his daily anma sessions in hopes of reversing all the damage done to his progress, Madara was who knew where after being yelled at and reprimanded by their father, and then here she was, scolded and reprimanded for hiding such a vital part of her training. So much had gone down in a way that spoke of obvious chaos and she wanted nothing more than to escape from this frustration, from the annoyance of it all.

So with a sigh, she nudged her brother with her foot, quickly waking him up. “You would be dead if I was a Senju,” she muttered, ignoring the eye-roll as Izuna scrambled to his feet.

“Well, good thing we’re at home.” He looked over her, clearly searching for something. “...Was everything okay? You were in there for a while. You’re kinda pale.”

“Everything’s fine.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Just the usual. I have to help the housekeeper for a few days with some extra chores.”

They soon walked down the hall, talking about nothing of importance, just brother and sister, unaware of their shoulders growing heavier and heavier with the weight of their role within the family.

0O0

The door to the house dojo was open and Izumi’s curiosity whispered in her ear to take a peek – and so she did exactly so, sticking her head around the opening. It was Arata in the middle of warming up, stretching his body.

She continued hovering by the door, eyes lingering over her older brother’s arm. Outwardly, nothing was amiss; months of anma sessions had helped heal the wound quite nicely even after that slight hiccup with Madara about a year ago. No one would have been able to tell that the arm was, in fact, still damaged.

She wasn’t too privy to the extent of the injury as her father kept it as quiet as possible but she knew that there was lasting damage done to the chakra pathways, leaving behind permanent scarring in that upper node. It left her brother unable to fully channel chakra through that side, which made for an obvious issue for using any ninjutsu. In any other case, it would have been a career-ending injury – but it was Arata, even more than their father, who was determined to stay a shinobi.

Deep down, Izumi knew why; it was embarrassing to have to retire at such a young age as a shinobi, particularly due to their household status. She could understand Arata’s drive to continue searching for another way to stay as a soldier because she would have done the same thing.

So here they were now.

Thankfully, long gone were the moments of hesitant conversations regarding the topic as she knew now Arata found comfort in taijutsu. While it hadn’t been his main focus before other than what was necessary, it certainly was now as he’d never regain control over the pathway in his arm. This was his way, though, of continuing as a warrior. Taijutsu seemed to be a calling and even she could tell that he flourished through the training, quickly rising through the ranks. At the age of fourteen, he was beginning to outclass those who had been training longer than him and she even believed that he had the capabilities of becoming a master.

What fueled this thought, of course, was the rumors swirling amongst them of a man who never used ninjutsu in battles – and along with this were the quiet murmurings that this shinobi was unlocking gates. But she took that information with a grain of salt, doubting the validity of them.

“Arata?” she called out as she walked in, a stack of scrolls still in her arms.

“Hey.” He stood up and stretched. “What’s wrong? Are those for me?”

She shook her head as she walked passed him, footsteps slapping against the wooden floor as she went toward the exit on the other side of the room. “No, they’re for Aniue. He asked for them but I can’t find him anywhere – I was wondering if you’ve seen him?”

“Tch.” Arata’s face hardened into a deep scowl. “You know I haven’t.”

She paused right before reaching the door. “...Are you guys still not talking?”

He began to rummage through the closet, pulling out a practice katana a few seconds later. “I’ve tried but he’s the asshole in this situation.”

“Arata–”

“What?” He whipped his head around. Clearly still angry from the events of last year, but she didn’t know much of the details of the after. Their father had tried to remediate the situation several times over the last few months but clearly, it had done nothing; they were still refusing to talk to one another. “He’s the one that doesn’t want to speak to me.”

She frowned. “...I know, it’s just that–”

“Izumi! Where are you?”

Arata stiffened at the voice and before she could respond, the same door she entered through flew open and standing in all his glory was their older brother himself. While Madara did pause for a second when he recognized Arata, there was no other reaction to his presence. Without acknowledging him, he walked over to Izumi, smiled, took the scrolls, and left. Just like that, she was left alone with Arata again, hands hanging in the air, now empty.

A few seconds passed before he snarked, “See?” Izumi couldn’t help the eye roll, although he wouldn’t have been able to see it with his back facing her as he was now going through several katas on his own.

“Fine, whatever,” she grumbled in response. There was some silence after, only the sound of Arata’s sharp exhales as she lingered by the door, taking loud steps every few seconds to inch closer. For some time, that was all, until he was seemingly fed up with her antics, suddenly stopping halfway through to whirl around.

“What now?” he asked, exasperated.

“...Nothing.”

“Go be…annoying elsewhere. Go bother Izuna.” Eyes narrowed as she stayed silent. “What?”

“I said nothing–”

“Don’t lie–”

“I’m not!” Another scowl shot her way. Their stubborn natures clashed and there was a push and pull until she lost. “...Fine. Izuna’s with Hideki and I don’t have anything to do.”

“Then go read a book or something, can’t you see I’m practicing?” He waved the sword around for good measure. “Leave me alone.”

“Can I join you?” Another step toward her brother. “Please?”

His arm slowly came around until she was staring at the blunt end of the practice weapon now pointed at her, his eyes perpetually narrowed. For a beat, that was all, until she moved – every step she took, he took one until they were doing a strange dance in circles around the dojo.

“...What do you think you’re doing?”

An innocent shrug as they continued the circling. After a few more seconds of unease – on his end – she saw his arm lower the slightest, to which she promptly used that opportunity to sprint her way through his defenses. Due to their height differences, she was smaller and faster, scrambling around to jump onto his back. He staggered a few steps forward from the sudden weight, his hands grabbing her arms as she locked her legs around his waist.

“Please please don’t kick me out!” she dramatically whined when he finally stopped moving.

Arata tried again to peel her off of him but she held on tight, unwavering in the face of his annoyance. “Get off of me!” After some more scrambling, his arms finally fell as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Train with me,” she demanded. “I’m bored.”

“No.”

“Come on–”

“Damn it, you’re being really annoying right now, you know that?” She just shrugged and whether it was her tenacity or his lack of tolerance for her antics, he finally let out a groan. “Fine, you little shit, I’ll spar with you, so just get off.”

She threw a fist in the air before jumping off, landing with a graceful roll. “Victory!”

Arata remained unimpressed, the corner of his mouth pulled back in annoyance. “...Whatever, you weirdo.”

He made her do some warmups with him, which she begrudgingly went through with, until they both stood far apart, muscles warm and loose as they prepared for a spar. Bowing to each other, they stepped into a metaphorical ring as they began to circle each other again, but this time with the intent of a proper spar.

She threw the first punch and Arata moved his head away with ease – and they basically continued like that for a while. Punch, dodge, avoid, repeat. Of course, throughout this, her brother took it upon himself to point out little flaws he saw in her stance or her moves. It was fine at first and she took it to heart, but the longer it went on, the more annoyed she got, until it quickly soured her mood.

At one point, Izumi was barely able to block his kick in time, grunting at the impact as she grabbed onto him without thought. She locked her arm around his shin, quickly planning on pushing the leg away to unbalance him, forcing a few steps back to gain some room between them, so she could try to–

Her thoughts froze at Arata’s smirk. Before she could even comprehend what happened, his leg went flying out of her grasp as he did a backflip, landed on all fours, and leaped. She landed heavily on her back as they collided, slamming flat against the floor as his fist came flying toward her. She didn’t have time to raise her arms up, only clenching her eyes shut in anticipation of the pain – but when nothing came a few seconds later, she peeked an eye open.

He was just smiling, fist hovering, before proceeding to flick her forehead. “My win.”

All at once, the adrenaline disappeared as Izumi slumped onto the ground with a groan, hands up to her forehead. “What even was that?” she asked, trying her best to push Arata off – and failing. “You did a backflip to escape? That’s not fair! I’ve never seen anyone even do that!” She didn’t even know someone could do that!

“It’s great, isn’t it?” He finally stood up, pulling Izumi with him. “I saw someone do it so I’ve been practicing the move since. I’ve even used it a few times; it works wonders. People are always so confused.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Not if you know what you’re doing,” he countered. “If you’re a newbie, then yeah, of course you’re going to fail and end up dying.” He paused for a second before pointing a finger at her. “Don’t even think about it.”

She grimaced, holding both hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

With a firm nod, he walked away to a bag by the main entrance, pulling out a bamboo bottle. “That was a good spar.”

“For you, maybe.” She followed with a scowl. “It was terrible for me.”

“No, I think you’ve definitely improved.”

After a quick break, they went through another few rounds of light sparring, to which it was clear Arata was taking it easy on her despite the punches and the red marks. A few hours later, they were catching their breaths and resting along the wall, the sun now in its beginning stages of hiding beneath the horizon as Izumi felt the deep aches that came along with intensive training – but the pumping blood and adrenaline rushing through her muscles was almost intoxicating.

“Do you think you could continue helping me?” she turned her head around, asking Arata in a small voice. “Whenever you’re free, of course. It’s just, taijutsu isn’t…I’m not that good.” She practiced, sparred, and used it frequently, but that didn’t mean she was anywhere near the level she wanted to be at, and if there was anything she could do to bridge that gap of inexperience and training, she’d do it. “I don’t…I’m not trying to focus only on taijutsu, of course, but–”

“Me?” He looked at her owlishly, face twisted in confusion.

“...Why not?” She tilted her head, brows furrowed. “You always help me.”

“But…” He blinked a few times. “Why not ask Aniue? He’s better than me.”

Her brows only scrunched further, watching him. “....He’s always busy and besides, you’re not as mean as he is.”

Finally, Arata’s features relaxed as he rolled his eyes, but there was little that could hide that smile that was now lighting up his face. “Well, in that case, of course.” He smirked, dramatically placing a hand against his chest. “After all, I’m always willing to do anything that’ll piss him off.”

“Wait, really?” Ignoring that last bit, an honest smile began to grow across her face as he nodded his head to reconfirm. “Thanks,” she said, tamping down her excitement, because she didn’t want to seem too enthused about this, not wanting to embarrass herself.

He tilted his head. “...Everything okay? I thought you’d be happier about it, seeing as how you asked me.”

“Of course I am!”

“Then prove it”—he jumped up and pointed—“with another round of sparring.”

“Again–”

Of course, he tackled her, ending that conversation swiftly.

0O0

Whether the world spat on Izumi’s very existence, she’d never know, because Arata died a few months later during the winter of her eleventh year, just a few months shy of her twelfth birthday. She bore witness to her older brother’s final moments, painful and cruel in a manner that showcased only the brutality of an unnecessary war. Far too young to have witnessed such horror but forced to confront the reality that was her fate – their fate.

On her end, it had been a simple delivery mission. On his, a scouting mission gone horribly wrong. The Uchiha hadn’t been in a time of high stress, no longer the peak of the warring season due to the colder months, so they should’ve been fine – or, at the very least, as fine and safe as an endless war could ever be. While skirmishes against the Senju were still ongoing, with the most recent a few weeks ago, many of their paying clients were beginning to hunker down for the uncharacteristically brutal winter, leaving the major powers to their own devices. A strange unspoken system designed to give both clans a short break, to recoup their losses and strategize for the inevitable battles come spring.

Weeks prior to Arata’s death, she had said goodbye to him at the gates of their home for his assigned scouting mission. It had just been sheer luck – she hadn’t even planned on seeing her older brother off, having grown used to the constant bustling of missions and its unusual scheduling. She had just woken up when she ran into him in the hallway so she simply tagged along, asking about something unimportant and menial, now quickly forgotten in the haze of routine as she waved goodbye.

Such…simplicity – where had it all gone?

Soon after, she had her own delivery mission assignment to be processed and she was promptly dismissed with her new team days later, some familiar faces and others unknown. She was flying through the trees and enjoying the crisp winter air soon after, shoulders heavy with the weight of scrolls full of letters and gear and the like.

Just how she liked it – a mind-numbingly boring task.

When she reached the outpost about a day later, a familiar face was waiting at the gates – Yuji. His replacement had traveled with her to relieve him and so once scrolls were delivered and the return mission details sorted out, she lingered by – it was always nice to see a friend, after all.

“Yuji!”

“Hey!” He smiled, a bag thrown over his shoulder. The former Hagoromo boy had grown significantly, no longer the small and fearful boy he had been. No, unlike most of her year, he was taller and had flourished under his grandfather’s training – along with the dozens of missions he took, of course.

They caught up over dinner later that evening in the mess hall, going over news that neither had heard. What took up most of their talk was the ongoing conflicts between some two major shipping families at the moment which was fueling, of course, the last winter battles waging between the Uchiha and Senju.

“Did you hear about the Senju kid? What was his name…Itama, I think?”

She grimaced. “Oh, I heard about that. Father wasn’t very happy.”

The Senju Clan Head’s youngest son had been killed a few weeks ago by a team of Uchiha shinobi, and she had heard from Izuna – who in turn heard it from Madara – that they had killed the child in such a manner that even her father had gotten angry over, forced to step in. While death and killing weren’t frowned upon as shinobi, to inflict unnecessary torture and pain, no matter the age of their enemy, was where he drew the line.

“I heard some of the details.” Yuji looked down at his food, grimacing as he pushed the food around with the ends of his chopstick. “No wonder why the Senju are so mad now.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Father stripped those shinobi of their rank and sent them to the outer colonies as guards”—she recalled the tension in the house following that news and grimaced—“and when they tried arguing with him, he threatened their shinobi status, so they dropped it.”

For a moment, there was just an award silence between them, the air suddenly somber at the mention of Senju Itama’s death and subsequent actions.

“O-Oh!” Yuji plastered on a smile, looking more like a grimace. “Your brother just came through here,” he finally said, picking up a piece of chicken. He just…ate it, watching her as she waited, raising a brow when he kept shut and didn’t clarify.

“Okay…and which one was it?” she finally deadpanned, shooting him a look as he winced at her dry tone. Could he blame her? She had several – saying her brother cleared absolutely nothing up.

“Arata-sama, I think he’s on a scouting mission?” Ah. She nodded her head. “Actually, you just missed–”

And then suddenly, the doors to the dining hall slammed open. A room full of shinobi of all ages whipped their head around, immediately on edge by the frantic and disheveled man smeared with blood and dirt, leaning heavily on the entrance. “T-The Senju–”

Those two words were all anyone needed to hear as the entire room sprung into action – forgotten was the food on the tables as every person reached for their weapons, spilling out of the doors to follow after the man. Izumi was one of the last to leave, retying her hair into a tight top knot and swallowing the chicken from a skewer whole, trailing after the large group with Yuji, heart pounding and adrenaline already pumping.

She came to a halt when the captain of the outpost stopped them all, shouting out orders; most were to stay and man the outpost, several animals – mostly bird summons – were being sent to relay the urgent information back to the Main Compound, and a decent sized group would be sent out in response to the backup request. The captain didn’t handpick a team, rather just haphazardly motioned to an area that Izumi and Yuji had been lingered by and so within minutes, after quickly donning their armor, they had left battle ready.

For what felt much longer than what was most likely to be true, the team ran in silence with the captain at the front, trepidation heightening the anxiety that seemed to flow through every single member. While yes, this outpost was here for a reason such as this, it had seldom been attacked by anyone before, far too close to the Main Compound for the Senju to attack comfortably without swift retaliation. For them to be this close was concerning, to say the least.

She looked over at Yuji, who was looking a little green, as he, too, watched her with some anxiety reflecting back in his eyes.

That was, of course, until the fighting erupted.

Without a second to spare, several Senju shinobi jumped out of the trees in a coordinated attack. Izumi, who had been running in the back, whipped out her katana from its sheathe just in time to counter an older Senju man’s kunai. Every move he made, she countered with her own. When he grew annoyed and threw it, whipping past her face and slicing the air right beside her cheek, far too close for comfort, she activated her Sharingan. Immediately, the entire area cleared and her opponent, knowing what it meant, diverted his eyes from hers. Her dōjutsu, unfortunately, didn’t hinder his moves as the Senju were far too accustomed to fighting Uchiha with their dōjutsu, knowing very well how to counter it through special training.

So they continued their deadly clashes.

She heard painful grunts and screams around her but couldn’t pay them any attention, far too focused on the man before her. After a few more clashes, she gained the upper hand, slicing through a tendon in his hand to cause him to drop his weapon. Seeing an opening, she did a quick sidestep maneuver and slid her sword into his chest via his back.

She didn’t give him a second glance as another shinobi was upon her, throwing around an axe with a speed that quickly told her she needed to be even more cautious. Every time their weapons struck, the impact reverberated up her arms, echoing through her bones in a pain she did not like. It was costing her time and energy to maintain this current stance against the Senju, but the longer they fought the slower she became, her once quick moves growing sluggish in the onslaught.

“For Itama-sama!”

The man swung his axe down and Izumi’s sharingan gave her that foresight. Still, lacking the speed, she could only bring her katana up in a move that would hopefully redirect the weapon – but she made a grave error a second too late, already in action and too late to stop it. In her attempt to deflect the attack by disarming him, his weapon collided with the unsharpened end of her katana.

She could only watch in slow motion, metal striking metal, as the Senju blade dug into her own. The axe cracked her katana and then, in a spectacular display, shattered it. Pieces of the metal rained all over them and unlike her, the Senju didn’t hesitate to deliver another blow. She flew back from his powerful backhand, tumbling on the ground in a daze, adrenaline thankfully dimming the pain radiating from her cheek.

Forced to blink a few times to reorient herself, she scrambled off the ground a split second before the axe would’ve dug into her skull. Throwing her head up, eyes still activated, she saw the next attack a split-second before it happened. In a moment of pure instinct, hands flew through the seals for a katon jutsu at a speed she’d never been capable of before, her very last resort due to her limited chakra stores – she had used much of it the last few days in the hike to the outpost. Far too late for either party, her katon hit him square in the chest, close range, moments before he could fully strike her down. He flew back with an ear-shattering scream, the fireball now consuming his body as the axe missed her head but sliced deep through her forearm.

Izumi’s eyes widened as she could only watch while on her knees, ignoring all the times her father or brothers told her never to freeze in the middle of a fight. Mouth parted as she realized that she had never truly witnessed the result of the katon on someone so close – the smell and sight of the Senju’s body erupting in flames, it was one she didn’t think she’d ever forget.

“–okay?”

She whirled around, heart thundering and broken katana pointed. She hadn’t even let go of her broken sword. But it was only Yuji, his hands held up in surrender as he too looked a little worse for wear – hair streaked with sweat and scuffled from dirt and blood. His eyes went straight to her arm and hers did too, only then finally registering the explosion of pain that was now radiating from the wound. Her arm was covered in blood as she hissed, dropping her katana as her hand went to hover over it.

“Shit,” she hissed, scrambling for some emergency bandages from her pack. Yuji beat her to it, though, pulling out his own, applying an insane amount of pressure that made her scream before tying it off.

“Can you continue?”

She nodded, gritting her teeth through the pain as she tried to catch her breath. “Yes.” Far be it for her to stop now. “Go, I just need a second.” Thankfully, the fighting had stopped by then, all the Senju dead with only a few of their own fallen. Their captain, along with a few others, had already sped off to meet with the team requesting backup, and so she pushed Yuji with her left uninjured hand until he finally relented. With a wary look, he finally sped off, leaving her alone with her remaining clansmen, all of whom were injured from a varying degree. She saw one body, dead, and another gurgling blood – which didn’t bode well for him – as their combat medic, who just so happened to be with them, was applying first aid.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, going up to the younger woman.

The woman shook her head, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and smearing blood across it. “No, you can go on ahead with the captain. I’ve got things handled here.”

So with a firm nod, Izumi took one last look at the still-burning body of her opponent, pushed the agonizing pain from her own wound away, and ran in the direction Yuji had gone down the large path.

Death seldom bothered her these days, having grown numb to the violence – yet, witnessing this one seemed to have triggered something within her brain. She tried to ignore it, she really did, but no matter how far she ran from the body, that burning smell lingered in her nose, the crackling echoing in her ears. She felt…disgusting, painfully aware of the atrocities that a fiery death resulted in.

Izumi, preparing for a fight, sheathed her unusable katana with a heavy heart, pulling out the shorter tanto she had strapped to her lower back instead. And soon enough, her friend came into sight – but rather than fighting, he was just…standing there, back to her. He was as still as a statue as she came to a slow stop a few feet away, confused but wary.

“Yuji?” she hissed, making sure to keep her voice low in the off chance there were enemies around.

With a sudden display of urgency, he whirled around, blood draining even more from his already ill pallor. “Wait, don’t–”

She tilted her head, face scrunched in confusion as she took her final steps toward her friend. “Is the fighting over?” she asked, but he kept blocking her every move as she tried to look around him. There was a decent amount of space between her and the captain, who she had seen for a second standing over a body, but with Yuji trying to block her, she couldn’t tell who the fallen shinobi was.

“You shouldn’t–”

Yuji placed his hands on her shoulders to try and hold her in place when the captain, who must have heard the commotion, called out, “Stay back, Izumi-sama–”

This was getting weird. After another second, she disobeyed the captain’s orders and shoved Yuji’s hands off, pushing her friend aside to bring her into the open area–

She froze.

No.

The world shrunk into the immediate vicinity as time came to a halt. She stood, steadfast in the face of the quiet, a pillar in the ice-cold winter winds that blew all around her. The roaring in her ears intensified, all at once the world was both far too big and far too small. Nothing felt real, she was but a puppet to the spirits and nature all around her.

Yuji attempted to rush in front of her again, pulling her uninjured arm with those expressive brown eyes of his, but none of his words were registering – she could only shove him away again, noting how terribly bloody everything was and how his very touch made her antsy with the desire to scream, staunchly overwhelmed. She swore the heat of all this blood was steaming in the frozen air.

Because over there, lying in a puddle of his blood, was Arata.

Some of the remaining teammates that had caught up to them were off puking in the distance, their stomachs unable to stay composed by the gruesome scene. Because Arata wasn’t the only one gravely injured, the remaining members of what had to have been the scouting team brutalized in a manner that would’ve had the most senior shinobi ill – the captain himself, standing beside her brother, looked far too green in spite of his veteran status. This was…this was all far too excessive, even for war. No, this wasn’t a clash between clans.

It had been personal.

“A-Arata?” her broken voice whispered, carried by the wind over to where he lay.

“Izumi-sama,” the captain commanded, nay, pleaded, “I’m ordering you–”

Her brother’s chest twitched and all at once, the world came crashing down on her as she tripped over her feet in her haste to be with him. There was a glimmer of hope, just a spark of it that told her over and over again, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, as she was gasping for air, her own wound having gone numb in comparison to the pain growing in her heart.

But as she grew closer–

All she could see was the weapons.

Several swords stuck out of Arata and his face turned away from her. The reddish mud that she was stepping in, squishing horribly beneath her feet–

“I’ve got reinforcements coming–” Captain wasn’t speaking to her but to Yuji, who was scrambling after her. They nearly collided when she skidded to a stop in the mud halfway to her brother, nearly slipping as her feet all at once felt too heavy. She couldn’t move, frozen in the momentas she just…stared at the grotesque scene before her, blinking furiously. Her friend was speaking, pulling on her again through his muffled voice, but she wasn’t bothering to pay any attention as her stomach decided, at that moment, to respond to the brutality. It rocked once, twice, and three times before she was forced to turn to her side, vomiting up the contents of her dinner and more. Once one wave finished, another came along, until her hands were on her knees as she felt nearly laid out from the intense dry heaving.

Arata, Arata–

This wasn’t real, none of this was real–

But the katanas through his body–

“I-Izumi…?”

That familiar voice broke the spell as she whipped her head up. Arata’s fingers were twitching in the mud as his voice carried over to where she was, forcing her to push her body and move. Slow steps at first until she was sprinting, until finally falling to her knees. She slipped again as she did so, splattering even more of the bloody mud all over her hakama, staining it and destroying it–

“Arata–” She couldn’t hold back her sob, hand reaching out and grabbing the only part of him that seemed to be perfectly intact – his forearm. For a moment, she cursed the irony that it was his scarred arm now the most uninjured part of him. There was a slight flinch from her touch but he didn’t – or perhaps couldn’t – pull away, his head finally lolling to face her. She couldn’t hold back her loud gasp at the painful blisters streaked across his face, centered mainly across his eyes, with some popped and others intact.

What had the Senju done?

“I…” Fresh blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, his voice so painfully weak that she could barely hear him.

“I’m here,” she cried, bringing her head down, pressing her forehead onto his arm. “I’m here.”

“It…”

“P-Please, someone’s coming–”

“...H-Hurts–” Even though he couldn’t see, she shook her head anyway, useless promises spilling over her lips as her cries began to turn incoherent, trying desperately to do anything to keep him here.

“D-Don’t, p-please–”

His breaths, already hanging precariously over the edge, began to worsen, the gurgling echoing in her ears as he seemed to struggle over the blood pooling in his mouth. She wanted to lift his head up, to somehow find a way to ease his obvious pain, hopeless dread and worsening heartbreak falling into the pits of despair in her chest, but the swords pinning him to the ground would’ve only made things so much worse.

As she gripped her brother’s arm, the field medic from earlier fell to her knees on the opposite side, hands aglow green. With sobs wracking her chest, Izumi reached out with her injured arm, trembling and unstable as she gripped onto the woman with a fierce strength. “Please, d-do something–”

But one look at the field medic’s face was all she needed to know, even through the fallacies spilling out of her mouth. “Izumi-sama–”

“No, n-no no no.” She grabbed her brother’s hand and looked back at him, taking these last few moments to remember his touch, how he was weakly squeezing her hand back. It broke her even more, shattering whatever hold she had over her emotions as her cries grew in strength, uncaring that her clansmen were witnessing such weakness. Tears and snot were running down her face but how could she care when her world was coming to an end, when her older brother, someone who was supposed to be stronger than her and better than her, a firm ever-constant pillar of her hectic life was dying?

“I-Izu…mi…?”

“A-Arata, hang o-on–” She held him, hand clasped with his own, warm and false and dead.

A part of her soul was never leaving this bloodstained forest, sitting forever beside her brother in an eternal vigil, cursed to haunt this place of death. After, soaked in her kin’s blood that seemed to have stained her body and soul crimson, she wailed to the stars, gentle caresses of the full moon upon her brow, uncaring in the face of her peers as her brother’s lifeless chest fell for the final time, never to rise again.

When Izumi arrived back at the compound days later, a body scroll gripped tight to her chest, her family was there to greet her at the gates. By now, the news had spread through the clan and beyond, of the horrifying cruelty of Arata’s death and her witness of his final moments. In respect, the clan was wearing mourning colors, avoiding the bright clothes some civilians wore for a more appropriate attire of black.

The captain, who had been ordered back along with her, was kneeling before her father and brothers, head pressed to the ground in a dogeza. He was silent but the move was enough. He was taking responsibility for the death of a Clan Head’s child, his failures to protect a member of the Head Household.

Izumi didn’t really care because she knew it wasn’t his fault – everyone knew. But in the grand scheme of things, someone was going to be forced to take responsibility and those who were most likely the cause behind the scouting team’s horrifying death would never be held responsible.

When she turned her attention back to her family, she felt so…heavy. She hadn’t spoken a word since Arata died – she was barely aware of her surroundings, feeling only a heavy numbness that threatened to overtake her. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and…cease.

There was an empty spot beside Madara, where Arata should’ve been standing. Right on the corner with Madara in the middle, who always stood beside their father. But Arata was dead. He was never going to return to his designated spot because he was dead. Dead dead, he was dead. What did it matter–

Her chest began to ache as her breathing suddenly hitched, all at once there being too much air and not enough. Her sudden inability to breathe was caught by no one but Izuna, the only person in the world who would know how she was feeling before even herself. He didn’t hesitate for a second before breaking from Madara to rush over to where she swayed, Arata’s body scroll clutched so tightly in her grasp that her knuckles had turned white, shocked that the paper wasn’t crumbling beneath her grip.

When he reached for her arm, hugging it to his chest, she finally turned to face him, his grief mirroring her own; brown eyes bloodshot and swollen from the tears, identical to hers if one were to ignore the painful bruising marring her cheek and black eye, of course. His mere presence helped calm her down, giving her a second to catch her breath and save face before the dozens and dozens of people surrounding them.

She turned around and saw that the captain remained kneeling but had lifted his head, her father speaking to him but too quietly for her to hear. Izuna led her to Madara, where she wanted nothing more than to hear her oldest brother tell her everything would be alright – but nothing was ever going to be okay. First it was Katsumi, now Arata. His eyes, matching hers, were bloodshot as well, although the swelling wasn’t nearly as bad as Izuna’s. He took a look at the scroll before reaching for it but she couldn’t help but flinch back, unable to grasp the concept that sooner or later, she’d have to give it up. She’d have to hand Arata over – but if she did that, then everything would become real in a way she–

She wasn’t–

Couldn’t–

Madara must have seen her turmoil as he let the matter drop. She noted the trembling hand but kept silent, instead shuffling over until her shoulder pressed against the side of his arm, squished between her two brothers.

Two.

Not three.

Not four.

Two.

Two, two, two.

The official funeral was held the next day after the tsuya – the wake was a several hours affair with extended family offering their condolences in person to the reading of letters from other prominent clans throughout the Fire Nation – and even a handwritten letter from the Daimyo himself. If including the shinobi and civilians who came to pay respect, it was a massive affair that bordered on hundreds of people.

Of course, there was nothing from the Senju. Which had been expected.

Izumi stood alongside Izuna, silent, as her father and oldest brother went through with the proper greetings whenever someone came up to speak with them. Hours passed by in a blur, Izumi being shepherded wherever they wanted her. She wasn’t really there, instead lost in a daze of…well, everything.

The days following the funeral remained the same – just…agony that weighted her down, left her unable to escape the near-suffocating heaviness of her futon in the darkness of her room. She ignored the summons, ignored the orders, ignored everyone who came to visit her. It was a cycle of her brothers and friends, from Madara to Kazuyo, and she couldn’t have cared less.

Sometimes, the ghosts were a dream, and sometimes, that red hair and purple eyes told her it wasn’t.

“You’re too weak,” Haru mumbled to her one day, looking down from where he sat, sitting against the wall. “Maybe that’s why he’s dead.” She stared blankly at the dead boy, a part of her cursing at his existence – for torturing her by reappearing after all these years during her lowest moments.

A shuffling of footsteps by her door. She blinked and the boy was gone, leaving her staring at a now empty space as the fusuma slid open. She didn’t bother looking at who entered, her back facing said door, but when she heard the familiar heavy steps she found herself burrowing deeper into the heavy blanket, knowing that if her father was here, she would have to…talk.

“Izumi.” Tajima’s voice had a gruffness to it that she didn’t like.

She debated ignoring him, hoping that maybe he’d leave if she did – but she also knew him well enough to know that would be unacceptable to the older man. “...Father,” she mumbled softly, her voice smothered even more so by the feathered down. A controlled thud beside her told her he had sat down before her. He remained silent, not bothering to acknowledge her greeting, opting to instead just…sit there.

“How…” Her father trailed off for a few seconds, his hesitance enough to show that things truly had changed. He was always so…so sure, never stumbling over his words. “How are you?”

She blinked, blinded by the darkness of the blanket covering her head, not deigning a response to that question, because she was not okay. She’d never be okay – not when Arata’s death haunted her every moment, waking and dreaming.

“I know”—a hitch in his voice—“that your brothers are worried. You’re refusing to leave the room, to eat or bathe? It’s not…it’s not good for you.” Well, she didn’t care. “Will you please come out from there?”

It wasn’t the fact that he asked her to but it was with that tone he spoke to her that broke the bonds shackling her to the futon. It was that softness unlying a heavy sadness similar to hers that she’d never heard her father speak with that finally got her body moving for what felt like the first time in days. She shuffled around a little, joints popping and spine cracking until she crawled out, pushing off the blanket. She noted that the windows stayed shuttered, just like she had made sure to do before her self-isolation. The only light that shined in the room was the dim moonlight from an opened door to her private porch that her father must have entered from. Thankfully, her eyes were already adjusted to the darkness as she finally turned to him, peering from the curtain of her bangs.

Tajima’s face softened the moment their eyes met and despite her attempt at a solid front, uncontrollable tears sprung out from the corners of her eyes. Her determination crumbled beneath the guilt and shame.

“...I’m sorry,” she couldn’t help but whisper, heart breaking all over again, “I-I’m s-so sorry.”

Something crossed his face that she didn’t understand and she wanted nothing more than to crawl back under her blanket, to return to that safe warmth and heaviness because out here meant things were real – she’d have to face everyone and their judgments.

Her father reached out with a hesitant hand that she didn’t run away from. He proceeded to use minimal strength to pull her to him, to embrace her in a hug that was so rarely given, a form of affection she could count on being the receiving end of with one hand. There was a strangeness to this interaction, a sense of discomfort that lingered despite the growing warmth, but soon that hesitance melted away until she began to openly sob, her face digging into the itchy wool of his haori. Her father’s hug only tightened around her, holding on with all his strength as though she were slipping through his grasp, disappearing into the nothingness of their shared grief.

“I-I–” She struggled to breathe, practically suffocating in all the air. “I d-didn’t–”

Tajima pulled her into his lap with ease as though she were a small child, pressing his cheek atop her head. She couldn’t stop the choking, the gasping for air as all that agony came forth to burst from the surface of her control.

How was she supposed to go on? Continue in a world where everything felt so wrong? It was an ache so heavy in her chest, weighing her down until she could barely walk, barely move. Every breath was agony, a reliving moment when Arata’s body grew cold in her slippery hands.

“It’s not your fault,” Tajima whispered. He rubbed her back in circular motions as she sobbed, her grief now releasing in a torrential pour. She felt as though she were being washed away from the pressure of it, and her father was gripping onto her through the current. “He wouldn’t forgive himself and move on if he knew you were blaming yourself.”

“B-But–” She looked up at him, taken aback by the shine reflected back in his eyes.

“Izumi.” Her cries momentarily quieted, hiccups lessening in intensity as she was finally able to breathe steadily after some time. “Things will get better.”

He was trying, she could tell, but how could she ever believe that when she felt like the world was imploding all around her? Her normal was gone, destroyed beneath the hand of the cruel atrocities of war and of death – Arata was gone.

“But h-he’s gone.” The tears began their assault once more, neverending in the well of grief that dug itself deeper into her chest. “He’s g-gone.”

Tajima’s arms only tightened around her as he continued rocking her through her tears, gently in a way she never had experienced before. If circumstances were otherwise, she would’ve been worried about this sudden switch in her father’s character. But nonetheless, her thoughts were only occupied by death, of the growing fear that she was a curse upon her family, a blight that brought with it death, the tears washing her away until she was drowning beneath the depths of sadness tightening its grip around her chest – until she was barely breathing at all.

0O0

Izuna knocked on her door as she sat on the private engawa, cold air flowing through the porch. “Izumi?”

She didn’t bother with a response, sitting still on the wooden floor as her brother came over. They sat, arms pressed against one another, staring into the dead courtyard with the harsh winter air breezing past them.

“...What’s wrong?” she decided to ask, voice hoarse from neglect. She felt as though she hadn’t spoken in ages, the days passing by in a continuous blur.

He brought his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee. “...I miss him.”

“I sure bet he does.” Haru appeared right behind him, her brother obviously unaffected by her hallucinations. She couldn’t help the slight flinch, looking away. She couldn’t–

“Has Father started training back up?” she asked, diverting the topic.

For the last few weeks, it had been obvious that Tajima was granting the siblings all some leeway by allowing them to take off from missions and training, but that didn’t mean anything when she knew that sooner or later, she was going to be dragged back with the others. She couldn’t even think about–

“He hasn’t said anything yet,” Izuna answered, “but I think he wants us to. Madara’s already back, working even harder than before. I see him out in the dojo or the courtyard, he’s even taking missions despite Father’s hesitance in granting him any.”

Arata’s death seemed to have sparked something in her oldest brother that dimmed within her. She found the idea of leaving her bed, her room just daunting.

“And you?”

“...I don’t know.” Izuna looked as frail as she felt. “Maybe. Probably not.”

She just hummed but said nothing else. She tried not to think too much about anything these days, far too tired to do anything other than eat what was given to her and bathe when needed. Even that, sometimes, was a difficult task that required convincing.

Just like today, she spent most of the following weeks with Izuna, the two of them sitting by one another and simply being comforted by the other's presence. They’d read, write, play some games, but ultimately it was just the act of doing…nothing that followed their routine. But she noticed that, beneath the shared sadness, something was coming back to life in her brother, something that unfortunately remained dormant in herself. She feared the day that he would show up at her door, donned in his training hakama and a sword strapped to his waist – and unfortunately, that day came sooner rather than later.

“I’m going to start training again.” Her twin stated, clearly determined as he stared at her through the open door, dressed for it. The gear was much looser than before, she couldn’t help but note. “I want you to come with me.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No.” The thought of even picking up a katana made her want to vomit – not when the swords that killed Arata still haunted her, not when the shattered remains of her own katana lay in ruins, physical proof of her failures.

“Please?.”

“I can’t–”

“So you’re just going to stay in your room forever? Never come out again?” Izuna pleaded. “You can’t because just like I can’t…sit here anymore, thinking about him, I know you. You’ll hate yourself, grow angry at the fact that you’re wasting away! He’d hate it.” Then, he repeated in a softer tone, “He’d hate it and you know it.”

She flinched as though she had been struck, all the air leaving her chest in one fell swoop.

Like always, her brother was right and she was wrong – because she couldn’t ever do anything right. She knew Arata would’ve hated the fact that they were just sitting here in their rooms. He’d push them to do something – because that was who he was. Never one to stay down, even when dealt with a brutal blow.

Well, until it ultimately did, anyway.

Maybe Izuna sensed something slightly shift but when she looked down without a word, hands limp at her side, he grabbed hers. “Please?”

And she…she couldn’t deny him this, not when it was obvious that he needed her to do this one thing with him – for him. Because he couldn’t fathom returning without her. Their eyes met and her apprehension finally took a step back, relenting control to her desire to comfort her brother more than her hesitance.

So she allowed Izuna to drag her out of her room and down to the dojo, starting with just the two of them in that large echoing room. Days passed and it soon became apparent that Izuna was getting his drive back, that moving his body was sparking that little life in his chest into a burning flame. While their grief had driven them both into the ground, he was beginning to fight back, digging his way to the surface to return to life.

But Izumi, on the other hand, found herself lacking, complacent in that addictingly dark depth of her sadness. There was no ease to the movements and stretches like before, and even when her body ached with that familiar soreness, what was once gratification and a sense of accomplishment at her growth was now…nothing. Izuna soon managed to overcome her as she continued to be left behind, more and more and more, six feet under.

The days passed by, still in a blur no matter who watched over their training – their father or older brother or the master when they went down to a public dojo. It remained the same no matter what she did and when she blinked, staring at the empty ceiling of her bedroom, she realized that Izuna was no longer knocking down her door to pull her out of bed at dawn. She was sleeping in longer and longer, the sun higher in the sky with every passing day, not being awoken for warm-ups or sparring or training – because he was now back to being a shinobi, leaving her behind in the dust with the persistent heaviness that weighed her down.

0O0

“Izumi-sama, your father requests your presence,” a servant announced through her door one summer afternoon.

She rolled over in her bed. “Tell him I’m not–”

“I fear that this is not a request. He has instructed me to relay that he demands your presence in an hour. I have placed appropriate clothing for you to change into by the door.”

And with that, she was left alone in the very familiar quiet. Izuna was out today, away on one of several missions since Arata’s death over half a year ago, leaving her to her own devices. Her shoulders hunched beneath the thin blanket as she listed the pros and cons of ignoring the summons in defiance of her father’s orders, but fear of the consequences eventually overruled her desire to remain unseen, so she dragged herself over to the door and grabbed the simple kimono folded beside it. Dressing as best as she could without any help, she threw her hair into a tight topknot after some thought, thankful she had showered the night prior.

So with quiet steps, she walked out of her room into the hall, soon arriving at a larger living space where a different servant was currently cleaning. “Hello, do you know where my father is?” Izumi inquired.

The servant whipped her head around, visibly holding back a scream. Had she been that quiet?

“I-Izumi-sama!” She bowed, hastily readjusting her kimono. “I didn’t see you there, my sincerest apologies.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled, waving a hand in the air, “so can you tell me where my father is?”

“Tajima-sama should be in one of the spare rooms towards the front of the house with a guest.”

And with that, Izumi headed over, keeping an ear out for her father. The least he could’ve done was tell me where to go, she grumbled internally, aware that there were too many rooms for her to narrow down an exact location. After some searching, she finally heard her father’s booming voice in one of several rooms meant for hosting guests. There was an unfamiliar one accompanying it as well – which meant she was going to have to greet someone. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

As she contemplated her life, a servant came across her standing by the door. Unaware of her inner turmoil, the servant simply smiled before knocking on the door to announce Izumi’s entrance before she could take a breath. She was practically pushed into the room, the door sliding shut immediately after with a loud enough bang that she jumped. Tajima stood in the room, back to her, speaking quietly to an unknown woman beside him.

“F-Father,” she greeted, bowing. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

“Izumi.” She straightened herself back up as Tajima, arms in sleeves, turned around. Something in his gaze softened when he looked at her and she found herself hunching into herself in an attempt to hide. She didn’t know why but the attention she was getting wasn’t one she wanted to be on the opposite end of because she knew she didn’t look…the best, looking quite ill if she were being honest, but the concern that laced his gaze was something she didn’t like. “I want you to meet our guest, Uchiha Ayame.”

Being who she was, Izumi did the proper greetings, bowing at the waist and whatnot, but soon after the niceties and politeness ended, her shoulders gradually fell the longer she lingered, growing more tired and wanting to be anywhere but here. It wasn’t boredom but the exhaustion that plagued her body weighing her down, leaving her with nothing but the desire to crawl back into bed, into the warmth and safety of her room. But of course, she couldn’t outright demand her father tell her why he called for her.

“It has been brought to my attention that a certain part of your training is lacking. Seeing as though you’re still in the midst of a…hiatus, I think it will be in your best interest to bring in a tutor to bridge this gap for the time being,” he finally said.

“...Gap?” A beat of silence. There was only heavy dread, anticipating the words that he was going to say because–

“Yes, a gap, as there are things that you, as a daughter–”

Damn it. “Father!” That was the last thing she wanted to do! She barely liked physical training right now, adding a new aspect to her education was only going to make things so much worse.

He sighed, held a hand up. “I will hear nothing against this as the decision has already been made–”

“But I don’t want–”

“Izumi–”

“Izumi-sama, in blunt terms, your father was told that you don’t embody the necessary standards befitting the daughter of the Uchiha Clan Head. Circumstances out of your control have led to this oversight in your schooling and so I’ve been brought in to remedy this fault. If it is of some comfort, know that this was not a decision of his own,” Ayame interrupted her father without care. Izumi was taken aback because the woman was acting as though this blatant show of disrespect wasn’t the biggest taboo of social manners – but rather than looking angry, her father simply looked…exasperated. “I am fully aware that it is a difficult moment in the family and I do offer my sincerest condolences once more”—Ayame quickly bowed her head—“but I have a duty to uphold. I must inquire: what do you know of calligraphy? Of the rules and preparations for a tea ceremony? Do you know how to run a household? To oversee the hiring and management of the staff you will undoubtedly require when you marry? To be a good host for your guests?” Owlish eyes stared at the woman as Izumi’s throat bobbed, practically feeling singled out and attacked. Her lack of a response was enough of an answer as the woman whirled back around, clearly agitated enough to hiss at Tajima, “I was right. You have failed her.”

Tajima sighed. “Ayame–”

“I don’t care if she’s a shinobi!” Well, that was certainly a first. “These are basic necessities that any woman of her social standing must be taught, regardless of an activated sharingan. Whether or not she likes it, she represents this family and the clan.” Turning back around, Ayame looked her up and down, studying her as she searched for something Izumi wasn’t quite sure of. “Instructions will be relayed before we begin your lessons next week,” she announced in a slightly softer tone, still clearly upset. With that, the woman didn’t bother waiting to be dismissed as she gracefully stormed out of the room, not a hair out of place as father and daughter were left behind to deal with the aftermath of her chaos.

“Who was that?” Izumi breathed out, frantically looking back at her father, her frustration momentarily pushed aside by sheer shock. In hindsight, the woman hadn’t even properly introduced herself other than her name before she had spoken to her like that.

“That was my cousin, once removed.” He then mumbled under his breath, “Although she’s more like my sister than anything.” Izumi couldn’t help the frown that appeared as she stared at Tajima as he continued, “She hasn’t been around the Main Compound for a while because her husband currently governs the Yakihara Compound”—the settlement was one of the largest outside of the main compound, supplying much of the food grown internally within the clan—“but as a woman with a higher…standing and someone I trust, I believe it’ll do you some good to learn from her.”

“Father–”

“Your mother knew these things, Izumi, and found time within her kunoichi duties to learn these things.” He raised a brow, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you going to claim you can’t?”

Izumi had no words to counter his claim as he practically shot down any argument she could come up with. “Of course not,” she mumbled. There was still some heat behind her words, Tajima recognizing the ire on her face and how tense she was.

“These are things that I realize she would’ve taught you if she were here today. We both know this isn’t where my knowledge lies.” She stayed silent, stubbornness sealing her lips as she entered into a strange standoff with her father. He was clearly awaiting a response while she deemed it necessary to remain quiet. “I’m not your enemy here.” He sighed. “I’m hoping that you’ll find the new subjects enjoyable.”

She nearly clicked her tongue in annoyance but forced herself from overstepping. “...But why now?” she finally pleaded. “Is it because of Madara’s potential marriage contract?” Because that was a conversation she had overheard a few days prior, further confirmed by Izuna when asked about it.

“Partially.” Tajima tilted his head, observing her before a sharp motion signaling her to follow. He opened the doors to the engawa, the hallways opening into an empty garden. “I’m giving you every fighting chance in this world.”

“Then just let me stay a shinobi–” The words slipped out before she could hold them back, finding herself shocked at how quickly she returned to that mindset the moment she believed it was to be taken away from her. Despite the hesitance that lingered in her limbs during training, she couldn’t help but hold onto that desire with everything she could because she had worked hard up until now to be the shinobi she had always dreamed of.

Not that she was doing much with that status these days.

If her father was shocked at her words, he made no show of it. “And you will be once you return to your training. In fact, did I say anything about sheathing your weapons?

“Well–”

“Did I say anything about a marriage contract for you?”

“No–”

“Alright then, calm down.” There was a brow raise. “You know, you may even be glad of these exercises, perhaps it’ll keep your mind occupied because I know you aren’t participating in training like your brothers.” With that, she couldn’t help the wave of shame, turning her gaze down onto the ground as he stood beside her, arms crossed and looking out into the garden. “This will give you something to do. It isn’t good to stay holed up in your room.”

And with that, he dismissed her. She walked back to her room, head hung low with defeat, exhaustion forcing her to crawl back into her bed. She quickly noted that her room had been cleaned she was out.

Yet, oddly enough, the next week passed by in a blur. While she had expected to be worried and fretting over her meeting with Ayame, the training she was muddling through coupled with the continuous exhaustion meant that the first day with the older woman was the furthest thing from her mind. It was just another item on a long mental to-do list, barely scribbled down haphazardly at the end in watered-down ink.

“Izumi-sama.”

“Ayame-san,” she greeted when the day came, hands folded above her abdomen with a firm bow at the waist. Today, she made sure to be wearing a kimono, casual but formal enough for the occasion.

“Good. You know how to greet someone properly.” A quick flare of anger at the insult, Izumi made sure to grit her teeth and push through it, instead sitting down once prompted to. On the table was an ink stone and a blank scroll, a brush to its side that Izumi was very familiar with. “Now, I want to see your shodō skills. I assume due to your current training as a shinobi, you’re well versed with calligraphy?”

“Yes.”

“Good. But that does not immediately translate to understanding the complexities behind the art form. I have, to your right, a kanji character.” And then, silence.

So digging through her mind and the basics of what she knew, Izumi began. Went through the process of grinding the ink stone properly, diluting the ink with the water she was given – a stark difference from the ink bottles they were given to write down their storage seals and body seals. From there, she grabbed the brush with one hand, copying the character in the proper brush strokes while holding back the sleeves of her kimono with the other. After a few tense minutes, she finally sat back and set her brush down. Ayame was watching her work with a critical eye, scanning the paper with an undistinguishable look on her face.

“Find me impressed, Izumi-sama,” the woman finally said. A sudden and unexpected burst of relief and pride flooded her, taking her aback when this realization hit her. It had been a while since she felt…anything other than that sadness staining her daily life. “While there are little things we will have to fix, otherwise, the character is perfectly written and your form was decent. It’s clear that those seals you write helped.” Then, without waiting for a response, Ayame stood up and dusted off her kimono. “Let us move into the next room, where I’ve prepared a small tea ceremony for your demonstration.”

Izumi stood up, mimicking her new teacher as she shuffled over to the fusuma doors, making sure to note the exact movements Ayame took, the exact steps that the woman went through, a sudden sense of finality as the doors closed behind her, entering a brand new world that was unknown to her.

0O0

“Izumi.”

Her eyes shot open, heart thundering in her chest. Without thought, her body had moved instinctually, grabbing the kunai she always slept with beneath her pillow. She couldn’t–

She wouldn’t let anyone take–

“...Don’t-”

She blinked, the dark haze that had blurred the identity of her intruder melting away. A few more were needed to readjust to the darkness of her room, for it to finally register that it was her brother at the end of her weapon, not some enemy posed to attack. When her eyes flickered to the kunai in her hand, the deadly blade only a hairsbreadth away from Izuna’s neck, reality came crashing down as she sputtered out a gasp, quickly followed by her chest heaving for air, the adrenaline and panic loosening its control over her body.

“What the–” She dropped it with a shaky hand, anger quickly replacing the panic as she pushed Izuna more roughly than she planned. He fell against the wall with a loud thud without bothering to defend himself – which was unusual and now setting off alarms – as he just sat there, watching her. “What the hell is wrong with you? You know better than to sneak up–”

“I-I’m sorry, I just–” He was trembling and hunched into himself, and it was then that she realized he wasn’t okay, that something had clearly happened. She forced herself to take a deep breath, to take a metaphorical step back and observe rather than act. “I didn’t know where to go, what to do, and I don’t…” he whispered, finally looking back at her with watery eyes.

She paused, breath still erratic but mind less rattled – until, of course, her thoughts immediately to the worse case scenarios, to which Izuna quickly cued in on when her breathing hitched. He fired off that Madara and their father were okay, that no one was hurt and that wasn’t why he was here in her room in the middle of the night. While that did ease some tension in her chest, that certainly didn’t explain why her brother had snuck in, dressed in his battle gear – and was that blood on his sleeves? At least he didn’t have his armor on, she thought.

“Well?” she demanded, fully awake at this point, “what is it?”

“My sharingan.” He looked down at his hands. “I activated it.”

She blinked a few times, staring at her brother. “...Congratulations?” She leaned back the slightest, brows furrowed because didn’t really know what to say; it was bound to happen at some point as an Uchiha shinobi, so why was he acting like this? Yeah, a little later than most, but Madara’s sharingan had taken a while to mature as well, so it wasn’t that out of the norm.

But upon further thought, she sensed a shift within him she didn’t like, unfamiliar lines on his face that were never there before.

With a weak smile fooling no one, Izuna slumped forward. “...I killed a Senju today.” After a few more seconds of silence ringing through her room, the words simply hanging in the air, she let out a quiet breath and brought her blanket over to sit beside him, wrapping them together beneath the heavy comforter. She could smell the tinge of smokiness on his clothes, the lingering scent of a fight. “And I was just…I was so angry.”

Once she settled beside him, he practically melted underneath the blanket. His arms were wrapped tightly around his legs, forehead pressed against the top of his knees.

“I get it,” she whispered back.

His breathing hitched until the next thing she knew, quiet tears slipped through his defenses until he was sobbing, body shaking beside her. “I just miss him,” he cried, “a-and it’s not fair.”

Mimicking his form but leaning her full weight onto him, she felt those familiar tears prickling her own eyes. “I know.”

After a few minutes, Izuna calmed himself down enough so that when he finally turned his head, those expressive eyes of his were rimmed red, staring back at her. “I was so angry when I killed that Senju that for a moment, I forgot where I was. I just stabbed him and watched him bleed out.”

Something else must have happened, she thought, because there was no way that was the only reason why Izuna was this distraught. It wasn’t even his first kill since returning–

“But then I heard someone yell out to him Aniki,” he said, and that was the final nail in the coffin of events, wasn’t it? Realization fully dawned on her as she had to look away, her own heart heavy for her brother beside her. “And someone our age was trying to run over.” His eyes shuttered at the memory, emotions ceasing as he turned away. In shame? Anger? “One of his clansmen had to pull him away because reinforcements were coming, and I remember everything so clearly, Izumi, I can’t forget it. The tears, just how broken he looked, I can’t forget.” She didn’t know what to say or how to, so she stayed silent, firm in her presence beside him.

Because the truth was that she hardly found herself concerned over the emotions of a Senju because that opened up far too many doors she didn’t want to think about, but when forcefully slapped with the reality that they were people with loved ones too, she wanted nothing more than to hightail it and run away – because how dare they after killing Arata? How dare they after killing thousands and thousands of her clansmen?

But despite her anger and resentment, she wasn’t…she knew the reverse could be said too.

Regardless, these were thoughts meant only for her, unable to speak out loud in fear of being branded a sympathizer or a traitor, so instead she closed her own eyes, holding Izuna as he began to cry once more. Shaking shoulders as she vowed to protect him, to protect Madara, and to protect her father – to protect all she knew.

Because that was all she could do.

The next morning she awoke alone, blanket wrapped around her as she lay on her side, the cold tatami floor bleeding through her clothes. She shivered and rolled over onto her back, staring at her ceiling for more than a reasonable amount of time until suddenly, she was angry. Bursting at the seams with this sudden rage spilling out from her thoughts and into her blood.

At the Senju, at the world, at herself, but most importantly…at Arata.

Not for the circumstances that led to his death but for the simple fact that he died. Left them in such a horrid manner that to this day, she had nightmares about it, that some days, she knew to sneak past her father’s office because of the muffled cries that escaped from the room, and that these days Madara, whether it was self-exile or not, was barely home, guilt eating him alive.

It was that realization, that spark, that finally got her Izumi moving. The heat of this rage fueled her thoughts, forced her to begrudgingly admit that Izuna was, in fact, correct in his observations that she’d be angry – because she couldn’t lay there anymore, wasting away as her brothers grew further and further away, leaving her behind in the ashes of her own self-pity.

So she got onto all fours, took a deep breath, and stood up. Day after day, she forced her body beyond its capabilities, pushing her strengths until finally, her muscles began warming up faster, stretches and moves that she had faltered at now regaining their familiarity. She pushed herself to return to who she once was, even suffering through the embarrassment of losing sparring matches with her fellow clansmen as she slowly returned to the public eye to become better.

Stronger.

She threw herself back into training with a fury that everyone was taken aback by – several times, she felt their eyes heavy on her back as she trained harder and harder. Soon, weeks became months and once her father deemed her mission ready, she resumed them, barely easing into the transport missions before being thrown into the battles and fights she once had only dreamed of. Every time she saw that Senju symbol, her blood sang with the desire for revenge, ruthless in pursuit of vengeance for those she had lost, because who would she be without her loved ones, dead or alive?

It was this anger that burned right through her, marking a shift obvious for anyone to see.

And the next few years flew by in a similar manner. Her tutelage under Ayame continued as she grew and grew, smarter and stronger with the passing of time, becoming a powerhouse of a shinobi beneath the watchful eyes of her father and oldest brother. But with this, of course, came the calm before the storm. For years, while under the constant cycle of fighting with the Senju and their allies, Izumi was molded into a teen worth reckoning. Still young enough that a hint of naivete lingered through all the hardships but enough so that it hardened her, it presented to her painful choices and decisions that had to be made in the face of bloody conflicts.

Because war was ever-constant, a cycle unbroken.

0O0

Always in this dream, Izumi stood in a vast unending field, blooming sunflowers and tall grass all around. A place she had never seen, only ever read about. Despite the unfamiliar landscape, it calmed her racing thoughts, settling the anxious nerves that typically dominated her life. She faced the blue sky, closed eyes basking in its warmth, the fresh air gently brushing all around. Gentle laughter from the bright flowers as the sun shined upon her brow.

A momentary respite in a hectic world.

Once she got her fill of the warmth, she’d look down, attention now on that one house far off in the distance – although she felt like a regular in this dream these days, there was never anyone accompanying her in her mind’s creation. Just herself amongst the imagined flowers and trees – but as time went on, things began to change.

From the corner of her eyes, always a lone figure. Watching ever silently, always observing. At first, it was unnerving; Izumi would attempt to escape via the fields in hopes of running away from the unfamiliar gaze – but no matter how far she walked, no matter how long she hiked, that house stayed far far beyond reach, never any smaller but never any bigger.

With the years passing by, the dream remained a constant in her life. Of course, there were slight differences as variations would come and go, such as a bumblebee floating by in place of a ladybug or the sunflowers replaced by hydrangeas – but amidst the turmoil of the real world, that seldom mattered.

Of course, that and those persistent eyes. Although, these days she simply ignored the weight of the gaze because she never sensed any ill intent, just…simple observation. If her mind sought to unite them, it would. After all, it was only a dream.

But one day, that figure slowly grew into a blurry woman, her face hidden by the distance. What once was unknown now replaced by an eerie sense of deja vu, of familiarity that shouldn’t have been possible. It made no sense. Yet, no matter how many times she tried to look, to whirl around and catch this new stranger unaware, only the swaying flowers and grass greeted her. That woman, hidden once more.

Just Izumi, always alone in this vast world of laughing flowers, standing beneath the warm sunlight blanketing wherever it touched.

End of Part I